Torode had evidently not been able to get round La Hague, and a man must have been blind indeed not to see therein the hand of Providence; for a cap full of wind and he would have been down on us like a wolf on two strayed lambs.

But now Sercq lay straight in front of our boat's nose, like a great gray whale nuzzling its young, and every long pull of the oars brought it nearer.
There was time indeed for catastrophe yet, and our anxieties would not be ended till Creux harbour was in sight.

For, from Cherbourg to Sercq was but forty miles,--but, fortunately for us, forty miles which included La Hague and the Race,--and if Torode could pick up a fair wind he could do it in four hours--or, with all obstacles, in five, or at most six--whereas, strain as we might, and we were not fresh to begin with, we could not possibly cover the distance in less than seven hours.

So, given a wind, the race might prove a tight one, and, as we rowed, our eyes were glued to the northern sky-line, where La Hague was growing dimmer with every lurch of the boat, and our hearts were strong with hope if not entirely free from fear.
We toiled like galley-slaves, for though the danger was not visible as yet, for aught we knew it might appear above the horizon at any moment, and then our chances would be small indeed.

Had any eye watched our progress it must have deemed us demented, for we rowed across a lonely sea as though death and destruction followed close in our wake.
For myself, I know my heart was just one dumb prayer for help in this hour of need.