The speed they were able to get out of the schooner, and the admirable seamanship of her commander enabled them to reach the sought-for shelter before the fury of the West Indian hurricane came on. It was rough work, but with two anchors down, the _Teal_ managed to ride out the blast, and fortunately for her crew the storm subsided as quickly as it had risen, leaving them free to run in for Velova with a gentle breeze over a heavy swell, which as evening approached began to subside fast. It still wanted a couple of hours of sunset when the morning's position was reached, and with favourable wind and the signal flying they were running close in, when Fitz suddenly caught Poole by the arm. "Look yonder," he said. "What at?--My word!" The boy rushed aft to where his father was standing watching the distant city through his glass; but that which he was about to impart was already clearly seen. From behind a wooded point about a mile behind them the black trail of smoke rising from a steamer's funnel was slowly ascending into the soft air, and for a few moments the skipper stood with his teeth set and his face contracted with disappointment and rage. "Think they have seen us, Burgess?" he said at last. "Yes; they have been lying in hiding there, watching us till we were well inside." "Can we get outside again?" "Not a chance of it," was the reply; "the wind will be dead in our teeth, and we can only tack, while they are coming on full speed, and can begin playing long bowls at us with heavy shot whenever they like." "What's to be done?" said the skipper, and without waiting for an answer he added, "Keep on right in. There is one chance yet." "There, don't look so precious pleased," Poole whispered to Fitz. "We are not taken yet." "I--I wasn't looking pleased." "Yes, you were," said Poole sourly; "but you needn't be, because you would be no better off with them than you are with us. But you are not with them yet. Father seems to be taking things very easily, and that only means that we are going to get away." It did not seem like it, though, for as the schooner sailed on into the beautiful orange glow of the coming evening, the gunboat neared them swiftly, spreading a golden trail of light far behind her over the sea which her screw churned up into foam, while overhead trailed backward what seemed to be like a triumphant black feather of smoke. The city before them looked bright and attractive with its gaily-painted houses, green and yellow jalousies, and patches of verdure in the gardens, beyond which the mountains rose in ridge after ridge of green and purple and grey. The bay in front of them was singularly devoid of life. Probably on account of the swell remaining from the hurricane there were no fishing-boats afloat save one, with a long white lateen sail running up into the air like the pointed wing of some sea-bird gliding over the surface of the sea.