Vince had hardly grasped this fact, when the boat was run up alongside, one of the men sprang into the lugger with the boat’s painter and made it fast, while the boat seemed to tug to get away, and the captain turned to his prisoners.
“Aboard!” he said sharply; and as there was nothing for it but to obey, Vince made a virtue of necessity, and going forward, climbed up and over the bulwark, to stand upon a beautifully white deck, and see that rigging, sails and spars were all in the highest state of order.
Six or eight men were waiting, and they came aft at once, to stand as if waiting for orders, while Mike and the captain stepped on board.
“Back at once!” said the Frenchman to a stern-looking, red-faced man, who appeared to be the mate. “All ze boats; and work hard to get all on board.”
This order was given in a low tone, but Vince’s ears were sharpened by his position, and he divined its full meaning.
The men hurried to the side, and rapidly began to lower one of the boats hanging to the davits; while in his close scrutiny Vince grasped the fact that they were upon no peaceful vessel: there being a couple of longish guns forward, and another pair aft, all evidently in the best of trim, and ready for use at a very short notice.
While the men were busy the captain came to where the boys were standing together aft, and laying his hands upon their shoulders, he led them forward to where one of the stout hawsers ran over the side to the great ring secured in the rock.
“You see zat hawser, mon ami?” he said.
“Yes,” said Vince wonderingly.
“Look you zen at ze ozaire.”