At last the head-man shouted, and the paddles ceased.  They were waiting for a smooth.  Roller after roller swept under them, and the boat rode them dizzily, but kept her place just beyond the outer edge of the surf.  From over his shoulder, the head-man watched the charging seas with animal intentness.  Then with a sudden shriek he gave the word, and the paddles stabbed the water into spray.  The heavy boat rushed forward again, and a great towering sea rushed after her.  It reared her up, stern uppermost, and passed, leaving her half swamped by its foaming passage; and then came another sea, and the boat broached to and spilt.  The Krooboys jumped like black frogs from either gunwale, and Kettle jumped also, and made his way easily to the sand, being used to this experience.  But Sheriff was pulled on to the beach with difficulty, and the Jew was hauled there in a state verging on the unconscious.  He looked at the fearsome surf, and shuddered openly.  “How shall we get off again?” he gasped.

“More swimming,” said Kettle tersely.  “And perhaps not manage it at all.  You’d better give up the game, and go off decently to-morrow morning from the Custom House wharf.”

But Mr. White, whatever might be the list of his failings, was certainly possessed of dogged pluck, and as he had got that far with his enterprise, did not intend to desert it.  He got rid of the sea-water that was within him, and resolutely led the way to the cable station, which loomed square and solid through the dusk.  Sheriff followed, and Captain Kettle, with his hands in his pockets, brought up the rear.  The Krooboys, according to their orders, stayed on the beach, brought in the boat, collected her furniture, and got all ready for relaunching.

White seemed to know the way as if he had been there before.  He went up to the building, entered through an open door, and strode quietly in his rubber-soled shoes along a dark passage.  At the end was a room in partial darkness, and a man who watched a spot of light which darted hither and back, and between whiles wrote upon paper.  To him White went up, and clapped a cold revolver muzzle against the nape of his neck.

“Now,” he said, “I want the loan of your instrument for about an hour.  If you resist, you’ll be shot.  The noise of the shot will bring out the other men on the station, and they’ll be killed also.  There are plenty of us here, and we are well armed, and we intend to have our own way.  If you are not anything short of a fool, you’ll go and sit on that chair, and keep quiet till you’re given leave to talk.”

“I don’t think I’ll argue it with you,” said the operator coolly.  He got up and sat where he was told, and Kettle, according to arrangement, stood guard over him.  “I suppose you malefactors know,” he added, “that there are certain pains and penalties attached to this sort of amusement, and that you are bound to get caught quite soon, whether you shoot me or let me go?”