on the
tall cliff they had left; their eyes stared amazedly, and they stood
like statues, hearing none of her seductive words.

"What do ye see?" she demanded, frowning up at them.

A score of sharp splashes in the water around the schooner startled her.
She suspected they were hurling missiles at her, and one struck her
arm. She turned swiftly and her face darkened with fury. Then more small
objects fell about her, and one struck her arm. She turned swiftly on
her side to seek the source, and in her ears boomed the tremendous crash
of Stumpy's explosion, rolling far over the sea, reverberating from the
shores and making the air quiver like a solid thing.

A great mass of rock hurtled overhead, missed the schooner by scant
feet, and Venner shouted in horror:

"Throw her a line, Pearse! Here, quickly, before she is crushed by such
a rock as that one!"

The sea was shattered into foam for fathoms around, and every face on
the Feu Follette stared over the rail in helpless astonishment. But on
the face of Dolores glowed a smile of triumph. She feared nothing of
earth or heaven; among the flying rocks she swam on toward the schooner,
smiling up at them, waiting for the rope that meant victory to her.

And in the brief space before the rope hurtled out, down from the
heavens plunged a high-flung piece of granite fair upon Dolores. She
seemed to sense its shadow, and in the moment it struck her she half
sank, breaking its force. But it followed her down. The mass struck
between her gleaming shoulders, and she flung up her arms in despair,
turning over and over with the impact, then floating unconscious close
by the side of the white schooner that had been her goal.

"God! Get her aboard!" gasped Pearse. "She's done for. Yet we cannot
leave her there for the sharks, like a beast!"

Venner and Peters were already trying with boat-hooks to catch Dolores's
tunic. Pearse threw a line over the girl and drew her nearer and the
hooks took hold. They drew her up the side with a care that amounted to
reverence, for in her unconsciousness she was more beautiful than ever,
her fine features molded in dead white, traced with fine blue veins; the
grace of her form was that of a lovely sculpture now, lacking vitality,
but possessing every line of perfection. The blow that had overtaken her
had failed in its terrible threat to crush her.

"Lay her in the companionway on the lounge," said Venner. He ran to the
saloon and brought up w