Through those breakers the last light from the ship
helped them, and the wind tugging at their little
jury sail aided to drive them on until they could
swing off the raft and walk toward the beach, carrying
Kate between them. On the safe, dry sands they
turned, and as they looked back, the Heron slid forward
into the ocean and quenched her fires with a hiss
that was like a far-heard whisper of the sea.
Meanwhile the shouts of the mutineers rang louder
and louder as their rafts edged in toward the land,
so the three turned again and made directly inland.
A hundred yards from the edge of the water they were
in a dense jungle such as only exists in a Central
American swamp region, but they waded and splashed
on, and clambered over rotten stumps, slick with wet
moss, and stepped on fragments of wood that crumbled
under their feet. And all the time they kept the
girl between them, lifting her clear of the noisome
water as much as possible.
The shouting of the mutineers, however, urged them
on, and from the sound of the voices there was no
doubt that Hovey and his men were combing the marsh
for the fugitives. Torches had been made by the
sailors, and behind them, now and then, they caught
a glimpse of a winking eye of light. This drove
them on, and just when the shouts of the mutineers
began to die away, the marsh ended as abruptly as it
had begun, and they started to climb a slope where
the thicket changed to an almost open wood. The
rise was not long, for after some hours of weary trudging,
they reached a road.
Down this they straggled with stumbling feet.
They had not spoken for nearly two hours, as though
they wished to save even the breath of speech for
some trial which might still await them. Kate
was half unconscious with fatigue, and McTee on her
left and Harrigan on her right carried most of her
weight.
In this manner they came in sight of a light which
developed into a low-roofed, broad house with a hospitable
veranda stretching about it. They made directly
for it, traversing a level field until they came to
the door. McTee supported Kate while Harrigan
knocked. There was silence within the house,
and then a whisper, a stir, the padding of a slippered
foot, and the door was jerked open. A tall man
with a narrow, pointed beard appeared. He held
a lantern in one hand and a pistol in the other; for
those were troubled times in that republic. The
light fell full on the haggard face of Kate, and the
man started back.
“Enter, my children,” he said in Spanish,
and tossing his weapon onto a little hall table, he
held out his hand to them.
With a great voice he brought his family and servants
about them in a few seconds. To a wide-eyed girl
with a frightened voice, he gave the care of Kate,
and the two went off together. The master of the
house himself attended to the needs of Harrigan and
McTee.
