Hastings side, the other in the direction of the marshes.
Tregenna was in the former boat; but it had not got very far when one of the men at the oars raised his head, as if listening intently.
"Did you hear that, sir?" asked he, in a low voice.
"What? I heard nothing."
The man rested on his oar, and his example was followed by the others. There was a moment of dead silence, no sounds reaching their straining ears but the cry of a sea-bird and the soft plash of the calm water as it lapped the sides of the boat. It was a beautiful night, the sea as smooth as a lake, and the moon, which was almost at the full, making a bright path of silvery yellow on the still water. There was nothing to tell of early winter save for a touch of frost in the air, and a thin line of November fog along the shore.
Suddenly there rang out in the keen night air the sharp report of a pistol, followed by a cry, which sounded shrill in the distance.
"Turn," said Tregenna, "and row hard for the other boat."
