She rested her chin on my shoulder, she reached a hand down to mine.  “You will not be alone, dear—­never, never again.”

A voice from above recalled me.  “Guy!  O Guy!  If you can make shift to come on deck, you would do well.  We are in close quarters and like to be yet closer.”

I looked up, not in full time, but in time to catch a glint of his eyes.  Pain in his voice, suffering in his eyes—­never till that moment did it come to me that this whole cruise had been but a wooing of Shiela Cunningham.  And I, who owed him everything in life, I had stood in his way.  And even with Shiela there my heart ached for him.

VI

When I made the deck I saw that off each beam was an American frigate, and ahead was the land—­the coast of Georgia.

No doubt of what they were after.  The Bess was a much-desired prize, and known as far as a long glass could shape her lines or pick her rig.  “But there is yet time, sir,” I suggested, “to put about, run between them, and escape to the open sea.”

“There is time,” he answered curtly.  He had not looked fairly at me since I came on deck.  “But I am going to land our passengers, and without risk of their capture.”

I thought that he had in mind to hold up for the mouth of the Savannah River, and run on up the river to the city.  He could do that, though it would mean the final abandonment of the brigantine and, most likely, the identification of Captain Blaise with Mr. Villard of Villard Manor.

Though these were two fast-sailing frigates, we were outrunning them, not rapidly, but sufficiently to make it certain, while yet we were a mile offshore, that we would easily make the river entrance, if such was his intention.  But evidently not so, for he now ordered the gig ready for lowering and had Mr. Cunningham’s strong-box brought on deck.

“Shall I also take that package you spoke of?” asked Mr. Cunningham.

“Surely.  It is ready in my room.”  And he went below and came up with it, a great beribboned and bewaxed envelope, saying, “Deliver it when the time comes, Gad.  Or wait, let Miss Shiela do it,” and handed it to her instead.

She blushed vividly and placed it in her portmanteau.  “Thank you, sir,” she said.

I had difficulty in keeping my eyes off her, even though I was again acting as first officer of the Bess, and my first duty just now was to keep an eye on the two ships and render judgment as to their intentions.

“That fellow to the south seems to have decided to bid up for the Savannah River entrance on the next tack, sir,” I reported.

“Yes.”  He was busy with the Cunninghams and spoke absently, though it was also likely that he saw better than I did what the man-o’-war would be at.  “That’s good.  Let him stretch that tack all he pleases.”

“Then we are not to stand in yet, sir?”