"Dear dame," I said, "think you this storm is worse at sea?"

"Aye, my lamb,'tis from an ugly quarter; but the _Carolina_ has
weathered harder blows, and haply she has found good anchorage in some
safe harbour."

I tried to think the same; nevertheless, in the long hours that we sat
there, listening to the heavy gusts and beating rain, my heart went
faint at the possibility of this new danger to my beloved.

It must have been past noon when the padre came to us again. He brought
food with him freshly cooked,--meat and fish, and broth of parched
corn-flour, not unpleasant to the taste.

"The wind is abating," he declared, "and the clouds are breaking away.
When the rain ceases we may venture to pursue our journey."

I begged to know how he purposed to convey us, for neither Barbara nor
I could go afoot much longer.

Then he laid his plans before us. This wide river, the San Juan, flowing
by the settlement, continues northward for many miles and then curves
eastward and empties itself into the sea. We were to start in two swift
canoes--piraguas, he styled them--and, keeping at first under the lee of
the shore, follow the river to its mouth, then proceed up the coast
along the safe passage afforded by an outlying chain of islands. It
would be a journey of about ten days to the Indian settlement at Santa
Helena; the Indians there, he explained, were allies of our English
friends and would doubtless aid us to rejoin them.

I asked if we must pass by Santa Catalina; and he said 'twas on our way,
but no one there would hinder us while we were under his protection.

"Unless," he added, "the Governor of San Augustin sends out a ship to
intercept us there, or anywhere upon the way; in which case there will
be naught for me to do but give you up to him."

Upon that I was in a fever to be gone; for I felt that the day could not
pass by without Melinza's discovering my flight, and I would endure any
hardship rather than risk his intercepting us.

CHAPTER XXI.

It was not until the rain-clouds had all passed by that the padre chose
to embark. The wind was still high, and our frail canoes were roughly
cradled on the river's turbulent bosom.

Padre Felipe, Barbara, and I, with two Indians, filled the smaller of
the two piraguas; the other held five Indians and a store of provisions
for the journey.

The afternoon sky was naught but windy gloom; white clouds rolled over
us in billowy folds, and tattered scarve