nd left for another moment a trail
of fire.

Neither Mr. Fett nor Mr. Badcock could pull an oar, and old
Worthyvale had not the strength for it. The rest of us--all but the
captain, who steered and kept what watch he could astern--took the
rowing by hourly relays, pair and pair: Billy Priske and I, my father
and Mike Halliday, Nat and Roger Wearne.

It had come round again to Billy's turn and mine, and the hour was
that darkest one which promises the near daylight. Captain Pomery,
foreboding that dawn would bring with it an instant need of a clear
head, and being by this time overweighted with drowsiness, had
stepped below for forty winks, leaving Wearne in charge of the helm.
My father and Nat had tumbled into their berths. We had left Mr.
Badcock stationed and keeping watch on the larboard side, near the
waist; and now and then, as we tugged, I fancied I could see the dim
figures of Mr. Fett and Mike Halliday standing above us in converse
near the bows.

Of imminent danger--danger close at hand--I had no fear at all,
trusting that the still night would carry any sound of mischief, and,
moreover, that no boat could approach without being signalled, a
hundred yards off, by the briming in the water. So intolerably hot
and breathless had the night become that I spoke to Billy to ease a
stroke while I pulled off my shirt. I had drawn it over my head and
was slipping my arms clear of the sleeves, when I felt, or thought I
felt, a light waft of wind on my right cheek--the first breath of the
gathering thunderstorm--and turned up my face towards it. At that
instant I heard a short warning cry from somewhere by the helm; not a
call of alarm, but just such a gasp as a man will utter when slapped
on the shoulder at unawares from behind; then a patter of naked feet
rushing aft; then a score of outcries blending into one wild yell as
the whole boatload of Moors leapt and swarmed over the starboard
bulwarks.

The tow-rope, tautening under the last stroke of our oars, had drawn
the boat back in its recoil, and she now drifted close under the
_Gauntlet's_ jibboom, which ran out upon a very short bowsprit.
I stood up, and reaching for a grip on the dolphin-striker, swung
myself on to the bobstay and thence to the cap of the bowsprit, where
I sat astride for a moment while Billy followed. We were barefoot
both and naked to the waist. Cautiously as a pair of cats, we worked
along the bowsprit to the foremast stay, at the f