"Not a farden's worth, sir," replied Turley. "Well above water-line."
"Here's another! Look out!" shouted Babbage.
But the second shot whizzed harmlessly by; then the sloops and other vessels faded from sight; and the buoyant little cutter began to courtesy to the waves of the Channel, showing white-crested in the gloom.
CHAPTER XII
THE CAPTURE OF THE GLORIEUSE
For some time Jack was too busy in navigating the vessel, too anxiously looking out for pursuers, to take stock of the situation on board the Fury. But as soon as he felt that he was fairly safe, he went round the cutter to inquire. One of his men and five Frenchmen had been killed in the boarding operations. These were at once committed to the deep, for with a crew of nearly seventy, and twenty prisoners, there was already too little room on board. Many had been wounded on both sides; and Jack found that his men had the more serious, though not the most numerous, wounds; for while they had been pinked and slashed with cutlasses, the Frenchmen had received only bad bruises from the unusual weapons wielded by their opponents. Several of the men who had served in the sick bay on English warships had already done their best—it was but little in those days of ignorance and unskilful surgery—to attend to the wounded.
The French crew had apparently consisted of about forty men; arms for that number were discovered. Among the prisoners were the captain and lieutenant, whom Jack at once sought out and invited to share the cabin with himself. They were very crestfallen at their defeat; but when Jack, mustering his best French (which was not very good), made his best bow (which was charming), and said—"Je vous restore, Messieurs, vos épées, pour vous—vous—vous—(Hang it! What's the French for 'show'?)—pour vous displayer mon admiration de votre brave—. (Can't think of the French for 'fight.')—votre courage dans la bataille"—when Jack came to the end of this halting speech and smiled very unaffectedly, the Frenchmen returned his smile and his bow, and the captain, as he received his sword, said fervently:
"Monsieur, je vous rends grâce de votre noble conduite, qui est digne, assurément, d'un honnête homme."
Jack bowed and smiled again, wondering what he had done that was specially "honest." Like many another Jack since then, he was too apt to jump to conclusions.
He had never navigated the Channel, but he set the course of the cutter by the compass, intending to run as straight as he could for Wynport. Toward daybreak the wind shifted to the southeast and then to the southwest, and to Jack's disappointment dropped to a light breeze scarcely strong enough to disperse the thin fog that lay over the sea. There seemed little hope of a quick passage to the English coast. Jack was speculating on his chances of getting clear of the French shore when he was startled by the cry: