At last night came. Calamity gave the word and the men streamed out of the foc'sle, some rushing to the falls ready to lower the boats from the davits, others stowing arms and ammunition under the thwarts. Every man had his own particular duty to discharge; there was no confusion, no shouting of orders, no wild and objectless rushing about—everything was done quietly and systematically.

"Stand by!"

The Captain's voice was low but penetrating. Everyone stood still at his post.

"Slip!"

The boats dropped from the davits, the falls were cast off, the oars flung out, and the bowmen stood up, ready to push off at the order. Quickly, and with scarce a sound, the landing party swarmed down the rope-ladders and took their places in the boats.

"Give way!"

As one man, the rowers bent to their oars, the boats shot out into the darkness, and were lost to view by those left on board. The oars had been muffled, so that the only sounds which could be heard were the soft plash of the blades as they dipped into the water and the creaking of the thwarts and stretchers. But soon these noises died away in the distance, and then all seemed perfectly still to the dark figures crouching beside the guns on the Hawk's decks.

About five minutes after the boats had left a tongue of flame suddenly leapt from the fort, followed by a dull boom. Evidently the Germans had just discovered the attack, and were attempting to sink the boats before they reached the shore. The sound of the gun had scarcely died away when Mr. Dykes passed the word to open fire on the fort, and there ensued a lively duel between the latter and the Hawk. As it was a pitch dark night, each side had to guide its fire by the flashes of the enemy's guns, so that, at first, the shooting was somewhat erratic. But, after a while, the Germans began to get the range of the Hawk and to make such good practice that Mr. Dykes had to order some of his men to fill bags with sand ballast and stack them along the bulwarks to afford additional protection to the gun crews. Unfortunately, the enemy's guns were of much heavier calibre than the Hawk's, so that, when a shell struck the vessel, it did considerable damage.

"By Gum!" ejaculated the mate, "this is getting durned hot."

He had not reckoned upon receiving such a tremendous fusillade from the fort, and, though by no means a timorous man, began to fear that the Hawk would be sunk at her moorings. So far as he was able to tell at present, there had been only a few casualties on board, the bulwarks and sandbags affording an excellent protection for the men working the guns, although, had it been daylight, these would probably have been of little avail. But the steamer herself had suffered considerably; the deck-houses were mostly in splinters, all the skylights had been smashed, and where the funnel had once stood there was now only a jagged stump. Once the enemy succeeded in battering down the defences, his guns would simply annihilate every living thing on board.

"I wish some of them shells would cut our cables," he murmured to himself, "then we could just skidoo out of the harbour, and the old man couldn't say a word."

The notion of slipping the cables himself and creeping out of the harbour occurred to him more than once, but each time he dismissed it from his mind. It would certainly savour of cowardice to leave Calamity and his men on the island without a chance to retreat, while, if the Captain should ever succeed in getting within reach of him afterwards, the consequences would be very far from pleasant.

By this time one of the Hawk's machine-guns had been put out of action, and still the fort kept up an unceasing bombardment. Mr. Dykes was now fervently hoping that Calamity would abandon the attack, return on board, and get out of this hornet's nest with all possible speed—if, of course, the steamer was not already too battered about to get under way. With this possibility in view, he sent a man to fetch McPhulach and was exceedingly surprised to learn that the engineer could not be found.

"Ain't he in his cabin?" he inquired.

"No, sir, nor yet in the engine-room," replied the messenger.

"But he must be, the skipper said he was to stand by the engines."

"'E's not there," repeated the man.

"See if he's in the alleyway."

The man departed but returned with the information that McPhulach was not in the alleyway. Moreover, nobody on board had seen him since the landing party left.

"Fetch up Mr. Sims," said the mate.

Mr. Sims was the second-engineer, a melancholy man with watery eyes, a pallid face, and chronic dyspepsia, who never mixed with the other officers or uttered a word if he could possibly help it. He was, too, an indifferent engineer; but, as McPhulach had once said, the biggest success as a nonentity he had ever met.

"How long will it take us to get under way?" inquired the mate when Mr. Sims appeared.

"Half an hour, may be."

"What!" ejaculated Mr. Dykes.

Mr. Sims nodded in confirmation of his statement.

"Ain't there no steam, then?"

Mr. Sims shook his head.

"Then what in thunder have you been doing down there? Didn't you have orders to keep up a full head of steam?"

Mr. Sims nodded.

"For God's sake use your tongue, man," roared the mate. "Why ain't there no steam?"

"Because all the firemen are on deck."

Mr. Dykes almost danced with rage, yet this time he could say nothing for the simple reason that he now recollected having ordered all hands on deck for the purpose of serving the guns and passing up ammunition out of the hold.

"Oh, get to hell out of it!" he spluttered and Mr. Sims vanished back into obscurity.

Having despatched some firemen below to get up steam, the mate again fell to considering the advisability of drawing off since the enemy's fire showed no signs of slackening. To do him justice, it was not from fear of being himself hit at any moment, but rather from a vivid anticipation of the fate in store for him and the others on board if they fell into the hands of the enemy. Still, if Mr. Sims's report was correct, nothing could be done for at least half an hour.

In order to assure himself that the firemen were doing their utmost, Mr. Dykes left the bos'n's-mate in charge of the deck and descended to the stokehold—a thing he would not have dared to do had McPhulach been on board. Having ascertained that there was already a fair pressure of steam, he returned to the deck and personally tested the capstans used for hauling up the anchors.

"I'm goin' to get out of this death-trap," he said to the bos'n's-mate, "so stand by to pick up the anchor. Keep the men at the guns till I give the word to cease firing, else them durned Germans will smell a rat and butt in before we can quit."

"'Ow about the Cap'n, sir?" asked the man doubtfully.

"Damn your eyes, do what I tell you, and don't ask fool questions!" snapped the mate.

The man walked away, somewhat unwillingly Mr. Dykes thought, which made him all the more angry and determined to carry out his plan. He wasn't going to be dictated to by a swab of a bos'n's-mate or anyone else so long as he was in charge of the ship.

Having rung down "Stand by" to the engine-room, he went on to the foc'sle head to superintend the weighing of the anchor. When all was ready and he was about to pass the word to the man at the steam capstan, Miss Fletcher suddenly appeared on the foc'sle.

"What are you going to do?" she asked.

"Get under way," he answered curtly.

"And leave the Captain and his men in the lurch?"

"There ain't any Captain, nor men either, by now, so just quit this foc'sle," answered the mate in a voice of suppressed rage.

"That's as it may be," said the girl quietly, "but you're not going to heave that anchor."

"Eh!" exclaimed Mr. Dykes, scarce able to believe his ears.

"I say that you shan't leave this harbour till the Captain comes on board."

For a moment Mr. Dykes was so overcome with mingled astonishment and indignation that he could not speak. Then, uttering an oath, he sprang towards her, apparently with the intention of thrusting her off the foc'sle. Suddenly, however, he stopped dead as he caught sight of a revolver in the girl's hand. Then, while they still stood eyeing each other, the vessel gave an unexpected lurch which nearly threw them off their feet. The mate sprang to the side and gazed down into the dark water below.

"Euchred!" he ejaculated. "The tide's runnin' out and we're fast aground."