“Yes—­upon my soul—­so she is....  Do as I say, Langlade; ready, Blancard.  Yes, she is coming upon us, and perhaps I was too late in seeing this.  That’s all right—­that’s all right:  my part now.”

Then he forced over the rudder, giving it so violent a jerk that the boat, forced to change her course suddenly, seemed to rear and plunge like a horse struggling against the curb; finally she obeyed.  A huge wave, raised by the giant bearing down on the pinnace, carried it on like a leaf, and the brig passed within a few feet of the stern.

“Ah!.... traitor!” cried the king, who had only just begun to realise the intention of the captain.  At the same time, he pulled a pistol from his belt, crying “Board her! board her!” and tried to fire on the brig, but the powder was wet and would not catch.  The king was furious, and went on shouting “Board her! board her!”

“Yes, the wretch, or rather the imbecile,” said Donadieu, “he took us for pirates, and wanted to sink us—­as if we needed him to do that!”

Indeed, a single glance at the boat showed that she was beginning to make water.

The effort—­to escape which Donadieu had made had strained the boat terribly, and the water was pouring in by a number of leaks between the planks; they had to begin again bailing out with their hats, and went on at it for ten hours.  Then for the second time Donadieu heard the consoling cry, “A sail! a sail!” The king and his companions immediately left off bailing; they hoisted the sails again, and steered for the vessel which was coming towards them, and neglected to fight against the water, which was rising rapidly.

From that time forth it was a question of time, of minutes, of seconds; it was a question of reaching the ship before the boat foundered.

The vessel, however, seemed to understand the desperate position of the men imploring help; she was coming up at full speed.  Langlade was the first to recognise her; she was a Government felucca plying between Toulon and Bastia.  Langlade was a friend of the captain, and he called his name with the penetrating voice of desperation, and he was heard.  It was high time:  the water kept on rising, and the king and his companions were already up to their knees; the boat groaned in its death-struggle; it stood still, and began to go round and round.

Just then two or three ropes thrown from the felucca fell upon the boat; the king seized one, sprang forward, and reached the rope-ladder:  he was saved.

Blancard and Langlade immediately followed.  Donadieu waited until the last, as was his duty, and as he put his foot on the ladder he felt the other boat begin to go under; he turned round with all a sailor’s calm, and saw the gulf open its jaws beneath him, and then the shattered boat capsized, and immediately disappeared.  Five seconds more, and the four men who were saved would have been lost beyond recall! [These details are well known to the people of Toulon, and I have heard them myself a score of times during the two stays that I made in that town during 1834 and 1835.  Some of the people who related them had them first-hand from Langlade and Donadieu themselves.]