“So swift!” he cried, “so swift!”
“Wind, wave, and tide,” I rejoined. “I’ve known a boat to make less speed under sail. Only trouble, with our present bearings, we’ll pile up on that outjutting point of the east coast.”
“Before that, Uraga,” he replied.
“According to chart, we’ll drift clear of the west coast, and there’ll be no guard-boats out of harbor to-night.”
“But the moonlight; they may sight us,” he insisted.
“A mile offshore, among these waves! Even if they had night-glasses, they could not tell the gig from a sampan, nor ourselves from storm-driven fishermen. You say the bay swarms with fishers.”
“Then there is now only the danger of delay from being cast up on the east shore.”
“A delay apt to prove permanent if we drift upon a lee shore in the surf that’s running to-night,” I added.
“I know you fear death as little as I do,” he said. “We are brothers in spirit. But that my message should be delayed or lost—the gods forbid!”
“We’re not yet on the rocks, Tomo. We’ve deep water and to spare for a while,” I cried, springing up to take our bearings as the moon was again gliding behind the clouds.