“Nay, for that at least can live. But this plaything must surely perish if deserted in so rough a sea.” “No, Simon, it will gain the fly-boat.” Ferdinando returned to the bulwark and looked down once more at the object of their discussion. He could see it battling now against great odds, for the shadow made no headway in any direction and both ships were slowly leaving it in their wake. “Keep your purse. I’ll not play the assassin for you or any other man,” and again the master would have left. But he heard a quick step behind him, and turned suddenly. A slender gleam crossed his sight, and he felt himself pressed back against the bulwark. The menacing glimmer seemed to get into his eyes and into his soul, bringing terror to both. “For two thousand, then,” he said, hoarsely, “’tis done.” “Thank you, my good Simon. Thank you, and all this for turning your back.” There was a double meaning in the words, and Ferdinando shuddered at thought of it. “We will go now and give orders to the mate,” said St. Magil—“_together_.” CHAPTER IV “Whose eyes being turned to steel Will sooner sparkle fire Than shed a tear.” —MARLOWE, in _Edward the Second_. Eleanor Dare stood alone near the bulwark of the fly-boat, her thoughts shapeless, until at last a dark object, also without form, rose and fell on the water within range of her unseeing vision. Slowly her consciousness grew more acute, and the thing became real to her. Slowly it took shape and became a boat, a ship’s cock-boat, contending with all its little bravery against the waves. She heard, with an increasing heed to them, the shouts of men from the deck of the _Admiral_, and noticed for the first time that the governor’s ship, having stood back upon her course, was now abreast of the fly-boat. But soon her eyes, with a renewed attention to the realities of her surroundings, saw the _Admiral_ stand away again to the westward. She perceived with surprise that, considering the gale, the larger vessel carried an unwarrantable spread of canvas; and realized, not without alarm, that the fly-boat, if thus outsailed for many hours, must soon be left astern far beyond the regulation distance. And as to the small boat: was its present plight merely the unfortunate result of an attempt to bring some message from one ship to the other, or was it the outcome of a fell design on the part of Ferdinando? This last suspicion in Eleanor’s mind was not without foundation, for she had already entertained misgivings.