Wilson knew, as well as Chase, that the latter had not overestimated the dangers of their situation. Cuba was in a state of insurrection, having declared her independence of Spain. Several battles had been fought between the rebels and the Spanish troops, and deeds of violence were daily enacted in every part of the island. Wilson knew all this before the voyage for Cuba was commenced, but he had never dreamed that he and the rest of the crew of the yacht could in any way become mixed up in the troubles. He had set out simply with the intention of assisting to rescue Fred Craven from the power of the smugglers, and here he was suspected of being a smuggler himself, and of having in his possession cases of arms to be delivered to the agents of the Cuban government. Don Casper, to whose house he had been brought in so strange a manner, thought that such was his occupation and character, for he had said so; and he had also hinted that the Spanish troopers suspected them, and that it would be dangerous to fall into their hands. This was certainly an unlooked for termination to the expedition upon which he and the members of the Sportsman’s Club had entered with so much eagerness, and it was enough to awaken in his mind the most serious misgivings. But he was a courageous fellow, and knowing that much depended upon keeping up the spirits of his desponding friend, he affected an indifference that he was very far from feeling. He slept because he was utterly exhausted by the labor and excitement he had undergone during the last few days.
Chase was equally wearied by his nights of watching and exposure, but his fears effectually banished sleep from his eyes. For three long hours, as we have said, he sat motionless on the dry-goods box, listening intently and wondering how his captivity was to end, and at the expiration of that time, he was frightened almost out of his senses by hearing a stealthy footfall outside the door of the wine-cellar, and the noise of a key grating in the lock. Utterly unable to speak, he sprang to his feet, and seizing his slumbering companion by the shoulders, shook him roughly.
“Ay! ay!” replied Wilson, drowsily. “I will be on deck in five minutes. Is Cuba in sight yet?”
“You are not on board the yacht,” whispered Chase, recovering the use of his tongue by an effort, “but in the cellar of that old Creole’s house; and here come the Spaniards to arrest us.”
These words aroused Wilson, who rubbed his eyes and sat up on the dry-goods box just as the door opened, admitting a muffled figure in slouch hat and cloak, who carried a lighted lantern in his hand. Chase looked over the man’s shoulder into the cellar beyond, expecting to see the troopers of whom he stood so much in fear; but their visitor was alone, and, if any faith was to be put in his actions, he had come there with anything but hostile intentions. He held his lantern aloft, and after gazing at the boys a moment, nodded his head and motioned to them to follow him. Wilson promptly obeyed, but Chase hung back.
“I am not sure that it will be safe,” said he, doubtfully. “Perhaps we had better ask him to tell who sent him here, and what he intends to do with us.”
“Let’s follow him now and listen to his explanation afterward,” replied Wilson. “I don’t care much what he does with us, so long as he leads us into the open air. Anything is better than being shut up in this dark prison.”
Chase was not fully satisfied on that point, but he was not allowed even a second to consider it. Wilson and their visitor moved off, and finding that he was about to be left alone in the dark, Chase stepped quickly out of the wine-cellar and followed them. The man led the way to the stairs, which he ascended with noiseless footsteps, stopping now and then to listen, his every movement being imitated by the anxious captives. They reached the hall, and moved on tiptoe toward the door, which opened upon the back verandah; but just before they reached it their guide paused, and after giving each of the boys a warning gesture, raised his hand and stood pointing silently before him. The young sailors looked, and their hearts seemed to stop beating when they discovered, stretched out directly in front of the door, the burly form of one of the Spanish troopers. He slumbered heavily upon his blanket, one arm thrown over his head, and the other resting upon his carbine which lay across his breast. What was to be done now? was the question each of the boys asked himself, and which was quickly answered by their guide, who, with another warning gesture, moved forward, and stepping nimbly over the prostrated sentinel, beckoned to them to follow. Wilson at once responded and reached the verandah without arousing the sleeper; but it seemed as if Chase could not muster up courage enough to make the attempt.
“I can’t do it,” he whispered, in reply to Wilson’s gestures of impatience. “Tell that man to come back and lead me out of the house by some other door.”