The little party strained their ears as they tramped silently on towards
the boat; but not a sound was heard suggesting that the enemy grasped
the fact that the strategy had been cleverly carried out. The dull
reflection of the fires had from time to time been faintly discernible
upon the low-hanging mist; but this soon died out, and fortune seemed to
be smiling kindly upon their efforts now.
"I'd give something to know what time it is," whispered Poole, and he
took a step nearer to his father to ask him how long he thought it would
be before day.
"I haven't the least idea, my boy," he replied. "The night has seemed
far too short, but it must be nearly at an end. But if we can once get
into the boat and reach the schooner I shall begin to hope that we may
reach Velova before the enemy."
"We have got much farther to go than they have, though, father."
"Yes, and everything will depend upon how long it is before the
reinforcements come and they make their advance. It may be hours yet,
and it may be before the break of day. There, don't talk to me again,
my lad; I want to think."
So it was in silence and darkness that the corduroy road was traversed,
and the rear-guard reached the little wharf to find the advance
gathered-together, waiting to fire or descend at once into the boat.
There was not a sound to be heard from the direction by which they had
come, and the skipper giving the order to embark at once, the men
stepped down carefully and well, till, dangerously packed, the order was
given to push off, Poole and Fitz being together in the stern, where the
skipper passed out an oar to steer, and they began rapidly to descend
the flooded stream.
"There must have been rain in the mountains," he said quietly, and then
aloud, "Sit fast, my lads, and keep her well in trim. Two oars out
there, just to give me steering way, but you need hardly pull.
Everything depends upon your keeping steady. There, boys," he said, to
those at his side, "we are none too soon. It's lightening yonder in the
east."
That morning the sun, as it rose high above the mist, shone down upon
the crowded decks of the schooner, her white sails glistening as the
land was left behind, with Poole and Fitz Burnett using the glass in
turn to watch the mouth of the little river; but they watched in vain,
for there was no sign of enemy hurrying to the bank, nothing to disturb
the peace and beauty of the scene.
Poole scuffled up to the masthead, glass in hand, and Fitz Burnett
followed him, to stand as near as he could, with the ratlines cutting
into his feet and a crick coming in the back of his neck, as he held on
tightly, and leaned back watching his companion's action, longing to get
hold of the glass and use it himself. In fact, he was suffering from
that impatience which often attacks us all and makes us feel as we watch
another's action how much better we could do it ourselves, from the
greatest matter down to such a trifle us untying a knot in a piece of
string. Meanwhile, with the white sails swelling out above and below,
and the double glass to his eye, the skipper's son was slowly sweeping
the coast-line, letting nothing escape him, as he looked in vain for
some sign of the enemy.
"See her, my boy?" came from the deck, and Fitz looked down, to see that
the skipper and Don Ramon were watching them.
"No, father," cried Poole. "I wasn't looking out to sea."
"Then why don't you?" cried the skipper angrily. "Are you trying to see
cocoanuts on the trees? Sweep the horizon, sir, and give us the first
notice of that gunboat's masts."
"All right, father," said the lad quietly, and he wrenched himself round
and made the lenses of the binocular slowly travel along the
horizon-line, as he rocked gently here and there with the action of the
schooner riding swiftly over the long smooth swell; for there was a
pleasant breeze, all possible sail was set, and they were rapidly
diminishing the distance between them and Velova Bay.
"See her?" said Fitz, as he noted that the skipper and his Spanish
friend had walked together forward--Don Ramon's followers, who crowded
the deck and sent up scores of tiny films of smoke from their
cigarettes, politely making way and forming quite a lane for their
leaders.
They were idling, chattering, and laughing together, the very types of a
party of idlers out on a sea-trip, and their rifles were leaning against
the bulwarks here and there, lying about the deck, or stuck in sheaves
together with their barrels appearing above the sides of the boats
swinging from the davits.
No one could have imagined from their careless indolent bearing that
they were posing as patriots, men who a short time before had escaped
from a deadly peril, and were now for aught they knew sailing straight
away into one as great.
They formed a strong contrast to the old men-of-war's men, who retained
their well-drilled bearing as the crew of the schooner, eager, alert,
and ready at any moment to spring to sheet and brace at the mate's
orders when they went upon another tack.
"No," replied Poole, after a long interval. "There's a shoal of fish
out yonder, and something sprang out farther to the east and went in
again with a splash, and there's a bad sign out yonder; cat's-paws on
the surface."
"You don't mean to say that it looks like a calm coming?"
"Just like that," said Poole slowly, with the glass still at his eye.
"Well?" rose from the deck, as the two chiefs came slowly back.
"Nothing, father--not a sign," cried Poole. "Well, you needn't stop up
there, my lad. Come down, and go up again in a quarter of an hour's
time."
Poole slipped the glass into the case slung from his left shoulder, laid
hold of a rope, and looked at his companion, who did the same, and they
slid down together and dropped upon the deck, to begin walking forward.
"I shan't be sorry," said Poole quietly, "when all these fellows are
ashore."
"Nor I neither," replied Fitz, and then he turned his head sharply, for
a familiar head was thrust out of the galley, where the stove was black
and cold.
"Weel, laddies," whispered the Camel, "I have had to put up the shutters
and shut up shop, for I canna pretend to feed all this lot; but ah'm
thenking ye'll feel a bit hungry now and then, and when ye do, joost go
below into the cahbin when there's naebody looking, and open the little
locker. I dinna mean to say another word, but--" He closed one
ferrety-looking red eye, laid a finger alongside of his nose, showed his
big teeth, and drew his head in again.
"A nod is as good as a wink to a blind horse," said Poole, laughing.
"Well done, Camel! But that's all you, Fitz."
"Nonsense! It was a hint for both."
"No. He has taken a fancy to you. He told me himself he had, and that
it was his doing that you got up your strength so quickly."
"Oh, gammon!" cried Fitz petulantly.
"No, it was what he calls his pheesic. He told me that when a man was
in bad health--crenky, he called it--that the thing to pull him round
was soup; and you know how he was always scheming something of the kind
for you. I shouldn't like to analyse too strictly what he made it of."
"Why, meat, of course," cried the middy. "I don't know," said Poole
dryly. "You see, it's not like being ashore; but you had soup pretty
well every day, and you said yourself that it tasted all right. But it
doesn't matter. It did you good."
"Don't you think we had better change the subject?" said Fitz sharply.
"Yes; and we'll go up aloft again. Coming?"
"Of course," was the reply.
They turned back to go aft towards the mainmast-shrouds, Don Ramon's
followers making room for them to pass; but as they reached the part of
the deck where they were going to ascend, they came upon the boatswain
looking as black as thunder.
"Hullo, Butters! Anything the matter?" said Poole. "Matter!" growled
the copper-faced old fellow. "Look at my deck--I mean, as much of it as
you can see. I am pretty nigh sick of this! A set of jabbering
monkeys; that's about what they are."
"Up aloft again, Poole?" cried the skipper. "Just going," was the
reply, and giving up his place by the starboard main-shrouds to Fitz,
the lad ran across the deck to the port side, where he began to ascend,
the pair meeting at the masthead upon equal terms. "Here, I'd give up
the glass to you," cried Poole, "but father mightn't like it, though
your eyes are as sharp or sharper than mine. I'll give one sweep round
and report to the deck, and then you shall have a turn."
Poole passed his arm round a stay and raised the glass to his eyes,
while Fitz took a turn round the rope with one leg, and waited,
thinking.
"Isn't such a bad fellow," he said to himself, as he watched the
captain's son, "but he's getting a little too familiar. He seems to
forget sometimes that I'm an officer; but there, it doesn't much matter,
and it won't last long."
"Well, my lad?" came from the deck.
"All clear, father," was the reply, and as Fitz glanced down he saw Don
Ramon place the cigarette he was holding between his teeth and clap his
hands, while from his crowd of followers who were looking on there
ascended a loud _Viva_!
And the hot day glided on.
There was a fair breeze, and the schooner fairly danced over the
laughing waters, sending shoals of flying-fish skimming out before them,
with their wing-like fins glistening like those of gigantic
dragon-flies, before they dropped back into the sea.
Rations were served out to the eager crowd, and a buzz of conversation
was kept up, to ascend to the two lads, who spent most of their time
aloft, watching, talking, and comparing notes about what a peaceful time
it seemed and how strange a contrast to the excitement of the previous
day and night.
"It's too good to be true, my lads," said the skipper quietly, as the
afternoon glided by. "We have made such a splendid run that it isn't
reasonable to expect fortune will favour us much farther."
"Ah, you think that?" said Don Ramon, who came up rolling a fresh
cigarette.
"Yes, sir, I do. In another hour we shall be round that headland, and
in sight of Velova if the mate keeps us clear of that long reef of rocks
which guards the bay."
"Ah, and then you think Villarayo will be waiting for us with his men?"
"Oh no," said the skipper; "I can't say for certain, but I should doubt
whether he has found out as yet that we are gone. I feel certain now
that he would not stir till all his reinforcements had reached him."
"That is right," said the Don eagerly, "and even then--I know our people
well--they will fight bravely twice, but it is very hard to move them
again. But you spoke as if you _were_ in doubt. What is it you
expect?"
"I expect, sir, that as soon as we get round that headland we shall see
the gunboat waiting for us, and ready to open fire. And once she gets
well within range--"
Reed stopped. "Yes, what then?" cried Don Ramon eagerly. The skipper
shrugged his shoulders. "What can we do, sir, with my schooner crowded
up like this?"
"Fly," said the Don, with his eyes flashing. "Of course; there is
nothing else to be done. But if they have decent men to work that gun,
one well-placed shot or shell will wreck my rigging, and we shall lie
like a wounded bird upon the water."
The Don looked fixedly in the skipper's face for some moments before
giving him a short nod and turning away to light his cigarette.