Now Lamont suddenly recalled it.

“By the way, Governor,” he said, “the relief boat you so thoughtfully sent for is on her way here.  She should reach the rock at almost any minute now.  In fact, I fancy we’ve little time to waste if we want to avoid a brush.  It would be a pity to be nabbed now at the eleventh hour.  Good-by, once more.”

But the Governor had stepped between him and the boat.

“I—­ I am an old man,” he said, speaking with manifest embarrassment.  “I was sent to take charge of this prison as punishment for refusing to join a Jew massacre plot.  Governorship here means no more nor less than a life imprisonment.  My wife and children are on a little estate of mine in Sweden.  It is twelve years since I have seen them.  I—­”

“If this story is a ruse to detain us—­”

“No!  No!” protested the Governor, and there was no mistaking his pathetic, eager sincerity.  “But—­ but I shall be shot—­ or locked in one of the cells and the water turned on—­ for letting you escape.  Won’t you take me with you?  I will work my passage.  Take me as far as Stockholm.  I shall be free there—­ free to join my wife and to live forever out of reach of the Grand Dukes.  Take me—­”

“Jump in!” ordered Jack, coming to a sudden resolution.  “Heaven knows I would not condemn my worst enemy to a perpetual life on this rock.  And you’ve been pretty decent to us, according to your lights.  Jump aboard, we’ve no time to waste.”

Nor did the Governor waste time in obeying.  The others followed, and the boat shoved off.  But scarcely had the oars caught the water when around the promontory came a large man-o’-war’s launch, a rapid-fire gun mounted on her bows.  She was manned by about twenty men in Russian police uniform.

“From the ‘tramp,’” commented Alan excitedly.  “And her gun is trained on us.”

“Get down to work!” shouted Jack to the straining oarsmen.

“No use!” groaned Kempt.  “She’ll cross within a hundred yards of us.  There’s no missing at such close range and on such a quiet sea.  What a fool I was to—­”

The launch was, indeed, bearing down on them despite the rowers’ best efforts, and must unquestionably cut them off before they could reach the yacht.

Alan drew his revolver.

“We’ve no earthly show against her,” he remarked quietly, “and it seems hard to ‘go down in sight of port.’  But let’s do what we can.”

“Put up that pop-gun,” ordered Kempt.  “She will sink us long before you’re in range for revolver work.  I’ll run up my handkerchief for a white flag.”

“To surrender?”

“What else can we do?”

“And be lugged back to the rock, all of us?  Not I, for one!”

The launch was now within hailing distance, and every man aboard her was glaring at the helpless little yacht-gig.

“Wait!”

It was the Governor who spoke.  Rising from his seat in the stern, he hailed the officer who was sighting the rapid-fire gun.