The lady entered the office, but Dick thought her telegram would not be sent, and a moment later the captain's plan dawned on him. The ship would call at the ports named, but not in the order stated, and this was why she needed so much coal. She would probably steam first to the port farthest off and then work backward, and the sailing list was meant to put the raider off the track. The latter's commander, warned by spies who would send him the list, would think he knew where to find the vessel at any particular date, when, however, she would be somewhere else. Then Dick wondered why the musician was hanging about, and went up to him. "The sobrecargo's busy," he said in English. "You'll be taken to sea unless you get up on deck." "I no wanta el sobrecargo," the man replied in a thick, stupid voice. "The music is thirsty; I wanta drink." The second-class bar was farther down the alleyway, and Dick, indicating it, turned back and made his way to the poop as fast as he could, for he did not think the man was as drunk as he looked. He found the musicians collecting their stands, and went up to the bandmaster. "There's one of your men below who has been drinking too much cana," he said. "You had better look after him." "But they are all here," the bandmaster answered, glancing round the poop. "The man had a flute." "But we have no flute-player." "Then he must have been a passenger," said Dick, who hurried to the gangway. After hailing his fireman to bring the launch alongside, he threw a quick glance about. The shore boatmen were pushing their craft abreast of the ladder and shouting as they got in each other's way, but one boat had already left the ship and was pulling fast towards the harbor. There seemed to be only one man on board besides her crew, and Dick had no doubt that he was the flute-player. He must be followed, since it was important to find out whom he met and if, as Dick suspected, he meant to send off a telegram. But the liner's captain must be warned, and Dick turned hastily around. The windlass was rattling and the bridge, on which he could see the captain's burly figure, was some distance off, while the passage between the gangway and deckhouse was blocked by the departing guests. The anchor would probably be up before he could push his way through the crowd, and if he was not carried off to sea, he would certainly lose sight of the spy. Writing a line or two on the leaf of his pocket-book, he tore it out and held it near a Creole steward boy. "Take that to the sobrecargo at once," he cried, and seeing the boy stoop to pick up the note, which fell to the deck, ran down the ladder. He had, however, to wait a minute while the fireman brought the launch alongside between the other boats, and when they pushed off Don Sebastian, scrambling across one of the craft, jumped on board. He smiled when Dick looked at him with annoyed surprise.