On October 6th the _Virgen del Socorro_, to allay any suspicion, made a
voyage to sea, and, on returning, moored alongside the _Wehrt_. Then,
one pitch-black night, the fugitives left their hiding-places. One by
one they slipped out into the darkness and, following the narrowest
and most deserted streets leading to the harbor, reached the quays
unobserved. At such an hour of the night--it was getting on for eleven
o'clock--they could be fairly certain of meeting no one, save, perhaps,
a drunken sailor or two. These revellers took no more notice of Koch
and his companions than they did of their own dim shadows. One by one,
under cover of the darkness, the fugitives disappeared down the same
iron ladder the Vice-Consul had used so often, into José's boat.
By midnight all the fugitives were on board the _Wehrt_, from whose
well-replenished store-rooms they immediately began transhipping the
provisions to the _Virgen del Socorro_. All through the night and until
2 A.M. this work continued. The _Virgen del Socorro_ was then
towed out a little farther into the bay, and on the first signs of
daylight appearing her bow was turned north-east. Soon afterwards a
fresh early morning wind sprang up from the land, her sails filled, and
she set off on her long voyage.
What happened to the _Virgen del Socorro_ I will now relate, in
accordance with details furnished by various members of her crew.
The little vessel had no sooner left Vigo and got out into the open
than the land wind suddenly increased in strength and drove her into
exceedingly rough and treacherous water. Some of the crew were for
turning back, despite the risks that step would have entailed, and the
matter was discussed at some length by Lieutenant Koch and the other
leaders. They came to the conclusion, however, that they were "between
the devil and the deep sea," and must keep on. It seems doubtful,
indeed, whether, had they decided to make an attempt to get back to
Vigo, they could have accomplished it.
That first day, and for many days afterwards, the _Virgen del Socorro_
became a veritable plaything of the waves, which soon began to rise
mountain-high. The sufferings of the crowded fugitives in this terrible
weather were intense. All were drenched to the skin, and for more than
three days and nights they had to remain in this miserable condition.
To these tortures were added the craving for sleep and adequate
nourishment, for, amidst the continual buffeting of the waves and
wind, they could neither sleep nor get anything cooked. Under these
conditions, it was not surprising that the twenty occupants of the
_Virgen del Socorro_ were finally reduced to the state of not caring
what happened. One of the two sailors on board, on whose shoulders
devolved much of the work of navigation, said that, "old seaman though
he was, he had never before experienced such weather." He felt at times
that "all his strength and hope were sapped," and hourly, during those
terrible first six days, when the little schooner was tossed about like
a cork, "expected death would relieve him of his tortures."
The storm then calmed down a little and gave the fugitives a respite.
They were able to dry their drenched clothes and attend to the needs of
the inner man. At the same time they could pay more attention to the
question of their course. On this score they were soon to receive a
shock, for there hove in sight a vessel that was undoubtedly a British
patrol. For a couple of hours there were many anxious searchings of
heart on board the _Virgen del Socorro_. Would she, thanks to her
insignificance and the Dutch flag flying from her mast, be taken for an
inoffensive fishing smack, and be allowed to go unchallenged? That had
been part of their plan all through.
At one moment it looked as though the patrol was bearing down upon
them at full speed; but when the dreaded vessel got no bigger, but
instead gradually receded into the distance, the crew of the _Virgen
del Socorro_ realized that for the time being they were safe.