“Five-and-twenty miles, I should say. There is not much breeze, but that is all the better, for she will be slipping along now at least two knots to the Turks’ one, while in a strong breeze she would not go more than five to their four. It is five o’clock now, and though we can’t feel any wind here, I expect she is making five or six knots an hour. Anyhow she ought to be here between ten and twelve.”
A quarter of an hour later Baldock said: “May I take another squint from the look-out, sir?”
“Yes, but don’t stand there long, Baldock. I expect that fellow has moved off again if he was not hit by any of our shots. Still it is as well not to give him another chance.”
Baldock stood on the rock shading his eyes from the light of the western sun, which was now getting near the horizon. For a minute or two he stood uncertain, and then said:
“It is the schooner, sir, sure enough. I can just make out a black line below the sail; that must be her fore-top gallant-sail just showing.”
A cheer broke from the sailors lying along the shelter of the screen of bushes.
“That is good news, Baldock,” Martyn said. “Come down now; another half-hour will settle it anyhow, and there will be light enough till then.”
The next observation settled the question. It was certainly a square sail underneath the sharp peak of a gaff top-sail. The joy of the Greeks was extreme when they heard that the vessel that was to carry them away was in sight.
“The schooner will be in a nice mess,” Martyn grumbled to Tarleton. “With what there are on board now, and all these, there will be something like six hundred of them; a nice cargo that.”