Moors. Let me pass--misericorde, what will become of us?'

Arthur struggled on in search of such of the crew as could speak
French, but all were in too much consternation to attend to him, and he
could only watch that to which their eyes were directed, a white sail,
bright in the morning light, coming up with a rapidity strange and
fearful in its precision, like a hawk pouncing on its prey, for it did
not depend on its sails alone, but was propelled by oars.

The next moment Madame de Bourke was on deck, holding by the Abbe's
arm, and Estelle, her hair on her shoulders, clinging to her. She
looked very pale, but her calmness was in contrast to the Italian
sailors, who were throwing themselves with gestures of despair,
screaming out vows to the Madonna and saints, and shouting
imprecations. The skipper came to speak to her. 'Madame,' he said, 'I
implore you to remain in your cabin. After the first, you and all
yours will be safe. They cannot harm a French subject; alas! alas
would it were so with us.'

'How then will it be with you?' she asked.

He made a gesture of deprecation.

'For me it will be ruin; for my poor fellows slavery; that is, if we
survive the onset. Madame, I entreat of you, take shelter in the
cabin, yourself and all yours. None can answer for what the first rush
of these fiends may be! Diavoli! veri diavola! Ah! for which of my
sins is it that after fifty voyages I should be condemned to lose my
all?'