The reports seemed to indicate that of all the parishes, St. Georges was now most free of the apparitions.
“Go home,” he insisted. “You and Bob stay with Jane. Take care of her, lads.” He smiled grimly. “We—all the government—may be moving to St. Georges by morning.”
“But, father,” Jane protested, “what will you do? Stay here?”
“For a while. I’ll drive over by daybreak. I’ll keep the Victoria. You have your cycles; you three ride over. Be careful, lads. You have your revolvers?”
“Yes,” said Don.
We had no time for leave-taking. He was at once called away from us.
We left the Government House shortly after that, got our bicycles and started for the north shore road. Government Hill, where the road climbed through a deep cut in the solid rock, was thronged with carriages, and with cyclists walking up the hill. Most of the traffic was going in one direction—refugees leaving this proximity to the enemy.
We reached the top of the hill, mounted and began the long coast down. In an hour and a half or less we would be home…. Ah, if one could only lift the veil which hides even the immediate future, upon the brink of which we must always stand unseeing!
The north-shore road had the rocky seacoast upon our left—calm moonlit ocean across which in this direction lay the Carolinas some seven hundred miles away. We had gone, perhaps three miles from Hamilton. The road was less crowded here. A group of apparitions had been seen in the neighborhood of the Aquarium, which was ahead of us, and most of the refugees were taking the middle road along Harrington Sound in the center of the island.
But we decided to continue straight on. It was shorter.