"Hasten," I whispered, fearful lest some belated passer-by might overhear us; "jump in, and cast off that rope." It was the work of a few moments to stow the arms carefully away, unfasten the rope that held the boat to the side of the quay, and to push off. Then, by dint of slow and careful strokes, we urged the heavy craft towards the centre of the channel, and pointed its bow in the direction of Cowes. A few minutes' steady rowing sufficed to take us clear of the buildings lining the quay, and, looking astern, our eyes becoming more accustomed to the darkness, we could see the tower of St. Thomas' Church standing out against the blackness of the night. Not a sound came from the town, save the occasional barking of a dog; but in the direction of Carisbrooke a subdued roar, like the distant sound of waves breaking on the shore, came faintly to our ears, and from the summit of the keep we could discern the flare of the wood fires as the garrison plied the cressets with more fuel. "They lie thick around the castle," remarked Ralph. "And spare not their lungs though it seems that they have not yet opened the attack." "No," I replied, "I can hear no sounds of ordnance. Perchance they are afraid to attempt an escalade, for 'tis certain Colonel Brett will not hesitate to fire on the rebels, should they draw nigh the walls." After all, it was better for us that fate, or, rather, the spin of a coin, decided against our throwing in our lot with the garrison of Carisbrooke, for we afterwards learnt that there were but three days' provisions, and but four small barrels of powder within the fortress, the garrison of which was composed mostly of invalided and wounded soldiers from the Scottish wars. So it came about that the valiant Countess of Portland appeared on the ramparts with a lighted match in her hand, and threatened to fire the first cannon on the rebels, and to hold the castle to the last extremity, unless she and the garrison were permitted to march out with all the honours of war. The rebels, little knowing the weakness of the defenders, and probably glad of the opportunity of foregoing the risk of combat, gladly agreed to the Countess' terms, and on the following day the garrison retired in good order to Yarmouth. The tide was now running out, yet, in spite of steady labouring at the heavy oars, it was a matter of nearly two hours ere we reached the mouth of the river, where the two castles of Cowes kept watch and ward, though whether for or against the King we knew not. Mindful of the armourer's warning, we cast anchor close to the edge of a mud-bank, and waited till the tide turned, for there was little or no wind, so that 'twould have been a forlorn hope to attempt to stem the adverse current. For over an hour, as it seemed (for we were unable to measure the time), we lay thus, talking of the future, yet during that space neither did the tide show signs of slackening, nor did the dawn commence to show in the east.