CHAPTER XII.
THE LAST RESORT.
The native boatmen made a rush at the last instant, encouraged by the near proximity of their fellows; but they missed me by ten feet.
I landed in the stern of the boat, just where Robbins had intended I should.
He already had the oars in his hands, having severed the painter with his knife, and instantly bent his broad back with a swoop that might have done credit to a champion sculler getting away from the starting line.
We moved—open water appeared between the boat and the landing stage. Thank Heaven! we were off!
It was too early to crow; there were other boats, and some of those fellows could row even as well as the muscular mate.
Still, we had the chance for which we erstwhile so ardently prayed.
The affair had now assumed a different phase, and promised to be a water chase. With my yacht in sight, I had great hopes of winning out.
Besides, Hildegarde was going on board—she must have forgotten her violent declaration that nothing could induce her to set her foot on that detestable yacht.
When I dropped into the stern of the boat, I naturally floundered a little; but it was beamy enough to allow one a chance to recover, and I knew I had business to attend to at my end, as well as Robbins did with his oars.
For instance, there were two ugly boatmen on the landing stage; I imagined they would be in just the humor to hurl anything after us they could lay their hands on, andsince we were not alone in the boat, it was my business to prevent such a bombardment.
As their forms loomed up on the edge of the planks, and I saw one fellow raise his arm to hurl some heavy weight into our boat that might have sunk us, not to mention the chances for mangled limbs, I sent him my compliments instanter.
With the flash and the report, both men dropped flat upon the dock, one from fright, the other, I fervently hoped, because he had a bit of hot lead somewhere about his anatomy. When I heard him groaning and uttering a perfect prize collection of swear words, I knew I had pinked the rascal, and my spirits went up accordingly.
Robbins was tugging away like an engine, but the clumsy old boat seemed to move through the water like a tub or a derelict.
I heard the mate grumble.
“What’s wrong, old man?” I called, watching the quay for expected figures, for we were still too close for comfort, despite strenuous exertions.
“Pulls like she had an anchor down. Holy Moses! how’ll we ever get there at this rate?”
His words gave me a sudden thought, born of suspicion; I looked over the rounded stern of the boat, and was just in time to discover a human head, which instantly vanished.
“Now she moves!” cried the mate.
“Yes; it was that lubber holding on to the keel and dragging—the fellow you sent in.”
It was fortunate I discovered his clever ruse when I did, for a little more of it would have ruined us.
We were leaving the quay well behind now, but I could see that it was rapidly filling with people, who shouted in a way that might not be misunderstood.
Of course, they would immediately seize upon all theavailable boats at the landing stage, and put out in hot pursuit.
Who cared? With the open bay before us, and my good yacht in sight, I felt as though this stage of my troubles was nearing its end.
We could hear them tumbling into the boats, and I only hoped their eagerness to share in the golden reward would cause them to overcrowd every craft.
Then came the splash of oars in the water, and we knew we were in for the last stage of this really exciting affair.
I had great confidence in Robbins, more than I felt in the oars he handled, which I feared were of the usual treacherous character habitual among those shiftless boatmen of Bolivar, and which might snap under his mighty strokes.
Still the crowd gathered, as though half of the city’s population had been drawn to the water side by this modest little affair of ours.
Never had the frail landing stage been put to such a severe test.
I trembled for the result, and my fears proved not without foundation, for suddenly there came a tremendous crash, a din of shouting and shrieking, not unmixed with laughter, for the tide was low and the water shallow, and then we knew Bolivar would be put to the expense of a new landing stage as one result of this wonderful “gringo hunt.”
Hildegarde was naturally alarmed at the tremendous commotion back of us, and feared that some scores of persons might be drowned; but I calmed her as best I could by explaining how very shallow the water was, and what amphibious creatures these people were.
Besides, we had troubles of our own, and in a case of this kind “every tub must stand on its own bottom.”
The rude boat was but a hollow mockery when it cameto a question of speed—perhaps by some accident we had chanced upon the very poorest of the lot, but it could not be set down against Robbins, who at the time was compelled to accept what the gods gave him, and to be influenced more by the position of the various craft than anything else.
I had hoped we would hold our own, and thus lead the pursuers a merry dance up to the very side of the yacht.
It was not to be.
My ear was not finely educated in matters of this sort, but even I could tell that we were being steadily overhauled.
There was no mystery about it—the other boats pulled two pairs of oars apiece.
That probably meant more work for me.
I remembered that I had discharged a number of shots, and that in its present condition my revolver was next to useless.
And I also joyfully recollected purchasing a box of cartridges that very evening, intending to take it aboard the yacht.
What great, good fortune! Why, things were working harmoniously all around!
My nimble fingers started to search for that godsend of a pasteboard box, which was discovered snugly reposing in a pocket of my coat. Then I tore it open, and proceeded to load.
I rather guess few men ever replenished the chambers of a revolver under more singular and exciting conditions, with a jerky boat, only starlight to see by, and closely pursued by several detachments of fierce, vindictive natives.
Who the fellows in the other boat might be I neither knew nor cared; perhaps some of them might have been numbered among the original guests of the mayor, althoughI doubted this very much, as those chaps, if they had kept up the long chase, would have been too winded to do much rowing.
More likely they consisted of other watermen, or soldiers recruited by the riotous mob in its whirlwind passage through the town.
Men in all lands are mightily moved by the alluring glitter of a golden prize, and these fellows risked everything with that in view.
Hence, I had no other feeling for them save contempt; they might have aroused my respect could I have believed them influenced by any patriotic motive, but hired assassins deserved no mercy at my hands.
And I was grimly resolved that, having enlisted for the war, I was not to be deterred from doing my duty, with a precious cargo on board and a haven in sight.
Let them come on; there would be more blood than mine to flow, for no man should put a foot inside this old tub while I had a shot left or could wield a boathook.
Straining my eyes, I could see two boats coming up; the other had fallen behind, being like our own, a poor makeshift.
They were overhauling us fast enough, and unless some miracle offered, we must take our chances with them.
As near as I could make out in the starlight, there were about four men in each boat; the odds were certainly overwhelming, but true Anglo-Saxon hearts do not quail when the difficulties mount upward.
I believed I could materially lessen their number ere they came alongside, and perhaps create something of consternation in their ranks.
Nearer still, until I could see the figure in each bow, waiting to grapple with us; nearer, while Robbins strained every muscle, pulling as man never pulled before; then came a shout of joy from our pursuers, the meaning ofwhich I realized only too well, for I had heard one of the oars snap in my comrade’s fearful grip, and knew we were at last helpless on the water.