... the day was dying:
Sudden the sun shone forth; its beams were lying
Like boiling gold on ocean, strange to see;
And on the shattered vapours, which defying
The power of light in vain, tossed restlessly
In the red heaven like wrecks in a tempestuous sea.
‘It is you,’ she said, suddenly turning towards Ernest with a look of praise and gratitude almost childlike in its absence of reserve. ‘How can I, how will my father, ever thank you for this day’s deeds? I had given up all for lost; that is, as far as that foolish Harriet was concerned. They should have torn me limb from limb before they should have placed us in their boat. Then I determined to fight for Harriet, to—yes! I believe that is the word, for I really felt the real fighting spirit all over—it is not such a very unpleasant sensation as one would think. I was quite exaltée, and if I had had a revolver, I think the Count would have paid forfeit with his life, whatever might have come after. Papa would kill him now if they met.’
‘Is there no fear of such a meeting?’
‘None, thank Heaven!’ said Antonia, ‘though he deserves the worst in the shape of punishment. Sydney has seen the last of him. Look!’ she cried, as every sail on the long, low, beautiful schooner filled as if by magic, and the graceful craft, leaning to the full force of the strong south wind, swept forth towards the sea-way.
‘He is safe from pursuit,’ she continued, ‘even if tidings could have been sent at the instant. With this breeze behind him, there is nothing in Sydney which would not be hull down behind the White Falcon before day broke. Of course he will steer for one of the northern ports, or else for the Islands. They must have had every sail tied with spun-yarn, so as to be ready to unfurl at a moment’s notice. To you alone, and to that brave Jack Windsor, it is due that we are not miserable captives in yonder flying bark. I shudder to think of it.’