R-i-i-p! There was a flash, a blow, and a cry of pain. A large, keen knife was clenched in the strong right hand of Lanoix, and the captain was running red, with a deep gash in his shoulder.
“Down with the Mutineer! Down with the dog!” came from the throats of the members of the crew who had clustered about the two enraged men, smiling at the little affair.
With a rush they were upon the Huguenot; had forced him to the deck; and wrested the knife from his hand. But, before it was wrenched from his fist, the blade had pierced the body of a seaman and had felled him to the boarding.
“Bring up the Laws of Oléron,” cried Captain Valbué, when the Huguenot had been secured. “Bring up the Laws of Oléron from my cabin, and let us see whether or no I was right, when I struck this prating Lanoix!”
The cabin-boy dove below and was soon again upon the deck.
“The law shall be read,” cried the captain. “Out with it!”
Now, aboard the vessel was one Antoine Sauret—a good, old boatswain—a friend of the father of Jean Bart, and a courageous man.
“The law shows you to be in the wrong,” said he.
“Yes,” cried Jean Bart from the wheel, which he had not left. “You were, and are, in the wrong.” Monsieur Valbué glowered at them.
“I am the law,” said he. “Is this not my vessel?”