"I can't make her out yet," he said, as he lowered his glasses, "but whoever she is she must know the coast hereabouts pretty well to head in so close."
He sat down with his back to one of the trees and his face to the sea and rolled a cigarette. He smoked calmly for ten minutes and then put his glasses to his eyes again.
"She's a gunboat," he said finally. "Let me know in fifteen minutes if she still holds her course."
He turned back to his boat and was rowed rapidly back to the Mariella. Suarez met him at the gangway.
"Did you make her out, sir?" he asked eagerly.
"Yes, she's a gunboat—I think our old friend the Belair, and if it be she there is no significance in her presence here. She has probably been cruising up and down the coast since we left her trying to solve the mystery of our sudden disappearance. But in any event you better prepare for the worst; but quietly, Suarez, quietly. We do not want to alarm the ladies unnecessarily."
"Bother the ladies," grumbled Suarez to himself, as he went forward to carry out the captain's orders. O'Connor leaned on the rail facing the black point of land that hid them from view. Presently a boat put out from the shore and as she came under the Mariella's quarter, O'Connor whispered:
"Well?"
"Only the red light shows now, sir," answered a man in the small boat.
"She has changed her course, then. Good. Keep a sharp lookout and let me know at once if she changes again."