return journey. They
pulled for dear life; and through the overhanging mist they seemed to
see the shapes of the demons dancing weirdly down to seize their prey.
Once back in the vessel the anchor was hurriedly raised, and all hands
eagerly assisted in the work of getting under way once more.

But while this was taking place Roberval's heart had devised a yet more
cruel vengeance.

"Bring the prisoner on deck," he exclaimed, "and let him see the results
of his disobedience."

When Claude stood beside him on the high poop, he ordered him to look at
the island, where the three women stood together on the beach. The long
confinement in the semi-darkness of the hold had affected Claude's
eyesight, and for a moment, as he gazed across the lines of the gleaming
waves, he could see nothing. But just as the returning boat reached the
ship's side, and the men hastily came on board, he caught sight of the
group upon the shore.

"O just God!" he cried, "can this be permitted?"

"Thus," replied De Roberval, "a just God has made me the instrument to
chastise vice. Behold, young man, the work of your hands!"

"Were my hands free," said De Pontbriand, fiercely, "I would become an
instrument of God to rid the world of the basest liar and tyrant who
ever served his master, the Devil."

"I will be generous," said De Roberval. "Free the dog's hands, and let
him wave a last adieu to his paramour."

The rusty lock turned, the manacles fell upon the deck, and Claude stood
free. But free on an ocean prison, with enemies on all sides! He gave
one glance round, met the cruel eyes of Gaillon close behind him, and
like a flash plunged headlong into the ocean.

"Shoot the villain down!" shouted De Roberval.

One of the men seized an arquebuse, and levelled it at the struggling
form in the water. He pulled the trigger, but no sooner did the powder
splutter in the pan than the gun burst in his hands, and a piece of the
metal, entering his brain, laid him dead on the deck.

"The demons, the demons!" exclaimed the panic-stricken crew. "The
demons claim the swimmer for their own!"

"Let him go!" said De Roberval. "He is too weak to reach the shore. He
has saved me the trouble of ending his life, as I should sooner or later
have had to do. Now for Charlesbourg Royal. No man will venture to
resist my will in future."

The anchor was already raised, and in a few moments _L'Heureux_ began to
forge ahead, and to widen the space between her