Tari's words seemed to break the spell. Loyola, with a shudder, snapped her teeth together and her eyes cleared. Jack drew a deep breath, and relaxing his grip on her nearly crushed hands, patted them gently.
Jim raised a tear-stained face, and with a sudden impulse seized the cowpuncher's brown fist and shook it wildly.
His action was catching, and in another moment the castaways were wringing each others' hands as if for a wager.
"Mercy! mercy!" gasped Loyola, smiling and once more her old self. "Jack's nearly squashed mine flat already."
All anxiety was now at an end, for already the French war-schooner was within a couple of miles, surging along under a heavy press of canvas, whilst the Black Adder, with sheets slacked away and a big square-sail set, was making herself scarce as fast as ever she could.
"The dago's hittin' it high on the back trail shore enuff," commented Broncho, as he watched the flying enemy. "That ornery maverick is quittin' the play without a sou-markee o' profit. He ain't out o' the wood yet, though. I'm allowin' the war-boat'll jump into his wheeltracks some swift when he savvys the vivid lead-slingin' he done cut loose on us. It shore oughter poke spurs into him."
As the castaways watched the two schooners with eager eyes, Tari leaned forward, and stretching out his disengaged hand, tapped Jack gently on the shoulder.
The latter turned round and found the Kanaka fairly beaming upon him.
"My pleni no more blind. Bad eye-debble him go 'way, no likee bullets. Tari heap glad."
Jack stared at him with open mouth, unable to speak, whilst Loyola, a whole world of tenderness in her big brown eyes, rubbed her cheek caressingly against his shoulder, whispering brokenly, "Thank God! Oh, thank God!" and her whole heart was in her voice.