It is effective, at least, for the waiter arrives with a little of everything that the kitchen affords and Ashley manages to make out a meal.
Meanwhile he has noticed that his efforts at Spanish have vastly entertained a gentleman who sits at the table beyond and facing him. Particularly broad was his smile when the order for "gallinoso" was given. As Jack leisurely sorts out the most appetizing-looking of the array of greasy viands, he remarks: "If you were as hungry as I, senor, my attempts to secure a breakfast might strike you as being more tragic than humorous."
"I meant no offense," replies the senor. "You would yourself smile if you knew what 'gallinoso' is."
"So? What may it be, an octopus or a mule?"
"Almost as bad as either. It is a turkey buzzard."
"Ah, yes; they were probably just out of turkey buzzards. Oh, well, I'll get the hang of the language before I leave Cuba."
"Undoubtedly. It is easy of acquisition. You have, I assume, provided yourself with a phrase-book."
"A magnificent affair. It contains every possible phrase except the ones I have occasion to use."
The two finish their repast about the same time, and as they stroll out upon the veranda to enjoy the long, strong cigar that inevitably follows a Cuban breakfast the senor remarks:
"You are an American, I judge."
"New York," is the terse response.
"Have you been in Cuba long?"
"About two hours."
"Indeed? I was not aware that any steamers arrived to-day."
"Because of the blockade, eh? But I dropped in on the cruiser America."
"You are of the service?"
"No; I am just a plain American citizen."
"Well, senor, this is hardly a desirable time for Americans or others to visit Cuba."
"An eminently proper time for one in my line of business," replies Ashley. "I am a newspaper correspondent."
