not expose
yourself to terrible suffering; you may hope everything from our
indulgence if you tell the truth. If not, take care!"
"I have nothing to say," replied Croustillac; "this secret is not mine."
"This means a cruel torture," said the captain. "Do not force us to
these extremities."
The Gascon made a gesture of resignation and repeated: "I have nothing
to say."
The captain could not conceal his chagrin at being obliged to employ
such measures.
He rang a bell.
An orderly appeared.
"Order the provost to come here, four men to remain on the gun-deck near
the forward signal light, and tell the cannoneer to prepare bunches of
tow dipped in sulphur."
The orderly went out.
The orders were frightfully positive. In spite of his courage,
Croustillac felt his determination waver; the punishment with which they
threatened him was fearful. Monmouth was then undoubtedly in safety; the
adventurer thought that he had already done much for the duke and for
the duchess. He was about to yield to the fear of torture, when his
courage returned to him at this reflection, grotesque, without doubt,
but which, under the circumstances in which it presented itself to his
mind, became almost heroic, "One does not sacrifice oneself for others
with the sole aim of being crowned with flowers."
The provost entered the council room.
Croustillac shuddered, but his looks betrayed no emotion.
Suddenly, three reports of a gun, in succession resounded long over the
solitude of the ocean.
The members of the improvised council started from their seats.
The captain ran to the portholes of the great cabin, declaring the
session suspended. Partisans and officers, forgetting the accused,
ascended in haste to the deck.
Croustillac, no less curious than his judges, followed them.
The frigate had received the order to lay to until the issue of the
council which was to decide the fate of the chevalier.
We have said that the Unicorn had obstinately followed the Thunderer
since the evening before; we have also said that the officer of the
watch had discovered on the horizon a ship, at first almost
imperceptible, but which very soon approached the frigate with a
rapidity almost marvelous.
When the Thunderer lay to, this ship, a light brigantine, was at the
most only half a league from her; in proportion as she approached, they
distinguished her extraordinarily high masts, her very large sails, her
black hull, narrow and
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