“I heard nothing of the landing-parties,” he said as the French sailor approached.

“The reason is not far to search for,” he replied.  “They did not land at all, and I did not much expect that they would.  The boats from the frigate arrived a few minutes before I lighted my fire.  I was lying down at the edge of the cliff, looking right down upon her deck.  They came up in a body, rowing with muffled oars.  I could just hear the sound of their talking when they came on deck.  As soon as I had the fire fairly alight I saw your signal and then went back to watch them.  Everything was quiet till I heard the boom of the first gun; then I heard ‘Silence!’ ordered on the schooner.  I suppose some one had said that he heard a gun, and other’s didn’t.  Of course the sound did not come to them under the shelter of the cliff as it did to me.  Then came the sound of another gun, and then three or four close together; then orders were given sharply, the capstan was manned and the anchor run up, and they were not a minute getting her sails set.  But under the shelter of the cliff there was not enough wind to fill them, and so the boats were manned, and she went gliding away until I could no longer make her out.  They guessed, of course, that our craft were making off, and went to help the frigate.”

“They were too late to be of any use, Jacques.”

“Ah! you have seen them from the top of the hill.  I did not think of that.  What is the news?”

“The frigate was in chase of one of them.  It was too far for me to see which.  I should say he was two or three miles ahead, certainly well out of gunshot, and as far as I could see during the hour I was watching them, was increasing her lead.  Unless the wind freshens I think she is safe.  The other two were on the opposite tack, ten or twelve miles away to the west.  The schooner was heading after them, but was at least fifteen miles from them.”

“She is very fast in a light wind like this, they say.”

“Well, if she should catch them, they ought to be able to beat her off, Jacques, as they are two to one.  So far I think your chance of getting your three shares is a good one.”

“Maybe, lad.  I have not had much luck so far.  I began on the sea when I was eleven.  At twenty-one I had to go into the navy, and it was seven years later when I got back to Dunkirk after that spell in the prison.  I did not report myself, for I had no wish to do any more man-of-wars’ work; and now I have had six years privateers’ work, and have not made much by it.  If I get back this time and get those three shares I will buy a fine fishing smack for myself and a snug little house on shore.  There is some one I promised—­if the voyage turned out well—­she should have a nice little house of her own, and she promised to wait for me.  After that, no more long voyages for me.  I suppose we may as well go down to the harbor now, lad.  They are sure to come back sooner or later, whether they catch any of the privateers or not.”