At sea with the flag at the masthead of his navy, some more eloquent exposition of feelings might be forthcoming.
Abruptly the admiral departed with his crew. For the next three days they were busy giving the Estrella del Noche a new coat of white paint trimmed with blue. And then Felipe further adorned himself by fastening a handful of brilliant parrot’s plumes in his cap. Again he tramped with his faithful crew to the collector’s office and formally notified him that the sloop’s name had been changed to El Nacional.
During the next few months the navy had its troubles. Even an admiral is perplexed to know what to do without any orders. But none came. Neither did any salaries. El Nacional swung idly at anchor.
When Felipe’s little store of money was exhausted he went to the collector and raised the question of finances.
“Salaries!” exclaimed the collector, with hands raised; “Valgame Dios! not one centavo of my own pay have I received for the last seven months. The pay of an admiral, do you ask? Quién sabe? Should
