Standing in the drizzling rain, wrapped in thick garments, the watchers on the Porter beheld the object of their pursuit glide along in fancied security. Finally it seemed to halt.
Then came a long period of waiting. More than two hours passed, and still the vigil of the pursuers was maintained. The port-holes of the revenue-cutter were open, and the grim cannon stood ready to pour forth their missiles of destruction.
“Do you suppose that Haywood will be there to-night—that the signal will appear?” whispered Leonard.
“Be patient,” was Mr. Stark’s only reply.
Suddenly a bright light appeared in the distance, and a rocket shot into the air.
“The signal!” shouted Mr. Stark and Leonard, both in the same breath.
Orders were quickly given, and the Porter, with all steam crowded on, moved toward the light.
Soon a dim form of a vessel appeared in the gloom, and on nearing it, some noise and confusion were heard.
This was at the moment Carlos and his four captors were being taken aboard the smugglers’ ship.
Then it was that the commander of the Porter gave orders to fire.