"Who knows? No one can foresee events. Our sailors are brave, and, if it should come to fighting, be assured they will do their share." Only one of the guests had remained silent during the breakfast, contenting himself with eating and drinking; while attentively listening to what was said around him. This guest was the lieutenant. So soon as the ship had started, he left the table, bowed to the company, and went on deck. "Your lieutenant is no talker, Commandant," Doña Mencia observed; "he only opened his lips to eat and drink." "That is true, Señorita; but pray excuse him, he is an old sailor, but little accustomed to society--he felt embarrassed and almost in his wrong place with you; but few men know their profession so well as he, or are so firm and intrepid in danger." At this moment a loud detonation made the vessel quiver. "Ah!" said Doña Mencia with a cry of terror, "What does that mean?" "Less than nothing, Señorita; we have merely hoisted our flag, and fired a blank shot, to oblige the brig to show her colours." "Would there be any danger in going on deck?" Doña Mencia asked with curiosity. "Not the least." "In that case, with your permission, we will go up and see what is happening." "I am at your orders, Señorita." The breakfast was over; they left the table and went up on the quarterdeck. The ship offered to the sight of persons unacquainted with naval affairs, a most singular and attractive appearance. The powerful breeze had bellied the sails; the corvette bounded over the waves like a gazelle, but did not take in a drop of water over the catheads. On deck, the crew were standing silent and motionless by the standing rigging, the gunners at their pieces, and the topmen at their posts. On the forecastle Ramirez and his sixteen men were collected near the head, apparently indifferent, but actually watching the movements of the Mexican. At about a gunshot and a half distant, the brig could be seen, from whose peak haughtily floated a large American flag. "I suspected it," said the Commandant, "it is a privateer, and has hoisted American colours to deceive us, but we are on our guard." "Do you think, then, that ship is not American?" Don Serapio asked. "No more than you are; it is an Argentine, or Brazilian privateer." "Still, it appears American built," "That proves nothing; our ships, bought in different countries, have nothing that causes them to be recognized, for we have no docks." "That is true; but look, she is going to tack." "Yes, the sails are beginning to shiver."