"Who? What?" exclaimed Mary and Michel together.
"The ship! the ship! There, don't you see?"
And Petit-Pierre pointed down the river in the direction of Paimb[oe]uf.
"No," said Michel, "that can't be the ship!"
"Why not?"
"Because it is sailing away from us!"
Just then they reached the extremity of the island. Michel jumped ashore, helped his two companions to land, and ran with all speed to the other side.
"It is our vessel!" he cried, returning. "To the boat! to the boat, and row as fast as we can!"
All three sprang again into the boat; Mary and Michel strained at the oars while Petit-Pierre took the helm. Helped by the current the little boat flew along rapidly; there was still a chance of overtaking the schooner if she kept on her present course.
But presently a black shadow came between their eyes and the lines of the masts and cordage standing out against the sky; she had hoisted her mainsail. Soon another bit of canvas, the foretopsail, rose into the air; the jib followed; and then the "Jeune Charles," profiting by the breeze which was steadily rising, hoisted her other sails, one by one.