It was the fullest hour of their
lives.
Sometimes he thought she must be dozing, but he was never sure,
for she answered to his lightest touch and awoke to the faintest
pressure of his lips. The night wore swiftly on, and it was not
long enough for either of them.
With daylight, Morin routed out his men. There was a sleepy
muttering, the patter of bare feet upon the deck above, then the
creak of blocks as the sails were raised. From forward came the
sound of some one splitting wood to kindle the charcoal fire for
breakfast. Other sailing-craft seemed to be getting under way, and
a fishing-boat, loaded with the night's catch, came to anchor
alongside.
The three brothers Villar felt the schooner heel slightly and knew
that she was stealing toward the Spanish gunboat which was
supposed to be on guard against precisely such undertakings as
this. A few moments, then there came a hail which brought their
hearts into their throats. Morin himself answered the call.
"Good morning, countryman! Have you caught any of those accursed
filibusters since I saw you last? So? Cayo Romano, eh? Well, they
come in the night and they go in the night. If I were the pilot of
your ship I'd guarantee to put you where they'd fall into your
arms, for I know these waters. What have I aboard?" Morin laughed
loudly. "You know very well--cannon and shot for the rebels, of
course.
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