“What have you here?” Phil asked flourishing his revolver menacingly, “and where were you taking them?”
“They contain machinery, señor, for Señor La Fitte’s plantation at Mariel,” replied the native coxswain, gaining confidence, seeing his life was not in such imminent danger.
Had they made a terrible mistake? Did these boxes contain machinery only and no arms? But why should they be sent addressed to the United States Minister? Then the remembrance of the hot fire, through which they had just passed, dissipated all doubt. They were surely contraband arms, but being on board a launch which sailed under the flag of the republic, the two lads were openly aiding the government of the republic.
“What shall I do?” Phil asked himself. “I wish Captain Taylor were here; this situation is too deep for me to solve.”
Then he thought with anxiety of the wounded man, an evidence of their expedition which could not be concealed.
He was glad when Sydney, who had been attending the sailor, stood beside him on the captured launch. He tersely explained to him his discovery.
“We must not set them free,” Sydney exclaimed immediately. “We have gone too far for that. You are confident that these same boxes ten hours ago were marked for our minister, and when we captured them they were nearly in the hands of the insurgents. There isn’t a doubt but that the boxes contain arms.”
Picking up a hatchet lying on the deck of the launch, Phil with a few swift strokes bared the contents of the nearest box.
Both lads peered in anxiously.
“Colt automatic guns,” cried Phil, triumphantly. “Why, this shipment is worth more to the insurgents than ten thousand rifles. The side which has these guns will win the fight. There must be several batteries of them packed in these cases.”