"Very good. Now, I'll take a couple of men with us to do the rowing. They shall remain in the boat while we go aboard. You can act like my boatswain, if you choose. I know the men to select, smart fellows who will understand what we're up to, and I'll guarantee they'll not give the game away. Wait a minute."
The preliminaries were quickly adjusted.
A boat being lowered they dropped in.
The two men knew who their stranger sailor companion was, the captain having given them a few pointers, deeming it the part of wisdom that they should not be kept in ignorance, and as Roderic had quickly made firm friends of all the yacht's crew, by his cheery and hearty ways, they were genuinely interested in the successful outcome of his venture.
Poor the sailor who has not sweetheart or wife in port—indeed, they have been often accused, doubtless falsely, of a predilection for having a girl in every port.
The silvery crescent moon just hung trembling above the horizon, preparatory to taking the plunge that would hide her from view until another night rolled around.
Roderic was duly impressed with the witchery of his surroundings, nor did the romantic nature of his own errand fail to stamp itself upon his mind.
Thus they quitted the side of the yacht and headed directly for the steamer whose vague outlines could just be dimly seen through the haze and darkness.
Hardly had they proceeded five boatlengths than Captain Beven who sat beside him in the stern-sheets, turning his head to take a last loving glance at his own little craft, uttered an exclamation.
This of course caused Roderic to follow suit.