"No," replied Soliviac. "She is going at ordinary speed and is unconscious of our intention. Besides, she seems to be traveling backward while we have increased speed since the lulling of the storm. As soon as she is within reach of our cannon, we will salute and watch the effect. Therefore, let us drink each other good luck in another punch, after which Mademoiselle may retire to her state-room and pray for us."
"I to my state-room?" demanded Amélie, her eyes flashing. "How little you know me, Captain."
Naundorff clutched Soliviac by the sleeve, and, almost kneeling, entreated:
"Renounce force, for in that renunciation is the secret of life. It has been written: I took your cause in my hands and your grievance have I avenged. O forbear to spill blood, forbear to destroy life."
The Captain, respectfully but with evident displeasure, moved away, saying:
"There is no alternative."
"But what right have you, Captain, to attack that vessel for performing a charitable deed?"
"What right?" retorted the Breton. "Tell me first by what right the innocent boy-king was tortured, imprisoned, buried? When that schooner and its crew sleep on the floor of ocean, no man will arise to speak to me about rights. Ho there! to business." And he ran down the stairs, followed by René and the Carbonari. Amélie flung her arms around her father's neck as he fell on his knees in prayer. The pale blue morning light filtered through the cabin windows and gleamed over the water.