"But I can," said I. "If you'll put the helm down, ma'am, and hold in, I think she'll almost fetch Penlee Point. I don't want to get you into trouble."
We all listened. And sure enough the sound of oars was approaching again out of the darkness.
"Mr. Pengelly can lower me overside," I urged, "as soon as we're near shore. It's safest in every way."
"So best," she answered shortly, and again put the Glad Tidings about. I began to pluck off my clothes.
The boat was evidently watching us: for, dark as the evening had grown, almost as soon as our helm went down the sound of oars ceased astern—to begin again a few seconds later, but more gently, as if someone had given the order for silence. O.P. peered under the slack of the mainsail.
"There she is!" he muttered. "Tucker will be trying to force her alongside under our lee." He picked up and uncoiled a spare rope. "You'd best take hold o' this and let me slip ye over the starboard side, forra'd there, as she goes about. Bain't afeard, hey?"
"I'm not afraid of anything but being caught, sir."
"Sarah will take her in close: there's plenty water."
"O.P.," said the voice aft.
"My angel."