Then one of them got up and went to the other end of the boat, whistling between his teeth a Provencal air; then, after examining the sky, the waves; and the boat, he went back to his comrades and sat down, muttering, “Impossible! Except by a miracle, we shall never make the land.” The night passed through all its phases. At dawn there was a vessel in sight. “A sail!” cried Donadieu,—“a sail!” At this cry the king—awoke; and soon a little trading brig hove in sight, going from Corsica to Toulon. Donadieu steered for the brig, Blancard hoisted enough sail to work the boat, and Langlade ran to the prow and held up the king’s cloak on the end of a sort of harpoon. Soon the voyagers perceived that they had been sighted, the brig went about to approach them, and in ten minutes they found themselves within fifty yards of it. The captain appeared in the bows. Then the king hailed him and offered him a substantial reward if he would receive them on board and take them to Corsica. The captain listened to the proposal; then immediately turning to the crew, he gave an order in an undertone which Donadieu could not hear, but which he understood probably by the gesture, for he instantly gave Langlade and Blancard the order to make away from the schooner. They obeyed with the unquestioning promptitude of sailors; but the king stamped his foot. “What are you doing, Donadieu? What are you about? Don’t you see that she is coming up to us?” “Yes—upon my soul—so she is.... Do as I say, Langlade; ready, Blancard. Yes, she is coming upon us, and perhaps I was too late in seeing this. That’s all right—that’s all right: my part now.” Then he forced over the rudder, giving it so violent a jerk that the boat, forced to change her course suddenly, seemed to rear and plunge like a horse struggling against the curb; finally she obeyed. A huge wave, raised by the giant bearing down on the pinnace, carried it on like a leaf, and the brig passed within a few feet of the stern. “Ah!.... traitor!” cried the king, who had only just begun to realise the intention of the captain. At the same time, he pulled a pistol from his belt, crying “Board her! board her!” and tried to fire on the brig, but the powder was wet and would not catch. The king was furious, and went on shouting “Board her! board her!” “Yes, the wretch, or rather the imbecile,” said Donadieu, “he took us for pirates, and wanted to sink us—as if we needed him to do that!” Indeed, a single glance at the boat showed that she was beginning to make water.