Down the road, like the wind, raced the band of Marion’s men; Laura, under escort of Nat and David Collins, rode well ahead, as Tom knew that they would not meet any of the enemy in that direction. The road skirted the bay, and from across the quiet waters could be seen the lights of the British ships.
Tom had expected pursuit to be hotly made, but to his surprise there was no evidence of it. A little reflection told him the reason for this. The plantation was a considerable distance below the city, and the officers attending the masque had, for the most part, come in carriages. Therefore no chargers were available for a chase, at least not sufficient to mount a force capable of coping with our adventurers. No sound was heard by Tom or Cole, who rode behind, alert for anything that might happen; the ringing hoof-beats of their own party were the only noises that disturbed the silence.
But, at length, even this ceased; the cavalcade had been brought to a sudden halt, and Tom and Cole rode forward to learn the cause of it. Nat and Dave Collins were waiting for him; Laura, patting her pawing horse’s neck, was beside them.
“What’s the matter?” asked Tom.
“As we rounded the bend in the road,” said David Collins, “I thought I saw a sudden gleam of light from the water, close to shore.”
“I saw it, too,” said Nat, his brother. “It seemed as though it was from a boat.”
“It was in a boat,” put in Laura. “I saw it plainly. And the boat was full of men.”
“Remain where you are,” directed Tom. “Nat, I leave you in charge. Dave, you and Cole come with me; we’ll see what all this means. It may be a boat’s crew from one of the vessels of war which has been somehow signaled that we are coming by this road.”
They left their horses in care of their comrades and cautiously advanced; as they neared the beach they could hear the water lapping on the sand—yes, and now they caught the undoubted murmur of voices.
“We’ll have to put the boats’ noses up on the beach and wait for them,” said a voice.