Tarboe grasped Lafarge's
unmaimed hand,--the other Joan was caring for,--and swore that fighting
was the only thing left now.
Mr. Martin had said the same, but when he saw the Ninety-Nine determined,
menacing, and coming on, he became again uncertain, and presently gave
orders to make for the lighthouse on the opposite side of the river. He
could get over first, for the Ninety-Nine would not have the wind so much
in her favour, and there entrench himself; for even yet Bissonnette amply
multiplied was in his mind--Lafarge had not explained that away. He was
in the neighbourhood of some sunken rocks of which he and his man at the
wheel did not know accurately, and in making what he thought was a clear
channel he took a rock with great force, for they were going full steam
ahead. Then came confusion, and in getting out the one boat it was
swamped and a man nearly drowned. Meanwhile the tug was fast sinking.
While they were throwing off their clothes, the Ninety-Nine came down,
and stood off. On one hand was the enemy, on the other the water, with
the shore half a mile distant.
"Do you surrender?" called out Tarboe.
"Can't we come aboard without that?" feebly urged Mr. Martin.
"I'll see you damned first, Mr. Martin. Come quick, or I'll give you
what for."
"We surrender," answered the officer gently.
A few minutes later he and his men were on board, with their rifles
stacked in a corner at Bissonnette's hand.
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