“No.”
“Quick! Get hold of the grapnel. No. On board, lad, quick!”
“Halt! Who goes there?” cried a voice close by from where the darkness was thickest.
For answer Bart cut the grapnel line, made sure that his companion was in the boat, and then, exerting his great strength, he ran out with it through the shallow water, just as there was a vivid flash of lightning, revealing, about twenty yards away, a group of soldiers standing on the rough shore, just beyond the reach of the tide.
“Halt!” was shouted again, followed by a warning. And then followed a series of rapid orders; four bright flashes darted from as many muskets, and the bullets whistled overhead, the intense darkness which had followed the lightning disturbing the soldiers’ aim.
Orders to re-load were heard; but the boat was well afloat by now, and Bart had crawled in, the tiller had been seized, and the sail was rapidly hoisted, the wind caught it at once, and by the time another flash of lightning enabled the patrol to make out where the boat lay, it was a hundred yards from shore, and running rapidly along the coast.
A volley was fired as vainly as the first, and as the bullets splashed up the water, Bart laughed.
“They may fire now,” he said. “We shall be a hundred yards farther before they’re ready again.”
They sailed on into the darkness for quite two hours, during which the lightning ceased, and the mutterings of the thunder were heard no more. But though a careful look-out was kept—and Bart felt that they had pretty well calculated the position of the schooner—they could not find her, and the sail was lowered down.
“We’ve gone quite far enough,” growled Bart. “Where’s that light that Dinny was to show?”