“Oh! that,” replied the phlegmatic pilot; “a darned pity it is,” he added; “but if you must, you must. Darn the luck! We’d a-beat them into shucks in another quarter, I reckon. Darn the luck!”
“We must give it up,” said the Captain. “Turn her head in.”
Saying this, he hurried below; and, observing his excited manner, I followed him.
A group of ladies stood upon the guard-way where the Captain descended over the wheel-house. The Creole was among them.
“Mademoiselle,” said the Captain, addressing himself to this lady, “we must lose the race after all.”
“Why?” asked she in surprise; “are there not enough? Antoine! have you delivered them all?”
“No, Mademoiselle,” replied the Captain, “it is not that, thanks to your generosity. You see those lights?”
“Yes—well?”
“That is Bringiers.”
“Oh! it is, is it?”