All that night we worked like slaves. The launches could not come close inshore, so that every one and everything had to be transported to them on balsas. The colonel did not spare himself, and my position procured me the honour of standing beside him knee-deep in surf while he superintended the embarkation.
Most of the sick were got on board one or other of the four vessels, but the worst cases had to remain in hospital. Then nearly a hundred people of the town, who had recently joined the Patriot cause, clamoured for protection, which was, of course, afforded.
In the morning the colonel insisted I should take a rest, but the work continued all day, while from time to time scouts came in with the news that La Hera was advancing at full speed. At length it was all done; only the colonel and I remained to go on board, and we had just reached the launch, when, with a yell and thunder of hoofs, the Royalist cavalry galloped down to the beach.
"Just too late to take their passage," laughed Miller. "What a pity!"
"There's our late prisoner," I cried, standing up in the launch. "Look at the rascal; he is shaking his sword at us, and laughing."
"He's a fine fellow," remarked the colonel. "I don't grudge him his liberty."
Taking off my cap, I waved it vigorously; to which Santiago replied with a salute; and then, as pursuit was impossible, he led his men back into the town.