“Then there’ll be a fight?” said the latter.
“Ay, there’ll be a fight,” said the cook. “We’re in for it now; but unless it’s done with the big guns they won’t take the Marie.”
“Why?” said Vince. “Jacques daren’t resist the King’s men.”
The cook chuckled. “You wait and see,” he said. “Look at him.”
The boys did look, and saw Jacques standing by the steersman, with a drawn sword in one hand and pistols in his belt, hardly seeming to notice the boats, which had separated, one making for the schooner and the other for the Belle-Marie.
“Pilot sees mischief,” said the cook. “He’s going back. So would I if I could. I say, young ’uns, you’d better go below, hadn’t you?”
“No,” said Vince sharply. “You won’t, will you, Ladle?”
“No: I want to see,” replied Mike; and they stood and watched the rapidly approaching boat, with the smartly uniformed officer in the stern sheets, and the sailors making the water sparkle as they sent the trim craft rapidly nearer.
“Ha, ha!” laughed the cook softly; and the boys were about to turn and ask him what he meant, when a movement on the part of the captain caught their attention, while a wave of his hand made his men spring to their feet.
The cutter’s boat was still fifty yards away, when a sudden puff of wind struck the lugger, her heavy canvas filled out, and she began instantly to yield to the pressure, gliding softly through the water, and putting fifty yards more between her and the boat.