Despite the confidence of Martella, he knew his venture was not wholly free from risk, and in the face of his comradeship with the crew, it was not unlikely that they would seek to win the good will of the Dictator by delivering the deserter to him. If there were others beside the engineer and firemen on board, it would be imprudent to the last degree to entrust himself to them. He therefore spent considerable time in reconnoitering.
Moving stealthily here and there, and peering out from the shadows, he soon made out the form of a man seated on the gunwale at the front, doubtless in quest of coolness. He was smoking a cigarette and something in his appearance was so familiar that the deserter called, in a guarded voice:
“Valentin, is that you?”
The man looked sharply around and removed the cigarette from between his lips.
“Martella!” he replied in the same careful voice.
“Who else is on the boat?”
“Only Juarez and Dominguez.”
He had mentioned the names of the two firemen.
“Is it safe for me to join you in a smoke?”