It is quite probable that General Yozarro felt himself unequal to the situation, for he said nothing more. He could plainly be seen standing out in front of his friends, who, he noted, were busy at something. They were hoisting the sail of the catboat and the whole party scrambled aboard, as it was shoved from shore. Their weight sank the craft low, but it buoyed them safely, and the smaller craft began its pursuit of the larger one, somewhat after the manner of a handcar chasing a locomotive.
As before, there was no comparison in their speed, despite the fact that the tug had slowed down considerably. Major Starland ordered the Captain to hold their relative position. His contempt for the ruffian Dictator was so deep that he could not forbear exulting over him.
The men in the fire room knew that they had no choice except to obey the orders sent down to them. No responsibility could attach to them, and the American would visit fearful punishment upon any disobedience or treachery.
Guzman and Martella came to the upper deck, where Major Starland was holding converse with Captain Ortega.
“I wish,” said the Major, speaking too low for the Captain to hear him, “you would find out how many are in the boat yonder. I make it six.”
The three gave several minutes to scrutiny and agreed there were seven, which was more than had been supposed.
“And all are heavily armed, some with pistols and some with swords; if they should come alongside, they could give us a pretty fight.”
Captain Guzman took it upon himself to say:
“General Yozarro and Captain Sepulveda—if he is there—are the biggest cowards in the Atlamalcan army, but the others are fighters. I know three of them who are worse than tiger cats. They are eager for a chance to attack us.”