As the minutes glided by in the midst of that profound silence, a fresh
kind of feverish feeling began to steal over Fitz. There in the
distance, apparently beyond the dome of great stars which lit up the
blackish purple heavens, was the dull glowing cloud which looked like
one that the sunset had left behind; beneath that were the twinkling
lights of the town, and between the schooner and that, a broad black
plain of darkness, looking like a layer which extended as high as the
top of the masts.
But as Fitz looked down, it was to see that the blackness below his feet
was transparent and all in motion with tiny glowing specks gliding here
and there as if being swept along by a powerful current.
There were moments when he could have fancied that he was gazing into a
huge black mirror which reflected the vast dome of stars, but he knew by
experience that these moving greenish golden specks were no orbs of
light but the tiny phosphorescent medusas gliding in all directions
through the transparent water, and every now and then combining to emit
a pale green bluish flash of light, as some fish made the current swirl
by giving a swoop with its tail.
Moment by moment in the silence all seemed to grow more and more unreal,
more dream-like, till he felt ready to declare that all was fancy, that
he had heard no splash of a coming boat, and that the next minute he
would start into wakefulness and find that it was all imagination.
Then all at once he was listening with every nerve on the strain,
wishing that he knew Spanish instead of Latin, for a low clear voice
arose out of the darkness, saying, as he afterwards learned--
"Aboard the English vessel there! Where are you? I have lost my way."
The skipper answered directly in Spanish.
There was a quick interchange of words, and then the latter gave an
order in English which came as a relief to Fitz and made his heart jump,
suggesting as it did that the next minute there was going to be a fight.
"Get the lads all round you, Burgess, and be on the alert. It seems all
right, but it may be a bit of Spanish treachery, so look out."
As he was speaking Fitz with straining eyes and ear saw that the pale
golden green water was being lifted from the surface of the sea and
falling back like dull golden metal in patches, with an interval of
darkness between them, the bestirred water looking like so much molten
ore as it splashed about.
Then there was the scraping of a boat-hook against the side, close to
the gangway, and the dimly-seen figure of a man scrambling on board.
No enemy certainly, for Fitz made out that the newcomer grasped both the
captain's hands in his, and began talking to him in a low eager excited
tone, the captain's responses, given in the man's own tongue, sounding
short and sharp, interspersed too with an angry ejaculation or two. The
conversation only lasted about five minutes, and then the visitor turned
back to the side, uttered an order in a low tone which caused a little
stir in the boat below, and stepped down. Fitz could hear him crossing
the thwarts to the stern, and the craft was pushed off. Then the golden
splashes in the sea came regularly once more, to grow fainter and
fainter, in the direction of the city lights; and then they were alone
in the silence and darkness of the night.
It was not Fitz's fault that he heard what followed, for the skipper
came close up to where he was standing with Poole, followed by the mate,
who had sent the men forward as soon as the boat was gone.
"Well," said the skipper, "it's very unfortunate."
"Is it?" said the mate gruffly.
"Yes. Couldn't you hear?"
"I heard part of what he said, but my Spanish is very bad, especially if
it's one of these mongrel half Indian-bred fellows who is talking. You
had better tell me plainly how matters stand."
"Very well. Horribly badly. Things have gone wrong since we left
England. Our friends were too venturesome, and they were regularly
trapped, with the result that they were beaten back out of the town, and
the President's men seized the fort, got hold of their passwords and the
signalling flags that they had in the place, and answered our signals,
so that they took me in. If it had not been for his man's coming
to-night with a message from Don Ramon, we should have sailed right into
the trap as soon as it was day, and been lying under the enemy's guns."
"Narrow escape, then," said the mate.
"Nearly ruin," was the reply.
"But hold hard a minute. Suppose, after all, this is a bit of a trick,
a cooked-up lie to cheat us."
"Not likely," said the skipper. "What good would it do the enemy to
send us away when they had all we brought under their hand? Besides,
this messenger had a password to give me that must have been right."
"You know best," said the mate gruffly. "Then what next?"
"Up anchor at once, and we sail round the foreland yonder till we can
open out the other valley and the river's mouth twenty miles along the
coast. Don Ramon and his men are gathering at Velova, and they want our
munition badly there."
"Right," said the mate abruptly. "Up anchor at once? Make a big
offing, I suppose?"
"No, we must hug the coast. I dare say they will have a gunboat
patrolling some distance out--a steamer--and with these varying winds
and calms we should be at their mercy. If we are taken, Don Ramon's
cause is ruined, poor fellow, and the country will be at the mercy of
that half-savage, President Villarayo. Brute! He deserves to be hung!"
"I don't like it," said Burgess gruffly.
"You don't like it!" cried the skipper. "What do you mean?"
"What do I mean? Why, from here to Velova close in it's all rock-shoal
and wild current. It's almost madness to try and hug the coast."
"Oh, I see. But it's got to be done, Burgess. You didn't take
soundings and bearings miles each way for nothing last year."
"Tchah!" growled the mate. "One wants an apprenticeship to this coast.
I'll do what you want, of course, but I won't be answerable for taking
the _Teal_ safely into that next port."
"Oh yes, you will," said the skipper quietly. "If I didn't think you
would I should try to do it myself. Now then, there's no time to waste.
Look yonder. There's something coming out of the port now--a steamer,
I believe, from the way she moves, and most likely it's in reply to our
signals, and they're coming out to give us a surprise." The mate stood
for a few moments peering over the black waters in the direction of the
indicated lights.
"Yes," he growled, "that's a steamer; one of their gunboats, I should
say, and they are coming straight for here."
"How does he know that?" whispered Fitz, as the skipper and the mate now
moved away.
"The lights were some distance apart," replied Poole, "and they've swung
round till one's close behind the other. Now look, whatever the steamer
is she is coming straight for here. Fortunately there is a nice
pleasant breeze, but I hope we shall not get upon any of these fang-like
rocks."
"Yes, I hope so too," said Fitz excitedly; and then Poole left him, and
he stood listening to the clicking of the capstan as the anchor was
raised, while some of the crew busily hoisted sail, so that in a few
minutes' time the schooner began to heel over from the pressure of the
wind and glide away, showing that the anchor was clear of the soft ooze
in which it had lain.