surmised that it was a fishing vessel. Captain Desmond looked intently and then exclaimed:—
"My God! There 's the guard-boat, filled with police. Pass out those rifles."
The guard-boat was large, with two mutton-leg sails, and there were thirty or forty men aboard. Affairs in the whaleboat assumed a belligerent aspect. Rifles were distributed, wet cartridges drawn from revolvers and replaced with fresh, and the prisoners swore they would fight until the last man was killed.
At Desmond's cry the appearance of exhaustion vanished. Every man was alert. The crew put new vigor into the stroke of the oars. When about two and a half miles from the Catalpa, the lookout at the masthead evidently raised the whaleboat, for the Catalpa suddenly bore down with all sail set. The police evidently suspected something, for the officers ran up the sail-hoops on the mast and started after the ship, with three or four men at the sweeps to hasten her progress.
Now it was a question whether the guard-boat would intercept the small boat before the ship was reached. If this was done, there would be a fatal conflict. The rescued men tried to help at the oars, but their efforts were a detriment, and they were ordered to lie in the bottom of the boat, that they might not hamper the crew. There they lay, and hugged their rifles grimly.
There were moments of suspense, but at length it was seen that the whaleboat would reach the
