“Yes, Mark, and that we will soon be together again,” he replied. “I hope your journey proves a safe one; and when you get back you must remember me to all of the other boys.”
“I’ll do it; and you must remember me to your mother and your two sisters,” I said.
With it all, however, the day passed somewhat slowly, for we were impatient to see what the night would bring forth. The sun set clearly, and soon the heavens were bespangled with countless stars.
Mr. Raymond shook his head. “Captain Brownley won’t risk coming to-night,” he remarked. “They could easily spot a boat from the town shore, it is so clear.”
But about ten o’clock it began to cloud over, and at eleven it started to rain, a gentle but steady downpour. Not a star remained, and out on the water it was as dark as Erebus.
“A kind Providence is with us!” cried my father. “We could not possibly imagine a better night.”
Slowly the time wore on, until Captain Guerez' watch indicated ten minutes to one. We sat close beside the rock, paying no attention to the rain, although it was gradually soaking us to the skin.
“Here they come!” whispered my father, and a few seconds later a rowboat containing four sailors loomed up through the darkness. As silently as a shadow the boat glided up past the rock and into the swamp grass.
“On time, I see,” said Mr. Raymond, as he advanced. “Is Captain Brownley here?”