An Unexpected Meeting—Doings on the Isle of Palms—Gascoyne’s Despair.  
It was not without some difficulty that the boat reached the shore after the squall burst upon them. On landing, the party observed, dark though it was, that their leader’s countenance wore an expression of the deepest anxiety; yet there were lines upon it that indicated the raging of conflicting passions which he found it difficult to restrain.
 
“I fear me,” said Ole Thorwald in a troubled voice, “that our young friend Henry Stuart is in danger.”
 
“Lost!” said Gascoyne, in a voice so low and grating that it startled his hearers.
 
“Say not so,” said Mr Mason, earnestly. “He is a brave and a clever youth, and knows how to manage the cutter until we can row back and fetch him ashore.”
 
“Row back!” exclaimed Gascoyne, almost fiercely.
 
“Think you that I would stand here idle if our boat could live in such a sea as now rolls on the rocks? The Wasp must have been washed over the reef by this time. She may pass the next without being dashed to pieces, but she is too rickety to stand the third. No, there is no hope!”
 
While he spoke the missionary’s eyes were closed, and his lips moved as if in silent prayer. Seizing Gascoyne nervously by the arm, he said— “You cannot tell that there is no hope. That is known only to One who has encouraged us to ‘hope against hope.’ Henry is a stout youth and a good swimmer. He may succeed in clinging to some portion of the wreck.”
 
“True, true,” cried Gascoyne, eagerly grasping at this hope, slight though it was. “Come, we waste time. There is but one chance. The schooner must be secured without delay. Lads, you will follow Mr Thorwald. Do whatever he bids you. And now,” he added, leading the merchant aside, “the time for action has come. I will conduct you to a certain point on the island where you will remain concealed among the bushes until I return to you.”
 
“And suppose you never return to us, Mister Gascoyne?” said Ole, who regarded every act of the pirate captain with suspicion.
 
“Then you will remain there till you are tired,” answered Gascoyne, with some asperity, “and after that, do what you please.”
 
“Well, well, I am in your power,” retorted the obdurate Norseman; “make what arrangements you please, I will carry them out until—”
 
Here Ole thought fit to break off, and Gascoyne, without taking notice of the remark, went on in a few hurried sentences to explain as much of his plan as he thought necessary for the guidance of his suspicious ally.
 
This done, he led the whole party to the highest part of the island, and made them lie in ambush there while he went forward alone to reconnoitre. The night was admirably suited to their purpose. It was so dark that it was extremely difficult to perceive objects more than a few yards off, and the wind howled so furiously among the palms that there was no danger of being overheard in the event of their speaking too loud or stumbling over fallen trees.
 
Gascoyne, who knew every rock and tree on the Isle of Palms, went rapidly down the gentle slope that intervened between him and the harbour in which the Foam lay at anchor. Dark though it was, he could see the taper masts and yards of his vessel traced dimly against the sky.
 
The pirate’s movements now became more cautious. He stepped slowly, and paused frequently to listen. At last he went down on his hands and knees and crept forward for a considerable distance in that position, until he reached a ledge of rocks that overhung the shore of the bay. Here he observed an object like a round lump of rock, lying a few yards before him, on a spot where he was well aware no such rock had previously existed. It moved after a moment or two. Gascoyne knew that there were no wild animals of any kind on the island, and, therefore, at once jumped to the conclusion that this must needs be a human being of some sort. Drawing his knife he put it between his teeth, and creeping noiselessly towards the object in question laid his strong hand on the neck of the horrified Will Corrie.
 
That adventurous and desperate little hero having lain sleepless and miserable at the feet of Alice until the squall blew the tent over their heads, got up and assisted Montague to erect it anew in a more sheltered position, after which, saying that he meant to take a midnight ramble on the shore to cool his fevered brow, he made straight for the sea, stepped knee-deep into the raging surf, and bared his breast to the furious blast.
 
This cooled him so effectually that he took to running along shore in order to warm himself. Then it occurred to him that the night was particularly favourable for a sly peep at the pirates. Without a moment’s hesitation he walked and stumbled towards the high part of the island, at which he arrived just half-an-hour before Gascoyne reached it. He had seen nothing, however, and was on the point of advancing still further in his explorations, when he was discovered as we have seen.
 
Gascoyne instantly turned the boy over on his back, and nipped a tremendous yell in the bud by grasping his wind-pipe.
 
“Why, Corrie!” exclaimed Gascoyne in surprise, at the same time loosening his grip, though still holding the boy down.
 
“Ah! you villain, you rascally pirate. I know you, I—”
 
The pipe was gently squeezed at this point, and the sentence abruptly cut short.
 
“Come, boy, you must not speak so loud. Enemies are near. If you don’t behave I’ll have to throttle you. I have come from Sandy Cove with a party to save you and your friends.”
 
Corrie did not believe a word of this. He knew, or at least he supposed, that Gascoyne had left the schooner, not having seen him since they sailed from Sandy Cove; but he knew nothing of the manner in which he had been put ashore.
 
“It won’t do, Gascoyne,” gasped poor Corrie, on being permitted again to use his wind-pipe. “You may kill me, but you’ll never cow me. I don’t believe you, you cowardly monster.”
 
“I’ll have to convince you then,” said Gascoyne, suddenly catching the boy in his arms, and bearing him swiftly away from the spot.
 
Corrie struggled like a hero, as he was. He tried to shout, but Gascoyne’s right hand again squeezed the wind-pipe; he attempted to bite, but the same hand easily kept the refractory head in order; he endeavoured to kick and hit, but Gascoyne’s left hand encircled him in such a comprehensive embrace and pressed him so powerfully to his piratical bosom that he could only wriggle. This he did without ceasing, until Gascoyne suddenly planted him on his feet, panting and dishevelled, before the astonished faces of Frederick Mason and Ole Thorwald.
 
It is not necessary to describe in detail the surprise of all then and there assembled, the hurried conversation, and the cry of joy with which the missionary received the information that Alice was safe and within five minutes’ walk of the spot on which he stood. Suffice it to say, that Corrie was now convinced of the good faith of Gascoyne, whom he at once led, along with Mr Mason, to the tent where Alice and her friends slept—leaving Thorwald and his men where they were, to await further orders.
 
The cry of wild delight with which Alice sprang into her father’s arms might have been destructive of all Gascoyne’s plans had not the wind carried it away from the side of the island where the pirate schooner lay. There was now no time to be lost. After the first embrace, and a few hurried words of blessing and thanksgiving, the missionary was summoned to a consultation.
 
“I will join you in this enterprise, Mr Gascoyne,” said Montague. “I believe what you say to be true, besides, the urgency of our present danger leaves me no room for choice. I am in your power. I believe that in your present penitent condition you are willing to enable us to escape from your former associates; but I tell you frankly that, if ever I have an opportunity to do so, I will consider it my duty to deliver you over to justice.”
 
“Time is too precious to trifle thus,” said Gascoyne, hurriedly. “I have already said that I will deliver myself up—not however to you, but to Mr Mason—after I have rescued the party, so that I am not likely to claim any consideration from you on account of the obligation which you seem to think my present act will lay you under. But you must not accompany me just now.”
 
“Why not?”
 
“Because your presence may be required here. You and Mr Mason will remain where you are to guard the girls, until I return. All that I have to ask is, that you be in readiness to follow me at a moment’s notice when the time comes.”
 
“Of course what you arrange must be agreed to,” said Montague.
 
“Come, Corrie, I will require your assistance. Follow me,” said the pirate captain, as he turned and strode rapidly away.
 
Corrie was now thoroughly convinced of the good intentions of Gascoyne, so he followed him without hesitation. Indeed, now that he had an opportunity of seeing a little more of his gigantic companion, he began to feel a strange kind of pity and liking for him, but he shuddered and felt repelled when he thought of the human blood in which his hands must have been imbrued, for as yet he had not heard of the defence of himself which Gascoyne had made in the widow’s cottage. But he had not much time to think, for in a few minutes they came upon Ole Thorwald and his party.
 
“Follow me quietly,” said Gascoyne. “Keep in single file and close together, for if we are separated here we shall not easily get together again.”
 
Leading them over the same ground that he had formerly traversed, Gascoyne conducted his party to the shores of the bay where the Foam lay at anchor. Here he made them keep close in the bushes, with directions to be ready to act the instant he should call on them to do so.
 
“But it would comfort me mightily, Mister Gascoyne,” said Thorwald in a somewhat troubled voice, “if you would give me some instructions or advice as to what I am to do in the event of your plans miscarrying. I care nought for a fair fight in open field, but I do confess to a dislike of being brought to the condition of not knowing what to do.”
 
“It won’t matter much what you do, Mr Thorwald,” said Gascoyne, gravely. “If my plans miscarry, you will be killed every soul of you. You’ll not have the ghost of a chance of escaping.”
 
Ole opened his eyes uncommonly wide at this. “Well,” said he at length, with a sigh of resignation, “it’s some comfort to know that one can only be killed once.”
 
Gascoyne now proceeded leisurely to strip off his shirt, thereby displaying a chest, back, and arms in which the muscles were developed to an extent that might have made Hercules himself envious. Kicking off his boots, he reduced his clothing to a pair of loose knee-breeches.
 
“’Tis a strange time to indulge in a cold bath!” murmured Thorwald, whose state of surprise was beginning to render him desperately ironical.
 
Gascoyne took no notice of this remark, but calling Corrie to his side, said—
 
“Can you swim, boy?”
 
“Yes, like a duck.”
 
“Can you distinguish the stern of the schooner?”
 
“I can.”
 
“Listen, then. When you see a white sheet waved over the taffrail, throw off your jacket and shirt and swim out to the schooner. D’ye understand?”
 
“Perfectly,” replied the boy, whose decision of manner and action grew with the occasion.
 
“And now, Mr Thorwald,” said Gascoyne, “I shall swim off to the schooner. If, as............