For a short distance our boats kept together, probably because we were all more intent on watching the fire than we were in making our escape. Soon there came an explosion, followed in rapid succession by five others. Stones and logs were tossed high in the air; the great tower tottered and then fell with a crash which sounded loud above the storm; sparks and embers flew in every direction; the flames burst out anew as though they would devour everything before them.
“She’s destroyed!” I shouted, but if the lieutenant heard me he made no answer. I glanced in the direction his boat had been but a moment before, and saw that it had disappeared, lost in the darkness.
“Give way, my lads!” I said to my own men, and they obeyed with a will.
As we went up the bay I could see signs that the enemy were aroused. Lights flashed to and fro on the decks of the frigates. The one nearest the Beacon House fired a cannon, and then put out a boat which hastened to the shore.
“They’ll soon know the fire was not an accident,” I remarked to my boatswain, “and may attempt to follow us.”
“It will do them no good, sir,” he answered. “We have too long a start for them to overhaul us. Our fear is yonder as we cross out to the channel. If I mistake not, one of the ships has hoisted her anchor, and is coming up this way.”
I looked in the direction he indicated, and saw by her rapidly moving lights that one of the vessels had certainly cast off her moorings and was running up the bay.
“We must reach and cross the channel before her,” I declared. “Heave away, lads!”
“Aye! aye! sir!” they responded, and bent to their oars.
Without waiting to go higher up the bay, I had our helm changed to carry us out towards Cumming’s Point. But fast as we went, the ship came faster. It seemed also that she was shaping her course to head us off.