Foy looked. Through the grey mist that was growing lighter every moment, for the dawn was breaking, he caught sight of a long boat with her canvas spread which was sweeping round the bend of the stream towards them and not much more than a quarter of a mile away. “They have had to pole down stream in the dark, and that is why they have been so long in coming,” said Hans over his shoulder. “Well, they are here now at any rate,” answered Foy, “and plenty of them,” he added, as a shout from a score of throats told them that they were discovered. But now the _Swallow_ had begun to fly, making the water hiss upon either side of her bows. “How far is it to the sea?” asked Foy. “About three miles,” Hans called back from the tiller. “With this wind we should be there in fifteen minutes. Master,” he added presently, “bid your man light the fire in the galley.” “What for,” asked Foy, “to cook breakfast?” The pilot shrugged his shoulders and muttered, “Yes, if we live to eat it.” But Foy saw that he was glancing at the slow-match by his side, and understood. Ten minutes passed, and they had swept round the last bend and were in the stretch of open water which ran down to the sea. By now the light was strong, and in it they saw that the signal fire had not been lit in vain. At the mouth of the cutting, just where the bar began, the channel was narrowed in with earth to a width of not more than fifty paces, and on one bank of it stood a fort armed with culverins. Out of the little harbour of this fort a large open boat was being poled, and in it a dozen or fifteen soldiers were hastily arming themselves. “What now?” cried Martin. “They are going to stop the mouth of the channel.” The hard-featured Hans set his teeth and made no answer. Only he looked backward at his pursuers and onward at those who barred the way. Presently he called aloud: “Under hatches, both of you. They are going to fire from the fort,” and he flung himself upon his back, steering with his uplifted arms. Foy and Martin tumbled down the hatchway, for they could do no good on deck. Only Foy kept one eye above its level. “Look out!” he said, and ducked.