By midnight all the fugitives were on board the Wehrt, from whose well-replenished store-rooms they immediately began transhipping the provisions to the Virgen del Socorro. All through the night and until 2 A.M. this work continued. The Virgen del Socorro was then towed out a little farther into the bay, and on the first signs of daylight appearing her bow was turned north-east. Soon afterwards a fresh early morning wind sprang up from the land, her sails filled, and she set off on her long voyage.
What happened to the Virgen del Socorro I will now relate, in accordance with details furnished by various members of her crew.
The little vessel had no sooner left Vigo and got out into the open than the land wind suddenly increased in strength and drove her into exceedingly rough and treacherous water. Some of the crew were for turning back, despite the risks that step would have entailed, and the matter was discussed at some length by Lieutenant Koch and the other leaders. They came to the conclusion, however, that they were "between the devil and the deep sea," and must keep on. It seems doubtful, indeed, whether, had they decided to make an attempt to get back to Vigo, they could have accomplished it.
That first day, and for many days afterwards, the Virgen del Socorro became a veritable plaything of the waves, which soon began to rise mountain-high. The sufferings of the crowded fugitives in this terrible weather were intense. All were drenched to the skin, and for more than three days and nights they had to remain in this miserable condition. To these tortures were added the craving for sleep and adequate nourishment, for, amidst the continual buffeting of the waves and wind, they could neither sleep nor get anything cooked. Under these conditions, it was not surprising that the twenty occupants of the Virgen del Socorro were finally reduced to the state of not caring what happened. One of the two sailors on board, on whose shoulders devolved much of the work of navigation, said that, "old seaman though he was, he had never before experienced such weather." He felt at times that "all his strength and hope were sapped," and hourly, during those terrible first six days, when the little schooner was tossed about like a cork, "expected death would relieve him of his tortures."
The storm then calmed down a little and gave the fugitives a respite. They were able to dry their drenched clothes and attend to the needs of the inner man. At the same time they could pay more attention to the question of their course. On this score they were soon to receive a shock, for there hove in sight a vessel that was undoubtedly a British patrol. For a couple of hours there were many anxious searchings of heart on board the Virgen del Socorro. Would she, thanks to her insignificance and the Dutch flag flying from her mast, be taken for an inoffensive fishing smack, and be allowed to go unchallenged? That had been part of their plan all through.
At one moment it looked as though the patrol was bearing down upon them at full speed; but when the dreaded vessel got no bigger, but instead gradually receded into the distance, the crew of the Virgen del Socorro realized that for the time being they were safe.
VII—FOILED BY A STORM—THE CAPTURE
Safe from the clutches of their human enemies, perhaps, but by no means safe from the angry sea. Had some of the crew been able to foresee what was in store for them, they would perhaps have welcomed the arrival of that British patrol with outspread arms and expressions of joy. Once more they were caught up in the embrace of a furious storm, and driven helplessly westward, expecting every moment to be their last.
On October 24th another brief calm set in, enabling the navigator to ascertain his position. The little vessel was found to be some distance west of Bantry, on the south coast of Ireland. Here the storm again increased in violence, and once more the ill-fated Virgen del Socorro seemed likely to founder. A consultation was held by Koch and the other leaders. They came to the conclusion that it would be madness to attempt to continue with the original plan. In such seas as were running, they would run the risk of being shipwrecked a hundred times before they got halfway round the British Isles. The only thing to be done, if they were to prevent the Virgen del Socorro from being smashed to matchwood on the British coast, was to keep as much as possible in the open sea and steer for the English channel, in hope of making the Belgian or Dutch coast unobserved.
Six more terrible days followed. By this time more than half the crew of the Virgen del Socorro were in a parlous condition. Their store of provisions had shrunk to such an extent that everybody had to be placed on rations, and the fresh water had dwindled so alarmingly that it was reserved for those who were actually on the point of collapse. Several of the crew, through the cold and constant seasickness, were utterly helpless.