ome on. Only the lamps of the
Beehive are lighted and a semi-obscurity reigns in the cavern.

I return to my cell. It is to my interest to keep out of the way as
much as possible, for Engineer Serko's suspicions might be revived now
that the squadron is approaching Back Cup.

But will the vessels sighted continue on their course in this
direction? May they not be merely passing on their way to Bermuda? For
an instant this doubt enters my mind. No, no, it cannot be! Besides, I
have just heard Captain Spade declare that they are lying to in view
of the island.

To what nation do they belong? Have the English, desirous of avenging
the destruction of the _Sword_, alone undertaken the expedition? May
not cruisers of other nations be with them? I know not, and it is
impossible to ascertain. And what does it matter, after all, so long
as this haunt is destroyed, even though I should perish in the ruins
like the heroic Lieutenant Davon and his brave crew?

Preparations for defence continue with coolness and method under
Engineer Serko's superintendence. These pirates are obviously certain
that they will be able to annihilate their assailants as soon as the
latter enter the dangerous zone. Their confidence in Roch's fulgurator
is absolute. Absorbed by the idea that these warship are powerless
against them, they think neither of the difficulties nor menaces held
out by the future.

I surmise that the trestles have been set up on the northwest coast
with the grooves turned to send the engines to the north, west, and
south. On the east, as already stated, the island is defended by the
chain of reefs that stretches away to the Bermudas.

About nine o'clock I venture out of my cell. They will pay little
attention to me, and perhaps I may escape notice in the obscurity. Ah!
if I could get through that passage and hide behind some rock, so that
I could witness what goes on at daybreak! And why should I not succeed
now that Ker Karraje, Engineer Serko, Captain Spade, and the pirates
have taken their posts outside?

The shores of the lake are deserted, but the entrance to the passage
is kept by Count d'Artigas' Malay. I saunter, without any fixed idea,
towards Thomas Roch's laboratory. This reminds me of my compatriot. I
am, on reflection, disposed to think that he knows nothing about the
presence of a squadron off Back Cup. Probably not until the last
moment will Engineer Serko apprise him of its proximity, not till he
brusquel