Then he spied a greased bat for launching lying on the slope. In a trice he was overboard, had seized it, and racing down the streaming shingle as a wave withdrew, thrust the bat beneath the keel. The wave curled, stemmed by the advancing water, and swept about him to the knee. As it clasped the lugger, a puff of wind leapt from the land, and skirmished across the sea. The jib filled to it, and strained seaward. Was he wrong?--or did she stir and tremble, like a girl to her lover? How to help her? If they could hoist the main-sail! He was back over the side in a moment. The boat was clean-swept now of everything but the muskets and a mess of shingle for ballast at the bottom. The anchor had gone over the stern and trailed on the slope. Even Blob had disappeared. Kit pushed at the boom to thrust it over. "Blob! Blob! where are you?" "Here Oi be!" panted a voice forward. Kit turned to see Blob, his shoulders rounded, and arms taut, heaving at the main-mast. "She wun't budge!" he cried, his face crimson with honest effort. "Seems she's grow'd in loike." "Fool!" he cried. "Lend a hand with the boom here! Shove, boy, shove! --Now on to the main-brace! No, fool, no!--Here--on to this! Now all together--heave! heave! heave!" The great sail rose, groaning terribly. Heaven send the smugglers hadn't heard! But they had. II So much a far scream told them. "We're seen!" panted Kit. "Now whistle for the wind, my boy, and hand me that musket." The water was slopping all about the lugger. Empty as a barrel she began to rock to the rocking of the tide. A puff would launch her. The boy glanced seaward. Over there was that white glimmer, clearer now. It was like the arm of a drowning woman flinging up for help. The glimpse of it inspired the boy. "I'm coming, sir," he called across the waters. "One more fight first." He hitched his belt. Now he had no doubt of the issue. Here his friend, the sea, was beside him, whispering to him, loving him, taunting him. She was his hope, his heart, his strength. And for the first time it flashed upon the lad what the fight was really for. It was for her, the World's Woman. She went to the Victor, and she was on his side: for he was England, and England had won her first, and, true woman that she was, she clove to her first conqueror. III They were coming. He thrilled to them. "Now, Blob! you take that side. I'll take this. Pick off a man as he comes over the crest. Then out knives, and do your best!" He leapt on to the taffrail, balancing by the mizzen. Tiptoeing so, he could just see over the crest of the shingle-bank. And he was never to forget the sight he then saw. Towards him across the greensward, a torrent of men streamed like a tide-race, silent all. A huge Grenadier led them. Behind in a bunch came the smugglers, Fat George shambling along in the midst with a fury of arm-work. As his swifter comrades passed him, he clutched at them covetously. "_Ands off!_" screamed a lanky lad.