live or die on Ken's Island, mistress. Last night in my watch
I heard them crying like wild beasts that hunger drives. Those who do
not sleep to-day herd together on yonder beach. I counted nine of them
not half an hour since."

She tried to see with me, looking across the water; and presently she
said:

"There are men there and women, too--oh, Jasper, think of it, women!"

"Ah!" said I, "I have been thinking of it for an hour or more, ever
since I first made a signal to them. So much comes of being a seaman,
who can speak to folks when others are dumb. If they read my message
aright, they'll not stay on Ken's Island to sleep, be sure of it; but I
doubt that they'll dare it, Miss Ruth. Poor souls; their need is sore,
indeed!"

"And our own, Jasper," says she, "is our own less? You are brave men,
and you have all a woman's trust and gratitude; but, Jasper, when my
husband comes, what will you say to him? They are a hundred and we are
but five, shut up in this prison of the sea! We may live here forever
and no help come to us. We may even die here, Jasper. There are things
I will not either name or think of. But, oh, Jasper," says she, "if we
could save those poor people!"

It was always thus with her--nine thoughts for others and not the half
of one for herself. What she meant by the things she would not name or
speak of, I could hardly guess; but it was in my head that she meant to
indicate the corridors below and that unknown danger which iron doors
shut down. I had been a clearer-headed man that morning if I could have
put away from me my doubt of what the depths were hiding from us. But I
hid it from her always. A truce of self-deception shut out the question
as one we neither cared to hear nor answer.

"Miss Ruth," said I, speaking very slowly, "those people have a boat,
for you can see it on yon sands. Let them find the courage to float it,
and it is even possible that Dolly Venn and I can do the rest. We
should be thirteen men then, and glad of the number. I won't hide it
from you that we are a pitiful handful to face such a horde as lingers
yonder. Why, think of it. Your husband keeps them off the yacht, that's
clear to a child's eye. What harbour, then, is open to them? The
island--yes, there's that! They can go and sleep the death-sleep on the
island, as many an honest man before them. But they will have something
to say to Czerny first if I know anything of their quality! Our plight
is bad enough; but