neither a
buccaneer, pirate, nor privateer, but an humble Cuban sympathizer who
takes his life in his hand now and then to bring arms and ammunition to
the men who are fighting for the good cause of Cuba libre. I do this,
first, because I love Cuba; second, because it is a very lucrative
profession; third, because I like danger."

"But, Captain Dynamite, why should an Irishman love Cuba?" asked Harry.

"Sure, I'm only half Irish. My mother was a Cuban and I was born on the
island on my father's little sugar plantation. The Spaniards shut him up
as an insurgent. He died in jail--tortured to death I shall always
believe--and my mother died of a broken heart in the arms of my
childhood sweetheart, Juanita. I was not there. I left the island when
only a youngster, to shift for myself in the States. I took to the sea
and I shall always be thankful that I did, for it has enabled me in some
measure to avenge the death of my father. But now to your own affairs,
my boys. After we have safely disposed of our cargo, I shall be free to
make a straight run for the States, and as I shall have others aboard
for whose safety I shall be responsible, I think probably you had better
stick to the old _Mariella_. I did think of getting you onto the
railroad to Havana, but your lack of passports might cause you
trouble."

"We'll stick by the _Mariella_, captain," said Harry. "What do you say,
fellows?"

"Sure, the _Mariella_ for us."

"All right, that's settled. I think it's about time to run to cover."

As they stepped out on deck the tropical twilight was fading and the
steamer was now close within the dark shadow of the shore. Captain
Dynamite went forward to the bridge.

"Turn in, Suarez. It has been a long day for you. I will take her now."

The mate saluted and left the bridge. The captain entered the wheelhouse
and the man relinquished the spokes and stood silently to one side. The
captain swung the wheel over quickly, with a sure, firm hand, and the
bow of the _Mariella_ came around until she was headed directly for the
wooded shore. Harry saw him raise his eyes and look once at the sentinel
palms.

Then the engine-room bell clanged loudly and the _Mariella_ shot at full
speed, head on for the shore.

CHAPTER IX

THE MIDNIGHT MESSAGE

Harry clutched the rail involuntarily. It seemed as if at any moment
they would strike the shore with a crash, and yet he could not but
believe that the captain knew what he w