It is not a difficult task to find a boat at Cadiz, and Michael had only to choose; comprehending that the Count was in a hurry, he selected one pulled by ten oars.
The Count arrived at the same moment.
"Twenty louis for you and your crew if you are at Puerto in twenty minutes," he shouted, as he leaped into the boat, which was almost capsized by the violence of the shock.
The boat started, the sailors bent over their oars, and made her fly through the water.
The captain with his eyes obstinately fixed on Santa Maria, and striking his clenched fist on the boat's gunwale, in spite of the excessive speed at which it was going, incessantly repeated in a choking voice—
"Quicker, quicker, muchachos."
He passed like an arrow across the bows of the frigate, whose crew were preparing to weigh anchor. At length they reached Puerto.
"No one is to follow me," the captain cried, as he leaped ashore.
But Michael did not heed this order, and at the risk of what might happen to him, he set out in pursuit of the Count, whom he would not abandon in his present frightful condition.
It was fortunate he did so, for when he reached the house Doña Clara had inhabited, he saw the young man lying senseless on the ground.