The sailors kept calling now from the boat, eagerly, imperiously. It was necessary for them to return. Patsy was placed on board and Stair wished to go back and help to defend the island. He could not leave Eben McClure thus. But Patsy was out on the shingle in a moment. If Stair went back so should she. Eben McClure had given her a letter which, he said, would explain everything. It was only to be read aboard the Good Intent after the anchor was up.
So they put about and in a few minutes they were having their hands wrung off by Captain Penman on his own quarter-deck.
"I am glad to see you," he cried. "I thought I heard firing. They must have been pretty close—not much sea-way in your last tack, eh? But come below. You will find everything in my cabin. The owner said most particular that it was to be made all spick and span for you. Honoured I am to see you again on my ship, Mistress Garland!"
As they turned the corner of Isle Rathan, Stair and Patsy could see that the sham defences had been carried with a rush, and that something lay very still behind the hastily-dug trench. Patsy's keen eyes noted that it was still wearing Stair's bonnet.
She turned and ran below weeping bitterly.
"Oh, Stair, they do not love you better than I!" she wailed as she clung passionately to him; "no—not though they die for you, and I am only a drag on you. For I love you! I love you—and I too would die for you!"
Her arms were about her husband's neck and her lips were pressed for the first time to his.
"Dear," he answered softly, "perhaps you were meant to live for me!"
The letter which Eben had given to Patsy was a very simple one.