"Oh, James, think of her—think of the poor demented creature!" sobbed Mrs. Day.
"Think of her! Yes, that be right enough; but I must think of thee, lass, and the bairns as well! I tell 'ee it means ruin! As well row straight into the jail's gates as go ashore to them wolves. No! I'm sorry, Jane; I'm main sorry; but I can't do it—for your sake."
There was that tone in the man's voice which quiets even the strongest and most determined of women, and his wife sank back and resigned herself.
The boat swung round, and Day, setting his teeth, pulled for the open sea.
"We'll never reach the schooner," panted Mrs. Day hoarsely.
"I'll risk it," he responded grimly. "Better trust ourselves to the open all night than run into the midst of the sharks there," and he nodded toward the shore.
"And this poor lady?"
He glanced at Margaret.
"Well, I'm but doing her bidding, beant I?" he retorted. "Didn't she pray and beseech me not to take her back? There, be easy! I've no breath for chattering, woman. Keep the lantern dark, and steer her straight out."
As he spoke there came another flash from the shore, and a rocket sped upward to the black sky.