their bodies lying lifeless along the sand, their pockets
rifled, their murderers gone!

The thought holds him irresolute, doubting what course to take. Should
he remain till they are heard approaching, then rush out, give them such
warning as he may, throw himself by their side, and do his best to
defend them? Unarmed, this would not be much. Against pistols and
poniards he would scarce count as a combatant. It might but end in all
three being slaughtered together! But there is also the danger of his
being discovered in his attempt to slip away from his place of
concealment. He may be followed, and overtaken; though he has little
fear of this. Pursued he may be, but not overtaken. Despite his
sea-legs, he knows himself a swift runner. Were he assured of a fair
start, he can hold his distance against anything Spanish or Californian.
In five minutes he might reach the pier--in five more be back. If he
find the _Crusaders_ there, a word will warn them. In all it would take
about ten minutes. But, meanwhile, Crozier and Cadwallader may get upon
the ground, and one minute--half a minute--after all would be over.

A terrible struggle agitates the breast of the man-o'-war's man; in his
thoughts is conflict agonising. On either side are _pros_ and _cons_,
requiring calm deliberation; and there is no time to deliberate. He
must act.

But one more second spends he in consideration. He has confidence in
the young officers. Both are brave as lions, and if attacked, will make
a tough fight of it. Crozier has also caution, on which dependence may
be placed; and at such a time of night he will not be going unguardedly.
The strife, though unequal, might last long enough for him, Harry Blew,
to bring the _Crusaders_--at least near enough to cry out--and cheer
their officers with the hope of help at hand.

All this flits through Harry Blew's brain in a tenth part of the time it
takes to tell it. And having resolved how to act, he hastens to carry
out his resolution--to proceed in quest of the boat's crew.

Sprawling like a lizard from beneath the launch, he glides off silently
along the strand. At first, with slow, cautious steps, and crouchingly,
but soon erect, in a rapid run, as if for the saving of his life; for it
is to save the lives of others, almost dear as his own.

The five minutes are not up, when his footsteps patter along the
planking of the hollow wooden wharf; and in ten seconds after, he stands