"Drunk!" whispered Mr. Cassar without either envy or malice.
"Full to the guards," assented his commander. "Hark!"
Someone was singing, a full youthful voice of brazen vibrant quality, a voice with an ineluctable and derisive challenge to confident hearts. Though he did not understand the words, Mr. Spokesly was aware of this challenge as he listened:
"Auf, deutches Volk, du stark Geschlecht
Es schlug die grosse Stunde,
Steh auf und sei nicht länger Knecht
Mit Kraft und mut steh für dein Recht
Im heilgen Volke bunde!"
There was a pause, with protests and guttural amusement which were suddenly engulfed in a clarion shout:
"Die Freiheit bricht die Ketten!"
"Go ahead," said Mr. Spokesly, looking back as he sat in the stern, "and make as little noise as you can."
Out of the darkness came the faint clarion call he had already heard that night:
"Isolde! Geliebte! Bist du mein?"
and the sound, with its echoes from the mountain, seemed to stream out of that open window he had left. Suddenly, with a resolute movement, he turned and bent to the business of steering. The boat was moving through the water.