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He believed that the vessel, which appeared to be distant about cannon-shot, had at a single bound cleared the whole distance. But, on withdrawing the instrument from his eye, he saw that, except the way which the balancelle had been able to make during that brief instant, it was still at the same distance. "So," murmured the sailor, "they can see us as we see them."
In reality, she was a true balancelle, with two short masts raking forward and two curved yards, each as long as her hull; a true child of the Latin lake, with a spread of two enormous sails resembling the pointed wings on a sea-bird's slender body, and herself, like a bird indeed, skimming rather than sailing the seas. Her name was the Tremolino. How is this to be translated? The Quiverer?
Neither will I discuss here the regrets of those critics, which seem to me the most irrelevant thing that could have been said in connection with literary criticism. George plied his fantastic trade and sought to allay the pain of his incurable wound. I am not in the least disconcerted by this display of perspicacity. It is the same man and the same balancelle.
The land ahead vanished, too, and we seemed to be left alone in a world of water and wind. "Prenez la barre, monsieur," Dominic broke the silence suddenly in an austere voice. "Take hold of the tiller." He bent his hood to my ear. "The balancelle is yours. Your own hands must deal the blow. I I have yet another piece of work to do." He spoke up loudly to the man who steered.
It was startling to see a desolate expression of shame veil the remorseless audacity in the eyes of that man superior to all scruples and terrors. "I would never have dared to bring him on board your balancelle," he once apologized to me. "But what am I to do? His mother is dead, and my brother has gone into the bush." In this way I learned that our Dominic had a brother.
We slipped out to sea quietly at dusk, and all through the night everything went well. The breeze was gusty; a southerly blow was making up. It was fair wind for our course. Now and then Dominic slowly and rhythmically struck his hands together a few times, as if applauding the performance of the Tremolino. The balancelle hummed and quivered as she flew along, dancing lightly under our feet.
This was like striking their flag. The pursuer came on like a race-horse. It launched a fresh Greek fire, which fell within twenty paces of the little canoe, and threw a light upon them as white as sunshine. "At the first sign of resistance," cried the commander of the balancelle, "fire!" The soldiers brought their muskets to the present. "Did we not say we surrendered?" said Yves.
It might be thought they were about to board a frigate and to fight a crew superior in number to their own, not to attempt the capture of a canoe manned by four people. "Surrender!" cried the commander of the balancelle, with the aid of his speaking-trumpet. The sailors looked at Aramis. Aramis made a sign with his head. Yves waved a white cloth at the end of a gaff.
We had passed them in the dark as they jogged on easily towards their ambush with the idea that we were yet far behind. At daylight, however, sighting a balancelle ahead under a press of canvas, they had made sail in chase. But if that was so, then Dominic seized my arm. "Yes, yes! She came out on an information do you see, it? on information. . . . We have been sold betrayed. Why? How? What for?
Unfortunately, it was the time of the finest and longest days of the year, and the moon, in all her brilliancy, succeeded inauspicious daylight. The balancelle, which was pursuing the little bark before the wind, had then still half an hour of twilight, and a whole night almost as light as day. "Monseigneur! monseigneur! we are lost!" said the captain.
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