"There's nothing of that sort down in the bills of lading--
only Birmingham hardware. Oh no, it is not for him. It is for another
Don who is opening a new shop there in opposition to Villarayo, and from
what I heard he is going to do the best trade."

"What's the good of your talking all this rubbish to me? Of course I
know what it all means."

"That's right. I supposed you did know something about it, or else your
skipper would not have sent you to try and capture our Birmingham
goods."

"Birmingham goods!" cried Fitz. "Fire-arms, you mean."

"To be sure, yes," said Poole. "I forgot them. There are a lot of
fireworks ready for a big celebration when the new Don opens his shop!"

"Bah!" cried Fitz contemptuously; and then after a few moments' thought,
"Well," he said shortly, "I suppose I shall have to do it. I can't stop
always in this stuffy cabin. It will make me ill again; and I may just
as well face it out now as at some other time."

"Just," said Poole, "only I am afraid you will be disappointed, for you
will find nothing to face."

Fitz turned upon the speaker fiercely, looking as if he were going to
make some angry remark; but he found no sneer on the face of the
skipper's son, only a frank genial smile, which, being lit up by the
warm glow gradually gathering in the west, seemed to glance upon and
soften his own features, till he turned sharply away as if feeling
ashamed of what he looked upon as weakness, and the incident ended by
his saying suddenly--"Let's go on deck."

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

"OLD CHAP"--"OLD FELLOW."

Days of slow sailing through calm blue waters, with quite an Archipelago
of Eden-like islands showing one or another in sight.

Very slow progress was made on account of the wind, which was light and
generally adverse.

Fitz passed his time nearly always on deck with the skipper's glass in
hand, every now and then close enough in to one of the islands to excite
an intense longing to land, partly to end his imprisonment, as he called
it, partly from sheer desire to plunge into one or another of the
glorious valleys which ran upward from the sea, cut deep into the side
of some volcanic mountain.

"Lovely!" was always on the boy's lips. "I never saw anything like this
before, Poole. But where's the port we are sailing for? Are we never
going to land?"

"Oh, it's only a little farther on," was the reply. "If this wind only
gets up a little more towards sundown I ex