“They are coming.”  The Captain turned to those who had gathered on the bridge, adding, “Now I want this place cleared, please.  If this scheme falls through, we shall have our perch raked with machine guns.  Go down on deck and either keep below, or to the side of the forward steel deck-house, which is away from the warships—­and no noise.  Not a sound!  Understand?”

Virginia, Mrs. Van Vleck, Oddington, and two others of the party decided to take their position in the shelter of the deck-house, where they could see and yet be protected if the vessel were fired upon.  All amusement had gone from the situation for Virginia.  She knew that her father, who insisted upon remaining on the bridge, might at any moment be placed in jeopardy.  And there was another emotion, which she sought not to deny—­the Captain, what if he should fall?  Ah, she did not want that—­particularly now he was risking himself, not for honor, not for any interest of his own, but because he was her father’s employee.  Then, too, she wished to study, to know him better; yes, that was what she wanted, and she had been conscious of it all along, to see, to learn, to know more of him.  She could distinguish his tall, straight figure against the darkness, moving swiftly.

She had forgotten about the pursuing warships and what might follow, until her aunt tugged at her sleeve.

“They are coming, Virginia,” she said.

They were indeed, and angry craft they were, a spectacle to marvel at, viewed from the shrouded Tampico, lying black and motionless, with every light out, with tarpaulins over the engine-room hatches and gratings; with even the ventilator hoods blanketed.

“There they are!” The whisper shot through the Tampico like a draft of cold air.  Virginia was quivering with excitement.  She could see the leading boat as it passed not three hundred yards away, and the next, both spouting flames from their funnels, throwing up water, which fell in silvery, phosphorescent spray—­racketing, clawing the restless sea, chugging, hissing with shouts of vengeance hurtling from their decks, First ploughed the flag-ship El Toro, next El Teuera, and last the “battleship” El Manuel, sitting almost on her stern, plugging along doggedly in a Herculean effort to be first in at the death of the presumptuous kidnappers.

It was alarming, too, and the young people, trembling behind their shelter, gave a great sigh of relief as the last avenger passed, and the head of the Tampico swung slowly around in the direction of the harbor.  Virginia again turned her eyes to the bridge.  The young Captain was standing like a statue, with his hands on the engine-room indicator, jumping the Tampico across the waves under full headway.  He was looking back over his shoulder, and the girl, following his gaze, saw to her great trepidation that the flag-ship, El Toro, had ceased headway and was lying motionless, as if those aboard her had divined the trick and were pausing a moment for fresh bearings.