"It was a strange scene that chapel blazing with light, as, dropping his cloak, Sir Roger strode into its centre, dressed in the uniform of his own regiment of Yeomanry. "`Away with him,' cried the priest, and a score of blades leaped from their scabbards. "`Silence, gentlemen,' said the baronet, no way dismayed, his voice sounding clear and sonorous above the tumult, `the place is surrounded. I have but to raise my voice, and the soldiers enter. Disperse while there is yet time.' "The conspirators looked into each other's faces with blank amazement. Some moved towards the door of the chapel and, returning, told that men wearing the Royal uniform were outside. "`It shall not be said that we, the last remnants of the faithful in this land, put our hands to the plough and turned back,' exclaimed Robert Pugh of Penrhyn. `Philip Wynn, fall in our men. Forward, gentlemen.'" "Is that the star you mean, Enrico?" asked Isabel, interrupting the tale, as she pointed to the westward; "it does not set, and seems larger than it was. Can it be on land?" Midnight, the hour fixed for the outbreak, had long passed, and all was as yet quiet on board. The voices of the speakers ceased as both concentrated their gaze on what seemed a red star, for Hughes did not like to wake the sleepers for nothing. A form moved at the far end of the raft. It was the man Gough, who raised himself gently on his elbow, listening cautiously. Hearing no noise save the swish of the waves, he pushed one or two of the men who, wrapped in their coats, were fast asleep, and then throwing the covering from him, he rose. The starlight gleamed from the blade of his long knife as he stole his way round the cases which formed the sea wall of the cabin. Step by step he advanced, but just as he rounded them, Hughes rose, his back turned towards the man. "I will wake the captain, Isabel. I know not what it is." With a loud curse, the ruffian raised his arm, and the blow fell, with such force, that it precipitated Hughes, who was wholly off his guard, into the sea. With a loud shriek, which aroused every one on the raft, Isabel rushed forward. Seizing her with his iron grasp by the hair, the murderer's knife once more gleamed in the starlight, when a straightforward blow from Morris the carpenter struck him full between the eyes, knocking him overboard; while shriek after shriek from Isabel rang out on the air. The men had now formed, and came on with their knives gleaming in the starlight, and a savage determination on their faces. "Lay down your arms, my lads," shouted Weber; "your plot is known, and we are armed." For a second the crew seemed disposed to obey the voice whose tones of command had so often rang in their ears. "Come on, my lads," shouted a burly sailor; "follow Jack Smith, and we'll soon have the gold."