in vain; he
wrenched his head sidewise, raised it, and looked towards the cliff,
while I flinched slightly, for the shadow moved, as he who made it drew
back to strike.

_Crash_!

No: it was not the falling of the sword on my poor outstretched neck,
but a volley from the top of the cliff, fired by twenty of our brave
blue-jackets, and half-a-dozen of the pirates fell shrieking on the
sands.

I turned faint, but I recovered my senses as I saw Ching spring up, rush
at a man on the sand, snatch up his sword and run to me.

"Quick!" he cried; "jump up; fight!"

Almost mechanically I obeyed him, and snatched a knife from the hands of
one of the fallen men to defend my life, just as a second volley rolled
forth from the cliff, directed at the pirates as they ran toward the
ridge.

For there was no need for us to fight--our enemies were in full retreat;
and, as I looked up at the cliff, I could see our men drawn-up, and they
were signalling evidently to some one out of sight.

The next minute we were hailed.

"Which is the way down?"

"This way," cried Ching excitedly; and he ran south, pointing to the
rift by which he had climbed the cliff, while I stood there--giddy,
helpless, and at last sank down on my knees beside poor Tom Jecks, who
was still muttering something about the storm.

I recovered, however, enough to watch our men descending the rift--a
perilous, break-neck place; but they did not hesitate, and in a few
minutes all were down, formed up, and came toward us at the double.

And now for the first time, at the head of those familiar faces, I saw
Mr Reardon, who thrust his sword into his sheath as he drew near and
literally rushed at me.

"My dear boy!" he cried, giving me quite a fatherly hug; "thank God, we
were just in time."

I could not speak--I was too giddy; but I tried to look my thanks.

"Not hurt, are you?"

"No, sir; only faint."

By this time the last of the pirates had passed over the ridge, and I
felt irritated with Mr Reardon for not going in pursuit. But he did
not read my countenance; he called one of the men out of the line, made
him give me some water from his bottle, and bent down on his knees by
poor Tom Jecks.

"Ha!" he said; "fever from a wound. Give him some water too, my lad."

He sprang to his feet then, and I understood why he had not gone in
pursuit of our enemies, for just then there was a sharp volley from over
the ridge somewhere.

"Ha! that's got them," s