As the party filed out of the low dungeon door, each of them of necessity stepped over the prostrate body of Misfortunate Colin. The fates that sport with destiny had offered him up a sacrifice to the wrath of his chief, in order that luckier men might go scatheless.

"It micht just as weel hae been Alister, my man!" said Bess; "for he will be as drunk as the lave, or maybe a kennin waur! But then Alister has been a fortunate man a' his days—no' like that puir tyke there that never supped meal porridge but he choked himsel' wi' the spoon!"

It was a night clear and infinite with stars when the four—Kate, Wat, Scarlett, and Bess—took up each their share of the arms and provisions, which the last-named had provided in the shelter of the dike. The air was still. There was no sound save the ceaseless soughing whisper of the mighty salt river as it rushed northward past the isle—the strange pervading sound of the Suck gurgling afar like the boiling of a pot. Only at intervals and from a distance came the shouting of choruses and the loud "Hooch!" of some reveller yet in the active stages of drinking long life and prosperity to the returned chieftain.

As soon as they had passed the ridge and left the village behind them, Wat paused for a consultation.

"'Tis little use," he said, "to think of making a raft at this time of night. Yet certain it is that we must be clear of the isle by the morning—that is, if one of us is to remain alive."

"I for ane am gaun to bide on Suliscanna!" said Mistress McAlister.

"There is but one way that I can think of," continued Wat, not heeding her; "there are two boats at the landing-place. I saw the men unloading them when I landed to-night. Now we could not take the larger of these into the tide-race, but if the tide be favorable we might seize the smaller and pilot it through the sea-cavern, by which I came hither, to my hiding-place on the isle of Fiara."

Jack Scarlett nodded silent assent as he listened to Wat's suggestion. The night-air had restored all his confidence, and he felt ready for anything. So on the darksome ridge overlooking the landing-place the two women were left to consume their souls with impatience, while Wat and Scarlett, with their daggers in their hands, stole stealthily down to effect their desperate capture.

The boats lay together on the inner side of a little stone breakwater. They were not drawn up on the beach, but secured stem and stern with ropes, and floated in the gentle undulation of the tide. Wat and Scarlett strained their eyes into the darkness for a sight of any watch. But spite of the stars, the night was too impenetrable for them to distinguish the presence of any human being on board.

Wat dropped into the water, having left his powder and shot, together with the pistols, in the care of Scarlett. He swam a few strokes out to the boat and listened. In the larger he could clearly distinguish the breathing of two men. The other appeared to be entirely empty. Promptly Wat cut the cord which secured the stem, and let that boat fall away and swing round with her head towards the shore. Then beckoning Scarlett, whose figure he could discern black against the sand of the beach, Wat stepped on board. Scarcely was he over the side when his foot trod on the soft body of a man. Wat was on him in a moment and had the fellow by the throat. But the helpless gurgle of his respiration, and the pervading smell of Hollands which disentangled itself from every part of his person, convinced Wat that he had nothing to fear from the crew of this boat.

There remained the other and larger, which was anchored farther out in the water of the little harbor. Cautiously Wat lifted the small double-pronged anchor, which still held their first prize. Scarlet waded in and was helped over the side. The tide swept them slowly round towards the larger vessel in which Wat had heard the breathing of men. Presently their boat went groaning and wheezing against the side-planks of her companion. Wat promptly and silently secured his position with the five-pronged boat-anchor which he had kept beside him for the purpose.

Scarlett and he were on board in a moment, and Wat found himself in the heat of a combat with a man who struck at him with a bar of iron as he came over the side. But the striker's companion did not move to his assistance, and with Wat's hand at his throat and Scarlett's knee on his breast, resistance was very brief indeed. A lantern was burning inside a small coil of ropes. This Wat folded in the cloak with which the sleepy-headed watch had been covering themselves in the bottom of the boat, and let a ray of its light fall on the faces of his captives. Both were known to him. They were the Calf and the Killer, the two inevitable scoundrels of Haxo the Bull's retinue.

"What shall we do with these fellows?" said Wat, looking up, disgustedly.

"Sink them with the boat," said Scarlett, promptly.

Wat shook his head. They lay so still and they looked so helpless—even the Killer, who had struck at Wat, was now resting his head on the thwart in perfect unconsciousness.

"We must get the drunken scoundrels ashore somehow," said Wat.

"We will tie them together with the rope, turn them over the side, and haul them ashore with the slack," said Scarlett; "and if it chance to break, why, so much the better." Without another word the master-at-arms set to work, packing the Calf and the Killer together as if they had been a couple of trussed chickens, exploring their pockets for plunder as he did so.

"Let the poor rascals' wallets alone, Jack!" cried Wat, indignantly.

"Nay, lad," quoth Scarlett, with imperturbable philosophy, possessing himself as he spoke of a clasp-knife and a flagon of strong waters, "the art of forage and requisition from the enemy is of the very essence of war, as the great CondÉ used often to say."

Presently Scarlett paid out the spare rope to Wat, who took it ashore with him. The bodies dropped without a splash into the water, and Wat, aided by the current, soon brought them to land and hauled them out of the water on to the pebbles. Then came Scarlett with a couple of balls of tow for plugging seams, which he thrust with gusto into their mouths.

"That will keep things safe," he said. "I trust neither of these good gentlemen is afflicted with a cold in his head, or else he might be liable to choke, and so find himself in warmer and drier quarters at his awaking!"

But the Calf and the Killer lay like brothers in each other's arms, breathing gently and equably.

There remained but the man on the first and smaller boat. Wat climbed back to him. He had not stirred. Then Lochinvar let a single ray of the Killer's lantern fall on his face. He whistled softly at what he saw, and beckoned Scarlett. It was none other than Wise Jan Pettigrew who lay there, overcome by the potency of the spirits supplied by the Chief of Suliscanna.

Wat now went back to the women. He found them where they had been left, and Kate hurried forward.

"You are not hurt, Wat?" she said, anxiously, taking him by the hand, "nor Scarlett?"

"No," said Wat; "but we must hasten to the boats. We have taken them both safely."

So the two women accompanied him down to the harbor. Scarlett had meanwhile been getting all the useful cargo out of the larger boat, and by this time he had it piled up promiscuously about the unconscious body of Wise Jan.

Before Kate went aboard the elder woman clung to her and kissed her in the darkness.

"My lassie, are ye feared?"

"Feared?" said Kate, "why should I be afraid; am I not all his? I would not be feared to go to the world's end with him."

Bess Landsborough sighed as if that did not greatly improve the case, but she only said: "God keep you, my lassie, and let me see you soon again. I declare ye hae grown to be the very light o' my e'en ever since I took ye first to my arms in the cabin o' the Sea Unicorn."

It was the plan of Wat and Scarlett to take both boats as far out to sea as possible, to scuttle one there, and then to make trial of the dangerous passage of the sea-cave with the smaller and more easily handled vessel.

The tide was now on the strong ebb, and there was a smart swirl of current setting through the narrow entrance of the harbor. Wat cut the rope of the larger boat which alone secured her to the shore.

"God in heaven bless you, good friend of ours!" said Wat, stooping to kiss the rough brave woman who had so loyally helped them, "till we can all be happy together in our own country." "Na," she said, "fare ye weel forever; I hae to bide by Alister, my man. I shall see your faces nae mair. O, my bairn, my bairn!"

And the heartsome, snell—tongued, tender woman turned away with the tears falling fast upon the bosom of her gown.

Wat pushed off in the smaller boat, with the larger towing behind, and, being empty, standing much higher out of the water. The current caught them. The next moment the hiss of the ebb under their counter sank to silence. The talking sound of the ripples along their sides ceased. The boats were going out with the tide, and Wat had nothing to do but sit and guide them.

It was wonderful how clear it was outside, even a short distance away from the loom of the land. They kept close in to the shore, and at first the ebb seemed to favor them, for they made way rapidly, drifting towards the mouth of the goË by which they must enter the water-cavern, and attempt that dangerous passage through to the isle of Fiara.

By keeping close in shore they found themselves in a sort of canal of deep water, at least fifty feet across, beyond which the tide and the underlying rocks strove together on the edge of the Suck, throwing up short foam-crested waves as on a sand-bar.

Wat was now about to attempt a dangerous feat. It was manifestly impossible that they could tow the larger boat through the narrows of the goË. And yet to leave it on the beach was simply to put facilities for pursuit into the hands of men inflamed to the highest degree by the thought of revenge and the anger of their chief, as well as perfectly acquainted with every state of the tide and at home in the swirl of the multitudinous currents.

Wat had resolved to destroy the larger boat on the edge of the tide-race, so that even if she did not sink at once she would be carried far past the island of Suliscanna. He therefore put the skiff in which he and Scarlett were rowing boldly in the direction of the broken water of the tide-race. He well knew the danger, yet for the sake of their future safety on Fiara he resolved to risk it.

The tide fairly thundered as it tore northward, and when they drew near to it time and again Scarlett glanced apprehensively over his shoulder. A thin, misty drizzle of spray as from a water-fall began to fall on their faces. Right ahead of them appeared the foam-flecked back of the Suck, like a river in spate rushing out into the smooth waters of a lake. They could see the breakers ahead of them flashing palely white in the starlight, and hear the bullers crying aloud to each other along the shore.

Suddenly Wat stopped rowing.

"Back water, Jack!" he cried. "I am going into the big boat astern to scuttle her. Hand me the mallet. I must loosen that Portsmouth sea-lawyer." This was a long cross-headed plug which stopped up a hole in the boat's bottom, and which commonly was concealed from sight by the planks covering the bilge at the stern.

Two blows were sufficient to make the "Portsmouth lawyer" quit his grip. The plug had apparently only been adjusted that day, and had indeed never been properly driven home. But Wat was not content with this. He seized the axe which he found on board, and drove it vigorously through the planking of the sides, low down below the water-line, till the salt-water came bubbling up. Then he hauled in the rope by which the boat was attached to the lighter skiff in which Kate and Scarlett sat. As the prow of the scuttled boat touched the stern of the other, Wat stepped on board with the hatchet in his hand. Then with a sharply trenchant "chip" he severed the tow-rope, and the doomed boat instantly fell away towards the white line of the breakers which they had so perilously skirted.