"If I don't take her out to-night we shall have to run the gauntlet in a hail of solid shot. It will not be long before they will suspect that something has happened to that boat. By daybreak the Belair will move in. Our only chance is to get out under cover of darkness. She is well within range now, but we can get clear of the inlet with a bit of speed on before she discovers us, and if we've got to fight I prefer the open sea."
"Very well, sir. Shall I heave the anchors?" asked Suarez.
"You can't heave the anchors until you get up steam, man."
"I told you we were ready for sea, sir," said Suarez, in a reproachful tone. "The Mariella is always at your command."
Fifteen minutes later O'Connor stood in the pilot house with his hand on the wheel. He looked back for a moment at the two sentinel palms and then he rang the bell for full speed ahead.
The engines throbbed, the screws churned the still water of the lagoon into a white froth and the Mariella, with rapidly increasing speed, poked her nose into the green foliage that barred her passage to the sea. Branches and vines scraped along her sides for a moment and then, released from their impeding embrace, she forged ahead with a tremble and start into the open sea. The red portlight of the waiting gunboat gleamed in the darkness a few points off her port bow. O'Connor swung her head around until the light was off the Mariella's quarter. Then he turned the wheel over to the steersman who stood beside him.
"Keep her steady, now," he said, as he left the pilot house and returned to the bridge, where Suarez stood with his glasses trained on the red light.
"No sign of movement, yet, sir," he said.
"You have no lights burning?"
"Not a light aboard, sir, except in the binnacle."