“Why didn’t you say this before, man?”
“Didn’t like to, sir; and besides, I thought the others knew.”
“One does not seem to have been enough,” whispered the surgeon. “Aynsley, I did not know your men could shoot so well. Hah! the stretchers.”
For lanterns were seen approaching, and directly after a party came up with the ambulance apparatus. The two convicts were lifted on and borne off along the path traversed only a short time before by their victims—one of them groaning piteously; the other lying silent and calm, gazing straight up at the black darkness, while his lips moved slightly from time to time.
“Most unfortunate! most unfortunate!” muttered the governor as soon as he was left alone with his subordinates. “Poor, blind fools! how they rush upon their fate! Well,” he shouted, “see him?”
“No, sir. Boats are coming back, sir.”
This was plain enough, and a few minutes later both rowed up in close with fresh blue lights illuminating the scene.
“Ahoy! Who’s up yonder?” shouted a naval officer.
“I am,” cried the governor.
“Oh, you, Sir William! Well, sir, I’ll keep my men on if you like, but no swimmer could have got to shore from hereabouts. If there is a man living he must be somewhere on these rocks.”