The sailboat crept slowly out into the middle of the river, the breeze being so light that only a faint rippling was heard at the bow, and the craft hardly answered her helm. Major Starland had noted that the wind was not favorable, and he was compelled to tack toward the northern shore. He ran close in and was cheered by a freshening of the breeze which added perceptibly to the speed.
“At this rate,” said his sister, “we shall not reach Zalapata till tomorrow is well advanced.”
“It cannot matter, for there is no special need of haste.”
“Suppose, when General Yozarro returns, he pursues us?”
“It is not impossible; it will be easy for him to overhaul such a slow-sailing boat as this, but he dare not offer us harm. Are we not free born Americans, and will not our government be quick to punish such an offence?”
“You must not forget that the South American is an idiot, for, had he not been, he would not have dared to forbid my leaving the Castle.”
“Since a long sail is before us, why not let me adjust a couch for you to sleep?”
“Sleep! As if I could sleep at such a time as this! I had all I needed last evening when in prison.”
It will be remembered that Captain Guzman and Martella were seated at the bow, facing those at the stern. Thus the moonlit river beyond was in clear view, and the sombre, motionless form of the tugboat could be made out where it snuggled against the southern bank. The deserter was speaking in low tones to the Captain, when he uttered an exclamation which caused the officer to turn his gaze to the rear.