As the vessel drew nearer, the little garrison began to bustle with activity, and continued in the same fashion for some while. Two of the soldier-women would come out of the fort, stroll down to the shore, examine the stranger with an apparently mild curiosity, and then walk off together over the hills. Meanwhile the others, including Rupert, would come and go, disappearing and reappearing in all directions with the aid of the rocky ravines and clumps of trees upon the island. The idea of all this was to convince the new-comers, whoever they might be, that the fort’s garrison remained unimpaired, and took no special notice of a single vessel. That the scheme had a certain effect was shown in the fact that the stranger came to anchor far down the harbor, well out of range of Fort George’s cannon. It looked very much as if the appearance of these redcoats coming and going about the island had impressed her commander unfavorably.
After some delay the ship hoisted a French ensign, and a small boat put off from her side and headed for the fort landing. This boat contained three men—two rowing, and one in the stern holding aloft a piece of white cloth. It was evidently a flag of truce, coming to parley.
Although his worst fears were now realized, and they plainly had a formidable enemy to deal with, Rupert never wavered, but proceeded to dispose of his forces in the best manner possible. Leaving only the sentry upon the parapet, he marched out of the fort at the head of the others, as if they merely constituted a suitable escorting party. One of the squad he had equipped beforehand with a flag of truce similar to that carried by the man in the boat. The drummer drew up his little company in a single rank upon the glacis, about half-way between the intrenchments and the water’s edge. At such a distance their disguises could not be discovered. Alone he advanced to the border of the pebble-strewn strand, and there awaited the coming of the emissary.
The latter was wary of approaching too hastily. He bade his oarsmen back the skiff stern first to within ten or fifteen yards of the shore. Then he stopped them, and, while they kept the boat in position with gentle strokes, he held converse with the intrepid drummer by means of lusty shoutings.
“I wish to speak with your Commandant,” began the stranger, using good English, yet with a decided Gallic accent. “You are only a child.... A drummer-boy?... Am I not right?... I judged so by your small stature and pretty coat.... Inform the Commandant of your fort that I desire a few words with him.”
“It is impossible,” replied Rupert, coolly.
“What? Impossible?”
“Yes; I regret to say that the Commandant will not be able to see you at present. But I am his representative, and can also act as your messenger if you have something of importance to transmit.”
“O-ho! We are very high and mighty, it seems!” retorted the stranger, angrily. “Like should have like for meals. I will not be so civil as I first intended. Tell your Commandant that my name is Rabentine—Captain Rabentine. I have the honor of commanding La Belle Cerise, privateer, of St. Malo.”
“A French privateer!” ejaculated Rupert.