CHAPTER XXVIII. HOW THE SEA MIST ROSE IN TERQUETE BAY.

The startled cry of Magdalen called the attention of the others to the shadows flitting over the sand.

There, against the red glory of the departed sun, were figures of horsemen looming up on the dark line of jagged rocks which edged the western sky.

"There are three, four, five--ay, a dozen or more, and they are coming apace. Up with the sail, Ralph," cried Sir George Lisle, jumping into the boat.

There was already a foot or more of water all round her, and the sea spreading out over the flat sand made the boat look as if she were far out in deep water.

The sail was run up the mast, and Ralph, still in the water, pushed with all his might, while Sir George Lisle hauled hard at the warp.

"She's moving, she's moving," cried Magdalen, in an ecstasy of excitement, jumping about, and trying to help with an oar. At the same time, a fierce cry came over the water, and the distant sparkles on the edge of the ripples told of a horseman having plunged into the sea.

"Push, push," cried Magdalen, "or they will be here after all."

They strained and tugged, but the boat would not move. The splashes sounded nearer, the fierce cries became louder.

"Oh! oh! if only there were quicksands," cried Magdalen.

"There are," said her father. "The bay is full of them as the tide rises."

"Sir George Lisle! Sir George Lisle!" called out a well-known voice. "Your life is safe, and that of Mistress Lisle, if you attempt no escape--and no escape is possible; but I cannot vouch for your safety if you persist in trying to get away."

But the fugitives gave no answer.

"There she goes," gasped Ralph, as he strained more than ever with his shoulder against the square stern of the ill-shaped boat.

"Oh, Ralph, you will do yourself a mischief," said Magdalen, "and you hardly well yet from your illness."

The boat was moving, however. Sir George Lisle kept pulling in the warp, and the sand was stirred up all round.

"Ah, what's that?" said Sir George, as something whizzed past him and stuck in the sail. "Lie down, child, they are shooting from their crossbows."

The splashes of the approaching horsemen seemed very close; one especially was urging his horse to its utmost speed.

"'Tis Bowerman," said Magdalen despairingly.

But their boat was really moving now. Hand-over-hand the warp kept coming in. The breeze off the shore came fresh and strong.

"Jump in, Ralph," cried Sir George.

With a last push and a violent leap, Ralph clambered over the stern, and fell in a heap into the bottom of the boat.

"Thank the saints we are off," said the knight, as he pulled in the rude anchor over the bows of the old boat, which was now rippling through the water.

Ralph had picked himself up, and was looking astern at the splashing figures of two or three men-at-arms who were still pressing on through the shallow water.

"Aha, my friends, you'll have work enough to scour your harness after this, but you won't--Marry, what's the matter!" he broke off in alarm, as the sail came tumbling down on their heads.

"'Tis a quarrel hath cut the halyards," said Sir George in a smothered voice, as he tried to disengage himself from the thick sail.

A loud shout of triumph from their pursuers told how near the enemy were, and of their certainty of success.

"Not yet, my fine custrils," shouted Ralph, as he quickly climbed the mast to reeve the broken end of the rope through the sheaf again. A dangerous work, considering the excellence of the crossbow practice; and so it proved, for had not Ralph put on his back and breast-pieces before leaving the hut, he would have been mortally wounded, for one of the bolts rattled against the cuirass like a hammer riveting iron.

"'Tis done, Messieurs, thank you," said Ralph, sliding down, and quickly bending the rope on to the yard, the old sail was run up the mast again amid a defiant cheer from Ralph and Magdalen.

"Look at them," said Ralph, "you can see them safely through that hole in the gunwale. They are floundering along finely. Nay, my fine sir, 'tis not to your mind, I can see. Aha! 'tis best to go back. There they go; they have given it up," and Ralph bust into a roar of derisive laughter, in which Magdalene joined with her merry rippling voice.

One cavalier alone seemed loth to give up the chase.

The water had already risen up to the girths of his horse, but he kept spurring the reluctant animal all the time.

"I will have thee yet," shouted the man-at-arms, through his visor, as he shook his gauntleted hand at the boat. "Ralph Lisle, thou shall not escape me this time.

"What! is it thou, Bowerman?" called back Sir George Lisle. "Nay, man, get thee back before the sea swallow thee, and repent thee of thine evil deeds and treachery ere it be too late. There are quicksands, man, and the tide is rising apace. Thou gettest us not this time."

The grey mist of evening was rising all around. Out to sea a livid wall of impalpable vapour was veiling the breaking crests of the waves as they surged among the countless points of rock, whose sharp peaks projected in bewildering danger on all sides. The breeze had died down, and the brown sail flapped idly against the mast. The tide was still only at half flood, and was sweeping into the bay.

"We must row," said Sir George. "Magdalen, do thou take the helm. Steer between yonder black rocks."

The two men took the clumsy oars, and soon the swish and gurgle under the bows told of the progress they were making. They had escaped. Their pursuers could go no further. After rowing silently for about ten minutes, Magdalen suddenly called out in perplexity,--

"Where are the rocks? I don't see them."

Sir George looked round. There was nothing to be seen but the bows of the boat as she lifted over a longer swell than usual, or surged down into the long trough of the heaving water. All else was grey, indistinguishable gloom.

"'Tis the sea mist. We must have a-care, or we shall be on some of these rocks," said Sir George.

They rested on their oars. Astern they could still see the dim figure of the horseman, who was now urging his horse as hastily to land as he had spurred it towards the boat. But the creeping mist was fast pursuing him. Even now the yellow streak behind the purple shore was becoming bleared and blotted, and the harsh voices of the troopers, as they called to each other, or laughed at the struggles of their more hardy comrades, came deadened by the thickening air across the shallow water of the rock-strewn bay.

"I doubt if ever Bowerman will reach the land," said Sir George, after looking at the dim speck which was now all but invisible in the gloom.

But their own situation called for all their wits. It was most important that they should reach the head of the western point before the horsemen, who would be sure to ride there, and perhaps get a boat from the fishermen who lived in the bay round the promontory. The great danger now lay in the innumerable rocks which lay all round. After pulling for a few minutes, Magdalen called to them to stop. She was sure there was a rock near. She had heard a sharp sound.

They all listened attentively. The surging of the sea under the bows was all that they could hear.

"There! don't you hear it?" said Magdalen? as a sawing sound, sharp and swishing, rose over the silence of the waves.

"'Tis the sea grinding against a sharp rock," said Sir George, "and 'tis not far off. Can'st tell where it is, Ralph, thine ears are keener than mine?"

Again they all listened. The boat had lost all way, and was lying still in the glassy sea. All round was impenetrable gloom. It was not absolutely dark. They could distinguish each other in the boat, but they could see nothing, even an oar's-length away. All was grey, impalpable, vague opacity.

The sound of the sea among the points of the rocks grew fainter.

"The tide is setting us in shore," said Sir George; "we must row again."

Just as they were about to take to their oars a shout came over the water. It was a shout of terror, a blood-curdling shriek of agony.

Magdalen shivered.

"'Tis some of those men-at-arms; they have lost their way in the mist, and the rising tide has overtaken them," said Ralph, and he began to row, in order to deaden the noise, and distract the girl's attention.

But the cries became more piercing, they seemed to be nearer.

"We can't have turned round?" said Sir George. "Are we rowing ashore?"

They again paused. All was silent as the grave. The breeze seemed to have got up a little. Their sail began to fill, and the water rippled under the stern.

"This is getting parlous hazardous. I would we knew which way we are going. Put thine oar over the side and see if thou cans't feel the bottom," said Sir George Lisle.

But before Ralph could do what he was told, and while he was standing up to fathom with the oar, there was a crash--a grinding, splintering sound, and Ralph was thrown over the after-thwart into Magdalen's lap, who gave a little scream and then sat still.

They well knew what had happened. It did not need the water, which was fast rising in the boat, to tell them they had struck upon a rock, and were rapidly filling with water.

All three were used to danger, and they did not lose their presence of mind. Ralph, as soon as he had picked himself up, went forward and looked over the side. He could just see a brown patch through the clear water. He sounded with his oar. It was not more than six inches below the surface. He called to Sir George Lisle to sound over the stern and to their dismay they found that the oar could only just touch the bottom when held at arm's length under the sea. The boat was fast filling, and would soon slip off and sink in deep water. Without a moment's hesitation Ralph jumped over on to the rock. He took out the anchor, and wading as far as he could, he threw it out on the other side of the rock, and was glad to see it sank some depth. Then going back, he pulled as hard as he could on the warp, and thus prevented the chances of the boat slipping off.

"If the tide doesn't rise any more, we are safe from drowning, anyway," said Ralph.

In order to prevent the stern settling down any more, they placed the two oars upright on the rocks, as far out as they conveniently could, and then lashed them to the gunwale.

"There! we have done all we can now," said Sir George.

And they sat silent and anxious, watching if the tide were rising any more. They had been so busy with their work, that they had not noticed the cries of distress that had been growing more and more desperate. Suddenly they were startled by a gurgling sound quite close to them, a few gasps, splashings, and a voice in agony calling for help.

The sudden sound, the words shrieked in English, the blood-curdling struggles, quite upset Magdalen. She screamed and clung to her father.

They peered into the gloom and could see nothing. The sounds had ceased; a gurgling sound only could be heard, and then all was quite still.

Ralph would have swum off in the direction of the sounds, but the knight restrained him.

"You can do no good, and would never find him. He has sunk by this time."

The silence of the night seemed doubly oppressive. The swell of the sea rose over the sunken rock without breaking, and the old boat rose with the heave, grinding on the sharp point which had pierced her planks, and then settled down. They could not see that the tide was rising any more, and Ralph made a couch for Magdalen with the old sail, and wrapped her up under the lee of the bows, where she was well out of the night air, and away from the water.

"It must be past high-water by now," said Sir George. "'Tis a mercy the night is quiet. I marvel where we can be?"

It was not long before Ralph, looking over the gunwale, said,--

"The tide has fallen a good bit. The rock is quite dry under her bows."

With the rapidity with which the sea had come in it now rushed out again, swirling round the rock and bubbling under the stern. In a very short time the boat was left high and dry, and Ralph got out to climb down the rocks. The mist had by this time lifted, and he was astonished to see how close they were to the shore. He could not yet make out where they were, but he thought he saw a light.

Reaching the firm sand, he walked towards the light, and on his way stumbled over what he took to be a rock. Looking down, however, he found it was a helmet, and a little further on was a breastplate. It was clear it was the armour of the men who were caught by the tide, and who had taken it off to enable them to escape by swimming.

On reaching the beach he lost sight of the light, and began to think he must have been deceived, when a gruff voice called out,--"Qui va la?"

Ralph, utterly taken aback, did not know for the moment what to do. He stood quite still looking about him. The Frenchman repeated his demand, and by the sleepy accents of other voices, combined with the clank of metal, the esquire knew there were several men encamped there, and that it was the sentry who had challenged him.

He did not dare to retrace his steps, lest he should draw the pursuit to the boat. He longed for the mist to grow thick again, and stooping down as low as he could, he set off running towards a dark mass of rocks on his right.

The twang of a bowstring, and the whizz of a bolt past his left ear, told him what to expect. He ran at full speed along the shore, and reached the rocks in safety. He paused to take breath, and looked round to see how he could best get back to the others without being seen.

The moon had now come out, and, to his chagrin Ralph could easily distinguish the mast and black hull of the boat perched on the rocks not far away.

A shout from the men, who were all aroused now, told him that they also had seen the boat, and that all hope of escape was at an end.

In a few minutes more he saw a party of men-at-arms, their weapons gleaming in the moonlight, ride across the sand in the direction of the boat. They halted when they came to the armour lying in the sand, and Ralph could hear one say,--

"Tiens! c'est le harnois de l'Anglais!"

They then rode on to the rock, and three or four dismounting, climbed over the slippery stone. In another minute Ralph saw Sir George Lisle and Magdalen climbing down the rocks amid their captors.

"It is all over," sighed the young esquire. "I may as well give myself up too."

However, he stood still a little longer, and watched the party returning over the sand. He saw the slight form of Magdalen held in front of a man-at-arms, who was joking loudly to another trooper beside him.

Sir George Lisle was disarmed, and walked between two other steel-clad figures. The whole cavalcade was chatting loudly and laughing merrily. It appeared that all had escaped from the rising tide, excepting one man-at-arms, and that one was the Englishman. No one seemed to pity him, and Ralph felt the justice of the retribution which had so swiftly cut off Bowerman in the midst of his traitorous attempt to capture his own Countrymen--a victim to his own malignant hate. Ralph was as yet undecided whether to give himself up, or keep free as long as he could, in order to avail himself of any chance of helping the others.

He decided he would wait a little longer. He watched the Frenchmen, with their prisoners, join the main body, and then placing another sentry over their captives, they lay down to sleep out the rest of the night.