“I am glad to get them below, Amos,” said he, “for I fear that we may have trouble yet.”

“And how?”

“You see the white road which runs by the southern bank of the river.  Twice within the last half-hour I have seen horsemen spurring for dear life along it.  Where the spires and smoke are yonder is Honfleur, and thither it was that these men went.  I know not who could ride so madly at such an hour unless they were the messengers of the king.  Oh, see, there is a third one!”

On the white band which wound among the green meadows a black dot could be seen which moved along with great rapidity, vanished behind a clump of trees, and then reappeared again, making for the distant city.  Captain Savage drew out his glass and gazed at the rider.

“Ay, ay,” said he, as he snapped it up again.  “It is a soldier, sure enough.  I can see the glint of the scabbard which he carries on his larboard side.  I think we shall have more wind soon.  With a breeze we can show our heels to anything in French waters, but a galley or an armed boat would overhaul us now.”

De Catinat, who, though he could speak little English, had learned in America to understand it pretty well, looked anxiously at Amos Green.  “I fear that we shall bring trouble on this good captain,” said he, “and that the loss of his cargo and ship may be his reward for having befriended us.  Ask him whether he would not prefer to land us on the north bank.  With our money we might make our way into the Lowlands.”

Ephraim Savage looked at his passenger with eyes which had lost something of their sternness.  “Young man,” said he, “I see that you can understand something of my talk.”

De Catinat nodded.

“I tell you then that I am a bad man to beat.  Any man that was ever shipmates with me would tell you as much.  I just jam my helm and keep my course as long as God will let me.  D’ye see?”

De Catinat again nodded, though in truth the seaman’s metaphors left him with but a very general sense of his meaning.

“We’re comin’ abreast of that there town, and in ten minutes we shall know if there is any trouble waiting for us.  But I’ll tell you a story as we go that’ll show you what kind o’ man you’ve shipped with.  It was ten years ago that I speak of, when I was in the Speedwell, sixty-ton brig, tradin’ betwixt Boston and Jamestown, goin’ south with lumber and skins and fixin’s, d’ye see, and north again with tobacco and molasses.  One night, blowin’ half a gale from the south’ard, we ran on a reef two miles to the east of Cape May, and down we went with a hole in our bottom like as if she’d been spitted on the steeple o’ one o’ them Honfleur churches.  Well, in the morning there I was washin’ about, nigh out of sight of land, clingin’ on to half the foreyard, without a sign either of my mates or of wreckage.  I wasn’t so cold, for it was early fall, and I could get three parts of my body