gun-shots," said John, indifferently.

"I suppose that mad skipper is fighting with his men," said Flora--and
the breath of her words touched the sailor's cheek.

CHAPTER XX

FATHER MCQUEEN'S RETURN

Black Dennis Nolan and Bill Brennen brought the loose jewels from their
hiding-place to the harbor. The skipper carried the dispatch-box, and in
his pockets he had John Darling's neat little pistols, each good for two
shots--the latest thing in pistols at that time. They went straight to
Cornelius Lynch's cabin, where the leading grumblers were assembled. The
skipper was about to kick open the door and stuff the jewels into their
insatiable maws when a guarded, anxious voice at his elbow arrested him
with one foot drawn back. The voice was that of Mary Kavanagh.

"Whist!" said Mary. "Bes that yerself, Denny Nolan?"

"Aye, sure it be," returned the skipper.

"I heard a sound on the cliff, to the north," said Mary. "The sound o' a
horse nickerin' an' men cursin' it for the same."

"A horse?" queried the skipper. And then, "On the cliff to the north?
Where the divil has ye been to, Mary Kavanagh?"

"Whist! Hark to that!" exclaimed the girl.

"Sure, skipper, 'twas somethin' up back yonder," whispered Bill Brennen.
"It sounded to meself like a gun slammin' agin a rock."

"Would it be that stranger lad?" queried Dennis, anxiously.

"Nay, he bes safe enough," said Mary. "But hark to that, now! There bes
a whole crew up yonder."

The skipper opened Cornelius Lynch's door, but not with his foot as he
had formerly intended.

"Turn out an' git yer guns, men. There bes trouble a-foot," he said,
quietly. Then, laying a hand on Mary's shoulder, he whispered, "Git Pat
an' yerself to my house an' fasten up the doors. It bes a strong house,
lass, an' if there bes any gunnin' ye'll be safe there."

"Ye needn't be worryin' for Flora Lockhart," said Mary. "She bes safe
enough--herself an' the captain--a-sailing away in the bully this
half-hour back."

The skipper's hand tightened on her shoulder; but she did not flinch. In
the light from the open door he stared at her--and she stared back at
him, glance for glance. There was astonishment in his eyes rather than
anger, and a question rather than condemnation. He was about to speak
when the smashing report of a musket rang out from the slope and a slug
splintered the edge of the open door. The skipper pushed Mary away from
him.

"Run! Run to the house!" he cried.