The Count d’Artigas and his companion wended their way to a creek where one of the Ebba’s boats awaited them.  The schooner was anchored two cable lengths from the shore, her sails neatly rolled upon her yards, which were squared as neatly as those of a pleasure yacht or of a man-of-war.  At the peak of the mainmast a narrow red pennant was gently swayed by the wind, which came in fitful puffs from the east.

The Count and the captain jumped into the boat and a few strokes of the four oars brought them alongside of the schooner.  They climbed on deck and going forward to the jib-boom, leaned over the starboard bulwark and gazed at an object that floated on the water a few strokes ahead of the vessel.  It was a small buoy that was rocked by the ripple of the ebbing tide.

Twilight gradually set in, and the outline of New-Berne on the left bank of the sinuous Neuse became more and more indistinct until it disappeared in the deepening shades of night.  A mist set in from the sea, but though it obscured the moon it brought no sign of rain.  The lights gleamed out one by one in the houses of the town.  The fishing smacks came slowly up the river to their anchorage, impelled by the oars of their crews which struck the water with sharp, rhythmical strokes, and with their sails distended on the chance of catching an occasional puff of the dropping wind to help them along.  A couple of steamers passed, sending up volumes of black smoke and myriads of sparks from their double stacks, and lashing the water into foam with their powerful paddles.

At eight o’clock the Count d’Artigas appeared on the schooner’s deck accompanied by a man about fifty years of age, to whom he remarked: 

“It is time to go, Serko.”

“Very well, I will tell Spade,” replied Serko.

At that moment the captain joined them.

“You had better get ready to go,” said the Count.

“All is ready.”

“Be careful to prevent any alarm being given, and arrange matters so that no one will for a minute suspect that Thomas Roch and his keeper have been brought on board the Ebba.”

“They wouldn’t find them if they came to look for them,” observed Serko, shrugging his shoulders and laughing heartily as though he had perpetrated a huge joke.

“Nevertheless, it is better not to arouse their suspicion,” said d’Artigas.

The boat was lowered, and Captain Spade and five sailors took their places in it.  Four of the latter got out the oars.  The boatswain, Effrondat, who was to remain in charge of the boat, went to the stern beside Captain Spade and took the tiller.

“Good luck, Spade,” said Serko with a smile, “and don’t make more noise about it than if you were a gallant carrying off his lady-love.”

“I won’t—­unless that Gaydon chap—­”

“We must have both Roch and Gaydon,” insisted the Count d’Artigas.

“That is understood,” replied Spade.