The fleeing launch was now in plain sight, but the landing at Mariel was but a half mile away. He did not dare open fire on her. Would he dare attempt to cut her out under the eyes of the insurgents waiting their expected guns?
“Launch ahoy!” Phil hailed in Spanish.
Silence.
He hailed again and added: “I want to speak to you!”
From outward appearances, there was no one on the launch, but black smoke poured from her funnel and her white wake showed she was making a final spurt.
The bow of the “Vidette” was now inside and abreast of the launch’s quarter. It slowly moved forward. There was scarce ten feet of open water between the two boats.
With weapons in hand Phil and his men waited.
“Put her alongside,” Phil ordered, striving to control the nervousness in his voice.
The two launches came together, with scarcely a jar, and steamed along as one boat.
No one moved on the prize.