No sooner was the bark on her way than the privateersmen set to work to lift out their injured mainmast, and to replace it with that they had brought on board from the bark.  When daylight broke anxious glances were cast round the horizon; but although a few distant sails were seen, none of these were following a course that would bring them near the brig, and the latter without sail and with her foremast alone standing would not be likely to be noticed.  Ralph could not help admiring the energy with which the crew worked.  Ordinarily they were by no means a smart crew, and did their work in a slow and slovenly manner; but each man now felt the importance of getting everything into order before an enemy appeared, and so well did they work that by midday the new mast was in its place, and before sunset the topmast with all its yards and gear was up and the sails ready for hoisting.

Ralph had been in a state of anxiety in the early part of the night lest he should be sent on board the bark and carried as a prisoner to France.  But no one seemed to give a thought to him, and it was not until far on in the morning that the captain happened to notice him hard at work with the rest.

“Ah, are you there?” he said.  “If I had thought of it I should have sent you into Best in the bark.”

Ralph did not understand the words but he guessed at the meaning, and said, smiling, “I am quite content to remain where I am.”

“Tell him, Jacques Clery, that I have noticed that he works willingly, and as long as he behaves well he shall have the same treatment as if he belonged really to the crew; but warn him that if he is caught at any time making a signal, or doing anything to warn a vessel we may be approaching, his brains will be blown out at once.”

Jacques translated the warning.

“That’s all right,” Ralph said.  “Of course I should expect nothing else.”

As soon as the repairs were completed the sails were hoisted and the brig proceeded on her way.  In the days that followed it seemed to Ralph that the tactics of the privateer had changed, and that there was no longer any idea of making prizes.  A sharp lookout was indeed kept for any English cruisers, but no attention was paid to any sail in the distance as soon as it was determined that these were not ships of war.  Four days later, instead of there being as before five or six sail in sight at one point or other of the horizon, the sea was absolutely deserted.  He remarked upon this to his friend Jacques.  The latter laughed.

“We are out of their course now, my lad.  We passed the latitude of Cape St. Vincent yesterday evening, and we are now pretty well off the coast of Africa.  Nine out of ten of the ships we have seen were either bound to the Mediterranean or on their way home.  Now that we have passed the mouth of the strait we shall not run across many sail.”

“Where are we going to, then?” Ralph said.