l nothing
loomed out of the haze. The canvas rustled and banged above him, there
was a growing splashing beneath the bows, and the schooner strained
more heavily at her cable. Everything was ready, only his comrades did
not appear. He clenched his hands and set his lips as he waited, and
wondered at the Siwash who sat upon the rail, a dim, shapeless figure,
impassively still.

At length his heart throbbed furiously, for a faint splash of oars came
out of the darkness, and they both ran forward to the windlass. The
sharp clanking it made drowned the splash of oars, but in another
minute or two there was a crash as the boat drove alongside, and Charly
scrambled up with a rope while Lewson hurled sundry bags and cases
after him. Then he climbed on deck in turn, and Charly commenced a
breathless explanation.

"It's all we could get. There's nobody on our trail," he said.

The last fact was most important, and Wyllard cut him short. "Get the
jibs and staysail on to her."

The new arrivals did it while the cable clanked and rattled as the
schooner drove astern, but at the first heave the rotten staysail tore
off the hanks, and one jib burst as they ran it up its stay. Then for
an anxious moment or two the cable jammed, and the anchor brought the
schooner up. All four flung themselves upon the windlass levers, and
after a furious effort the chain came up again and ran out faster,
fathom by fathom, rattling horribly, until the end of it shot suddenly
over the windlass. Then there was another check as the schooner
brought up by the kedge swung suddenly across the stream.

Her banging canvas filled, she listed over, and it was evident to all
of them that if the kedge started she would forthwith drive ashore.
Its warp ripped out of the water tense with strain, and she was
swinging on it heading for the beach when; Wyllard flung himself upon
the wheel.

"Hang on to every inch or break it!" he roared. "Out main-boom; box
your jib and staysail up to weather!"

They did it, amidst a great clatter of blocks and thrashing of canvas,
in desperate haste, while Wyllard wrenched up his helm, and the
schooner, straining on the warp, fell away with her bows down-stream.
He was quivering all through, and the sweat of effort dripped from him
when he swung up an arm to Lewson, who was standing at the bollard the
warp was made fast to.

"Now," he cried hoarsely, "let her go!"

The rope fell with a splash, the schooner lurch