“What about choice of place for landing?” asked the mate.
“Oh, we will go up as close as we can get. Ramon is sure to have a strong party there to help, and in a very short time he would be able to knock up an earthwork and utilise the guns as we get them ashore. That would keep the gunboat off if she comes round.”
“Yes,” said the mate quietly, and he handed over the wheel to one of the men, the sea being quite open now between them and the shore a few miles away.
“Well,” said the skipper, “what do you make of it?” For the mate was shading his eyes and looking carefully round eastward.
“Have a look yourself,” was the gruff reply.
The skipper raised the glass he had lowered to his side, and swept the horizon eastward; knowing full well the keenness of his subordinate’s eyes, he fully expected to see some suspicious vessel in sight, but that had not taken the mate’s attention, for as soon as the glass had described about the eighth of a circle the skipper lowered it again and gave an angry stamp with his foot.
“Was ever such luck!” he cried.
“No,” replied the mate; “it is bad. But there is only one thing to be done.”
“Yes, only one thing. We must get out while we can, and I don’t know but what we may be too late even now.”
For the next few minutes all was busy on board the schooner. It was ’bout ship, and fresh sail was set, their course being due east, while as soon as Fitz could get Poole to answer a question, what had so far been to him a mystery was explained.