"Go about! go about!" cried the marquis, exasperated by his fall. "After him! the devil take me if I don't board him and ask the captain what he means by such insolence!"
"Do you expect me," said the old sailor, "with my one sail and two poor jibs, to overhaul a craft of that kind? Look at his canvas, the villain!--every stitch set! And see how it draws!"
"Yet we must overtake him!" cried Bertha, running aft. "It is the 'Jeune Charles!'"
And she showed her father a broad, white band at the stern of the other vessel on which could be read, in letters of gold. "LE JEUNE CHARLES."
"Faith, you are right, Bertha!" cried the marquis. "Go about, my friend, go about! But why doesn't he carry the signal agreed upon with Monsieur de la Logerie? And why, instead of steering for the bay of Bourgneuf, is he heading east?"
"Perhaps some accident has happened," said Bertha, turning pale.
"God grant it may not be to Petit-Pierre!" muttered the marquis.
Bertha admired her father's stoicism, but in her heart she murmured: "God grant it may not be to Michel!"
"Never mind!" said the marquis, "we must find out what all this means."
The lugger had meantime gone about, and again catching the wind, began to move rapidly through the water; this man[oe]uvre on a vessel of her size could be done so quickly that the schooner, in spite of her volume of sail, did not get far in advance. The fisherman was able to hail her.