"Bad, Sidi," he said tersely. "We continue to drive westwards as before." Landon shrugged his shoulders. "We shall not see Cadiz to-morrow nor the day after," he said. "Well, the future is spacious. We have infinite leisure before us in which to beat back." The captain grunted. "Leisure we have in abundance, but not food nor yet water. We must put in somewhere before we attempt a feat which will take, at the best, three days and, if Chance so decides, perhaps a fortnight." Landon's face was clouded with a sudden scowl. "Food and water! Why have you not these in sufficiency? Your terms are extortionate enough as it is without the makeweight of starvation!" "My terms," said Señor Albaceda, gruffly, "were all too cheap; what I learned in Tangier after I had come to an agreement with you was proof to me of that. But I am a man of honor; I keep bargains duly made. I contracted to set you ashore in Cadiz harbor--with a favorable wind a one night's work. I did not contract to feed three extra mouths through a voyage of weeks. When the wind moderates, I make for the nearest market, and you will buy your own provisions for our return. That is well understood." "You mean to land on the African coast, not the European?" cried Landon. "Where else?" said the skipper, drily. "Do you expect me to carry you on to the Azores?" Landon looked questioningly at Muhammed. The Moor made a gesture of resignation. "_Mektub_, it is written!" he answered fatalistically. "Azemmour, perchance, or Mazagan." "And opposite each we shall find a French cruiser anchored," growled Landon, "with launches fussing about, and every craft which enters under suspicion of smuggling guns for the Chawia. And ten to one warning about us from Tangier sent down the coast." "That would be a matter of time," said the Moor. "We have driven faster than horsemen could ride!" "Horsemen!" Landon smote the table in his irritation. "These ships of war have apparatus by which they can communicate as if a cable linked them. If my father-in-law gets the right side of the commandant of the Tangier guardship--" He broke off with another shrug. "Well, to each day its appointed sorrow. The gale has not blown itself out yet." "The event is with Allah!" said the Moor, gravely. He thrust his head up through the hatch and shouted to the steersman. A moment later he dropped back into the shelter of the cabin again. "Your man Ibrahim is of opinion that the wind shows signs of abating. We passed Larache two hours back. The scud hides the shore, but he judges that we are not far from Sallee. If the surf permits, we may get anchorage and make a landing at Azemmour. If not, we must dare Casablanca or continue to Mazagan." Señor Albaceda grunted pessimistically and climbed lumberingly on deck. Landon threw himself back on the berth again. The Moor looked down at the child with a whimsical expression of pity which changed to a benignant smile as the object of it raised his eyes to his.