O’Grady and Reuben required no second bidding. The former, however, very nearly forgot Paul’s clothes. He sprang back for them, and narrowly escaped a tumble into the water.
“You dress while we pull out to look for a fit craft,” said Paddy, seizing a paddle. But Paul kept hold of his own, in his eagerness declaring that he did not feel the cold.
To select a craft was easy; but it was possible that there might be people on board who might dispute their possession. However, that must be risked. O’Grady pointed out a small sloop of some eight or ten tons. She was not likely to have many people on board. They must be surprised and silenced immediately. While the boat drifted alongside, Paul put on his clothes. It would not have been pleasant to fight as he was; and besides, he might not have had time to dress afterwards. Taking care that their boat should not strike against the side of the little vessel, the three adventurers leaped on board as noiselessly as possible. The after hatch was closed. No one could be in the cabin. But as they crept forward they discovered that the fore hatch was open. Reuben signed that he would go down first. The midshipmen waited an instant, when they heard a noise, and leaping down they found their companion struggling with a powerful man, whom a boy, who had just leaped out of his berth, was about to assist.
“You are our prisoners,” cried Paul, throwing himself on the boy; while O’Grady assisted Reuben, and so completely turned the tables, that the Frenchman was quickly secured. The boy who had struggled bravely with Paul, for the purpose, it seemed, of getting his head up the hatchway to sing out, then gave in.
“You will be well treated, my friends, if you remain quiet; but if you make the slightest noise, I cannot answer for your lives,” said Paul.
To prevent any risk of the sort the hatch was clapped on after they had examined the vessel.
“We will get ready to make sail, while you, Gerrard, cut the cable, and then go to the helm,” said O’Grady. “Cut!” he cried, in a few seconds.
A light breeze came off the land. Paul cut, and then hurried to the helm. He started as he turned his glance towards the shore; for there, in the direction of the old tower, a bright light was burning. It quickly increased in magnitude—bright flames burst forth. “It must be the old tower itself,” he thought, for there was no time to say anything. The flames increased, and it now became evident that it was the tower itself; for the whole building was soon wrapped in flames, the glare reaching far down the harbour, and lighting up the sails of their vessel.
“We shall be seen and pursued, I’m afraid,” cried Paul.
“Seen, or not, we must stand on; and at all events we shall have the start of them,” answered O’Grady. “It’s not impossible that they may think we have perished in the flames. I am sorry, though, for Reuben Cole’s timber toe. Ha! ha! ha! it would have enraged the monsieurs to find that they had been so completely duped.”