Presently Jacquard and Barthier came with the papers for him to sign. When this was done they all went upon the deck. The Spanish prize lay at a distance of several cables’ lengths, and, from a movement among the spars, was getting under way in charge of the prize crew. Alongside, at the starboard gangway, rode the pinnace. It looked so small, so masterless and helpless, by the side of the larger vessels in that infinity of ocean, that Mistress Barbara shivered as she looked down into it. But one glance around the decks to where the prostrate figures had lain reconciled her to her lot. Between Bras-de-Fer and Jacquard there was but one hearty hand-shake. The very lack of more effusive demonstration between them meant more than many words could have done. And as monsieur passed over the gangway and down into the vessel there was little in his demeanor to show the sting of his defeat at the hands of these devils of the sea, whom he had sought, and unsuccessfully, to bring into the domain of a proper humanity. A scornful laugh broke from among the men as he disappeared over the side, and Yan Gratz, waving a pistol, piped obscene threats and criticism from the quarter-deck. But presently, when Mistress Barbara had been slung over the side in a whip from the main-yard, Jacquard disappeared from the rail, and the falsetto of the Dutchman was no longer heard. The mast in the pinnace had been stepped, and the sail, strong and serviceable, but none too large, flapped impatiently in the breeze. And so when Barbara was seated, white and dark-eyed, showing with a painful effort a last haughty disdain to the rascals at the portholes and bulwarks, Bras-de-Fer shipped his tiller and hauled his sheet aft to the wind. The little vessel bounced in a sprightly, joyous fashion, the brown sail bulged stanchly, and in a moment a patch of green water, ever growing wider, flashed and trembled between the pinnace and the _Saucy Sally_. Among the row of dark heads along the rail Bras-de-Fer looked for only one, and to him he presently turned and raised his hat in salute. Jacquard replied; and then his long arms went flying and his hoarse voice cried aloud the orders to set the vessel upon her course. Presently the yards flew around, the vessel squared away, and the _Saucy Sally_ was but a memory. A vessel nameless, without identity, was sailing away from them upon the sea, and they were alone.