With an ample shrug of his shoulders, the Spaniard suggested that the Captain might obtain all the water he wished if he would go in, leaving his cargo outside.  And then, as though weary of the subject, he turned to more congenial topics.  He thirsted for good wine; that fact was early elucidated, after which he rambled along indefinitely, allowing Dan to gather that all the officers of the fleet were also thirsting for wine.  At last he came straight to the point.

“A case—­a dozen bottles—­it would suffice—­it would be appreciated—­ah!”

Dan had an idea, and began to build upon it forthwith.

“Admiral,” he said, “there is much of what you seek aboard.  As you well know, Senor Howland never travels with empty lockers—­there is much of a certain wine that sparkles—­see?”

“I see, but I do not hear what I mean,” replied the perplexed Admiral, indulging nevertheless in anticipatory internal gratulations.

“Why, hang it, man, champagne!” The Admiral’s beady eyes danced.  “Mr. Howland desires me to say that it is his wish that the friendly relations between his officers and those of the navy of San Blanco shall never wane.  There will, in short, be a dinner in half an hour to the officers of the fleet.”

“A dinnaire!” Congosto sprang forward and embraced his prospective host, and five minutes later was speeding to his ship, the bearer of glad news.  For, behold, where he thought to meet an enemy, devious and tricky, he had encountered instead, a friend, generous, hospitable!

“I fail to see your play, quite, Captain Merrithew,” grumbled Mr. Howland.

“Well,” interpolated Virginia, “it was a very interesting play.  Captain, I had no idea you could be so eloquent.”

“Thank you,” laughed Dan.  “Mr. Howland,” he added, “I shall make my play plain very shortly.  All I ask now is that you have your party assemble at the rail when the officers arrive and receive them as though they were representatives of the British Navy.  They will be conducted to the saloon.  Let no one of the party follow them in.  Please make that clear.”

The guests came—­in gigs, in launches, dinghies, and longboats—­came with laughter, came with rejoicing, for they were to dine with the senor of the open hand, Senor Howland, who always opened wine as they would open tins of beef.  The gods never repaired more blithely to a Bacchanalian revel on Parnassus.  Two by two, in rigid order of rank they were escorted into the saloon, and the eloquent popping of corks was as music in their ears.  The Admiral took his place at the head of the table; the rest disposed themselves suitably.

With a muttered excuse, Dan slipped out of a near-by door; the stewards disappeared; every one on the Tampico stole quietly away.

Admiral Congosto had no sooner raised his glass for the first toast than the two iron bulkhead doors slid together with a clang, followed by the rasp of bolts flying home.  The Admiral of the fleet and his lords commanders were hopelessly imprisoned amid the luxury of saloon surroundings, as hopelessly imprisoned as though they had been shut into the darkness of the lower hold.