ships coming down the wind; and with English forts holding every harbor on the bay, no possible escape for the Pelican. Bess Adams felt a cold chill grip at her very soul. The entire ship fell silent, as awful consternation gripped at officers and men. Then her gaze fell on Iberville, and her heart leaped.
"Up with the Lilies!" His voice blared like a trumpet. A laugh was on his lips, a sparkle, a flame lit his eye. "Here goes France, my friends! Here goes France!"
"Here goes France!" The words were repeated, went rippling from man to man. A cheer lifted; then a wild, shrill burst of shouts pealed up. Orders flew. Guns were being cleared, shot brought up, powder readied, lines rigged along the freezing, slippery decks for handhold. Iberville turned to Bess Adams.
"The charts, lad, your charts! For God's love, jump!"
She ran to the chart-locker and back again, holding the charts for him; his hand steadying her blue cracked fingers, his blazing face close to hers, his vibrant spirit flooding into her, while her heart pounded and her hungry eyes gripped his strong features. Then he laughed, and clapped her on the shoulder.
"Good lad! Stand by with the charts, now; and be ready to carry orders."
Voices were crackling around, pilots arguing, information being exchanged; even before leaving France, full information had been received about these English ships. Each one of them was a match, and more than a match, for the sadly crippled Pelican, with so many of her men sick or ashore, and a scant forty guns available. For down this bitter wind blew the noble Hampshire, 56; the Hudson Bay, 32; and the Dering, 36, crowded with men and troops for the bay forts.
Grandville, his marines ready, came to Iberville. He was white-lipped.
"Pierre! How can you hope to fight these English! Better to run for it."
"Run? Very well. Tell me where to run," and Iberville laughed, curtly, ironically.
"But how to fight?"
"As a ship should fight—with brains to back her guns! I've dreamed of such a day as this!" came the strong, deep voice that thrilled Bess Adams to the quick. "Tactics? Aye, as they will be in the future! Why has a ship sails and a rudder, if not for use? Now, my friend, unless they cripple us at the first fire, you'll see a ship handled as she should be handled!"
A gun spoke, a white wreath blowing from the Hampshire, and Grandville ran for his post. It was nine-thirty when that first gun spoke.
With two men at the long helm, Iberville sent his orders along the decks and waited. To any seaman's eye, the position of his ship was hopeless; she was obviously lost. To north and west and south lay the low shores and the long treacherous shallows; to the east, the open waters of the bay were cut off by the English ships foaming down the wind. Iberville consulted the charts again, as Bess Adams held them ready, and laughed softly.
"Those charts, lad, have changed the course of history!" he said. "Without them, France would be lost this morning."
The Pelican was heading out and away to the southward, cutting across the rougher water of the shoals. The three English ships naturally took for
