"Yes," continued she, braiding her hair. "We all die; but I put my crucifix round his neck. He said we were to come to you. So we left him."
Suddenly she paused and listened eagerly, as if to catch some other sound in the rattle of the firing.
"Listen also, capitan," she said, and pulled me close to her side where we could get a sight of the sea between two huge rocks. Faintly, we heard the unmistakable moan of a steamship's siren. It was the troop ship! she was calling like some blind, lost thing for guidance.
It was now between light and dark, yet to a ship in the open a shore light would show boldly out at sea. The same thought moved both Chloe and myself. She rose to her feet to peer over the shelter, but something moved in me hotly, and I pulled her down on the instant and looked over myself.
Every window of the lighthouse vomited smoke and flashes. Above, the lantern still cast level rays on the screen. But no sooner had my eye fallen on the latter, than I cried out in dismay. A man was crawling hand over hand on the wire and cutting down the sheet. Already a third was hanging loose, and a section of light streamed seaward.
Involuntarily I called out to Chloe and pointed out the sight. Quick as light she whipped up the rifle, but, as she pulled the trigger, I knocked up the muzzle. And I could have done no other thing even if it had lost all. It was a magnificent thing to see a man do; he was a dead man as soon as sighted, so near he hung to us. Chloe slipped in another cartridge. In a second we were struggling for possession of the weapon. At the first grip I cleverly thrust her back on the rock with the barrel across her chest; only for a moment, for, with a swift, sinuous movement, she flung me sideways, and down we went, I underneath. She hissed like a wild cat, her short upper lip held clear of her white teeth, and her eyes a depth of black and fire. I believe in her mad rage she would have worsted me, but, as we grappled, the walls of the creek fairly shivered under the boom of a startling concussion. A heavy gun had been fired to seaward. The war ship had caught the trooper! Another and another explosion followed, and, at the sound, the rifle fire dropped. A shout of triumph rang in the rocks and about us.
We dropped the gun and peered over our rock, and saw a white flag limply hanging from the lighthouse. The man on the wire was crawling painfully back to the other side. I could not help but start up and give him a cheer with the whole of my breath.
Chloe looked in my face, her black eyes big with wonder, a child again.
"That's because he is as brave a man as ever carried a gun," said I.
"Do the Americans always cheer an enemy?" asked she.