setting foot upon
the down; and here he made sure he could detect the shape of men and
horses moving. A strong discouragement assailed him. If their enemies
were really on the watch, if they had beleaguered the shoreward end of
the pier, he and Lord Foxham were taken in a posture of very poor
defence, the sea behind, the men jostled in the dark upon a narrow
causeway. He gave a cautious whistle, the signal previously agreed upon.

It proved to be a signal far more than he desired. Instantly there fell,
through the black night, a shower of arrows sent at a venture; and so
close were the men huddled on the pier that more than one was hit, and
the arrows were answered with cries of both fear and pain. In this first
discharge, Lord Foxham was struck down; Hawksley had him carried on board
again at once; and his men, during the brief remainder of the skirmish,
fought (when they fought at all) without guidance. That was perhaps the
chief cause of the disaster which made haste to follow.

At the shore end of the pier, for perhaps a minute, Dick held his own
with a handful; one or two were wounded upon either side; steel crossed
steel; nor had there been the least signal of advantage, when in the
twinkling of an eye the tide turned against the party from the ship.
Someone cried out that all was lost; the men were in the very humour to
lend an ear to a discomfortable counsel; the cry was taken up. "On
board, lads, for your lives!" cried another. A third, with the true
instinct of the coward, raised that inevitable report on all retreats:
"We are betrayed!" And in a moment the whole mass of men went surging
and jostling backward down the pier, turning their defenceless backs on
their pursuers and piercing the night with craven outcry.

One coward thrust off the ship's stern, while another still held her by
the bows. The fugitives leaped, screaming, and were hauled on board, or
fell back and perished in the sea. Some were cut down upon the pier by
the pursuers. Many were injured on the ship's deck in the blind haste
and terror of the moment, one man leaping upon another, and a third on
both. At last, and whether by design or accident, the bows of the Good
Hope were liberated; and the ever-ready Lawless, who had maintained his
place at the helm through all the hurly-burly by sheer strength of body
and a liberal use of the cold steel, instantly clapped her on the proper
tack. The ship began to move once more forward o