"There they are!" The whisper shot through the _Tampico_ like a draft
of cold air. Virginia was quivering with excitement. She could see
the leading boat as it passed not three hundred yards away, and the
next, both spouting flames from their funnels, throwing up water, which
fell in silvery, phosphorescent spray--racketing, clawing the restless
sea, chugging, hissing with shouts of vengeance hurtling from their
decks, First ploughed the flag-ship _El Toro_, next _El Teuera_, and
last the "battleship" _El Manuel_, sitting almost on her stern,
plugging along doggedly in a Herculean effort to be first in at the
death of the presumptuous kidnappers.
It was alarming, too, and the young people, trembling behind their
shelter, gave a great sigh of relief as the last avenger passed, and
the head of the _Tampico_ swung slowly around in the direction of the
harbor. Virginia again turned her eyes to the bridge. The young
Captain was standing like a statue, with his hands on the engine-room
indicator, jumping the _Tampico_ across the waves under full headway.
He was looking back over his shoulder, and the girl, following his
gaze, saw to her great trepidation that the flag-ship, _El Toro_, had
ceased headway and was lying motionless, as if those aboard her had
divined the trick and were pausing a moment for fresh bearings.
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