"It may seem unwise," he said to himself over and over again, "but it is a necessary act, I am sure. Besides, if we could cripple one of the brigantines only it would be something gained, even at the cost of thousands of lives. And, if the wind is really coming steadily, they would be after us if we retired, and would treat us just as badly as they can do now. No. Attack is the only thing for us, and we will see it through."
By now the two fleets were rapidly approaching one another—the Spaniards moving slowly through the water, with their sails only half filled, while the Mexican fleet advanced at a swifter pace, propelled by paddles. Those who were free to do so answered the cannon-shots with shouts and shrill whistles, while every canoe showed a number of dusky figures brandishing their arms. Occasionally a shot would strike one of the tiny craft, and she would sink at once, the occupants swimming away to others, or turning their heads toward the city. Roger hardly noticed these, however. His eye was fixed upon the large brigantine, which he was determined to capture. And those aboard her evidently saw his object, for they trained a gun upon him and took careful aim.
"'Tis the dog of a white giant," said the gunner who trained the piece. "Stand back, while I blow him to atoms!"
He waved his comrades to one side and squinted along the sight. Then he raised his head and peered over the side.
"The breeze comes stronger," he said with a husky laugh, "and maybe the gun will not be required. But I will try. I would give a gold doubloon to be able to strike the head from that fellow."
Once more his eye went to the piece, and he adjusted the aim minutely. Then he touched the vent with his port-fire and sprang away. There was a roar, a spout of smoke and flame flew from the brigantine's side, and a shot hummed over the craft in which Roger stood.
"A close ball," he remarked with a laugh. "The Spaniards have singled us out and hope to sink us. But we shall be there before they can repeat the attempt. Warn the men to be ready."
Teotlili did as he was asked, and then stood beside his friend, both watching the gunner aboard the brigantine. By now they were much closer, and it was possible to make out his figure distinctly, and even to see his features.
"A face which I have good cause to know," exclaimed Roger, suddenly, staring at the enemy. "That is Alvarez, the traitor who stole the golden sign and afterwards nearly stabbed me to death. There is added reason for capturing that vessel. Urge the rowers on, Teotlili. Time is of the utmost importance."
Time was, in fact, of more than the utmost importance. Every minute brought added freshness to the wind, and the brigantines, which a little while before had lain there rolling lazily, were now running free, and churning up a salt wave at their bows. It became no longer a race, for the Spaniards now bore down upon the fleet of Mexican canoes; but it was simply a question of where the combatants would meet, and whether the canoes would be able to grapple with the enemy.