“She’ll never burn,” returned our hero, bitterly; “though I was deuced near burning in her; but to make you up to the thing, give me another glass of wine; I’m as well now as ever I was; and if we are to have the task of cutting out this Vengeance, it must be done to-night, or not at all, for if we delay, they will work her some miles up the creek.” Lieutenant Thornton then gave his friend a brief but clear account of what had befallen him from the period of Sir Sidney Smith’s attempting to cut out the Vengeance from the port of Havre, to his arrival on board the corvette. “Well, by the immortal powers! you amaze me. Mabel in France, and Madame Coulancourt and her son Julian restored to each other! How far is the château from the coast?” “Fully six miles.” “Then we must have the privateer this very night; there’s a breeze off the land; let me see, it will be high water about eleven o’clock; there’s no moon, and it’s cloudy; but do you feel strong enough for the exertion?” “Strong enough!” repeated Lieutenant Thornton; “there’s nothing the matter with me; it was only the suddenness and violence of the blow that caused insensibility; but I rejoice to say that’s quite gone now.” “How many men do you think there are on board the Vengeance?” questioned O’Loughlin. “I counted fourteen or fifteen the day before yesterday; there may be three or four more. There is an armed brig in the creek.” “What! an hermaphrodite brig, with a great rake in her main-mast, and a red streak, and pierced for eight guns?” “By Jove! I think so; she is an hermaphrodite, and I know her main-mast rakes a good deal, for Julian remarked it to me; I was so intently regarding the Vengeance, that I heeded the brig very little.” “By St. Patrick! I must have that brig,” said the commander of the corvette. “Four days ago I chased her some ten leagues to the eastward of Lyon Point, and lost her just here in a fog of not an hour’s duration, and a stark calm; and, be the powers of war! when the fog cleared off, the deuce a bit of the brig was to be seen. She evidently was towed into that inlet. What kind of a place is it?” “A fine sheet of water inside; but there are several rocks to the right of the entrance, covered at high water, and the entrance itself is a blind one.” “Yes, faith, I know it is; but we’ll find it with the boats. How’s your appetite? We’ll have some supper, and then prepare for action.” “My appetite is good enough; but I am intensely anxious about Mabel, her mother, and Julian; I fear they will be suspected, seized, and sent to Paris. I am sure that detestable Monsieur Gramont is at the bottom of this affair. They must have thought to seize Julian and myself; and yet, why let us go to Lyon Head for that purpose, when we could as readily have been arrested at the château? It is puzzling.”