Hastily Vytal waded into the water, and, although there were no traces of the unfortunate drunkard, would have struck out toward the upturned craft, had not a deep voice at this instant restrained him. Turning, he saw Hugh Rouse standing on the shore, beckoning to him apprehensively. “Captain, a force of Winginas attacks the western palisado.” Vytal turned to one of the musketeers. “Bring hither a canoe and search for his body. He is drowned in the swift undertow;” then, with a last searching glance across the silver water, Vytal retraced his steps to the beach. “To the town, Hugh! I follow immediately.” He turned to the arquebusiers. “It rests with you,” he said, “to hold the Spaniards back from land. Ask no reinforcements. We cannot spare them. Nor yet seek to retreat within the enclosure. You will be refused admittance. Your post is here. Knowing that some of you are the men who would have mutinied on the fly-boat long ago, I give you this opportunity to retrieve yourselves,” and, leaving them, he made his way speedily to the town. As he passed within the main portal it was closed and barricaded, Rouse and a score of the ablest soldiers being left to defend it. He stopped at the fortress, before which Dyonis Harvie stood on guard, heavily armed. Eleanor was in the doorway. Seeing Vytal, she came out into the square and spoke to him. “Is it well?” “An hour will show,” he answered, quietly. “Then you fear treachery?” “No, I do not fear it.” “But you suspect it?” “Nay, madam, I am fully aware that a general attack is intended. A force of Winginas already threatens our western wall.” She hesitated, seeming loath to speak her mind, yet compelled by a certain distrust to make known her anxiety. “I hope,” she said, as though half to herself, “that none of the colonists will seek to leave by the _Madre de Dios_ until the issue is certain.” Her voice faltered. “It is my duty to tell you that Ananias plans—” But Vytal shook his head gravely. “Mistress Eleanor, Ananias Dare is dead!” “Dead!” she gasped, in a vague, incredulous bewilderment. “Dead!” “Yes; drowned.” A high flush of crimson came to her cheeks and suffused itself quickly about her temples; then as suddenly died, leaving her wan and pallid. Vytal, averting his face, while in silence she re-entered the fortress, went slowly to Dyonis Harvie. “Is the prisoner well guarded?” “Ay, most carefully—in a cell below the fort.” “Your main duties are to protect the women and keep him there;” with which Vytal turned quickly away toward the western palisade. Save for the light of the stars and of a wavering flambeau here and there, the town was in darkness. And but for the occasional reports of muskets, as the inland pickets fired into the forest at an unseen foe, no unusual sound broke the silence of night.