Once the handsome sailor approached them respectfully, hat in hand, and, halting before them, spoke rapidly in a low voice. The lads shook their heads to show that they did not understand, and, with a look of helpless resignation on his face, the fellow returned to his work.
"I wish we could understand what he says," Charley said, wistfully. "He, evidently, has something important he wishes to tell us."
"We will be able to make out what he says before long," Walter said, cheerfully. "We are learning lots of new words every day."
"Yes, we are getting along pretty well," his chum agreed, "but we are not picking up the language near as well as Chris. It's really wonderful how fast he is learning."
The little negro and the Greek boy had become great friends and Chris, naturally quick witted, was learning with astonishing rapidity to talk to his new chum.
"It's the best day we've had yet," Charley declared as they returned to the schooner in the evening. "We have got as many sponges this afternoon as we have during any entire day."
Captain Westfield was elated over their success. "It's turned out all right after all," he said. "We've stumbled upon a mighty rich part of the banks, an' I reckon, we ain't lost the fleet either, as we feared, thar's some twenty sails coming up from the South'ard."
The vessels, which the boys had not noticed before, were approaching rapidly, coming before the stiff breeze. Before dark settled down, they were plainly visible but the eager watchers could not recognize any of them, they seemed larger schooners than any they had seen in the fleet. The strangers anchored for the night near the "Beauty" and the captain got out his night glass and studied them carefully.
"They ain't any of the fleet," he declared with keen disappointment. "They're Spanish smacks from Cuba. They fish around this coast regularly every season."