“Not yet, not till the northerly fellow comes into stays.  We’ll tack then, but not for the river.”

The frigate to the north came into the wind, and as she did we wore ship and stood up; not a great divergence from our old course, but enough to make them think we might yet come about and try for the open sea.  The ship to the south of us took notice then and came into the wind, and while they were hanging there we eased off and headed straight for the white beach to the north of the river.

Both ships, after the loss of some minutes in irons, once more filled their sails and made straight for our wake.  Now they seemed to say, “Another half-mile on that leg and you won’t make either the river or the open water.”

As we neared the white shore an inlet opened up before us.  “There’s something, Gad, no chart will show you,” observed Captain Blaise.  “There’s a channel, carved round an island since the last government chart was plotted.  They’re doing some puzzling aboard those war-dogs now, I’ll warrant.  They’re thinking we’re going to beach and abandon her, I’ll wager.”

The Bess held straight on.  It was an inlet which went on for half a mile or so before turning obliquely to the north.  It was wide and deep enough for us—­plenty; but a frigate’s tonnage would have her troubles, if she tried to follow.

We weathered the first bend.  Before us was another bend.  I remembered now that years before, when I was a little fellow, I had come in and out of this very place.  I began to recollect dimly that after a while it came to the open sea again some miles to the north.

We were almost to the other entrance when he ordered the Bess hove-to and the gig lowered.  Into it went the strong-box and the Cunninghams and Ubbo.  “And you, too, Guy.”  He was looking at me queerly.  “Mr. Cunningham is still weak.  And Shiela, brave as she is, is only a woman—­a girl.  Will you see that they are landed safely?  That is the main shore.  See that their luggage is carried up to the top of that hill.  In the creek beyond that hill is an old darky who will take them in his little sharpie by way of a back river to Savannah.”

And so I was to have a few more minutes with her.  At the gangway he took my hand and held it while he said, “You’re weak yet—­don’t hurry.  Those two frigates won’t follow us in here.”  I remember wondering why only Ubbo was in the boat besides ourselves; but I was too excited at the thought of so soon landing her to think logically.  As I was about to step into the gig he whispered, “Take good care of her, won’t you, Guy?”

“Why, of course, sir.”

“That’s the boy.”  He pressed my hand.

We shoved off, Ubbo rowing.  In two minutes we were on the beach.  I was still too weak to be of much help to Ubbo with the strong-box, and so it took us some time to get it to the top of the hill.  We covered it with sand and brush to guard against a possible landing party from the frigates.  Shiela’s idea that was, and it delayed us another few minutes.