it with cannon-shot, and drew off, then took the wind on her beam and
came drifting down on her, boarded her and, after a swift and desperate
fight, killed every pirate-rogue save one--the captain--whom for reasons
they made a prisoner. Then they sank the rover, and got away to Port de
la Planta as fast as they were able. But by reason of the storm and the
fighting, and drifting out of their course, they had lost ten days; and
thus it was they reached the harbour a few hours after the Bridgwater
Merchant and the Swallow had left.

They waited till morning and sailed cautiously in to face disappointment.
They quickly learned the truth from the natives. There was but one thing
to do and Iberville lost no time. A few hours to get fresh water and
fruit and to make some repairs, for the pirate had not been idle in the
fight--and then Berigord gave the nose of the good little craft to the
sea, and drove her on with an honest wind, like a hound upon the scent.
Iberville was vexed, but not unduly; he had the temper of a warrior who
is both artist and gamester. As he said to Perrot: "Well, Nick, they've
saved us the trouble of lifting the treasure; we'll see now who shall
beach it."

He guessed that the English ships would sail to Boston for better arming
ere they ventured to the English Channel. He knew the chances were
against him, but it was his cue to keep heart in his followers. For days
they sailed without seeing a single ship; then three showed upon the
horizon and faded away. They kept on, passing Florida and Carolina,
hoping to reach Boston before the treasure-ships, and to rob them at
their own door. Their chances were fair, for the Maid of Provence had
proved swift, good-tempered, and a sweet sailer in bad waters.

Iberville had reckoned well. One evening, after a sail northwards as