others dead, and waiting to join their fellows in the
silent waters, happily released from their pain.

He was so deeply plunged in thought that he did not notice Tom Fillot's
return, and he gave quite a start as the man laid a hand upon his knee.

"Look there, sir," he whispered.

"Eh? where?"

"Over the trees, behind me."

"Fire?" whispered Mark, excitedly, as he gazed at a warm glow away
beyond the forest.

"No, sir; the moon. She'll soon be up, and we must have that schooner
in the dark."

"Then we'll begin at once," said Mark, decisively.

"Right, sir. The lads have some of 'em got their cutlashes, and them as
ain't have each got two good hard fists; and it strikes me as they'll
use 'em too. So when you're ready, sir, give the word."

Mark felt for his dirk, which was safe in his belt, and then thought of
the quiet little parsonage at home, and of the horror that would assail
his mother if she could know of the perilous enterprise upon which he
was bound. Then came the recollection of his grave, stern-looking
father, and of what would be his feelings.

"Would he say don't go?" thought Mark.

The answer seemed to come at once.

"No; he'd say, `It's your duty, boy. In God's name go and do your
best.'"

"I'm ready, Tom Fillot," he said half aloud, as he felt for and seized
the rudder-lines. "Now, my lads."

There was a low buzz of excitement, and then, in obedience to an order,
a couple of oars were softly thrust into the water. Dance stood ready,
but there was no boathook, and he fretfully asked what he was to do.

"Hold on by the chains, mate," whispered Tom Fillot, "and I'll help you.
Dessay we can make the painter fast afore we get aboard."

As he spoke, he was busily loosening the rope which held them to the
tree, and then stood holding the end just round the bough.

"Ready, sir, when you like to say `Let go!'"

Mark paused a moment or two, breathing hard, and tried to think of
anything that had been left undone, knowing as he did that the slightest
hitch in the proceedings might mean failure; but he could think of
nothing, and leaning forward, he whispered,--

"You understand, my lads? Drop down, make fast, all in silence. Then
follow me aboard, make for the cabin, and knock down every man who tries
to get on deck."

"Ay, ay, sir," came in a whisper that was terribly impressive in its
earnestness.

Nothing then remained but for him to say "Let go!" But he hesitated
yet, and