“Starboard, a little,� said Fay. “No, the other
oar!� he snapped. “That’s right. Make for the island. I’m going to maroon you there.�
The German rose as the boat grounded. He turned and stared downward at the menace of the revolver. It was compelling. The steady finger through the trigger-guard, the eye that flashed over the sights, meant death, and quickly.
“Get over the bow and wade!�
Fay said no more. He crouched by lifting himself partly from the seat. He watched Dutch Gus leap from the boat and sink to his waist in mud and water. He turned the gun and handed it to Saidee Isaacs.
Taking the oars, he drove the light craft far off the shore and in the direction of the mainland. Each time he feathered the blades he saw the lone figure standing by the rocks. A clenched fist was raised to the overhanging pall of fog and sea vapor. A horrible curse rolled over the waters.
Fay turned away and glanced into Saidee Isaacs’ olive face. She smiled with her eyes. She pointed over the bow. He nodded and bent his back. The boat reached an inlet between two high promontories. He guided it ashore and inboarded the oars with a jerk of his wrists.
She stepped out and seized the painter. Fay sprang over the seats and assisted her. They stood on a shelving beach which bore the marks of fisher-boats’ keels.
“We’ll go up there,� he said, pointing to a path which wound around the sea end of the northern promontory.
She followed him. He turned now and then and