“Mostly old tubs, converted yachts and the like, with rapid-fire guns and maybe a few six-inchers mounted on ’em,” said the sailor, who had sauntered up. “A modern destroyer like the _Barrill_, if she was handled properly, could do a lot of damage to ’em--send ’em to the junk pile, in fact.” The next morning the _Beale_ steamed up to her old anchorage in the harbor of Boca del Sierras. But, while they had been gone, another occupant had been added to the shipping of the harbor--the American mail steamer. How good it looked to see Old Glory flying bravely at her stern. But they were not to have the company of the mail steamer for long. About an hour after they anchored, she blew a long blast of her whistle and, dipping her flag in sea courtesy to the hornet-like destroyer, she steamed majestically out between the two capes on her way south. Shortly afterward the lieutenant’s boat was called away, and he was rowed ashore to communicate with the consul and also receive dispatches, which he expected would have been forwarded by the mail boat, which left New York one day later than the _Beale_. As before, the men were informed that they could stretch their legs ashore while waiting the return of their officers, and Ned and Herc were once more among the lucky ones. As the officers’ visit was likely to be but a short one, however, there was no opportunity this time for a run into the country, so, accompanied by Stanley, they strolled about the docks. On one wharf there was a scene of great activity going forward. From the mail steamer there had been landed a number of boxes, on which were stenciled in big letters, “Agricultural Machinery.” That they were of great weight was evidenced by the fact that the men who were working to get them into a small launch by means of an old hand crane seemed to find the task about equal to their strength. “That rope’s going to part before long,” grunted Stanley, gazing at the aged cable of the hand crane, which was raveled and did not look capable of handling weights of the ponderous character of the boxes. A box was poised in mid-air ready for swinging over above the launch as he spoke. Suddenly there was a sharp crack and a cry of alarm from the workmen. “Ah, ah! I thought so!” exclaimed Stanley. “There she goes!” The accident he had anticipated had occurred. The rope had snapped under the strain, and the box which was being hoisted had crashed down on the stringpiece of the dock. For an instant it balanced as if it meant to topple over into the launch below, but finally it settled back and fell with a heavy thud on the floor of the wharf. As it did so one of the end boards flew off under the strain, and the receptacle gaped open. By this time the group from the _Beale_ were quite close by, and Ned’s sharp eyes fell on some shiny metal apparatus inside the case. Stanley saw it at the same instant, and so did Herc.