“I am afraid that it is too late,” said he. “The gentleman engaged the Montespan some days ago, by agent; he paid me the balance of the charter money a short time ago—less than an hour, perhaps—and is now on his way out of the harbor for all I know.”
Longsword, when Ethan translated the shipping-agent’s words, uttered a cry of anger.
“The fox is gone,” said he; “and he’s gone for good unless we can follow him to sea.”
“And that is the very thing that we will do,” cried Ethan, his face flushed with determination. He turned to La Tour and said, “We want a vessel, the swiftest at your command, and we want it at once. Name your price.”
Once more the agent shrugged his shoulders and spread out his hands.
“Impossible,” he said. “I have not a vessel in port at this time that would be of any sort of service to you.” Then he added with a cheerful air of resignation,
“It is most unfortunate, for I can see that you are very anxious to overtake this gentleman. But I hardly think you can do so, for there is no other ship owner in Brest who would risk his vessels putting to sea at this time. The English are as thick as herrings in the channel.”
“No ship!” said Ethan, blankly.
“No, not one,” answered La Tour.
“You are mistaken there,” spoke Captain McHale; “there is a small bit of a lugger wid eight four pounders in her and as much speed as can be found anywhere.” He turned to Ethan and continued, eagerly, “If ye want the Erin, Mister Carlyle, she’s at your service, and welcome.”