So silently that they had been unaware of her approach, the strange craft had stolen in like a phantom ship to within two hundred yards of where they lay concealed. She now lay directly in the moon's path and its rays so bright set out every rope and sail in dark relief. Not a light shone aboard. Her captain had evidently been made wary by his former alarm and was taking all possible chances against drawing the attention of others.

As silent as a ghost ship the graceful craft crept in to within a cable's length of the beach. Then, with a faint creak of traveling blocks she rounded gracefully up into the wind and a muffled splash told that her anchor had been dropped.

She made a beautiful sight laying, swan-like, full in the glowing pathway of the moon, her great white sails quivering in the gentle breeze.

"The bird is ready to flit away at the first alarm," whispered the captain. "See, he has got his anchor hove short and has taken in none of his sails but the jib. He could get under way again in half a minute. He's wary all right."

"We had better not talk any more," cautioned Charley in a whisper. "Sound carries a long ways over the water and the launch is nearly here."

With nerves at highest tension the little party waited.

The loud throbbing of the launch's engine suddenly ceased. There came a splash from a dropped anchor, and more splashing as its crew waded ashore. Then came a murmuring of voices and the sound of footsteps, and the watchers drew further back into their hiding place as four figures came into view. They passed so close to the bunch of palms that their features were plain to the hiders. One was Hunter, himself, the other three they recognized as members of his gang.

The four hurried down to the water's edge.

"Ahoy," Hunter hailed the schooner. "It's all right. Come ashore."

"Are you sure no one else is around?" cautiously inquired a voice from the schooner.

The response had been in perfect English but something in the tones and the faint foreign accent made the chums stare at each other as though they had heard a voice from the grave.

"No, there's no one here but ourselves," Hunter replied, impatiently. "Do you think I would be here if everything wasn't all right? Come, get a move on you, and hustle that stuff ashore. There's a lot to do, and it ain't many hours till daylight."

Those on the schooner fell to work with feverish haste. A small dingy carried on deck was launched over the side. Two figures leaped into it and received the cases, two others brought up from the hold.

As soon as the dingy was loaded, the two on deck scrambled aboard and one sculled her into shore.

The moment she grounded, the captain leaped ashore. "Here is part of our goods," he said smoothly. "We can bring it all in in three more trips."

"Good," Hunter growled. "Come, unload it. What are you waiting for?"

"Only for our money, kind sir," said the schooner's captain, in smooth, suave tones which stirred in the chums old, cruel memories. "I think it would be best for each boat-load to be paid for as it is brought in."

"Don't be a fool, man," said Hunter, roughly. "We can settle up when the job is done. We have got no time to waste, now."

"Pay before unloading," insisted the captain of the schooner, politely. "Gentlemen in our business cannot be too careful. Of course I know you are the soul of honesty, but you are forgetful, my good friend. You have never remembered to pay me for that last lot I brought you."

"How many cases?" Hunter demanded, with an oath, as he pulled out a greasy roll of bills.

"Twenty cases, one hundred dollars," said the stranger.

Hunter counted out the bills, and the schooner captain recounted them carefully and thrust them into his pocket.

"You are still forgetting that little bank account of a hundred dollars," he remarked, pleasantly. "Surely, now is a splendid time to settle it."

Hunter's face grew livid with anger, but he controlled his temper with an effort. He was quick to realize that he could only lose by a display of anger. The man already had a hundred dollars of his money, and still remained in possession of the liquor.

The chums in their concealment chuckled inwardly at his plight. At last the rascally fisherman had met his equal in cunning.

Grudgingly, he counted out another hundred dollars which the smuggler pocketed with a mocking bow of thanks.

"It's a pleasure to do business with a spot-cash gentleman like you," he declared. "Now, you may have your liquor, and there's three more boat-loads, just as good, at a hundred dollars a load."

"You'll have to help us carry it up to the cache," Hunter growled. "There's too much of it for us four to get out of the way before daylight."

"Always glad to oblige such a pleasant gentleman," said the smuggler, swinging a case up on his shoulder. "Many hands make light work." His companions silently followed his example, each shouldering a case and the fishermen similarly loaded fell in behind them.

Hunter and one of his gang brought up the rear. As they came alongside the clump of palmettoes, Hunter nudged the man ahead.

"Drop behind a bit," he said, softly.

The man slowed his walk.

"That fellow's got too much of our money to get away with it," he declared in tones too low to reach those ahead.

The man nodded. "We've got to take it from him," he agreed.

"We'd better wait until all the stuff is landed," planned Hunter. "We'll jump him just as he gets ready to leave and make him shell out. He can't make any trouble about it. He dasn't make any kick to the authorities. Tell the rest of the boys when you get a chance."

The whispered conference had taken less than a minute but the alert smuggler glanced suspiciously back at the two plotters and they quickened their steps.

"Our work is half done for us if they are going to fight amongst themselves," exulted Charley, as the procession passed out of hearing. "We had better wait till the trouble starts and then come down on them."

"Did you notice that smuggler captain's voice?" asked Captain Westfield, eagerly.

Walter's eyes were gleaming. "It's Manuel George, the Greek interpreter," he exclaimed, softly. "The rascal that caused us so much misery and stole our schooner from us."

"And that's our dear old 'Beauty' lying out there," declared Charley, a thrill in his voice. "We have got to take her, if we risk our lives doing it. But here they come back again."

The smugglers were losing no time but working with all possible rapidity. The first dingy load was quickly transferred to its hiding place and a second load brought ashore, the smuggler captain insisting on his pay before a case was unloaded, a third load quickly followed the second, and just as the morning star began to show in the east, the fourth and last load was brought ashore.

To the hidden watchers it seemed a century of waiting. With the coming of the last load, the tension became almost unbearable. A few minutes now would decide whether or not they were to recover their dearly loved ship which they had long since given up as lost, to them, forever.

The fisherman and smuggler captain seemed to be in excellent spirits as the work progressed. They laughed and joked with each other, but it seemed to Charley, keenly observant, that their gaiety was forced. He imagined a sinister note under their high spirits and the watchful, alert smuggler captain, for all his affected friendliness, seemed to be watching every movement of the fishermen. All were working at top speed now to complete the unloading before day, and the pile of cases in the dingy rapidly diminished.

As the carriers passed back and forth to and from the new cache they were making, there would be a few minutes each trip when they were far enough away from the concealed ones for the little party to hold low, whispered conversation.

"We want to act all together," Charley said, during one of these intervals. "When I say, 'Now', we will cover them with our rifles and step out upon them. I am going to wait till the last minute to give the word. If they have a mix-up and get to fighting among themselves, it will make our job doubly easy."

As the procession passed by on its last trip, the lad chuckled softly.

"That Hunter is certainly one clever rascal," he whispered. "Did you notice he and his men head the procession this trip for the first time?"

"I don't see the advantage in that," Walter remarked.

"Don't you? Why, they will be the first to unload and consequently the first to turn back. That will put them between the Greeks and the dingy. Something is going to happen pretty quick. Be ready. Here they come back."

Empty-handed, the eight were returning to the beach chatting gaily together. As Charley had prophesied, Hunter and his three companions were well in the lead. At the dingy bow, the four turned and gathered close together.

The Greek captain was quick to notice the move. A few words in Greek brought his men crowding around him. If he felt any fear, however, it did not show in his face or manner.

"Our agreeable business is pleasantly ended, gentlemen," he said, smoothly. "When will you want more of the liquor, Mr. Hunter?"

"Won't want any more," Hunter growled, surlily. "The game's too risky. There's too many getting on to it. It's time to quit."

"Very well," said the smuggler, coolly. "Now, we must bid you good-by, gentlemen, and be on our way."

"You Greek fool," Hunter snarled. "Do you think you are going to leave here with all that money? Hand it over, quick!"

"Out of the way!" cried the Greek captain, as he leaped forward, followed by his men.

In a second smugglers and fishermen were mingled together in a fierce struggle.

"Now," called Charley, clearly, and his companions stepped forth with leveled rifles.

"Hands up—all of you," he shouted.

The fighting instantly ceased and the surprised combatants turned to face the new enemy.

Then came an interruption that struck both parties with fear and dismay.

From the gulf rose a huge, bat-like thing which swept down upon them with a whirling, sucking mumble.

"De haunts," shrieked Chris, and fled as fast as his shaking legs would carry him.