As he spoke he gently lowered Isabel to her feet, and supporting her with one hand, held out the other to Captain Simmons.
The sailor gripped it in his huge brown paw.
"Thank God, you're safe, Sir Antony," he exclaimed heartily. "I'd have given anything to be able to lend a hand, but I didn't dare leave the boat. We'd have been done if they'd cut us off."
"Oh, we didn't want any more help," said Tony laughing. "The whole beach is littered with corpses as it is." He paused. "Let me introduce you to Miss Francis," he ended, "the lady I'm going to marry."
For a moment the skipper stared at Isabel in dumb amazement: then with that readiness in emergency which always distinguishes the British sailor, he took off his cap and made her an abrupt bow.
"Pleased to meet you, Miss," he remarked huskily.
At that instant through the entrance to the jetty appeared the dishevelled figure of Jimmy limping cheerfully along between Guy and Bugg.
"Here come the others," said Tony. "We'd better get aboard before there's any more trouble." He dropped down into the boat, and steadied himself in the stern. "You pass Miss Francis down to me, will you, skipper?"
Like a man in a dream, but with the most respectful and solicitous care Captain Simmons lifted up Isabel and lowered her gently into Tony's arms. As her feet touched the planks Bugg, Guy, and Jimmy appeared on the causeway above, and the next moment they too were scrambling hastily down into their places. Captain Simmons followed with the painter.
"Let her go," he exclaimed curtly.