It seemed a long time for the waiting officers in their disguise, but at last the clanking of chains was heard and out marched the prisoners, seven in number, and heavily ironed. The pretended captain placed them in single file between his men, and off they marched in the darkness and storm. They did not return to the cabin, but continued along the shore, until they came to a boat, and dimly seen offshore was a small sailing craft. “Now, señor, unlock these irons, and let the men go aboard as quickly as possible, for their craft must be well off the coast before dawn, and with this gale they can be, for it blows straight out of the harbor. Then see us back to the cabin, and your work is done,” said Mark Merrill. “I should know that voice among a thousand--by heaven! you are Mark Merrill.” “Yes, Bascomb, but breathe it not, for we are Spanish soldiers this night of our Lord.” “Ever the same noble, gallant fellow, Merrill, and God knows I’ll never forget you for this, will we----” “Come, you must be off, or you will undo all that has been done. There is your craft and two men on board, chartered for the cruise--please go.” And thus urged the rescued men hastened into the boat, which at once shoved off, while brave Bascomb cried: “We’ll meet again, Merrill; God bless you and your brave crew, whoever they be.” “Now we must get out of this,” said Mark, and the Spaniard led the way rapidly back to the hut. When the uniforms were discarded Mark handed the Spaniard the amount promised him, and getting into their boat, it was headed back to the Frolic. “Merrill,” said Bemis Perry, in a low tone. “Yes?” “You engineered the bravest act of your life to-night, one which, dared it be known, would win you a name that would never die. I am proud to have been with you; but did you see that Clemmons skulked away when Bascomb recognized you, that he uttered no word?” “Yes, he’s the same old Clemmons, Perry,” was the reply. The ship was reached, and when the next morning came the news of the daring rescue of the prisoners became known, but no one placed the daring deed where it belonged, and that the call of the captured men was a close one was proven by the deliberate and cruel execution, as the murder was called, of scores of gallant men who had volunteered to aid the patriot cause of Cuba, and were doomed to death by the butcher, Buriel. Soon after the Frolic steamed away from the shores of the ever faithful isle, and no one ever dreamed the real truth of that midnight rescue of Americans led by Mark Merrill. CHAPTER XLVIII. CONCLUSION. After her West Indian cruise the Frolic dropped anchor in New York harbor, and, to his surprise, Mark Merrill found a leave of absence granted him from active duty. A letter from his mother partly explained the situation. She had begged the leniency of a leave for him. Upon his arrival in B---- his mother met him, and upon the drive home he learned the story, which I will now let the reader know.