e ringing to me over the sea. It was then that I
had cried "Calypso!" and wrenched myself free.

The next moment there came dashing in sight a sloop also under full
canvas, and at its bow, a huge white man, with a levelled rifle that
still smoked. At a glance, I knew him for Charlie Webster. He had been
about to fire again, but, as the man dragged Calypso for'ard, he paused,
calm as a rock, waiting, with his keen sportsman's eyes on Tobias--for,
of course, it was he.

"You--coward!" I heard his voice roar across the rapidly diminishing
distance between the two boats, for the sloop was running with power as
well as sails.

Meanwhile, the men had lashed Calypso to the mast, and even in my agony
my eyes recorded the glory of her beauty as she stood proudly there--the
great sails spread above her, and the sea for her background.

"Now, do your worst," cried Tobias, his evil face white as wax in the
sunlight.

"Fire, fire--don't be afraid," rang out Calypso's voice, like singing
gold. At the same instant, as she called, Tobias sprang toward her with
raised revolver.

"Another word, and I fire," shouted the voice of the brute.

But the rifle that never missed its mark spoke again. Tobias's arm fell
shattered, and he staggered away screaming. Still once more, Charlie
Webster's gun spoke, and the staggering figure fell with a crash on the
deck.

"Now, boys, ready," I heard Charlie's voice roar out again, as the sloop
tore alongside the schooner--where the rest of the negro crew with
raised arms had fallen on their knees, crying for mercy.

All this I saw from the water, as I swam wildly toward the two boats,
which now had closed on each other, a mass of thundering canvas, and
screaming and cursing men--and Calypso there, like a beautiful statue,
still lashed to the mast, a proud smile on her lovely lips.

Another moment, and Charlie had sprung aboard, and, seizing a knife from
one of the screaming negroes, he cut her free.

His deep calm voice came to me over the water.

"That's what I call courage," he said. "I could never have done it."

The "King" had been right. He knew his daughter.

By this I was nearing the boats, though as yet no one had seen me. They
were all too busy with the confusion on deck, where four men lay dead,
and three others still kept up their gibberish of fear.

I saw Calypso and Charlie Webster stand a moment looking down at the
figure of Tobias, prostrate at their feet.

"I am sorry