Carew, who had taken mental notes of the navigation when sailing up the Maas, refused the assistance of a pilot, and took his vessel safely down the rapid river, across the shoals that encumber the estuary, and out into the open sea. The weather was splendid, and the wind favoured him, as it blew freshly from the south-east.
Then Carew's pulse quickened; a wild exultation thrilled him, as the yacht, leaning well over to the steady wind, all her canvas set, rushed with pleasant sound through the smooth water. At that moment he felt happy, even proud of himself. He was safe at last, free from all anxiety. How Fortune had befriended him! That fatal superstition in luck that comes to the criminal and the gambler possessed him. Whom the gods wish to destroy they first make mad.
"Baptiste," he said, "I have heard it is a custom of Spain for the captain of a vessel, as soon as she is well outside the harbour, to call all hands aft and serve round grog, so that they can drink to the prosperity of the voyage. Fetch up some rum, and give each a glass."
The Frenchman obeyed the order. Carew was steering at the time, and the men stood round him, glasses in hand, awaiting the toast. Then the captain raised his glass in his disengaged hand, and called out in French—
"Comrades, here's to a prosperous voyage—to Buenos Ayres!"
When the men heard their destination they seemed dumb with surprise for a moment; then they raised a joyful shout. The prospect was evidently an agreeable one to them.
"To Buenos Ayres," said the Frenchman, bowing to Carew with a knowing smile, "the land where there is no extradition."