and striking out on foot directly across the narrow neck of land.  The Namur, unless her position had been changed since darkness set in, was not so far out from shore as to make swimming to her a dangerous feat; and I could approach and board her with far less chance of discovery in that manner, than by the use of a boat.  The watch on deck would undoubtedly be a vigilant one, yet no eye could detect through that darkness—­unless by sheer accident—­a submerged swimmer, cautiously advancing with silent strokes.  The greater danger would come after I had attained the deck, wet to the skin.

The sharp bow of the dory ran up on the soft sand of the beach, and I stepped ashore, hauling the light boat after me beyond the reach of the waves.  The night remained calm and still, although the scudding clouds were thickening overhead, until scarcely a single star remained visible.  The sea behind me was overhung by a black curtain, yet, by bending low, I could look along the surface for some distance where the heaving water reflected from wave to wave what little light there was.  The beach was a narrow one, and only a few feet away the neck of land became elevated into a leveled crest, thickly covered with trees, their upper branches dimly visible from where I stood.  Judging from the trend of the coast, it would be necessary for me to strike directly across to the opposite shore, but in this journey special caution was not required.  There would be no one in the midst of this desolate region to interfere with my progress, or be alarmed by any noise I might make.  Close to shore as the Namur lay, no ordinary sound from the land could be heard aboard, even in the silence of night, nor was it likely the crew would be watchful in that direction.  Unquestionably the entire attention of the deck watch at this hour would be concentrated on the expected return of their expedition around the distant point—­seeking the glimpse of a white sail above the black water.

To the best of my recollection the bark floated with bow pointing toward the open sea.  The sweep of the current about the point was inshore, making the drift of the vessel strong against the anchor hawser.  This would naturally bring her with broadside to the eastward, from which direction the absent boat must return.  If this proved correct then, in all probability, the deck watch would largely be gathered on that side, even the attention of the officer more or less drawn in that direction.  No doubt they had orders to be ready for instant departure the moment the approaching boat was sighted, and the lookout for it would be keen.  It was, as I stood there, revolving these matters in my mind, with eyes endeavoring to pierce the surrounding darkness, and ears strained to detect the slightest sound, that there came to me the first real consciousness of the reckless nature of this adventure upon which I had so lightly embarked.  Surely it was but the dream of a crazed man, foredoomed