Perhaps it was the strain of watching in the darkness; perhaps the thought that the suspect might escape; but whatever the motive the fact remained that one of the Scouts, uttering a loud yell, broke from cover and dashed towards the man, brandishing his staff like a Berserk. "That's done it!" mentally ejaculated Peter. The premature and unauthorised action left no alternative. "At him, lads!" shouted the petty officer. The fellow stood his ground, expostulating angrily. But his words fell unheeded. Like a pack of hounds the eager and alert youngsters literally threw themselves upon the suspect, and bore him to the ground. Over and over they rolled, the gorse crackling under their weight. Only a few gaunt stumps prevented the struggling mob from tumbling over the brink of the fearful abyss. Unable to bear a hand Peter and the petty officer stood well-nigh breathless with suspense, expecting every minute to see the suspect and his assailants topple into space. The struggle was short-lived. The fellow's efforts at resistance ceased. Bound hand and foot and with the ten-stone patrol leader sitting on his chest he realised that the game was up. "Get your staves, lads," ordered the patrol-leader. "Form a stretcher. We'll carry him as far as the cart." "Strikes me I hear engines," declared the coastguardsman. "There, what's that?" A dull, rasping sound and the splash of disturbed water broke the silence. A moment later the night breeze carried the unmistakable noise of a vessel's engines running at full speed ahead. The petty officer was quick to act. Raising his hands to his mouth he shouted in stentorian tones: "Ship ahoy! Go full speed astern instantly. You're heading straight for Black Ghyll." The clang of the engine-room telegraph bell followed quickly, to the accompaniment of short, crisp orders and the trample of boots upon a metal deck. It was already too late. With a rending crash the vessel, whatever she might be, ran bows on to the jagged rocks. "That's done it! Her number's up," exclaimed the petty officer. "Now, lads, four of you come with me. There's work to be done there, I reckon. The others stay with this gentleman and guard the prisoner till we return." "Look here," said the captive in well-nigh breathless expostulation. "You've made a rotten mistake. Spoilt everything." Peter felt his heart give a furious beat. Regardless of regulations he bent over the prostrate prisoner and struck a match. The flickering flame revealed the indignant features of Philip Entwistle. CHAPTER XXIII ON THE ROCKS "So I haven't been able to chuck you fellows yet," remarked Lieutenant-commander Tressidar. "And what is more I see no likelihood at present of so doing. We've just had a wireless to proceed east to a position somewhere off the mouth of the Humber."