Barcelo halted them with drawn pistol. "Stand away! you squealing rats. I'll shoot the man who touches a halyard." The Englishman stepped back; likewise, the others. "O, our wives and children!" some one hoarsely cried. "Comandante, for the love of God, bethink yourself!" remonstrated Farquharson. "Sight those guns!" persisted Barcelo in a voice of thunder. "Now's your time! The ship's showing bottom like a dying fish. Hit the line, men, between air and water! Fire!" Hill and valley again boomed in angry refrain. Over the bay skimmed the shot, true poised for distance, but scattering a course a quarter mile from the flagship's side. Deck and port-hole of the great vessel frowned on the upstart who dared dispute the coming of the giant. Away from the castle grounds in confusion tumbled the crowds that had so gayly come to enjoy a holiday. Panic-stricken, Monterey held its breath, each instant seeing the next instant terrible in red destruction, to satisfy the Briton's vengeance. Still the flagship swung, the circle widening, her cannon sullenly silent. Helm hard down, she put about till Monterey lay astern. Her sails unfurled. Proud in the knowledge of her unused strength she spurned castle and capital and made majestically for the open sea. One by one the warships wheeled and followed the leader, in triangular lines, as before. The sea-breeze lifted from the castle the thick, black smoke-cloud. The gunners, begrimed and eager, held by their pieces. Farquharson, white with suppressed rage, paced the battlement. The consuls were gathered in knots of twos and threes. Barcelo, grim and aloof, stood with folded arms and watched the departing fleet until the last speck dropped from sight. On the way home, an hour later, Señora Valentino volunteered to the Colonel: "Well, the British ships have come--and gone." "Yes--and I am still comandante," bluster reasserting itself. Then, to his wife: "That peon valet laid out my new uniform all right, but he gave me my old sword belt. There's simply no depending on the fellow." CHAPTER XXV BROWN TAKES A HAND AT DIPLOMACY "The consummate sentimental bookworm! He hasn't gumption enough to manage a hedge school." Farquharson threw himself into a chair and crossed his legs, knocking over another chair in the process. It was in the house of the English consul. "I haven't caught breath after the pandemonium this morning," returned the consul. "I'm glad to be back here alive."