by
Sicilian robbers on their cattle; but the Moors had informed them that it
was no such thing, but a prize taken in the name of the Dey of Algiers,
in which an illustrious French Bey's harem was being conveyed to Algiers.
From that city the tartane was now about a day's sail, having been driven
to the eastward of it during the storm. 'The Turkish commander evidently
does not like the neighbourhood,' said Arthur, 'judging by his gestures.'

'Dogs and sons of dogs are the best names he has for them,' rejoined
Lanty.

'See! They have cut the cable! Are we not to wait for the other man who
swam ashore?'

So it was. A favourable wind was blowing, and the Reis, being by no
means certain of the disposition of the Cabeleyzes, chose to leave them
behind him as soon as possible, and make his way to Algiers, which began
to appear to his unfortunate passengers like a haven of safety.

They were not, however, out of the bay when the wind suddenly veered, and
before the great lateen sail could be reefed, it had almost caused the
vessel to be blown over. There was a pitching and tossing almost as
violent as in the storm, and then wind and current began carrying the
tartane towards the rocky shore. The Reis called the men to the oars,
but their numbers were too few to be availing, and in a very few minutes
more the vessel was driven hopelessly towards a mass of rocks.

Arthur, the Abbe, Hebert, and Lanty were all standing together at the
head of the vessel. The poor Abbe seemed dazed, and kept dreamily
fingering his rosary, and murmuring to himself. The other three
consulted in a low voice.

'Were it not better to have the women here on deck?' asked Arthur.

'_Eh_, _non_!' sobbed Master Hebert. 'Let not my poor mistress see what
is coming on her and her little ones!'

'Ah! and 'tis better if the innocent creatures must be drowned, that it
should be without being insensed of it till they wake in our Lady's
blessed arms,' added Lanty. 'Hark! and they are at their prayers.'

But just then Victorine rushed up from below, and throwing her arms round
Lanty, cried, 'Oh! Laurent, Laurent. It is not true that it is all over
with us, is it? Oh! save me! save me!'

'And if I cannot save you, mine own heart's core, we'll die together,'
returned the poor fellow, holding her fast. 'It won't last long,
Victorine, and the saints have a hold of my scapulary.'

He had scarcely spoken when, lifted upon a wave, the tartane dashe