"Captain Carter, I have told you I will never be your wife. Touch me, dare to come within a yard of me, and I will kill you as I would a snake. Force me to the altar, and, Heaven be my witness, I will kill myself before the sacred shrine!" There was so much earnestness in her manner that Carter recoiled, muttering curses on her and womankind in general. CHAPTER XVII. A RICH PRIZE. "Under the night's dark-blue, Steering steady and true, The _Lively Bee_ went through. And the starry ensign leaped above, Round which the wind, like a fluttering dove, Cooed low." Captain Carter was mad. He had coveted the fair woman and had stained his soul with crime's dark flood to abduct her from her home and to his ship, and had hoped that, when she saw how hopeless was her chance of escape, she would forget her antipathy and consent to be his wife. He had tried every form of persuasion, had even promised to leave the sea and settle on land, and as an extra inducement had offered to abjure his country and become an American citizen. But only the more determined was the fair one to withstand his wooing. All this passed in review across his mind as he paced his cabin uneasily. He was wretched. Perhaps the constant blowing of the fog horn added to his wretchedness, for there is nothing more melancholy than the sound made by the human breath when it passes through one of those instruments of torture known as a fog horn. "What now?" he asked angrily as the officer in charge entered the captain's cabin. "A boat is coming alongside, sir." "A boat? Then it must be from the _Poietiers_." "Ay, ay, sir, doubtless it is, unless it be from some Yankee----" An angry scowl on the captain's face led his officer to believe a hasty exit would be advisable. Captain Carter was soon on deck. The fog lay over the water with a darkness which could almost be felt. Only the slightest wind stirred the waves, and the captain almost laughed at the thought of any enemy approaching. He listened, but no sound smote upon his ear. "I hear no boat, Gordon," he said. "Yet there is something like the sound of oars, though there is no noise of the rowlocks." Gordon placed his partly closed hand before his mouth, trumpet-fashion, and whispered the one word: "Sweeps!" Carter laughed harshly. It was not a good sign when he indulged in a laugh, and Gordon knew it. "What do you mean by sweeps?" he asked. "Why, cap'n, as to that, I saw a Yankee schooner lying about all day a-watching us." "You did? So did I. But you don't think any Yankee would venture to touch us in the dark, and the _Poietiers_ so near?" "As to that, cap'n, them Yanks can see in a fog, or the dark, as well as in daylight, but I'm blessed if there isn't a boat nearby." Carter put his hands to his lips, and in a voice louder than any fog horn, cried: "Boat ahoy! where are you?" There was a slight cessation of the sound of oars, but no further notice was taken.