"And so you see, sir," he concluded, "you could hardly find anyone, not actually a Spaniard, with better chances of success than I have. I have been in Saragossa before, and I have some command of Spanish—and I am not afraid, sir." Mr. Frere was evidently taken with the suggestion. He had listened with growing interest to Jack’s modest story, and smiled at his account of his conversation with the boastful commissary and his subsequent adventure with the Spanish stablemen. "And this gipsy boy of yours—would you propose to take him with you?" "Yes, sir; my chums regard him as my familiar spirit, and I myself have begun to cherish a sort of belief that I sha’n’t come to much harm if he is near at hand." "Well, Mr. Lumsden, I am much interested in your story; I think, if I may say so, that you have shown great capacity and resourcefulness, and fully justified poor Sir John’s confidence, and I confess, after seeing and hearing you, that I have every hope of your succeeding in this, perhaps the most difficult, certainly the most hazardous, of all your enterprises. And now, as that is settled, we must lose no time. When will you be ready to start?" "When the first ship sails, sir." "You will go by ship, then?" "It will perhaps be quicker, and safer on the whole." "What about French frigates?" "I must take my chance of them. Luckily I kept the Spanish dress given me by Don Pedro de Gracioso; Pepito has it in my bundle. I shall, of course, go as a Spaniard." "I wish I had your youthful confidence!" Mr. Frere sighed. "Very well; find out when the boat sails northward, and I will have my despatch for General Palafox ready at any time." "You will answer for me to the military authorities, sir?" "Certainly. You may assume that you have six months’ leave; and for my part, I do not suppose that your regiment will require your services any more in Spain." At the conclusion of the interview Jack stepped into the street with a light-heartedness he had not known for many a day. The winter, with all its fatigues and disappointments, was passing away; he felt a strange assurance that with the coming spring the tide of his affairs would turn towards achievement and happiness; and he returned to his inn with a buoyancy and eagerness in his gait that caused many a head to turn and many a face to smile. With Pepito he hastened at once to the quay by the Torre del Oro, only to learn that no vessel would sail for the northern ports for some days. "We can’t wait for that," he said to himself, and immediately sought out the owner of a large fishing-smack he saw in the offing. After some bargaining he arranged to hire the craft with its crew, to sail, wind and weather being favourable, next morning.