The captain appeared on the poop.
"Are you the 'Jeune Charles' from Nantes?" asked the skipper of the boat, making a trumpet of his two hands.
"What's that to you?" answered the captain of the schooner, whose good humor did not seem to be restored by the certainty of having evaded the clutches of the law.
"I have folks aboard for you!" cried the fisherman.
"More messengers! A thousand devils! I tell you if you bring me any more such fellows like those I have had this night, I'll run you down, you old oyster-dredger, before I let 'em aboard!"
"No, they are passengers! Aren't you looking out for passengers?"
"I'm looking out for a good wind to take me round Cape Finisterre!"
"Let me come alongside," said the fisherman, at Bertha's suggestion.
The captain of the "Jeune Charles" looked at the sea, and not perceiving between himself and the coast anything to warrant apprehension, and desirous, moreover, to know if the passengers asking to come aboard were those for whom his vessel was chartered, he did as the fisherman requested, hauled down his foresail and mainsail and brought-to his vessel sufficiently to throw a line to the lugger and bring her alongside.
"Now, then!" cried the captain, leaning over his bulwarks, "what's all this about?"