When Cain came on deck all preparations were complete, except for breaking out the anchor. The Alerte was riding to the flood tide. The mud flats on either side of the estuary were covered. The air was hot, sultry and still. Outside, the surf thundered heavily on the bar.
At five knots the Alerte headed seawards, scraping past the submerged wreckage of the Villamil to starboard and the island to port, where the now-abandoned signal-station alone remained as a visible reminder of the pirate submarine's brief and financially disappointing sojourn in the estuary of the Wad-el-Abuam.
Just before two bells in the afternoon watch, smoke was observed on the southern horizon. Twenty minutes later the dark grey hull of a fairly big steamer emerged from the patches of haze.
"She's the Candide right enough," declared Cain. "Clear away the gun, my lads. One more hooker and our job's done.... No colours yet, Mr. Barnard. We'll let 'em have a good sight of the Jolly Roger in a brace of shakes. Pick your boarding-party, Mr. Pengelly. See that everything's ready in the boat."
The two vessels were approaching on their respective courses which, if adhered to, would enable the stranger to pass a good half-mile on the Alerte's port side. The pirate submarine held on in order to avoid arousing suspicion on the part of the stranger.
Suddenly Pengelly, who had been keeping the approaching craft under observation through a pair of powerful binoculars, turned to his superior.
"She's a Yankee, by Jove!" he exclaimed. "She's flying the Stars and Stripes."
"Ay," agreed Cain, with a grin. "And there's the name Bronx City on her bows as large as life. Yankee colours and Yankee name don't turn a Belgian tramp into a United States hooker. I'm too old a bird to be caught with chaff.... Starboard a bit, Quartermaster... at that!"
The eyes of the signalman, the gun's crew and the seamen standing aft with the rolled-up skull and cross-bones already toggled to the halyards, were all fixed expectantly upon the skipper of the pirate submarine as he stood at the extreme end of the port side of the bridge.
Captain Cain raised his right hand. At the signal the black flag was broken out, the International ID hoisted at the fore, while an instant later a shot whizzed across the stranger's bows.