Put the boat about! To the shore!" roars Amyas.

"Look over the gunwale, and judge for yourself, sir!"

The waves are leaping fierce and high before a furious land-breeze.
Return is impossible.

"Cowards! villains! traitors! hounds! to have left him behind."

"Listen you to me, Captain Amyas Leigh," says Simon Evans, resting on
his oar; "and hang me for mutiny, if you will, when we're aboard, if we
ever get there. Isn't it enough to bring us out to death (as you knew
yourself, sir, for you're prudent enough) to please that poor young
gentleman's fancy about a wench; but you must call coward an honest man
that have saved your life this night, and not a one of us but has his
wound to show?"

Amyas was silent; the rebuke was just.

"I tell you, sir, if we've hove a stone out of this boat since we got
off, we've hove two hundredweight, and, if the Lord had not fought for
us, she'd have been beat to noggin-staves there on the beach."

"How did I come here, then?"

"Tom Hart dragged you in out of five feet water, and then thrust the
boat off, and had his brains beat out for reward. All were knocked down
but us two. So help me God, we thought that you had hove Mr. Frank on
board just as you were knocked down, and saw William Frost drag him in."

But William Frost was lying senseless in the bottom of the boat. There
was no explanation. After all, none was needed.

"And I have three wounds from stones, and this man behind me as many
more, beside a shot through his shoulder. Now, sir, be we cowards?"

"You have done your duty," said Amyas, and sank down in the boat, and
cried as if his heart would break; and then sprang up, and, wounded as
he was, took the oar from Evans's hands. With weary work they made the
ship, but so exhausted that another boat had to be lowered to get them
alongside.

The alarm being now given, it was hardly safe to remain where they were;
and after a stormy and sad argument, it was agreed to weigh anchor and
stand off and on till morning; for Amyas refused to leave the spot till
he was compelled, though he had no hope (how could he have?) that Frank
might still be alive. And perhaps it was well for them, as will appear
in the next chapter, that morning did not find them at anchor close to
the town.

However that may be, so ended that fatal venture of mistaken chivalry.

CHAPTER XX

SPANISH BLOODHOUNDS AND ENGLISH MASTIFFS

"Full seven long hours in all men's sight
This f