and next minute the
sound of the horse's feet was heard in the distance, as the boat skimmed
swiftly out to sea under the powerful impulse of its stalwart crew.

A few minutes later and, as the Moor had prophesied, pistol-shots were
heard on shore. From the sound they appeared to come from a short
distance in the interior of the land, but musket-shots were also heard
among them, and from the flashes on the beach it became evident that the
Moor had not succeeded in turning all their pursuers off the scent--a
fact which was further illustrated by the skipping of a musket ball
close past the boat.

Just then it struck George Foster that Peter the Great and his wife were
seated beside him.

"Hallo, Peter!" he exclaimed; "how are you and Angelica to get on
shore?"

"We's not goin' on shore at all, Geo'ge."

"What do you mean, Peter?"

"I means what I says. De fact is, Geo'ge, dat I's come to de conclusion
dat I couldn't lib widout you. Angelica's ob de same opinion, so we's
made up our minds, wid massa's purmission, to go wid you to ole England.
We's all goin' togidder, Geo'ge. Ain't dat jolly?"

"But how can we ever get to England in a small boat like this?" asked
the middy, in much anxiety, for in the hurry and excitement of the start
the difficulty had not occurred to him.

"No fear about that, sir," answered Brown, who pulled the bow oar; "we
ain't such fools as to make the voyage in a cockle-shell like this! The
boat b'longs to a privateer as is owned by a friend o' mine, an' the
wessel's lyin' off an' on waitin' for us."

"There she goes!" said one of the sailors. "Look out!"

As he spoke a large schooner loomed up against the dark sky, and was
hailed. A gruff voice replied. Another moment the sails flapped, and
the boat was towing alongside. Our middy was first to leap on deck--and
not without a purpose in view, for he was thus in a position to hand up
the passengers.

"Do you forgive me, Hester?" he whispered humbly, as he stooped to grasp
her little hand.

"I forgive you!" she whispered timidly, as she passed him, and was led
by her father into the vessel's cabin.

That night two of the swiftest of the piratical war-vessels were seen to
warp out from the Mole, and put to sea, but long before the land breeze
filled their peaked sails the privateer was cleaving her way, homeward
bound, through the dark waters of the Mediterranean.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

THE LAST.

"Geo'ge, your mudder