“It was a strange scene that chapel blazing with light, as, dropping his cloak, Sir Roger strode into its centre, dressed in the uniform of his own regiment of Yeomanry.
“‘Away with him,’ cried the priest, and a score of blades leaped from their scabbards.
“‘Silence, gentlemen,’ said the baronet, no way dismayed, his voice sounding clear and sonorous above the tumult, ‘the place is surrounded. I have but to raise my voice, and the soldiers enter. Disperse while there is yet time.’
“The conspirators looked into each other’s faces with blank amazement. Some moved towards the door of the chapel and, returning, told that men wearing the Royal uniform were outside.
“‘It shall not be said that we, the last remnants of the faithful in this land, put our hands to the plough and turned back,’ exclaimed Robert Pugh of Penrhyn. ‘Philip Wynn, fall in our men. Forward, gentlemen.’”
“Is that the star you mean, Enrico?” asked Isabel, interrupting the tale, as she pointed to the westward; “it does not set, and seems larger than it was. Can it be on land?”
Midnight, the hour fixed for the outbreak, had long passed, and all was as yet quiet on board. The voices of the speakers ceased as both concentrated their gaze on what seemed a red star, for Hughes did not like to wake the sleepers for nothing.
A form moved at the far end of the raft. It was the man Gough, who raised himself gently on his elbow, listening cautiously. Hearing no noise save the swish of the waves, he pushed one or two of the men who, wrapped in their coats, were fast asleep, and then throwing the covering from him, he rose. The starlight gleamed from the blade of his long knife as he stole his way round the cases which formed the sea wall of the cabin. Step by step he advanced, but just as he rounded them, Hughes rose, his back turned towards the man.
“I will wake the captain, Isabel. I know not what it is.”
With a loud curse, the ruffian raised his arm, and the blow fell, with such force, that it precipitated Hughes, who was wholly off his guard, into the sea.