Greatly alarmed by what Gale had told her concerning the Camera Chap’s
peril, Virginia lost no time in seeking an interview with her father.
She found the latter seated in his library engaged in the preparation
of a long dispatch to Washington. He looked up from his cipher code
with a frown as she entered.
“Some other time, my dear; I am exceedingly busy just now,” he
protested. “This dispatch has got to be sent off at once.”
“But I can’t wait,” the girl announced. “The business I want to talk
over with you is more important than what you are doing. Unless,”
she added, with a flash of intuition, “that telegram you are writing
concerns the arrest of Mr. Hawley.”
The United States minister swung around in his swivel chair and
regarded his daughter with surprise. “How on earth did you guess that?”
he demanded.
“Then it is about Mr. Hawley!” the girl exclaimed joyously. “You are
cabling the state department that you are going to get him out of
prison immediately?”
Minister Throgmorton shook his head. “On the contrary, my dear, I am
informing Washington that we can do nothing for him, except to make
sure that he gets a fair trial,” he said coldly. “The young man has
only himself to blame for his predicament. If he is guilty of the
serious offense with which he is charged--and I am given to understand
that the government of Baracoa has the strongest kind of a case against
him--he must suffer the consequences. The United States government
cannot afford to affront a friendly nation by acting in behalf of a
mercenary adventurer who has been caught red-handed as a spy for the
revolutionists.”
“But Mr. Hawley isn’t a mercenary adventurer,” Virginia protested. “Nor
is he a revolutionary spy. I happen to know that he----” She stopped
short, suddenly realizing the danger of completing what she had started
out to say. In her zeal to save her plucky friend, she had been about
to take her father into her confidence concerning the worthy mission
which had brought the snapshot wizard to Baracoa, but just in time she
recalled that she had made a promise to Hawley that, no matter what
happened, she would not give away his secret.
Observing her hesitancy, Throgmorton looked at her keenly. “You happen
to know that he is--what?” he demanded sharply.
“I happen to know that he is a newspaper man,” the girl replied
evasively.
“A _Sentinel_ man, you mean,” the diplomat rejoined tartly. “That
certainly is nothing in his favor. My own experience with that
sensational sheet has been quite sufficient to convince me that
everybody connected with it is capable of almost anything.”
Virginia’s blue eyes flashed indignantly. “And that is why you are
taking this attitude toward Mr. Hawley,” she said bitterly. “Just
because the paper he represents has been unkind to you in its
editorial columns you have made up your mind not to interfere in his
behalf. It is incredible to me, father, that you could be as small as
that.”
The diplomat frowned. “I think you forget yourself, my dear Virginia,”
he said with dignity. “Your insinuation is not only disrespectful, it
is preposterous. I hope that I am conscientious enough not to allow
my personal prejudices to influence me in the discharge of my duty.
By the way,” he added sharply, “might I inquire why you appear to be
so greatly interested in the fate of this spy? Surely it cannot be
possible that you number him among your friends?”
“I do,” the girl answered warmly. “He is the bravest, most unselfish
man I have ever met, and I am proud to be able to say that he is my
friend. And what’s more,” she added, a light of determination in her
blue eyes, “whether you will do anything for him or not, he’s not going
to be made the victim of Portiforo’s vengeance if I can help it.”
Her father’s frown deepened. “My dear child, you are talking most
intemperately. The object of your misplaced sympathy is not going to
be made the victim of anybody’s vengeance. You can rest assured, as
I said before, that he will have a fair and impartial trial. As the
representative of his country I shall see to that. And that is all that
he or any other fair-minded person could expect me to do for him.”
“It isn’t all,” the girl protested. “There needn’t be any trial at all
if you don’t wish it. You have sufficient personal influence with the
Portiforo administration to have him set free even though he were
guilty.”
Minister Throgmorton shrugged his shoulders. “I fear that you
overestimate my power, my dear,” he said deprecatingly. “However, even
if I had sufficient influence, I don’t think I should feel justified in
using it in that way. The prisoner’s demeanor is scarcely such as to
entitle him to clemency. His bearing toward the authorities is almost
defiant; and, as for his attitude toward me----”
Virginia interrupted him with an excited exclamation. “You have been to
see him?” she inquired eagerly.
“Yes; I called at the arsenal immediately after his arrest. I deemed it
my duty to interview him.” He paused, and an expression of annoyance
came to his face. “But I could get absolutely nothing out of him. The
fellow was almost contemptuous in his refusal to answer my questions.
No; I certainly shouldn’t feel like doing any more than my duty calls
for to help him.”
After some further pleading and argument, Virginia went out of the
room convinced that so far as her father was concerned the Camera Chap
was a doomed man. For a while she was in despair; then an idea came
to her which caused her to order the touring car and journey therein
to Puerto Cabero. Arrived at the seaport, she went down to the wharf
which the _Kearsarge’s_ launches were using for a landing. One of the
battleship’s graceful little fifty-footers had just come in with a
liberty party of jackies. Virginia addressed a natty young officer in
charge of the men. “Is this boat going right back to the battleship?”
she inquired.
“In a few minutes, miss. Do you wish to go?”
“If Captain Cortrell is there. I must see him immediately.”
The officer replied that she would find the commanding officer in his
cabin, and a few minutes later Virginia was speeding over the water
toward the big gray fighter. As she reached the warship’s side and
stepped to the main deck her hopes suddenly soared. The sight of the
guns protruding from the grim turrets, and the sturdy, white-jacketed
boys from her own land swarming over the decks, was decidedly
reassuring. Somehow, in spite of what her father had said, she could
not believe that the ruler of a “fussy little banana republic”--as
she was wont to refer contemptuously to Baracoa--would dare to go to
extreme lengths with a citizen of a country powerful enough to own such
engines of destruction as this.
When the officer of the deck learned her identity he conducted her at
once to the commanding officer’s cabin. Captain Cortrell had already
met her at the embassy when he had called there to pay his respects to
her father. The smile which came now to his weather-beaten countenance
betokened how delighted he was to renew the acquaintance; for grim old
sea dog though he was, he was always glad to see a pretty face aboard
his vessel, especially when that pretty face belonged to one of his own
countrywomen. His smile abruptly disappeared, however, when he learned
the object of Virginia’s visit, and he shook his grizzled head sadly.
“I regret to say, Miss Throgmorton, that I am powerless to do anything.
I sympathize greatly with Mr. Hawley, and, unofficially, would do
anything in my power to help him, but you must realize that officially
my hands are tied.”
“I don’t realize anything of the sort!” Virginia cried impetuously. “If
you were to go to Portiforo and tell him that unless he releases your
countryman immediately the _Kearsarge’s_ guns will wipe Baracoa off the
map, I am confident that he would be impressed.”
Captain Cortrell received this suggestion with a laugh, but that the
girl had struck a responsive chord within him was evident by the glint
which came to his eyes. “I don’t mind admitting that such a step is
exactly the one I’d like to take,” he confided to her. “But, of course,
it is quite out of the question. You must see that. Your father is in
command of the situation here. I could not presume to go over the head
of the United States minister.”
“This is no time for red tape,” the girl protested. “What does it
matter whose head you go over when the life of a brave man is in
danger?” Her voice suddenly became softly coaxing. “I feel sure you,
too, are a brave man, Captain Cortrell. Why not take the chance? Other
American commanders have taken chances.”
The naval officer cut her short with another laugh. “I hate to forfeit
your good opinion, Miss Throgmorton,” he said dryly, “but I am
afraid I can’t let you tempt me to be guilty of such a gross breach
of discipline. Why not try that line of argument on your father?” he
suggested. “I will promise you this much--if you can persuade him to
make a formal request to me to take steps to bring about Mr. Hawley’s
release, I will proceed to take whatever action may be necessary,
immediately, without waiting to hear from Washington.”
Virginia shook her head. “I know my father’s disposition too well to
have any hope of being able to change his mind once it is made up,”
she said. Then, suddenly her face brightened. “Well, anyway, I suppose
it won’t do any harm to try,” she exclaimed. Without telling Captain
Cortrell of the new idea which had come to her, she hurried from the
warship and back to San Cristobal.