“’Twas civil, brother Cap,” returned the other, lowering his hand from the military salute which his pride as a soldier had induced him to return, —­ “’twas civil, and that’s as much as you can expect from a Frenchman.  What he really meant by it no one can say.”

“He is not heading up to this sea without an object, neither.  Well, let him run in, if he can get there, we will keep the lake, like hearty English mariners.”

This sounded gloriously, but Cap eyed with envy the glittering black mass of the Montcalm’s hull, her waving topsail, and the misty tracery of her spars, as she grew less and less distinct, and finally disappeared in the drizzle, in a form as shadowy as that of some unreal image.  Gladly would he have followed in her wake had he dared; for, to own the truth, the prospect of another stormy night in the midst of the wild waters that were raging around him brought little consolation.  Still he had too much professional pride to betray his uneasiness, and those under his care relied on his knowledge and resources, with the implicit and blind confidence that the ignorant are apt to feel.

A few hours succeeded, and darkness came again to increase the perils of the Scud.  A lull in the gale, however, had induced Cap to come by the wind once more, and throughout the night the cutter was lying-to as before, head-reaching as a matter of course, and occasionally wearing to keep off the land.  It is unnecessary to dwell on the incidents of this night, which resembled those of any other gale of wind.  There were the pitching of the vessel, the hissing of the waters, the dashing of spray, the shocks that menaced annihilation to the little craft as she plunged into the seas, the undying howl of the wind, and the fearful drift.  The last was the most serious danger; for, though exceedingly weatherly under her canvas, and totally without top-hamper, the Scud was so light, that the combing of the swells would seem at times to wash her down to leeward with a velocity as great as that of the surges themselves.

During this night Cap slept soundly, and for several hours.  The day was just dawning when he felt himself shaken by the shoulder; and arousing himself, he found the Pathfinder standing at his side.  During the gale the guide had appeared little on deck, for his natural modesty told him that seamen alone should interfere with the management of the vessel; and he was willing to show the same reliance on those who had charge of the Scud, as he expected those who followed through the forest to manifest in his own skill; but he now thought himself justified in interfering, which he did in his own unsophisticated and peculiar manner.

“Sleep is sweet, Master Cap,” said he, as soon as the eyes of the latter were fairly open, and his consciousness had sufficiently returned, —­ “sleep is sweet, as I know from experience, but life is sweeter still.  Look about you, and say if this is exactly the moment for a commander to be off his feet.”