a
and its first capital, where Columbus, Narvaez, Cortes and others of the
great characters of history, played their first parts in the New World.

Under the shadow of Anvil Mountain, the motor boat ran up to a little
wharf, almost completely hidden in greenery, and there Cecil and the boy
landed. Stuart did not fail to observe that the motor boat engineer
needed no directions as to the place of landing. Evidently this cove was
familiar.

On going ashore, without a word of explanation to the boy, Cecil led the
way to a small hut, not far from the beach. When, in response to a
knock, the door opened, he said, in Spanish:

"Ignacio, this American boy is going to Havana. You will see that he
does not get lost on the way!"

"Si, Senor," was the only reply, the fisherman--for so he
appeared--evincing no surprise at the sudden appearance of Cecil at his
door, nor at his abrupt command. This absence of surprise or question
was the strongest possible proof of the extent of the Englishman's
power, and Stuart found himself wondering to what extent this
conspirator's web extended over the West Indies.

A phrase or two, when they were walking together through the jungle,
after the parachute descent, had shown Stuart that the Englishman was
especially well acquainted with the flora and fauna of Jamaica. He must
possess powerful friends in Haiti, or he could never have reached the
Citadel, to arrive at which point both Manuel and Leborge had been
compelled to employ tortuous methods, even to disguise. The motor boat
awaiting him in the Haitian jungle showed an uncanny knowledge of that
locality. He had mentioned that he knew the Isle of Tortugas. He was
evidently known on the Cuban coast. This plot, whatever it might be, was
assuredly of far-reaching importance, if one of the plotters found it
necessary to weave a web that embraced all the nearby islands.

"I'm glad I didn't promise not to tell about it," muttered the boy, as
he watched Cecil stride away without even a word of farewell, "for I
miss my guess if there isn't something brewing to make trouble for the
United States."

CHAPTER VI

A CUBAN REBEL

Stuart stood with the supposed fisherman at the door of the hut until
the throbbing of the motor boat's engine had died away in the distance.
Then, American fashion, he turned to the brown-skinned occupant with an
air of authority.

"Who is this man Cecil?" he asked. The phrase began boldly, but as he
caught t