"We have not yet found them. We neither know where the fort is, nor where we are ourselves. Don't you see that the night is as dark as the inside of a cannon, and one can't make out his finger before him? They're safe enough while this storm lasts; and, by good luck, so are we." It was in truth to the storm that the Mexicans owed their present security. Few in numbers, and ignorant of the locality in which they had landed, an attack by the troops of the garrison might have proved fatal to them. Thanks to the tempestuous character of the night, they had not only found an opportunity of debarking on the isle, but time to mature their plans for assaulting the fort. It was now about four in the morning, and the wind, still blowing with all its fury, was causing the large waves to roll up against the beach, threatening to break the cables by which the barges were moored to the shore. Don Cornelio cast glances of fear upon that mighty ocean that, but a few hours before, had come so near engulfing him within its dark depths. While he sat with his face turned seaward, his eye fell upon the figure of a man who was passing from the spot where the groups were scattered downward to the beach. This man having approached the place where the barges were moored, for some moments appeared to be occupied with them, as if looking to their security. This was Don Cornelio's first impression on seeing the figure bending over the cables; but the moment after, the blade of a knife glancing in the man's fingers, was revealed by a flash of lightning; and this gave a sudden turn to the captain's thoughts. "What is he about to do?" inquired he of Costal, at the same time pointing out the individual so mysteriously occupied about the barges. "_Carrambo_! he is cutting the cables!" cried the Indian, springing to his feet, and rushing towards the boats, followed by Don Cornelio. On drawing nearer the beach, both recognised, under the pale reflection of the foaming waves, the Marshal himself--Don Hermenegildo Galeana! "Ah! Captain Lantejas, it is you!" cried the Marshal as they approached. "Good. I want you to lend me a hand here in cutting these hawsers: they are hard as iron chains." "Cut the hawsers!" echoed the astonished captain. "And what, General, if we are compelled to retreat before a superior force?" "That's just what I wish to provide against," replied Don Hermenegildo, laughing. "Some people fight but poorly when they know they may run away; and I wish our people to fight well." Don Cornelio saw it was no use to attempt remonstrance with the chivalric Galeana, and both he and Costal went to work to assist the Marshal in his daring design. "All right, comrades!" cried Don Hermenegildo, as soon as the three hawsers were parted; "it only remains for us to get the signal rockets out of the boats, and then let them go to sea of themselves."