"How do you make them?" he trumpeted.
"Red and yellow, over and under," answered the main crosstrees.
"Very good," replied my great-uncle. "Master Martin, you will single out that man and present him this purse."
He handed it over.
"Pipe all hands to breakfast, and serve an extra ration of rum."
"Aye, aye, sir," sighed Martin. "And here's to luck, —— my eyes!"
The dawn came all at once, as if a magician had waved his wand. A crimson glow in the east, soft at first, then spreading and deepening, and the light expanded almost like an explosion in the night. The red disk of the sun lifted over the horizon. And it was day. Westward, perhaps half a league, a great ship was wallowing toward us before the freshening wind. The coloring of her figurehead sparkled in the level rays which touched her dingy canvas and turned the sails to cloth-of-gold. The gaudy banner of Spain flapped with a splendid insolence in the pure light. The spray which was tossed over her bowsprit as she buried her stem in the easy swell was transformed into threaded amethysts, turquoises, emeralds!
"She is heavy-laden!" exclaimed my great-uncle, staring at her through his prospect-glass.
"Heavy-armed too," I added, pointing at the band of cannon along her sides.
"We'll make light of that," he answered. "But I shall have to pay somewhat for my Quixotic promise to you, Robert, to spare her crew. Ho, Coupeau!" he hailed the gunner who was passing on the spardeck.