She followed the direction of his arm and saw, stealing out from the Hafen of Romanshorn, over their starboard bow, another steamer of about the same size as their pursuer.
There was no time to spare if Rowland's argument with Herr Hochwald was to be concluded before the interesting conflict of these new forces. Another distant boom and another geyser of water shot into the air, a hundred feet nearer.
"Can you sail a boat, Zoya?" he asked of her.
"No--but I'm willing to try," she said with a strange smile.
Rowland brought the Elsa up into the wind and held her there until the boat of Herr Hochwald drew up on even terms, then he eased up the helm and steered a course that would bring the two boats together in a few moments. He saw Hochwald, who had by this time thrown off his monk's robe, rise in the stern of the other boat and scrutinize him eagerly, his sail meanwhile flapping uncertainly. But the Elsa bore down on him like an avenging angel until only a few yards of water separated the two boats. By this time Hochwald who had guessed that the actions of the Elsa boded him no good had put his helm up to run for it. But Rowland, his cap pulled well down over his eyes, maneuvered skillfully, and brought the Elsa alongside, and there they rushed for a second or so, crashing together, the foam dashing over them, the white water flashing between.
"Quick, Zoya," cried Rowland. "Hold her--as she is----"
And leaving the helm he dashed forward seizing the Elsa's bow-line, leaped into the air landing safely and took a quick turn of the painter around the mast of Hochwald's boat.
Hochwald had recognized him now and began firing as Rowland saw Tanya rise from the bottom of the boat where she had been lying.
"Keep down, Tanya," he cried triumphantly in the voice that she knew so well. "It's I--Philippe."
