"Rolls!" repeated Barthelemy starting. "So my presentiment was true. Up, my men! Beat the drums, show the flags, spread every inch of canvas, prepare for the battle! Fear nothing, the god of war is on our side."
The buccaneers seized their weapons, the gunners went to their stations, and Barthelemy withdrew for a few moments to his cabin.
He soon reappeared, wearing on his head a broad-brimmed hat, with a long scarlet plume fastened with a ruby buckle; his costume, studded with gems, was girdled with a Persian shawl; around his neck hung a broad gold chain, sustaining a glittering diamond cross, and in his belt were thrust pistols whose handles were set with pearls. So he came forth, haughty in bearing and magnificently clad, like a bridegroom going to his marriage banquet.
The eyes of all the pirates were fixed upon him. Every one had the firmest belief that nothing was impossible for Barthelemy.
The latter beckoned to Moody and whispered in his ear:
"Old comrade, I need not tell you that this will be the hour of greatest peril which we have ever experienced. We must hold by each other. I have decided to approach the enemy with all sail set, receiving and returning his fire. If he dismasts us, we will try to escape to land; if that fails, we will grapple the enemy and blow both ships into the air."
"Very well," muttered the old pirate, clenching his pipe between his teeth.
"One thing more, Moody. If I should fall, throw my body into the sea. I want to rest on the bottom of the ocean."
The pirate bent his head and growled: "Very well."
Then each man went to his post. Barthelemy drew his sword and, raising his head proudly, cried: "Raise the anchors."