The bully rushed, but Ethan evaded him. With each passing moment the boy felt the glow of fresh life stealing through his numbed limbs, and to avoid the heavy plunges of Blake grew easy once more. He began again to rock the other’s head with his straight shoulder drives. But, for all this, he found himself, little by little, being driven back to the side of the ring, Blake pressing eagerly after him. Now and then Ethan would dart in a stinging hit; the man would shake his head in a bull-like motion, but still come on. At length the lad could retreat no farther; he was preparing to feint and dart aside when he stumbled over an outstretched foot. He shouted for those behind him to take notice, and then stumbled again. There came an answering cry from the vigilant Longsword, who hurled himself across the ring and struck down the Lascar, Siki, whose treacherous foot was stretched into Ethan’s way. The young American’s attention was taken by this incident for a moment; then Blake came driving at him like a bison; Ethan was penned up, his back to the throng of seamen, with no hope of escape by his usual tactics of retreat. So he braced himself and met the rush with all the power of his square young shoulders. Once, twice, thrice he struck, throwing his head from side to side to avoid the swinging hits of the other. Then, suddenly, he felt Blake’s big body give before his blows; the next instant he was standing gazing with dazed eyes, at the prostrate form of the Ranger’s bully as he lay, with wide flung arms, upon the deck. CHAPTER VI WHAT HAPPENED BY NIGHT IN THE HARBOR OF NANTES On the evening of December 2d, the Ranger’s cut-water sundered the ripples of Nantes harbor for the first time, and finding a safe and convenient anchorage, Captain Jones ordered the bow anchors let go and the ship stripped. It was a middy who had informed the commander of what was going forward in the forecastle upon the night of Ethan Carlyle’s encounter with Blake. After much persuasion Ethan was induced to tell the cause of the struggle. The captain listened with wrinkled brows. “It was Simpson who told the man that,” said he at length. “He dislikes me and takes no pains to conceal it. Before long he’ll have the crew demoralized. When an officer sets the example of insubordination the ship’s company rapidly follow in his wake.” That night in the French harbor, the officer paced his quarter-deck with Ethan by his side. All was quiet; the gleam of ships’ lamps shot thinly across the dark waters; the low murmurous sound of the seamen came from the forward part of the vessel. The three lieutenants and some of the crew had gone ashore. Next day the commander, Ethan and Longsword were to start for Paris with the secret instructions for Benjamin Franklin. Ethan saw that a cloud was upon the spirit of the great seaman, so he did not speak; at last the officer himself broke the silence. “I have not yet thanked you,” said he. “But I do so now.”