Reed stopped. “Yes, what then?” cried Don Ramon eagerly. The skipper shrugged his shoulders. “What can we do, sir, with my schooner crowded up like this?”
“Fly,” said the Don, with his eyes flashing. “Of course; there is nothing else to be done. But if they have decent men to work that gun, one well-placed shot or shell will wreck my rigging, and we shall lie like a wounded bird upon the water.”
The Don looked fixedly in the skipper’s face for some moments before giving him a short nod and turning away to light his cigarette.
Chapter Thirty Four.
No Burgess aboard.
But the skipper’s forebodings were needless. As they sailed round the headland it was through a sea of golden light. There lay Velova with every window flashing in the late afternoon sunshine. Small coasting vessels were at anchor, boats were putting out to sea to reach the fishing-grounds; and, save that through the glass a few figures could be seen about the little fort with its flagstaff flying the national colours, and the rough earthworks could be made out mounting a few small guns, all was calm and peaceful.
“There, captain,” cried Don Ramon triumphantly, “what do you say now?”
“It is for you to speak, sir. What do you say now?”