Not that I regretted the act, not that I experienced the slightest remorse, yet, for an instant, the shock seemed to leave me nerveless and unstrung.

Only a moment since I was engaged in desperate struggle, and now I could only stare down at the dark lines of that motionless body outstretched upon the sand.
Then I remembered those others--the unconscious sleepers on the deck of the sloop; those blood-stained villains creeping toward them through the black shadows of the night.

The memory was like a dash of water in the face.

With the death-dealing knife still gripped in my hand, I raced forward along the narrow strip of sand, reckless of what I might encounter, eager only to arrive in time to give utterance to a shout of warning.

I could not have covered more than half the distance when the first sound of attack reached me--far-off, gurgling cry of agony, which pierced the darkness like the scream of a dying soul.