He rose from his knee and stood looking out at the boats below turning the water into silvery blue as port fire after port fire was burned, while others lit up the man-of-war from which the boats had come.
“I’m glad it was not a bullet,” said the governor quietly, as his men below searched the rocks and shouted—now to their companions who paid out the rope, now answered hails from the boats.
“Yes; one man’s enough to shoot a night,” said the surgeon grimly.
“Beg pardon, sir,” said a warder, coming up, lantern in hand, and saluting.
“Yes; what is it?”
“I don’t think you’ll find the other poor chap, sir.”
“Why?”
“Blades, who was one of the men here first, and tired, says there was a shriek just before they heard the splash in the water.”
“Tut—tut—tut!” ejaculated the governor. “Poor wretch! Where is Blades?”
“Here, sir,” said a man who was holding one of the ropes.