Among these was Coke, who had never walked so far since he was granted a captain's certificate.

He swore copiously as he lumbered along, and, what between shortness of breath and his tight boots and clothing, the latter disability being added to by a ridiculously inadequate Brazilian tunic, he was barely able to reach the water's edge.
Happily, the launch was there, moored alongside a small quay.

From the nearest building it was necessary to cross a low wharf some fifty yards in width, and De Sylva's whispered commands could not restrain the eager men when escape appeared no longer problematical but assured.
They broke, and ran, an almost fatal thing, as it happened, since the soldiers whom Philip had seen from the rock were still on board.

One of them noticed the inexplicable disorder among a body of men some of whom resembled his own comrades.

He had heard the firing, and was discussing it with others when this strange thing happened.
He challenged.