"You're right, sir. I understand now. But you know what we mean to do, don't you? Make the African coast and scatter. You can stand for that, can't you?"
"Not unless I have to. But you will not reach the coast. You will be hunted down and caught before then."
Jenkins' face clouded again. "And what part will you play if that comes?" he asked.
"No part, active or resistant, unless first released from parole. But if I ask for that release, it will be at a time when I am in greater danger than now, I promise you that."
"Very well, sir. Ask for it when you like." And Jenkins went forward.
The course to the southeast was resumed, but in half an hour two other specks on the southern horizon resolved into scout cruisers heading their way, and they turned to the east, still rushing at full speed.
They soon dropped the scouts, however, but were again driven to the north by a second battle-ship that shelled their vicinity for an hour before they got out of range.
It was somewhat discouraging; but, as darkness closed down, they once more headed their course, and all night they charged along at forty knots, with lights extinguished, but with every man's eyes searching the darkened horizon for other lights. They dodged a few, but daylight brought to view three cruisers ahead and to port that showed unmistakable hostility in the shape of screaming shells and solid shot.
Again they charged to the north, and it was mid-day before the cruisers were dropped. They were French, as all knew by their build.
Though there was no one navigating the boat, Denman, in view of future need of it, took upon himself the winding of the chronometers; and the days went on, Casey and Munson reporting messages sent from shore to ship; battle-ships, cruisers, scouts, and destroyers appearing and disappearing, and their craft racing around the Atlantic like a hunted fox.