ipper Simms had deserted her to her fate--so close that Theriere
had little hope of being able to carry out his plan of taking her
opposite the opening and then turning and running her before the wind
straight into the swirling waters of the inlet.

Now they were almost opposite the aperture and between the giant cliffs
that rose on either side of the narrow entrance a sight was revealed
that filled their hearts with renewed hope and rejoicing, for a tiny
cove was seen to lie beyond the fissure--a cove with a long, wide, sandy
beach up which the waves, broken at the entrance to the little haven,
rolled with much diminished violence.

"Can you hold her alone for a second, Byrne?" asked Theriere. "We
must make the turn in another moment and I've got to let out sail. The
instant that you see me cut her loose put your helm hard to starboard.
She'll come around easy enough I imagine, and then hold her nose
straight for that opening. It's one chance in a thousand; but it's the
only one. Are you game?"

"You know it, cul--go to 't," was Billy Byrne's laconic rejoinder.

As Theriere left the wheel Barbara Harding stepped to the mucker's side.

"Let me help you," she said. "We need every hand that we can get for the
next few moments."

"Beat it," growled the man. "I don't want no skirts in my way."

With a flush, the girl drew back, and then turning watched Theriere
where he stood ready to cut loose the sail at the proper instant. The
vessel was now opposite the cleft in the cliffs. Theriere had lashed
a new sheet in position. Now he cut the old one. The sail swung around
until caught in position by the stout line. The mucker threw the helm
hard to starboard. The nose of the brigantine swung quickly toward the
rocks. The sail filled, and an instant later the ship was dashing to
what seemed her inevitable doom.

Skipper Simms, seeing what Theriere had done after it was too late to
prevent it, dashed madly across the deck toward his junior.

"You fool!" he shrieked. "You fool! What are you doing? Driving us
straight for the rocks--murdering the whole lot of us!" and with that
he sprang upon the Frenchman with maniacal fury, bearing him to the deck
beneath him.

Barbara Harding saw the attack of the fear-demented man, but she was
powerless to prevent it. The mucker saw it too, and grinned--he hoped
that it would be a good fight; there was nothing that he enjoyed more.
He was sorry that he could not take a hand in it, but