Anthony heard a splash at the stern of the brig; they had launched a boat. Two men pulled it around to the vessel's side, and Blake prepared to step into it. Anthony took up one of the muskets, and looked to its flint and priming; then he balanced it upon the high bulwark before him. "If you value your peace of mind, you'll keep your distance," he said. Blake gazed at him with a deal of good humor. "What," said he, "are you still of the mind to carry yourself so?" Then, looking past Anthony, he roared with laughing. "So help me God!" he said, "it's mademoiselle! Well struck, sir! Mademoiselle, I congratulate you on a champion who keeps his pose, no matter how events point or carry." Tarrant spoke, a bitter look in his face. Anthony could not hear the words, but the gesture motioned Blake into the boat, quite plainly. And the young men called across the place between the two vessels: "Tarrant, if that man attempts to board me, I'll have his life." With the same sneering, bitter look, Tarrant faced the ship for a moment, not stirring nor speaking; Blake, never heeding Anthony's words, leaped into the boat. Then a man appeared on the brig's after deck--a man who held his head well up and stepped with the sureness of a great cat. Anthony, the musket still on the bulwark before him, stared at sight of him. "Captain Weir!" said mademoiselle. Her hand held tightly to Anthony's sleeve. "How does he come aboard that vessel?" said the young man. "He has ventured out, looking for us," said mademoiselle. "He is our friend." There was a deep look in Anthony's eyes, as he frowned across the stretch of water between the two vessels. "Yes, he is our friend," he said. "But still I ask, how does he come on board this ship, of all others?" After a short word with Tarrant, Weir came to the brig's side and hailed the _Stevens_. Anthony replied. "I desire to come aboard you," Weir said. They saw a smile on his face, as he added: "Have I your permission?" "To you," said Anthony, "there is no objection. You will be welcomed." Weir waved his hand, still smiling; but when he ordered Blake out of the boat his face was stern enough. After the pirate climbed aboard, Weir was seen standing bold upright before the two; and what he said to them must have cut like a whip, for Blake shrugged and turned away, and Tarrant lowered ill-favoredly. In a short space Captain Weir stood upon the _Rufus Stevens's_ deck; he bowed to mademoiselle and shook Anthony by the hand. "A most fortunate meeting," he said. "I've searched these seas for weeks in the hope of finding you." "Why?" asked Anthony. "And what brought this particular region to your mind? And how did you come in this brig?"