It had seemed to me but a little time that I had been away, and
yet the boatman told me that it was hours.
Only when he spoke of it did I observe that the wind was blowing
half a gale from the sea and that the waves were roaring in upon
the beach. Twice we tried to push out our little boat, and twice
it was thrown back by the sea. The third time a great wave
filled it and stove the bottom. Helplessly we waited beside it
until the dawn broke, to show a raging sea and a flying scud
above it. There was no sign of the Black Swan. Climbing the
hill we looked down, but on all the great torn expanse of the
ocean there was no gleam of a sail. She was gone. Whether she
had sunk, or whether she was recaptured by her English crew, or
what strange fate may have been in store for her, I do not know.
Never again in this life did I see Captain Fourneau to tell him
the result of my mission. For my own part I gave myself up to
the English, my boatman and I pretending that we were the only
survivors of a lost vessel--though, indeed, there was no pretence
in the matter.
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