"Bale!" said Wyndham, sharply. "She'll capsize if she ships another before you get this lot out."
Marston did his best, while the lantern and compass washed against the bucket. There was no use in stopping to pick them up, since he could not get a light and Harry was now steering by the wind. He must keep her as near it as she would point until they crossed the bay and found the land again. Marston hoped this would be soon. For some time he did not look up and afterwards wondered how Wyndham kept her afloat, but at length the plunges got easier and the water did not come on board so fast. By degrees, he got it under, and stopping to stretch his cramped limbs, looked to windward. The sea was smoother and the breeze not so fresh. There was a vague dark line not far off and he knew they were approaching the beach.
"We'll be round the point in a few minutes," said Wyndham. "Bale her dry, and then look out for the red light at San Cristobal."
Soon after he stopped baling, Marston saw a red twinkle. The gig was sailing very fast, swaying down and recovering buoyantly as the gusts came and went. The lug-yard bent in a strained curve and showers of spray blew into the sail. Marston, stooping behind the gunwale, managed to strike a match and told Wyndham the time when he had looked at his watch.
"We have made a good run, but she'll beat it going back, when we'll have the wind a point or two aft," he added. "This ought to give us an hour, or perhaps an hour-and-a-half, at the port."
"It will be enough. Unluckily, the tide is ebbing yet, and although there's not much rise and fall, I don't know if we can both leave the boat. It would be awkward if she grounded and we couldn't shove her off."
Marston nodded. The gig was heavy and he doubted if they could launch her down a beach. It would be risky to tie her to landing steps, because the port-guards watched the harbors at night. Vessels were not allowed to enter after dark. Yet he did not want to be separated from Harry.
In the meantime, they were fast coming up with the light, and when a high, dark wall ran out in front Wyndham luffed the boat and they lowered sail and took down the mast. Marston sculled her past the wall, and the narrow harbor opened up. A few anchor lights swung languidly inside, and the indistinct, dark shape of a steamer shut out part of the wall. When they got near her Marston stopped sculling.
"The repairing slip is up at the top by the foundry," he said. "I expect the brigantine to starboard has a rope out. If we try to get across, we might make a splash. If we go the other side, we'll pass close under the steamer's rail. She's a pretty big boat; they'll have aSerenoon board, and keep harbor watch. If somebody hailed us, it might bring the port-guard."
Wyndham nodded and for a few moments they looked about. The harbor was long and narrow. For the most part, the town at its end was dark, but two or three big electric lamps threw a silver gleam across indistinct masses of foliage. Marston thought these were trees on themarinaat the water's edge. If so, the faint light lower down came from the office ofthe port-captain. Turning to the wall abreast of the gig, he imagined he saw some steps.
"Perhaps you had better land me and wait while I try to find the tug," he said. "I ought to get back in an hour."
"The awkward part is going along the mole," Wyndham replied. "You'll have to pass two or three vessels and somebody may speak to you. This must be risked one way, but instead of coming back, it might be prudent to cross the land end of the mole and join me on the beach in front of themarina. There's not much surf to bother us, but it will make some noise and if anybody is about you won't be heard."
Marston agreed, and sculling to the steps, jumped out. He pushed off the gig, and Wyndham picked up the oar. In another few moments the boat vanished in the dark.
When he had climbed the steps Marston stopped. Now he had started on his adventure he saw its difficulties. To begin with, he must pass two or three vessels, and the lights that burned on the steamer touched the mole. She came from Cadiz and Spanish passenger boats carried aSereno, whose particular duty was to keep watch at night. Marston was afraid the man might hail him. Although he had laboriously studied Castilian, he did not speak it well, and his accent would indicate that he was a foreigner. If theSerenowere curious and kept him talking, the port-guard might come up. Anyhow, there was some risk of his meeting the latter and he would then be asked to account for his wandering about in the dark. It was obvious that he could not do so satisfactorily, and there was a telephone to the Government office at the Capital.
Marston doubted if Larrinaga could imprison him for spying, but it did not matter much. If he were found at San Cristobal, Don Ramon would know his object and would not let him go until he had sent off his soldiers to put down the Bat. If the latter were not warned, he would probably be surprised and captured. This was unthinkable, and Marston saw he must not be caught, although to run away from the port-guard might lead to his getting shot. The fellows carried pistols, which they were empowered to use. Caution was plainly needed, and he crept past the steamer, keeping close to the high parapet of the mole.
Nobody hailed him, and he went on until he came opposite a small marque. She had no lights, but as he stole by his foot struck a mooring rope and he fell. He lay flat on the ground for some moments, and then, hearing no movement on board, got up and crept away, looking out for the next rope. The mole was long and he had not gone far when he heard the splash of oars. A boat came out of the dark, and a break in the wall indicated a row of steps. Marston did not want to turn back, and it was possible the men were going to one of the vessels. If they were going to the town, he had better get past the steps before they landed. A pile of goods forced him to leave the gloom of the parapet and it looked as if his figure cut against the sky, for the splash of oars stopped.
"Ola compañero!" somebody shouted.
Marston saw he must trust his luck and asked gruffly: "Que quiere?"
The man said they were coming to let go a schooner's rope but he might throw it down, and Marston dragged the heavy warp to the edge.
"Coje-le," he said in a hoarse voice and threw down the rope.
He imagined it fell upon the others' heads, for somebody said, "Mal rayo! Esta borracho."
Then the boat pulled away and Marston went on. If the fellows thought him drunk, so much the better. This would account for his brevity and uncouth accent. He wondered whether the shouting had excitedthe port-guards' curiosity, but although he stopped to listen he heard nothing.
By-and-by he got near the end of the mole and distinguished the repairing ship, which ran down obliquely to the water. The trees on themarinarose behind it, touched in places by the glow from two big electric lamps, and a blurred, dark mass cut against the illumination. This was, no doubt, the tug and he wondered, rather anxiously, whether the crew were on board. Stopping where the gloom was deepest, he looked carefully about.
The tug's bow rose high above him, but he doubted if the tide had left her stern. So far as he could feel with his feet, the stones were covered by broken shells, and he smelt paint. In the tropics, the bottom of an iron vessel soon gets crusted with shells and weed, and it looked as if the crew had scraped the boat. When the plates were clean they would paint her with red-oxide before applying the anti-fouling coat. It was important for him to find out which they had put on, because, since they could only work at low-water, this might mean a difference of a day or two in the time needed to finish the job. All the same, he could not take it for granted that she would be ready for sea when the last coat was dry. He understood her engines were being overhauled, and must ascertain if the work were done.
Marston moved lower down the inclined slip. The tug was a big propeller boat and rested, upright, on heavy shores. When he was level with the engine-room he saw a ladder against her side and his foot struck something that tinkled. Stooping down, he felt about and found a number of short tubes, some ofwhich had torn ends. They had obviously come from the condenser, and re-tubing a condenser might be a long job. It looked as if he would have to get on board, but, to begin with, he had better see how far the men had gone with the painting.
He rubbed his hand along the plates. Although they were pretty smooth, this did not tell him much and he got no plainer hint when he used his nose. There was a strong smell of paint, but he could not tell if it was the priming coat, or the anti-fouling that would finish the work. Perhaps he could find the drum that had held the paint and he began to feel about as he moved down the slip. He had not gone far, however, when he trod on a piece of iron that tilted up and dropped with a sharp rattle. To continue the search might be dangerous and he stopped and listened.
All was quiet on board the tug; the trees on themarinatossed in the wind and the surf rumbled behind the mole. A clinking noise came up the harbor and Marston imagined the men whose rope he had thrown down were getting ready to go to sea at sunrise; vessels were not allowed to leave or enter port in the dark. This reminded Marston that it was some time since he had left Wyndham and they must reach the schooner before daybreak.
He went back up the slip, hoping he might be able to see the tug's deck. Now he was on higher ground, he noted a faint and rather puzzling illumination behind her bulwarks. Its position indicated that it came from the engine-room and he imagined the skylight was open but somebody had thrown a tarpaulin across the frames. The hinged lights opened from the bottom, and perhaps the engineer wanted to dry his paint andyet keep the heavy dew off the machinery. Anyhow, since there was a light in the engine-room, one could see below.
Marston hesitated at the bottom of the ladder. It would be very awkward if he were caught on board the tug; but he must find out if she were ready for sea and he wore light, rubber-soled deck shoes. The ladder was not fastened, for the top began to slip along the plates when he climbed, and he was forced to reach up and seize the rail. Next moment he stepped cautiously down on deck. Nobody seemed to have heard him and all was dark but for the glow from the skylight, which only shone for a few feet on the damp planks. As Marston made for the engine-room his foot struck an iron drum and he stopped. It was a paint-drum, but he must discover if it were empty and what paint the crew had used.
He tilted the drum and its lightness indicated that there was not much inside. Then he turned it round carefully until he could see the brass label on the top. The letters were obscured by paint, but he distinguished JES—and was satisfied. He knew the famous anti-fouling composition; the crew had put on the last coat and, so far as her being painted went, the tug was ready for sea. Now he must look at her engines, and he put back the drum. Its rim jarred on the deck and Marston thought he heard a movement below. Stooping down, he looked under the tarpaulin and got something of a shock.
A man stood on the floor plates in the engine-room, with his face turned up towards the skylight as if he had been disturbed. Marston could not see him well, because the bars of the top platform were in the way,but the fellow carried a small, bright piece of steel and a ball of waste. It looked as if he had been cleaning a valve-spindle, and his working at night was significant. Marston's heart beat, but after a few moments the other seemed to be satisfied and sitting down on a locker picked up a file.
When the fellow bent his head over his work Marston glanced carefully about the engine-room. He saw the condenser; the cover was on, which indicated that the repairs were finished. A chain tackle hung from the beams above the cylinders and some nuts lay about their heads. The pistons had obviously been lifted in order to put on new rings. Other things Marston noted implied that the engines had been given a thorough overhaul. He thought the work was nearly completed, but when one examined a vessel's engines the boiler was generally opened and he crept cautiously to the stokehold.
The ladder came up to a grating on deck and when he had gone down half way he struck a match. He could see the man-hole; the cover had recently been taken off and replaced, for smears of red-lead marked the joint, and Marston went cautiously back to the deck. He knew all he wanted to know. The tug had been put in first-rate order, as if in preparation for some important work, and he thought she could be floated off after another tide. He must now rejoin Wyndham as soon as possible. So far, he had been lucky, but when he went to the rail it looked as if his luck had turned.
A man, singing lustily, crossed themarinaand his hoarseness implied that he was returning from a carouse. As he passed the port-captain's office somebody hailed him and Marston heard him answer, "Fogonero."
There was a short colloquy that seemed to get abusive, and then somebody said, "Vaya al diablo!"
The man laughed and came on unsteadily towards the mole. He was a ship's fireman, and Marston, who did not want to meet him, hoped he was not making for the tug. After a few moments he fell down and Marston thought he kicked something savagely when he got up. His figure was now faintly distinguishable and it was plain that he meant to board the tug. Marston crawled round the skylight and crouched against the bulwarks on the other side. A rope ran across the rail and he tried to feel if its end was fast. The rope might help him to reach the ground.
Then the awkward steps stopped at the tug and the ladder shook. Its upper end slipped and a noise below indicated that the fireman had fallen off.
"Pancho, Panchito!" he shouted. "Come out and help, little parrot!"
Marston heard the engineer clatter across the iron platforms and cross the deck. So far as Marston could understand, his remarks were grossly rude, but the other interrupted:
"What is a small bottle ofcañato a fireman? It is the ladder that is drunk. If you will not hold it, little parrot, I must sleep in the cold."
To judge by the noise they made, Pancho seized the ladder while the other scrambled up. He jumped on deck, laughing boisterously, a door shut, and when the men's feet rattled on the platform bars in the engine-room Marston crawled across the deck. He found the top of the ladder, but had only gone down a few stepswhen it slipped across the side and threw him off. Although he did not fall far, the ladder struck the ground with a crash and he lay down in the gloom under the tug's bilge.
After waiting for a few moments he saw the others were not coming back on deck, and he got up and stole along the slip. Crossing the mole with a few quick steps, he climbed the parapet and dropped to the stones on the other side. When he had gone a hundred yards along the beach he whistled softly, and although the gravel rolled about in the languid surf heard Wyndham's answer. Then the gig's white hull appeared indistinctly among the streaks of foam, and he plunged into the backwash as a wave recoiled. Seizing the gig's bow, he pushed her off and got on board while Wyndham sculled her round. For two or three minutes they let her drift off-shore; and then stepped the mast and hoisted sail.
"Well?" said Wyndham. "Did you find the tug?"
Marston related his adventures and added: "I expect they'll float her off next tide, but some of the small jobs I noted would hardly be finished. Then she'll have to coal, fill her tanks, and get up steam. In fact, I don't imagine she could start until sometime after dark to-morrow. Five or six lighters were lying near the slip."
"She'll no doubt bring them across," said Wyndham thoughtfully. "I expect the skipper will go half-speed across the bay. Well, suppose she arrives in the morning? The sea-breeze will freshen as the sun gets high, and towing the loaded boats would be dangerous in broken water; perhaps we can take it forgranted the troops won't leave until it's dark. At night they'd get smooth water, because the wind's off the land. This means we have about forty-eight hours' warning. But slack the jib sheet a little. Our first job's to get on board by daybreak."
As they opened up the bay the sea got rougher, but the wind was on the gig's quarter and they let her go. She rolled on the angry combers and the boom that stretched the lugsail's foot tossed up. If she fell off much and the sail lurched across, the shock would capsize her or carry away the mast. Wyndham, however, held her straight and she drove on, with curling foam piled about her side. It was a wild run and they were glad when they got near the land again and found shelter. The sea was smooth now, and the breeze moderate, although it blew in gusts that heeled the boat and set the water splashing against her planks. Once or twice Wyndham made Marston strike a match and look at his watch.
"We may get in, but we have not much time to spare," he said at length.
The breeze fell and the boat rose nearly upright. Marston put out an oar and began to pull, for when he looked east the sky was getting pale. The gig was sailing, but the splash at the bows was faint and at times the canvas hung slack. Half an hour afterwards they pulled down the mast and Wyndham took the other oar.
"A steady stroke! Don't force the pace. But you have got to row!" he said.
The need for speed was plain. The eastern sky was clearing and the mist began to roll back from the coast. Marston saw a belt of surf and shadowy rocks andwoods. Ahead, a light marked the harbor mouth, but it was some distance off and the gig was a heavy boat for two men to row. Yet they must reach port before day broke, and, gasping and straining, they labored on. After his hasty glance about, Marston saw nothing but Wyndham's back, swinging to and fro in front with a regularity that he must emulate. He felt the bow lift as he dragged the heavy oar through the water; then there was a faint gurgle, and his heart beat as he swung forward again. His hands blistered and the sweat ran into his eyes.
At length, Wyndham said something hoarsely and a high wall, washed by languid surf, rose above the boat. They were entering the harbor, but Marston dared not turn to look ahead. The light was growing and the wall would guide them toColumbine. He must not miss a stroke, because the port-guard might be able to see them now. Three or four minutes afterwards, Wyndham stopped rowing and said, "Easy! Let her go!"
Marston fell forward with his oar and fought for breath. His heart beat like a hammer, his arms and legs trembled, and he felt he had not strength to lift his head. Then the end of his oar struck something and they were alongsideColumbine. Rousing himself with an effort, he leaned out and seized a rope. Wyndham got up and began to lift the mast.
"Find the compass and lantern; then help me put the gear on board," he said.
When the gig was empty of all but the oars they got over the schooner's rail and pulled off their wet clothes. In the tropics, white men, as a rule, do not bathe in cold water, but the galley fire was not lightedand Wyndham filled a bucket over the side. The cool brine braced them, and going to the cabin, they began to take out dry clothes. Wyndham, however, stopped, as if listening, and Marston heard the splash of oars.
"Pyjamas, I think," said Wyndham. "Somebody's coming."
As they put on their pyjamas the oars stopped close by and a man shouted.
"One of us will be enough," Wyndham resumed. "Look as sleepy as you can."
Marston went up, with his pyjamas half buttoned, and leaned on the rail. It was daylight, for on the Caribbean dawn comes swiftly at about six o'clock. A boat carrying two men in the port-guards' uniform floated a few yards off. Marston thought they were looking at the gig, and he waited in keen suspense.
"A note from Señor Larrinaga," said one.
"Don Ramon gets up early," Marston remarked with a yawn, and when the man gave him the note added: "Wait a minute."
Opening the envelope he went to the cabin and said to Wyndham, "We are asked to breakfast at the mission and see the soldiers parade. I imagine we're expected to stop the day. Don Ramon is sending horses; they'll be ready in half an hour."
"Well," said Wyndham, "I suppose we must go."
Marston gave the men a bottle ofcañaand sent them off. Then he went back and sat down limply.
"If we had been ten minutes longer, they'd have found us out," he said. "I don't feel up to riding far, and their asking us to the mission now is awkward. Still I expect we couldn't sail until it's dark. It's lucky we got our clearance papers."
Half an hour after the boat pulled away, Marston and Wyndham mounted the horses Larrinaga had sent. The mission was some distance off, but breakfast would not be served until about eleven o'clock and they rode slowly up the hill behind the town. Two soldiers followed thirty or forty yards in the rear, but Marston had found out that they knew no English. Wyndham was quiet and preoccupied.
"The horses are the best I've seen, and I suppose Don Ramon's sending an escort is something of a compliment," Marston said presently. "We are going to the mission like honored guests; I don't know about our coming back. Yet we must get back to-night."
"We calculated the tug would sail with the lighters to-morrow after dark and we need twenty-four hours' start," Wyndham replied. "It ought to be enough, if the breeze is strong; landing the troops will be a long job. However, we must not be late."
Marston agreed. Larrinaga was using every precaution to keep the dispatch of the expedition secret, and no doubt hoped to surprise the Bat. If they were too late, they might be captured with him. If, however, they brought him warning long enough beforehand, he might make a stubborn defense, and this would involve them in fresh entanglements.
"I'd feel happier if I knew the President's plans for to-day," Marston resumed.
"So would I," said Wyndham, smiling. "I imagine they will, to some extent, depend on the line we take. On the whole, his object for sending for us is plain; he wants to keep us away from the port as long as possible."
"If he thought we were spying for the Bat, he might lock us up."
"I think not. He would then have to inform the consul and state the grounds for our arrest. All the same, if he's not satisfied, he may tax us with cheating the customs or something of the kind and keep us until the tug has sailed. In the meantime, perhaps it's lucky we are not about the port, because I think Peters won't offer his help to the Government until he has seen us. If Larrinaga knew what Peters knows, we wouldn't reach the lagoon."
"I expect that is so," said Marston gloomily. "Well, it will be a big relief when all this intrigue is done with and we leave the coast for good."
For the most part they were silent until they reached the mission. The building was old and falling to ruin, but it had a touch of stateliness, for its foundations were laid when the Spanish conquerors were influenced by the austere beauty of Moorish art. The front was pierced by Saracenic arches that led to a cloistered walk on one side of the patio, from which an outside stair went up to the officers' rooms. The rest of the building was plainer and was now used for a barracks. Palms grew round the square in front and in the background dusky forest rolled back to the mountains that cut the sky. Two or three companies ofcazadoreswere drawn up in the square.
The President and Larrinaga received their guests atthe central arch, where chairs had been put in the shade. There was another gentleman, whom Wyndham imagined belonged to the President's cabinet, and he thought the minister quietly studied him and Marston. It was possible Señor Villar had joined the party with this object. If so, it looked as if the others had not yet decided if they were dangerous or not.
"Now you have arrived, we will go on with the drill," the President remarked. "Afterwards, Señor Marston will tell us what he thinks about my soldiers."
"My opinion is not worth much; I am a sailor," Marston replied with some awkwardness, because he thought the President was amused.
"You are modest," the latter rejoined. "Well, we cannot ask what you think about our fleet. Our gunboat, theCampeador, has stranded, and this only leaves us the tug."
"I have seen the tug," said Marston, and stopping for a moment, went on: "A very fine boat! She looks powerful and ought to steam fast."
Wyndham wondered whether the others had noted Marston's pause. It was not long and perhaps his frank admission would satisfy them.
"Let us try to turn kilometers into what you call knots," said the President. "It is a complicated sum; you must help me, Don Ramon."
"About twelve knots," Wyndham interposed when they began the calculation. "However, you must not indulge my comrade by letting him talk about ships. We came to see the soldiers."
The President signed to an officer, who shouted, and thecazadoreswheeled and formed on a new front. The bands and muzzles of their rifles sparkled in thesearching light and dust rolled about them as they moved. They were little, wiry men, and although they did not drill remarkably well and their white uniforms were not clean, Wyndham noted that their rifles were good. Moreover, their equipment was up to date and new.
The officer, shouting savagely, kept the men moving about, and when at length he dismissed them came back, hot and sprinkled by dust, with a look of disgust. Wyndham, allowing something for the German character, thought the disgust was rather marked.
"Then you are not satisfied yet?" the President asked.
"They are your Excellency's subjects," the other replied with a shrug. "I do my best, but we do not make much progress. Perhaps, with extra drill for two or three months——"
The President laughed. "One must use patience, and in this country one goes slowly. Besides, I do not know if speed is needed." He turned to Wyndham. "Now we will leave you to Don Arnoldo for a few minutes. I promised Señor Villar I would examine the quartermaster's books. There are people who grumble about our military extravagance."
He went off with the others and the officer sat down. Wyndham imagined him a soldier of fortune whose main object was to earn his pay. For all that, it looked as if he had been given a part in the plot and had played up well.
"I expect you find drilling these fellows a tiresome job," Marston said in English.
"It is so," the other agreed. "The President is too ambitious; I think he wastes his money. His peoplehave no military feeling; they are stupid individualists and one cannot give them mass-consciousness. One might make them brigands, but not soldiers. Yet I think they would fight, and after all, the best school for soldiers is war."
"You don't want a war for the sake of drilling your men!" Marston exclaimed, and the officer laughed.
"In my country, we are no longer sentimentalists and I do not pretend to be humanitarian. In the meantime, there is no war, and I am satisfied to draw my pay. Playing with soldiers is expensive, and some of the people grumble, but so far the pay is regular. When it stops I give up my post."
Soon afterwards, the President came back and breakfast was served behind the pillars. For a time he talked to Marston about the soldiers and then remarked: "I understand you do not stop long."
"Our business is nearly finished and we expect to sail very soon," Wyndham replied. "Now our visit to the coast is over, I feel there is much for which we must thank you and Don Ramon."
"We hope your visit has been prosperous enough to bring you back," Villar interposed. "You paid us some duties. All foreigners are not so honest."
"I expect foreigners are something of a nuisance. It is strange, but when one goes abroad one feels justified in breaking rules."
Villar smiled. "This is illogical. Have you broken our rules?"
"Not many; my partner is scrupulous, and if I have given way to temptation, it was not from greediness."
"Then what persuaded you?"
"Perhaps it was British impatience with other people's regulations. In a way, we are rather an arrogant lot, and it flatters our self-importance to know that if we do get into trouble our Consuls will probably save us from the punishment we deserve. You cannot lock up a drunken British sailor without inquiries being made. Don Arnoldo's people are proud of their army, but our fleet is ubiquitous."
"Señor Wyndham is frank, although I doubt if he is just to himself," the President remarked with a twinkle. "I will confess it is sometimes hard to bear with foreigners philosophically, but we make the effort. My country is poor and we need the trade and money they bring. If we do not always love them, we make allowances." He paused and gave Wyndham a thoughtful glance. "There is, however, one thing about which we are firm; no stranger must meddle with our politics. It is our Monroe doctrine and is sternly enforced."
"A good rule," Wyndham agreed. "After all, your people do not need much help from strangers; they have some talent for political intrigue. How many antagonistic parties have you just now?"
"Six," said the President dryly. "They hate each other, but to gain an advantage all will combine against my Government. Moreover, in this country, the vote is not the only way of marking one's disapproval. But we will let this go. You will stop with us to-night and Don Ramon will give you some shooting when the evening gets cool."
Wyndham thought quickly. He had expected something like this and it was obvious that much depended on his reply.
"We ought to go back," he said, with pretended hesitation. "You see, we want to sail as soon as the wind is fair and must get water and stores on board. It might, however, help if you would let us leave port at night. The land-breeze would carry us some distance off the coast before it dropped when the sun got up."
"Very well," said Larrinaga. "I will send the port-captain orders, and if you tell him when you want to sail he will let you go."
Wyndham allowed himself to be persuaded, and soon afterwards the President went off and Larrinaga took them to a shady room. He said dinner would be served at four o'clock and then they would go to a lake and shoot. When he left them Marston looked at Wyndham.
"Why did you agree to stop?"
"I did not think there was much use in refusing. Their urging us to stop was an experiment. If I had insisted on going, they'd have known why."
"Then, d'you imagine they'd keep us by force?" asked Marston.
"It's possible. I studied the President when I made my boast about our British citizenship. He stated they would allow no meddling with their politics, and he meant this. Anyhow, if I'd shown him his suspicions were well-grounded, he would have found a plausible excuse for keepingColumbinein port."
"All the same, we have got to get away," said Marston in a resolute voice.
Wyndham nodded. "That's plain. Well, if we go to bed soon after shooting and are lucky, they won't miss us until somebody brings our early breakfast. Idon't know if we can get the horses. Now I'm going to sleep."
He got into a hammock and Marston lay down in a long chair. They had been strenuously occupied all night and did not expect much rest the next. Nobody would bother them until dinner, and although they were disturbed and anxious they went to sleep.
After dinner Larrinaga took them to a lake, where they shot some ducks. The President was occupied when they returned at dark, and for a time they sat on the arcade, playing cards. The cards were Spanish and Marston could not remember their value and the rules of the game. Mosquitoes hovered about them, the night was gloomy and very hot. Something in the still air made one strangely languid. Moreover, he was tired and anxious, and he did not feel much relief when Villar put the cards away and they began to talk.
Marston suspected the others' remarks were not as careless as they looked and might lead him to some awkward statements. It was like fencing with a clever antagonist when all one could do was to stand clumsily on guard. For the most part, he left the talk to Wyndham, and although Harry played up well, Marston thought the effort was difficult. He wondered whether their companions saw this. There was one comfort; in the tropics, people got up early and he imagined their hosts would not sit very long.
At length Larrinaga pushed back his chair. "Time goes and my duties begin at sunrise. Then I think you would like to make an early start?"
Wyndham said they must get off as soon as possible, and Larrinaga nodded.
"Don Arnoldo will give the necessary orders aboutthe horses. They belong to the soldiers and nobody else is allowed about the stable. I believe he posts a guard at night. The Germans are like that, and the mission is now under military rule. It has drawbacks, but the army is the President's hobby and we submit."
The officer laughed and said the horses would be ready soon after daybreak, and when the others went off Marston and Wyndham climbed the outside stairs to their room.
"Looks as if they meant to keep us. Don Ramon's hint was plain," Marston observed.
"It's lucky white men don't walk much in this country," Wyndham replied. "Apasearround the plaza while the band plays is about all the exercise people take, and I don't imagine anybody above the rank of apeonhas ever walked from the mission to the port. In fact, it's very possible Don Ramon hasn't calculated that we might set off on foot." He paused and went to the window. "The night's dark but very calm. A noise would carry; we must wait for some time."
All was quiet at the mission but for the soft rustle of the palms when a puff of wind came down the hill. The last light had gone out behind the narrow windows across the patio, and Wyndham, looking at his watch, got up.
"We must chance it now," he said. "If all goes well, we ought to reach the port two or three hours before dawn and our hosts won't miss us until the major-domo sends our breakfast."
Marston pulled himself together. The port was a long way off and since he had left England he had not walked much, but it was obvious that he must make good speed to-night. Opening the door quietly, they stole downstairs, carrying their boots, and stopped for a few moments in the gloom of an arch. It was very dark; the palms across the square hardly showed against the sky. There was a sentry on the terrace, but they could not see him and waited until they heard his measured steps.
When the sentry passed the arch, they crept out and started across the square. Small stones hurt their feet, but they went on as fast as possible, until they heard a soft rattle of leather and jingle of steel. The sentry had wheeled round at the end of his beat and was coming back, and they lay down on the sand and waited until the steps receded. They must reach the gloom of the trees before he turned again, and they pushed on,listening hard. Marston's heart beat and his hands trembled as he clutched his boots. The measured steps stopped for a moment and then began to get louder, but Bob drew a deep breath when he distinguished the long branches of the palms overhead. Nobody could see him now.
A few minutes afterwards they set off down hill at the fastest pace they could make. The road was rough, one could not see the holes, and Marston was soon wet with perspiration. He had got soft in the tropics and his legs began to ache, but he thought he was going nearly five miles an hour. Since time was valuable, he must try to keep it up. He had no breath to talk and Wyndham said nothing; with clenched hands and eyes fixed straight in front they labored on. Half-seen palms went by, but in places the gloom was impenetrable, and now and then they fell into a hole.
By-and-by Marston's boot began to gall his foot. The smart got worse and sometimes he limped. When he did so, he dropped behind Wyndham, and setting his mouth tight he trod squarely. One could not walk fast on the side of one's foot; he must push on and bear the pain. It was ridiculous that he should lose time because his boot scraped his toe. Yet long afterwards he remembered the effort to keep up his speed.
When the first white houses of the town came out of the gloom his clothes were sticking to his skin and his wet hair was flat on his head. He stopped and sat down in a dusty gutter.
"I've got to take off my boots. There's a pavement of sorts," he gasped.
Wyndham nodded and looked about. The houses were indistinct and the sky was dark. He could notsee his watch, but he calculated it was about four o'clock and day would not break for two hours yet. Puffs of wind touched his wet face and he heard it in the trees behind the town. They were in time, but had none to waste.
"Be quick!" he said. "We're a mile from the harbor."
Marston got up and they set off. Straight and nearly blank walls now shut them in, for the houses got light from the patios. Wyndham's steps echoed in the dark, but except for this all was quiet. It looked as if nobody were about. A strange smell hung about the houses, for the street was narrow and the land-breeze did not sweep it clean.
By-and-by they crossed a square and kept back from a lamp at the end of another street. To meet one of the armed police would be awkward, for although the fellow's curiosity might be appeased by a bribe, to persuade him would occupy some time. They met nobody, but after some minutes Wyndham thought it prudent to cross thealameda, where shady paths wound among tall trees. The gloom would hide them and from one end a dark street ran down to the harbor. Marston agreed and set his lips as he struggled on, for the walks were covered by sharp, fresh gravel. Stealing along the dark street, they reached the mole and stopped for a moment. So far as they could see, the tug had not arrived, and although they distinguishedColumbine's masts against the sky, she was moored to a buoy some distance from the wall. Wyndham had warned the crew to keep a watch, but there was a risk in hailing them.
"One of the port-guards is generally about this side of the harbor," he said.
They listened, but only heard the sea splash against the wall and the wind in a neighboring vessel's rigging. The land-breeze was fresh and blew down the harbor. If they could get on board, it would not be long beforeColumbinewas at sea.
"We might swim," Marston suggested.
"I think not," said Wyndham. "There's a nasty, splashing ripple that would break in our faces; besides, the gig would be quicker. We must chance a hail."
He shouted and Marston clenched his fist when no answer came. It was unthinkable that they should be stopped by the negligence of a sleepy look-out. Before long the port-guard would walk up the mole, and if they were not gone, would take them to the captain's office. One must get leave to go on board, because the port was closed at night.
They waited for two or three minutes, since Wyndham dared not shout again, and then a soft rattle came out of the dark. Marston started and thrilled.
"I believe that's somebody jumping into the gig," he said.
"It is," said Wyndham softly, and after a few moments added: "She's coming."
They could not see the boat and she made very little noise. There was no splash; it looked as if somebody sculled her cautiously. By and by a dark object glided out of the gloom beside the wall and they went to the steps.
"Go back softly, softly," Wyndham said to the indistinct figure in the stern as they got on board.
In a few minutes they reached the schooner and Marston's spirits rose. He had done with tracks and plots; now his job was straightforward. Moreover, he knew it well.
"I'll cast off the bow mooring," he said when Wyndham got on board. "Give me a line and you can haul the chain up quietly. It mustn't run through the pipe."
Shoving the gig forward, he jumped out on the buoy; then he unscrewed the shackle and, fastening on the line he brought, waved his hand. The chain slipped gently into the water and did not make much noise when the men on board pulled it up.Columbinewas free now and had begun to drift when Marston seized her rail. He made the gig's painter fast and left her alongside, because the blocks on the Burton tackle would clatter if they tried to hoist her in. It was something to feel the schooner's deck under his galled feet, but there was much to be done before he could indulge his relief. Although they could not see the tug, she might have reached the port, and they must pass the three-mile limit before they would be safe. In the meantime,Columbinewas drifting slowly down the harbor.
"We must chance hoisting the staysail," Wyndham remarked. "Get it up handsomely; stop if the chain clinks much."
The staysail had chain halyards and Marston sent a man aloft with a grease-swab. For all that, the halyard made some noise and the sail thrashed in the fresh breeze, until they hauled the sheets and Wyndham got her round.Columbine, with a small triangle of canvas set, stole down the harbor, and if the port-guards did not keep a keen look out, she might get away.
Marston, sitting on the bowsprit loosing the jib, watched the shadowy wall move back. They were passing the Cuban barque and she was not far from the end of the mole.Columbinemoved faster; he heard the water ripple at her bows, and the beam of the lighthouse ahead got near. It was a sector light, screened on one bearing, and they could keep outside its illumination.
In a few minutes they would clear the end of the mole, and when the jib was loose Marston looked aft. Shadowy figures moved about the deck, getting the canvas ready to hoist. Not long since, he had doubted if they could steal out of the harbor. When one studied the plan coolly, it looked ridiculous, but they had tried and he began to hope they would succeed. Then he turned his head and thrilled as he saw the end of the mole slip by.
"Hoist the outer jib," said Wyndham when Marston joined him. "We must be cautious. The captain's launch has steam up and could catch us yet."
They got to work. The blocks rattled as the jib went up, but the wind blew the noise away. The splash at the bows was louder, and Wyndham waited, measuring the distance from the receding mole.
"Boom-foresail," he said sharply.
The tall dark canvas rose and swelled.Columbinebegan to list and trailed a white line astern. The mole faded and the light looked farther off.
"Mainsail next," said Wyndham. "Hoist handsomely."
The winch by the mast began to clink; the big sail shook and thudded while its slack folds blew out, and the Kroos started a wild paddling song. The tensionwas over; they were running out to sea and nobody could hear them now. The song, however, soon got breathless; it was hard to drag up the heavy canvas while she was before the wind and Wyndham would not round her to. He braced himself against the wheel and steered off-shore for the three-mile limit.
They set the sail, and got more wind as they left the land. She rolled and foam ran level with her dipping rail. The long main boom lurched up and groaned; one heard the masts creak and the rigging hum. Her wake ran back into the dark like a white cataract.
"Hoist gaff-topsail," said Wyndham. "Trim the squaresail-yard."
Marston gave him a quick glance and then got to work. He doubted if the gear would stand the strain, but Harry knew the boat. Although the Krooboys looked surprised, it was obvious that they trusted him. It cost them a struggle to cover her with sail, and she drove along almost too fast to roll. A white wave stood up above her waist, another curled astern, and the hollow squaresail swelled like a balloon. Although the sea was smooth, water foamed on board and spray swept the deck in savage showers. The men crouched behind the bulwarks and when Marston went aft he got an exhilarating sense of speed.
"Do you want help?" he asked. "Can you hold her?"
"I think I can," said Wyndham, with an exultant note in his voice. "We have sailed some hard races, Bob, but none for a stake like this. If the masts will stand, she must go to-night!"
Marston nodded. "Looks as if we ought to win! I imagine the tug is not in harbor and Don Ramon iscomfortably persuaded we're asleep at the mission. When he finds we're not, we'll be a long way off. I don't suppose they can march the troops to the port and embark them before it's dark." He paused and laughed when he resumed: "His promise to send the port-captain orders to let us go if we told him when we wanted to sail was clever. He knew, of course, we couldn't do so."
He sat down on a coil of rope and lighted his pipe. Now the long strain was over, a reaction had begun. His head was heavy; he felt very tired and limp. Showers of spray blew about and when he began to get wet he thought he would go to the cabin and study the chart. It was plain that they could not leave the schooner at the lagoon; besides a little mental exercise might rouse him.
When he lighted the lamp he found he could not see the small figures on the chart. His eyes and brain were dull, for two nights and a day of effort and suspense had worn him out. The coast-line, however, was clearly marked and indicated a number of bays and inlets. So far as Marston could remember, they were bordered by mangrove swamps with dark forest behind. Looking up at the compass, which was fixed in the skylight and allowed the glow of the binnacle lamp to shine through, he tried to calculate where Wyndham was steering. He could not fix the course within two or three points and presently gave it up. Then his head dropped forward, the chart fell on the floor, and sinking down on the locker cushion, he fell asleep.
At daybreak Wyndham entered the cabin and wakened Marston. The latter yawned, stretched his arms, and glanced at the compass.
"It's getting light. I expect I've been asleep," he said. "Where are we heading?"
Wyndham picked up the chart and indicated a spot. "This bay. She has made a good run, although the wind has nearly gone."
"You know where to find the Bat, I think?"
"I have a notion," Wyndham replied, indicating another spot some distance from the coast. "But come up on deck. The sun will soon rise and I must try to get our bearings."
Marston went up. The wind had dropped and was now very faint.Columbine, carrying all the sail they could set, scarcely crept across the smoothly heaving sea. Ahead, a bank of mist hid the low coast; farther back, vague mountain tops rose against the pale sky. In places, rippling streaks lined the gray water. The picture had a strangely flat and lifeless touch that reacted on Marston. He felt dull, and shivered, although it was not cold. Turning to the galley, he saw a plume of smoke trail from the bent funnel.
"I'll get some coffee and then we'll talk," he said.
Coming back in a few minutes with a jug, he sat down on the stern-gratings.
"To begin with, can you hide the boat?" he asked.
"Not properly. There are one or two creeks, but they'd, so to speak, invite examination. On the whole, I'd sooner trust an open beach.Columbine's low hull and masts won't be very distinct against a background of forest. I'm steering for an anchorage behind some shoals."
Marston signed agreement. "Larrinaga can't keep the tug searching the coast; he'll send her back for supplies. I expect he knows how to reach the Bat."
"It's possible. He has spies and the German Colonel has, no doubt, made careful plans. There are two routes; east and west of the high ground, and I reckon he'll send thecazadoresup in two columns. The first will probably try to get behind the Bat's position."
"Then, we'll strike one column's line of march," said Marston, thoughtfully. "In fact, since we must come back, we'll strike it twice."
"Yes. I see some advantage in this. Our taking their path won't matter when we go up, because we'll be in front, and we agreed that the time of our arrival is important. We must give the Bat just long enough to reach the coast before the soldiers turn back and cut us off. I expect it will mean our pushing across the hills for some distance. When we cross their line we'll be in front again."
Marston signified his agreement by a nod. It was plain that they must leave much to luck, and lighting his pipe, he leaned against the rail. As the sun rose the mist ahead began to melt. Wooded heights rose out of the streaming vapor and presently Wyndham found the marks he wanted and went off to sleep whileMarston kept his anxious watch. It was now nearly calm. Sometimes a puff of wind ruffled the water; sometimes the sails hung slack and the ripple at the bows died away. The sun got hot, the smooth swell shimmered with reflected light, and nothing indicated when the sea-breeze would begin.
The calm, however, would not stop the tug, and Marston pictured her steaming up from San Cristobal with engines thumping hard and the empty lighters astern. News ofColumbine's departure had, no doubt, reached the mission; bugles would be calling and thecazadoresstrapping on their equipment ready to start. Still it was a long march to the harbor and Marston hardly thought the troops would embark before nightfall. If wind would come, Wyndham might keep in front of them, but in the meantimeColumbinehardly moved. Marston wondered whether they ought to hoist out the gig and tow, although the labor would be exhausting and they could not make much progress.
A dark streak broke the glittering surface, a cool draught touched Marston's face, and the slack sails swelled.Columbinebegan to move, and presently gathering speed, listed over to the fresh sea-breeze.
After an hour or two, he wakened Wyndham, who got another bearing and changed the course. At dusk they steered for the coast and towards morning anchored behind a shoal. There was nothing but the background to hide the vessel and Marston knew the risk when they landed with four of the crew. In the steamy heat of the forest, exertion soon wears a white man out, and the negroes were needed to carry food and some shelter from the dew at night.
After dark on the second evening, they reached the Bat's headquarters, in the company of a gang of savage negroes. They were exhausted by the journey, their clothes were torn, and they did not know if the negroes were their captors or their guides. So far as one could see, the village looked mean. A few small mud huts stood among mahogany trees and big cottonwoods. There was no light in the huts, but a fire burned outside one, and although the night was warm, indistinct figures crouched about the blaze. They vanished and appeared again when the light leaped up, and Marston remembered the factory boys squatting round the fires in Africa. But the Kroo laborers sang, and these fellows were strangely silent. In fact, a daunting quietness brooded over the spot.
The Bat's hut was larger than the rest and a rude veranda occupied the front. There was no furniture except some mats and stools, and a badly-cleaned paraffin lamp gave a dim light. The Bat sat on a carved stool and wore a striped tennis jacket over his dirty white clothes. His legs and feet were bare; his lips stuck out and his nostrils were wide, and Marston felt that to fear and shrink from him was ridiculous. Yet he did shrink. Then he noted with some surprise that Father Sebastian occupied a mat in the corner. Next moment the Bat looked up with a mocking grin.
"Why you lib for my village? It d—— poor place," he said.
"We'll explain that later," Wyndham replied. "In the meantime, why is Father Sebastian here?"
"I take care of him," said the Bat. "Fool black man rob his church." He paused and added with a cruel smile: "Them fool man pay."
Wyndham turned to the priest. "Will you give us a few minutes,padre? We will send for you soon."
Father Sebastian got up and the Bat nodded, as if he gave him leave to go. He went out and Wyndham sat down on a mat.
"Now," he said, "suppose you drop this negro mummery and talk like an Englishman. I want to remember you are Rupert Wyndham. No doubt you meant to keep the missionary for a hostage, but it's not important. I imagine you did not expect to see us?"
Rupert's face changed. Something of its coarseness vanished, his lips straightened, and he looked less like a mulatto.
"I did expect you. Anyhow, I heard white men were coming, although I could only account for one," he said and added with an ominous smile: "I sent to meet you because I did not want you to lose your way."
Marston knew that in Africa the negroes can signal news across the bush with remarkable speed. It looked as if Rupert had learned how this was done and taught his people.
"Whom did you expect?" he asked.
"Peters. He is a fool, but he has pluck. Some pluck is needed when one tries to blackmail me!"
"I imagine Peters will come later, but not to bargain with you," Marston said dryly. "We have some grounds for believing he means to sell you to the Government."
Rupert's glance got very keen. "Ah," he said, "this is interesting! Perhaps it explains your visit, which rather puzzled me."
"Before long you will get some fresh news," Wyndham interposed. "Larrinaga and the German colonel, with two or three companies ofcazadores, have landed and are marching for your village."
For a few moments Rupert did not move and his face was inscrutable. Then he looked up and the red veins in his eyes were very plain.
"Is this true? You will find it dangerous to cheat me!"
Wyndham told him what they had found out and stated the conclusions they had drawn. When he stopped Rupert nodded.
"It looks plausible; you are cleverer than my spies, but we will wait. If the soldiers have landed, I will soon know."
"You may wait too long!"
"If there's a risk, you share it," said Rupert meaningly. "You were rash when you came to see me without being asked. However, the entrance of the lagoon is shallow and the surf is often bad. Can Larrinaga find the channel?"
"Pepe, the pilot, is with him. I expect he'll steer the tug."
"Ah!" said Rupert. "I rather trusted Pepe, but he has been bribed. Well, it is possible he will get his reward. However, I imagine you have made some plans for me."
Wyndham braced himself. Although luck had given him strong arguments, Rupert was bold and cunning. Since his situation looked desperate, he might try some desperate remedy that would ruin them all. He must be persuaded to use the obvious way of escape.
"You can't fight; it's too late," he said. "If youstart now and we push across the hills between the two columns, we may cross one detachment's line after they have passed. When they find out you have gone, we will have got a start and ought to travel faster than loaded soldiers. The schooner is ready and would sail in a few minutes after we got on board. I don't see another plan, and if you're caught Larrinaga will shoot you. His men are well equipped and drilled. He has been getting ready for some time."
Rupert pondered for a minute or two, and the others waited anxiously. Then he said, "If I go, I leave people who trusted me in Larrinaga's power. It is not a very heroic exit."
"Does this count for much?"
"On the whole, it does not," said Rupert coolly. "After all, my followers can take care of themselves. They are an elusive lot and Don Ramon would soon wear out his troops hunting them in the bush. All the same, to slink away is something of an anti-climax."
"We didn't run a big risk in order to help you save your dignity," Wyndham rejoined, and Rupert gave him a mocking smile.
"Your object's plain and I owe you nothing. You hope to mend the family's fortunes, and see an awkward chance of its getting known that a leader of negro rebels is your relation. However, what do you reckon to do with me if I go? You proposed, another time, that I should return to England."
"We don't propose it now. We'll land you at an American port and I will try to pay you a small allowance so long as you stay in the United States. The South might suit you and one could trust the Americans to see you didn't make trouble there."
"For guests, you take a bold line. It's rather strange you imagine I'm forced to agree. You don't seem to understand that there's not much to prevent my leaving you here and going off with your yacht."
"We thought about this," Wyndham replied. "If we don't return by a stipulated time,Columbinewill sail and carry a statement I left with the mate to the British officers at Kingston, Jamaica. The cable is ready for slipping, the sails are loose, and if strangers try to board her, the boat will go to sea."
"One must approve your caution," said Rupert dryly. "Well, I think my plans were good, and but for two things they might have been carried out. Our robbing Father Sebastian's church forced Larrinaga to move, but I was not responsible for this. The other's more important and the mistake was mine." He turned to Marston as he went on: "When you were ill with fever I ought to have poisoned you. Instead I tried a cure civilized doctors would hesitate to use."
"Ah!" said Marston, "you saved my life?"
"I don't want thanks. To some extent, I thought it policy. It did not seem worth while to bother about your antagonism then. Afterwards, when we tried to drown you, we were too late. You had persuaded your partner; your work was done. If you had not meddled, I'd have led him where I wanted."
"I think that is so, Bob. I owe you much," Wyndham interposed.
"If Harry had brought me the supplies I needed, I could have fought the President's troops," Rupert resumed, fixing his bloodshot eyes on Marston. "Well, you spoiled the plot, and if I'm beaten now, it is not Larrinaga but you who wins. You ought to beflattered. For such a man as you are, it's a remarkable victory!"
There was something sinister in his sneering voice and Wyndham said sharply, "It will be prudent for you to see Bob does not fall ill again. If I meet with any misfortune, he will make you accountable."
Rupert shrugged. "We will let it go and wait until news about the soldiers arrives. In the meantime, I have some preparations to make. You can sleep until I come back. Nobody will disturb you."
"I have a pistol, but don't expect to use it," Wyndham replied. "Your need of our help is our best protection, and so long as the need is obvious I think we are pretty safe."
When Rupert went out they lay down on the mats. Although they were near physical exhaustion, it was impossible to sleep. The tension they had borne had not relaxed, because until the news of the soldiers' advance was signalled the situation was not free from danger. The tug might strand among the shoals, a strong breeze and breaking surf might stop her entering the lagoon to land the troops, and delay would give Rupert time to form fresh plans. Marston did not trust him yet. If Rupert could escape without their help, he would not leave them at liberty to meddle again.
They heard nothing from outside and the hut was very quiet. The silence began to wear Marston's nerve. He could not wait much longer, but it might be rash to go out, and he forced himself to smoke, although the tobacco burned his tongue and his mouth was parched. It looked as if Rupert were not coming back. Perhaps he had cheated them and gone offalone. Marston pictured his malicious grin as he stole off through the bush and left them to wait for Larrinaga.
At length, however, Rupert returned to the hut. "I have got news," he said coolly. "Your boys are ready and we will start. Father Sebastian is an embarrassment; you will see that we cannot leave him behind."
"Send for him," said Wyndham. "You had better understand that I'm accountable for his safety."
Father Sebastian came in, and Wyndham asked if he would promise to say nothing about their visit and departure with the Bat.
"No," said Father Sebastian, "I will not promise. I do not know what is happening, but it looks as if the punishment this man deserves were overtaking him. I will not help him to escape."
"You are in his power yet," Wyndham remarked.
Father Sebastian smiled. "I am an old man and my work in the dreary swamps is hard. My life is not worth much; there are things I value more."
"I was wrong," said Wyndham quietly. "However, since you refuse, we must take you with us as far as the coast. It would help if you promised not to run away."
"I will run away, if it is possible. This man is bad and cruel; I think he killed your agent, and now he is stealing off, the soldiers must be coming. I will warn them if I can."
"After all, is this your business? You are a missionary," Wyndham urged.
"I am the Church's servant and a citizen of the country the Bat defies. Perhaps its rule is corrupt,but it is better than his. Its citizens are Christians and follow the light, although their steps are sometimes weak; these others would plunge the land in the dark of superstitious horror. I know, I have long watched the shadow deepen."
"You are a loyal servant," Wyndham replied. "I am afraid you must come with us, but we will try to make your journey easy."
"White man fool man! Black man fix them thing different," Rupert remarked with his cruel grin. Then he indicated Marston and added in good English: "This fellow is certainly a fool, but his boyish scruples have beaten my cleverest schemes."
He signed them to go out. The Krooboys from the schooner were waiting, and in a few minutes the party plunged into the woods.