" was the cry, in a voice shaken by excitement, and
succeeded by a shouting chorus from the crew.

Sakr-el-Bahr turned swiftly to the entrance, whisked aside the
curtain, and stepped out upon the poop. Larocque was in the very act
of clambering over the bulwarks amidships, towards the waist-deck where
Asad awaited him in company with Marzak and the trusty Biskaine. The
prow, on which the corsairs had lounged at ease since yesterday, was
now a seething mob of inquisitive babbling men, crowding to the rail and
even down the gangway in their eagerness to learn what news it was that
brought the sentinel aboard in such excited haste.

From where he stood Sakr-el-Bahr heard Larocque's loud announcement.

"The ship I sighted at dawn, my lord!"

"Well?" barked Asad.

"She is here--in the bay beneath that headland. She has just dropped
anchor."

"No need for alarm in that," replied the Basha at once. "Since she has
anchored there it is plain that she has no suspicion of our presence.
What manner of ship is she?"

"A tall galleon of twenty guns, flying the flag of England.

"Of England!" cried Asad in surprise. "She'll need be a stout vessel to
hazard herself in Spanish waters."

Sakr-el-Bahr advanced to the rail.

"Does she display no further device?" he asked.

Larocque turned at the question. "Ay," he answered, "a narrow blue
pennant on her mizzen is charged with a white bird--a stork, I think."

"A stork?" echoed Sakr-el-Bahr thoughtfully. He could call to mind no
such English blazon, nor did it seem to him that it could possibly be
English. He caught the sound of a quickly indrawn breath behind him.
He turned to find Rosamund standing in the entrance, not more than half
concealed by the curtain. Her face showed white and eager, her eyes were
wide.

"What is't?" he asked her shortly.

"A stork, he thinks," she said, as though that were answer enough.

"I' faith an unlikely bird," he commented. "The fellow is mistook."

"Yet not by much, Sir Oliver."

"How? Not by much?" Intrigued by something in her tone and glance, he
stepped quickly up to her, whilst below the chatter of voices increased.

"That which he takes to be a stork is a heron--a white heron, and white
is argent in heraldry, is't not?"

"It is. What then?"

"D'ye not see? That ship will be the Silver Heron."

He looked at her. "'S life!" said he, "I reck little whether it be the
silver heron or the golden grasshopper. What odds?"

"It is