From the vessel came a gruff hail.
“I’ve got you covered!” it cried. “Two of you put your hands up, and one pull your boat up alongside till we have a look!”
“Out of the frying pan—” breathed Cliff! He and Tom elevated their hands and Nicky, with reluctant strokes, drew close to the bow. Tom discerned a name in glimmering gold against white paint.
“Fellows,” he whimpered, “it’s that boat we saw in Jamaica!”
It was—El Libertad!
CHAPTER XVIII
A SURPRISE!
“That’s a nice way to welcome mariners!” exclaimed Cliff as they came alongside; the colored man on deck merely grunted.
“Pass your line!” he said.
When they clambered onto the small aft deck they saw that their new captor was a large, heavy, but lithe-looking negro.
“I wanted you to go away, before,” he said, more pleasantly. “When I saw you this time I wouldn’t take chances on letting you go!”