As he did so, Bissonnette gave a little cry. They were coming on to
Cap de Gloire at the moment, and Tarboe and Joan, looking, saw a boat
standing off towards the mainland, as if waiting for them. Tarboe gave
a roar, and called to Joan to take the tiller. He snatched a glass and
levelled it.
"A Government tug!" he said, "and tete de Diable! there's your tall
Lafarge among 'em, Joan! I'd know him by his height miles off."
Joan lost colour a trifle and then got courage. "Pshaw," she said, "what
does he want?"
"Want? Want? He wants the Ninety-Nine and her cargo; but by the sun of
my soul, he'll get her across the devil's gridiron! See here, my girl,
this ain't any sport with you aboard. Bissonnette and I could make a
stand for it alone, but what's to become of you? I don't want you mixed
up in the mess."
The girl was eyeing the Government boat. "But I'm in it, and I can't be
out of it, and I don't want to be out now that I am in. Let me see the
glass." She took it in one hand. "Yes, it must be M'sieu' Lafarge,"
she said, frowning. "He might have stayed out of this."
"When he's got orders, he has to go," answered her father; "but he must
look out, for a gun is a gun, and I don't pick and choose. Besides, I've
no contraband this cruise, and I'll let no one stick me up."
"There are six or seven of them," said Joan debatingly.
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