It was
half-flood, on a spring tide. The reef that projects from the western end
of the island far into the reach below, was nearly covered; but still
enough was visible to show the nature of the barrier it presented to a
passage from one shore to the other. There was one rock, near the island
itself, which lifted its black head high above the water. Between this
dark mass of stone and the land, there was an opening of some twenty
fathoms in width. The Skimmer saw, by the even and unbroken waves that
rolled through the passage, that the bottom lay less near to the surface
of the water, in that opening, than at any other point along the line of
reef. He commanded the helm a-weather, once more, and calmly trusted to
the issue.
Not a man on board that brigantine was aware that the shot of the royal
cruiser was whistling between their masts, and damaging their gear, as the
little vessel glided into the narrow opening. A single blow on the rock
would have been destruction, and the lesser danger was entirely absorbed
in the greater. But when the passage was cleared, and the true stream in
the other channel gained, a common shout proclaimed both the weight of
their apprehension and their relief. In another minute, the head of
Blackwell's protected them from the shot of their pursuers.
The length of the reef prevented the Coquette from changing her direction,
and her draught of water closed the passage between the rock and the
island.
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