The tree where the gold-hole was stood not over one hundred and fifty yards from the shore, and we were in our boat and speeding off to the yacht in five minutes’ time.
Our crew all told was but seven. Of these we took five, promising all that they should be well rewarded for their night’s work.
Biscuit-bags were brought on shore, and a rudely-fitted litter, on which two boxes could be conveyed at once, one man bending on to each of the four handles, and being relieved occasionally by myself, Reeves, and the spare hand. The bags were meant to cover the boxes.
I think the men suspected that they were carrying gold, and that they would have a share of it, for they worked like slaves.
The work was hard and tedious, however, but all the boxes save one were safely taken off before the moon had been well up above the waves and shining over the sea.
We were just getting this last box on board the boat, when to our great alarm we heard a confused hum of voices in the distance, and presently recognized that of Winkey.
“Hurry, men, hurry!” cried Reeves; “there is not a moment to lose!”
The box was hoisted in, and the boat, which had been drawn up to receive it, was quickly launched.
We were all in save Miguel, the young minister; when, headed by Winkey, who was in a state of great excitement, down rushed ten hulking roughs.
“Hold!” cried Winkey; “I command you to hold in the name of the State of Florida!”