“It isn’t such a queer lingo,” said Frank. “It’s Portuguese, and that language is very like Spanish.”
“Well, I never did like Spanish. But what do you guess is going on?”
“Give it up, unless there’s going to be a fight between the revolutionists and the regulars.”
“Say, are you looking for trouble?” asked Frank, with a laugh.
“No, but if it’s coming our way, I’m not going to dodge it very hard,” Ned answered, grimly.
The two battleship boys strolled about the town a little longer, and then made their way to the boat landing, for it was nearly time to start back for the _Georgetown_.
“This looks like an American quarter,” said Frank, as they passed a place where several signs, in distinctly American names, were to be seen.
“It is,” said a petty officer, who was walking along with them. “And if there’s any trouble going to happen it will happen right here, in this quarter.”
“What do you mean?” asked Frank, quickly.
“Oh, nothing,” was the evasive answer. It was evident that the petty officer had said more than he intended to. “It’s just as well to know,” he went on, “where the American quarter of any foreign city is located. There’s no telling when one may need the information.”
Something in the officer’s words and manner impressed Frank. Dropping a little to the rear he whispered to his brother:
“Ned, open your eyes and take a good look around this place.”
“So you’ll know it again. I have an idea we’ll need to know it. Maybe we’ll have a scrap in it sooner than we expect.”
“That’s just what I mean. There’s trouble brewing, and it isn’t far off!”
Ned did as his brother advised, and made a mental map of the streets of what might be designated the “American quarter” of Pectelo. It was not large, and was only a short distance from the water front.
A large number of the citizens of the South American city gathered to witness the departure of the blue-jackets for their battleship. And here again, in spite of the fact that some of the inhabitants cheered while others scowled, Ned and Frank could not help noticing that there was that same curious air of expectancy—as if something was about to happen.
But there was nothing out of the usual as the sailors took to the cutters and began steaming back to the _Georgetown_. They had had their shore leave and felt all the better for it.
