“I’m sorry I can’t speak the language, Stedman,” said Gordon, “or I would tell them what a brave man you are.  You are too modest to do it yourself, even if I dictated something for you to say.  As for me,” he said, pulling off his uniform, “I am thoroughly disgusted and disappointed.  It never occurred to me until it was all over that this was my chance to be a war correspondent.  It wouldn’t have been much of a war, but then I would have been the only one on the spot, and that counts for a great deal.  Still, my time may come.”

“We have a great deal on hand for to-morrow,” said Gordon that evening, “and we had better turn in early.”

And so the people were still singing and rejoicing down in the village when the two conspirators for the peace of the country went to sleep for the night.  It seemed to Gordon as though he had hardly turned his pillow twice to get the coolest side when some one touched him, and he saw, by the light of the dozen glowworms in the tumbler by his bedside, a tall figure at its foot.

“It’s me—­Bradley,” said the figure.

“Yes,” said Gordon, with the haste of a man to show that sleep has no hold on him; “exactly; what is it?”

“There is a ship of war in the harbor,” Bradley answered in a whisper.  “I heard her anchor chains rattle when she came to, and that woke me.  I could hear that if I were dead.  And then I made sure by her lights; she’s a great boat, sir, and I can know she’s a ship of war by the challenging when they change the watch.  I thought you’d like to know, sir.”

Gordon sat up and clutched his knees with his hands.  “Yes, of course,” he said; “you are quite right.  Still, I don’t see what there is to do.”

He did not wish to show too much youthful interest, but though fresh from civilization, he had learned how far from it he was, and he was curious to see this sign of it that had come so much more quickly than he had anticipated.

“Wake Mr. Stedman, will you?” said he, “and we will go and take a look at her.”

“You can see nothing but the lights,” said Bradley, as he left the room; “it’s a black night, sir.”

Stedman was not new from the sight of men and ships of war, and came in half dressed and eager.

“Do you suppose it’s the big canoe Messenwah spoke of?” he said.

“I thought of that,” said Gordon.

The three men fumbled their way down the road to the plaza, and saw, as soon as they turned into it, the great outlines and the brilliant lights of an immense vessel, still more immense in the darkness, and glowing like a strange monster of the sea, with just a suggestion here and there, where the lights spread, of her cabins and bridges.  As they stood on the shore, shivering in the cool night-wind, they heard the bells strike over the water.

“It’s two o’clock,” said Bradley, counting.

“Well, we can do nothing, and they cannot mean to do much to-night,” Albert said.  “We had better get some more sleep, and, Bradley, you keep watch and tell us as soon as day breaks.”