O’Reilly tried to comfort her and she bowed her head upon his shoulder.

“Promise that you won’t go back,” she implored him.

“Very well, if you’ll consent to risk this miserable tub we found on the beach—­”

“I’ll risk anything—­a raft, even.”

“It is large enough to carry us if we can manage to make it hold water, but it won’t be safe.  The weather is good at this season and it shouldn’t take us long to run across to Andros if we have luck.  If we don’t have luck—­”

Norine dried her eyes.  “What would you do if you were alone?  Would you dare try it?”

He hesitated, then confessed, “I think I would, but—­”

“Is there an even chance of our getting across?”

“Perhaps.  It all depends upon the weather.”

“Can’t we—­build a boat?”

He shook his head.  “Even if we had lumber and tools it would take too long.  Ten miles to the east there are Spaniards.  We must do one thing or the other quickly, before they learn we’re here.”

“Then let’s go on.  I’m sure Rosa will agree.”

Rosa did agree.  When her husband put the question fairly to her she showed by the pallor of her cheeks and by the rekindling light of terror in her eyes how desperately she feared remaining longer in this land of hate and persecution.  “Don’t turn back,” she cried.  “I’m not the girl I was.  I’ve endured so much here that—­ I’m always in fear.  Anything would be better than going back.”

When morning came O’Reilly made a closer examination of the abandoned boat.  The result was not encouraging, and when he told Leslie of his intention to make use of it the latter stared at him in open amazement.

“Why, we’ll all be drowned!” Branch declared.

“You can return to Cubitas if you wish.”

“Yes, and fight some more!  No, thank you!  I’ve got a hunch that I’ll be killed by the very next gun I see.”

“Then you’d better risk the sharks.”

Jacket, who was conducting an independent examination of the craft, made an encouraging report.  “Ho!  I’d go ’round the world in this boat,” said he.  “She’s rotten, and you can stick your finger through her, but fish have no fingers.  When the water comes in we’ll dip it out.”

“Do you want to go with us?” Johnnie eyed the newspaper man curiously.

“I—­Y—­yes!” Branch gasped.  “I’ll go, but it’s a shame to lose all of Rosa’s diamonds.”

O’Reilly and one of the guides rode away to the farmhouse discovered on the previous afternoon, and returned in a few hours with all the tools they could find, together with a bucket of tar and a coil of galvanized wire.  Then work began.

The wire, cut into short pieces, served as nails and staples with which to draw together the gaping seams.  Old rags from the house and parts of the men’s clothing supplied calking, upon which the tar was smeared.  While one man shaped mast and oars, another cut Esteban’s shelter tent into a sail, and fitted it.  A stiff, sun-dried cowhide was wet, then stretched and nailed to the gunwales at the bow, forming a sort of forward deck to shelter the sick man from the sun and rain.  Jacket climbed the near-by cocoa-palms and threw down a plentiful supply of nuts for food and water on the voyage.