A more peaceable set of men never existed. Though they numbered
sixteen, three more than the usurpers, it was quite certain that the
thought of further resistance never entered their minds. If anything,
they hailed the adventure with decorous hilarity. It formed a welcome
break in the monotony of their drab lives. Of course, they were
utterly incredulous as to the ability of a scarecrow like Dom Corria to
fulfil his financial pledges. Therein they erred. He was really a
very rich man, having followed the illustrious example set by
generations of South American Presidents in accumulating a fine
collection of gilt-edged scrip during his tenure of office, which said
scrip was safely lodged in London, Paris, and New York. But the world
always refuses to associate rags with affluence, and these worthy
Teutons regarded De Sylva and Coke as the leaders of a gang of
dangerous lunatics who should be humored in every possible way until a
port was reached.
It was precisely that question of a port which had engaged Coke in
earnest consultation with De Sylva and San Benavides on the bridge
while Iris and Hozier were lacerating each other's feelings on the poop.
Apparently, the point was settled when Hozier joined the triumvirate.
Coke glanced at the compass, and placed the engine-room telegraph at
"Full Speed Ahead," for the _Unser Fritz_ had once been a British ship,
and still retained her English appliances.
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