The night had swallowed him up, but his work on her was done. She bound a scarf tightly round the place where the blood seemed to be coming from. After some time, the scuffle grew more and more distant, until nothing could be heard. She saw the moonlit waters, the black shadow of the proa, the moon-fire that ran down the far edge of the bellying sail, the silent natives: no sound except the slapping of the outrigger and the low sibilant murmur of water falling away from the sides—and the beating of her heart. " "By Jack Sheppard!" exclaimed the thief-taker. She could read that Martin had a crush on her and was perhaps even going to try and challenge John as he was the bold sort.
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