be flying at San Cristobal, as
it will be flying here."

"If," said Fitz quietly to Poole, as the Spaniard walked forward to
address his men, "he is not counting his chickens before they are
hatched."

"Yes," said the skipper, who had heard his words; "and if the gunboat
does not return."

"Well, father, there are some things in his favour," said Poole, "even
about the gunboat."

"What?"

"This is a very rocky coast. That gunboat must draw a good deal of
water."

"True, my boy; true."

"And, father," said Poole, with a smile, "they haven't got a Burgess on
board."

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE.

THE CONTRABAND.

The evening was coming on fast as the schooner sailed on towards the
little port with her overburdened decks.

"Are we going to run right in, Poole?" asked Fitz, as he watched the
excitement of the crowd on deck, where every one of Don Ramon's
followers was busy polishing up his rifle, to the great amusement of the
carpenter, who slouched up to where the lads were standing. "Just look
at 'em," he said. "They thinks they're soldiers; that's what they have
got in their heads. Rubbing up the outsides of them rifles! I've been
watching of them this last half-hour. They're just like an old farmer I
used to know. Always werry pertickler, he was, to whitewash the
outsides of his pig-sties; but as to the insides--my!"

That last word sounded like a bad note on a clarionet, for, as he spoke,
Winks was holding his nose tightly between his finger and thumb.

Fitz laughed, and asked the question that begins the second paragraph of
this chapter.

"Seems like it," said Poole, "but I don't know whether it's going to be
safe."

"Won't be safe for them," continued the carpenter, "if they don't run
their loading-rods and a bit of rag through them barrels. Sore
shoulders for some of them. My word, how they will kick! Soldiers!" he
chuckled. "I say, Mr Burnett, have you ever seen them there
recruiting-sergeants about Trafalgar Square, London?"

"Yes, often," said Fitz. "Why?"

"Nice smart-looking, well-built chaps, as looks as if their uniforms
had growed on 'em like their skins."

"Yes, they are smart picked men of course," said Fitz.

"That's so, sir. What do you think they would say to these
tan-leather-coloured ragged Jacks, if they went up and offered to take
the shilling?"

"Well, they wouldn't take many of them, I think," replied the middy.

"Take many of them, sir? I seem to see one o