But at the time my one and only thought--the spring and spur of all my endeavour--was this,--Carette was on Herm and I must get there too.
The toil of rowing, however, relieved my brain by degrees to the point of reasonable thinking.

One unarmed man against a multitude must use such strategy as he can devise, and so such little common-sense as was left me took me in under the Fauconniere by Jethou, and then cautiously across the narrow channel to the tumbled masses of dark rock on the eastern side of Herm.

Here were hiding-places in plenty, and I had no difficulty in poling my boat up a ragged cleft where none could see it save from the entrance.
And here I was safe enough, for all the living was on the other side of the island, the side which lay towards Guernsey.
Instinct, I suppose, and the knowledge of what I myself would have done in Torode's place, told me what he would do.

And, crawling cautiously about my hiding-place, and peering over the rocks, I presently saw a well-manned boat row out from the channel between Herm and Jethou, and lie there in wait for anything that might attempt the passage from Sercq to Peter Port.
Nothing would pass that day, that was certain, for Torode would imagine Sercq buzzing with the news of his treacheries and bursting to set Peter Port on him.

I had got across only just in time.
On the other side of the island I could imagine all that was toward,--the schooner loading rapidly with all they wished to take away, the bustle and traffic between shore and ship, and Carette prisoner, either on board, or in one of the houses,--or, as likely as not, to have her out of the way, in my old cleft in the rock.
I wondered how long their preparations would take, for all my hopes depended on that.