jerked our heads over our shoulders we could see the long green slopes of
the Eperquerie beckoning us on, and the rugged brown crests of the Grande
and Petite Moies bobbing cheerfully above the tumbling waves, and Le Tas on
the other side standing like a monument of Sercq's unconquerable
stubbornness.

And these things spoke to us, and called to us, and braced us with hope,
though our flanks clapped together with the strain of that long pull, and
our legs trembled, and our hands were cramped and blistered.

Then, of a sudden, Le Marchant jerked a cry, and I saw what he saw--the
topsail of a schooner rising white in the sun above the sky-line, and to
our hearts there was menace in the very look of it.

We looked round at Sercq, at the cracks in the headlands, and the green
slopes smiling in the sunshine, and the white tongues of the waves as they
leaped up the cliffs.

"Five miles!" gasped Le Marchant.

"She must be twelve or more. We'll do it."

"Close work!"

And we bent and rowed as we had never rowed in our lives before.

The schooner had evidently all the wind she wanted. She rose very rapidly.
To our anxious eyes she seemed to sweep along like a sun-gleam on a cloudy
day.... Both her topsails were clear to us.... We could see her jibs
swollen with venom, and past them the great sweep of her mainsails with the