That struck me as being too much to ask of Gerald, but he only tightened his jaws a little more, and began jabbering away in Spanish to the Commandant, whose tired, hungry-looking eyes opened out with pleasure and cunning, so that I knew that my brother had told him everything, and knew perfectly well that there would be no surrender. It wouldn’t help old Gerald much now, even if he did get possession of the fort, because that cruiser, whose coming we’d been longing for so much and now so dreaded, would, after we’d handed her over to the Santa Cruz Navy, batter down its walls with the utmost ease. If I’d been Gerald I’m hanged if I would have told him the truth, and would have taken my chance with the fort. Oh! wasn’t it cruel luck? ’The Commandant thanks you for the information,’ Gerald said, turning to the Skipper, ’and under the new circumstances will not surrender El Castellar.’ We saw the Commandant speak to the officer who had met us, and he must have passed the news round, for, in a minute or two, a couple of hundred ragged half-starved soldiers surged out from under those thatched huts, swarmed round us, and began shouting out, ’_Viva los Inglesas!’ ’Viva la Marina Inglesa!_’ The brutes—they’d have cut our throats, ten minutes ago, with the greatest pleasure. I saw the ’Gnome’s’ hand go to his revolver, for they jolly well looked as if they wanted to cut his throat and the other officers’—he was bristling with anger. ’Come along, boy, we’ve done enough harm here,’ the Skipper said. ’Hadn’t we better see my brother safely out of it first, sir?’ I suggested, for I didn’t like the Commandant’s eyes or those treacherous-looking soldiers. ’Brain wave, lad! Good brain wave!—we will.’ We did see him out, tramping along through the main gateway, over a drawbridge, and took him down to where his own little brown men clustered, at the edge of the forest, waiting to see the black and green flag hoisted above the fort they hated so much. [Illustration: It was the most miserable walk I have ever had] It was the most miserable walk I have ever had, and I could have killed the men shouting ’_Viva los Inglesas!_’ as they lined the wall and crowded through the gateway behind us. I feel certain that, if we hadn’t been there, and the _Hector_ lying close inshore, they’d have shot Gerald and his officers in the back. I told Gerald about my having cut the fingers off that little ex-policeman, and implored him not to let him go again, and before we got to the forest we stopped to wish him good-bye. As I was going, he said: ’I know Captain Pelayo, Billums, the Captain of _La Buena Presidente_—he and old Zorilla are about the only types of the old fighting Spaniard left in the country—and he won’t surrender his ship without fighting. He’s got good men aboard too.’