“You do as I say. Watch me swim for it.”
“The sharks’ll get you. I wish I was big enough to put you in irons.”
“Come along aft and see me off, Mr. Duff.”
They halted at the taffrail. Cary took off his canvas shoes and stripped himself to the waist. All he had on was a pair of thin khaki trousers. At his belt was a holster. The flap covered a Colt’s revolver of the old navy pattern. It was long-barreled, with a heavy butt. The two men shook hands. Mr. Duff whispered a blessing almost tearful.
Cary footed it down a rope ladder. Mr. Duff peered over and heard a small splash. For the first time in many years he piously, genuinely invoked his Maker. He saw Cary come to the surface and swim steadily to make a wide détour and approach the schooner bows on. Very soon the swimmer vanished from view. Mr. Duff hurried forward and awoke his men with orders to be alerta, and to jump for the yawl when he said so.
Richard Cary was swimming at a leisurely pace, saving his strength, taking advantage of the favorable drift of the tide. He held the same course until he was well inshore and the schooner’s masts were in line. Then he moved directly toward her, paddling gently and almost submerged, as silent as a bit of flotsam.
Thus he floated until high above him loomed the bowsprit. He was screened from discovery. Catching hold of the anchor chain, he steadied himself and rested for several minutes. He could hear two men talking somewhere forward.
Hand over hand he hauled himself up the cable until he could grasp a bowsprit stay. Another effort and he found a foothold, crouching between the stays directly beneath the heavy timber upon which the folds of a headsail had been loosely secured.
Again he paused and listened. He had at least two men to deal with up here near the forecastle. Their conversation still flowed in drowsy murmurings. They were not far from the forward machine gun, he surmised. He knew how to operate machine guns. During the war he had been a chief petty officer of the American Navy.
He took it for granted that the two machine guns were loaded and ready for instant action. Don Miguel O’Donnell was not a man to be careless in matters of this sort. To get his hands on one of them, long enough to sweep the schooner’s deck with it, this was the hazard upon which Richard Cary was gambling his life.