I had great confidence in Robbins, more than I felt in the oars he handled, which I feared were of the usual treacherous character habitual among those shiftless boatmen of Bolivar, and which might snap under his mighty strokes.
Still the crowd gathered, as though half of the city’s population had been drawn to the water side by this modest little affair of ours.
Never had the frail landing stage been put to such a severe test.
I trembled for the result, and my fears proved not without foundation, for suddenly there came a tremendous crash, a din of shouting and shrieking, not unmixed with laughter, for the tide was low and the water shallow, and then we knew Bolivar would be put to the expense of a new landing stage as one result of this wonderful “gringo hunt.”
Hildegarde was naturally alarmed at the tremendous commotion back of us, and feared that some scores of persons might be drowned; but I calmed her as best I could by explaining how very shallow the water was, and what amphibious creatures these people were.
Besides, we had troubles of our own, and in a case of this kind “every tub must stand on its own bottom.”
The rude boat was but a hollow mockery when it came to a question of speed—perhaps by some accident we had chanced upon the very poorest of the lot, but it could not be set down against Robbins, who at the time was compelled to accept what the gods gave him, and to be influenced more by the position of the various craft than anything else.
I had hoped we would hold our own, and thus lead the pursuers a merry dance up to the very side of the yacht.
It was not to be.
My ear was not finely educated in matters of this sort, but even I could tell that we were being steadily overhauled.