The cannonading ceased.  For a time that seemed endless there was silence, save for a shout now and then, and a thud that might be caused by the work of replacing or repairing an injured spar.  Suddenly the hatch above was lifted, raised, and when our eyes became accustomed to the light we saw men swarming down the ladder into the hold.  A French seaman among them relit the lamp, and we recognized the faces of some of our comrades on the Dolphin.  Among the first I saw old Dilly, and behind him came Cyrus Vetch, his countenance black with rage.  As soon as he was among us he launched out into bitter complaints at being herded with common seamen—­he who by right and courtesy ought to have been classed with the officers and allowed the hospitality of a cabin.

“’Tis infamous,” he cried; “’tis a scandal to treat a gentleman with such indignity.  Duguay-Trouin was not so served when he was brought prisoner to Plymouth.”

“Stow your jab!” cried the mate angrily.  “Ain’t we good enough for you?  What’s a land lubber like you doing here at all?  We ain’t aboard the Dolphin now, I’ll let ye know, and here we’re all equal, and smite my eye, if you complains of your company, and gives honest seamen any more of your paw-wawing, ’ware timbers is what I say to you, my gemman, or I’ll rake you fore and aft.”

From which it may be concluded that Vetch was by no means a favorite with the crew of the Dolphin.

Chapter 14:  Harmony And Some Discord.

From Dilly I learned that the Dolphin had suffered severely in the engagement.  A third of the crew had been killed or wounded:  Captain Cawson himself was dead.  The survivors had been divided, some being left in the Dolphin, the remainder being brought to the Francois; among these were the more severely wounded, who were tended with much humanity in the sick bay.

Now that the chase and the fight were over, we were allowed on deck a few at a time, a boon for which I was very grateful.  I was surprised at the youth of our captor, the renowned Duguay-Trouin.  He looked little older than myself, and was in fact, as I afterwards discovered, but twenty-three years of age.

His youthful appearance somewhat heartened me.  Here was a man (so ran my thought) but little my senior, yet he had already won a great name for daring and courage; he had been captured and imprisoned, but had escaped, and was now again active in his vocation.  Other men as well as I had their mischances and surmounted them:  why should not I?  Thus it happened that when, a few days later, we arrived at the French port of St. Malo, and were handed over to the authorities of the prison there, I was not so depressed in spirits as I had expected to be.

This was fortunate, for the lot to which we were condemned was miserable in the extreme.  We had wretched quarters, foul and unhealthy; some five hundred prisoners, most of them captured in merchant vessels, were herded in a space not large enough for the comfortable habitation of half that number.  In my heart I fully sympathized with Vetch’s objection to being classed among the seamen, for they were in the main a sorry lot, filthy in their habits and base minded.  Some, like old Dilly, were of a higher type, and these consorted together as much as possible.