"Steady, boys, do your level best," he added, and the sturdy tars grunted as they strained at the oars until the veins stood out like whip cords on their brows.
Meanwhile from the pursuing craft came a variety of oaths and exclamations characteristic of the bold adventurer Shackelford, and by means of which he doubtless expected to secure better work from his toiling men; while Jerome, having recovered his tongue, and boiling over with rage, joined his shrill voice to that of the captain, promising fabulous rewards—which he would doubtless pay in notes if called upon—should they overhaul the will-o'-the-wisp boat that tauntingly kept just so far ahead.
It was quite exciting while it lasted.
This romantic harbor in the peaceful Azores had seldom known a more remarkable scene.
Pity it was the darkness robbed those who might have enjoyed the spectacle, of such a rare sight.
The steam yacht was now close at hand and while those who pursued still kept up their mad pace it must have been painfully evident to them that the chase was hopeless.
Perhaps the daring spirit who led them on had desperate designs of boarding the yacht and dragging away the object of their vindictive spleen.
Captain Beven was holding the tiller ropes and under his skillful guidance the yawl turned the yacht's stern, coming up alongside.
Instantly a hand clutched the painter.