scene at Avignon was before him, and instantly,
too, the sense of need to be careful of himself, and to think solely of
his errand. He swallowed his wine in haste, and sat still, losing no
word of the talk, as the other man said:

"They will unload the American ship to-morrow, I suppose."

"Yes," said Carteaux; "and pay in good republican _assignats_ and
promises. Then I shall sail on her to Philadelphia, and go thence to
France. Our work here is over."

De Courval had heard enough. If the ship went to the States, there he
would find his enemy. To let him go, thus unpunished, when so near, was
obviously all that he could do. He rose and went out. In a few minutes
he had left the town behind him and was running along the beach,
relieved by rapid action. He hailed the boat, lying in wait off the
shore, and had, as he stood, the thought that with his father's murderer
within reach, duty had denied him the privilege of retributive justice.
It was like the dreams with which at times he was troubled--when he saw
Carteaux smiling and was himself unable to move. Looking back, as the
boat ran on to the beach, he saw a red glow far away, and over it the
pall of smoke where hundreds of plantations were burning, with
everywhere, as he had heard, ruin, massacre, and ruthless executions of
the revolted slaves set free. Such of the upper class as could leave had
departed, and long since Blanchelande, ex-governor, had been sent to
France, to be remembered only as the first victim of the guillotine.

The captain, uneasy, hurried De Courval into the boat, for he had been
gone two hours. There was a light, but increasing wind off shore to help
them and before them a mile's pull. As they rowed to the ship, the
captain heard De Courval's news. "We must make sure it is our ship,"
said the captain. "I could row in and see. I should know that old tub a
hundred yards away--yes, sir, even in the night."

"The town, Captain, is in confusion--full of planters, men, women, and
children lying about the streets. There is pretty surely a guard on
board that ship. Why not beat in closer without lights, and then, with
all the men you can spare, find the ship, and if it is ours, take her
out?"

"If we can. A good idea. It might be done."

"It is the only way. It must be done. Give me the mate and ten men."

"What! Give you my men, and sit down and wait for you? No, sir. I shall
go with you." He was of a breed which has served the country well on