“Yes, and they are fighting for their liberty, too.”

“How did they like being photographed?” asked Tommy.

“Tickled to death.  When I asked them to line up they almost fell over each other.  Next to eating, I think the poor devils love to have their pictures taken.  They were just like children, and when I pressed the button they stood round waiting for the photograph to drop from the kodak.”

“Reminds me of the Cubans of Puerto Principe when the railway was built to that place,” put in “Zere,” the chief quartermaster.  “A temporary roundhouse had been constructed, and when the first locomotive reached the city and was placed in it to be cleaned, all the natives from miles around gathered there.  They crowded the windows and doors and were evidently waiting for something.  Finally the engineer asked one of them what he wanted to see.  ‘We watch for mule to come out,’ was the startling reply.”

“Mule?” echoed Flagg.

“Yes, that was the only motive power known to them,” grinned “Zere.”  “They thought even a Yankee engine must have a mule somewhere inside.”

“That’s like the natives of Guatemala,” spoke up “Hop,” the messenger.  “When the street cars were introduced it was the usual thing for a native wishing to ride, to mount the platform and knock politely on the door.  Some one inside would rise and open it, and then the native would enter and shake hands all round.”

“Fancy doing that on a Broadway cable car,” laughed “Stump.”

Our imagination was not strong enough for that.

The Cuban guests remained with us for several hours, then went ashore, together with a boat-load of provisions contributed by the ship.

The whaleboat returned to the ship when the watch on deck had just been piped to supper.  The other watch, therefore, had the job of pulling her up.  The steady tramp, tramp, began and the boat slowly rose up foot by foot, till it was level with the rail, then there was a sudden jar and a crash.  In an instant six men of the crew were in the water, while the boat floated away by itself.

There was a rush of feet on deck, loud shouts and cries of “Throw them a rope,” “Set adrift the life buoy,” “Where’s that life belt?” and the like.

The men at mess jumped up, overturning cups and plates and dishes of food.  One forecastle man pulled off his jumper and dove in to help.

The sea ladder was put over the side and “Long Tommy” went down it, taking with him a piece of line; this he slipped under the arms of Rowland, the forecastle man, who had struck an oar on the way down, and was hurt.  The man was soon hauled up on deck.  The other four were also rescued.  One went floating calmly off on the life buoy and was picked up by the gig, and the rest caught rope-ends and were safely hauled aboard, none the worse for their involuntary bath.

Lines were coiled down again, the sea ladder unshipped and put in its place, and soon all was quiet and shipshape again—­but we discovered that two spit kits and a monkey-wrench had been thrown overboard to aid the sinking sailors.