soft wash of the sea behind. But as far as was in me I faced them without
flinching, for in truth I had given myself up and was thinking only of
Carette and my mother and my grandfather, and was sending them farewell and
a last prayer for their good.

"Are you ready?" asked the captain. "You will fire when I drop the
handkerchief. You--prisoner--for the last time--yes or no?"

I shook my head, for I feared lest my voice should betray me. Let none but
him who has faced this coldest of deaths cast a stone at me.

"Present! Fire!"--the last words I expected to hear on earth. The muskets
rang out--but I stood untouched.

The captain walked across to me, whipped off the bandage, and clapped me
soundly on the bare shoulder. "You are a brave boy, and I take as truth
every word you have told me. If we come to fighting with your countrymen
you shall tend our wounded. As to _Red Hand_--when we return home we will
attend to him. Now, mon gars, to your duty!" and to my amazement I was
alive, unflogged, and believed.

Perhaps it was a harsh test and an over cruel jest. But the man had no
means of coming at the truth, and if he had shot me none could have said a
word against it.

For me, I said simply, "I thank you, monsieur," and went to my duty.

My shipmates were for making much of me, in their rough and excited way,
but I begged them to leave me to myself for a time, till I was quite sure
I was still alive. And they did so at last, and I heard them debating among