red. But this flag,
senor--do you know what it is? Name of God! do you know? See that
red cross upon the blue and white ground! You never saw it before?
_Seguramente no._ It is the naval flag of your country. _Mire!_
This rotten tub we stand upon is its navy--that dead cockatoo lying
there was its commander--that stroke of cutlass and single pistol
shot a sea battle. All a piece of absurd foolery, I grant you--but
authentic. There has never been another flag like this, and there
never will be another. No. It is unique in the whole world. Yes.
Think of what that means to a collector of flags! Do you know,
_Coronel mio_, how many golden crowns Herr Grunitz would give for
this flag? Ten thousand, likely. Well, a hundred thousand would not
buy it. Beautiful flag! Only flag! Little devil of a most heaven-born
flag! _O-he!_ old grumbler beyond the ocean. Wait till Don Sabas
comes again to the Koenigin Strasse. He will let you kneel and touch
the folds of it with one finger. _O-he!_ old spectacled ransacker of
the world!"

Forgotten was the impotent revolution, the danger, the loss, the
gall of defeat. Possessed solely by the inordinate and unparalleled
passion of the collector, he strode up and down the little deck,
clasping to his breast with one hand the paragon of a flag. He
snapped his fingers triumphantly toward the east. He shouted the
paean to his prize in trumpet tones, as though he would make old
Grunitz hear in his musty den beyond the sea.

They were waiting, on the _Salvador_, to welcome them. The sloop came
close alongside the steamer where her sides were sliced almost to the
lower deck for the loading of fruit. The sailors of the _Salvador_
grappled and held her there.

Captain McLeod leaned over the side.

"Well, senor, the jig is up, I'm told."

"The jig is up?" Don Sabas looked perplexed for a moment. "That
revolution--ah, yes!" With a shrug of his shoulders he dismissed the
matter.

The captain learned of the escape and the imprisoned crew.

"Caribs?" he said; "no harm in them." He slipped down into the sloop
and kicked loose the hasp of the hatch. The black fellows came
tumbling up, sweating but grinning.

"Hey! black boys!" said the captain, in a dialect of his own; "you
sabe, catchy boat and vamos back same place quick."

They saw him point to themselves, the sloop and Coralio. "Yas, yas!"
they cried, with broader grins and many nods.

The four--Don Sabas, the two officers and the captain--m