Strange, whose eyesight was remarkable, answered:
"Yes, a lighter loaded with barrels."
"Some carbonate of soda," said Slingsby, with a grin. They went into the cockpit, leaving the door open.
It was a hot night, and in a café beyond the trees a band was playing the compelling music of Louise. Strange listened to it, deeply stirred. Life had so changed for him that he had risen from the depths during the last weeks. Then Slingsby raised his hand.
"Listen!"
With the distant music there mingled now the creaking of a winch. Strange extinguished the light, and both men crept out from the cockpit. The sound came from the Santa Maria del Pilar, and they could see the spar of her hoisting tackle swing out over the lighter and inboard over the ship's deck.
"She's loading," said Strange, in a low voice.
"Yes," answered Slingsby; "she's loading." And his voice purred like a contented cat.
He slept on a bed made up in the saloon that night. Strange in his tiny cabin, and at nine o'clock the next morning, as they sat at breakfast, they saw the Santa Maria del Pilar make for the sea.
"We ought to follow, oughtn't we?" said Strange anxiously.