isty," said the steward.

"There was no great difficulty in handling such a matter when one knew
all about the plot as I did. The fault on the other side was that they
did not examine the cabin of the Florence before they discussed their
plans in the standing-room," replied Christy, as he unfastened his
horse, and sprang upon his back. "I have no time to spare now."

"There is nothing more to be done here, I believe," added Mr. Watts.

"Not a thing. You can ride back to the place where the Roman candles
are planted, and you need not hurry about it, for the Vampire don't
make more than four miles an hour. Now be particular to carry out my
instructions to the letter, Mr. Watts; and you can see that a great deal
depends upon which signal you may have occasion to give," added the
midshipman.

"I understand what I am to do perfectly, and I will do my duty
faithfully, you may be sure," replied the steward, as he mounted
his horse.

Christy did not wait for him, but put his steed into a dead run on
the moment. The road was only a cart-path, and it was so soft that the
horse's hoofs made no noise to betray his movements to the enemy. He
urged the willing beast to his utmost speed, for he was as much at home
in the saddle as he was in the rigging of a ship. Before the Vampire had
made another eighth of a mile, he had reached the place where the boat
had been left for his use. What to do with his horse was a question, for
the report of the big gun would set him crazy. But he knew that the men
must be at the house, and he turned the animal loose, satisfied that he
would go to the stable without any guidance.

Springing into the boat, he pulled to the Bellevite. At the
accommodation steps, he was challenged by Sampson, who demanded like
one in authority who and what he was, for the experience of the evening
had greatly sharpened his wits.

"Who is it?" he demanded, in a tone which implied his intention to have
a satisfactory answer. "Advance and give the word."

"Give the word!" exclaimed Christy. "I have no word to give."

"Then you can't come on board," replied Sampson dogmatically.

"I am Christy Passford, and I have not heard about any word," protested
the midshipman.

"You can't pour molasses down my back again," replied Sampson, with a
self-satisfied air.

"Don't be a fool, Sampson," added Christy, as he climbed upon the steps,
the lower part of which had been hoisted up.

"I have been a fool once, and I don't