“Hang them!” said the captain. “This is as dull as the doldrums. Gray, whistle for a wind.”

And just at that moment came the first news of the attack.

“If you please, sir,” said Joyce, “if I see anyone, am I to fire?”

“I told you so!” cried the captain.

“Thank you, sir,” returned Joyce, with the same quiet civility.

Nothing followed for a time, but the remark had set us all on the alert, straining ears and eyes⁠—the musketeers with their pieces balanced in their hands, the captain out in the middle of the blockhouse, with his mouth very tight and a frown on his face.