Roderic was duly impressed with the witchery of his surroundings, nor did the romantic nature of his own errand fail to stamp itself upon his mind. Thus they quitted the side of the yacht and headed directly for the steamer whose vague outlines could just be dimly seen through the haze and darkness. Hardly had they proceeded five boatlengths than Captain Beven who sat beside him in the stern-sheets, turning his head to take a last loving glance at his own little craft, uttered an exclamation. This of course caused Roderic to follow suit. He saw instantly what had caught the old sailor's eye. A woman's white duck dress stirred by the night breeze drew his attention to the quarter deck. It was Cleo, who had come on deck again, possibly to discover whether he had aroused from his state of dreamy forgetfulness. Did she know where they were going--was she aware of his presence in the boat? Impossible. He might have called out, but that would hardly have been politic--she should hear the results of the adventure when they returned. His attention was now entirely occupied with the craft which their boat, urged on by the strokes of the two men, was rapidly approaching. As she loomed out of the water, even Roderic could see she was fairly well laden. He could imagine the cargo would be one that might prove of great value to the forces of General Blanco, could it be landed at Havana in spite of the Yankee fleet lying off that city. When they came close up Roderic saw the British flag floating from the stern. Then his eyes sought the smoke stack, and as near as he could judge in the uncertain light it appeared to answer the description he had received of the Sterling Castle--the funnel was dark below and light above, probably buff, with the trade-mark of its line in relief. It mattered little, since Captain Beven was about to settle this matter once and for all. Their approach had been noisy enough to attract attention, and as they came up, a deep voice hailed them. It was a decidedly English voice, and the salutation lacked the extreme courtesy that might have been expected had the vessel floated the colors of Spain, France or Italy. "Hello! the boat--what d'ye want?" That was to the point, at least. Captain Beven made immediate answer to the effect that it was his desire to come aboard and pay his respects to his old friend the skipper, upon hearing which the man who had hailed from the deck sang out his readiness to receive them. It may be readily understood that Roderic found himself alongside the blockade runner with singular emotions stirring within his mind. The remarkable had happened again, for it was quite out of the common that the two vessels thus came together in the Azores. She was aboard this craft, the girl for whom his soul yearned. Perhaps he would even see her ere the lapse of many minutes.