Roderic kept his eyes fastened upon the stern of the steamer, for in this quarter would the pursuit be inaugurated, should one follow.
The shouts had ceased.
An ominous silence seemed to rest upon the scene.
All depended upon whether the wretched Jerome, upon being rescued from the bay, was in a state to disclose what he knew, and the readiness that bold Captain Shackelford would show in following up the clue thus given.
And as he looked, too soon he saw the boat shoot into view propelled by sturdy arms.
"Faster!" cried Beven at the same moment.
There were six pair of English arms against two, but the little yawl was light and trimly built, so the chances seemed pretty evenly divided.
Roderic surveyed the chase as calmly and critically as though it were a college regatta, with an ordinary loving cup as the stake instead of his own liberty, perhaps his life.
"Captain, we shall make it," he said, quietly.
"Undoubtedly," replied laconic Beven, whose practiced eye had also measured the distance yet to be traversed, and the slow if steady gain made by their pursuers.