So before committing himself for the second time to the strange water-gate which led to his beloved, Wat had all the details of his plot arranged. He resolved to make the attempt on the first night when the new moon should be far enough advanced to throw a faint light over the water and temper the darkness of the rock passage. He could construct of driftwood a raft large enough to carry those necessaries with which Bess Landsborough could furnish him out of her scanty stores without attracting attention. The raft would also be at least a partial support for Scarlett. Wat resolved to arrange the method of escape with Bess that very night, and obtain from her the cord before returning. When Wat emerged from the long passage it was perfectly dark. Not even a single star was to be seen. More than once had he scraped himself painfully on the concealed rocks and on the sides of the cavern; upon which he grumbled to himself as even a man in love will do, for he knew that he would feel these hurts very much more acutely on the morrow. "This will not do at all for Scarlett, though Kate might manage well enough by keeping close to my shoulder," he said, shaking his head, which dripped with the salt-water, for the first break across the sound to the archway had been through a pretty briskly running jabble of spray. But when Wat came out on the sea-front of Suliscanna he saw an unusual sight. Torches thronged in single file down the pathways. They flashed and crowded about the landing-place, passing and repassing each other. A boat-load of men was just disembarking in the nearer bay; while yet another was dropping down the slack of the ebb, coming from the south of the island and striking in for the shore exactly at the proper moment, like men who knew every turn of the currents. Wat could hear the clatter of many voices. Swimming silently and showing no more than the dark thatch of his hair over the water, he approached nearer. He might have been a seal for all the mark he made on the water. As the torches gathered thicker about the landing-place, Wat could see the flash of arms as one gentleman and another disembarked. Presently a figure in black stepped ashore, and was greeted with a loud shout of welcome and acclaim by the islanders. Wat's heart sank within him, for he recognized his arch-enemy, and he knew that the difficulties of his task would now be infinitely increased. For my Lord of Barra it was indeed, who had at last come to claim his captive. And there behind him, like a hulking lubber-fiend, strode the burly, battered figure of Haxo the Bull, with the Calf and the Killer in close attendance. CHAPTER XXXIV CAPTOR AND CAPTIVE