Dinner was over and Jude had run up on deck. Suddenly her voice came down through the open skylight.
“Below there! Cleary’s coming!”
Satan jumped from his place like a man shot. Next moment he was on deck. Jude pointed and handed him the binoculars she had been using.
“That’s them!” said Satan, after a long look. “Cuss the swabs!”
He handed the glasses to Ratcliffe.
Away to the north two sails cut the sea-line. With the aid of the glasses two vessels leaped into view,—a topsail schooner and a smaller vessel of fore-and-aft rig. Even with the glasses he could not have been sure that these were the Natchez and the Juan like a pair of evil dogs hunting in company; but Satan was sure, so was Jude.
“They’re coming dead for the cay,” said Jude. Satan said nothing.
He had been filling his pipe when the hail came, he lit it now, walked to the starboard rail to be alone, and stood with his eyes fixed on the Haliotis.
The position was as bad as could be. First of all, these ruffians would be sure to make him bail up even more than he had had out of them; secondly, they would have the laugh at him and post him as a mug all over Havana; thirdly, they would give him away about the Haliotis, if they discovered how he had plundered her.
Having smoked for a moment in silence, he turned to his companions.