And then--surely the grinding of an oar, as it wrought upon the gunwale against an ill-fitted thole-pin--out there by the Quette d'Amont!

His eyes and ears strained into the darkness till they felt like cracking.

And the m.u.f.fled growl of voices!

His heart thumped so, they might have heard it.

He must wait till he was sure they meant to come in. But they must not come too close.

It was an ill landing in the dark, and there were various opinions on it. But there was no doubt as to their intentions. They were coming in.

"Sheer off there!" cried Gard.

Dead silence below. They had come in some doubt, but their doubts were solved now, and there was no longer need for curbed tongues, though, indeed, his hollow voice made some of them wonder if it was not a spirit that spoke to them.

"It's him!" "The man himself!" "We have him!" "In now and get him!"--was the burden of their growls, as they hung on their oars.

"See here, men!" said Gard, invisible even to Sark eyes, against the solid darkness of the slope. "There has been trouble and loss enough over this matter already, and none of it my making. Do you hear? I say again--none of it my making. If you attempt to come ash.o.r.e there will be more trouble, and this time it will be of my making. Keep back!"--as an impulsive one gave a tug at his oar. "If you force me to fire, your blood be on your own heads. I give you fair warning."

Growls from the boat carried up to him an impression of mixed doubt and discomfort--ultimate disbelief in his possession of arms, an energetic oath or two, and another creak of the oar.

"Very well! Here's to show you I am armed." The report of his gun made Nance jump, at the other side of the island, and set all the birds on L'Etat--except the puffins, deep in their holes--circling and screaming.

The small shot tore up the water within a couple of yards of the boat, which backed off hastily--much to his satisfaction, for he had feared they might rush him before he had time to reload.

He had dropped flat after firing and recharged his gun as he lay. He was sure they must have come armed, and feared a volley as soon as his own discharge indicated his whereabouts.

As a matter of fact, they had come divided as to the truth of the report that there was a man on L'Etat--even then as to him being the man they sought. In any case, they had expected to take him unawares, and never dreamt of his being armed and on the watch for them.

Thanks to Nance, he had turned the tables on them. It was they who were taken unawares.

But if he spoke again, he said to himself, they would be ready for him, and their answers would probably take the rude form of bullets. So he lay still and waited.

There was a growling disputation in the boat. Then one spoke--

"See then, you, Gard! We will haff you yet, now we know where you are.

If it takes effery man and effery boat in Sark, we will haff you, now we know where you are. You do not kill a Sark man like that and go free.

Noh--pardie!"

"I have killed no man--" A gun rang out in the boat, and the shot spatted on the rocks not a yard from him.

Coming in, they knew, meant certain death for one among them, and, keen as they were to lay hands on him, no man had any wish to be that one.

The oars creaked away into the darkness, and he climbed to the ridge to make sure they made no attempt on the other side.

But discretion had prevailed. One man could not hold L'Etat from invasion at half-a-dozen points at once. They could bide their time, and take him by force of numbers.

He heard them go creaking off towards the Creux, and turned and went back along the ridge to find Nance.

CHAPTER XXVII

HOW ONE CAME TO HIM LIKE AN ANGEL FROM HEAVEN

Nance was standing by the shelter, and even in the darkness he could tell that she was shaking, in spite of her previous vigorous incitement to defence.

"You--you didn't kill any of them?" she asked anxiously.

"No, dear. I warned them off and fired into the water to show them I was armed."

"I was afraid. But, there were two shots."

"One of them fired back the next time I spoke, but I was expecting it."

"They are wicked, wicked men, and cruel."

"They are mistaken, that's all. But it comes to much the same thing, and I don't see," he said despondently, "how we are ever to prove it to them."

"They will come again."

"Yes, they are to come back with every man and every boat in the Island.

I shall have my hands full. Are there more than these two places where they can land?"

"Not good places, and these only when the sea is right. But angry men--and ready to shoot you--oh, it is wicked--"

"We must hope the sea will keep them off, and that something may turn up to throw some light on the other matter," he said, trying to comfort her, though, in truth, the outlook was not hopeful, and he feared himself that his time might be short.

"I will stop here and help you," she said, with sudden vehemence. "They shall not have you. They shall not! They are wicked, crazy men," and the little cloaked figure shook again with the spirit that was in it.

"Dear!" he said, putting his arm round her, and drawing her close. "You must not stop. They must not know you have been here. I do not know what the end will be. We are in G.o.d's hands, and we have done no wrong. But if ... if the worst comes, you will remember all your life, dear, that to one man you were as an angel from heaven. Nance! Nance! Oh, my dear, how can I tell you all you are to me!"--and as he pressed her to him, the bare white arms stole out of the cloak and clasped him tightly round the neck.

"But how are you going to get back, little one? You cannot possibly swim that Race again?" he asked presently, holding her still in his arms and looking down at her anxiously.

"Yes, I can swim," she said valiantly. "I knew it would be worse than usual, and I brought these"--and she slipped from his arms and groped on the ground, and presently held up what felt to him in the darkness like a pair of inflated bladders with a broad band between them. "And here is a little bread and meat, all I could carry tied on to my head. We feared you would be starving."

"You should not have burdened yourself, dear. It might have drowned you.

And I have eggs--puffins'--"

"Ach!"

"They are better than nothing, and I beat them up with cognac. But are you safe in the Race, Nance dear, even with those things?"

"You cannot sink. If Bernel had only taken them! But he laughed at them, and now--"

He kissed her sobs away, but was full of anxiety at thought of her in the rushing darkness of the Race.