"I will put a man in the chains with the lead," the boatswain said to Cyril. "There are very bad sands off Dunkirk, and though we might get over them in safety, the big ships would take ground, and if they did so we should be in a bad plight indeed."
"In that case, we had best slack out the sheet a little, and take up our post on the weather bow of the Admiral, so that we can signal to him if we find water failing."
The topsail was hoisted, and the Fan Fan, which was a very fast craft in comparatively smooth water, ran past the Admiral's flagship.
"Shall I order him back, your Grace?" the Captain asked angrily.
Albemarle looked at the Fan Fan attentively.
"They have got a man sounding," he said. "It is a wise precaution. The young fellow in command knows what he is doing. We ought to have been taking the same care. See! he is taking down his topsail again. Set an officer to watch the yacht, and if they signal, go about at once."
The soundings continued for a short time at six fathoms, when suddenly the man at the lead called out sharply,—
"Three fathoms!"
Cyril ran to the flagstaff, and as the next cry came—"Two fathoms!"—hauled down the flag and stood waving his cap, while the boatswain, who had gone to the tiller, at once pushed it over to starboard, and brought the yacht up into the wind. Cyril heard orders shouted on board the flagship, and saw her stern sweeping round. A moment later her sails were aback, but the men, who already clustered round the guns, were not quick enough in hauling the yards across, and, to his dismay, he saw the main topmast bend, and then go over the side with a crash. All was confusion on board, and for a time it seemed as if the other topmast would also go.
"Run her alongside within hailing distance," Cyril said to the boatswain. "They will want to question us."