Thus our position and its perils were somewhat complicated.
Suddenly the distant report of a piece of ordnance, coming from the seaward, made us all look up and listen.
"El ruido que hace el canon!" (the crack of a gun), exclaimed a Spaniard, scrambling up to the lower end of the fissure in the arch of the grotto, and looking out.
"We all know that well enough; but what does it mean?" asked the other.
"The English brig at the anchorage has fired it. I see a light glittering on her deck; and now away it goes up to the foremast head."
"It is the Eugenie, Master Rodney," whispered Tom.
"Can the captain be about to sail to-night,—and without us?" said I, with growing dismay.
"No; but he is impatient for us to come off. He knows well what a 'tarnal slippery set of imps these Jack Spaniards are, and has shown a light, and fired a gun as a hint for us to look sharp."
"Companero," said one of the Spaniards to the other who was looking out, "are you sure that it is the English brig, and not ours?"
"Yes; but by St. Paul! there is a light burning now on the Castello de Santa Cruz; so our craft had better get her sweeps out, and put to sea, even without us. Can the Senor Gobernador have smelt a rat?"