It was a strangely restless gathering. The Cubans sat in groups or
in pairs with their heads together, smoking furiously and
whispering, pausing now and then to glare balefully at some
detective who drew within ear-shot. Every hour increased the
strain.
On the street it became known that a party of filibusters was in
the city and curious townspeople came to investigate, while others
journeyed to the water-front to stare at the big ocean-going tug
which had slipped into the harbor on the evening previous. When
they learned that she was none other than the Dauntless, that most
famous of Cuban blockade-runners, and that "Dynamite Johnny"
O'Brien himself was in command, interest grew. The exploits of
that redoubtable mariner were familiar to the citizens of
Charleston, and their sympathies were quite naturally with the
cause he served; therefore they were disappointed to behold a
revenue cutter at anchor close alongside the Dauntless. Her steam
was up; she was ready for instant action; it seemed impossible for
"Dynamite Johnny" to get his cargo and his passengers aboard under
her very nose. Some imaginative person claimed to have a tip that
the Dauntless intended to ram the revenue cutter, and a warning to
that effect appeared in the evening paper, together with the rumor
that a Spanish cruiser was waiting just outside the three-mile
limit.
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