CHAPTER XVII. HOW THE YELLOW COG CROSSED THE BAR OF GIRONDE.

tyoushoulddoffcamailandgreaves,SirNigel,for,bytheblackrood!itislikeenoughthatweshallhavetoswimforit.” “Nay,”saidthelittleknight,“itwouldbescarcefittingthatacavaliershouldthrowoffhisharnessforthefearofeverypuffofwindandpuddleofwater.IwouldratherthatmyCompanyshouldgatherroundmehereonthepoop,wherewemightabidetogetherwhateverGodmaybepleasedtosend.But,certes,MasterHawtayne,forallthatmysightisnoneofthebest,itisnotthefirsttimethatIhaveseenthatheadlandupontheleft.” Theseamanshadedhiseyeswithhishand,andgazedearnestlythroughthehazeandspray.Suddenlyhethrewuphisarmsandshoutedaloudinhisjoy. “'TisthepointofLaTremblade!”hecried.“IhadnotthoughtthatwewereasfarasOleron.TheGirondeliesbeforeus,andonceoverthebar,andundershelteroftheTourdeCordouan,allwillbewellwithus.Veeragain,myhearts,andbringhertotrywiththemaincourse!” Thesailswungroundoncemore,andthecog,batteredandtornandwell-nighwater-logged,staggeredinforthishavenofrefuge.Abluffcapetothenorthandalongspittothesouthmarkedthemouthofthenobleriver,withalow-lyingislandofsiltedsandinthecentre,allshroudedandcurtainedbythespumeofthebreakers.Alineofbrokenwatertracedthedangerousbar,whichincleardayandbalmyweatherhascrackedthebackofmanyatallship. “Thereisachannel,”saidHawtayne,“whichwasshowntomebythePrince'sownpilot.Markyondertreeuponthebank,andseethetowerwhichrisesbehindit.Ifthesetwobeheldinaline,evenasweholdthemnow,itmaybedone,thoughourshipdrawstwogoodellsmorethanwhensheputforth.” “Godspeedyou,MasterHawtayne!”criedSirOliver.“Twicehavewecomescathlessoutofperil,andnowforthethirdtimeIcommendmetotheblessedJamesofCompostella,towhomIvow——” “Nay,nay,oldfriend,”whisperedSirNigel.“Youareliketobringajudgmentuponuswiththesevows,whichnolivingmancouldaccomplish.HaveInotalreadyheardyouvowtoeattwocarpinoneday,andnowyouwouldventureuponathird?” “IprayyouthatyouwillordertheCompanytoliedown,”criedHawtayne,whohadtakenthetillerandwasgazingaheadwithafixedeye.“Inthreeminutesweshalleitherbelostorinsafety.” Archersandseamenlayflatuponthedeck,waitinginstolidsilenceforwhateverfatemightcome.Hawtaynebenthisweightuponthetiller,andcrouchedtoseeunderthebellyingsail.SirOliverandSirNigelstooderectwithhandscrossedinfrontofthepoop.Downswoopedthegreatcogintothenarrowchannelwhichwastheportaltosafety.Oneitherbowroaredtheshallowbar.Rightaheadonesmalllaneofblackswirlingwatermarkedthepilot'scourse.Buttruewastheeyeandfirmthehandwhichguided.Adullscrapingcamefrombeneath,thevesselquiveredandshook,atthewaist,atthequarter,andbehindsoundedthatgrimroaringofthewaters,andwithaplungetheyellowcogwasoverthebarandspeedingswiftlyupthebroadandtranquilestuaryoftheGironde.