pull of the oars brought it nearer.

There was time indeed for catastrophe yet, and our anxieties would not be
ended till Creux harbour was in sight. For, from Cherbourg to Sercq was but
forty miles,--but, fortunately for us, forty miles which included La Hague
and the Race,--and if Torode could pick up a fair wind he could do it in
four hours--or, with all obstacles, in five, or at most six--whereas,
strain as we might, and we were not fresh to begin with, we could not
possibly cover the distance in less than seven hours. So, given a wind, the
race might prove a tight one, and, as we rowed, our eyes were glued to the
northern sky-line, where La Hague was growing dimmer with every lurch of
the boat, and our hearts were strong with hope if not entirely free from
fear.

We toiled like galley-slaves, for though the danger was not visible as yet,
for aught we knew it might appear above the horizon at any moment, and then
our chances would be small indeed. Had any eye watched our progress it
must have deemed us demented, for we rowed across a lonely sea as though
death and destruction followed close in our wake.

For myself, I know my heart was just one dumb prayer for help in this hour
of need. We had come through so much. We had escaped so many perils; so
very much depended on our winning through to Sercq; and failure at this
last moment would be so heart-breaking. Yes, my heart boiled with unspoken
prayers and strange vows, which I fear were somewhat in the nature of
bargainings,--future conduct for present aid,--but which did not seem to me
out of place at the moment, and which, in any case, did me no harm, for a
man works better on prayers than on curses, I'll be bound.

Sercq at last grew large in front of us, and our hearts were high. When we