The boat was but half a mile behind them when it was joined by an eight-oared galley, which had been seen rowing out from the harbor, whence, doubtless, it had been dispatched to inquire into the errand of the boat seen rowing off to the ship.  After lying alongside the barge for a minute or two she turned her head, and made back again with all speed.

“You would have done more wisely,” the captain said to Harry, “if you had retained the prisoners on board until the second boat came alongside.  You could have swamped that, and sent those in it back with the others, who will not reach shore until late this afternoon, for with only four oars they will make no way until the land breeze falls.”

“It would have been better—­far better”—­Harry agreed—­“but one does not always think of things at the right time.  What ships are there in port, Jacob?”

“There is the vessel I came by and two others,” Jacob replied, “all about the same size as this, and mounting each as many guns.  You have eight, I see, captain; the one I came out in had ten.”

“They will pursue us,” the captain said, “you may be sure.  It is known that we are not a fast sailer, and I think, sir, you will have to fight for it.”

“So be it,” Harry said.  “There are two hundred of us, and though they might sink the ship, they will assuredly never carry it by boarding.  There is not a man here who would not rather die fighting than spend his life in slavery on that island.”

The vessel had gone about six miles on her course, when from the topmast the captain announced that the galley had gained the port, now twelve miles distant.  “There is a gun,” he said, five minutes later.  “They have taken the alarm now.”  He then descended to the deck, leaving a sailor in the tops.  Two hours later the latter announced that the topsails of three ships coming out from the harbor were visible.

“We have nigh thirty miles’ start,” the captain said.  “They will not be up to us till to-morrow at midday.”

“Do you think it would be any use to try to lose them by altering our course in the night?” Harry asked.

“No,” the captain answered.  “It is but ten o’clock in the day now.  They will be within ten or twelve miles by nightfall, for the wind is stronger near the land than it is here, and with their night glasses they could hardly miss us on a bright starlight night.  I am ready to try if you like, for I do not wish to see the ship knocked into matchwood.”

After some deliberation it was determined to hold their course, and as night came on it was found that escape would have been out of the question, for the vessels behind had overhauled the Lass of Devon faster than had been anticipated, and were little more than five miles astern.  They could be plainly seen after darkness set in, with the night glasses.

“What you must do, captain, is to lay her aboard the first which comes up,” Harry said; “even if they have brought all the garrison we shall be far stronger than any one of them taken singly.”