It seemed that she was an English-owned brig known as the Seven Stars, and that her captain, one Richardson, proposed to sail back to the Bay on the morrow, that was the third of July, or in other words, within twenty-four hours.
Twenty-four hours! And Port Elizabeth was one hundred and eighteen miles away, and the Seven Stars might leave earlier if she had completed her cargo and wind and weather served.

Moreover, if she did leave, it might be weeks or months before any other ship sailed for Delagoa Bay, for in those days, of course, there were no mail boats.
I looked at my watch.

It was four o'clock in the afternoon, and from a calendar we had, which gave the tides at Port Elizabeth and other South African harbours, it did not seem probable that the Seven Stars would sail, if she kept to her date, before about eight on the morrow.

One hundred and twenty miles to be covered in, say, fourteen hours over rough country with some hills! Well, on the other hand, the roads were fairly good and dry, with no flooded rivers to cross, although there might be one to swim, and there was a full moon.

It could be done--barely, and now I was glad indeed that Hernan Pereira had not won my swift mare in that shooting match.
I called to Hans, who was loafing about outside, and said quietly: "I ride to Port Elizabeth, and must be there by eight o'clock to-morrow morning." "Allemachte!" exclaimed Hans, who had been that road several times.
"You will go with me, and from Port Elizabeth on to Delagoa Bay.