got some
daring people on board, and I shouldn't like to be the man at the
wheel."

"Ah, why don't they shoot? Why don't they shoot?" cried the waiter.
"She is an enemy, and--"

The rest of his speech was unheard, for another flash cut the darkness,
followed by the thud of a big gun, the shot coming as it were instantly
upon the waiter's question; but it had no effect upon the brig, which
came nearer and nearer to the pier-like wharves of the harbour, glided
round again with the two stay-sails rilling upon the other tack, and
then went off once more.

"She'll get away, uncle," cried Rodd excitedly, "and I don't know what
they are, but one can't help admiring such a brave deed."

There was another report, this time from quite another direction.

"That must be from the fort up behind the town, Rodd," cried Uncle Paul.
"It's too thick to see any splash, but they must be in earnest now, and
will not be firing blank charges. It looks as if they mean to sink her
if she doesn't stop."

"They've got to hit her first, uncle," cried Rodd excitedly. "Oh, I
can't help it, uncle," he continued, with his lips close to his uncle's
ear so that the waiter should not catch his words, "but I do hope they
won't."

"Well, my boy, I can't help feeling the same, though she's neither enemy
nor friend of ours, and we don't know what it all means; for I don't
suppose," he said, with a half-laugh, "that she has got Napoleon
Bonaparte on board."

Uncle Paul had not taken his nephew's precaution, and as a heavy gust
was just dying out, the excited waiter caught a part of his speech.

"Ha, ha!" he cried. "You sink so? You say le Petit Caporal is on
board?"

"No, no," cried Uncle Paul; "I didn't say so."

"No, sare; you think so, and zat is it. He has escape himself from ze
place where you English shot him up safe, and he come in zat sheep to
burn down ze town. But ah-h-h, again they will sink him. Faith of a
man, no!" he cried angrily, for there was a shot from another battery,
this time nearer the harbour mouth. "They cannot shoot straight."

For onward glided the brig, making tack after tack, and zigzagging her
way through the narrow entrance of the harbour, at times partly
sheltered by the great pier to windward, then as she glided farther out
careening over in spite of the small amount of reefed sail she carried,
but all the while so well under control that she kept on gaining and
leaving the two boats farther and farthe