"My God!" he said softly, "if only Tristram were here to see!"
IV.—The Galleys.
When the frigate failed to answer his salute, M. de la Pailletine jumped to a fresh conclusion.
"Mordieu!" he cried, "here is another English captain who, like our friend Salt, is weary of carrying his Sovereign's colours. He doesn't mean to strike a blow. A minute and we shall see his flag hauled down."
But the minute passed, and another, and yet a third, and the English flag still flew.
By this time they were within musket-shot. One by one the four guns had spoken from the galley's prow and still there was no answer. On the brink of the tragedy there was silence for an instant. Then a few of the French musketeers seemed to find this intolerable and fired without receiving the order. Followed a silence again, and still the Merry Maid came on as if to impale herself on the galley's beak.
And then, suddenly, when in five minutes the vessels must have collided, round flew the frigate's wheel. For a minute and a half she fetched up as if awaking to the consequences of her folly; shuddered and shook against the wind; and, as her sails filled again, fetched away on the westerly tack for her life.
For a full two minutes the French were taken aback.
"Fools, fools!" shouted M. de la Pailletine, beside himself with joy.
The order flew for the slaves on the larboard benches to hold water for a minute and the galley's head came round. Nothing gives more spirit than a flying enemy. From mouth to mouth ran the whisper that the English were showing their heels; and in a moment these poor devils, who owed all their misery to France, were pulling like madmen. Jeers rose from the deck.