her orders, to leave the captain of the schooner unbound,
and let him have the run of the vessel.

After this the officer returned to the Aigle, taking Claude with him.

CHAPTER VIII.

UNDER ARREST.

By the time that Claude reached the Aigle, the evening of this
eventful day was at hand. He was taken to a room on the gun-deck,
which seemed as though used for a prison, from the general character
of the bolts and bars, and other fixtures. Claude asked to see the
captain, and the lieutenant promised to carry the message to him.
After about an hour he came back with the message that the captain
could not see him that evening. Upon this Claude begged him to ask
Count de Cazeneau for an interview. The officer went off once more,
and returned with the same answer. Upon this Claude was compelled to
submit to his fate as best he might. It was a hard thing for him, in
the midst of health, and strength, and joy, with all the bounding
activity and eager energy of youth, to be cast down into a prison;
but to be arrested and imprisoned under such circumstances; to be so
foully wronged by the very man whose life he had saved; to have his
own kindness and hospitality repaid by treachery, and bonds, and
insult,--all this was galling in the highest degree, and well nigh
intolerable.

That night Claude did not sleep. He lay awake wondering what could be
the cause of Cazeneau's enmity, and trying in vain to conjecture.

All the next morning Claude waited for some message from Captain
Ducrot; but none came. His breakfast was brought to him, consisting
of the coarse fare of common seamen, and then his dinner; but the
captain did not make his appearance. Even the officer who had
arrested him, and who had hitherto shown himself sufficiently
sympathetic, did not appear. The sailor who brought his meals gave no
answer to his questions. It seemed to Claude as though his captors
were unwilling to give him a hearing.

At length, in about the middle of the afternoon, Claude heard the
tramp of men approaching his prison; the door was opened, and he saw
an officer enter, while three marines, with fixed bayonets, stood
outside.

"Have I the honor of speaking to Captain Ducrot?" asked Claude.

"I am Captain Ducrot," said the other.

He was a small, wiry man, dressed with extreme neatness, who looked
rather like an attorney than a seaman. His voice was thin and
harsh,--his manner cold and repulsive, with an air of primness and
forma