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Cursing the interruption, Levasseur strode off
to open. Cahusac stood before him. The Breton's face was grave.
He came to report that they had sprung a leak between wind and
water, the consequence of damage sustained from one of the Dutchman's
shots. In alarm Levasseur went off with him. The leakage was not
serious so long as the weather kept fine; but should a storm overtake
them it might speedily become so. A man was slung overboard to make
a partial stoppage with a sail-cloth, and the pumps were got to work.
Ahead of them a low cloud showed on the horizon, which Cahusac
pronounced one of the northernmost of the Virgin Islands.
"We must run for shelter there, and careen her," said Levasseur.
"I do not trust this oppressive heat. A storm may catch us
before we make land."
"A storm or something else," said Cahusac grimly. "Have you
noticed that?" He pointed away to starboard.
Levasseur looked, and caught his breath. Two ships that at the
distance seemed of considerable burden were heading towards them
some five miles away.


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