his
companions, would make a meal of him, and whether it would hurt much, or
if unconsciousness would come soon. Mechanically he swam on, more or less
in the direction of the _Bella Cuba_ and the French boat, which were at
close quarters now; and perhaps there was a scarcely defined hope in his
heart that a stray shot might finish him before the hideous "guardians of
the Ile Nou" found their chance.

The state of his own brain and nerves became a matter of cold surprise
to him; the suspense without fear, though tingling with physical dread,
and the capacity for separation of emotions. He found himself thinking of
Virginia, and pitying her. This would break her heart, he told himself.
She would have a morbid feeling that she was to blame for the disaster;
that she had caused the death of her brother and cousin, and the other
man so strangely important in her life of late. He wished that he might
talk to her, and tell her not to mind, because it was not in the least
her fault, and she had done nothing but good.

Then he began to wonder why the yacht and the French boat had ceased
firing. The latter had only two guns, while the _Bella Cuba_ had four,
and, as he had said to Roger a few minutes (or was it years?) ago, she
was but a poor "makeshift," rigged up more as a kind of "scarecrow" for
_forcats_ meditating escape than for actual service. Still, she must
carry at least ten or twelve rounds of ammunition. Could it be that the
little _Bella Cuba_ had contrived to knock a hole in her hull, and that
her men must choose between beaching her immediately or having her sink?
It looked as if this explanation might be the right one, for she was
certainly retiring, and that with haste. To beach she must go round the
point whence she had come in, approaching the lagoon, and this she was
doing, the yacht having no more to say to her.

"The Frenchies know what their sea-wolves have done," George thought
grimly, "and so they can afford to let things slide and save themselves.
No good sending out a boat and trying to pick up their man under the nose
of the enemy, for the poor fellow's gone where neither friends nor foes
can get him. The episode is closed. And all the _Bella Cuba_ wanted was
to put the prison boat out of the running. There's no good being
vindictive. I could get to her now, if I liked--provided those brutes
would let me. But it's impossible--I won't think of it. Afterward I
should loathe myself for being a coward an