hildren. That
doleful wailing song of hers was the first chant of madness. Her steps
were undirected, now carrying her to the wood's heart, now away from it
a little way towards the sea's beach. My order, twice given, that she
should stand and wait for us was never answered; I do not even think
that she felt my hand upon her shoulder. But she fell at last, limp and
shuddering, into my arms, and I picked her up and turned towards the
sea.

"The children to you, and straight ahead," said I to the captain; "run
for your life, and for the lives of these little ones. It will be
something to save them, captain."

He answered me with a word that was almost a groan; but stooped to his
task, nevertheless. He knew that it was a race for their lives and
ours.

I had the burden in my arms, I say, and no feather's weight was less to
me in the hope of my salvation and of those we strove for. The way lay
straight down, through a ravine of the low cliffs to the beach we had
left and the good boat awaiting us there. Nothing, it seemed, but a
craven will could stand henceforth between us and God's fresh air that
night. And yet how wrong that reckoning was! There were a dozen of
Czerny's men halloaing wildly on the cliff-side when we came out of the
wood; and almost before we had marked them, they were after us headlong
like devils mad in wine.

Now these men, as we learned afterwards, driven by hunger and thirst to
the point of raving, had come ashore that very evening; it may be to
rifle the stores on the island; it may be in that spirit of sheer
madness which sometimes drives a seaman on. Twenty in all when they
landed, there were eight asleep already when we encountered them; and
lying on the cliff's side, some with arms and heads overhanging, some
shuddering in the fearful sleep, one at least bolt upright against the
rock with his arms outstretched as though he were crucified, they
dotted that dell like figures upon a battle-field. The rest of them, a
sturdy twelve, fired by the dancing madness, brandishing their knives,
uttering the most awful imprecations, ran on the cliff's head above us,
and seemed to be making straight for the cove where our boat lay. And
that is why we said that the race was for life or death.

There are moments in his life when a man must decide "aye" or "nay"
without checking his step to do so. As things stood, the outlook could
not have been blacker while we ran through the ravine to the water's
edge.