With blanched cheeks she stood by the cabin table, and cried out to Levasseur to stop.  To obey her, he opened the door, and flung her brother through it.

“Put that rubbish under hatches until I call for it again,” he roared, and shut the door.

Composing himself, he turned to the girl again with a deprecatory smile.  But no smile answered him from her set face.  She had seen her beloved hero’s nature in curl-papers, as it were, and she found the spectacle disgusting and terrifying.  It recalled the brutal slaughter of the Dutch captain, and suddenly she realized that what her brother had just said of this man was no more than true.  Fear growing to panic was written on her face, as she stood there leaning for support against the table.

“Why, sweetheart, what is this?” Levasseur moved towards her.  She recoiled before him.  There was a smile on his face, a glitter in his eyes that fetched her heart into her throat.

He caught her, as she reached the uttermost limits of the cabin, seized her in his long arms and pulled her to him.

“No, no!” she panted.

“Yes, yes,” he mocked her, and his mockery was the most terrible thing of all.  He crushed her to him brutally, deliberately hurtful because she resisted, and kissed her whilst she writhed in his embrace.  Then, his passion mounting, he grew angry and stripped off the last rag of hero’s mask that still may have hung upon his face.  “Little fool, did you not hear your brother say that you are in my power?  Remember it, and remember that of your own free will you came.  I am not the man with whom a woman can play fast and loose.  So get sense, my girl, and accept what you have invited.”  He kissed her again, almost contemptuously, and flung her off.  “No more scowls,” he said.  “You’ll be sorry else.”

Some one knocked.  Cursing the interruption, Levasseur strode off to open.  Cahusac stood before him.  The Breton’s face was grave.  He came to report that they had sprung a leak between wind and water, the consequence of damage sustained from one of the Dutchman’s shots.  In alarm Levasseur went off with him.  The leakage was not serious so long as the weather kept fine; but should a storm overtake them it might speedily become so.  A man was slung overboard to make a partial stoppage with a sail-cloth, and the pumps were got to work.

Ahead of them a low cloud showed on the horizon, which Cahusac pronounced one of the northernmost of the Virgin Islands.

“We must run for shelter there, and careen her,” said Levasseur.  “I do not trust this oppressive heat.  A storm may catch us before we make land.”

“A storm or something else,” said Cahusac grimly.  “Have you noticed that?” He pointed away to starboard.

Levasseur looked, and caught his breath.  Two ships that at the distance seemed of considerable burden were heading towards them some five miles away.