CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
THE GUARD-HOUSE AT BREST.
Captain Cochin--for so the commander of the _Arrow_ styled himself, though I always had my doubts whether he had any right to one title or the other--was too well aware of the value of his cargo to risk it in pursuing his ordinary calling of a pirate on the present voyage.

So he stood well out to sea, ostentatiously flying the English flag, and giving friendly salutes to any chance vessels that came in his course.
"_Parbleu_!" said he, "England owes me one debt for taking the guns away from those who would have used them against her, and selling them to my poor countrymen, who will use them against one another.

But there is no gratitude in England, and if I want payment I must help myself.

But not this voyage--by-and-by." As for me, the joy I should have felt at finding myself free and at sea was damped by the news of the loss of the _Cigale_, and with it, of my father and Tim.

The hope of seeing Tim again had kept me in heart during many a trouble and danger, and now I felt more alone than ever.
In the whole world, except Con the dog, there was left me but one friend; and she, if she ever thought of me, did so as of one below her, and already dead.