Between that and the mainland, running roughly north, was a passage that narrowed in more than one place to less than a hundred yards.

That would have been the obvious course to take had we not been afraid of pursuit, had we dared get away by daylight, and provided I had known the way.

As it was I intended to add another hundred miles to the distance between us and the northern shore of the lake, by sailing well clear of and around Ukerewe, trusting to the less frequented water and the wilder islands to make escape easier.
I judged it likely that the moment we were missed, the launch would be sent off in search of us, and that the Germans would search the narrow passage first.

They would expect us to take the narrow passage, as the shortest, and depend on their ability to steam a dozen miles an hour to overhaul us, even should we get a long start on the outside course.
With gaining wind, a following sea, a little ship crowded to suffocation, and a sail that might blow to shreds at any minute, it was not long before I began to pray for the lee of Ukerewe, and to stand in closer toward where I judged the end of the island ought to be than perhaps I should have done.

It was lucky, though, that I did.
In making calculations I had overlooked the obvious fact that, steaming three miles to our one, the launch could very well afford to take the outside course to start with.