A pause ensued. The mayor trembled.

'Now, mayor,' said the captain, 'choose! Help me to my bride, or
be bombarded.'

The mayor begged for two hours' grace, in which to make inquiries
respecting the young lady. Boldheart accorded him but one; and
during that one placed William Boozey sentry over him, with a drawn
sword, and instructions to accompany him wherever he went, and to
run him through the body if he showed a sign of playing false.

At the end of the hour the mayor re-appeared more dead than alive,
closely waited on by Boozey more alive than dead.

'Captain,' said the mayor, 'I have ascertained that the young lady
is going to bathe. Even now she waits her turn for a machine. The
tide is low, though rising. I, in one of our town-boats, shall not
be suspected. When she comes forth in her bathing-dress into the
shallow water from behind the hood of the machine, my boat shall
intercept her and prevent her return. Do you the rest.'

'Mayor,' returned Capt. Boldheart, 'thou hast saved thy town.'

The captain then signalled his boat to take him off, and, steering
her himself, ordered her crew to row towards the bathing-ground,
and there to rest upon their oars. All happened as had been
arranged. His lovely bride came forth, the mayor glided in behind
her, she became confused, and had floated out of her depth, when,
with one skilful touch of the rudder and one quivering stroke from
the boat's crew, her adoring Boldheart held her in his strong arms.