while our ears could distinguish the sullen roar of breakers tumbling up on the sand just astern.  Overhead ropes rattled noisily, the sound mingling with the flapping ends of loosened sails beating against the yards.  LeVere shouted an order, and a sudden flare was lighted amidships, the circle of flame illumining a part of the deck, and spreading out over the wild expanse of water.  The seaman holding the blazing torch aloft, and thrusting it forth across the rail, took on the appearance of a black statue, as motionless as though carved from ebony, while in the gleam the various groups of men became visible, lined up along the port bulwarks, all staring in the one direction, eagerly seeking a first glimpse of the approaching craft.

Scarcely had a minute elapsed before it came sweeping into the radius of light—­at first a dim, spectral shadow, scarcely to be recognized; then, almost as suddenly, revealed in all its details—­a boat of size, flying toward us under a lug sail, standing out hard as a board, keeling well over, and topping the sea swells like a bird on wing.  ’Twas a beautiful sight as the craft came sweeping on before the full weight of the wind, out from that background of gloom into the yellow glare of the torch, circling widely so as to more safely approach the bark’s quarter.  LeVere called for men to stand by, the fellows rushing past me to their stations, but, in the fascination of the moment, I failed to move.  I could do nothing but stare out across the intervening water, with eyes fastened on that swiftly approaching boat.  I must see.  I must know the message it brought; what story it held of the tragedy.  At first I could only barely distinguish the figures of those aboard, yet these gradually assumed recognizable form, and finally the faces also became dimly visible.  Manuel held the tiller, with Estada seated beside him, leaning forward, and gesticulating with one hand, as he directed the course.  I had never seen these two, yet I knew them beyond a doubt.  Mendez and Anderson (at least I supposed these to be the two) were poised at the sail halliards, ready to let the straining sheet down at a run, while Cochose crouched low in the bow, his black hand uplifted, gripping a coil of rope.  Their faces were all turned forward, lighted by the flare from our deck, and I felt a shudder of fear run over me—­no expression on any countenance spoke of defeat; even the ugly features of the negro beamed with delight.

But was that all?  Was that all?  Surely not, yet the boat had to leap forward, and then turn broadside too, as it swept aft toward the main chains, before I succeeded in seeing what remained partially concealed between the thwarts in its bottom.  Forward of the single mast was stowed the chest, which Travers’ slaves had borne with such care up the bluff; while in the open space between the helmsman and the two sailors were stretched two motionless bodies.  LeVere, gripping a stay-rope, and leaning well out, hailed in Spanish.