An
hour or so ago he had been satisfied in the assurance that he
would see her for a few minutes on the cliff. Since then fate had
played his way. Jeanne was his own, to save, to defend, to carry
on to Fort o' God.
Not for a moment did he hesitate at the danger ahead of him, and
yet his pursuit was filled with caution. Gregson, the diplomat,
would have seen the necessity of halting at the ship for help;
Philip was confident in himself. He knew that he would have at
least three against him, for he was satisfied that the man whom he
had wounded on the cliff was still in fighting trim. There might
be others whom he had not taken into account.
He passed so close under the stern of the ship that his canoe
scraped against her side. For a few minutes the vessel had
obstructed his view, but now he saw again, a quarter of a mile
distant, the craft which he was pursuing. Jeanne's captors were
heading straight for the river, and as the canoe was now partly
broadside to him he could easily make out the figures in her, but
not distinctly enough to make sure of their number. He shoved out
boldly into the moonlight, and, instead of following in his former
course, he turned at a sharp angle in the direction of the shore.
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