excellent progress, advancing silently along the soft sand, assured I
was safe from observation by reason of the intense darkness. The waves
lapping the beach helped muffle my footsteps, but no other sound
reached my ears, nor could my eyes perceive the slightest movement
along the water surface within reach of vision. The distance proved
somewhat greater than anticipated, because of the deep curve in the
shore, and I had nearly reached the conclusion that the boat must have
rounded the point and gone on, when suddenly I was brought to a halt
by a voice speaking in Spanish--one of those harsh, croaking voices,
never to be reduced to a whisper. Imperfect as was my knowledge of the
tongue, I yet managed a fair understanding of what was being said.

"Not the spot, Manuel? Of course it is; do you not suppose I know? The
cursed fog made me run in close ashore to where I could see the sloop,
so as not to mistake. This is the place, and now there is nothing to
do but wait. The Senor--he will be here presently."

"Ay, unless you misread the signal," a somewhat more discreet, but
piping voice replied doubtfully. "I saw nothing of all you tell
about."

"Because you knew no meaning, nor read the instructions," a touch of
anger in the tone. "I tell you it was all written out in that letter
brought to me from England on the _Wasp_. They were his last orders,
and it was because of them that we anchored off the point yonder, and
explored this coast. You saw the Senor touch the handkerchief to his
cheek?"

"As he went forward alone--yes, surely."