“Then they have chosen a very bad night for it,” said Uncle Paul, laughing.
“Monsieur is right. Nosing would burn. But the enemies of la France, my great country, not stop to think of zat.”
“Oh, but that must be a rumour, Rodd,” said Uncle Paul uneasily. “Why, surely they are not going to fancy that our English schooner is a spy and an enemy!”
The waiter’s ears were sharp, and he cried at once—
“English! Oh non, monsieur. You are from the little two-mast. It is not you. It is some enemy of the King whose sheep is in the harbour, and great dispatches have come to the Governor that she is to be seized. Ah, there again, monsieur! Anozzer gun from the fort.”
It was plain enough to hear, for the windows of the big badly-lit room into which the man had conducted them clattered in their frames, while the dull, heavy report was preceded by a vivid flash as of lightning.
“Ha, ha! You see. The sheep will not get away, for at the forts they are alert and will sink her if she try.”
“Oh, but no vessel could try to put out in a storm like this, Rodd,” said Uncle Paul.
“No, sare,” continued the waiter excitedly; “the boats will go out with the soldiers and take the sheep.”
“She is a man-of-war, I suppose?”