But it proved to be only a boy, and he hailed them and then disappeared. Clif knew that he had been sent there to guard the boat; it was more of the lieutenant's thoughtfulness.
The sight of that guarantee of safety revived Bessie Stuart's spirits considerably; her step grew quicker and in a few moments they reached the spot.
There were a pair of oars in the boat, which was a small one. Without a word, Clif set to work to put it off from the shore.
That was as hard a task as could have been given him; for great waves were rolling upon the beach. But Clif was an athlete and a sailor besides; and the realization of their danger nerved his arm.
He seated the girl in the bow and ran the boat out with a rush; he caught a favorable moment. He plunged on until the water was up to his waist, and then he leaped into the boat and seized the oars just as another great wave swept them in toward shore again.
But Clif pulled for his life and held his own; and when the current set out again, he breasted the line of breakers and reached the sea beyond.
Bessie Stuart sat perfectly motionless, grasping the gunwale, until she saw that they were safe. Then she gave a slight gasp and closed her eyes wearily.
Clif had but one object, and that was to get as far from the coast of Cuba as he could; every stroke that he rowed put him further away from that dreaded shore.
And he knew, though he could not see them then, that far out to sea lay the vessels of the blockading squadron. Once in sight of them and the anxious fugitives were safe.
And so Clif put every ounce of muscle he had into that task. Not a word more was spoken; but the man's lips were set in a desperate resolve and his broad back heaved as he fought his way on.