"Merrimac, ahoy!" someone hailed. "Admiral's orders that you put about at once and drop anchor over the old moorings. The dawn will break within an hour."
The torpedo boat at once sheered off, and as he watched from his porthole, Hal saw her swing round with a rush that sent her swaying and dipping into the oily sea.
"Off till to-morrow," he murmured. "Very well, it is disappointing; but I must make the best of it, and as I am here in a comfortable cabin, why, I shall stay here. I have grub with me, and there are blankets on the bunk. I'll just see what can be done with the door."
He fumbled at the handle, and discovered a key and a latch, which he fastened. Then he lay down on the settee, and covered himself with a rug. A few moments later he was asleep, worn out by the excitement of anticipation, and by the long vigil which he had kept.
When he awoke, the sun was going down, and another day was almost gone.
"Now for it!" he exclaimed. "I'll just indulge in a meal, and will then prepare for a swim."
He undid the parcel, ate heartily of biscuit and meat, and, after carefully reconnoitering, popped into the saloon, and obtained a drink from a small filter. Then he locked himself in the cabin again, and packed up the remains of the food. A few hours later the moorings were quietly dropped, and in trying silence the Merrimac steamed away for Santiago upon as adventurous an expedition as was ever contemplated.