"I'm a bit distrustful about the soundings," said Ferguson, as we steamed slowly in. "This chart is no sort of good. However, I don't think we can do much harm here."
Then holding up his hand to the chief mate, who was in charge of the anchor on the fo'c'sle-head, he signalled to him to let go. The roar of the cable through the hawse-hole followed, and a few seconds later the yacht was at anchor. When the vessel was stationary I descended the ladder from the bridge to find the President and the Señorita leaning on the port-bulwarks attentively studying the shore. Still Fernandez showed no sign of any sort of trepidation. Yet he must have realized how dangerous was his position. He had admitted that he had done Silvestre a great wrong, and he could scarcely fail to be aware that the latter, having him at his mercy, would be certain to retaliate. Yet here he was chattering as coolly with the Señorita as if he were sitting on the terrace at his palace in La Gloria. The man was the possessor of an iron nerve which nothing could shake. Moreover, as he had informed me on another occasion, he was a fatalist.
"What is arranged will certainly happen," he had then remarked to me. "If I am to be assassinated in the street, it is quite certain I shall not be drowned at sea. If I am to die in my bed, it will not be on the battlefield. Why should I worry myself if the end is ordained for me?"
When he had seen everything secure, Ferguson left the bridge and joined us.
"Are you going ashore, Mr. Trevelyan," he inquired, "or will you wait on board until they send out to us?"
"I think it would be better to wait," I replied.
"If I am not mistaken, they are launching a boat now," Fernandez remarked.
What he said was correct. Several men had descended the steep path from the plateau already mentioned, and were even then running a boat across the sands towards the water. When she was afloat, they hung about her as if not certain what to do next. A few seconds later, however, a man, dressed in white, appeared from among the trees and joined them. He entered the boat, whereupon it began to move towards us. As she approached I noticed that she was pulled by four stalwart negroes, and that the man steering her was not Silvestre as I had expected, but a younger man, and a mulatto. As soon as the boat reached the ladder, he sprang nimbly on to the grating and ran up to us.
"Señor Trevelyan!" he said, looking from one to the other of us as if to discover whom he should address.
"That is my name," I answered. "Have you a message for me?" Before he replied, he took me on one side.