They both considered for several minutes, and at length came to the conclusion that there was not. Whereupon, breakfast having been by this time dispatched, Jack rose and took his leave, laden down with kind and encouraging messages for the Montijos, to be delivered when the rescue of the family should have been accomplished.
From Don Ramon’s house Jack made his way to the British Consulate, where he bade farewell to the Consul, explaining to that gentleman that he was tired of shore life, and intended to go to sea for a change; and that, further, he did not in the least know whether he should return, or whether he should decide to go home.
“If you will take my advice, young gentleman,” said the Consul, “you will go home—and stay there; or, at least, you will stay away from Cuba until all these troubles are over.”
Jack promised that he would give that advice his most careful consideration; after which he bade his fellow-countryman adieu, and made his way aboard the yacht, where Milsom was found busily arranging to take the Thetis alongside a coal hulk as soon as the water lighter had cast off. The remainder of that day was a busy time for both men, for Milsom still had his clearance to effect, and all the stores to receive; while Jack spent the afternoon at the railway station awaiting the arrival of the baggage, the due dispatch of which Calderon had notified to him by telegraph. It arrived late in the afternoon, and was taken straight aboard the yacht, where it was placed at haphazard in the cabins lately occupied by the various members of the Montijo family. Then, when at length the bustle of preparation was ended, and the yacht was in condition to leave at a moment’s notice, Jack and Milsom adjourned to the chart-house to discuss those matters which were to ensue upon the departure of the Thetis from Havana harbour.
“Now,” said Singleton, as he took from a drawer in the chart case a large-scale chart of Cuba, and laid it on top of the case, “how long do you suppose it will take you to effect the transmogrification of this ship by means of that disguise of yours?”
“Well,” answered Milsom, “seeing that I have never yet rigged the arrangement, I am not prepared to say, to half an hour or so, just how long it will take. I reckon that, under favourable conditions, it ought to be done in about four hours; but, to make all certain, suppose we call it twelve hours. That ought to suffice and at the same time leave a sufficient margin for any small alterations that may be necessary. You seem just a little bit inclined to sneer at my ‘wonderful’ disguise, Master Jack; but you had better wait until you have seen it before you do that. I venture to remind you that I am a Navy man, and, as such, I know a thing or two about disguising ships: I’ve had a little experience in that direction during the carrying out of manoeuvres; and I am prepared to make a bet that if you—not knowing anything about the arrangement, mind you—were to pass this vessel, in her disguised condition, within half a mile, you would never recognise her.”
“All right, Phil, old chap, don’t get your back up! I’ll take your word for it that the thing is all right,” said Jack. “And if I seemed to speak disparagingly of your contrivance, forgive me, old man, will you? I’ve had a good deal to worry me lately, and I’m afraid that both my nerves and my temper are a bit on edge; but I daresay I shall feel better when we get to sea again and can start to circumvent the Spanish Government, or at least that part of it which is responsible for the misrule and shameful injustice which are rampant in Cuba. Now, I think I understood you to say that you require quiet water to enable you to rig this disguising arrangement, so I propose to go to sea to-morrow—which will be Thursday—and run down the coast to the eastward in search of a secluded spot in which we can effect our transformation without being interfered with or overlooked by anybody. Now, let us have a look at the chart.”
“There ought not to be very much difficulty in finding a suitable spot,” remarked Milsom, as the pair bent over the sheet. “Ah,” he continued, laying his finger upon the paper, “here we are! This should be a perfectly ideal place; just sufficient water, a lee to shelter under, and very little likelihood of being disturbed at our work. We can go in here through the Boca de Sagua la Grande, haul up to the south-east, and come to anchor in this little bight in two and a quarter fathoms of water. And when our preparations are complete we can go out to sea again by way of the Boca de Maravillas, thus avoiding the observation of the people who tend the light on Hicacal Cay, who will be sure to notice us as we go in. By the way, I picked up a rather useful little item of information while I was ashore this afternoon. I fell in with the harbour-master, who seems quite a decent sort of chap, as Spaniards go; he and I have gradually grown to be rather chummy since we have been in harbour here, and upon the strength of the fact that I was clearing for sea I took him into that place on the quay yonder and cracked a farewell bottle of wine with him. As we emptied the bottle we yarned together upon various topics; and by and by he made some casual mention of the Marañon, to which I replied by saying that she had the appearance of being rather a fast vessel, and that I thought it a pity that her skipper did not take a little more pride in her appearance and smarten her up a bit by giving her a lick of paint occasionally. He shrugged his shoulders and asked: What would I? The ship was a convict ship, and her appearance was a matter of no consequence. As to her speed, she could steam twelve knots, but her most economical speed was eight, and he opined that eight knots would therefore be her pace on the trip to Fernando Po, for which reason he rather pitied the unfortunate convicts who were doomed to travel in her, for she had the reputation of being a most uneasy ship in a seaway. I also ascertained from him that she is timed to sail at two o’clock on Sunday afternoon, which should bring her off our hiding-place about—let me see—yes, about seven o’clock on Monday morning. Now, if her skipper should chance to keep the coast pretty close aboard, as he possibly may, we ought to catch a glimpse of her from our masthead as she goes past: but if, on the other hand, he should push her off into mid-channel, to get the full benefit of the current, I think our best plan will be to allow her, say, four hours for delay in starting, and then follow until we sight her, when our further actions can be governed by circumstances. So I have instructed Perkins to pass the word round among the deck hands for everybody to take a good look at her, so that they may know her again when they see her.”
“Good!” exclaimed Jack. “That is excellent; the news is well worth a bottle of wine. You don’t think, I suppose, that your friend had any suspicion of our intention, and deliberately told you all that for the purpose of misleading you?”
“Not he,” answered Milsom confidently; “he is too simple a chap to conceive any such suspicion as that. Besides, why should he? We have done nothing to lead even the most suspicious Spaniard to connect our departure with that of El Marañon. Oh, no! what he told me slipped out in the most casual way in the ordinary course of conversation, and you may be sure that I was particularly careful not to question him, or to say anything which might lead him to suppose that I took the least interest in the movements of the ship.”