As he spoke he seized young Miguel by the breast. But he had not reckoned on that young minister’s mettle, nor on the hardness of that good Scottish fist of his. It fell like a hammer, straight from the shoulder, and took effect between Winkey’s eyes. The fellow went down like a shot, and lay there stunned and insensible.
Then Miguel sprang into the boat, and away she dashed.
There was no wind, but steam was already up, and soon the yacht was moving fast away in a south-westerly direction from the shores of the beautiful island.
This was not our course, but from the gradually-increasing mob on the beach, we knew we should be chased.
CHAPTER X.
AN ANXIOUS TIME—THE CHASE AND BATTLE—HOW ALL ENDED.
“‘Now haste, my men, and launch the boat,
Our pursuers are at hand;
Once on our bark we’ll safety have,
But there’s danger on the land.’”
“A wet sheet and a flowing sea,
A wind that follows fast,
And fills the white and rustling sail,
And bends the gallant mast.”
NOW, having been granted leave by the proprietors of the land to excavate and to carry away curios, we knew well that no state would give permission to any swift yacht to follow and capture us; still we well knew what enterprising men there are in the Southern states, and how quickly a vessel of exceeding swiftness could be hired for any private adventure.
I for one, therefore, was not a bit surprised next morning at sunrise when told by Miguel that a small, wicked-looking, black steamer was bearing down on us, and coming up with us indeed, hand over hand.