ill mine."

"Tell them to clear off the deck, then, doctor. There must be no talk
here."

"Be silent, Captain Chubb!" cried Uncle Paul sternly. "We must have no
bloodshed."

"No, sir," cried his opponent quickly, and in very excellent English.
"We are no pirates. I am the captain of that brig, and in urgent need
of help."

"And this is a very strange way of asking for it, sir."

"Yes, yes, I know, my friend," cried the other hotly, "but it was forced
upon me by circumstances. I have need of your vessel, and I must have
it at all costs--peacefully if you will, and I am ready to recompense
you, the owner, for any loss of cargo at your destination which you may
incur; but I must have the use of this little ship."

"Indeed, sir!" said Uncle Paul, with a peculiar smile. "And if I say
you cannot have it; what then?"

"Then, sir," said the stranger haughtily, "you see we are prepared. I
shall be compelled to take it from you by force."

"Ah-h-h!" came like a low growl of satisfaction from the schooner's
crew, and Rodd was conscious of a rather ominous movement on the part of
the men, who began moistening their hands and taking a firmer grip of
their weapons.

Rodd was drinking in this colloquy, which filled him with wild
excitement; but all the time he kept glancing from the young officer who
stood sword in hand to the brig he had seen over-night and again thrown
up by the storm, still lying about the same distance away from the
schooner, and then with his head suddenly seeming to become clearer he
cried out aloud--

"Uncle, those are the officers we saw at Havre, and that's the brig that
escaped."

"You--you were at Havre!" cried the elder officer excitedly; and he
stepped closer to Rodd, his young companion, watchful and on the alert,
following his example and keeping close as if to defend him from any
attempted seizure.

"Yes, yes, of course," cried Rodd, without looking at the speaker, his
eyes being fixed upon the young man.

"Then this is a French vessel?" cried the officer.

"No, sir," replied Uncle Paul. "It is my schooner, and I am not in
pursuit of your brig."

"Why, it is!" cried Rodd suddenly, as he dropped the butt of his
unloaded gun with a thud upon the deck. "I thought I knew you again!--
Uncle, this is the young French prisoner I helped to escape from
Dartmoor."

Before he could say another word the sword the young Frenchman held
dropped from his hand to the extent of its gold-la