*CHAPTER XIII* *Bad News for Gerald Wilson* _Written by Sub-Lieutenant William Wilson_ Later on in the morning, after all those things had happened about which that young ass of a cousin of mine has just told you, and after the Santa Cruz Navy and the transports had disappeared, a boat came pulling off to the ship with a note from old Gerald. ’DEAR BILLUMS—The whole "caboodle" has shoved off home—haven’t an idea why, but they were in such a hurry that they left behind them a grand lot of ammunition—the very thing we wanted. Old Zorilla has gone back without his black horse—never mind. There’s a report that a white flag is flying over El Castellar. I’m just off to see. GERALD.’ I read it out to the gun-room. Wasn’t it grand for old Gerald? He’d just about swept the board. I thought I’d show the letter to the Skipper, and did so—he was jolly pleased. ’Tut, tut, boy! I’ll tell "Old Spats,"’ he chuckled, and sent for a signalman, but had hardly spoken before one came tearing in with a ’wireless’ message from the _Hercules_—she was still at Princes’ Town. ’_La Buena Presidente_ put into San Josef two days ago, after carrying out target practice, and, under shelter of Punta Rejos, coaled from a collier. She is flying the insurgent flag.’ ’Now we know, lad! That’s the reason the Santa Cruz fleet cleared off, lad! They’ve heard about her. She’ll be off the coast any day, and they’re flying back under the guns of Los Angelos.’ He sent the signalman back with his message for Captain Roger Hill. ’Tut, tut, boy! I’ll be able to ask your brother to dinner in a few days, I hope—that is, if he isn’t too big a swell—makes me feel a worm—p’r’aps he won’t come—hope he will.’ He pointed his telescope towards the shore. ’Look at those black and green flags flying over the town. The Provisional Government are unpacking their bags again, I expect, and if they demand Official Recognition they’ll probably get it.’ ’I hope they will, sir,’ I said, and went below. You can guess how jolly cheerful I felt, and how I blessed _La Buena Presidente_ and the people who’d coaled her. I knew how awfully happy the news would make them at home, so I got permission to send a telegram to tell them that Gerald was safe. It went to the _Hercules_ by ’wireless,’ and I jolly well hoped that some one on board her would pay for it to be telegraphed to England. I did so wish that old ’Ginger’ and I hadn’t parted ’brass rags,’ and that I could have asked him to send it. That afternoon the Captain sent for me; he’d shipped a sea-boot face, and I knew that something had gone wrong. ’I’ve just had that signal, lad,’ he said, and handed it to me.