It would indeed be a frightful calamity, he thought, if that sacrifice of Lieutenant Hernandez should avail nothing. If that girl should fall once more into the clutches of the Spaniards. "For they are not all like that man," thought the lad. And so he waited nervously until the light was bright enough. And then very gently he awakened her and assisted her to rise. The girl was weak and exhausted, but she gathered her strength for this last final effort. "We have not far to go," Clif said. "And we will soon be safe." The two halted for a moment at the doorway of the hut and gazed out. In the faint gray light they could not make out the line of the shore beyond, but they heard the noise of the breakers and knew that it was not far away. And so half carrying his friend, Clif set out in the direction of the sound. Once only he turned again. That was to take a parting look in the direction he knew Lieutenant Hernandez to be. But he could make out only a dim line of woods behind him. No one could be seen, and the place was lonely and silent and gray. But Clif fancied those quiet eyes were watching him from the distance. There was no time to be lost, however, for no one knew when they might chance to meet with some of the enemy; they were in the midst of a thickly settled country. And so they made their way swiftly down to the shore. There they found a rowboat, drawn up on the beach a little beyond them. Clif was startled to see a figure standing by it. But it proved to be only a boy, and he hailed them and then disappeared. Clif knew that he had been sent there to guard the boat; it was more of the lieutenant's thoughtfulness. The sight of that guarantee of safety revived Bessie Stuart's spirits considerably; her step grew quicker and in a few moments they reached the spot. There were a pair of oars in the boat, which was a small one. Without a word, Clif set to work to put it off from the shore. That was as hard a task as could have been given him; for great waves were rolling upon the beach. But Clif was an athlete and a sailor besides; and the realization of their danger nerved his arm. He seated the girl in the bow and ran the boat out with a rush; he caught a favorable moment. He plunged on until the water was up to his waist, and then he leaped into the boat and seized the oars just as another great wave swept them in toward shore again. But Clif pulled for his life and held his own; and when the current set out again, he breasted the line of breakers and reached the sea beyond. Bessie Stuart sat perfectly motionless, grasping the gunwale, until she saw that they were safe. Then she gave a slight gasp and closed her eyes wearily. Clif had but one object, and that was to get as far from the coast of Cuba as he could; every stroke that he rowed put him further away from that dreaded shore.