“I told you to wave it, Jupe.”
“Y-y-y-y-yes, sah; but am you shuh dat wha’eber dat contraption am asho’ ain’t a gwine ter shoot jes’ as soon as ah wabe?”
“So you wouldn’t mind me being shot, eh?” said Mr. Chadwick, smiling despite his very real anxiety. “All right, Jupe, give it to me.”
The lantern was waved twice. The signal was answered from shore.
“What now?” whispered Jack.
Somehow the impulse to speak in whispers was almost irresistible. What with the darkness of the night and the mystery of their errand, it seemed that danger was lurking everywhere.
“We’ll wait here,” rejoined Mr. Chadwick; “the mine is at the top of that cliff, a little bit back from the edge. It is an old one worked long ago by the Spaniards, and is as full of galleries and passages as a rabbit warren. If those rascally rebels once got into it, it would make a fine hiding place for them.”
“Is Mr. Jameson going to row out?” asked Jack, knowing that this was the only way by which the superintendent could reach them.
“Yes; we keep a boat further down the coast. See, he must have got out of the mine in some way and reached the boat and then rowed to this spot. He is a daring fellow.”
“Here he comes now,” whispered Tom, pointing to a red light which began to move over the water toward them.