"Then run as if we were so," said Ludar. "Budge not an inch from your course even if we scrape her bows as we pass." So we held on straight down the wind, while the Englishman, closing in at every mile, held on too; and no one was to say which of us gained an inch on the other. The sun tumbled into the sea and the brief twilight grew deeper, while behind us the wind gathered itself into a squall. Just before daylight failed, we could perceive the cruiser, not two miles away, leaning forward on her course, with the Queen's flag on her poop, and a row of portholes gaping our way. Then we lost her in the dusk. The poet, who stood near me at the gun, said: "Night is as a cave of which none seeth the end from the beginning; and a man hooded feeleth what he before saw. My Hollander, I bargained not for this when I took passage here. I wish it were to-morrow. Why do we not, under cover of night, change our course?" "Because, since that is what our pursuers will expect of us, it will delude them the more if we keep straight on." "O truth, many are thy arts!" said he. "But if, my Soothsayer, the wolf's cunning be a match for that of the lamb? What then?" "Then you may want your match, and your knife too," said I. He shivered a little. "My Hollander," said he, "if I fall, say to my lady 'twas for her; and I pray you give her the gem in my bonnet. Say to her its brightness was dimmer than the remembrance of her eyes; and its price meaner than the dewdrop on her lip. Bring her to see me where I lie; and compose my face to greet her. Tell me, my Dutchman, doth a cannon ball give short shrift, or were it easier to die by the steel?" "A peace to your nonsense," said I. "You have more sonnets to write before we need think of laying you out." He was comforted at this, and we resumed our watch in silence. The night grew very dark, and at every gust our masts stooped further before the wind. The _Misericorde_ hissed her way through the water, and still our pilot turned not his helm an inch right or left. Presently, Ludar came up to where we stood. I could see his eyes flash even in the dark. "Go forward now," said he to me. "Should we both be running as we were, and as I think we are our courses ought to meet not far hence. Send the maiden to me--I need her to take the helm while we three stand to the guns. Pray Heaven we win clear; if not, it will go hard with you, friend, in the prow. Let go your pistol at first sight of them, and, if you can, come abaft to join us before we strike." I could tell by the tone in which he spoke that he took in every inch of our peril, and trembled, not for himself, but for some one else. The maiden was loth to quit her post; for she, too, knew the risk of it and claimed it as her right. But when I told her the Captain had so ordered, and required her at the helm, she obeyed without another word.