"Look!" said Margaret, pointing to horsemen galloping southwards along the river's bank.
"Yes," said Peter, "they go to warn the ports.

God send that the wind holds, for we must fight our way to sea." The wind did hold, indeed it blew ever more strongly from the north; but oh! that was a long, evil day.

Hour after hour they sped forward down the widening river; now past villages, where knots of people waved weapons at them as they went; now by desolate marshes, plains, and banks clothed with pine.
When they reached Bonanza the sun was low, and when they were off San Lucar it had begun to sink.

Out into the wide river mouth, where the white waters tumbled on the narrow bar, rowed two great galleys to cut them off, very swift galleys, which it seemed impossible to escape.
Margaret and Castell were sent below, the crew went to quarters, and Peter crept stiffly aft to where the sturdy Smith stood at the helm, which he would suffer no other man to touch.

Smith looked at the sky, he looked at the shore, and the safe, open sea beyond.