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CHAPTER XV
THE RANSOM

In the glory of the following morning, sparkling and clear after
the storm, with an invigorating, briny tang in the air from the
salt-ponds on the south of the island, a curious scene was played
on the beach of the Virgen Magra, at the foot of a ridge of
bleached dunes, beside the spread of sail from which Levasseur
had improvised a tent.
Enthroned upon an empty cask sat the French filibuster to transact
important business: the business of making himself safe with the
Governor of Tortuga.
A guard of honour of a half-dozen officers hung about him; five of
them were rude boucan-hunters, in stained jerkins and leather
breeches; the sixth was Cahusac. Before him, guarded by two
half-naked negroes, stood young d'Ogeron, in frilled shirt and
satin small-clothes and fine shoes of Cordovan leather. He was
stripped of doublet, and his hands were tied behind him. The
young gentleman's comely face was haggard. Near at hand, and
also under guard, but unpinioned, mademoiselle his sister sat
hunched upon a hillock of sand.


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