A searchlight was playing over the water, moving at intervals, then it would become stationary. The vessel from which it emanated was a long way out, yet its light hovered persistently, as though its whole purpose was riveted upon the definite area which lay in full view from where he stood.
Vita, too, was gazing out to sea. But though the play of the lights caught and held her attention, they had no power to sway the trend of teeming thoughts which were passing through her brain. The things she beheld meant nothing to her. They could mean nothing. These were her last moments on the land she loved—the land which was the home of the man who had changed her life from a troubled and anxious existence to a dream of bliss such as she had believed impossible. She had sold herself at the price of life. Life? She had gone back again to existence a thousand times more dreadful than the worst nightmare could have conjured. Yes, her father was safe, her beloved father. All their plans would be the safer for their going. She would be free to witness, in due regularity, the progress of future seasons. She had done her duty, and her best. But oh, what a best!
There were moments as she stood there waiting when she could have flung her arms out and screamed till the echoes of the cove rang again. There were moments when she could have flung herself upon the angular figure she knew and felt to be standing behind her, and impotently torn at his hated flesh. He was her master, her future arbiter, the man to whose caresses she must submit.
Quite suddenly her father raised one thin, pointing hand.
"The boat," he said. And Vita's thoughts were swept aside for the moment, and her comprehending gaze became fixed upon a dim object sweeping through the jaws of the cove. The darkness of the place made it impossible to distinguish its outline. It was a shadow, a mere shadow against the moving lights beyond.
Once it was past the jaws, however, the throb of its engine beat against the rocky walls and echoed again. It was as though half-a-dozen engines were thrashing the water. Now, too, a headlight shone out.
Suddenly Von Hertzwohl caught up the lighted lantern at his feet.
"Ach!" he cried. "The madmen! They are heading here—for this light. One would think they had never made the spit before." He turned. "Quick. The spit, or they will drive on the rocks."
He ran along the beach, followed by Vita and Von Salzinger. In a few moments he was standing on the extremity of the rocky spit, waving his lantern and calling instructions.
"Gott in Himmel!" he cried. "Slow, slow. You will break on sunken rocks. Are you mad? This way. Ach! Slower, slower. So. Easy. Bring her nose round. So. Easy. Now!"