“Ay, ay, sir!” said Bill, who acted as chief mate, “blow me if it ain’t a pity we bean’t in ship-shape—more guns and more men—we would soon stop that ere chap.”
The Vengeance was now under weigh, with her full complement of sail, for the first time since captured; and the men looked over the side with many a remark upon the smooth and rapid way she went through the water.
“She’s a clipper, Master Burdett,” said Lieutenant Thornton. “This is a light breeze, comparatively speaking; just take the small glass, and call one of the men aft, and see what we are making.”
In a few minutes the log-line was overboard, Bill slacking the line and Master Burdett holding the glass.
“Stop,” sang out Bill, and, looking at the marks, declared she was going nine knots. This was a surprising speed for the wind then blowing. “There be very few crafts, sir,” continued Bill, “that could hold their own with this here Vengeance; she’d laugh at a frigate in a light breeze.”
“She always did Bill, even before her spars and sails were increased. You will see in half an hour we shall sink the stranger’s top-gallant sails.”
Finding such to be the case, the Vengeance was again hove to, whilst the crew still watched the course of the stranger. Presently they could see her topsails, and then our hero decidedly declared her to be a French frigate. Their fore and main lug were then lowered, and under her mizen and jib she kept pretty much in the same place, and as the sun went down they lost sight of the French ship, which evidently stood in for the port of Havre, without noticing them.
Sail was then made, and they hauled in for the land. Lieutenant Thornton was in an extremely anxious state of mind; he was far from feeling sure that Jean Plessis would be able to carry out his plans. If he failed, it was terrible to think how many years might pass before he should be again blessed with the sight of his beloved Mabel. It was one consolation to him, however, to know that in the then state of France there was no fear of either cruel persecution or death. The government were anxious to wipe away that frightful stain that no time will ever obliterate from the pages of French history.
Still, their youth might pass away, and their day-dreams of love and felicity fade, like almost everything else in this transitory and shifting globe. But young hope struggled in his breast, though some writer, we forget his name, declares, “We believe at once in evil, and never believe in good; but upon reflection this is sad. But we live in hope, and we never cease to indulge in hope to the last.”
As they stretched in with the land to the westward of Havre, about the middle of the first watch, the man on the look-out sung out—