Some time after this the captain, seated in his cabin with Stark, who was listening with deep attention to the elder man while he outlined his plans, started up at a sudden noise borne in from the deck. It was an agonized wail of protest from one of the crew. Both occupants of the cabin sprang up, and, rushing up the companionway, gazed forward. They saw Stanley with raised gun prodding a reluctant gun-swabber to his work. All about was a scene of activity. Ned and Herc were already drilling a crew in the task of loading in American fashion, which was just five times as fast as the native way. A scene of activity of the most feverish character had succeeded to the leisurely appearance of things when the Americans came on board. The native officers stood about gazing on, astonished at the rapid change which was coming over their slovenly ship. “Ah, you Americans! You’ll turn the world upside down some day!” breathed the captain admiringly. CHAPTER XVIII. A BOARD OF STRATEGY. The chart showed Santa Anna to be a harbor not unlike in formation that of Boca del Sierras. Instead of the town lying on a flat, however, it actually climbed up the sides of the steep range which sloped down to the water’s edge. Geographers have termed Costaveza a country set on edge. On no part of it was this characteristic more marked than at Santa Anna. But this feature interested the two persons in the captain’s cabin of the _General Barrill_ less than certain red-inked portions of the coast line, marked “Forts.” These forts, the captain informed Midshipman Stark, were built in the rock above Santa Anna, and rendered the place practically impregnable from the sea. “Then how are we to get in after the insurgent ships?” asked Stark, who had been informed that the captured vessels were lying inside the landlocked harbor, under the very guns of the forts, awaiting word to set out for Boca del Sierras. This, of course, would not be till the two armies had effected a juncture. As the young officer asked the question, the captain smiled somewhat grimly. “They will come out to us,” was his reply. “Come out to us!” The boy’s voice held a note of astonishment, as well it might. “I beg your pardon, sir,” he went on, “but did I understand you correctly?” “Perfectly, my boy. The _General Barrill_ is capable of twenty-five knots. The fastest of the vessels lying in that harbor is the _Manueal Calvo_. She can make, under forced draught, about eighteen knots. The _Bolivar_ and the _Migueal de Barros_ are rebuilt steam yachts, and can almost come up to this pace, but I don’t imagine that they’ll want to burn coal at that rate unless they have to.” The midshipman looked puzzled. “I see that you have some plan, sir, but for the life of me I cannot comprehend it.” “Well,” smiled the South American seaman, “you have seen in your country a retriever follow and make desperate efforts to capture a lame duck?” “Why, yes, but I don’t see----”