She carried an American flag, somewhat tattered, and she was spreading quite as much canvas as a prudent skipper might have considered safe under the strong gale that was blowing. She was bark-rigged, of about four hundred tons burden, and was headed westward in the Nicholas Channel, off the northerly coast of the Island of Cuba. There was a high sea running, but the ship stood up well, and the few men who were on deck could get about easily. Even a boy of apparently not over seventeen, who came to a halt near the mainmast, managed to keep his balance with some help from a rope. That he did so was a credit to him, and it helped to give him a sailor-like and jaunty air. So did his blue trousers, blue flannel shirt with a wide collar, and the sidewise pitch of his tarpaulin hat. He might as well have remarked aloud that he was one of those boys who are up to almost anything, and who think small potatoes of a mere storm at sea. Near him, however, stood a pair of men, either of whom might have felt as much at home under another flag than the one which was now fluttering its damaged bunting above them. The shorter of the two was a very dark-faced gentleman of perhaps forty, with piercing black eyes. In spite of his civilian dress, he wore an expression that was decidedly warlike, or soldierly. "Captain Kemp," he said to his companion, "will you be good enough to tell me why we are in the Nicholas Channel?" "No, Senor Zuroaga," growled the large-framed, roughly rigged and grim-looking sailor. "I'm cap'n o' this ship, and I don't give explanations. We've had gales on gales since we left port. One course is as good as another, if you're not losing distance. We'll reach Vera Cruz now three or four days sooner than we reckoned. All those war insurance risks were paid for for nothing." "I'm not so sure of that," was slowly and thoughtfully responded. "Not if one of Uncle Sam's officers should get a look into the hold of this ship." "You're a Mexican, anyhow," said Captain Kemp, surlily. "You know enough to keep your mouth shut. You don't really have to know anything about the cargo. Besides, it was peace when we sailed. We shall make a safe landing,--if nothing happens on the way." "Captain," said the Mexican, "it does not take long to make a declaration of war when both sides are determined to have one." "You're wrong there, Senor Zuroaga," replied the captain, emphatically. "Mexico doesn't want a brush with the States. She isn't strong enough. The Yankees can whip her out of Texas any day." "That is not the point at all," replied Zuroaga, sadly. "The fact is, the Texan Yankees want a war for revenge, and the American party in power would like to annex a great deal more than Texas. President Paredes needs a war to keep himself in power and help him put on a crown. Old Santa Anna wants a war to give him a chance to return from exile and get control of the army. If we ever do reach Vera Cruz, we shall hear of fighting when we get there."