II
So much a far scream told them.
"We're seen!" panted Kit. "Now whistle for the wind, my boy, and hand me that musket."
The water was slopping all about the lugger. Empty as a barrel she began to rock to the rocking of the tide. A puff would launch her.
The boy glanced seaward.
Over there was that white glimmer, clearer now. It was like the arm of a drowning woman flinging up for help. The glimpse of it inspired the boy.
"I'm coming, sir," he called across the waters. "One more fight first."
He hitched his belt. Now he had no doubt of the issue. Here his friend, the sea, was beside him, whispering to him, loving him, taunting him. She was his hope, his heart, his strength. And for the first time it flashed upon the lad what the fight was really for. It was for her, the World's Woman. She went to the Victor, and she was on his side: for he was England, and England had won her first, and, true woman that she was, she clove to her first conqueror.