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Mr Fosset and Garry O'Neil were equally enthusiastic. "Faith, now, sor!" observed the latter, with a comical air of assured deference at my future dignified position, as he imagined it would be, "I hope ye'll remember ye'r humble ould fri'nd Garry whim ye're Prisidint of the Venezuelan Raypublic, mid a lot of yaller divvles for lackeys, an' so many dollars that ye won't know what to do wid 'em.
"Sure, we're dyin' to hear the end of your scrimmage with those black divvles!" Colonel Vereker heaved a sigh. "Well, I ought not to doubt that the good God is watching over my little, darling daughter after what I have just learnt, my friends," said he in a more hopeful tone than his depressed manner indicated, looking round at us with his large, melancholy, dark eyes. "I ought not to despair!"
"Hooray!" shouted Garry O'Neil, as we all immediately jumped from our seats on hearing this joyful intelligence, long though it had been in coming, even the poor colonel, sliding his bandaged leg off its supporting chair and standing on his feet, prepared to follow the skipper on deck without a moment's delay. "Be the powers! I knew we'd overhaul them divvles before sundown!
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