"You must have been talking to yourself. I say, what a lovely night! Did you notice that signal that we ran up?" "No," cried Fitz eagerly. "It was while you were looking at the sunset. Father made me run up a flag. Don't you remember my asking you to let me have the glass a minute?" "Yes, of course." "Well--I don't mind telling you now--that was to the fort, and they answered it just in time before it was too dark to see. I think they hoisted lights afterwards, three in a particular shape, but there were so many others about that father couldn't be sure." "Then I suppose that means going into port at daylight?" "Yes, and land our cargo under the guns of the fort. I say, listen." "What to?" "That," said Poole, in a whisper. "Oh yes, that splashing. Fish, I suppose." "No," whispered Poole. "I believe it's oars." He had hardly spoken when the skipper's voice was heard giving orders almost in a whisper; but they were loud enough to be heard and understood, for there was a sudden rush and padding of feet about the deck, followed by a soft rattling, and the next minute the middy was aware of the presence of a couple of the sailors armed with capstan-bars standing close at hand. Then all was silence once more, and the darkness suddenly grew more dense, following upon a dull squeaking sound as of a pulley-wheel in a block. "They've doused the light," whispered Poole. "It's a boat coming off from the shore," he continued excitedly, with his lips close to the middy's ear. "It's the people we expect, I suppose, but father is always suspicious at a time like this, for you never know who they may be. But if they mean mischief they will get it warm." Fitz's thoughts went back at a bound to the dark night when he boarded with the cutter's crew, and his heart beat faster and faster still as, leaning outward to try and pierce the soft transparent darkness of the tropic night, he felt his arm tightly gripped by Poole with one hand, while with the other he pointed to a soft pale flashing of the water, which was accompanied by a dull regular _splash, splash_. "Friends or enemies," whispered Poole, "but they don't see us yet. I wonder which they are." Just then the lambent flashing of the phosphorescent water and the soft splashing ceased. It was the reign of darkness far and near. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. ANXIOUS TIMES. As the minutes glided by in the midst of that profound silence, a fresh kind of feverish feeling began to steal over Fitz. There in the distance, apparently beyond the dome of great stars which lit up the blackish purple heavens, was the dull glowing cloud which looked like one that the sunset had left behind; beneath that were the twinkling lights of the town, and between the schooner and that, a broad black plain of darkness, looking like a layer which extended as high as the top of the masts.