"What is this ship anchored not far from the frigate?" demanded De Chemerant of the master of the long boat, in order to change the conversation, out of regard for the feelings of the supposed duke.
"That, sir, is a merchantman, which arrived last night from St. Pierre," said the sailor, respectfully removing his cap.
"Ah! I know," said De Chemerant; "it is probably the ship of that fool of a merchant-captain who demanded our escort. But here we are, your highness—the lights are all out—you are not expected."
"So much the better, so much the better; provided Mortimer is not there."
"It seems to me that I see him on the bridge, your highness."
Croustillac raised his mantle almost to his eyes.
"Ah! there is the officer of the watch on the ladder. What a pity to arrive so late, your highness. It is to the beat of drums, the flourish of trumpets, that your highness should have been received, with the ship's crew presenting arms."
"Honors to-morrow—honors to-morrow," said Croustillac; "the hour of these frivolities always comes soon enough."
Chemerant drew aside to allow the Gascon to mount the ladder first. The latter breathed freely again on seeing on deck only an officer of marines, who received him with bared head and a profoundly respectful air. Croustillac responded with great dignity, and above all, very briefly, enveloping himself in his mantle with the utmost care, and casting uneasy glances around him, fearing to see the terrible Mortimer. Fortunately he saw only the sailors talking together or reclining by the side of the guns.
The officer, who was speaking in a low tone to De Chemerant, saluting Croustillac again, said to him: