“The man who came with me was the gaoler from the citadel,” replied Mr. Halliburtt. “The gaoler!” cried James Playfair. Evidently he knew nothing about it, and a thousand fears crowded in his mind. “Quite right, the gaoler,” cried a well-known voice; “the gaoler is sleeping like a top in my cell.” “Crockston! you! can it be you?” exclaimed Mr. Halliburtt. “No time to talk now, master; we will explain everything to you afterwards; it is a question of life or death. Get in quick!” The three men took their places in the boat. “Push off!” cried the captain. Immediately the six oars dipped into the water; the boat darted like a fish through the waters of Charleston Harbour. CHAPTER IX. “BETWEEN TWO FIRES.” The boat, pulled by six robust oarsmen, flew over the water. The fog was growing dense, and it was with difficulty that James Playfair succeeded in keeping to the line of his bearings. Crockston sat at the bows, and Mr. Halliburtt at the stern next the Captain. The prisoner, only now informed of the presence of his servant, wished to speak to him, but the latter enjoined silence. However, a few minutes later, when they were in the middle of the harbour, Crockston determined to speak knowing what thoughts were uppermost in Mr. Halliburtt’s mind. “Yes, my dear master,” said he, “the gaoler is in my place in the cell, where I gave him two smart blows, one on the head and the other on the stomach, to act as a sleeping draught, and this when he was bringing me my supper; there is gratitude for you. I took his clothes and his keys, found you, and let you out of the citadel, under the soldiers’ noses. That is all I have done.” “But my daughter?—” asked Mr. Halliburtt. “Is on board the ship which is going to take you to England.” “My daughter there! there!” cried the American, springing from his seat. “Silence!” replied Crockston, “a few minutes, and we shall be saved.” The boat flew through the darkness, but James Playfair was obliged to steer rather by guess, as the lanterns of the “Dolphin” were no longer visible through the fog. He was undecided what direction to follow, and the darkness was so great that the rowers could not even see to the end of their oars. “Well, Mr. James?” said Crockston. “We must have made more than a mile and a half,” replied the Captain. “You don’t see anything, Crockston?” “Nothing; nevertheless I have good eyes, but we shall get there all right. They don’t suspect anything out there.” These words were hardly finished when the flash of a gun gleamed for an instant through the darkness, and vanished in the mist. “A signal!” cried James Playfair. “Whew!” exclaimed Crockston, “it must have come from the citadel. Let us wait.” A second, then a third shot was fired in the direction of the first, and almost the same signal was repeated a mile in front of the shore-boat.