CAPTAIN THUROT DEMANDS A SUPPLY OF PROVISIONS — THE MERCHANTS SEND, FOR THEM — CAPTAIN THUROT’S HISTORY — THE DISCOVERY — MOST OF THE GUESTS ALLOWED TO TAKE THEIR DEPARTURE — MR. FERRIS, WITH ELLEN AND CAPTAIN O’BRIEN, REMAIN AS HOSTAGES — THE CHAMPION APPEARS IN THE OFFING — CAPTAIN THUROT ALLOWS THE HOSTAGES TO GO ON SHORE IN THE DINGHY.

The astonishment and dismay of the worthy burghers of Waterford, who had thus been so unsuspectingly entrapped on board the French privateer, can better be imagined than described.  “I am surprised, Captain Thurot, that since you are disposed to act so courteously towards us, you did not when on shore mention your wish, to have the stores sent on board, when I should have had no hesitation in procuring them for you,” said Mr Ferris.

“My good sir, I would have done so, but I thought it more than probable that the stores would be stepped on their passage, and therefore, to make sure of getting them, I adopted my present plan,” replied Captain Thurot; “besides which, I have enjoyed the opportunity of returning your hospitality, though in a very inadequate manner, I must confess.  I have likewise recovered one of my officers, who, as he came on board with your consent, will not break his parole by remaining.  I have also to request that you will send the men captured by the Ouzel Galley in exchange for your people, who will be detained on board till their arrival.”

“But, sir,” exclaimed Captain O’Brien, who was by this time fuming with rage, “how are we to return to Waterford without hands to man our boats?”

“Most of the young gentlemen on deck can pull, as I have no doubt can some of you, my friends,” answered Captain Thurot; “and you may land at Passage, from whence you can send over to Waterford for conveyances for the ladies, as we should be sorry to detain them against their will — though we hope that they will continue on board and keep up the dance for some hours to come; it would be a pity to interfere with their amusement by telling them of the little ruse which we have been under the necessity of playing.”

Mr Ferris and the other gentlemen consulted as to what was to be done.  One thing was very certain, that they could not help themselves; and they finally agreed to send off privately for the stores and provisions which had been demanded without letting those on deck know of what had occurred.  Writing materials were produced; each merchant was politely requested to send for what he could supply.

“Be under no apprehension of any loss,” said Captain Thurot; “I promise to pay liberally for all the stores I may receive.  Though a privateer, I am not a robber; indeed, being your countryman, and loving Ireland as the home of my ancestors, I should be sorry to treat any of you with want of courtesy.”

“A countryman of ours!” exclaimed Mr Ferris, looking up.

“Yes, sir,” answered the captain.  “I took the name of Thurot from my mother; my grandfather’s name was O’Farrel — and proud I am of a name which has never been disgraced.  But I must not interrupt you, gentlemen.  Go on with your writing; I will by-and-by, if you wish it, entertain you with my history.  I have nothing to be ashamed of.”

The merchants resumed their pens, and having consulted together, their orders were soon made out and despatched by one of the boats which had brought them on board.  In the mean time the party on deck were footing it away right merrily, entirely ignorant of what had been taking place below; the officers of militia, notwithstanding their gay uniforms, finding themselves eclipsed by the superior terpsichorean attainments of the Frenchmen.  Lieutenant Vinoy seemed in high spirit, and efficiently performed the office of master of the ceremonies, apparently feeling himself quite at home.  Some of the merchants, having finished their despatches, were about to go on deck.

“Stay, gentlemen,” exclaimed the captain; “we will discuss a few more bottles of claret first.  We will not interrupt the amusements of the young people by letting them know the character of my ship, for, depend on it, they will be treated with all due courtesy, and will not, I trust, regret having come on board.”

The claret, which had been pronounced first-rate, was a temptation not to be resisted, and the guests, who had risen, making a virtue of necessity, resumed their seats, prepared to do justice to as many bottles as might be placed before them.

“Now, gentlemen,” said Captain Thurot, “you shall, if it is your desire, hear my history; it will serve to occupy some of the time till the return of the boat.”

“By all means, captain; we shall be glad to have an account of the life of one whom none of us are likely to forget in a hurry,” said Mr Ferris.  Others also expressed the same wish.

The captain laughed.  “It is pleasant to feel that there is no risk of being forgotten by one’s friends,” he observed; “and you will be still less likely to do so when I have narrated a few of the incidents of my life.  I may remark that some of my acts may not be looked upon by you in the same light as that in which I regard them.  I must be judged by a different code to yours.  I have never owed allegiance to your sovereign, and therefore you must not blame me for breaking his revenue laws in the way which I shall have to tell you I have done.  However, to my history.  My grandfather, Captain O’Farrel, was an officer in the army of King James the Second, and fought at the battle of the Boyne, so fatal to the royal cause.  When the king was compelled to leave the country and retire to France, Captain O’Farrel was among the loyal gentlemen who followed his fortunes and accompanied him to Saint Germain.  Here my grandfather, having been appointed one of the gentlemen of the king’s household, met with Mademoiselle Thurot, a beautiful and accomplished young lady of ancient lineage, whose uncle, with whom she lived, was at that time a member of the parliament of Paris.  A penniless adventurer, as Captain O’Farrel was regarded, was looked upon with distrust by the young lady’s relatives, who endeavoured to keep him at a distance.  Love scorns difficulties, especially when burning in the breast of an Irishman, and that Irishman a handsome, dashing officer who has seen service.  The captain carried off the young lady, and she became his wife.  So angry were her uncle and her other wealthy relations in Paris that they discarded her, refusing to contribute a sou to her support.  My grandfather had alone the stipend he received from his royal master, and when King James died he was left to his own resources — they were small indeed.  He tried by various means to make an income, but the natives had in every way the advantage of him; and at last, with his young wife, and the remnant of his property contained in a valise, he retired to Boulogne, in the hope that some of his wife’s relatives who resided in that town would have larger bowels of compassion than those he had left in the city.  The once gay and high-spirited officer found himself mistaken:  they could not give any encouragement to one who had set so bad an example to the younger members of their families; should they support Madame O’Farrel, their own daughters might be throwing themselves away on some of the Irish adventurers, with whom the country swarmed, and expect to be provided with houses and establishments.

“My poor grandfather, almost broken-hearted, was on the point of starvation, when he received a small pension allowed by the Queen of France to all those who had faithfully served their exiled sovereign.  Hard service, wounds, and disappointment soon terminated his life; and three months after he had been laid in his grave my father was born — fatherless before he saw the light — and soon became motherless, for Madame O’Farrel survived her husband scarcely a year.  The destitute condition of the orphan at length moved the compassion of some of his relatives of the Thurot family, who adopted him and brought him up under their own name.  He was intended for the law, and studied for some years; but he had Irish blood coursing through his veins, and, under the expectation of obtaining a fortune with a wife, he fell in love and married.  He was, however, disappointed in his hopes; but the lady soon dying, gave him an opportunity of again trying the lottery of matrimony.  His second wife was Mademoiselle Picard, the daughter of a wine-merchant, or, as some people might have called him, a vintner; but if, as I hope was the case, he sold good wines, why should I be ashamed of him?  My father’s second wife was my mother; but at the moment of my birth my father was deprived of her by death, and I lost the advantage of being nursed by a tender parent.  My father was heartbroken, and when he looked at me, a poor frail infant, he believed that I should not survive.  He had two duties to perform — to have my mother buried, and to carry me to the baptismal font.  While the tears were streaming from his eyes, as he held me in his arms, a dignified and handsomely dressed lady approached, and, having inquired and heard the cause of his grief, offered herself as sponsor to the motherless child.  She was Madame Tallard, a lady of high rank and fortune — it being the custom of the country for ladies of distinction to offer themselves at that period of the year as sponsors for the children of the poorer classes.  Madame Tallard did more; she sent my father a present for me, and desired that should I survive till her return I might be presented to her.  She was as good as her word, and not only contributed to the expenses of my education, but I received much kindness from her and her family.  When I was about fifteen, a stranger called on my father, and hearing whose son he was, announced that his name was O’Farrel, and claimed relationship.  He stated that he was the commander of an Irish trader, and so worked upon my father and me by the account of the success of his voyages, that he stirred up in my heart a strong desire to join him in his enterprises.  As our cousin promised to introduce me to various members of the O’Farrel family, who were, he said, flourishing in Connaught, and would be certain to welcome me cordially, my father, seeing also that there was but little chance of my pushing my fortune in France, consented to my going; but as I at that time could not speak a word of English, I should have had considerable difficulty in making myself understood by my relatives or in understanding them.

“My Irish cousin having fitted me out, I set sail with him for Limerick; but I found him wonderfully addicted to the whisky bottle, and being also of a harsh and tyrannical disposition, I soon quarrelled with him.  Instead of proceeding direct to Limerick, we put in to the Isle of Man, where, not wishing to remain longer with my cousin, I took the liberty of deserting the vessel, and, running away inland, I hid myself in the barn of a farmhouse till I thought she would have sailed.  On coming out of my place of concealment, the first person I met was the owner of the property.  He addressed me in English, of which language I could not, as I have said, then understand a word.  On my telling him in French that the vessel to which I belonged had sailed away without me, he spoke to me in my native tongue, and asked if I was hungry — for I suppose I looked so.  I replied that I was, and should be thankful for a loaf of bread and a bottle of wine.  He laughed and said that wine was not the liquor of the country, but that, if I would accompany him, he would give me some bread and cheese and beer.  I did not refuse his offer — and, ma foi, very excellent I found his viands.  I asked him if he had anything for me to do, as I should be glad to serve him in return for his hospitality.  He laughed again, telling me that I was a sharp boy, and that, if I wished it, he would take me into his employment.  He did so, when I found that he was the owner of several luggers which ran between France and the English and Irish coasts to land contraband goods.  After I had remained on shore for some time, he asked me if I would like to take a trip to sea.  I was perfectly ready to do as he proposed, and the next day I went on board one of his vessels.  We were never idle; sometimes bringing cargoes from France to the Isle of Man, and at others running the goods across from France to Ireland.  I thus gained a fair knowledge of the trade.  My employer was pleased with me, and after I had served him for some time he sent me over to Carlingford, where I remained for a year managing his business, which was to dispose of the goods landed from the luggers.  It was here that, by constantly associating with the people of the country, and seldom meeting Frenchmen, I learned to speak English with considerable fluency.  On my return to the Isle of Man I resolved to put into execution an idea I had long entertained, of discovering my paternal relations.  On telling my employer, he advised me, should I fail in my object, to come back to him without delay.  Finding a vessel bound for Dublin, I took my passage on board her.  Great was my disappointment on my arrival to discover that, although there was no end of O’Farrels, none of them would own me or acknowledge themselves related to the ci-devant captain of King James’s army.  Still, I was not to be beaten, and with a dozen shillings in my pocket I set off for Galway, where I heard that some of my family resided.  I was not disowned — for the reason that I could find no one to disown me — and with my last shilling gone, I returned, footsore and weary, to Dublin.

“Well, gentlemen, I was now in an unfortunate plight, when I had the good luck to meet with the French valet of a certain noble lord whose name I will not mention.  He was pleased to fall in with a person who could speak the language of la belle France, and on hearing that I was of gentle birth, he offered to obtain for me the situation of my lord’s page.  It suited my fancy, and, according to my notion, there was nothing in it derogatory; so I accepted his offer, and for two years enjoyed a pleasant and easy life — especially as her ladyship’s waiting-woman was a very amiable and agreeable person.  An unfortunate circumstance brought my connection with the family to a close, and I was compelled to take service with a noble earl whose residence was on the sea-coast of Antrim.  I accompanied the earl on his shooting excursions, more as a companion than as a servant; but he was frequently absent from home, and I should have found the place very triste had I not fallen in with some of my old smuggling acquaintances.  With them I occasionally made trips, to keep up my knowledge of the sea, and by their means I was able to supply my friends with pieces of Indian stuff, a few yards of muslin, or tea, or any other articles in request.  As many other persons wished to possess these things, and were willing to pay for them, I commenced a regular commerce, which quickly filled my pockets with gold pieces.  Leaving the earl’s service, in which I could not conscientiously remain, I again took regularly to the sea, and having so many friends along the coast, I was able without difficulty to dispose of my cargoes.  A lady of some consideration in the county was one of my chief purchasers.  Some one giving information to the officers of excise that her house was full of smuggled goods, it was searched, and they were discovered, when I was accused of having brought them over.  The officers accordingly laid their plans to entrap me.  I had come across from the Isle of Man with three other boats in company; they were seized, but I managed to make my escape, and sailed over to the coast of Scotland.  Here we landed our cargo, which we hid in a cave — but how to sell it now that we had got it safely on shore was the question.  I proposed that three of us should assume the character of pedlars, and dispose of it piecemeal throughout the country.  My plan was adopted; a pleasant time I had of it, travelling from place to place and visiting the lord’s castle and the farmer’s cottage.  So successful were we that my share amounted to a hundred and fifty pounds.  With this sum in my pocket I travelled across to Edinburgh, where, dressing myself as a gentleman, I took lodgings, intending after seeing the city and enjoying myself for a brief space to return to France.  I happened, however, to meet a Frenchman long settled in Edinburgh, and the owner of several vessels which ran between Leith and London.  Happening to require a master for one of these vessels, he asked if I would take charge of her.  To this I agreed, and carried her safely into the Thames; but, unhappily, a fire breaking out in a large warehouse near which she was moored, she with several other vessels was burnt, and I with some difficulty escaped on shore with the property I possessed.  Assuming my Irish name, I took lodgings in Carey Street, Lincoln’s Inn Fields, for the sake of being near a Mr Donnell, an Irish gentleman famous for his knowledge of mathematics, from whom I received instruction in navigation.  Through his recommendation I obtained the command of a vessel, in which I made frequent trips backwards and forwards between the English and French coasts, greatly increasing my nautical knowledge and adding largely to my circle of friends.  I conceived a warm admiration for the English, for though they have their faults, they are a brave and generous people, and my wish on all occasions has been to acknowledge their bravery and generosity.  It was while I was in London that I used to visit a club held every Monday evening in the Seven Dials, and frequented almost exclusively by foreigners, mostly Frenchmen.  One evening, after they had imbibed more than their usual quantity of wine, some of them began to abuse the English and Irish, speaking of them in the most contemptuous manner.  I listened without uttering a word for some time, till my patience gradually evaporated, when, jumping up, I seized the two persons seated close to me by their noses, and, holding them fast, dragged them to the door, and then kicking them out, bolted it behind them.  Returning to my seat, I said quietly, `Come, gentlemen, fill your glasses and let us change the subject.’  Not one of the rest uttered a word, or ventured again to speak ill of the nation among whom we were living.

“I shortly after this obtained the command of a vessel which ran between Dunkirk and London, occasionally putting part of our cargo on shore in any convenient spot where our agents were ready to receive it without troubling the revenue.  For some years I carried on a free trade between various French ports and the English coast, my chief place of residence being London, where I had to go to settle my accounts; and then, wishing once more to see my father, I went to Boulogne, where he still lived.  I was now, in consequence of my successful voyages, looked upon as the king of the smugglers.  I was proud of the title — but pride is often, as you know, doomed to have a fall.  I may venture to say that during that period I did not import and export less than twenty thousand pounds’ worth of goods every year.  It happened, however, that the French Government did not quite approve of my proceedings, and the president of the province, who happened to be the son of my old friend, Madame Tallard, received orders to put a stop to our commerce.  Monsieur Tallard had been my friend and playmate in our youth, but duty compelled him to be vigilant, and I and several of my associates were arrested.  Some of them were hanged, but through his interference my life was spared, though I was thrown into prison, where I languished for many a long day.  At length, however, the French Government requiring the services of persons well acquainted with the English coast, I was sent for to Paris, where I was desired to give such information as I possessed.  I now expected to obtain my liberty, but, instead of that, those official gentlemen considered it prudent to keep me shut up till they wanted me.  My friend Monsieur Tallard again interfered, and I was suddenly transferred from prison to the command of a fine sloop of war.  It was a pleasant change, I can assure you, gentlemen; but the intention of invading England having been abandoned by the Government, I found that my ship was not likely to be employed.  I accordingly obtained leave to resign my commission, and to take the command of the Coquille privateer, the ship on board which I have had the pleasure of receiving you as my guests.”

Whatever might have been the opinion held by the Irish merchants as to the career of their host, they did not think fit to express them.

“I congratulate you, Captain Thurot, on having at length attained a position suited to your courage and talents,” said Mr Ferris; “and as you have thought fit to play a trick on us, we have to thank you for the courteous way in which you have carried it out.  I hope your wants will be supplied, and that we shall stand exonerated with our Government for having furnished an enemy with stores.”

“I will give you a certificate to the effect that you are under compulsion,” said the captain; “and if you in any way suffer, I will do my best to make good the loss.”

“That would be a difficult matter,” observed Captain O’Brien, “though I hope that our known loyalty will prevent our being subject to any unjust suspicions.  Now, gentlemen,” he continued, turning to friends, “we should be wishing our entertainer farewell, or we shall lose the flood.”

The party rose.  “I am sorry that, if you do go, you will yourselves have to pull the boats up the river, unless some of you gentlemen and Mr Ferris like to remain as hostages instead of your men,” said Captain Thurot.  “Pray understand that I do not doubt the word of any one of you, but were I to allow all to return, the authorities on shore might not consider themselves bound by your promises, and might withhold the stores I require, as well as the men, I am somewhat anxious also about my first lieutenant, who remained on shore about some business of his own.  I will not, however, make you answerable for him, unless he is taken prisoner, and then I shall expect you to return him safe on board; and I must have a promise from you that you will do so.  Perhaps, in order to induce those same authorities, who are collectively at times somewhat stubborn, to act more promptly, it might be convenient if Mr Ferris and his daughter and you, Captain O’Brien, would consent to remain on board my ship until my people are sent back.  Monsieur Vinoy came on board with your full sanction, so that I consider myself at liberty to detain him.  In the case of Mr Ferris and Captain O’Brien complying with my wish, you can take your men to row the boats up the river.  The plan will, I should think, greatly facilitate matters.”

“Not a bad plan,” exclaimed two or three of the other gentlemen who were to obtain their liberty.  “Ferris, you will not object to remain? nor you, O’Brien?  Without our men we shall be hours getting up to Waterford.”

Mr Ferris was always ready to sacrifice himself for the public good, though he would have preferred returning home.

“I must hear what my daughter says on the subject,” he answered; “I will not detain her against her wish.  At the same time, having perfect confidence in the honour of Captain Thurot, I am ready to remain on board, in order, my friends, to save you and your families from inconvenience or anxiety.”

“In that case, so am I,” exclaimed Captain O’Brien.  “I had my suspicions from the first that all was not right, and I deserve some punishment for allowing myself and you to be entrapped.”

“Very kind!”

“Very generous!”

“Very public-spirited!” cried the other gentlemen, who were eager to get out of the scrape as soon as possible.  It became necessary at last to let the party on deck know the true state of the case, and to desire them to prepare for their departure.  Some would not even now believe that they had been deceived; others were very indignant.  The militia officers pulled their moustaches, swearing that they would return with their men and capture the pirate, although they could not help acknowledging that they had been politely treated by the Frenchmen.  Ellen was perfectly ready to remain with her father; she had a thorough confidence in sailors of every nation, and as it now wanted but two or three hours only to daylight, she could have the enjoyment of a row up the river in the morning instead of during the night.  She sent a message to Norah begging that she would not be anxious on her account.

Nothing could exceed the politeness of Captain Thurot and his officers as they handed their visitors into the boats, now manned by their proper crews, who swore that the Jersey men were broths of boys, and it was just a pity that they couldn’t speak a little better Irish.  Though still able to pull, the boatmen gave undoubted proofs that they had not been stinted in their liquor.

“Now, bhoys,” cried one of the men, standing up and pulling off his hat, “three cheers for the Jerseyman, and may good luck go with her on her cruise — hip! hip! hurrah!” and their voices sounded far and wide across the waters of the harbour.  The boats were soon lost to sight in the darkness.  Mr Ferris and Ellen, with Captain O’Brien, having stood watching them to the last, Lieutenant Vinoy drew near and expressed a hope that Mr Ferris would not accuse him of breaking his parole.  “For had I done so, I should not have been worthy of addressing you,” he remarked.

“Certainly not, my friend,” said Mr Ferris; “we brought you on board, and your captain tells me that he has detained you.”

“Ah, that is indeed a satisfaction,” exclaimed the lieutenant.  “I may now give a message from the captain, who begs that you will take possession of his cabin, which is entirely at your service; you must consider it yours till the return of the boats with our men.  They will soon, I hope, for your sakes, make their appearance.”

Mr Ferris felt satisfied at having sacrificed himself for the benefit of his friends.  Not that he experienced the slightest apprehension of having to suffer any inconvenience.  Ellen declared that she liked the fun, and only hoped that Norah would not be anxious about her.  Still the time went by; the grey dawn was breaking, and no boats had appeared.  Captain O’Brien, who was much more fidgety than his friend, frequently went on deck to take a look-out.  Ellen, who was reclining on a sofa, had fallen asleep, while her father sat by her side.  A stream of bright light coming through the cabin windows awoke her.  Just then Captain O’Brien came down.

“By my faith, I believe our friend is going to carry us off to sea!” he exclaimed; “I suspected there was something in the wind, and, going aloft, I discovered a large ship in the offing; so did the Frenchmen, and they immediately commenced hauling on their spring and letting fall the canvas ready to make sail in a moment.  They don’t like going without their men and the promised provisions; but they will have to do it if the boats don’t return quickly, for I’m much mistaken if the vessel I saw isn’t the Champion, which we have so long been looking for.”

Ellen, who had hitherto been asleep, started as she heard Captain O’Brien speak.  “The Champion, do you say?” she asked.

“I think it more than probable that she is,” said the captain.  Ellen did not reply, but the thought — and to her it was an agitating one — immediately occurred to her mind, “The Champion will surely attack the French ship.”  It was confirmed by the next remark her father made.

“If so, the Frenchman will have to fight for it, for Captain Olding is not likely to let him go without questioning him,” said Mr Ferris.

“But where do you think, my friend, we shall be in that case?” asked Captain O’Brien.  “Thurot will scarcely send us on shore first in one of his boats, and I see no signs of our own.”

“Could we not get him to make a signal for a boat from the shore?  He surely will not detain my daughter, with the prospect of having to fight his ship,” exclaimed Mr Ferris, becoming anxious.  “How mad I was to allow her to remain!”

“Do not be alarmed about me.  I trust that we shall have no difficulty in getting on board the Champion should she enter the harbour,” said Ellen.

“We may be confident that Thurot will not wait for her here,” said Captain O’Brien; “but I will go on deck and get him without delay to make a signal for a boat from the shore, if ours are not in sight.  If they are, he will probably wait for them.”

On going on deck Captain O’Brien found that the corvette had slipped her cable, that the topsails were set, and that the crew were aloft loosing the other sails.  Still, in spite of the wide folds of canvas which were rapidly spread on the ship, the wind was so light that she made but little way.  There was yet time for a boat to come off from the shore, and Captain Thurot without hesitation made a signal as he was requested, firing a gun to draw attention.  No boat however, appeared.

“Captain Thurot,” exclaimed Captain O’Brien, going up to him, “I must beg that you will send Miss Ferris and her father on shore before you leave the harbour.  It would be terrible to expose her to all the risks of a battle — and that you will be engaged in one with yonder ship, I have no doubt.  She is a British ship of war, and is sure to attack you when she finds out your character.”

“But I intend to avoid her if I possibly can, and if compelled to fight, I will place Miss Ferris and you two gentlemen in as safe a position as we can find on board,” said Captain Thurot.

“The safest, however, would not be satisfactory under the circumstances,” replied Captain O’Brien.  Captain Thurot looked greatly annoyed.

“I know that,” he said, “but it is necessary to send the boats ahead to tow.  Were I to run the risk of losing the ship, the crew, and even the officers, would mutiny — these privateersmen are difficult characters to deal with; as it is, they will be discontented at not obtaining the stores and recovering their shipmates.  My first lieutenant, also, is on shore.  If I send you away, I have no guarantee that the stores will be delivered, or that my people will be restored to me.”

“You shall have the word of honour of two Irish gentlemen,” answered Captain O’Brien, “that should yonder vessel not prove to be the Champion, or any other man-of-war, everything shall be arranged as you wish; the stores and men shall be sent off to you, and your first lieutenant restored, if we can find him.”

Still Captain Thurot hesitated.  “You believe that ship out there to be a British sloop of war?” he asked.

“I feel almost certain that she is the Champion; that she is a large vessel of your own class, and carries eighteen guns of heavy metal; and, moreover, I believe that if you venture to engage her she will take you.  If you follow my advice you will do your best to escape from her.”

While this conversation was going on, the larger boats were being lowered, and were now sent ahead to tow.  There was a light air from the westward; the stranger’s courses were rising above the horizon in the south-east, just clear of Hook Tower.  Could the Coquille once got out to sea, she might either by running before the wind round the south-eastern point of Ireland, or by keeping close-hauled stand along the southern coast towards Cape Clear.

“I confess that I am unwilling to part with you till the last moment,” said Captain Thurot, “but my courtesy will not allow me to detain the young lady and to expose her to the risk she would have to run.  I will therefore give you my small boat, if you will take charge of her and convey Miss Ferris and her father to the shore.”

“With all my heart, and I am much obliged to you,” exclaimed Captain O’Brien.  “If you will order the boat to be lowered, I will get them up on deck.  The sooner we are off the better; the tide is sweeping out of the harbour, and we shall have a hard pull of it, at all events.”

He hurried below, and conveyed the satisfactory intelligence to his friends.  By the time that they were on deck the dinghy was alongside, the courses were hauled up, and the men ahead ordered to cease pulling.  Captain O’Brien stepped into the boat; Mr and Miss Ferris descended the accommodation ladder.  After a brief farewell to Captain Thurot, who with his officers bowed them politely out of the ship, the dinghy shoved off.