Up went Suarez over the rail. He found the top-most rungs of the ladder. As he descended, the revolver followed his eyes. When his head was level with the deck the order came:
“Take the dog and go down.”
“I cannot, señorita.”
“You must try. You are going down, dead or alive.”
He did try. Joey scuffled a little, but Suarez caught him by the neck, and made shift to descend. Elsie was already on the swaying ladder when Boyle’s voice rang out sharply from the spar-deck:
“Below there! Who is there?”
“I, Mr. Boyle,” she answered.
“You, Miss Elsie? Where are you?”
“Here; not so far away.”
She was descending all the time. She had cast loose the rope which fastened the canoe alongside, and her difficulty was to hold the ladder and at the same time, by clinging to the mast, to prevent the canoe from slipping away with the tide. The revolver she gripped between her teeth by the butt.