the point, something big,
and black, and swift, with a gleam of fiery eyes and a belching stream
of smoke streaked with fire.
"By thunder!" stammered George. "It's not the _Cuba_. It's the Government
boat, coming down on us. We're trapped, sure as fate."
The words rang in Maxime Dalahaide's ears and reached his dimmed
consciousness. The danger was not for him alone, but for the others who
were risking everything to save him. It was this thought which seemed to
grip him, and shake him into sudden animation. He sat up, resting on one
elbow, not even wincing at the grinding pain that gnawed within the lips
of his re-opened wound.
"Not trapped yet," he said. "Keep to the right; to the right--not too far
out. She daren't come where we are, for she'd be ripped to pieces on the
reef, and she knows that."
"Hark! They've spotted us. She's hailing!" cried Roger Broom.
"_Halte! halte!_" came harshly across the moonlit space of water, as,
obedient to Dalahaide's quick hint, the course of the launch was
changed.
The three fugitives were mute, and again a raucous cry broke the silence
of the sea.
"Halt, or we fire!"
"They've two cannon," said Maxime. "I was mad to bring this on you, my
friends. If they fire----"
"Let them fire, and be hanged to them!" grumbled George Trent. "Two can
play at that game. In heaven's name, where's the yacht? Ah--you _would_,
would you!"
This in answer to a shot that, with a red blaze and a loud report, came
dancing across the water, churning up spray and missing the launch by a
man's length.
"Keep her going, George," said Roger as quietly as was his wont. "Our
hope's in speed now, and dodging, till the _Bella Cuba_ takes a part in
this game."
As if the calling on her name had conjured her like a spirit from the
"vasty deep," the graceful form of the yacht came into sight. George,
tingling with the joyous lust of the battle, could not resist a hurrah;
but his shout was deadened by the din of another shot, and then an
answering roar from the _Bella Cuba_. One of those cannon of hers had
"paid for its keep" at last. Now the yacht, and every one on board
her--to say nothing of the three who wished to be on board--were in for a
penny, in for a pound.
The act just committed was an offense against law and justice (not always
the same) and joined hands with piracy. To be caught meant punishment the
most severe for all, possibly even international complications. If the
French pris
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