CHAPTER X.
DOES HE ESCAPE?
A few moments later, one of those little boats called a "gig," especially designed for the captain's use, left the ship. In this boat there were two men, the old passenger in the stern, and the sailor who had volunteered to go, in the bow. The night was still very dark. The sailor, conforming to the captain's design, rowed vigorously in the direction of the Minquiers. No other way of escape was possible. Some provisions had been thrown in the bottom of the boat, a bag of biscuit, a smoked beefs tongue, and a cask of water.
"As soon as the boat touched the water, la Vieuville, scoffer even in the face of destruction, leaned over the stern of the corvette and sneered out this farewell to the boat: "She is a good one for escape, and a fine one for drowning."
"Sir," said the pilot, "jest no more."
The boat quickly rowed off, and was almost immediately a good distance away from the corvette. Wind and waves seconded the oarsman, and the little craft was rapidly making her escape, rocking in the twilight, and concealed in the great furrows of the waves.
A strange, gloomy suspense hung over the sea.
Suddenly, in this vast, tumultuous ocean silence, rose a voice, which, increased by the speaking-trumpet, as by the brazen mask of ancient tragedy, seemed almost superhuman.
It was Captain Boisberthelot who was speaking,—
"Mariners of the king," he cried, "nail the white flag to the main-mast. We are going to see our last sunrise."
And a cannon shot left the corvette.
"Long live the king!" shouted the crew.
Then from the edge of the horizon was heard another cry, immense, distant, confused, but yet distinct,—
