th him? Did anything tell
him that this was the great moment of his life--that his destiny hung
on it--that the ordeal he had just gone through was as nothing to the
ordeal that was yet before him? As he sat in his boat, peering into
the darkness at the black shadow on the horizon, did any voice
whisper in his ear:--"Stephen Orry, on the ship that is yonder there
is one who hates you and has sworn to slay you? He is coming, he is
coming, and he is flesh of your flesh? He is your own son, and
Rachel's!"

Stephen Orry fetched his boat away to leeward, and in two minutes
more he had run down the light on the Point of Ayre. The light fell
into the water, and then all was dark. Stephen Orry steered on over
the freshening sea, and then slackened off to wait and watch. All
this time he had been sitting at the tiller, never having risen from
it since he stepped his mast by the side of the brig. Now he got on
his feet to shorten sail, for the wind was rising and he meant to
drift by the mizzen. As he rose something fell with a clank to the
boat's bottom from his lap or his pocket. It was the bag of money,
which Michael Sunlocks had returned to him.

Stephen Orry stooped down to pick it up; and having it in his hand he
dropped back like a man who has been dealt a blow. Then, indeed, a
voice rang in his ears; he could hear it over the wind that was
rising, the plash of the white breakers on the beach, and the low
boom of the deep sea outside. "Remember your promise, father. I have
bought every hour of your life that's left."

His heart seemed to stand still. He looked around in the dull agony
of a fear that was new to him, turning his eyes first to the headland
that showed faintly against the heavy sky, then to the pier where no
light now shone, and then to the black cloud of sail that grew larger
every instant. One minute passed--two--three. Meantime the black
cloud of sail was drawing closer. There were living men aboard of
that ship, and they were running on to their death. Yes, they were
men, living men--men with wives who loved them, and children who
climbed to their knees. But perhaps they had seen the light when it
went down. Merciful heaven, let it be so--let it be so!

The soul of Stephen Orry was awake at length. Another minute he
waited, another and another, and the black shadow came yet nearer. At
her next tack the ship would run on the land, and already Stephen
seemed to hear the grating of her keel over the rock