“Oh, here he is,” replied Harrington, turning to the fugitive, who in blind obedience to his unrevoked command, still lay upon the stones near the sea. “Get up, Antony. You’re safe forever, I hope, poor fellow.”
The fugitive instantly rose, and followed the little party over the shingle, delightedly sniffing in the salt air.
“There’s no possibility of those wretches following us in the condition they’re in, and that’s a comfort,” said Wentworth.
“None, whatever,” replied Harrington, in an exhausted voice. “Besides, I capsized all the boats on the island.”
“By Jupiter!” exclaimed Wentworth. “Bagasse—Captain—do you hear that? He has capsized all the boats on the island! Oh, well, there’s no use in saying another word, for of all the trumps in this world you’re the trumpiest, Harrington!”
Bagasse and the Captain joined in with excited questions as to how he did it, and Harrington gave them a hasty account of the whole procedure as they went together along the shingle. Soon amidst great hilarity they reached the Polly Ann, lying bound to the rocks by a grapnel, which the Captain had flung as he rushed from her to Harrington’s rescue. Antony got in first and squatted down forward on the deck of the cuddy, then the others, and last Harrington, who went aft to the tiller and sat down. For a minute all was activity, then amidst the clank and rattle of hoops and halyards up went the mainsail and jib, the reefing nettles were unclewed, the canvas filled languidly, and the boat moved away from the shore with a faint brattle over the dark, lifting swells.
CHAPTER XXXV.
PALLIDA MORS.
For a few minutes they all sat in silence, all but Harrington flushed and throbbing with the excitement of the adventure, and joyous with their success. The storm had broken with that last thunder-clap, the clouds were rolling away, and already the moon appeared in the west in a clear sky, and threw its still lustre upon the drowsy mass of the far distant city, with its dim multitude of spars, and over the vast and wild expanse of lifting and falling water which filled all the open void with its invigorating odor. Low in the east the golden lightnings flashed fitfully, lighting up fairy grottoes in the sullen clouds, and overhead the stars bloomed large and lambent through braided shadows, which were rapidly fleeting away. Far in the distance over the flood, the red revolving beacon glowed a steady ruby, and failed, and glowed again. But the wind had almost died from the magic night, and hardly bellied the sails as it flowed gently from the slumbrous west, and the boat, gliding with a faint wash and ripple through the swells, went but slowly.