Hilda was below, arranging to her requirements the after-cabin which had been allotted to her. The clanking of the winch, and the grinding of the cable as it came in link by link through the hawse-pipe, warned her that the last material bond with Swan Island was about to be broken. She hurried on deck to find the dinghy already hoisted inboard, and the cable almost hove short.
"Good enough for the present," exclaimed Burgoyne. "Start up, Peter. Well, Miss Vivian, we're saying good-bye to the island."
"I'm sorry—and glad," replied Hilda. "We—at least, I have had some good times on Swan Island. Until the pirates came I rather enjoyed it, although the thought that my father and the others were suffering hardships made me feel as if I were wasting time. Not that it could be helped."
For a few moments her gaze rested on the blackened slopes of the fire-devastated part of the island; then her eyes travelled in the direction of the still verdant part where the marauding pirates had not left their mark.
She remained silent for a little longer, feasting her eyes on the picturesque scene, then with a sigh she turned abruptly and looked resolutely seaward.
"All ready, skipper!" shouted Mostyn from below, as the deck quivered under the rapid impulses of the engine.
Going forward, Burgoyne assisted Minalto to break out and heave up the anchor. Then, leaving Jasper to secure the ponderous "mud-hook" in its proper place, Alwyn returned aft to the wheel.
"Easy ahead."
The schooner forged gently through the placid water. A few turns of the wheel steadied her on her course, and in a few minutes she was clear of the inlet and slipping quietly across the lagoon.
Keeping the schooner almost dead slow, Burgoyne nursed her through the narrow southern passage between the reef. Then, porting helm to avoid the ledges off Man-o'-War Island, he steered for the open sea.