“No; but he will take vengeance upon Martella, who has served us so faithfully.”
“Great heavens! I never thought of that; and he will be as merciless with Captain Guzman for having helped Martella.”
“And with you for crossing his path.”
“With me! I long for a meeting with him; but, Captain,” added the American, raising his voice; “it will not do for you and Martella to be on board when General Yozarro overtakes us.”
“I think you are right,” replied the Captain; “the General and I have never loved each other, and even General Bambos would not object strongly if it is proposed to shoot me for aiding an Atlamalcan to desert from his navy.”
Martella said nothing, but no one understood the situation better than he.
“I will head the boat for the southern shore, where you two can look out for yourselves.”
“I am afraid you will not have the time to reach it.”
“It must be done!”
The American had pushed the tiller sharply round, and the boat was speeding diagonally for the bank. The change of course gave her a fairer wind, but the tug was coming up so fast that it looked as if she must head off the fugitives. Full steam had been put on, and our affrighted friends, when they looked back, saw the tumbling foam at the bow, the spreading wake streaming fanlike to the rear, and the dark figures crowding forward, amid whom it was easy to believe they discerned the form of General Yozarro cursing the engineer for not attaining better speed.