"I--I beg your pardon," he said. "I lost my head. Don't be afraid--it's all over now. I beg your pardon." Without another word or look he turned and sought his room in the forecastle. Half an hour later, as he lay staring into the darkness, he heard a muffled beat, as of a drum. Betty was playing her guitar in her room. Gradually the drum-beat increased and quickened until it grew into a continuous roll, a throbbing cadence that thrilled through and through him. The roar of the wind and the mutter of the sea were in the shattering roll of the drum. At the very height of its clamor--while he strove in vain to catch its meaning--it passed abruptly into silence. He was left staring into the dark. XIII Toward midnight, the girl lying wakeful in the after cabin heard a tap at the door. "Betty, are you awake?" "Yes." "Don't be frightened, but I think there may be a little excitement out here pretty soon." "What is it?" "Some of the 'swampers' up to a bit of thieving, I fancy." "I'll be out in a moment, Bob White." She found him, clad only in shirt and trousers, leaning against the side of the cabin, and staring shoreward. She divined his frank smile, and smiled in return. "Thieves?" she asked in a whisper. "I'm almost sure of it," he answered in the same tone. "I heard a boat bump against the side of the _Wisp_ a few minutes ago. I think they were drifting down with the tide to reconnoitre, and were swept in closer than they had expected to be." "Have you a pistol?" "On the locker there. Lucky Danton lent me one of his. You aren't afraid?" "Not--with you." "I dare say they won't come back. Listen now! See if you can make out anything to starboard. I'll watch on this side." The night was very dark. The stars were obscured by light clouds, nor was there a moon visible. Their eyes could penetrate the darkness little farther than the rails where a whitish mist hid the surface of the water. Betty gazed intently. A sidelong glance showed her Fessenden kneeling on the locker opposite her, his half-bared arms folded on his chest. His powerful form gave her a comforting sense of protection. She stared again to starboard. From the mist two great hands gripped the rail of the sloop! Then a face--the face of a negro--rose into view, a knife gripped in his teeth. So impossible, so barbaric, did the apparition seem, that for a long breath Betty stared spell-bound. Then her scream whirled Fessenden about. He crossed the cockpit at a bound, and struck savagely at the negro's jaw. The latter ducked with the skill of a trained boxer. Throwing up a hand, he caught the other by the throat, dragging him forward. Fessenden struck again, grappled with his antagonist, tottered, and plunged headforemost over the rail upon him. Both went down struggling wildly. Betty snatched up the revolver, hardly knowing what she did, and stared down upon the boiling water.