In Which I Show My True Colors

But two things grew on me in conviction. First, I loved Helena Emory
more and more each day of my life; and second, that I must see her at
the first moment possible--in spite of all my resolutions to put her
out of my life forever! And, these two things being assured, when we
saw the rolling yellowish flood of the Father of the Waters at last
sweeping before us, I realized that, bound as I was in honor to hold
on with my faithful band, our craft, the Sea Rover--sixteen feet
long she was, and well equipped with Long Toms and deck
cannonades--would have no chance to overtake the Belle Helène,
fastest yacht on the Great Lakes, who might, so far as I could tell,
at that very moment be cleaving through the Chicago canal, to enter
the great river hundreds of miles ahead of us.

Wherefore, leaving my bold mates in bivouac one day, I made journey
to the nearest town. There, I sent certain messages to anxious
parents, and left for them our probable itinerary as tourists
traveling by private conveyance. I could not set our future dates and
ports more closely together; for, before I left town, I had purchased
a sturdy power boat of our own, capable of doing her ten or twelve
miles under her own petrol. I was in no mind to fall farther and
farther back of the Belle Helène each day; and I counted upon our
piratical energy to keep us going more hours a day than Cal
Davidson--curses on him!--would be apt to travel.