There was no chance for Clay to speak to Hope again, though he felt the cruelty of having to leave her with everything between them in this interrupted state.But their friends stood about her, interested and excited over this expedition of smuggled arms, unconscious of the great miracle that had come into his life and of his need to speak to and to touch the woman who had wrought it.Clay felt how much more binding than the laws of life are the little social conventions that must be observed at times, even though the heart is leaping with joy or racked with sorrow.He stood within a few feet of the woman he loved, wanting to cry out at her and to tell her all the wonderful things which he had learned were true for the first time that night, but he was forced instead to keep his eyes away from her face and to laugh and answer questions, and at the last to go away content with having held her hand for an instant, and to have heard her say ``good-luck.''
MacWilliams called Kirkland to the office at the other end of the Company's wire, and explained the situation to him.He was instructed to run an engine and freight-cars to a point a quarter of a mile north of the fort, and to wait there until he heard a locomotive whistle or pistol shots, when he was to run on to the fort as quickly and as noiselessly as possible.He was also directed to bring with him as many of the American workmen as he could trust to keep silent concerning the events of the evening.At ten o'clock MacWilliams had the steam up in a locomotive, and with his only passenger-car in the rear, ran it out of the yard and stopped the train at the point nearest the cars where ten of the `Vesta's' crew were waiting.The sailors had no idea as to where they were going, or what they were to do, but the fact that they had all been given arms filled them with satisfaction, and they huddled together at the bottom of the car smoking and whispering, and radiant with excitement and satisfaction.
The train progressed cautiously until it was within a half mile below the fort, when Clay stopped it, and, leaving two men on guard, stepped off the remaining distance on the ties, his little band following noiselessly behind him like a procession of ghosts in the moonlight.They halted and listened from time to time as they drew near the ruins, but there was no sound except the beating of the waves on the rocks and the rustling of the sea-breeze through the vines and creepers about them.
Clay motioned to the men to sit down, and, beckoning to MacWilliams, directed him to go on ahead and reconnoitre.
``If you fire we will come up,'' he said.``Get back here as soon as you can.''
``Aren't you going to make sure first that Kirkland is on the other side of the fort?'' MacWilliams whispered.
Clay replied that he was certain Kirkland had already arrived.
``He had a shorter run than ours, and he wired you he was ready to start when we were, didn't he?'' MacWilliams nodded.
``Well, then, he is there.I can count on Kirk.''
MacWilliams pulled at his heavy boots and hid them in the bushes, with his helmet over them to mark the spot.``I feel as though Iwas going to rob a bank,'' he chuckled, as he waved his hand and crept off into the underbrush.
For the first few moments the men who were left behind sat silent, but as the minutes wore on, and MacWilliams made no sign, they grew restless, and shifted their positions, and began to whisper together, until Clay shook his head at them, and there was silence again until one of them, in trying not to cough, almost strangled, and the others tittered and those nearest pummelled him on the back.
Clay pulled out his revolver, and after spinning the cylinder under his finger-nail, put it back in its holder again, and the men, taking this as an encouraging promise of immediate action, began to examine their weapons again for the twentieth time, and there was a chorus of short, muffled clicks as triggers were drawn back and cautiously lowered and levers shot into place and caught again.
One of the men farthest down the track raised his arm, and all turned and half rose as they saw MacWilliams coming toward them on a run, leaping noiselessly in his stocking feet from tie to tie.He dropped on his knees between Clay and Langham.
``The guns are there all right,'' he whispered, panting, ``and there are only three men guarding them.They are all sitting on the beach smoking.I hustled around the fort and came across the whole outfit in the second gallery.It looks like a row of coffins, ten coffins and about twenty little boxes and kegs.I'm sure that means they are coming for them to-night.They've not tried to hide them nor to cover them up.All we've got to do is to walk down on the guards and tell them to throw up their hands.
It's too easy.''
Clay jumped to his feet.``Come on,'' he said.
``Wait till I get my boots on first,'' begged MacWilliams.``Iwouldn't go over those cinders again in my bare feet for all the buried treasure in the Spanish Main.You can make all the noise you want; the waves will drown it.''
With MacWilliams to show them the way, the men scrambled up the outer wall of the fort and crossed the moss-covered ramparts at the run.Below them, on the sandy beach, were three men sitting around a driftwood fire that had sunk to a few hot ashes.Clay nodded to MacWilliams.``You and Ted can have them,'' he said.
``Go with him, Langham.''
The sailors levelled their rifles at the three lonely figures on the beach as the two boys slipped down the wall and fell on their hands and feet in the sand below, and then crawled up to within a few feet of where the men were sitting.
As MacWilliams raised his revolver one of the three, who was cooking something over the fire, raised his head and with a yell of warning flung himself toward his rifle.
``Up with your hands!'' MacWilliams shouted in Spanish, and Langham, running in, seized the nearest sentry by the neck and shoved his face down between his knees into the sand.
