it's throw of the most eminent
malefactor of the age, gazed at him curiously, and then burst into a
medley of curses.

As these envenomed oaths struck Colonel Odminton, he staggered as if he
had been slapped in the face. Carbines were levelled at him
threateningly; but the French officers imperiously gave orders for all
weapons to be laid aside.

By this time, Captain Hans had the anchor raised. Although this was done
by electricity, still the men worked furiously. These embryonic pirates
tottered like their commander with an overwhelming fear.

This terrible, this unexpected, this deadly persecution--how far did it
extend? What was its origin? Was it a chance indignation that had
fomented in England, and had leaped the channel, or was it a decree of
outlawry that was passed by all the world?

It was enough to scatter the Colonel's pride, to tear out of him his
complacency. The proud Southerner now knew, like the prisoner at
Chillon, what it was to feel the hair turn white. An arch traitor may
lose his own country, and get a footing in a foreign land, however
contemptible his position may be: but Colonel Odminton and his crew had
no country whatever to turn to. Civilization had with one accord arisen
against him. The islands of the sea were three thousand leagues away.

Unsteadily he touched the lever and his ill-omened craft forged ahead.
As it did so, it grazed the side of a boat. With a final curse, one of
the men in the launch stood up, wadded a piece of paper in his hands and
flung it at the Colonel. It struck the malefactor full in the face. The
paper itself did not hurt him, but that malicious act was as fatal to
him as if he had been hit in the groin by a French bullet.

Amid derisive shrieks and whistles the "Lightning" sped out of the
harbor. The men upon its decks shook their fists at France, and cast
sinister looks at their employer.

As the Colonel went below, his face white as the silver poplar, his
hands trembling like leaves in a storm, he mechanically turned at the
companionway and picked up the wad of paper that had rolled to the sill.
It was a copy of the Proclamation warning every nation not to grant him
hospitality; in the name of the American Republic.

* * * * *

Two hours later, the Colonel and his Captain sat opposite each other,
talking in low tones. The Proclamation lay open on the table between
them.

"It is impossible then to provision her at all,"