All that day and the following night L'Heureux and her consorts lay at anchor. Towards afternoon Roberval recovered sufficiently to issue commands, which Gaillon transmitted to the crew. So subdued were the men by the strange scenes they had witnessed, and so much in awe did they stand of Roberval and the terrible Gaillon, that there was none of the disorder which might naturally have been expected. Jehan Alfonse's place had been filled by an experienced and resolute seaman named Jacques Herbert, in whom Roberval had perfect confidence. Under his direction the men returned to their occupations; the prisoners of the morning were released; and soon no trace was visible of the extraordinary events which had taken place. Claude remained in the hold, and Marguerite was too ill to leave her cabin.

The next morning, when Roberval came on deck, a strong southerly wind was sweeping across the harbour. Herbert was at once ordered to get the vessel ready for sea. Crew and sailing-master were alike eager to leave the place which had been the scene of so many horrors, and willing hands soon had the sails unfurled, the anchor on the cat-head and the helm hard down, as the vessel swung round and sped away for the broad Atlantic.

"To the north," said De Roberval, as Herbert came to him to learn which direction he should take. "It is the shorter course, if the more dangerous. We will follow in the tracks of Jehan Alfonse. And I may want to touch at the barren lands of Labrador. Gold is ever found in regions of barrenness, and gold is needed for our colony."

Herbert was a rugged sailor, who thought more of a bit of salt beef and a bottle of brandy than of ingots of gold. Gold, to him, was only good for the spending; and what use it would be in the New World, where there was nothing to buy that could not be had for a few glass beads and a leaden trinket or two, was more than his intellect could conceive. He shrugged his shoulders at the nobleman's whim, as he deemed it, but answered a cheerful "Ay, ay, Monsieur." And as the vessels stood out past the headland, and on towards the white stretch of rolling waters, his trumpet voice rang out: "Starboard your helm! 'Tend to the sheets!"

In a moment the gallant craft was sweeping on her northward way, with her sails swelling before the following breeze, riding over the summits of the chasing waves. All night she sailed, and all through the following day, and still the rugged shores of Newfoundland stood on their left. On the third day a small, misty cloud appeared on the horizon ahead. At first, the seamen thought it was another ship, but one, more keen-sighted than the others, declared it was an island.

"An island?" said a hardy fisherman who had made many voyages to the New World for fish since Columbus discovered it, "then it must be the 'Isle of Demons.' I have been on the lookout for it. The air has for some hours been hot and stifling."

"Nonsense, Laurent! It is your imagination."

"Steer away from it," insisted the sailor. "Let us hug the main shore. I know the spot; no vessel ever sails near it. Several did in early times, but the demons pounced upon them, shattered their crafts on the rocks, and carried off the crews to their haunts."

Others had heard of it too, and a thrill of superstitious awe spread among the crew. As the distant land drew nearer, lips ever polluted with profanity, hearts black with crime, called on the saints to save and protect them; and even the sceptical Herbert, as he gazed on the dark rock crowned with curling mists, fancied with the rest that he could see weird, awful shapes hovering about the shore. The horror of the place seized him. He rushed to the helm, pressed it hard down, and endeavoured to give the dreaded island as wide a berth as possible.

At this moment Roberval appeared on the scene to enquire into the cause of the disturbance.

"What means this?" exclaimed he to Herbert.

"The Isle of Demons," muttered the now thoroughly alarmed sailor. "Can you not hear their fierce voices clamouring after us?"

"The Isle of Demons! What care I for all the demons in hell? Back to your course at once; we have lost too much time already."

"But, Monsieur," said the old fisherman who had first spoken, "they have been known to utterly destroy vessels and men e'er this. Guillaume de NouÉ dared to defy them, and attempted to sail close to the island, but e'er his ship could reach an anchorage, she sank without a warning, bearing the entire crew down with her, excepting Guillaume, who was borne aloft by the demons, and carried to their inland abodes."

"And who," replied De Roberval, sarcastically, "can vouch for the tale, seeing all the crew perished, and the brave captain was transported to the lower world? You will have to invent some better story, good Laurent."

"Pardon, Monsieur, but I can answer for its truth. I was with Guillaume, sailing the Belle Marie. We were following hard after him when his vessel went down like lead, and I saw with mine own eyes good Master Guillaume borne aloft by the devils. There was no mistaking him; his red hose and scarlet hat were the only ones on board his ship. I would have attempted to rescue him, but my crew, who also witnessed the sight, fell upon me, seized the helm, and rested nor day nor night till we were safely in the harbour of St Malo, and not a man of them could ever again be persuaded to enter a craft bound for the New World."

"Pish!" said Roberval, scornfully. "Port your helm, Herbert, and steer for that island. I am master on this expedition, and if there be any demons on the land they must pay homage to me. But methinks we shall find neither the red hose of your friend, nor the abode of any demons, but a few redskins who have been blown ashore here from Newfoundland, and dare not return."

"But, Sieur——" began the trembling Herbert.

"But not me," said De Roberval. "Port your helm, or I run you through!" and he threateningly drew his rapier. In an instant the course of the vessel was changed, and, to the consternation of the sailors, bore down upon the haunted island. The black waters grew blacker as they drew near, and each moment they expected to find their ship sinking beneath them. The lead was thrown, but no anchorage could be found; and it was not till they were within a couple of hundred yards of the shore that the welcome sound of the rattling chain and dropping anchor was heard.

The land was indeed uninviting. Barren, sterile, brown as an autumn field; grey cliffs rose on all sides, the tops of which could not be discerned, for a heavy fog hung upon them and revealed only the dark base. Gulls and terns flew screaming overhead, and swooped about the strange vessel which had dared invade the sacred precincts of their island. The great waves, rolling in on the iron-bound shore, kept up a continuous artillery, as the mighty boulders ground along the stony beach. Dull, hollow groans issued from the many caves which time had worn in the cliffs; and the hissing of the waters, the booming of the rocks, the perpetual bellow of the waves on the shore, and the wild shrieks of the birds, all made it seem to the terrified seamen that they had indeed reached the abode of the Prince of Evil.

But two men were in no way affected by the scene or the uproar—Michel Gaillon and De Roberval. The latter had formed a sudden determination. His niece and her companions must be punished. Kill them with his own hand he could not, and to put them out of the way, without making a public example of them, would be revenge without purpose; for the man, despite his mad barbarity, was convinced that he was working for great and noble ends. Now a glorious opportunity was given him to teach a salutary lesson. He would land the women on this desolate spot, giving them provisions for a year, and before that time he could return for them and bring them to his colony. This would surely establish his authority, and be a warning to all wrong-doers for the future.

He turned to Gaillon, who stood near him, smiling at the terrors of the crew.

"Get the boat ready, and order the women to prepare to land. I am going to give them a holiday on the island."

This was a project after Gaillon's own heart. He rubbed his hands with fiendish delight, and set about giving the necessary orders. A boat was soon lowered, and filled with provisions, clothing, and ammunition in plenty. Gaillon and two or three of the desperadoes whom he had completely under his control, pulled ashore and landed their cargo. Roberval himself superintended the selection from the ship's stores, and thrice did he order the boat to return, each time with as large a load as it could carry.

All this time the rest of the crew stood gaping with astonishment, unable to imagine what Roberval's intentions might be, but ready, at the slightest addition to their superstitious fears, to fly into open mutiny.

At last the boat returned from her third trip. Roberval, in the meantime, had ordered the women to get ready to go on shore, and they now came on deck, bewildered with surprise, and uncertain what fate might be in store for them. Roberval commanded them to enter the boat, which was now alongside. A murmur of dismay and sympathy went round the vessel, as the full horror of his project dawned upon the crew; but no man dared to interfere, save PÈre Lebeau. Undaunted by his rebuff of a few days before, the priest stepped up to De Roberval, and fixing his eyes full upon him, he exclaimed:

"Sieur, beware what you do! What are your intentions towards these helpless women who have no other protector but yourself? You cannot be so lost to all sense of honour and chivalry as to abandon them to perish on this desolate shore! How can you expect the blessing of God upon this enterprise if you wilfully do this great wrong? Take care lest the Church should refuse to pardon you, and should cast from her fold the man who could be guilty of so monstrous a crime."

For a moment Roberval's gaze shifted under the scathing indignation of the priest, then, drawing him hastily aside, he muttered in an undertone:

"Spare your wrath, good Father; I but mean to teach them a lesson. I will return for them in good time—I swear it. It is but a necessary discipline that I would give them, so that they may learn to obey me for the future."

"They will die of terror!" said the priest. "You have heard the legends of the demons who haunt the island; and how do you know to what perils you are subjecting them from the savages, if not indeed from evil spirits?"

"There are no signs of habitation in the island," said De Roberval, impatiently. "My men have explored it thoroughly. No Indians have ever been there, and a good fright will do them no harm. Demons," he went on, raising his voice so that all could hear, "what care I for demons? Our blessed Lord cast seven of them forth out of Mary Magdalene, and methinks that this strumpet and her companions have each seventy times seven still in their disobedient bodies. But ashore they shall go. Plead not for them; your prayers will be in vain."

The priest would have spoken further, but Marguerite, who now understood her uncle's design, came forward with the courage and dignity which seldom failed her, and, with head erect and unwavering voice, said calmly:

"Distress yourself no longer on our account, good Father. I welcome with joy any fate which will deliver me from the tender mercies of a tyrant. This, then," and she turned her clear gaze upon her uncle, "is the father's care you show an orphan child? This is the protection you extend to that other fatherless and motherless girl so lately left in your charge? Can it be that a De Roberval has sunk to so ignoble a breach of honour and faith? I pray God," she went on more softly, "that He may drive out the evil spirit which has possessed you, and restore your noble and generous nature. You are no longer the uncle I once loved."

She ceased speaking, and quietly allowed herself to be lowered into the boat. Marie, weeping bitterly, followed her, and finally old Bastienne, filling the air with sobs and lamentations, was deposited beside her mistress. The men took up their oars, and waited the signal for departure.

Roberval was gloomily pacing the deck. His niece's words had gone home, and he was on the point of relenting. But he had already allowed his weakness to turn him once from his purpose, and to fail again, in sight of his assembled crew, was too great a humiliation to be thought of. He hardened his heart, and said sternly to Gaillon:

"See them safely landed; take care that they want for nothing, and return quickly. We must be out of this before darkness falls. The wind is rising, and I should not care to be caught on this shore should a storm come up."

The boat made a hurried final trip, and the three women were put off on the desolate beach. The oarsmen needed not Gaillon's words: "Back now, with might and main," to hasten them on their return journey. They pulled for dear life; and through the overhanging mist they seemed to see the shapes of the demons dancing weirdly down to seize their prey. Once back in the vessel the anchor was hurriedly raised, and all hands eagerly assisted in the work of getting under way once more.

But while this was taking place Roberval's heart had devised a yet more cruel vengeance.

"Bring the prisoner on deck," he exclaimed, "and let him see the results of his disobedience."

When Claude stood beside him on the high poop, he ordered him to look at the island, where the three women stood together on the beach. The long confinement in the semi-darkness of the hold had affected Claude's eyesight, and for a moment, as he gazed across the lines of the gleaming waves, he could see nothing. But just as the returning boat reached the ship's side, and the men hastily came on board, he caught sight of the group upon the shore.

"O just God!" he cried, "can this be permitted?"

"Thus," replied De Roberval, "a just God has made me the instrument to chastise vice. Behold, young man, the work of your hands!"

"Were my hands free," said De Pontbriand, fiercely, "I would become an instrument of God to rid the world of the basest liar and tyrant who ever served his master, the Devil."

"I will be generous," said De Roberval. "Free the dog's hands, and let him wave a last adieu to his paramour."

The rusty lock turned, the manacles fell upon the deck, and Claude stood free. But free on an ocean prison, with enemies on all sides! He gave one glance round, met the cruel eyes of Gaillon close behind him, and like a flash plunged headlong into the ocean.

"Shoot the villain down!" shouted De Roberval.

One of the men seized an arquebuse, and levelled it at the struggling form in the water. He pulled the trigger, but no sooner did the powder splutter in the pan than the gun burst in his hands, and a piece of the metal, entering his brain, laid him dead on the deck.

"The demons, the demons!" exclaimed the panic-stricken crew. "The demons claim the swimmer for their own!"

"Let him go!" said De Roberval. "He is too weak to reach the shore. He has saved me the trouble of ending his life, as I should sooner or later have had to do. Now for Charlesbourg Royal. No man will venture to resist my will in future."

The anchor was already raised, and in a few moments L'Heureux began to forge ahead, and to widen the space between her and the accursed island.

As Claude had stood on the poop he was plainly visible to the watchers on the shore. They saw him leap into the sea, and heard the report of the arquebuse. Their hearts stood still with fear: but they strained their eyes eagerly across the dazzling surface of the water. Could he have escaped? Yes, there on the summit of a wave, in the wake of the rapidly retreating vessel, they saw him struggling. He was swimming. He was making for the shore. God help him! Holy Mother help him! Blessed Jesu, guide him and give him strength!

Old Bastienne's sobs had given place to fervent ejaculations of prayer; and as she prayed she held before her the cross which King Francis had bestowed upon De Roberval—the precious relic said to have been fashioned from a fragment of the true cross of our Lord.

Bastienne was a pious soul, and, moreover, a quick-witted one. She had heard the legends of the island, which had passed among the sailors, and when she grasped the fact that they were to be put ashore, she made some excuse to return below, crept into De Roberval's cabin, and stole the precious relic from its case, concealing it carefully in her bodice. No evil spirit could come near the place where this blessed piece of wood might be; with this in their possession they were safe from all the powers of darkness. She now held the cross aloft, believing that it would give the swimmer power to reach the shore.

Weakened by his long imprisonment, his arms almost useless through lack of employment, his strength sapped for want of proper nourishment, De Pontbriand was manfully struggling with the salt, green waves. His head was sinking lower and lower, a deadly numbness was seizing his limbs, and his heart was almost failing him when his half-closed eyes caught the gleam of the golden cross, as the setting sun fell upon it, held high in the air by Bastienne. He made no further effort to swim. A good hundred yards intervened between him and the shore. He must husband his strength. The waves, he knew, would carry him ashore; and with just enough motion in his limbs to keep him afloat, he allowed himself to be borne along. But the northern water was chilling him to the marrow; and although he could plainly see the women on the beach, and could hear their prayers and cries of encouragement, he felt himself sinking, and De Roberval's prophecy seemed about to be realised. When within forty feet of the shore his chilled limbs relaxed, his eyes closed, and he disappeared beneath the surface of the water.

But Bastienne had all her wits about her. In her young days she had plunged into the Somme as joyously as the bravest Picard lads, and old as she was her limbs were still strong and sturdy. Without a moment's hesitation, when she saw Claude's strength leave him, she plunged into the water, struck out boldly in his direction, and, just as he sank from sight, her strong arm grasped him. With all her remaining strength she dragged him after her to the shore, and Marguerite and Marie rushed into the water to their waists to help her with her burden.

Far off in the retreating ship the watchers believed that he had been given a prey to the demons. Passing a headland they came upon a full-grown seal, which slid from the rocks into the sea, presenting to them its half-human face. Believing it to be a demon, they crossed themselves in terror, and as Claude disappeared from their sight they were convinced that it had gone in search of him, and dragged him down into the infernal world.

Meanwhile, Marguerite sat on the shore, with Claude's pale face in her hands, kissing his lips and eyes, and praying the Holy Virgin to restore him, and not to take her last hope from her.