"As for myself, I have no wish to live. I should feel dishonoured were the army I led to be exterminated, and I, who accepted the responsibility of leading it, to survive. We have the consolation, at least, that never in history has a people fought more bravely against overpowering odds than La Vendee has done; and though at present we are called brigands, I am sure that the world will acknowledge that we have fought like heroes, for our country and our faith. Unfortunate as we may be, I am proud to be one of those who have led them so often to victory.

"When will you go, my friend?"

"I intend to be with you to the last," Jean said. "When the fight begins, Leigh and my wife will be ready, at a point agreed on in the rear of the town. When all is lost, I shall join them there. We shall ride until beyond pursuit, and then put on our disguises."

"Then I will not say goodbye to you now," Rochejaquelein said.

"Goodbye, Leigh. May Heaven keep you, and take you safely home again."

Leigh was too much affected to speak and, after a silent grasp of the hand of the gallant young soldier, he returned with Jean to the quarters they occupied.

"Now for our plans," Jean said. "They are as vague as ever, but we must settle now. It is quite evident that the alarm is so widely spread, here in the west, that it will be well-nigh impossible to pass through even a village without being questioned. Alencon on the north has a strong garrison, at Mayenne on the west is a division, and the whole country beyond will be alive with troops on the search for fugitives. It is only to the east that the road is open to us.

"I should say that the safest way will be to travel so as to cross the Loir between Chateaudun and Nogent, and then come down on the road running south from Fontainebleau through Montargis. Travelling south through Nevers, we should excite no suspicion. If questioned, we can say that we are going to visit some friends at Macon. The unfortunate thing is that we have no papers; and I think that our story had best be that we belong to Le Mans, and fled in such haste, when the town was captured by the Vendeans, that we escaped just as we stood, and omitted to bring our papers with us.

"Fortunately we all speak French without accent, and there is nothing about us to give rise to suspicion that we belong to La Vendee. If we can think of a more likely story, as we go along, all the better. When we get as far as Macon, if we ever get there, we can decide whether to endeavour to cross the frontier into Switzerland, or to go down to Toulon.

"Now remember, Patsey, my last injunctions are that, when you perceive from the rush of fugitives that all is over, and that any firing that may still be going on is but an attempt to cover the retreat, you must not wait for me but, as soon as the sound of combat approaches, you will ride off with Leigh. You need not suppose, because I do not join you, that I am killed. The enemy may have pushed so far through the town that I may find it impossible to join you. But from whatever cause I tarry, you are not to wait for me.

"If I am shot, it will be a consolation to me to know that you will be away under your brother's protection. If I escape, I shall, if I make my way to England, have the hope of meeting you there; and shall not be haunted with the fear that you have delayed too long, and have sacrificed your lives uselessly. I want you and him to give me your solemn promise that you will act thus, and will, as soon as he considers that further delay will be dangerous, ride off. Remember that this is my last wish, this is my last order."

"I will do as you wish, Jean," his wife said firmly. "God has preserved us three thus far, and I trust that He will continue to do so. I shall have the less hesitation because I think that, alone, you will have perhaps a better chance of escaping than with us. At any rate, we will carry out your instructions. But should we miss each other, is there no place where we can arrange to meet?"

"I do not see that it is possible to make any arrangements, Patsey. You may be turned out of your course, by circumstances which it is impossible to foresee; and the same may be the case with myself. Suppose we named a seaport, there would in the first place be difficulty in finding each other. You might see some opportunity of getting across the water and, if you lost that, the chance might not occur again; and the delay might cost you your lives. I trust that we shall not be separated, dear, but I see clearly that if such a misfortune should happen, it were best that we should each make our own way, in the hope of meeting at Poole.

"You may be sure that I shall join you, if possible; for I see that, if separated, your difficulties will be far greater than mine. You, too, would have the burden of the child. But let us suppose that I was wounded, but got away and managed to obtain shelter in some Breton cottage. You might be waiting for me, for weeks, at an agreed point. Now, while travelling, you might escape many questions; but were you to stop even for a few days at any town or village, you may be sure that you would be questioned so closely, by the authorities, that there would be little chance of your getting on. I should know that, and should be fretting my heart out."

"Yes, I see 'tis best that we should do as you say, Jean. God forbid that we should be separated, but if you do not come to the rendezvous, I promise you that we will, as you wish, go on by ourselves."

"And now, dear, we will divide our money. We have still three hundred louis left. I will take one hundred, and you shall take the rest. You are much more likely to want money, if we are separated, than I.

"You had best sew the greater part up in your saddle, Leigh."

"I think we had better divide it as much as possible, Jean. We can put seventy-five louis in each of our saddles, and the weight would not be so great that anyone who happens to handle one of them would notice it. I can put another five-and-forty in the belt round my waist, and keep the odd five in my pocket for expenses. Of course, if we decide to abandon our horses, I will make some other arrangement."

"The best plan, Leigh, will be for us to change the louis for assignats at the first opportunity. Gold is so scarce that each time you offered to pay with it, it would excite suspicion. I have no doubt that I can buy assignats here. We have taken a quantity from the enemy, and la Rochejaquelein will, I am sure, be glad to obtain some gold for them. It will be a double advantage: we shall have less weight to carry, and shall be able to pay our way without the gold exciting suspicion. The assignats now are only a quarter of their face value, so that for two hundred louis I should get eight hundred louis in assignats, of which I would take two hundred, and you could take the rest."

"That would certainly be an excellent plan, Jean, for two hundred louis in gold would be a serious weight to carry and, if found on us, would in itself be sufficient to condemn us as intending emigres."

Jean at once took two hundred louis, which had hitherto been carried in their wallets, and went out. He returned in an hour.

"That is satisfactorily settled," he said. "Blacquard, who is in charge of the treasury, was delighted to obtain some gold, and has given us five times the amount in assignats. Of this I will take two hundred and fifty louis' worth. You will have seven hundred and fifty louis in assignats, and we will divide the hundred louis in gold. Of the latter, you had best sew up twenty in each of your saddles, and you can carry ten about you. People are so anxious for gold that, in case of need, you can get services rendered for it that you would fail to obtain for any amount of paper."

The greater portion of the assignats and the gold, as agreed, was sewn up in the saddles; some provisions packed in the valises; and Jean and Leigh went out together, and fixed upon a spot where they were to wait. The preparations were all finished, when firing broke out. Jean kissed his wife.

"May God's blessing keep you," he said. "I trust that we shall meet again, when the fighting is over."

Then he kissed his child, wrung Leigh by the hand, and rode off to join the general. The women, children, and the men who had thrown away their arms, the sick and wounded, were already leaving the town.

"Marthe, you must go now," Patsey said to the faithful nurse.

They had bought a horse for her from a peasant who had captured it, a riderless animal that belonged to one of Westermann troopers.

"Here are fifty louis in assignats. I wish that you could have gone with us, but that is not possible. Francois is waiting outside, and will take care of you, as we have agreed. The best possible plan will be to separate yourselves from the others as soon as possible. The Blues are sure to be keeping close to them. Ride straight for the river by by-lanes and, if you cannot obtain a boat, swim your horse across, and then make for home. If we get safely to England, we will write to you, as soon as these troubles are over, and you can join us there."

"God bless you, madame. It breaks my heart to part with you and the child, but I see that it is for the best."

Leigh fetched the horse round, and assisted her to mount behind Francois. The two women, both weeping, were still exchanging adieus when Leigh said to Francois:

"Ride on; the sooner this is over, the better for both."

The man nodded.

"God bless you, young master! I will look after Marthe. As soon as we get away from the rest, I shall get off and run by her side. The horse would never carry two of us far."

So saying, he touched the horse with his heel, and they rode off.



Chapter 15: In Disguise.

Leigh returned into the house with his sister.

"Cheer up, Patsey," he said; "it is very hard parting, but I have every hope that they will succeed in getting safely home. Francois is a sharp fellow. They have a good stock of food, and they won't have to go into any village and, being only two, they will have a far better chance of crossing the river than if they kept with the others."

"How they are fighting!" Patsey said, a few minutes later.

Indeed the roar of musketry was unceasing, and was mingled with the louder cracks of the field guns.

"Our men are holding their own," Leigh replied. "The firing is no nearer than it was half an hour ago.

"Now, you had better lie down, Patsey. I will keep a sharp lookout and, the moment I see any signs of our men retiring, we will mount. I know there is no chance of your sleeping, but it will rest you to lie down, and we shall have a long ride before us, tomorrow."

Patsey nodded, but after he had gone out she did not lie down, but threw herself on her knees by the couch, and prayed for the safety of her husband. Hour after hour passed. From time to time Leigh returned and, towards morning, told Patsey that it was time that they should mount.

"Our men have not begun to give way yet," he said, "but they say that Kleber's division has just arrived. There is a lull in the fighting at present, but no doubt they will relieve the division that has been fighting all night, and our men cannot hope to hold out for long. I have just brought the horses round to the door. Now, I will strap the valises on while you wrap Louis up warmly."

In five minutes they started for the point agreed on. Before they reached it, the firing broke out again with increased violence. In an hour numbers of men began to make their way past them. One of them halted. He was one of Jean's tenants.

"Ah! madame," he said, as he recognized her—for it was now broad daylight—"I fear that all is lost. You had best ride at once. The Blues will not come just yet, for la Rochejaquelein, with four or five hundred of his best followers, will hold the place till the last, so as to give us time to get away."

"Did you see my husband, Leroux?"

"He was with the general, madame. They and the horsemen charged again and again, whenever the Blues pushed forward."

"Thank God he is safe so far!" Patsey said. "Goodbye, Leroux; we may not meet again."

"We shall meet in heaven, madame," the man said reverently. "They may take away our country, they may kill our cures, they may destroy our churches, but they cannot take away our God. May He protect you, madame!" and, pressing the hand she held out to him, he hurried on.

Faster and faster the fugitives passed them, but for an hour the combat continued unabated; then the exulting shouts of the Blues showed that they were making way. The gallant band of Vendeans were not, indeed, retiring; but they were being annihilated. Patsey had said but little during the anxious time of waiting. From time to time she murmured:

"Will he never come? Oh, God, send him to us!"

Presently a mounted officer rode past.

"Ride on! ride on!" he shouted. "The Blues will be here in a minute!"

"We must go, Patsey," Leigh said as, without drawing rein, the officer rode on.

"No, no; wait a few minutes, Leigh. He will surely come soon."

Presently, however, a number of peasants, their faces blackened with powder, ran past.

"The Blues are on our heels!" they shouted. "They will be here in a minute; they are but a hundred yards away."

"Come, Patsey," Leigh said. "Remember your promise. We must go; it is madness waiting any longer."

And as he spoke one of the peasants, running past, fell dead, shot by a musket ball from the rear. Leigh seized Patsey's bridle and, setting his own horse in motion, they rode on. They were but just in time for, before they had ridden two hundred yards Leigh, looking round, saw the Republicans issuing from the town.

"Pull yourself together, Patsey!" Leigh exclaimed. "We may have their cavalry after us, in a minute or two. Remember, Jean trusts you to carry out his instructions."

Patsey drew herself up, struck the horse with her whip, and galloped on at full speed. They soon left the road followed by the rest of the fugitives, and turned down one leading east. The din of battle had ceased now, but a scattered fire of musketry showed that the enemy were engaged in their usual work of shooting all who fell into their hands.

After riding for an hour at full speed they drew rein at a wood and, entering it, dismounted and put on their disguises. They had no fear now of pursuit. The enemy's cavalry must have made a very long march to reach the town, and their horses must be worn out by their previous exertions; while their own had had forty-eight hours' rest, during which time they had been well fed and cared for. Moreover, any pursuit that was made would be in the direction taken by the bulk of the fugitives.

Mounting again, they rode on. It was but a narrow country road that they were traversing and, during the day, they only passed through two or three small hamlets.

"Are the brigands coming this way?" they were asked.

"No," Leigh replied. "They are fighting at Le Mans. If they are beaten they won't come this way, but will make south. We thought it best to leave the town. When fighting is going on in the streets it is time for quiet people to be off."

They rode forty miles before night, and then entered a wood; having agreed that, until they got farther away from the scene of action, and struck the road running south, it would be better not to enter any place where they would be questioned. Choosing an open space among the trees, Leigh took off the bridles to let the horses pluck what grass they could, after giving to each a hunch of bread from their store. Then he returned, with the blankets that had been rolled up and fastened behind the saddles.

"Now, Patsey, you must eat something and drink some wine. You must keep up your strength, for the sake of Louis and Jean."

Patsey had spoken very few words during the day. She shook her head.

"I will try for Louis's sake," she said; "as to Jean—" and she stopped.

"As to Jean," he said, "we have every reason to hope for the best. Many things may have happened to prevent his joining us. The Blues may have pushed in between his party and us, and he may have found that he could not rejoin us. His horse may have been shot and he obliged to fly on foot. He has gone through all these battles from the first, and has never been wounded. Why should we suppose that he has not done the same now? I feel sure that if he had lost his horse he would not have tried to join us, for he would have thought that he would have hampered our escape.

"Jean is full of resources, and has everything in his favour. He is not like the others, who have but one aim, to get back to La Vendee and die there, and whose way is barred by the Loire. He has all France open to him and, if he gains a port, has but to get some sailor clothes to pass unnoticed. He is well provided with money, and has everything in his favour. When he once gets away from Le Mans, the road would be open, for we may be sure that the enemy will all gather in the rear of the remains of our army."

"I see all that," Patsey said; "and if I were but sure that he got safely away, I should feel comparatively easy. However, Leigh, I will try and look at the best side of things. If Jean is killed he has died gloriously, doing his duty till the last. If he is not, he will some day be restored to me."

"That is right, dear," he said. "You have always been so hopeful and cheery, through all this business, that I am sure you will keep up your courage now. We have every reason to hope and, for my part, I confidently expect to see Jean, safe and sound, when we arrive home. Now let us set to; we both want something badly."

Patsey did her best and, being indeed faint from hunger, having eaten nothing since the evening before, she felt all the better and stronger when she had finished her meal; and was able to chatter cheerfully to little Louis, who had ridden before Leigh all day, and who was now just beginning to talk. Then they spread a blanket on the ground and, lying down together for warmth, covered themselves with the rest of their wraps; and Leigh was glad to find, by her steady breathing, that the fatigue of the last twenty-four hours had sufficed to send his sister to sleep, in spite of her grief at her separation from her husband.

The next day they crossed the road leading to Tours, between Chateaudun and Chartres. Once over this there was no longer any occasion for haste. There was no fear of their connection with the struggle in the west being suspected, and they had now only to face the troubles consequent on travelling unprovided with proper papers.

Late that evening they entered the town of Artenay, on the main road from Paris to Orleans, coming down upon it from the north side. Here they entered a quiet inn. The landlord was a jovial, pleasant-faced man of some sixty years of age; and his wife a kind, motherly-looking woman. As usual, the travellers signed the names they had agreed upon in the book kept for the purpose, Patsey retaining her own name, and he signing as Lucien Porson.

The landlady, seeing that Patsey was completely worn out, at once took her off to her room.

"Ah! I thought that monsieur was too young to be madame's husband," the landlord said.

Leigh laughed.

"I am her brother," he said. "Her husband is a sailor, and she is to join him at Toulon."

"I see the resemblance," the landlord said. "It is a long journey indeed for her, and with a child under two years old, and in such weather.

"But you forget that such a place as Toulon no longer exists. It has been decreed that the town that received the English and resisted the Republic is to be altogether destroyed, except of course the arsenal, and is henceforth to be known as 'the town without a name.'"

The tone, rather than the words, convinced Leigh that his host was not an admirer of the present state of things. Leigh shrugged his shoulders slightly, and said, with a smile:

"Perhaps France will change her own name. Surely a Republic cannot put up with the name that has been associated, for centuries, with kings."

The landlord brought his hand down, with a heavy smack, on Leigh's shoulder.

"Ah," he said, "I see that you are too young, as I am too old, to care for the present changes. With anyone in the town I should not venture to say anything; but I am sure, by your face, that you can be trusted."

"And I can say the same to you, landlord."

"Are your papers, by the by, in good order?"

"Frankly, we have no papers."

The landlord gave a low whistle, expressive of surprise and consternation.

"And how do you expect to travel, monsieur? How you have got so far as this, I cannot make out; for at any tavern where you put up you might, of course, have been asked for them."

"We have not put up at any towns, as yet; but have slept at little places, where no questions were asked."

"But you can't get on like that, monsieur. Even in the small villages, they are on the watch for suspected persons. You must have papers of some sort."

"That is all very well," Leigh said; "the question is, where to get them?"

"What story do you mean to tell?"

"If we had been stopped anywhere on our way here, we should have said that we belonged to Le Mans; that, like most of the other inhabitants, we fled before the Vendeans entered, and in such haste that I forgot all about papers; and indeed could not have got them, had I thought of it, as all the authorities had fled before we did."

"That story, added to your appearance and that of madame as respectable citizens, might succeed sometimes, with those who are not anxious to show their zeal; but as most of these functionaries are so, you would probably, if it was a village, be sent on under a guard to the next town, and if it were a town would be thrown into prison. And you know, to get in a prison in our days is—"

"Equivalent to a sentence of death," Leigh put in as he hesitated.

"You must get papers somehow—something that would pass at any rate in the villages, where as often as not there is not a man who can read. I will see what I can do. A cousin of mine is clerk to the mayor. He is a good fellow, though he has to pretend to be a violent supporter of the Convention.

"I don't know how you are situated, monsieur, but times are hard, and all salaries terribly in arrears; and when they are paid it is in assignats, and I need hardly say that when you pay in assignats you don't buy cheap."

"We have money," Leigh said, "and I would pay any reasonable sum, in gold, for proper papers."

"Sapristi! You might almost tempt the maire himself, by offering him gold. Only he would suspect that you must have more hidden away, and that by arresting you, he could make himself master of the whole, instead of only a part; but since you offer gold, I have no doubt that my cousin would not mind running some little risk. How much shall I say, monsieur?"

"I would, if necessary, give forty louis."

"That is more than his yearly salary," the innkeeper said; "half of that would be ample. I will go to him at once. It is important that you should get papers of some kind, for at any moment anyone might come in and demand to see them."

"Here are ten louis. I have more sewn up in my saddle, and can give him the other ten later on, when I get an opportunity to go to the stable unnoticed."

"That will do very well, monsieur. I will be off at once."

It was an hour before he returned, and Leigh and Patsey had just finished supper. As there were two or three other persons in the room he said nothing, but signified by a little nod that he had succeeded. A quarter of an hour later the other customers, having finished their meal, went out.

"Here are your papers," he said, as he handed a document to Leigh.

It was a printed form, blanks being left for the names, description, and the object of journey.

"Arthenay Mairie,

"To all concerned—

"It is hereby testified that citizen Lucien Porson, and his sister citoyenne Martin, both of good repute and well disposed to the Republic, natives of this town of Arthenay, are travelling, accompanied by a child of the latter, to Marseilles, whither they go on family affairs, and to join citoyenne Martin's husband, a master mariner of that town."

The destination had been altered when they heard of the state of things at Toulon. The document was purposed to be signed by the maire, under his official seal.

"There is only one difficulty," the landlord said, as Leigh and Patsey warmly thanked him; "and that is that, although it will pass you when you have once left this town, it would be dangerous to use it here; and you may at any moment be asked for it. But my cousin, who is a charming fellow, pointed out the difficulty to me, and said:

"'The best thing will be for me to take a couple of men, and pay the official visit to him, myself.'

"I expect that he will be here in a few minutes."

"Then, as the stableman has gone out at last—at least I see no lights there—I will go and get the rest of the money."

"Yes, I met him a hundred yards off, on my way back. There is no one about. I will take a lantern and go out with you."

In ten minutes they returned, Leigh having the ten louis required in his pocket. A quarter of an hour later the door opened, and a man wearing the scarf which showed him to be an officer of the municipality entered, followed by two men with the cockade of the Republic in their hats.

"This is citizen Porson and citoyenne Martin, his sister," the landlord, who accompanied the party, said.

The functionary walked up to the table and said gruffly, "Your papers, citizen."

Leigh handed him the document. He glanced through it.

"That is right," he said. "Citizen Porson and citoyenne Martin, of the arrondissement of Paris, travelling to Marseilles, duly signed by the maire of the arrondissement and duly sealed. That is all in order. We are obliged to be particular, citizen; there are many ill disposed to the Republic travelling through the country."

"Will you sit down, citizen, and take a glass of wine with me? Landlord, draw two stoups of wine for these two good citizens."

The two men followed the landlord out to the public room.

"I should think, Jeannette," Leigh said to his sister, "you had better to retire to bed. You have had a long day's ride, and must, I am sure, be tired out."

As soon as she had left the room, Leigh dropped the ten louis into the adjoint's hand.

"I thank you with all my heart," he said. "You have done a good action, and I can assure you that it can do no harm to the Republic, against whom I have no intention of conspiring. There is no fear, I suppose, that the maire's signature may be questioned?"

"There is no fear whatever of that, because the signature is precisely similar to that which occurs on all official documents. The maire is without doubt an excellent Republican, and a devoted servant of the Convention, but he is altogether ignorant of letters, and the consequence is that I sign all official documents for him. So you see there was no trouble whatever in filling in, signing, and sealing this letter. The only matter that concerned me was that, if by any chance you should be arrested as a suspect, possibly a demand might be made as to how you obtained this pass. However, even that did not trouble me greatly; for as I myself open and read the maire's letters, I should have no difficulty in keeping him altogether in the dark as to the purport of any letter that might come, and should myself pen an answer, with explanations which would no doubt be found satisfactory."

"And now can you tell me, sir, which in your opinion would be the best port for me to make to, to leave the country? It matters little whether we go by land or sea."

"It would be more easy for you to make your way to a port than across the frontier," the adjoint said, "but when you reach a port, your difficulties would but begin. In the first place, our trade with foreign countries is almost at a standstill, and every vessel that goes out is rigidly searched for concealed emigres.

"On the other hand, once across the frontier your troubles would be at an end; but every road is closely watched, every village is on the lookout, for the orders are precise that all persons leaving France shall be arrested and detained until in a position to prove their identity, and to place the truth of the reason given for journeying beyond all doubt. I do not say that it might not be possible to bribe peasants to take you by unfrequented paths over the Jura; but the journey would be arduous in the extreme, and probably impossible to be performed on horseback.

"But for my part, if I were in your position and desired to leave the country, I should go north instead of south. I should go in the first place to Paris, stay there in quiet lodgings for a little time until you became known, and you might then get your papers visaed to enable you to continue your journey to Calais or Dunkirk. Money will go just as far among the incorruptibles of Paris as it will here. You might obtain a passage down the Seine, to Rouen or Havre."

"That would certainly suit us best. I regret, now, that I had the paper made out for Marseilles."

"That can easily be remedied, monsieur. If you will walk back with me to the mairie, I will write a fresh paper out, and destroy the one I have given you. But what shall I say is your object in journeying to Paris? You are too young to be going to purchase goods and, indeed, would hardly be taking a woman and child with you for such a purpose.

"Now, monsieur, frankly tell me who you are. I have some relations in Paris, quiet bourgeois, who keep a small shop near the markets. If I were to give you a letter to them, saying that you have business in Paris, and have asked me to recommend someone who would provide you with quiet lodgings, no doubt they would willingly take you in. But I would not involve them in danger. You might be recognised as being members of some family who are proscribed, and in that case not only would my friends get into trouble but, as they would, of course, say that you were recommended to them by me, I might find myself in a very unpleasant position."

"There is no fear of anything of that sort. I and my sister are both English. She married the son of a merchant at Nantes, and I came over with her to learn the business. There have, as you know, been troubles in that part of France. We endeavoured to escape, but she was separated from her husband—who has, I greatly fear, been killed—and we, of course, are both anxious to rejoin our family in England."

"How long have you been in France, monsieur? You speak the language well."

"We have been over here nearly three years."

"Well, I do not think that there is any risk; unless, of course, you are caught in the act of trying to make your escape. But I think that it would be as well that my friends should be prepared for your coming. I know a man who is leaving for Paris tomorrow. I will give him my letter, and ask him to deliver it personally, as soon as he gets there; then you can follow, twenty-four hours later. Now that it is known that I have examined your papers, and found them correct, there will be no further inquiry about you and, at any rate, you could stay here for a day or two without any questions being asked."

"That would be an admirable plan, monsieur; and I cannot tell you how much I am obliged to you."

"Say no more about that, monsieur; you have paid me well for it and, moreover, I am not a bad fellow, though at present I am obliged to appear to be a strong supporter of the people in Paris. Now, if you will put on your hat and come along with me, I will leave you a short distance from the hotel de ville, to which I have access at all hours. I shall of course simply put, in the passport, that you are travelling to Paris on private matters, and that you will stay with your friend, citizen Tourrier, in the rue des Halles."

A quarter of an hour later Leigh returned to the auberge, furnished with the required paper. The adjoint had said, on handing it to him:

"I shall not come round tomorrow. We met as strangers yesterday, and it is as well I should not appear to be intimate with you. But should you find yourself in any difficulty, send for me at once, and I will soon set matters right."

"Is it all satisfactorily arranged, monsieur?" the hotel keeper asked, when Leigh returned.

"Perfectly. Your friend has done even more than he promised."

And he told him of the change that had been made in the plans.

"That is certainly better. I have been wondering, myself, how you would ever be able to get away from Marseilles. Now it seems comparatively easy. I have no doubt that my cousin's friends in Paris will be able to get you another pass, or to put you in the way of travelling to one of the ports; though no doubt it will be almost as difficult to get away, from there, as from Marseilles."

"I think that could be managed, landlord. I am a pretty good sailor, and there ought to be no great difficulty in getting hold of a boat and making out to sea and, when once away, I could steer for England, or get on board some vessel bound there."

He tapped at his sister's door. She was still up.

"You are very late, Leigh."

"Yes, but you will be able to sleep as long as you like tomorrow, as we are not going to start till next day, and are then going north instead of south. Our paper has been changed for Paris, instead of Marseilles; and we are going to the house of a cousin of the man who gave me the pass, so we shall be safe so far; and ought to have no difficulty, whatever, in journeying from there either to Havre or one of the northern ports. I will tell you all about it, tomorrow."

They passed the next day quietly, and both felt better for the short rest. In addition to the pass, the adjoint had given Leigh a note to his cousin. It was unsealed, and read:

"My dear Cousin,

"The bearer of this is Monsieur Porson, and his sister, Madame Martin, of whom I wrote to you. You will find them amiable people, who will give you but little trouble. I have assured them that they will find themselves very comfortable with you, and that you will do all in your power for them, for the sake of your affectionate cousin.

"Simon Valles,

"Adjoint to the maire of Arthenay."

They journeyed by easy stages, stopping at Etampes, Arpajon, and Longjumeau, and rode on the fourth day into Paris. They had no difficulty in finding the shop of Monsieur Tourrier. It was a grocer's and, as soon as they alighted from their horses, its owner came out and greeted them heartily.

"Madame and monsieur are both most welcome," he said. "I have received a letter from my cousin Simon. I am glad, indeed, to receive his friends. Fortunately our rooms upstairs are unlet. Strangers are rare in Paris, at present."

He called a boy from the shop, and told him to show Leigh the way to some stables near. He then entered the house, accompanied by Patsey with her child. Here she was received by Madame Tourrier, a plump-faced businesslike woman, and was not long in finding out that she was the real head of the establishment.

"I have got the rooms ready for you," she said. "We were surprised, indeed, to get a letter from Simon Valles; for he is a poor correspondent, though he generally comes to stay with us for three days, once a year. He is a good fellow, but it is a pity that he did not go into trade. He would have done better for himself than by becoming adjoint to the maire of Arthenay. It has a high sound, but in these days, when men are paid their salaries in assignats, it is but a poor living. However, I suppose that it is an easy life, for I don't think hard work would suit Simon. The last time he was up we tried to persuade him that he would do better here, but he laughed and said that people's heads were safer in Arthenay than they were in Paris. But that is folly; the Convention does not trouble itself with small shopkeepers. It knows well enough that we have work enough to do to earn our living, without troubling ourselves about politics; yet if the truth were known, a good many of us are better to do than some of those they call aristocrats. This is a busy quarter, you see, and we are close to the markets, and the country people who come in know that we sell good groceries, and on cheaper terms than they can get them in their villages. We should do better, still, if my husband would but bestir himself; but men are poor creatures, and I don't know what would become of them, if they had not us women to look after their affairs."

They now reached the rooms, which were small but comfortable, and the price which Madame Tourrier named seemed to Patsey to be very moderate.

"You see, your room is furnished as a sitting room also, madame, and you and your brother can talk over your affairs here. As to your meals, I could provide your cafe au lait in the morning, but I can't undertake to cook for you. But there are many good places, where you can obtain your meals at a cheap rate, in the neighbourhood. How long do you expect to remain in Paris?"

"That I cannot say, at present. My husband is a sailor, but I have not heard from him for a long time. At Arthenay there is but small opportunity of learning what happens outside, and it may be that I shall have to travel to Havre to obtain news of him; although I am troubled greatly by the fear that his ship has been lost, or captured by the English. We have never been in Paris before, and my brother naturally wishes to stay a short time, to see the sights."

Madame Tourrier shook her head.

"There are but few sights to see," she said. "The churches are all closed, or at least are turned into meeting places and clubs. It is not as it was before the troubles began; there are few amusements, and no reviews or pageants. I do not say that it is not better so. I have no opinion on such subjects. I have never once been to the hall of representatives. I have no time for such follies and, except on Sunday afternoons, I never stir out of doors. Still, no doubt, it will all be new to him, and as you have horses you can ride over to Versailles, and other places round. There is not much of that now; people think of nothing but the Convention, talk of nothing but of the speeches there, and of Robespierre and Saint Just and Danton. It seems to me that they are always quarrelling, and that nothing much comes of it.

"Now if you will excuse me, madame, I will go down to the shop again. My husband cannot be trusted there a minute and, if my back is turned, he will be selling the best sugar for the price of the worst, then we shall lose money; or the worst sugar for the price of the best, and then we shall lose customers."

So saying, she hurried away. In a few minutes Leigh came up.

"I was told where to find you," he said. "Madame is in the thick of business, and there were half a dozen customers waiting to be served. Monsieur was standing a few yards away from the front of the shop. It was he who gave me instructions for finding your room.

"'It is best,' he said, 'that madame should be asked no questions while she is busy. I always go out myself, when customers come in. She is one of the best of wives, and manages affairs excellently, but her temper is short. She likes to do things her own way and, as it pleases her, I never interfere with her.'"

"I think he is wise not to do so," Patsey laughed. "I can see already that she is mistress of the establishment. But from what I have seen at Nantes, I think that it is generally the women who look after the shops and mind the businesses. However, though she speaks sharply, I should say that she is a kind-hearted woman. However, we may be very thankful that we have obtained a shelter where we can live, safely and quietly, until we have fixed on our plans for the future."

But although Monsieur Tourrier was, in all matters connected with the business, but as a child in the hands of his wife, he was far better acquainted with what was passing around them; and when Leigh mentioned to him that he intended to ride out to Versailles, he at once warned him against doing so.

"My dear monsieur," he said, "I know nothing of the state of things at Arthenay, and for aught I know people may go out riding for pleasure there; but it would be little short of madness to attempt such a thing here. At present things have got to such a state that for any man to seem richer than another is, in itself, a crime. Here all must be on an equality. Were you to ride out, every man you pass would look askance at you. At the first village through which you rode you would be arrested, and to be arrested at present is to be condemned. There are no questions asked, the prisoners are brought in in bunches, and are condemned wholesale. I say nothing against the condemnation of the aristocrats; but when perhaps two or three aristocrats are brought up with half a dozen journalists, and a dozen others who may have been arrested merely out of spite, and are all condemned in five minutes, it is clear that the only way to live is to avoid being arrested, and the only way to avoid being arrested is to avoid attracting attention.

"If you were really going on a matter of business, it would be different, but to ride to Versailles merely to see the place would be regarded as ample proof that you were an aristocrat; and no one would regard your papers as anything but a proof that these had been obtained by fraud, and that you were either an aristocrat, or a spy of Pitt's, or a Girondist, and certainly an enemy of the Convention. Therefore, monsieur, if you wish to go anywhere, walk, or go out in a market cart, for to ride might be fatal."

"I will take your advice," Leigh said. "I did not think that things were so bad as that."

"They could not be worse, monsieur; it would be impossible. But we who are quiet men think that it cannot go on much longer; even the sans-culottes are getting tired of bloodshed. There is no longer a great crowd to see the executions, and the tumbrils pass along without insults and imprecations being hurled against the prisoners.

"The men of the Convention, having killed all the Girondists, are now quarrelling among themselves. Robespierre is still all powerful, but the party opposed to him are gaining in strength, and there is a feeling that, ere long, there will be a terrible struggle between them and, if Robespierre is beaten, there are many of us who think that the reign of terror will come to an end. We who are too insignificant to be watched talk these things over together, when we gather at our cafe, and there is no one but ourselves present; and even then we talk only in whispers, but we all live in hopes of a change, and any change must surely be for the better."



Chapter 16: A Friend At Last:

Day after day, Leigh went out into the town. More than once he saw the fatal tumbrils going along in the distance, but he always turned and walked in the opposite direction. Once or twice, having changed his clothes for those of a workman, he fought his way into the public galleries of the Convention and listened to the speeches; in which it seemed to him that the principal object of each speaker was to exceed those who had gone before him in violence, and that the most violent was the most loudly applauded, both by the galleries and the Assembly.

Patsey was most anxious to be off, but he urged that it would not do to show haste. She did not leave the house at all, while he was out almost all day. At the end of the fortnight, he told Monsieur Tourrier that he had now finished his business, and asked him if he could obtain from the maire of the arrondissement a pass down to Havre.

"It is a pity that you did not get your pass direct from Arthenay," he said. "You say that your sister wants to make inquiries about a husband there, and that you are taking her down, and you also say that you are a sailor."

"Yes."

"Then, I should think that the best thing for you would be to dress yourself as a sailor again. It will seem more natural than for you to be in that civilian dress. I can go with you, and say that you were strongly recommended to me by the maire's adjoint at Arthenay, and that your papers are all en regle. If he asks why you did not have your papers made out in the first place to Havre, say that you had hoped to have been joined by your brother-in-law here; but as he has not arrived your sister is anxious about him, and wishes therefore to go on to Havre, which indeed he has requested her to do, as it was uncertain whether he would be able to leave his ship.

"I know, of course, that it is all right, or my cousin would not have recommended you so strongly to me; but in these days everyone is suspicious, and one cannot be too cautious. I will get one of the market authorities to go up with me. I am well known to them all, and 'tis likely that none of the people at the mairie will know me, seeing that I am a quiet man, and keep myself to myself."

Leigh had no trouble in buying a sailor's dress, at a shop down by the wharves and, having put this on, went up with Monsieur Tourrier and one of the market officers to the mairie. As the former had anticipated, there was no difficulty. Leigh's pass was examined. The market official testified to the grocer as being a well-known citizen, doing business with the market people, and taking no part in public affairs; while Monsieur Tourrier showed the letter that he had received from his cousin, the adjoint at Arthenay.

"What is the name of the ship which your sister's husband commands?" the maire asked.

"The Henriette, a lugger. Formerly she traded with England but, since the war broke out, she trades between the ports on our western coast."

"And you have been a sailor on board her?"

"Yes, citizen."

The maire nodded, and made out the pass for Jeannette Martin, travelling to join her husband, the captain of the lugger Henriette; for her brother, Lucien Porson; and for Louis Martin, aged two years, son of the above-named citoyenne Martin.

As they agreed that it would now be best to travel by water, Leigh next went to the stables and, as the horses were both good ones, obtained a fair price for them. The next morning they went on board a sailing craft going down the river and, after a cordial adieu from their host and hostess, and a promise to take up their abode there, on their return through Paris, they went on board. Leigh had sold the saddles with the horses; having, on the journey to Paris, removed the bundles of assignats concealed in them.

The accommodation on board was very fair. Patsey occupied a roomy cabin aft, the rest slept in a large cabin forward; for before the troubles began, the majority of people travelling from Paris down to Rouen or Havre went by water, and although the boats were mainly constructed for the carriage of merchandise, the conveyance of passengers formed an important part of the profits. At present, however, there was but little travelling, and Patsey had the women's cabin to herself; while one other male messenger, with the master and two hands, had the forward compartments to themselves.

The master explained that, at ordinary times, his two men occupied a tiny place boarded off from the hold, or in summer slept on deck; but that, as there were so few passengers, they lived with the rest "for," as he growled under his breath, "the present."

The voyage was slow but not unpleasant. There was scarce wind enough to fill the two sails carried by the boat, but the captain and his two hands frequently got out sweeps, to keep the boat in the middle of the current. They stopped for a day at Rouen, while the cargo destined for that town was landed. Patsey and Leigh were glad to spend the day in the town, visiting the cathedral, taking their meals at a restaurant, for the cuisine on board the boat was not of the highest character.

"We used to keep a regular cook," the captain lamented. "In those days we often carried several passengers; but at present, when we seldom have more than one or two, we cannot afford it. The Revolution is no doubt a grand thing, and has greatly benefited the nation, but it has weighed hardly on us. There are but half the boats on the river there used to be, and they are hardly paying expenses, now that no one travels. Those that go to sea are worse off still for, what with the falling off in trade, and with the English cruisers all along the coast, there is little employment for seamen, save in the privateers. However, they don't starve; for the greater portion of the men on the coast have to go in the ships of the Republic."

On the sixth day after leaving Paris, they arrived at Havre. Here they had no difficulty in obtaining lodgings, in a small auberge near the port. Their pass was, on their arrival, sent to the authorities of the town and duly stamped. Leigh's first inquiries were for the Henriette. He found that she was well known in the port, and had sailed for La Rochelle, six weeks before.

"She does not very often come up here," one of the sailors said. "Sometimes she is months between her visits. As likely as not, she may have been captured on her way down. Her port is Bordeaux and, if you wanted to find her, you had much better have gone straight there than come to this place."

"I do want to find her," Leigh said. "Is there any chance of finding a ship going down south?"

"Well, you might find one," the man said; "but you would have to take your chance of getting there. Many of the ships are laid up, for the risk of capture is great. It is small craft that, for the most part, make the venture. They creep along inshore, and either run into a port or anchor under the guns of a battery if they see a British cruiser outside. Drawing so little water, they can keep in nearer than a cruiser would dare to; and as they all can take the mud, they do not mind if they stick on the sands for a tide."

Leigh returned with the news to his sister.

"What do you think, Patsey?" he said. "I do not say that we cannot cross from here in a boat, though I have learned that the entrance to the Channel is guarded by gunboats. If we passed safely through these, we should have serious risk and many hardships to undergo. I hear that there are numerous French privateers, and we might be picked up by one of them, instead of by an English cruiser. I am afraid that our passes, in that case, would not avail us in the slightest.

"Now, if we go down to Bordeaux, we have only to wait till the Henriette comes in. Possibly she may be there when we arrive. In that case, I am sure that Lefaux will be willing to take us out, and either put us on board a British cruiser, or land us in England."

"Certainly we will go to Bordeaux," Patsey said. "We may find Jean there. If he escaped that night he would make for the Loire and, as he is a good swimmer, he would get over without difficulty, and he would then try to make his way towards Bordeaux."

"That may be so, Patsey; but I would not be too sanguine about our finding him there. It was so much nearer for him to have made for one of the northern ports that he might very well have done so and, as soon as he managed to obtain a sea outfit, he would no longer be suspected of having anything to do with the Vendeans."

They had learnt before this that, after the fight at Le Mans, the Vendeans had made for the river, had desperately fought their way through the forces that barred their march, had come down on the banks, but had failed to find any means to cross it. Then they had turned into Brittany again for a short distance, had fought two or three more desperate battles, and had again reached the Loire. There was but one leaky boat to be found. In this la Rochejaquelein, with a few of his officers, had crossed the river to bring back some boats that were moored on the opposite bank. Directly they got across they were attacked, but la Rochejaquelein, with two or three others, effected their escape.

After this the Vendeans no longer kept together. The women and children, wounded and invalids, hid themselves in the woods; where they were hunted down like wild beasts, and either slaughtered at once or sent to Nantes, where thousands were either executed or drowned by the infamous Carrier, one of the most sanguinary villains produced by the Revolution. Many of the men managed to cross the river either by swimming on rough rafts or in boats. In La Vendee the war was still going on, for Charette had marched up again from Lower Poitou, and was keeping a large force of the Republican troops engaged.

"I will try not to hope too much," Patsey said. "But at any rate, I am for going down to Bordeaux for, apart from the chance of finding Jean there, it seems much safer than putting out to sea in a little boat."

"I certainly think so," Leigh replied. "Now I will go out and make inquiries as to what craft there may be, bound south."

He returned in a couple of hours.

"I have arranged for our passage, Patsey. She is a fast-looking little craft, with very decent accommodation. She is in the wine trade, and brought a cargo safely up last week, and will start again the day after tomorrow. She carries a crew of eight hands; and I have made inquiries about the captain, and hear a very good report of him, and he seemed to me a first-rate fellow. When I mentioned the name of the Henriette he said that he knew her well, and was acquainted both with the present captain and with your Jean. He had heard, from Lefaux, that her former owner had been denounced, and had been obliged to fly from Nantes to a chateau that he had in La Vendee. The Henriette has never been into Nantes since, but went down to Bordeaux, and was there registered in another owner's name, and Lefaux had worked for him ever since.

"'I fancy,' he said, 'she sometimes makes a run with brandy to England. She was in that business before, and had, Lefaux said, been chased many a time by English cutters, but had always managed to give them the slip.'

"I was half inclined to tell him that I was Jean's brother-in-law, but I thought it better not to until we had been to sea for a day or two, and had learned a little more about him."

The next day Leigh went to the mairie and explained that, not having found the ship commanded by citoyenne Martin's husband, and thinking it likely that they would hear of him at Bordeaux, they had taken passage by the Trois Freres, which sailed the next day. The addition was made to his papers without a question, and the next morning they went on board. They were heartily received by the captain.

"You ought to bring us luck, madame," he said; "I mean citoyenne, but the old word slips out of one's mouth, sometimes. It is not often that I have a lady passenger. There are few who travel now and, before the war broke out, people preferred taking passage in larger ships than mine. Still, I will do my best to make you comfortable, and I can assure you that Leon, my cook, is by no means a bad hand at turning out dainty dishes. He was cook in an hotel, at one time; but he let his tongue wag too freely and, having to leave suddenly, was glad enough to ship with me. Fortunately he likes the life, and I do not think anything would tempt him to go back to an hotel kitchen again."

"I am not particular, I can assure you," Patsey said. "In these times we all have to rough it. Still, I own that I like a good dinner better than a bad one."

"We shall put in to a good many little ports," the skipper said. "Sailing as close as we do inshore, I always make a port if I can, as evening comes on; and we are therefore never without fresh meat, fish, and vegetables."

"How long shall we be going down?"

"That I cannot tell you. It all depends upon the wind. We may, too, be kept in port for two or three days if there is an enemy's cruiser anywhere about. We may get there in ten days, we may take three weeks."

Before the boat set sail, a commissary with two men came on board and examined the passes of the passengers, and searched below the hatches to make sure that no one was hidden there. As soon as they had completed their inspection the sails were hoisted, and the Trois Freres started on her way down the Channel. The wind was light and blowing from the southwest, and they were just able to lay their course, and anchored for the night off the mouth of the Vire river.

"I suppose tomorrow you will get round the Cape de la Hague, captain?" Leigh said.

"No, we shall not attempt that. The coast is a very difficult one, with furious currents. We shall bring up off Cherbourg and start at daylight; and shall, I hope, be well down towards the bay of Avranches by nightfall. There is no fear of a British cruiser till we get out towards Ushant. They do not care about coming inside the islands; what with the fogs, the rocks, and the currents, it is safer outside than in. Besides, there is little to be picked up except coasters like ourselves, and fishing boats. There is hardly any foreign trade between Havre and Brest. It is from there down to the mouth of the Gironde that their cruisers are so thick. From Ushant to Boulogne there are plenty of them, but these are chiefly occupied in guarding their ships going up and down the Channel from our privateers, which run out from every port: Dieppe and Havre, Granville, Avranches, and Saint Malo."

The skipper had by no means over praised his cook, who turned them out a better dinner than any that they had eaten since the troubles began, with the exception only of those they had had at Arthenay.

"He takes a pride in it," the captain said, "and you will never get good work done in any line, unless by a man who does so. A sailor who is careless about the appearance of his ship is sure to be careless about the keeping of the watch, and is not to be trusted in matters of navigation. When you see a craft with every rope in its place, everything spotlessly clean, the brass work polished up, and the paint carefully attended to, you may be sure that the skipper is as particular in more important matters. It is just so with our man. It is a little bit of a galley, but his saucepans shine like gold, everything is clean and in its place. He grumbles if we run short of anything, and is a good deal more particular about my dinner being just what it should be than I am myself.

"Sometimes when we have rough weather I say to him, 'Make me a soup today, Leon. I shall be well content with that, and it is not weather for turning out a regular dinner.'

"He always replies gravely, 'Monsieur, anyone can cook when the sea is calm. It is on an occasion like this that one who knows his business is required. Monsieur will dine as usual.'

"And up comes dinner, with three or four courses, cooked to perfection. For myself, I would rather snatch a few mouthfuls and go up on deck again; but this would hurt Leon's feelings if he saw it, and he might even consider that he must seek another employer, for that his talents were wasted upon me; so I go through it all with exemplary patience. I would not lose him for anything, not only because I own I like good food, but the Trois Freres has such a reputation for good living that, if I am in port, passengers will wait for days to sail with me, instead of going by other craft.

"And then, too, I have no trouble with my crew, and it is rarely, indeed, that I change one of my hands; for although their meals are of course much simpler than mine, they are all perfect in their way.

"It takes a great deal of trouble off my hands, too. Instead of my having a dozen little accounts to go into, at every port we enter, I allow him a certain sum and he manages on that—so much a day for my own table, so much for each passenger, and so much for the crew. How he does it, I don't know. I find that it is cheaper than it used to be, before his time; and yet I have all sorts of dainties I never dreamt of, then.

"I say to him sometimes, 'Leon, you must be ruining yourself;' but he smiles and says, 'I am well content, captain; if you are satisfied, I am so.'

"He buys the fish off the boats as they come in, and I can understand that he gets them far more cheaply than if he waited till they were hawked in the streets. He is great at omelets and, when he has a chance, he is ashore before the countrywomen come into the market; and will buy the whole stock of eggs, a pound or two of butter, and three or four couples of fowls from one woman, who is glad to sell cheaply and so be free to return home at once. At Bordeaux he lays in a stock of snipe and other birds from the sand hills and marshes, oysters, and other such matters. He is a great favourite with the crew and, in cold weather or stormy nights, there is always hot soup ready for them.

"He has only one fault. As a rule, the cooks are expected to help get up the anchor and sails, but he will not put a hand to sailors' work. He says that a cook must not have a rough hand, but that it should be as soft as a woman's. Personally, I believe that is all nonsense. However, as we have a fairly strong crew, I do not press him on the subject; though sometimes, when I tail on to a rope myself, and see him leaning quietly against his galley smoking his pipe, I am inclined to use strong language."

"I don't think that is much to put up with, captain," Patsey said with a smile, "if he always cooks for you such breakfasts and dinners as we have had today; and I do think that there is, perhaps, something in what he says about rough hands."

"Well, I feel that myself," he said. "Still, it is a little aggravating, when everyone else is working hard, to see a man calmly smoking, and never raising a finger to help."

The next day they kept very close inshore. More than once a white sail was seen in the distance, which the captain pronounced, from its cut, to belong to a British cruiser.

"The weather is fine, you see, and the wind is steady, so they are coming rather farther into the bay than usual. We shall see more of them, as soon as we are round that cape ahead, for they keep a very sharp lookout off Cherbourg."

It was not, however, until they had rounded Ushant that any British vessel came near enough to cause them uneasiness. There were two large frigates cruising backwards and forwards off Brest, and a brig-of-war came within shot, as they were doubling Penmarch Point.

"There is plenty of water for her, here," the skipper said. "However, she will hardly catch us, before we are under shelter of the batteries of Quimper."

"I should have thought that she would hardly think you worth the trouble of chasing."

"It may be that they think we are carrying fresh meat from Saint Malo to Nantes. There is a good deal of trade that way, this time of year, when meat will keep good for a week. Or it may be that they want to get news of what ships there are in Brest. However, it is certain that he is in earnest; he is politely requesting us to lower our sails."

He laughed as a puff of white smoke broke out from the brig and, a second or two later, a ball dashed up the water fifty yards ahead of them. The emotions with which Patsey and Leigh watched the brig differed much from those of the captain. They would gladly have seen the lugger overhauled and captured, but they soon saw that there was little chance of this. The lugger was a fast boat, the wind just suited her, and the brig fell farther and farther astern until, as the former entered the bay of Quimper and laid her course north, the brig hauled her wind and turned to rejoin the vessels off Brest.

Keeping close to the land, they passed L'Orient and Quiberon and Vannes without stopping, and did not drop anchor again until they entered the bay on the eastern side of the island of Noirmoutier. The next day they passed out through the narrow channel of Froment, and had gone between the island and the mainland, for a distance of two miles, when they saw a large brig making in towards the shore.

"Another of those cruisers," the captain exclaimed. "This is more serious, for there is no bay we can run into, and the fellow is bringing the wind down with him. Our only chance is to anchor under the guns of Saint Jean des Montes; we shall be lucky if we get there in time."

The brig came up fast, and was within a mile when the lugger caught the wind; then running along rapidly she held her own until off Saint Jean, when she ran in as close as her draught would permit, and anchored. Two French privateers were already lying in there, one having dropped anchor only a few minutes before the Trois Freres arrived.

"I expect it was that fellow that the brig was in chase of, and I am not by any means sure that we have done with her, yet. They are as likely as not to try to cut out one, if not both, of these privateers. Of course it would look like madness, with the guns of that battery on the height protecting them, but they have done such things so often that one can never say that one is altogether safe from them."

The brig stood in until two or three guns in the battery opened fire, when she turned and made out to sea again.

"That means nothing," the captain said. "Of course she would not attack in daylight. I dare say she will sail pretty nearly out of sight, so as to make the privateers believe that she had no intention of meddling with them. If I was sure that was her game, I would get up sail again, as soon as it is dark, and make for Oleron; but it is likely enough that she may think that that is just what the privateers will do, and will sail in that direction herself, so as to cut them off before they get there, and force them to fight without the protection of a shore battery.

"There is the bell for breakfast! Leon would not be two minutes late, if there was an action going on close to us."

Half an hour later they went on deck again.

"At any rate, the sea has saved us the trouble of discussing the matter," the captain said. "We are aground. The tide turned just before we got here. It is now half past twelve, and we shall not be afloat again for nearly twelve hours.

"Well, there is one thing: if they are thinking of trying to cut out the privateers, they are not likely to do it before two or three o'clock in the morning. As soon as we float I shall haul out, a cable's length or two, so as to ensure our being able to get off; and if they do attack, I shall get up my sails at once, and run south. They will be too much occupied to give us a thought. Whereas if I stay here, and they capture the privateers, they might take it into their heads to come on board and set fire to the lugger; which, as I am part owner, would be a very serious matter to me."

It was apparent that the privateers had no thought of the brig returning, at any rate at present, as boats went backwards and forwards between them and the shore.

"What do you think, Leigh?" his sister asked quietly, as they were sitting alone together.

"I do not know in the least," he said. "Our best chance is that the two Frenchmen seem to be so confident that they are safe under the guns of the fort, that they will take no very great precautions. One of them mounts eight guns, the other ten, and they ought to be a match for the brig, even without the forts; for we could see, by her ports, that she only carries sixteen guns. However, I think myself that she will very likely have a try at them. It will be a very dark night, for the sky is overcast and there is no moon."

It was between ten and eleven when, just as they were about to turn in, the captain ran in.

"Quick, madame, you must hurry on your clothes! I heard a sound just now that could only be made by a boat. As we are still aground, I shall bring a boat alongside and land. There is nothing like being on the safe side!"

The two privateers were lying a quarter of a mile farther out, and there were still lights burning on board them.

"The fools!" the captain growled, as Leigh and his sister came on deck; Leigh carrying little Louis, who had been put to bed fully dressed. Indeed, no time had been lost, for his mother and Leigh had agreed that it would be better to lie down in their clothes, in case of an alarm being given.

"The fools!" the captain repeated. "If they had extinguished every light, as they ought to have done, the boats would have had difficulty in finding them. Now, they could not miss them if they tried.

"Now, madame, will you please take your place in the boat with me? I am sure that there are boats coming along. Of course the oars are muffled, and there is enough sea on to prevent us hearing the splash. I think the noise I heard was caused by one of the stretchers giving way."

Reluctantly Patsey and Leigh took their places in the boat. Just as they reached the shore, a shout was heard on board one of the privateers and, a moment later, came the sound of a British cheer. It was followed by a hubbub of shouts, then muskets flashed out from the decks, and almost immediately came the sounds of conflict. A blue light was struck on the deck of one of the privateers and, by its light, those on shore could obtain a view of the conflict. The boats had boarded from the shore side. Two of them lay alongside each of the privateers, and the crews could be seen climbing up by the chains and leaping down upon the decks.

"They deserve to be taken," the captain said. "They have not even triced up their boarding nets."

A confused medley of sounds came to the shore; with the shouts of the French sailors were mingled the clash of cutlasses and the crack of pistols. The British sailors fought, for the most part, silently. On the heights above, blue lights were burning in the battery, and men could be seen standing on its crest watching the combat below, but powerless to assist their friends.

It was but five minutes after the outbreak of the combat when a loud British cheer, followed by a dead silence, showed that one, at least, of the privateers had been captured. The fighting still continued on the deck of the other craft but, from the vessel that had been captured, a number of sailors leapt down into one of their boats, and rowed to the assistance of their comrades. The reinforcements apparently decided the issue of the fight, for in a couple of minutes the British cheer was again heard, and the blue light was promptly extinguished, as were all the other lights on both vessels. Scarcely was this done when the guns from the battery boomed out.

"It is of no use their firing," the captain said. "I don't think they can depress the guns enough to bear upon them.

"There, they are making sail!" he went on, as the creaking of blocks was heard. "Of course they have cut the cables. They would not waste time in getting up anchors, with the forts playing upon them. However, it is mere waste of powder and shot on such a night as this. I don't suppose the gunners can make them out, now; for a certainty they won't be able to do so, as soon as they have moved off another quarter of a mile. Of course a stray shot may hit them, but practically it is all over.

"I think that we can go on board again. I did not think of it before, but they would hardly set fire to us, for the light would enable the gunners to see them till they were a long way out.

"There is no doubt those Englishmen can fight. Our men are all right when they are under sail, and it is a question of exchanging broadsides, but the success of so many of their cutting out expeditions shows that, somehow or other, we lose heart when we are boarded. We must have had nearly twice as many men as there were in those four boats, and yet it seemed to be a certainty, as soon as the English got among them.

"Our craft had much better have sailed out together when the brig came in this morning, and fought her fairly. They ought to have been more than a match for her. No doubt they would have done so if they had thought that they would be attacked tonight; but they relied upon the battery, and allowed themselves to be taken completely by surprise.

"I could see, even from this distance, that most of them were fighting in their shirts; and I expect that they were sound asleep when the attack began, and men roused in that sudden way can never be relied upon to do their duty as they would do, if prepared to meet it."

The party were soon on board the lugger again. Just as daylight was breaking there was a trampling of feet on the deck, and Leigh, going up, found that sail was being hoisted. Keeping close to the shore they ran down, without putting in anywhere, to La Rochelle. Here they waited for a day and then, keeping inside the Isle of Oleron, entered the Gironde and, the next day, anchored in the Garonne, off the quays of Bordeaux.

After thanking the captain very heartily for his kindness during the passage, they landed, showed their papers to an official on the quay, and then, being unhampered by luggage, walked quietly away. As there was nothing particularly noticeable in their appearance, they attracted no attention whatever. It was five o'clock when they landed, and already becoming dusk. They waited until it was quite dark and then, having inquired for the house of Monsieur Flambard, the merchant to whom Jean had assigned the Henriette, they knocked at his door.

It was a handsome house, not far from the quays. The lower portion was evidently occupied by the offices. As a servant opened the door, Leigh, seeing that his sister hesitated to speak, inquired if Monsieur Flambard was at home.

"He is," the man said shortly, "but he does not see people on business after the office is closed."

Leigh saw that his dress, as a sailor, did not impress the man.

"I think he will see us," he said, "if you take the name up to him. Will you tell him that Citoyenne Martin wishes to speak to him."

A minute later the merchant himself, a handsome man of about the same age as Jean Martin, came down.

"Ah! madame, I am glad indeed to see you," he said; for he had more than once been up to Nantes, during the time she was living there, and had been frequently at the house. "I have been in great anxiety about you."

"Has Jean been here?" she asked, in a tone of intense anxiety.

"No, madame, I have heard nothing of him for many months; not, indeed, since his lugger first came down here, with his letter and the deed of her sale to myself. Did you expect to find him here?"

"I hoped so, although there was no arrangement between us to meet here. Still, I thought that he would have made his way down here, if possible, as he would then be able to escape in the lugger."

"He may have found it more difficult than he thought," Monsieur Flambard said, soothingly. "But do not let us be standing here. Pray, come up. My wife will be glad to welcome you, for she has often heard me speak of Martin's English wife."

Leigh had been standing behind Patsey while they spoke but, as the merchant closed the door, his eye fell upon him.

"Ah, monsieur, now I recognize you. You are Monsieur Leigh Stansfield, the brother of madame. I welcome you also, cordially."

So saying, he led the way upstairs.



Chapter 17: A Grave Risk.

Nothing could be kinder than the reception of the fugitives by Madame Flambard. She had heard so much of Patsey, she said, from her husband, to whom she had been married six months before, that she had quite shared his anxiety about the fate of Jean Martin, who had more than once been mentioned as being one of the leaders of the Vendeans. She soon went off with Patsey to put the child to bed and, while they were away, Monsieur Flambard took Leigh into his smoking room.

"Before," he said, "I ask you anything about your adventures, I must explain to you the state of things here. Until November last Bordeaux, and indeed the whole of the Gironde, was moderate. All our deputies—who have now, as perhaps you know, either fallen on the scaffold or been hunted down like wild beasts—belonged to that party. They were earnest reformers, and were prominent among the leaders of the Revolution. They went with the stream, up to a certain point. They voted for most of the sanguinary decrees, although in time they strove to mitigate the horrors inflicted by the extreme party; but after a long conflict the latter, supported by the mob of Paris, obtained the ascendency, and the Girondists underwent the same fate that had befallen so many others. For myself, I cannot pity them. They were all men of standing and of intelligence but, without perceiving the terrible results that must follow, they unchained the mob and became its victims.

"Up to that time there had been but few executions here, and the power remained in the hands of the moderate party. Two months since, however, there was a local insurrection. The party of the terror suddenly rose, seized the members of the council, and threw them into prison. Other prominent citizens were seized, and the guillotine began its bloody work in earnest. Since that time every citizen of position or standing lives in momentary danger of arrest. Not a day passes, but a dozen or so are seized and dragged off. I grant that, at present, there is nothing like the wholesale butchery that goes on at Nantes under that fiend Carrier; it is only those who have wealth and property that are seized. Not only in this town, but in the whole department, the agents of those who assumed power are busy. It is the Gironde, and therefore hateful to the party of Robespierre; and the proprietors of the land, who have hitherto been left unmolested, are being brought in daily.

"The trial is of course a mere farce. The prisoners are murdered, not because they are moderates, but because they are rich; and their wealth is divided among the members of the council, and the mob who support them. So far I have been unmolested. I have never taken any part in politics, business being sufficient to occupy all my time. Another thing is that I employ a considerable number of men, in addition to the crews of some ten vessels which belong to me. I believe that I am popular generally on the wharves, and it is the knowledge that my arrest might promote a tumult, and might reverse the present order of things, that has led to my being left alone so far.

"Fortunately my servant, who let you in, has been in the family for the past five-and-thirty years, and is devoted to me. Had it been otherwise the position would have been a dangerous one. A report to the council that a young man in the attire of a sailor, accompanied by a lady and child, had arrived, and been at once received, would suffice to set them in motion. I should be accused of having a suspect, probably one of the emigres hidden here, and it would be difficult for me to explain your reception. You must, in the first place, attire yourself in clothes such as are worn by the mate of a privateer. I suppose you have papers, or you would not have been permitted to land."

Leigh took out the passes and handed them to him. Monsieur Flambard glanced through them.

"You must have managed well to have got hold of these passes, and they certainly put the matter on safer ground. However, I should find some difficulty in explaining how I came to show hospitality to two persons who, by a strangely roundabout course, had made their way from Arthenay. It is a little unfortunate that your sister kept her own name. Had it been otherwise, I might have said that her husband was captain of one of my ships. But he is unfortunately not unknown here. After Martin's flight from Nantes, a claim was made by the committee of public safety at Nantes for the Henriette. Fortunately your brother-in-law had dated his bill of sale to me a fortnight before he left. The trial took place here and, as in those days law and justice still prevailed in the civic courts, the decision was given in my favour.

"It was urged on the other side that the transaction was invalid, as Martin must have parted with his vessel knowing well that he was a traitor to the Republic, and that his property would be confiscated. However, we got the best of them. There was no proof whatever that Martin was conscious that he was suspected of being disaffected, and we claimed that he had only sold it as, having married, he had decided to give up the sea and to settle upon his estates in La Vendee. Of course, at that time La Vendee had not risen, and it was not a crime worthy of death to own an estate there. Still, the case attracted attention, and the fact that my guest was a Madame Martin might recall the circumstances, and at once awake a suspicion that she was the wife of one of those who had led the insurgents of La Vendee; in which case her life and yours would be certainly forfeited, and my receiving you would be regarded as amply sufficient evidence of my connection with the insurgents.

"Now, for our sakes, as well as yours, I think that it would be strongly advisable that you should take up your abode elsewhere. Believe me that it is no want of hospitality, but a measure of precaution, both for your sake and ours. Tomorrow morning I should have to send in a statement that two guests have arrived here, and it is therefore most desirable that you should move without delay. Fortunately the wives of two or three of my captains live here; one of these especially, an excellent woman, has a house much larger than she needs, and takes in lodgers, generally captains whose families do not reside here, when their ships are in port. Therefore the fact that a sailor, with a sister and her child, have taken rooms there will excite no suspicion, whatever. She will, as a matter of course, send in your name to the police of the town, together with your passes. They will be marked and returned without, probably, being glanced at."

"I think that that will be an excellent arrangement, sir," Leigh said, "and I quite see that our stay here might be awkward for you, as well as us."

"I will at once go with you; that is, as soon as you have told your sister the reason why it will be better for you to establish yourselves elsewhere than here. I may tell you that I, myself, have been quietly making preparations for flight; but it is not all my captains whom I can trust. The Henriette, which I expect here shortly, has been delayed; but on her arrival I propose that we shall all cross the Channel together. I hear the ladies' voices in the next room. It were best that we got this painful business over, at once."

Madame Flambard was greatly distressed, when Leigh gave his sister an account of the conversation they had had, and the resolution at which they had arrived; but Patsey at once saw that it was most desirable that the change should be made, and assured her hostess that she fully recognized that their safety would be imperilled by staying at their house.

"It would be a cruel kindness, on your part, to insist upon our stopping here, Madame Flambard. We know that it is from no lack of hospitality that we are leaving, but that you are making a real sacrifice, in order to procure our safety.

"Shall I put on my things at once, monsieur?"

"By no means. I will go with your brother, first, to see if Madame Chopin has other lodgers. If so, I will go to the wife of one of my clerks, who also lets a portion of a house; or, if you would not mind poor accommodation, to another of the captains' wives as, in your brother's character of a sailor, it would be more natural for you to go to such a lodging, which may very well have been recommended to you by the skipper of the lugger in which you came here. When we have arranged things, we will return. It is but a quarter of an hour's walk, for the house stands near the river, above the bridge."

He at once set out with Leigh. On arriving at the house, they found that there were at present no lodgers there.

"This young sailor has brought a letter of recommendation to me, Madame Chopin. He has a married sister and her child with him, and I am sure that you will make them very comfortable, and can supply them with what they may require. They have just arrived by sea, from Havre; the length of their stay is uncertain. This young man is looking for a berth as mate, and shall have the first vacancy on one of my vessels. His sister may stop with you for some time, as she is hoping that her husband will return here, though he is so long overdue that I fear his ship has been either lost or captured by the English."

"I will do my best to make them both comfortable, Monsieur Flambard, and thank you for recommending them to me."

Leigh saw the rooms, which consisted of two bedrooms, and a third room which was similarly furnished; but Madame Chopin said that she would take down the bed and put some other furniture into it, so that they could use it as a sitting room.

"We should prefer that, madame; for my sister at times is greatly depressed, and we should prefer being alone."

"I can quite understand that," the woman said. "Well, you will not be troubled with society here, as I have only these three rooms to let so that, unless my husband comes home before you go, we shall be quite alone."

"I shall return with my sister in an hour's time," Leigh said; "that will not be too late for you?"

"No, monsieur, it is little past eight o'clock yet, and it will take me fully two hours to get everything straight and tidy."

"Very well, then, we will say ten o'clock," Monsieur Flambard said. "I will keep Monsieur Porson, as he has news to give me concerning the friend who recommended him to me."

On their return to the merchant's, they sat chatting for an hour over the adventures through which Leigh and his sister had passed, and the manner in which they were separated from Jean Martin.

"I think you have every reason to hope, madame," Monsieur Flambard said cheerfully. "Jean is not the sort of fellow to let himself be caught in a hole; and I expect that, when he found that he could not rejoin you, he at once struck north, either for Dunkirk or Calais, and has probably managed to be taken over in a fishing boat or a smuggler and, if he failed in doing so, he would probably make off in a boat single handed. I think that you have every reason to hope that you will find him at Poole, when you arrive there; but even should he not be there, there will be no reason for despair. He may have had difficulty in getting away. He may have been impressed for the naval service. At any rate, I have great faith that he will turn up, sooner or later. Certainly, when he has once managed to get a seafaring outfit, he will be safe from any fear of detection as one of the terrible Vendean insurgents."

At a quarter to ten little Louis was taken out of bed, wrapped up in a cloak, and carried by Leigh. Monsieur Flambard insisted on again accompanying them. The streets were now almost deserted, and they soon arrived at Madame Chopin's.

"I quite forgot to ask if you would want anything, before going to bed; but I can make you a cup of good coffee, if you would like it."

"Thank you, but we have eaten but an hour ago."

Saying goodnight to Monsieur Flambard, they went up to their rooms, their hostess leading with a candle. She had made the most of her time, since Leigh left the house. White curtains had been put up at the windows, and everything looked beautifully clean; and Patsey uttered an exclamation of pleasure when she entered the room.

"This does indeed look fresh and homelike," she said. "Thank you for taking so much trouble, madame."

The next morning Leigh procured a jacket and waistcoat, with brass buttons; and a cap with a gold band. He then sauntered along the wharves and went aboard the Trois Freres, and told the skipper that no news had been received of his sister's husband. It had been agreed that it was best that they should not go to Monsieur Flambard's house, but that the merchant should call at the lodging, after dark. When Leigh returned to the midday meal, he found that the papers had come back from the mairie, duly stamped and countersigned, and that as no one had been to the house to make inquiries, it was evident that no suspicion had been excited.

During the next four or five days Leigh went but little into the town, contenting himself with keeping near the wharves, watching the vessels loading or discharging cargo, and spending much of his time on board the Trois Freres. On the afternoon of the fifth day he saw a lugger approaching and as it came near, he made out, to his great delight, that it was the Henriette. As soon as she dropped anchor in the stream, her boat rowed to the wharves. Lefaux was sitting in the stern and, as soon as he landed, went off in the direction of Monsieur Flambard's office.

Leigh did not go near him. He thought that it would be better that the honest sailor should learn that he and his sister were there from the merchant, before he spoke to him; as any imprudent remark on the sailor's part might be caught up by one of the spies of the committee, and lead to trouble. As he expected, Monsieur Flambard came round with Lefaux, that evening.

"I am heartily glad to see you again, madame," he said, as Patsey shook him by the hand; "and you too, Monsieur Stansfield. I began to think that I never should do so, and I only wish that Monsieur Jean was here, too. Still, I feel confident that he has got safely away; trust a sailor for getting out of a scrape. You must have gone through a lot, madame, but you don't look any the worse for it."