"The Hell-hound is now in Havre, where she arrived this morning."
"Then it was the Hell-hound I saw!" cried Segoffin. "I thought I couldn't be mistaken."
"The brig is at Havre?" exclaimed Cloarek.
"Yes, M. Yvon, but disguised beyond any possibility of recognition. She has been painted gray with a broad yellow band, and not a sign of a gun is visible."
"And now will you be kind enough to tell me what all this signifies?" demanded Cloarek.
"It means that I have changed the appearance of the brig as much as possible, because all the British cruisers are on the lookout for her, and now, thanks to this disguise, you will be able to reach Jersey with little or no trouble."
"You are persistent, I must say," said Cloarek, restraining himself only by a powerful effort.
"Yes, captain, and what is more, I've got you, and I mean to keep you. The crew are wild with enthusiasm; the prospect of another voyage under you has made them frantic with delight. They expect to see you this evening, and I warn you that if you are not in Havre within an hour, they will be here in two hours."
"What! You will dare—" began Cloarek, in a voice choked with anger.
"I? Why, I have nothing to do with it, captain. It is your sailors that you will have to deal with, and you have had a chance to find out whether they are milk-sops or not. If you persist in your refusal, you will see one hundred and fifty of those dare-devils here with drums and fifes, and resolved to have their brave captain, whether or no. I am afraid those drums and fifes will destroy your incognito effectually this time."