No opposition was made to their landing, and Desmond and Needham easily found their way to the British consulate. For some reason the consul had not returned, and their friend, the vice-consul, said that he had used every effort to obtain the liberation of the prisoners, but in vain. He was evidently in a great state of alarm, and confessed that he feared the worst. He had, however, been assured that the young lady and the two midshipmen should be properly treated, although the authorities were very angry at hearing of the escape of Desmond and his companion, and he advised them to get back to the boat as fast as possible, feeling assured that if recognised they would be recaptured.
“The fellows had better not attempt it with the English flag over their heads,” exclaimed Higson; “however, we will get back and make our report to our commander. If you can manage the matter, and let them know that we are in earnest, he may possibly draw in his horns.”
The vice-consul shrugged his shoulders, and Higson and his party got back to the boat and pulled out as fast as the crew could bend to their oars towards the Supplejack. Higson was anxious to be on board, for he was very sure that no time was to be lost.
Murray, on hearing his report, was not long in determining what to do.
“We must go in and insist on the liberation of our friends,” he said. “I’m sure, my lads, you’ll stand by me.”
A cheer from the crew showed that they were in the right spirit to dare and do anything that he might require. The head-yards were braced round, the helm put up, and the brig stood boldly into the harbour. Murray intended to pass the corvette, and bring up as near the town as the water would allow.
The corvette in the meantime had got a spring on her cable, her ports were open and her guns run out.
The little Supplejack stood on, nothing daunted.
“I don’t think that Don Whiskerandos will dare to stop us, though he boasted so much when we were on board,” observed Desmond to Higson.
“You’re mistaken, my boy.”