The thought of Jenny set my heart strangely working. Though I knew well I badly wanted to see her, yet there was a shrinking uneasiness at my heart as though I were half afraid. The prospect of facing Jenny again seemed more like an ordeal than a pleasure. Yet I wanted her, and was tempted to put all to the hazard, dive in and swim to shore, and go and find her. It wasn't so much the fear of disobeying Dirk that made me hesitate as the knowledge that I hadn't yet accomplished my mission, indeed didn't seem to have made the first step in its accomplishment. I was ashamed to go to Jenny and say I had done exactly nothing, and in fact didn't know what to do. However, the desire to see her grew intense. Perhaps she would forgive me when I told her of my father's death. And at that thought I felt a longing for sympathy, so that the tears came to my eyes and I blubbered like a girl. But I couldn't restrain the shaking sobs, and crept into hiding so that I shouldn't be seen. All I knew was that I was lonely and miserable, and I wanted Jenny to comfort me. But the only consolation I had was the golden guinea she had given me. I pierced it, and threading it with a piece of twine hung it about my neck like a charm. I waited for Dirk to return, intending to ask him again to let me go ashore. But he didn't return, and the evening grew dark, and the sun set over the land. So I crept into my bunk, and still sniffing a little curled myself up and went to sleep. But with the morning Dirk was still away. And then I suddenly knew why he had vanished, and cursed myself for a fool for not having guessed before. He was on the track of the King's Man. Probably he would be away some days. In any case if he captured the fellow it would have to be at night-time. I would be safe for the day then. I gobbled down some breakfast and taking my knife, but leaving my pistol behind, I slipped on deck and waited for a chance to drop overboard unobserved. It wasn't long before the chance came. The men were resting, as there was little work to do while the ship lay at anchor. The lookout wasn't paying too much heed to his job. I was over the side, sliding down the anchor chain, without a soul being any the wiser. And soon I was ashore, and making for a fisherman's hut changed my wet clothes for a jersey and a pair of breeches, on the understanding that I should return that night and receive my own clothes back again. I remember feeling a touch of shame at the untidy ill-fitting gear I had been obliged to borrow, but there was no alternative, for I couldn't wait for my own things to dry. So I set off, making tracks across country for Sunset Towers. It was a longer journey than I had anticipated; but I obtained a lift here and there, and before the sun had set I had crept into the grounds from the back, and was scouting for a clear run in. For now that I was at the old haunt again my fear of the officers returned upon me.