“Still right side up!  They may shoot more cannon balls at us, Ned, but they won’t hit as near as that again!”

“No, it’s not likely,” said Ned, “but there come the boats!”

Large boats rowed by eight men apiece had now put out, but they, too, were troubled by the wind and the high waves, and the boat they pursued was so small that it was lost to sight most of the time.  The wind and darkness while a danger on the one hand were a protection on the other.  Fortunately both current and wind were bearing them in the direction they wished, and they struggled with the energy that the love of life can bring.  All the large boats save one now disappeared from view, but the exception, having marked them well, came on, gaining.  An officer seated in the prow, and wrapped in a long cloak, hailed them in a loud voice, ordering them to surrender.

“Ned,” said Obed White, “you keep the boat going straight ahead and I’ll answer that man.  But I wish this was a rifle in place of a musket.”

He picked up the musket and took aim.  When he fired the leading rower on the right hand side of the pursuing boat dropped back, and the boat was instantly in confusion.  White laid down the musket and seized the oar again.

“Now, Ned,” he exclaimed, “if we pull as hard as we can and a little harder, we’ll lose them!”

The boat, driven by the oars and the wind, sprang forward.  Fortune, as if resolved now to favor fugitives who had made so brave a fight against overwhelming odds, piled the clouds thicker and heavier than ever over the bay.  The little boat was completely concealed from its pursuers.  Another gun boomed from San Juan de Ulua, and both Ned and Obed saw its flash on the parapet, but, hidden under the kindly veil of the night, they pulled straight ahead with strong arms.  The sea seemed to be growing smoother, and soon they saw an outline which they knew to be that of the land.

“We’re below the town now,” said Obed.  “I don’t know any particular landing place, but it’s low and sandy along here.  So I propose that we ride right in on the the highest wave, jump out of the boat when she strikes and leave her.”

“Good enough,” said Ned.  “Yes, that’s the land.  I can see it plainly now, and here comes our wave.”

The crest of the great wave lifted them up, and bore them swiftly inland, the two increasing the speed with their oars.  They went far up on a sandy beach, where the boat struck.  They sprang out, Obed taking with him the unloaded musket, and ran.  The retreating water caught them about the ankles and pulled hard, but could not drag them back.  They passed beyond the highest mark of the waves, and then dropped, exhausted, on the ground.

“We’ve got all Mexico now to escape in,” said Obed White, “instead of that pent-up castle.”

The alarm gun boomed once more from San Juan de Ulua, and reminded them that they could not linger long there.  The rain was still falling, the night was cold, and, after their tremendous strain, they would need shelter as well as refuge.