her waist-cloths.  The hawsers of the lugger were cut, and le Feu-Follet started back like an affrighted steed.  It was only to let go the brails, and her foresail fell.  Light, and feeling the breeze, which now came in strong puffs, she shot out of the little bay, and wore short round on her keel.  Two or three of the English boats attempted to follow, but it was idle.  Winchester, who now commanded, recalled them, saying that it remained for the ships to perform their task.  The day had been too bloody, indeed, to think of more than securing the present success, and of attending to the hurt.

Leaving the party on the islets for a moment, we will follow the two vessels in their attempt to escape.  Pintard and his companions abandoned Raoul with heavy hearts, but they plainly saw him prostrated on the rocks, and by the hand placed on his side understood the desperate nature of his wound.  Like him, they felt some such interest as one entertains for a beloved mistress in the fate of the lugger, and the words—­“sauve mon Feu-Follet!” were ringing in their ears.

As soon as the lugger got round, she set her after-sail, and then she began to glide through the water with the usual knife-like parting of the element under her bows.  The course she steered took her directly out of the bay, seeming to lead across the forefoots of the English ships.  Ithuel did not imitate this manoeuvre.  He kept more away in the line for Paestum, rightly enough believing that, in the greedy desire to overtake the lugger, his own movement would pass unheeded.  The owner of this craft was still on board the Terpsichore; but every remonstrance, and all the requests he made that his own vessel might be followed and captured, were utterly unheeded by the lieutenant now in command.  To him, as to all others in authority, there seemed to be but one thing desirable, and that was to secure the lugger.  Of course none yet knew of the fatal character of the struggle on the rocks, or of the death of the English leader; though the nature of the result was sufficiently understood by seeing the English Jack flying among the ruins, and the two vessels under weigh, endeavoring to escape.

The season was now so far advanced as to render the old stability of the breezes a little uncertain.  The zephyr had come early, and it had come fresh; but there were symptoms of a sirocco about the barometer and in the atmosphere.  This rendered all in the ships eager to secure their prize before a shift of wind should come.  Now that there were three fast vessels in chase, none doubted of the final result; and Cuffe paced the quarter-deck of the Proserpine, rubbing his hands with delight, as he regarded all the propitious signs of the times.