A PLUNGE INTO SOCIETY
"Welcome, my lads!" greeted the Spanish ambassador, grasping the lads
warmly by the hand. They had been led into a broad hall by a footman and
then on into a drawing room brilliantly lighted.
The boys had never gazed upon such a brilliant scene; for a moment they
were too dazed to speak. Suddenly they realized that the ambassador was
introducing his wife, Madame Martinez. Then a beautiful, dark-eyed girl
was led forward.
"This, young gentlemen, is my daughter, Señorita Inez Martinez, to whom
we hoped you might owe your liberty. Happily, however, for you, your own
consul succeeded in getting you released before the matter was brought
to my attention. I trust you have suffered no ill effects from your
unjust imprisonment?"
"No; thank you," answered Dan.
"On the contrary, it was a mighty good thing for us," spoke up Hickey.
"How so?" asked the ambassador.
Dan nudged his companion, but there was no stopping Sam when he once got
started.
"Why, sir, these get-rich-quick people would have had all our money by
this time. I never saw anything like it."
"You do not mean that you have been robbed?"
"Oh, no," interrupted Dan. "You see, we do not know the ways of the
country. We thought we had paid too much for some things. It is all good
experience, however, and we are not finding fault."
"Ah! I hope you like Paris? I take it, this is your first visit here?"
suggested the ambassador's wife.
"Is it not a glorious city?" added the daughter.
"Yes," agreed Dan, "it is a wonderful city."
"I don't think so," objected Sam. "I've had a hard time of it ever since
I came here--that is--until--until to-night," as he noted the eyes of
the beautiful señorita fixed upon him.
Somehow her voice had a strangely familiar ring to him. He felt sure
that he had heard it before, but the more he thought about it the more
perplexed did he grow. The young woman seemed to divine what was passing
through the red-headed boy's mind. She smiled teasingly, then began
talking as if to give him further opportunity to make up his mind where
he had seen her before.
Dan, too, was puzzled, but he concealed his perplexity better than Sam
had. Davis was growing quite at his ease. It seemed to him as though he
had always been with people of this sort, and he found himself talking
easily and well, discussing many subjects with which the average sailor
is not expected to be familiar.
"I take it that you lads hope to be petty officers one of these days,"
said Señor Martinez.
"We have already won our ratings in that class, sir."
"Indeed. What is your rating, if I may ask?"
"I am a gunner's mate on the Battleship 'Long Island.' My friend is a
coxswain connected with the same ship."
"Do you--do you shoot the big guns?" questioned Señorita Inez, with a
brilliant smile.
"I hope to do so, some day--that is, I hope to do so at target practice,
though I trust the time may never come when I shall have to train a gun
on the ship of another government."
"I am with you in that, my lad. I hope it may never be your lot to do
so. Of course you have ambitions to rise in your profession?"
"Yes, sir; it is our hope to become officers of the line at some time in
the distant future."
The ambassador nodded thoughtfully.
"It is a splendid career that your Navy offers. Any man who has it in
him to advance himself may do so. The opportunities are unlimited."
"Yes, sir; but the way is hard."
"All things worth having are difficult of attainment. Were they not,
there would not be rooms for those at the top," smiled the Señor.
The dinner was the most elaborate that the Battleship Boys had ever sat
down to. Their host was in uniform and the ladies were in evening gowns,
while behind the chairs of each stood a servant in livery.
The Battleship Boys were filled with wonder over what had befallen them.
Strangely enough, their host seemed quite familiar with their records,
and all about their experiences with the Paris Apaches and gendarmes.
Señor Martinez appeared to take a keen enjoyment in their perplexity,
though he was forced to admit that Gunner's Mate Davis was sufficiently
well-bred to hide his curiosity.
At last the dinner came to an end, whereupon the party withdrew to the
drawing room.
"Shall I sing for you?" asked the señorita, with a flash of her black
eyes.
"I should be most happy to hear you," replied Dan courteously.
"Yes; I like singing," added Sam. "The singing we hear on board ship,
sometimes, makes you wish you could jump overboard."
A well-bred laugh greeted his announcement.
"Do you sing?" questioned the young woman.
"I thought I did once."
"When was that?"
"At a Sunday-school picnic that I attended at home in Piedmont."
"Oh! And did you sing?"
"They all said I didn't. They said my voice was a poor imitation of a
steam calliope."
The well-bred laughter of the little company was lost in a roar. A
glance at Hickey's twinkling eyes told them that he was far from dull,
and that he was enjoying the fun he was creating fully as much as the
rest were.
"So, you didn't sing after all?"
"No, I didn't sing. I just made a noise that might have been singing--if
it had been."
Thus the evening passed, full of song, of laughter and brightness.
Dan, after a time, glanced at a French clock on the mantle. He gave a
start when he noted that it lacked but fifteen minutes of midnight.
"Oh, we must be going, sir. I did not know it was so late," he said,
half rising.
"In a moment, my lad. I presume you are somewhat curious as to why I
invited you to my home this evening?" questioned Señor Martinez
quizzically.
"We are, indeed, sir. I have been wondering why you should do such a
thing. We are just plain American sailors, sir, serving our country as
best we know how. We are not used to being received in the splendid way
you have received us to-night."
"My lad, that was well said. It has been an honor to have you here. We
have felt the keenest pleasure in being able to ask you. As for your
being plain American sailors, let me say that such men as you and your
friend would be a credit to any Navy. I congratulate yours in possessing
you. Can you not guess why you have been invited here this evening?"
"I have not the slightest idea, sir."
"No, we're all at sea, and I guess that's the proper place for sailor
lads," added Sam.
"I had very good reasons. You have done myself and family a very great
service."
"A service?" exclaimed Hickey wonderingly.
"Yes. And let me say here that perhaps I never should have known of you,
had not my wife and daughter insisted that I look you up and ask you to
come here. They have purchased a little gift for each of you, which you
will find at your pension upon your return. I have had it sent there so
that you may have a little surprise when you reach your lodgings."
The boys did not answer. There was nothing they could think of to say.
"Have you not noted anything that struck you as familiar about my wife
and daughter?"
"Mr. Hickey has," interjected the young woman, with a merry twinkle in
her eyes, "He has been wondering all the evening where he has seen me or
heard my voice."
"That's the time you hit the target right in the center," answered the
red-headed boy. "If I'd been a ship, and that had been a projectile you
had fired at me, I'd been headed for Davy Jones's Locker by this time."
The girl laughed merrily.
"I'll tell you, my lads; you saw my wife and daughter last evening."
"Last night!" exclaimed the boys.
"Yes."
"Where, may I ask?"
"On the Bois de Boulogne. It was they whom you saved from the terrible
Apaches, who no doubt would have put them to death after having robbed
them. You see, my lads, myself and family have reason for feeling that
we owe you a deep debt of gratitude."
"Is it possible?" muttered Dan Davis, looking from one to the other of
the smiling faces.
"Well, all I've got to say is that it was worth going to jail for,"
added Sam Hickey, with an admiring glance at the señorita.