d lifted Madame
Alvarez after him, leaving her late escort standing with uncovered
heads on the beach behind her, when the rocket shot up into the calm
white air, with a roar and a rush and a sudden flash of color. At the
same instant, as though in answer to its challenge, the woods back of
them burst into an irregular line of flame, a volley of rifle shots
shattered the silence, and a score of bullets splashed in the water and
on the rocks about them.

The boatswain in the bow of the long-boat tossed up his arms and
pitched forward between the thwarts.

"Give way," he shouted as he fell.

"Pull," Clay yelled, "pull, all of you."

He threw himself against the stern of the boat, and Langham and
MacWilliams clutched its sides, and with their shoulders against it and
their bodies half sunk in the water, shoved it off, free of the shore.

The shots continued fiercely, and two of the crew cried out and fell
back upon the oars of the men behind them.

Madame Alvarez sprang to her feet and stood swaying unsteadily as the
boat leaped forward.

"Take me back. Stop, I command you," she cried, "I will not leave
those men. Do you hear?"

King caught her by the waist and dragged her down, but she struggled to
free herself. "I will not leave them to be murdered," she cried. "You
cowards, put me back."

"Hold her, King," Clay shouted. "We're all right. They're not firing
at us."

His voice was drowned in the noise of the oars beating in the rowlocks,
and the reports of the rifles. The boat disappeared in a mist of spray
and moonlight, and Clay turned and faced about him. Langham and
MacWilliams were crouching behind a rock and firing at the flashes in
the woods.

"You can't stay there," Clay cried. "We must get back to Hope."

He ran forward, dodging from side to side and firing as he ran. He
heard shots from the water, and looking back saw that the men in the
longboat had ceased rowing, and were returning the fire from the shore.

"Come back, Hope is all right," her brother called to him. "I haven't
seen a shot within a hundred yards of her yet, they're firing from the
Custom-house and below. I think Mac's hit."

"I'm not," MacWilliams's voice answered from behind a rock, "but I'd
like to see something to shoot at."

A hot tremor of rage swept over Clay at the thought of a possibly fatal
termination to the night's adventure. He groaned at the mockery of
having found his life only to lose it now, when