The way was clear, and he ran at a pace which would not have
disgraced a college sprinter. Once, glancing back over his
shoulder, he saw the Bahaman trying blasphemously to
disentangle his legs from those of the prostrate and wriggling
Davy. He saw, too, Roke pawing at his cut face with both
hairy hands, and heard him bellowing confused orders which
nobody seemed to understand.

Arrived at the dock Gavin saw that Standish's launch was gone.
So, too, was the gaudy little motorboat wherein Rodney Hade
had come to the key. Two battered and paintless motor-scows
remained, and one or two disreputable rowboats.

It was the work of only a few seconds for Brice to cut loose
the moorings of all these craft and to thrust them far out
into the blue water, where wind and tide could be trusted to
bear them steadily farther and farther from shore.

Into the last of the boats--the speedier-seeming of the two
launches--Gavin sprang as he shoved it free from the float.
And, before the nearest of the island men could reach shore,
he had the motor purring. Satisfied that the tide had
caught the rest of the fleet and that the stiff tradewind was
doing even more to send the derelict boats out of reach from
shore or from possible swimmers he turned the head of his
unwieldy launch toward the mainland, pointing it northeastward
and making ready to wind his course through the straits which
laced the various islets lying between him and his destination.

"They'll have a sweet time getting off that key tonight," he