The sun had set some time, but there was blood and fire on the horizon, clouds seamed with flame, and streaks of burning crimson.
He cautiously descended the stairs, and crossing the yard, made his way over the pasture to the landing place. He knew the path well. He could have trod it in the darkest night without error. He came to the sea-wall, and there he laid Mehalah, whilst he groped for his boat, and unloosed the rope that attached it to the shore.
He returned, and took up the still unconscious girl.
He felt her feeble breath on his cheek as he carried her, but he did not see the spot of returning colour in her face. He was eager, and hasty. He knew no delay, but pressed on. He carried her into the boat and took his oars and began to row, with her lying in the bottom.
The tide was running out. His instinct guided him.
The bells of Mersea tower were dancing a merry peal.
The windows of the 'Leather Bottle' were lighted up, and the topers were drinking prosperity to the married pair.
George De Witt was making his way to the Mussets, little conscious that Mehalah was lying in a boat, stunned, and being carried out seaward.
Presently Elijah felt sure by the fresher breeze and increased motion that he was out of the fleet in deep water. Then he quietly shipped his oars.
He lifted Mehalah, and drew her into his arms and laid her against his heart.