“At once. I’ve got my full cargo on board, and I was only waiting for daylight to start. It’s not far off that now. But, shiver my timbers, if there don’t come the rascals you thought you had slipped!”
He pointed up the river, and I saw a longboat approaching swiftly. It was still a good distance off, but there was not a moment to lose, and the skipper was aware of the fact. He hastily roused the crew, and I never saw a more pleasing sight than that hardy lot of men as they set to work to unfurl the sails and get the vessel under way.
Miss Hatherton stood with me at the bulwark, holding to my arm, and asking me what I thought of the situation. I hardly knew how to answer her, for there was no telling as yet what was going to happen. A stiff breeze was blowing ready for the canvas, and when the anchor was lifted we began to drift. But meanwhile the boat had come up close, and with evident determination to board us. It held ten men, and they were mostly at the oars.
“Sheer off, there!” cried the skipper. “What do you want?”
“You are sheltering fugitives from the law,” a harsh voice replied. “Give them up. It’s a case of murder!”
The skipper refused in plain terms, and catching a sudden gleam of steel, he shouted savagely:
“If you come any nearer or fire a single shot I’ll give you a volley of ten guns!”
By this time the ship was under way and moving with full canvas spread. The pursuing boat fell back, its occupants yelling curses and threats; and so the danger passed. The Speedwell bore swiftly on, leaving a foamy wake dancing on the bosom of the St. Lawrence, and in my delight I felt tempted to throw my arms about Miss Hatherton. Captain Rudstone joined us, and with thankful hearts we watched the lights of Quebec fading in the distance.