"Beauvallet and spare not!" sang out the boatswain, and reached the sands with a splash and a bound. "How fares your honour?" "Rarely!" laughed Sir Nicholas. Master Dangerfield was at his elbow. "My God, sir, you have made it!" he cried, and grasped at Beauvallet's hand. There was a fight in the air, all around the murmur of it. "Ho, Spanish Papishers!" a voice growled. "Now see what comes to those who chase our Nick!" A second voice bawled out cheerfully: "Ay, have at 'em, lads!" and there was a surge forward up the beach. Sir Nicholas was only just in time to stop it. "Back, ye rogues!" The rush was checked, but there was dissatisfaction abroad. The _Venture's_ crew had been spoiling for a fight all this past fortnight of weary waiting; the excuse was provided, the men were elated, and it was felt that those who had the temerity to harry the _Venture's_ commander needed to be taught a lesson. "What, not one blow, sir?" said the boatswain reproachfully. Sir Nicholas was amongst his refractory crew. "Back, dogs! Man me that boat!" He beat them back with the flat of his sword. "By God, I will have you all in irons if you man me not that boat!" he swore cheerfully. There was a chuckle, a concerted move seawards; daggers were slid home in their sheaths. Somewhere near her Dominica heard a rough voice say appreciatively: "Ho-ho! The General's back amongst us! I'm for the boat." They manned the boat. They were disappointed at this tame ending, but it was held to be unhealthy for a man to go against the General's orders. His ungrateful behaviour upon being rescued by his faithful crew rather pleased them. Easy to see Mad Nick was himself still! There was a cheer raised. The bulk of the soldiers were pelting down the slope of the steep hill now. Sir Nicholas lifted Dominica high in his arms and waded out last of all to the boat. The crew became aware of the lady, and let another cheer. Many hands were eager to receive her into the boat, foremost amongst them those of Master Hick who had once had his face roundly slapped by her. She stood unsteadily, a hand on one fustian shoulder, the other lost in a great paw. Sir Nicholas climbed into the boat and waved farewell to Spain. "Give way!" he commanded, and the long oars dipped in the water. Slowly they drew away, until the lanterns on the shore receded in the distance, and the last sounds from Spain died. Dominica, crouched in the stern, stole her hand into Beauvallet's. His fingers closed over it; he looked down at her, and she caught the flash of his white teeth. "Safe now, fondling." She nodded and sighed her content. Behind her, at the tiller, young Dangerfield spoke bashfully. "And a warm welcome for you aboard, señorita, be sure." She smiled at him, but was too tired to speak. The boat cleaved on through the dark water until the tall sides of the _Venture_ reared up before it, and they heard excited voices, and saw the light of a lantern dangled over the side.