"Under the night's dark-blue,
Steering steady and true,
The Lively Bee went through.
And the starry ensign leaped above,
Round which the wind, like a fluttering dove,
Cooed low."
Captain Carter was mad. He had coveted the fair woman and had stained his soul with crime's dark flood to abduct her from her home and to his ship, and had hoped that, when she saw how hopeless was her chance of escape, she would forget her antipathy and consent to be his wife.
He had tried every form of persuasion, had even promised to leave the sea and settle on land, and as an extra inducement had offered to abjure his country and become an American citizen.
But only the more determined was the fair one to withstand his wooing.
All this passed in review across his mind as he paced his cabin uneasily.
He was wretched. Perhaps the constant blowing of the fog horn added to his wretchedness, for there is nothing more melancholy than the sound made by the human breath when it passes through one of those instruments of torture known as a fog horn.
"What now?" he asked angrily as the officer in charge entered the captain's cabin.
"A boat is coming alongside, sir."
"A boat? Then it must be from the Poietiers."