tching out his hands he could grip them by the ankles, without
altering his recumbent attitude one inch. And by doing this, he might
give the guilty plotters such a scare as would cause them to retreat,
and so baffle their design.

The thought comes before his mind, but is instantly abandoned. The
fellows are not of the stuff to be frightened at shadows. By their
talk, at least two are desperadoes, and to make known his presence would
be only to add another victim to those already doomed to death.

But what is he to do? For the third time he asks himself this question,
still unable to answer it.

While still painfully cogitating, his brain labouring to grasp some
feasible plan of defence against the threatened danger, he is warned of
a change. Some words spoken tell of it. It is De Lara who speaks them.

"By the way, _camarados_, we're not in a good position here. They may
sight us too soon. To make things sure, we must drop on them before
they can draw their weapons. Else some of us may get dropped
ourselves."

"Where could we be better? I don't see. The shadow of this old boat
favours us."

"Why not crawl under it?" asks Calderon. "There Argus himself couldn't
see us."

Harry Blew's heart beats at the double-quick. His time seems come, and
he already fancies four pistols to his head, or the same number of
poniards pointed at his ribs.

It is a moment of vivid anxiety--a crisis dread, terrible, almost
agonising.

Fortunately it is not of long duration, ending almost on the instant.
He is relieved at hearing one of them say:

"No; that won't do. We'd have trouble in scrambling out again. While
about it they'd see or hear us, and take to their heels. You must
remember, it's but a step to where their boat will be waiting them, with
some eight or ten of those big British tars in it. If they got there
before we overtook them, the tables would be turned on us."

"You're right, Don Manuel," rejoins De Lara; "it won't do to go under
the boat, and there's no need for us to stay by it. _Mira_! yonder's a
better place--by that wall. In its shadow no one can see us, and the
_gringos_ must pass within twenty feet of it. It's the very spot for
our purpose. Have with me!"

No one objecting, the four separate from the side of the boat and glide
silently as spectres across the strip of sandy beach, their forms
gradually growing indistinct in the fog, at length altogether
disappearing beneath the som