Wyndham nodded. San Cristobal was some distance off; a small town with a good harbor, where there was a foundry and a coaling wharf. Yet it would be dangerous to make open inquiries about the tug or to visit the place, because Wyndham had grounds for imagining they were watched. Indeed, one of the port-guards was lounging near them. When a whistle screamed he looked up and saw the liner circle outside the mole. Foam broke about her side as the screw turned astern, a row of lights flashed into brightness, and big electric hatch lamps blazed up on deck. She stopped, the anchor splashed, and the doctor's noisy launch went off. Then the yellow flag came down and shore boats crowded about the ship. It was nearly dark when the returning boats pulled towards the mole. A steamer was anchored near the entrance, and _Columbine_ rode between her and the wall, leaving a narrow channel through which the boats must pass. When the first was close by Wyndham glanced carelessly at the passengers, but after a few moments his glance got fixed. Among the row of faces there was one he thought he knew and as the boat drew level with him he clenched his fist. "Look at the third man in the stern-sheets, Bob," he said. Marston looked and started. "It's Peters! This is going to make things awkward. The brute has lost no time. D'you think he knows we're here?" "He knows _Columbine_," said Wyndham. "I imagine he sees her." Peters turned his head and his movements indicated that he was talking to the sailor who rowed on the thwart in front. "That is enough," Marston remarked. "He'll try us again in the morning, and if we're firm, he'll see what he can do with Larrinaga. We are going to be firm. I won't buy off the brute." "Then we had better get to sea, but we must find out about the tug before we start. On the whole, I think we'll get about it now." Marston was surprised. "San Cristobal's a long way off, and I don't know if we could hire horses. Then I doubt if we could return by noon to-morrow, and one of the port-guards might board _Columbine_ in the morning. Larrinaga would guess our object if he found out where we'd gone." "Exactly," said Wyndham. "We can't go by road, but the gig is here and we'd shorten the distance by sailing across the bay. In fact, if we're lucky, we ought to have an hour or two to look about and then get back by daybreak. The land-breeze will soon blow fresh; a fair wind both ways." "By George!" said Marston. "The thing can be done!" Running down the steps, they pushed off the gig. She was a well-built boat, twenty feet long, and on the African coast Marston had got a Fanti carpenter to fit her with a centerboard. She carried a big sail when she had a crew on board, and now the heavy chain would make good ballast. When they had got a compass, a lantern, and some food from _Columbine_, they pulled off among some shore boats going to the liner, and vanished into the darkness round her stern.