Cardyke had not been idle. All the ports were screened with the exception of one in which he set a lamp. Then using a heavy cabin curtain as a screen, he proceeded to "call-up" the approaching vessel.
"There's the acknowledgment," exclaimed Fielding, as a succession of short, rapid flashes came from the Morse signalling-lamp on the steamer's bridge.
"Stand off; you are——" began the middy, using his improvised shutter as quickly as he was able; but before he had flashed half-a-dozen words a heavy tarpaulin was dropped over the port from above, completely obscuring the light from seaward.
"Where's your knife?" asked the mid. "Lash it to the end of a pole or something and jab a hole through the canvas."
Before the obstructing tarpaulin could be cut through, the Independencia's course was altered till she pointed bows on to the oncoming yacht. Thus the ports on her quarters no longer commanded a view of the strange vessel.
"They've done us," muttered Fielding.
"Perhaps the captain of the vessel will smell a rat, and sheer off," remarked Cardyke.
"I don't know about that. He may think we are only asking him to keep off till daylight, or something of that sort. He would never ignore signals of distress."
"Couldn't we make an attempt to rush the ship and drive those rascals below?"
"I'm afraid not. They've secured the hatches. But we'll get all hands to man the ports and fire their revolvers. That might make the skipper of that packet keep out of danger."