“Never mind. They can follow us overland to Montevideo. That is where we must make for and quickly. We must find a doctor.”

Captain Maclean looked at El Diablo.

“Let’s get him below,” he said in slow Spanish to the gauchos, “and then we will see what can be done for him.”

Slowly and with difficulty, for, although they were strong, El Diablo was a heavy man, they carried him down the narrow companionway.

Skye opened the door to the comfortable cabin opposite her own. It was exquisitely furnished and the pink silk curtains over the portholes were echoed by the covers on the bed and on a small easy chair.

As the gauchos lifted El Diablo and laid him down, the blood ran from his forehead, dripping onto the pillow until Captain Maclean picked up a linen face towel and laid it across his head to staunch the wound.

Again Skye felt that agonising throb of her heart and she forced the same question from lips that were suddenly dry and a throat that seemed too constricted to emit a sound,

“Is he dead?”

Captain Maclean was taking El Diablo’s pulse.

“No,” he answered, “he has been knocked unconscious by the bullet that cut his forehead and there is some trouble too in his shoulder.”

He spoke with an air of authority and thankfully Skye remembered that the Master Mariner of any ship must be experienced in First Aid. She had seen Captain Maclean treat cuts and injuries before, for accidents can happen even on the best-regulated ships.

Now she turned to him with what was almost a cry of hope.

“He will – live?”

“Ay, I see no reason to think otherwise,” Captain Maclean answered. “I’ll send Evans to attend to him while I get the ship under way, if that is what you wish me to do, Miss Standish.”

“Yes, yes, we must get away from here quickly,” Skye said. “There is no time to be lost.”

She looked then at the two gauchos standing awkwardly by the bed. Their eyes were on their unconscious leader and Skye knew without being told that they were wondering what was going to happen to them.

“You must go back to the camp, Juan,” she said. “Fight General Alejo if you have to, but don’t let him capture the mountains. El Cabeza will come back to you as soon as he is well enough – I promise you that.”

She saw the sudden light of hope in Juan’s eyes.

“El Cabeza will return?” he asked.

She nodded her head confidently.

“It will not be long before he is with you again,” she said more reassuringly than she actually felt. “Don’t worry about him. Take charge yourself and collect men from the town.”

“I understand, señora.”

Juan touched his hat to her and, as he and the other gaucho left the cabin, Skye felt the purr of the engines beneath her feet.