! Fine weather now!
But still it was a miracle the old sieve got along at all. Amidships the
deck was almost level with the water, and the boat seemed down by the
head, and did not take the sea well. Though there was scarcely any chop,
the waves came over, forward, as though a storm were running. Tonet,
however, with nothing in particular to lose on the venture, made fun of
the old-tub--a torpedo-boat he called her, she sat so low in the water!

At dawn the _Mala Dona_ was just visible, as an indistinct silhouette,
over the stern, and an hour later they were fairly to sea. Out on the
Mediterranean once more, the Rector could hardly believe the cargo he
had taken aboard so rapidly during the night could be real. But there
the bales were! You could see them! The men, quite played out from the
hard work of loading, were sleeping on them. Besides the old _Garbosa_
was crawling along like a mud-turtle from such a burden! But Pascualo
liked the look of the weather. A smooth sea and a good breeze! If things
held like that, the ramshackle old girl might last to Valencia--but no
farther. It wasn't exactly fear. The Rector realized now the imprudence
of starting an important venture in a rig like that. His poor old father
had made fun of the sea, as he had; but that had not prevented him from
being tossed out on the beach one day like a chunk of rotting garbage!
But all that day and the following night the breeze continued fair and
the sea calm.

But the morning dawned with a sky that was overcast, and the wind came
hard in streaks and squalls that were gradually piling up a sea. The
Cabo de San Antonio had just come into view, with the mists curling
round it. Behind, the peak of the Mongo alone was visible, for the base
of the mountain was cloaked in cloud. The _Garbosa_ was running with an
alarming list to starboard, its bulging sail almost dipping into the
water, as the vessel raced along. The frown of the weather was not at
all to the liking of the captain, who, if he wanted to get his load
ashore, would not be able to run in till nightfall anyhow.

Suddenly the Rector jumped to his feet and let the tiller go. _Futro!_
There was no doubt about it. A sail had heaved in view out of the mists
around the Cape. He knew that craft well. It was the cutter from
Valencia on watch off the point. Some one had squealed at the Cabanal!
The real object of the _Garbosa_ had been not fishing, but something
else! Tonet had also recognized t