Hers was the only frown that, until now, had crossed a face that morning. Hilarity laid hold on the jubilant throng, and turned all save the most serious ones to children. Musket-shots rang out in celebration; cheer on cheer filled the air, until, growing hoarse with their incessant huzzahs, planters, soldiers, traders, wives, daughters, sons, and even lonely widows and orphans, still kept waving their arms to the distant ships in silence. And still Roger, with King Lud in his wake, went the round, now gesticulating in the air with both of his drum-sticks, next pointing with one to the sails, and again setting the pair ajig on his tabor in clamorous acclaim. Suddenly, however, catching sight of Vytal’s face, he desisted and hastened to the captain’s side. Vytal spoke in a low voice that none but Prat and Hugh Rouse might catch the tenor of his words. “An I mistake not, those ships are not our friends.” Roger and Hugh turned, in dismay, to look once more across the water. Rouse, shading his eyes with a great hand, swore roundly beneath his breath. “Body o’ me!” exclaimed Prat, who for once could say no more. Vytal had spoken truly. For now that the ships came slowly within range of the watchers’ vision, the fact became obvious to one and another on the headland that these were not vessels of English build. Gradually a desperate silence assumed sway over the colonists, while they advanced anxiously to the cliff’s edge. “They are enemies,” whispered one. “Ay, ’fore Heaven, they are not of friendly countenance.” Then a voice rose trembling in a high key, and Ananias, terror-struck, covered his eyes. “Oh, my God! the two are Spaniards from St. Augustine. Look! Look! One is the _Madre de Dios_!” Vytal turned quickly to the settlers. “Yes, they are Spaniards,” he said, harshly, “and one is the _Madre de Dios_. She hath been defeated once; ’tis for us to sink her now.” A low groan ran through the throng. Alarm had stifled hope. But, as none gave answer, Vytal spoke again. “Let those who are afraid return and seek safety at Croatan. I and my men will meet them.” “Yea,” laughed Prat, “right gladly meet them.”