The word came from Mr. Chadwick as, two days after the events narrated in our last chapter, the dim outline of a rugged coast came into view from the deck of the White Shark. The submarine had arrived on time at Nacassa, and the boys, having witnessed the arrival of the supply steamer with Fennel on board, had rowed out to the diving boat.
But after all their adventures in her, they had hated to part with the little boat in which they had weathered such a terrific sea, and so, in response to their earnest solicitations, the craft was hoisted on board and lashed securely to the deck ring bolts.
“Remember, if it is swept away when we dive, don’t blame me,” said Mr. Dancer, and the boys promised that they wouldn’t. Privately, though, they thought it was secure against anything.
“How long before we come in sight of your mine?” asked Jack.
“Oh, Sonora is quite a way down the coast. I don’t expect to sight it before this evening. By the way, I cabled Jameson before we left that if all was well he was to hoist a white light. If not, two red ones.”
“You don’t anticipate any real trouble, do you?” asked Mr. Dancer, who was taking an airing on deck while Silas did a “trick” at the wheel.
“I don’t know. These rebels are inflamed against Americans. They think that the Cuban government grants them favors. Then, too, some them have an idea that by destroying American property they can force the intervention of the United States.”
“So that is the case. In that event I suppose things might prove to be serious. Is the Cuban army a strong one?”
“It consists mostly of rurales, a sort of rough-and-ready cavalry. But they have a few troops of infantry.”
By lunch time, the bold and rugged outline of Cape Maysoi, the eastern extremity of Cuba, was visible. The coast here rises in barren, rocky terraces, and Jack was able to tell the others that these odd geological formations were caused by the gradual receding of the sea as ages passed by.