And the good ship Rose went westward ho! and came in due time to La Guayra in the Indies, the highest cliff on earth, some seven thousand feet of rock parted from the sea by a narrow strip of bright green lowland.  Amyas and his company are at last in full sight of the spot in quest of which they have sailed four thousand miles of sea.  Beyond the town, two or three hundred feet up the steep mountain side, is a large white house, with a royal flag of Spain flaunting before it.  That must be the governor’s house; that must be the abode of the Rose of Torridge.  There are ships of war in the landing-place.

Amyas’s plan was to wait till midnight, attack the town on the west, plunder the government storehouses, and then fight their way back to their boats.  To reach the governor’s house seemed impossible with the small force at their disposal.

But Frank would not have their going away without doing the very thing for which they came.

“I will go up to that house, Amyas, and speak with her!” he said.

Then Amyas, Cary, and Brimblecombe drew lots as to which of them should accompany him, and the lot fell upon Amyas Leigh.

At midnight Amyas went on deck, and asked for six volunteers.  Whosoever would come should have double prize money.

“Why six only, captain?” said an old seaman.  “Give the word, and any and all of us will go up with you, sack the house, and bring off the treasure and the lady before two hours are out!”

“No, no, my brave lads!  As for treasure, it is sure to have been put all safe into the forts; and, as for the lady, God forbid that we should force her a step without her own will.”

The boat with Frank, Amyas, and the six seamen reached the pebble beach.  There seemed no difficulty about finding the path to the house, so bright was the moon.  Leaving the men with the boat, they started up the beach, with their swords only.

“She may expect us,” whispered Frank.  “She may have seen our ship, and some secret sympathy will draw her down towards the sea to-night.”

They found the path, which wound in zig-zags up the steep, rocky slope, easily.  It ended at a wicket-gate, and they found the gate was open when they tried it.

“What is your plan?” said Amyas.

“I have none.  I go where I am called—­love’s willing victim.”

Amyas was at his wits’ end.  A light was burning in a window on the upper story; twenty black figures lay sleeping on the terrace.

Frank saw the shadow of the Rose against the window.  She came down, and he made a wild appeal to her.

“Your conscience!  Your religion—­”

“No, never!  I can face the chance of death, but not the loss of my husband.  Go!  For God’s sake leave me!”

Frank turned, and Amyas dragged him down the hill.  Both were too proud to run, but the whole gang of negroes were in pursuit, and stones were flying.