“She’s getting between us and the shore,” said Elias, uneasily; and very gradually he changed the direction of his bark. To his terror he saw the falúa make the same change, and heard a voice hailing him. He stopped and thought. The shore was yet some distance away; they would soon be within range of the ship’s guns. He thought he would go back to Pasig, his boat could escape the other in that direction; but fate was against him. Another boat was coming from Pasig, and in it glittered the helmets and bayonets of the Civil Guards.
“We are caught!” he said, and the color left his face. He looked at his sturdy arms, and took the only resolution possible; he began to row with all his might toward the island of Talim. The sun was coming up. The bark shot rapidly over the water; on the falúa, which changed its tack, Elias saw men signalling.
“Do you know how to manage a bark?” he demanded of Ibarra.
“Yes. Why?”
“Because we are lost unless I take to the water to throw them off the track. They will pursue me. I swim and dive well. That will turn them away from you, and you must try to save yourself.”
“No, stay, and let us sell our lives dear!”
“It is useless; we have no arms; they would shoot us down like birds.”
As he spoke, they heard a hiss in the water, followed by a report.
“You see!” said Elias, laying down his oar. “We will meet, Christmas night, at the tomb of your grandfather. Save yourself! God has drawn me out of greater perils than this!”
He took off his shirt; a ball picked it out of his hands, and two reports followed. Without showing alarm, he grasped the hand Ibarra stretched up from the bottom of the boat, then stood upright and leaped into the water, pushing off the little craft with his foot.