The odds were somewhat against us, but not so much as I feared.  For, if I was single-handed against their six oars, their boat was heavier, and carried four armed men in addition to the oarsmen.

But I saw that Brecqhou would be impossible to us, and moreover must prove but a cul-de-sac if we got there, for at best there were but two sick men there, and they could give us no help.  The house indeed might offer us shelter for a time, but the end would only be delayed.  So I edged off from Brecqhou, thinking to run for Havre Gosselin, and then, with senses quickened to the occasion, I saw that Havre Gosselin would serve us no better.

Port es Saies, Grande Greve, Vermandes, Les Fontaines, Port Gorey,—­I ran them rapidly through my mind and saw the same objection to all.  For in all, the ascent to the high lands was toilsome and difficult, and one, so climbing, could be picked off with a musket from below as easily as a rabbit or a sitting gull.  And that any mercy would be shown, to one of us at all events, I did not for one moment delude myself.  I saw again the round hole bore itself in John Ozanne’s forehead, and Helier Le Marchant’s dead body lying in the boat.

But past Gorey, where the south-west gales have bitten deep into the headlands, there were places where a quick leap might carry one ashore at cost of one’s boat, and then among the ragged black rocks a creeping course might be found where bullets could not follow.

So I turned for Little Sercq, and rowed for dear life and that which was dearer still, and the venomous prow behind followed like a hound on the scent.

The black fangs of Les Dents swept past us.  La Baveuse lay ahead.  If I could get past Moie de Bretagne before they could cripple me I would have good hope, for thereabouts the sea was strewn with rocks and I knew my way as they did not.

They were gaining on me, but not enough for their liking.  I saw the glint of a musket barrel in the sun.

“Lie down, dearest,” I said sharply.

But she had seen it too, and understood.

“I will not,” she said.  “The wind is with us, and I help.”

But in her mind she believed they would not shoot her, and she sat between me and them.

It was no time for argument.  Safety for both of us lay in my arms and legs, and their power to gain a landing and get up the slope before the others could damage them.  I accepted her sacrifice, and set my teeth, and strove to pull harder still.

Young Torode himself was distinguishable in the boat behind, and I knew his passion for her and did not believe he would deliberately attempt her life.  Nor do I now.  Possibly his intent was only to frighten us, but when bullets fly, lives are cheap.

Torode himself stood up in the stern of his boat, and levelled at us, and fired.  But the shot went wide, and I only pulled the harder, and was not greatly in fear, for shooting from a jumping boat is easy, but hitting a jumping mark is quite another matter.