“Help, my lads,” said Elim. “One of you stay to mind the boat, the rest follow me.”

  And he sprang ashore with a pistol in each hand.

  At twenty yards from the boat he found Jane motionless and lying like a corpse.

  He seized her in his arms and carried her towards the boat.

  But her pursuers were close upon her. Elim faced round. At two paces from him was Cabaret, some distance in advance of his men.

  “Stop, yourself! or you are a dead man!” cried Elim.

  The bandit stopped, but only for the purpose of raising his carbine to his shoulder.

  But before he had rested his cheek against the stock, Elim fired, a flash gleamed in the darkness, and Cabaret, pierced to the heart by the lieutenant’s bullet, rolled over on the sand.

  Elim jumped into the boat.

  “Now, my lads, pull! pull for all you’re worth; not only are our own lives at stake, but hers too.”

  “The young mistress!” cried Yorsko. “Bravo, Lieutenant, well done!”

  “Firel” shouted a man from the shore, pointing at the boat, which was rapidly making off like a belated sea-bird.

  The bullets spent themselves in the darkness; one only of them, striking the sea, drenched Jane’s face with water.

  “Thank you for the honour you do us, gentlemen! cried Yorsko.

  The water splashing into Jane’s face made the girl open her eyes.

  She was in her lover’s arms.

  “Elim! dear Elim!’ she cried.

  And their lips met in a long and tender embrace; the poor children had thought themselves separated for ever, and lo! the finger of God was reuniting them.

  Suddenly Elim felt himself touched on the shoulder by Yorsko.

  “Well?’ ‘he asked.

  “Whyl don’t you see? — ”

  “What?”

  “That we can see nothing, Lieutenant.’’ And, in point of fact, a dense fog had just spread over the surface of the sea.

  “Don’t row another stroke! I hear the breakers.”

  The sailors stopped rowing. Elim laid Jane on the thwart and stood up in order to listen.

  “The reefs are to starboard,” he said.

  “And to port as well, Lieutenant,” said Yorsko, “do you hear?”

  It was but too true; on both sides could be heard the sound of the waves as they dashed against the reefs.

  Elim looked in alarm at Jane.

  “Have we lost our bearings, Lieutenant?” asked one of the sailors.

  “No,” said Elim; “on the contrary, I know only too well where we are.”

  “There is a passage, no doubt,” said Yorsko.

  “Possibly,” said Elim; “but who will show us it?”

  “The custom-house man who is lying in the bottom of the boat,” said Yorsko. “I fancy that he ought to know it, as it is his business to patrol the coast.”

  “By God, Yorsko, you are right. Ungag him, but without untying his feet or hands.”

  Then, turning to the girl, —

  “Don’t be afraid, Jane dear,” said he.

  “Why should I be afraid, Elim? Shall I not die with you, if I must die?”

  The custom-house man was ungagged.

  “The reefs I the reefs!” he cried as soon as he had recovered speech.

  “Good! he is afraid!” said Elim. “Well, yes, we are on the reefs.”

  “But there is a passage,” replied the man, whose terror increased in proportion as the sound became more audible.

  “Can you find the passage?” said Elim. “I promise you not only your life and your liberty, but a hundred ducats into the bargain if you find it.”

  “I could find it blindfolded, Lieutenant.”

  “Untie his hands and give him the rudder.”

  His hands were promptly untied, and he took his place at the helm.

  Elim sat beside him and cocked his second pistol.

  “All right, all right,” said the custom-house man, visibly terrified by the noise of the waves against the rocks, and putting the helm to starboard, “give way, give way hard!”

  Elim repeated the order in Russian.

  The sailors bent to the oars, and the little boat flew over the surface of the sea.

  “Not too near the coast!” said Elim.

  “But look on the port side,” said the man.

  And, truly enough, a long line of foam gleamed through the darkness; and, as the fog was dense, it was clear that the boat must be skirting the reefs at hardly twenty yards’ distance.

  “It will be impossible with this wind to make the open sea in a small boat, Lieutenant Elim,” said one of the sailors.

  “Would you rather go back ashore and fall into the hands of the French?” replied Elim.

  Then turning to the pilot, —

  “Courage!” he cried.

  “I am risking my own life at the same time as yours,” answered the custom-house man; “you can make your mind easy, I will do my best.”

  It was the best answer he could have made.

  Elim took Jane in his arms again, and wrapped her in his cloak under the pretext of protecting her from the cold, but in reality to shut out the danger from her eyes.

  Less resigned than she, he said to himself that it would be indeed a cruel fate if they should be brought together for a brief moment, only to be parted again for ever.

  He had, however, retained the use of his eyes, and did not take them off the line of foam whose incessant roar filled his ears with terror.

  At last he seemed to see a break in that line at a place where, for three or four cables’ length, the sea appeared to be calm.

  “The passage!” he said to the custom-house man.

  “I see it all right,” said the latter, porting the helm.

  The little boat answered to the rudder like a horse obedient to the rein, and in an instant had left the line of reefs behind and found herself in the open sea.

  They were now, however, in greater danger, perhaps, than before, and, as Yorsko had said, it was impossible to keep the sea in such a tiny craft.

  The fog at the same time was growing more and more dense.

  “I have done all that I undertook to do,” said the custom-house officer in a tone of discouragement; “put me to death now, if you will, but I can do no more.”

  “True,” said Elim, almost as much discouraged as the other.

  And pressing Jane to his heart, he let his head fall with a sigh on the child’s head.

  He saw clearly that in this frail boat they could not proceed half a mile without being capsized.

  Suddenly Elim raised his head; he had just heard the sound of a distant bell.

  Nowhere does the sound of a bell travel so far as at sea and during the night; you might imagine that some bird with wings of bronze was skimming the wares.

  “One, two, three,” counted Elim.

  And the last stroke died away with a long vibration. “That sound doesn’t come from shore, Lieutenant,” said Yorsko, “the distance is too great.”

  An idea flashed across Elim’s mind; he turned towards their Dutch pilot, and observed that he was gazing with an expression of delight in the direction from which the sound of the bell had come.

  “I understand,” said Elim to him, “we are close to your sloop, and they have just struck the hour aboard of her.”

  “Very likely,” said the Dutchman.

  “How many men on board?” asked Elim.

  “Enough to string the lot of you up to the yards like lanterns.”

  “You won’t enjoy that sight, my friend, whatever happens, for you will be a dead man long before.”

  Then, with a frown, and placing his pistol to the man’s head, he repeated, —

  “How many men are there?”

  “Twelve,” replied the pilot laconically, seeing that the young lieutenant was in no humour for joking. Then turning to the sailors, —

  “My lads,” said he, “the good God has sent us a vessel which can keep the sea; it only remains for us to take her.”

  “In that case, Lieutenant, the thing is already done,” answered Yorsko.

  “There are a dozen men in the crew.”

  “They are not on the look out, we are; the proverb says, ‘One man forearmed is worth two who are not,’ so we are twelve to twelve — ”

  “But there is the young mistress,” added Yorsko, nodding his head in the direction of Jane.

  “One of you will look after her.”

  “Ah! then we shall be only five, that is to say, only ten against twelve — but bah! custom-house men, and Dutchmen into the bargain!” said Yorsko.

  All this was said in Russian, so that Jane understood nothing of it.

  “My lads,” continued Elim, addressing the sailors, “you understand the situation, don’t you? We are playing a difficult game; but, in face of the words — ’ It must be done ‘ — none of you, I hope, will recoil. Besides, I will show you the way, and you will follow me.”

  “Through water as through fire, to paradise or lo hell!” answered the sailors with one voice.

  “Thanks, my lads; with you I could reach the moon: examine your guns, and the moment we come alongside the sloop, jump aboard and kill all who resist.”

  Then turning to the custom-house pilot, —

  “As for you,” he said, “you know our agreement.”

  “Pull away,” said the pilot, turning the rudder in the required direction.

  At the end of five minutes they perceived the vessel, which was rocking quietly on the waves.

  A single sentry was pacing the deck.

  By the movement which the sentry made Elim saw that they were discovered.

  “Look out!” said he, again placing his pistol to the pilot’s head.

  “Who goes there?” cried the sentry.

  The pilot gave the password.

  “All right!” muttered the sentinel.

  And turning away quite unsuspectingly, he summoned the chief officer.

  “Am I going to leave you, Elim?” cried Jane in terror. “Oh! I can’t leave you, even for a moment.”

  “Cling round my neck, then; we have reached our destination.”

  The boat had, in point of fact, now come alongside the sloop. Elim supported Jane with one arm, while with the other he caught hold of a rope, and was the first to spring on board the sloop.

  The five Russians followed their lieutenant.

  The sentry tried to give the alarm, but before he could utter a word he was hurled overboard.

  The Bussians were masters of the deck.

  Elim took out his purse and threw it to the pilot, who had remained in the boat.

  “Here,” said he, “a Russian always keeps his word.

  There is your money, to begin with; as for your liberty, you have got it; while as for your life, it depends on yourself, my friend; you found your way here, and you can find it back again.”

  Then, addressing his men, without paying any further attention to the pilot, who, with an oar in each hand, had already begun to draw away from the vessel, — Clap down the sailors’ hatchways, my lads,” said he; “I will take charge of that of the officers.”

  “Where are you going?” asked Jane.

  “To pay a visit to Captain Montane, most probably,” said Elim; “but, as he is a bachelor, it wouldn’t be proper for a young lady to go and see him; so sit down and wait for me.”

  Reassured by the humorous tone adopted by her lover, Jane did as she was ordered.

  Elim wrapped her in his cloak: selfish lover that he was, he would not have the girl’s cheeks lose any of their roses.

  Then he went softly down the officers’ gangway, and, guided by the sound of voices, made for the door of the cabin. Ascertaining that the key was on the outside, he bent his head down and looked through the keyhole.

  He was not mistaken: the captain, seated at table with two of his lieutenants, was drinking bumpers of champagne.

  “Ah! Captain,” one of the lieutenants was saying, “you have done it neatly, upon my word.”

  “To Mademoiselle Jane’s health!” said the other.

  “To Jane’s health!” repeated the captain, emphasizing the baptismal name, without its accompanying title of respect. “Thank you, gentlemen.”

  And the three officers emptied their glasses.

  “Go and fetch your mates,” said Elim to Yorsko.

  “I understand,” said the latter, going off on tiptoe.

  Elim continued to look and to listen.

  The captain uncorked a third bottle.

  “And the dear lover,” asked one of the lieutenants, “what are you going to do with him?”

  “Ah! her lover, that’s quite another matter,” said Montane with an evil smile; “he is to be brought here to me tied and bound; after which we shall ship him off to France, so as not to be annoyed by his lover’s complainings.”

  “Here we are, Lieutenant,” said Yorsko.

  “All right,” answered Elim; “be silent, and do as you see me do.”

  “Well, Captain,” said one of the lieutenants, “let us be generous.”

  “With all my heart,” said the captain, throwing himself into a chair with a self-conceited air, —

  “Out with it, Lieutenant, what is it?”

  “To the health of the poor lover! It is the least you can do for him, Captain.”

  “Ha! a good idea!” cried Montane. “To the health of the poor lover, as you say; and I only regret that he is not here to give point to the toast.”

  “Your wish is answered, Captain,” said Elim, opening the door: “here he is.”

  The three officers gazed in stupefaction at the newcomer, who had sprung from nobody knew where. Elim stepped forward to the table, filled a glass, and, raising it above his head, repeated, —

  “To the health of the poor lover!”

  Then, turning to his sailors, —

  “Shout hurrah! all of you,” he said in Russian.

  The sailors shouted hurrah! in chorus.

  Elim emptied his glass.

  “Well, gentlemen, don’t you drink?”

  Captain Montane, who had recognized Elim, trembled so violently that his glass emptied itself.

  The other two officers, not understanding what was happening, set their glasses down on the table and put their hands to their swords.

  “No resistance, gentlemen,” said Elim; “we are masters of your ship, and should you doubt the fact, here is the proof: come in, my lads!”

  The five sailors entered with their guns in their hands. “Captain,” said Elim, addressing Montane, “this is one of those tricks which Fate sometimes plays us. Instead of my being in your power, it is you who are in mine; instead of my being shipped off to France, it is you who will go and travel in Russia; but you won’t be badly off, as you will get there in time for the sleighing. Your weapons, gentlemen.”

  There was no possibility of resistance; accordingly the three officers gave up their swords.

  “Yorsko,” continued Elim, “take these gentlemen to the lieutenant’s cabin; we want this one for a lady.”

  CHAPTER XI

  A HURRIED MARRIAGE

  WE know for what lady the cabin was destined.

  The moment Jane was settled in it, Elim, taking command of the sloop, gave orders to weigh anchor.

  “Suppose we were merely to cut the cable?” said Yorsko.

  “Quite right; that is much the quickest way.”

  Yorsko seized a hatchet and severed the cable, and the ship began to drift.

  But almost immediately Elim gave orders for the sails to be unfurled, the wind which was blowing off shore filled them, and the little sloop, though somewhat clumsy in build, ploughed the waves merrily enough.

  At dawn Elim perceived the line of warships forming the blockade.

  A small cutter, which acted each night as scout to the fleet, was making for them.

  The young officer in command of the cutter perceived, from her build and the cut of her rigging, that the sloop was Dutch. He fired upon her with his one gun.

  And, having given the alarm, he hastened to rejoin the fleet.

  In an instant all the batteries of the fleet were lighted up with lanterns.

  Elim seized a speaking-trumpet and shouted, —

  “Do not fire; I am a Russian, bringing in a Dutch vessel.”

  His voice, however, died away in space.

  A flame shot from the port-hole of the nearest vessel, and a ball, ricochetting on their port side, sent the water flying over the deck.

  “What the deuce are they up to, Yorsko?” asked Elim.

  “Can’t you see, Lieutenant; they are firing at us.”

  “But they will sink us!”

  “In about ten minutes, unless — ”

  A second ball cut short Yorsko’s words and severed the main-yard at the same moment.

  “Unless what?” asked Elim.

  “Unless we alter our flag, Lieutenant.”

  Elim raised his head; the Dutch flag was floating proudly at the peak of the sloop.

  “You can see for yourself, Lieutenant,” said Yorsko, “that they think we are coming to board them.”

  “What a fool I am!” said Elim.

  Then, turning to his men, —

  “Down with the Dutch flag,” said he, “and hoist this handkerchief.”

  The Dutch flag was lowered, and Elim’s handkerchief took its place.

  Before the exchange had time to take effect, a third ball buried itself in the fore part of the sloop.

  But the firing ceased when the white handkerchief, which indicates a vessel bearing a flag of truce, was observed.

  Elim cast his eyes over the fleet and recognized his own ship.

  “Steer for the Vladimir, Yorsko,” said he; “you must be in a hurry, like myself, to get home again.”

  Yorsko steered towards the Vladimir.

  It now began to be light enough to distinguish what was going on in the fleet.

  The crews of all the vessels, aroused by the shots which had just been fired, were on the decks and shrouds.

  No less curiosity was evinced on board the Vladimir, towards which, in preference to the other vessels, the sloop appeared to be steering.

  “Good!” said Elim, “there is Nicolas Alexiovitch looking at us through his spy-glass.”

  Then, taking up the speaking-trumpet, he shouted, — “Halloa! Nicolas Alexiovitch, good morning.”

 

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