Sue climbed over the side of the boat, French followed her, and then Hal.
“Farewell, Ann of the Island,” said the Spaniard softly. “I will return to thee.”
Anny looked at him and he seemed to her very comely. She held out her hand and he raised it to his lips.
“Farewell, sir,” she said, and then followed her lover into the little boat.
“Farewell!” came the deep and almost beautiful voice again; there was the clink of chains and the anchor was weighed, and then the brig, her sails all set, glided out into the channel.
Hal bent his back to the oar he was plying and spoke to the other three in the little rowboat without looking up.
“There goes a damned nuisance off the Isle for a bit,” he said.
French grunted and pulled hard. Sue sighed and looked out to sea, while Anny laughed a little ruefully, and patted Hal’s broad shoulders with her little brown hand.
CHAPTER XIII
“ANNY, are you gone to sleep yet?” Sue sat up in her bed and peered through the darkness to where the other girl lay in a far corner. Her hair was unbound and fell over her coarse night garment like a soft black shawl as she leant forward, speaking almost in a whisper.