ater like a racing yacht.

There are some things in life which seem to be extended over a
considerable space of time, apparently hours, but which afterwards
during calmer thought prove to have taken up only minutes, and this was
one.

Poole had just pointed out in a low whisper that by the stars they were
sailing due east, and the man nearest to them, a particularly
sharp-eared individual, endorsed his words by whispering laconically--

"Straight for the open sea."

The water was gliding beneath them, divided by the sharp keel, with a
hissing rush; otherwise all was still; for all they could make out the
gunboat and her satellites, sent out to patrol, might have been miles
away. There was darkness before them and on either hand, while in front
apparently lay the open ocean, and the exhilaration caused by their
rapid motion produced a buoyant feeling suggesting to the lads that the
danger was passed and that they were free.

Then in another moment it seemed to Fitz Burnett as if some giant hand
had caught him by the throat and stopped his breath.

The sensation was appalling, and consequent upon the suddenly-impressed
knowledge that, in spite of the fact that there was about a mile and a
half of space of which an infinitesimally small portion was occupied by
danger, they were gliding through the black darkness dead on to that
little space, for suddenly in front there arose the dull panting,
throbbing sound of machinery, the churning up of water to their left,
and the hissing ripple caused by a cut-water to their right.

It was horrible.

They were going dead on to the gunboat, which was steaming slowly across
their bows, and it seemed to the breathless, expectant group that the
next moment they would be cutting into her side, or more likely
crumpling up and shivering to pieces upon her protecting armour. But
there is something in having a crew of old man-of-war's men, disciplined
and trained to obey orders in emergencies, and thinking of nothing else.
The skipper had given his commands to his two look-out men, and in the
imminence of the danger they were obeyed, for as Fitz Burnett gripped
his companion's arm, involuntarily drawing him sideways in the direction
of the bulwark, to make a leap for life, a sharp clear pipe, like the
cry of some sea-bird, rang out twice, while the panting and quivering of
the machinery and the churning rush of the gunboat's crew seemed right
upon them.

Suddenly there was a loud