On The Deck of the "Santa Maria"

"True," he responded in so low a voice I could scarcely catch the words, a slight falter betraying that the strange conditions preyed upon his unaccustomed nerves. "It was thus they were posted last night."

"Then we will assume the risk of finding clear passage. Keep close, and venture no speech, whatever happens."

It proved slow work at the best, as it would never do to have a Spanish spy dogging our footsteps. I doubt not it tested good Father Petreni to the uttermost, yet I thought the better of him for the determined way in which he clung to my heels through the darkness. As for myself, such dodging, twisting, climbing of walls, and skulking amid shadows, merely sufficed to warm the blood, and yielded greater zest for the more serious work to follow. I claim small credit for courage in such matters; they have ever been so much a portion of life to me that their excitement became scarcely more than a draught of heady wine. He was the truly brave man who, without any such incentive as I possessed, left his books and quiet cell that night to follow me abroad.

At last we ran across the great deserted market-place, and paused, crouching breathlessly in the dense shadows of the huge warehouse standing upon the very brink of the broad river. As we rested thus we could hear soft lapping of running water along the further wall, while occasionally some vagrant puff of air brought to our strained ears the distant creaking of chains, as the great war-vessels swung by their cables against the swift current. Beyond this the night was intensely still, black, unfathomable, mysterious. It seemed fairly to weigh down upon us with its noiseless burden of gloom.