Fitz the Filibuster Part 22

"Electric lights!" cried Fitz.

"Oh yes, they've got 'em, and tram-cars too. They are pretty wide-awake in these mushroom Spanish Republic towns."

"Then they will be advanced enough," thought Fitz, "for me to get help to make my way to rejoin my ship. Sooner or later my chance must come."

Within an hour the soft warm wind had dropped, and the captain gave his orders, to be followed by the rattling out of the chain-cable through the hawse-hole. The schooner swung round, and Fitz had to bring the gla.s.s to bear from the other side of the deck to make out the twinkling lights of the semi-Spanish town.

Everything was wonderfully still, but it was an exciting time for the lad as he leaned against the bulwarks quite alone, gazing through the soft mysterious darkness at the distant lights.

There were thoughts in his breast connected with the lowering down of one of the boats and rowing ash.o.r.e, but there was the look-out, and the captain and mate were both on deck, talking together as they walked up and down, while instead of the men going below and seeming disposed to sleep, they were lounging about, smoking and chatting together.

And then it was that the middy began to think about one of the four life-buoys lashed fore and aft, and how it would be if he cut one of them loose and lowered himself down by a rope, to trust to swimming and the help of the current to bear him ash.o.r.e.

His heart throbbed hard at the idea, and then he turned cold, for he was seaman enough to know the meaning of the tides and currents. Suppose in his ignorance instead of bearing him ash.o.r.e they swept him out to sea?

And then he shuddered at his next thought.

There were the sharks, and only that evening he and Poole had counted no less than ten--that is to say, their little triangular back-fins-- gliding through the surface of the water.

"No," he said to himself, "I shall have to wait;" and he started violently, for a voice at his elbow said--

"Did you speak?"

"Eh? No, I don't think so," replied the boy.

"You must have been talking to yourself. I say, what a lovely night!

Did you notice that signal that we ran up?"

"No," cried Fitz eagerly.

"It was while you were looking at the sunset. Father made me run up a flag. Don't you remember my asking you to let me have the gla.s.s a minute?"

"Yes, of course."

"Well--I don't mind telling you now--that was to the fort, and they answered it just in time before it was too dark to see. I think they hoisted lights afterwards, three in a particular shape, but there were so many others about that father couldn't be sure."

"Then I suppose that means going into port at daylight?"

"Yes, and land our cargo under the guns of the fort. I say, listen."

"What to?"

"That," said Poole, in a whisper.

"Oh yes, that splashing. Fish, I suppose."

"No," whispered Poole. "I believe it's oars."

He had hardly spoken when the skipper's voice was heard giving orders almost in a whisper; but they were loud enough to be heard and understood, for there was a sudden rush and padding of feet about the deck, followed by a soft rattling, and the next minute the middy was aware of the presence of a couple of the sailors armed with capstan-bars standing close at hand.

Then all was silence once more, and the darkness suddenly grew more dense, following upon a dull squeaking sound as of a pulley-wheel in a block.

"They've doused the light," whispered Poole. "It's a boat coming off from the sh.o.r.e," he continued excitedly, with his lips close to the middy's ear. "It's the people we expect, I suppose, but father is always suspicious at a time like this, for you never know who they may be. But if they mean mischief they will get it warm."

Fitz's thoughts went back at a bound to the dark night when he boarded with the cutter's crew, and his heart beat faster and faster still as, leaning outward to try and pierce the soft transparent darkness of the tropic night, he felt his arm tightly gripped by Poole with one hand, while with the other he pointed to a soft pale flashing of the water, which was accompanied by a dull regular _splash, splash_.

"Friends or enemies," whispered Poole, "but they don't see us yet. I wonder which they are."

Just then the lambent flashing of the phosph.o.r.escent water and the soft splashing ceased.

It was the reign of darkness far and near.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

ANXIOUS TIMES.

As the minutes glided by in the midst of that profound silence, a fresh kind of feverish feeling began to steal over Fitz. There in the distance, apparently beyond the dome of great stars which lit up the blackish purple heavens, was the dull glowing cloud which looked like one that the sunset had left behind; beneath that were the twinkling lights of the town, and between the schooner and that, a broad black plain of darkness, looking like a layer which extended as high as the top of the masts.

But as Fitz looked down, it was to see that the blackness below his feet was transparent and all in motion with tiny glowing specks gliding here and there as if being swept along by a powerful current.

There were moments when he could have fancied that he was gazing into a huge black mirror which reflected the vast dome of stars, but he knew by experience that these moving greenish golden specks were no orbs of light but the tiny phosph.o.r.escent medusas gliding in all directions through the transparent water, and every now and then combining to emit a pale green bluish flash of light, as some fish made the current swirl by giving a swoop with its tail.

Moment by moment in the silence all seemed to grow more and more unreal, more dream-like, till he felt ready to declare that all was fancy, that he had heard no splash of a coming boat, and that the next minute he would start into wakefulness and find that it was all imagination.

Then all at once he was listening with every nerve on the strain, wishing that he knew Spanish instead of Latin, for a low clear voice arose out of the darkness, saying, as he afterwards learned--

"Aboard the English vessel there! Where are you? I have lost my way."

The skipper answered directly in Spanish.

There was a quick interchange of words, and then the latter gave an order in English which came as a relief to Fitz and made his heart jump, suggesting as it did that the next minute there was going to be a fight.

"Get the lads all round you, Burgess, and be on the alert. It seems all right, but it may be a bit of Spanish treachery, so look out."

As he was speaking Fitz with straining eyes and ear saw that the pale golden green water was being lifted from the surface of the sea and falling back like dull golden metal in patches, with an interval of darkness between them, the bestirred water looking like so much molten ore as it splashed about.

Then there was the sc.r.a.ping of a boat-hook against the side, close to the gangway, and the dimly-seen figure of a man scrambling on board.

No enemy certainly, for Fitz made out that the newcomer grasped both the captain's hands in his, and began talking to him in a low eager excited tone, the captain's responses, given in the man's own tongue, sounding short and sharp, interspersed too with an angry e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n or two. The conversation only lasted about five minutes, and then the visitor turned back to the side, uttered an order in a low tone which caused a little stir in the boat below, and stepped down. Fitz could hear him crossing the thwarts to the stern, and the craft was pushed off. Then the golden splashes in the sea came regularly once more, to grow fainter and fainter, in the direction of the city lights; and then they were alone in the silence and darkness of the night.

It was not Fitz's fault that he heard what followed, for the skipper came close up to where he was standing with Poole, followed by the mate, who had sent the men forward as soon as the boat was gone.

"Well," said the skipper, "it's very unfortunate."

"Is it?" said the mate gruffly.

"Yes. Couldn't you hear?"