"We're alongside," exclaimed Broadmayne. "Listen!"
Placing their ears to the hull plating, they could hear the sound of an engine shunting trucks, then—to their unbounded satisfaction—a voice shouting:
"All fast! Look alive with that brow, lads!"
"Time we shifted," declared Broadmayne, kicking out to work the muscles of his cramped legs. "We've got to slip ashore quietly and without any of the crew spotting us."
Mounting a few rungs of the ladder, the Sub with a powerful thrust threw back the hatchcover. There was no one in the alleyway. A cloud of steam issuing through the engine-room fidley cut off the view of the deck; but it was sunlight, not artificial light, that played upon the oil-reeking vapour.
Keeping together, the trio made their way for'ard. Just abaft the mainmast they could see the inboard end of a brow inclined at a steep angle. Close to it stood two of the Spanish officers and a couple of civilians. Several of the crew were at the guard-rails looking down at the crowd of sightseers on the quay-side.
"Now!" whispered Broadmayne.
The three made a mad rush for the gangway. One of the Spanish officers started when he saw two weirdly-garbed men followed by a third in strange rig making for the brow. Too astonished to attempt to bar their way, he could only shout and gesticulate to the Spanish seamen standing by.
One of the latter did endeavour to stop the fugitives. Broadmayne charged him, sending him crashing against a second Spaniard. In a trice the three Englishmen were running down the steeply-inclined brow.
"Hi—there!" shouted one of the two civilians who were conferring with the Spanish captain. "Stop those men!"