“We must have made more than a mile and a half,” replied the Captain. “You don’t see anything, Crockston?”
“Nothing; nevertheless I have good eyes, but we shall get there all right. They don’t suspect anything out there.”
These words were hardly finished when the flash of a gun gleamed for an instant through the darkness, and vanished in the mist.
“A signal!” cried James Playfair.
“Whew!” exclaimed Crockston, “it must have come from the citadel. Let us wait.”
A second, then a third shot was fired in the direction of the first, and almost the same signal was repeated a mile in front of the shore-boat.
“That is from Fort Sumter,” cried Crockston, “and it is the signal of escape. Urge on the men; everything is discovered.”
“Pull for your lives, my men!” cried James Playfair, urging on the sailors, “those gun-shots cleared my route. ‘The Dolphin’ is eight hundred yards ahead of us. Stop! I hear the bell on board. Hurrah, there it is again! Twenty pounds for you if we are back in five minutes!”
The boat skimmed over the waves under the sailors’ powerful oars. A cannon boomed in the direction of the town. Crockston heard a ball whiz past them.
The bell on the “Dolphin” was ringing loudly. A few more strokes and the boat was alongside. A few more seconds and Jenny fell into her father’s arms.