It was nearly midday before he
woke. Looking round he saw that he had the forecastle to himself. His
clothes were lying on a chest close by, and in a few minutes he was on
deck. A sense of disappointment stole over him. He had, while he was
dressing, entertained the hope that on going on deck he should see an
English cruiser in pursuit; but the wind had dropped and it was still
thick, and his vision was confined to a circle a quarter of a mile in
diameter. Jacques nodded to him good-temperedly, for all on board the
privateer were in high spirits. Their voyage had begun propitiously;
the darkness of the preceding night had enabled them to ran the
gantlet of the British cruisers in the narrow part of the channel,
they were now well down the coast of France, and the fog reduced their
chances of being seen by an enemy to a minimum.
"Where about are we?" Ralph asked.
"We are somewhere off the mouth of the Seine, and I guess some fifteen
miles from land."
"Oh, we are working down the channel then," Ralph said. "And where are
we going to?"
"Ah! that question is for the captain to answer if he chooses,"
Jacques said.
"Are we going to touch at the next French port?" Ralph asked
anxiously.
"Not that I know of, unless we have the luck to pick up one of your
merchantmen, and we might then escort her into port.
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