xperience upon the seas, the little _Swallow_, with her crew of three
men, had run the gauntlet of the fort which was warned and waiting for
her; had sunk and sailed through the big Government boat and her crew of
lubberly soldiers, many of whom, he was glad to reflect, were drowned;
had crushed the officer, against whom he had a personal grudge, like an
egg-shell, and won through to the open sea. There he thought he was sure
of her, for he took it for granted that she would run for the Norfolk
coast, and knew that in the gale of wind which was blowing his larger
and well-manned vessel could pull her down. But then the ill-luck--that
ancient ill-luck which always dogged him when he began to interfere with
the affairs of Lysbeth and her relatives--declared itself.

Instead of attempting to cross the North Sea the little _Swallow_ hugged
the coast, where, for various nautical reasons connected with the wind,
the water, and the build of their respective ships, she had the legs of
him. Next he lost her in the gut, and after that we know what happened.
There was no disguising it; it was a most dreadful fiasco. To have one's
vessel boarded, the expensive vessel in which so large a proportion of
the gains of his honourable company had been invested, not only boarded,
but fired, and the watchman stabbed by a single naked devil of unknown
sex or character was bad enough. And then the end of it!

To have found the gold-laden ship, to have been gulled into attacking
her, and--and--oh! he could scarcely bear to think of it! There was but
one consolation. Although too late to save the others, even through the
mist he had seen that wisp of smoke rising from the hold; yes, he, the
experienced, had smelt a rat, and, warned by some half-divine intuition,
had kept his distance with the result that he was still alive.

But the others! Those gallant comrades in adventure, where were they?
Well, to be frank, he did not greatly care. There was another question
of more moment. Where was the treasure? Now that his brain had cleared
after the shock and turmoil it was evident to him that Foy van Goorl,
Red Martin, and the white devil who had boarded his ship, would not have
destroyed so much wealth if they could help it, and still less would
they have destroyed themselves. Therefore, to pursue the matter to a
logical conclusion, it seemed probable that they had spent the night in
sinking or burying the money, and preparing the pretty trap into w