"Yes," said the lad, looking round. "Clouds are gathering in the west, and we are going to have a grand show of such colours as I never saw anywhere else. Come on up, there's a good chap." Fitz remained silent, and the skipper's son winked to himself. "Where's Mr Burgess now?" said Fitz at last. "He's in his cabin, writing home to his wife. You would never think how particular such a gruff old fellow as he is about writing home. Writes a long letter every week as regular as clockwork. Doesn't seem like a pirate, does it?" "Is your father on deck?" "No. He's in his cabin, busy over the chart. We are getting pretty close to the port now." "Ah!" cried Fitz eagerly. "What port are we making for?" "San Cristobal." "Where's that?" "In the Armado Republic, Central America." "Oh," said Fitz. "I never heard of it before. Is there a British Consul there?" "Oh, I don't know. There generally is one everywhere. I think there used to be before Don Villarayo upset the Government and got himself made President." "And is it to him that you are taking out field-guns and ammunition?" "I never said we were taking out field-guns and ammunition," said Poole innocently. "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.