"My name is Lanham, John Lanham, and I'm a lieutenant on the _Hawk_." The storm was, in truth, whistling away to the westward and its rage, so far as Robert's island was concerned, was fully spent.

The waves were sinking and the night was lightening fast.

The sloop of war, heaving at her anchorage, stood up sharp and clear, and it seemed to Robert that there was something familiar in her lines.

As he looked he was sure.
Coincidence now and then stretches forth her long arm, and she had stretched it now.
The sailors, when the sea died yet more, relaunched the boat.

Lanham and Robert sprang in, and the men bent to the oars..