Down trundled master, and dog, and pilot. By this time there was no one in the lower part of the shed, which was full of smoke, while the infernal tumult on the water still raged as furiously as ever, the shot of all sorts and sizes hissing, and splashing, and ricochetting along the smooth surface of the harbour, as if there had been a sleet of musket and cannonballs and grape. Peter struck out at the top of his speed, Sneezer and I followed: we soon reached the jungle, dashed through a path that had been recently cleared with a cutlass or billhook, for the twigs were freshly shred, and in about ten minutes reached the high wood. However, no rest for the wicked, although the row seemed lessening now. “Some one has got the worst of it,” said I. “Never mind, massa,” quoth Peter, “or we shan’t get de betterest ourshef.” And away we galloped again, until I had scarcely a rag an inch square on my back, or anywhere else, and my skin was tom in pieces by the prickly bushes and spear grass. The sound of firing now ceased entirely, although there was still loud shouting now and then. “Push on, massa--dem will soon miss we.” “True enough, Peter--but what is that?” as we came to a bundle of clouts walloping about in the morass. “De debil it must be, I tink,” said the pilot. “No, my Nancy it is, sticking in the mud up to her waist; what shall us do? you fink, massa, we hab time for can stop to pick she out?” “Heaven have mercy, Peter--yes, unquestionably.” “Well, massa, you know best.” So we tugged at the sable heroine, and first one leg came home out of the tenacious clay, with a plop, then the other was drawn out of the quagmire. We then relieved her of the paddles, and each taking hold of one of the poor half-dead creature’s hands, we succeeded in getting down to the beach, about half a mile to leeward of the entrance to the cove. We found the canoe there, plumped Nancy stem foremost into the bottom of it for ballast, gathered all our remaining energies for a grand shove, and ran her like lightning into the surf, till the water flashed over and over us, reaching to our necks. Next moment we were both swimming, and the canoe, although full of water, beyond the surf, rising and falling on the long swell. We scrambled on board, set Nancy to bale with Peter’s hat, seized our paddles, and skulled away like fury for ten minutes right out to sea, without looking once about us, until a musket-shot whistled over our heads, then another, and a third; and I had just time to hold up a white handkerchief, to prevent a whole platoon being let drive at us from the deck of his Britannic Majesty’s schooner Gleam, lying-to about a cable’s length to windward of us, with the Firebrand a mile astern of her out at sea. In five minutes we got on board of the former.