Ferne stared, then curled his lip.  “Gramercy for your hint,” he said.  “I pray you that henceforth we become the best of strangers.”

A shout arose, and Sedley bore down upon them, his right arm high, crumpled in his hand the folds, tarnished with smoke, riddled by shot, of the great ensign.  It was the beginning of the end.  Half an hour later the red cross of St. George usurped the place of the golden flag.  That same afternoon the Cygnet and the San Jose—­the latter now manned by an English crew, with her former masters under hatches—­appeared before La Rancheria, stormed the little settlement, and found there a slight treasure of pearls.  More than this was accomplished, for, boat-load after boat-load, the Spanish survivors of the fight were transferred from the galleon to a strip of lonely shore, and there left to shift for themselves.  One only of all that force the Captain of the Cygnet detained, and that was the man who had used the tongue of England and the sword of Spain.  With the sunset the Mere Honour and the Marigold, having left desolation behind them at New Cadiz, joined the Cygnet and her prize where they lay at anchor between the two spits of sand that formed the harbor of La Rancheria.

In the Mere Honour’s state-cabin the Admiral of the expedition formally embraced and thanked his Captain, whose service to the common cause had been so great.  It was, indeed, of magnitude.  Not many hours had passed between the frenzy of battle and this sunshiny morning; but time had been made and strength had been found to look to the cargo of the San Jose”.  If wealth be good, it was worth the looking to, for not the Cacafuego had a richer lading.  Gold and silver, ingots and bars and wrought images, they found, and a great store of precious stones.  To cap all fortune, there was the galleon’s self, a great ship, seaworthy yet, despite the wounds of yesterday, mounting many guns, well supplied with powder, ammunition, and military stores, English now in heart, and lacking nothing but an English name.  This they gave her that same day.  In the smoke and thunder of every cannon royal within the fleet San Jose” vanished, and in his place arose the Phoenix.

Exultant, flushed, many of them bearing wounds, the officers of the expedition and the gentlemen adventurers who had staked with them crowded the cabin of the Mere Honour.  The sunshine streaming through the windows showed in high light bandaged heads or arms and faces haggard with victory.  Wine had been spilled, and in the air there was yet the savor of blood.  About each man just breathed some taint of savagery that was not yet beaten back after yesterday’s wild outburst and breaking of the bars.  In some it took the form of the sleek stillness of the tiger; others were loud-voiced, restless, biting at their nails.  Only to a few was it given to bear triumph soberly, with room for other thoughts; to the most