Sneeringly the Admiral laughed.
“Aha! They hesitate, these English dogs! Por Dios, and well they may.”
“They will be waiting for night,” suggested his nephew, who stood at his elbow quivering with excitement.
Don Miguel looked at him, smiling. “And what shall the night avail them in this narrow passage, under the very muzzles of my guns? Be sure, Esteban, that to-night your father will be paid for.”
He raised his telescope to continue his observation of the buccaneers. He saw that the piraguas towed by each vessel were being warped alongside, and he wondered a little what this manoeuver might portend. Awhile those piraguas were hidden from view behind the hulls. Then one by one they reappeared, rowing round and away from the ships, and each boat, he observed, was crowded with armed men. Thus laden, they were headed for the shore, at a point where it was densely wooded to the water's edge. The eyes of the wondering Admiral followed them until the foliage screened them from his view.
Then he lowered his telescope and looked at his officers.
“What the devil does it mean?” he asked.
None answered him, all being as puzzled as he was himself.
After a little while, Esteban, who kept his eyes on the water, plucked at his uncle's sleeve. “There they go!” he cried, and pointed.
And there, indeed, went the piraguas on their way back to the ships. But now it was observed that they were empty, save for the men who rowed them. Their armed cargo had been left ashore.