It would not be a walk over, for pursuit had been inaugurated, and the shouts of the angry soldiery rang down the narrow street.
The embarkation was speedily accomplished—indeed, almost like magic they found themselves in the boat, the sailors sprang after, oars were unshipped and the shore left behind.
What a pæan of thanksgiving seemed to arise in Owen's heart when he saw the long prayed for consummation of their hopes accomplished—as the shore receded, each stroke of the oars appeared like a measure in the glad anthem that swelled upward from his very soul.
For success meant to him more than life—he had fought for love, and Paradise opened wide her doors.
Then he cast an anxious look above—oh, pale moon, sailing so serenely athwart the heavens, show yet again your sympathy and gentle mercy by veiling that bright face behind some friendly cloud—it were worth a king's ransom to have this occur, but it was vouchsafed them without money and without price.
The moon dipped out of sight behind a black, ragged mass of clouds, and the bay of San Juan was for the time being wrapped in semi-gloom. Even Providence seemed on their side.
When the Spanish soldiers reached the water's edge they fired at random, but none of the missiles came anywhere near them in the boat.
Faster rowed the British tars, knowing full well that boats must already have put out in pursuit, and delay meant trouble.
Roderic cast many an anxious glance up toward that section of the heavens where moon and cloud were having a royal warfare, and he was delighted to discover that the former would evidently be discounted in the battle—at least the reign of the cloud would last until they had reached the Dreadnaught and were sheltered by her bulk from searching eyes.