scattered
wits. He called Tomlin by name hoarsely, softly, and exclaimed when he
looked around:

"Tomlin, shall we three be ruined body and soul by that sorceress? Come,
help us out of these chains, and we will make a bid for liberty. We can
reach Peters and such men as are left, by way of the alleyway to the
forecastle; I know where weapons are to be got, and we'll put our fate
on the cast. Come. Pearse is of a like mind, eh, Pearse?"

Pearse did not reply at once, and Tomlin saved him the trouble; for,
recovering himself with a shudder, he put a hand on the companion-rail
and started up the stairs with a laugh of contempt.

"I have no concern with your troubles, Venner," he said. "As for
liberty, I am free as air. I believe patience is the medicine you need."

Tomlin reached the deck with tingling ears, for even Pearse came out of
his reverie to curse him. But curses or benedictions counted nothing at
that moment. In every patch of light he saw Dolores's devilishly lovely
face; in every swing of the vessel he saw her consummate grace; he was a
thirsty man seeking a spring, knowing full well that a draft must kill
him. He stood alone outside the companionway, wondering at the absence
of people, at the absence of Dolores. A solitary man stood at the wheel;
and, looking around for others, Tomlin noticed vaguely that the black
storm was broken, that watery stars were winking down, and that almost
in the zenith a gibbous moon leaned like a brimming dipper of
quicksilver, ready to drop from the inky cloud that had but just
uncovered it.

Then voices reached his ears from forward, voices full of wondering
anger, and he stepped out clear of the deck-house and peered ahead on
the windward side. There, two miles away, the land loomed black and
forbidding; and high up, on a crest, a great red blaze leaped and
swirled against the flying clouds.

As he stood, Dolores ran aft, ignoring him utterly in her haste. Her men
grouped themselves along the waist of the schooner, waiting for
commands. The Feu Follette was already doing her best; that is, the best
under such sail as was safe to carry. But there, to windward, and yet
two miles distant, some part of the pirate village was burning, and none
might say yet what part it was.

The one thing certain was that it could not be the great chamber. That
was of rock; it might be destroyed by an explosion; never by fire. So
there was a ring of exultation in Dolores's tone when she s