While we were appeasing our appetites, I got from the deserters an
inkling of our locality. They had been marching, as I knew, from
St. Malo to Rennes, but instead of keeping to the highroad through
Combourg, they had taken a short cut that saved several miles. It
passed through several hamlets, some of which, they said, could be
avoided; but there were others which we must take on our way, and
it was in these that we should be put to the test.
I asked the men if they knew of any spot on the coast where we
might find a boat to convey us across the Channel, and after
consulting together they decided that the only likely place was the
little fishing town of Cancale, about ten miles east of St. Malo.
It had a harbor on the Bay of St. Michel, whence the luggers sailed
forth a little before sunset. I would rather have chosen a smaller
place, and one more distant from our late prison, but the men
assured me that there was no other so easily accessible, or so
likely to furnish the boat we needed; so I determined to put all to
the hazard and make for Cancale. It was, as nearly as they could
tell, about five and twenty miles from our present position, so
that we could not hope to reach it before night, and we had to
reconcile ourselves to the prospect of another day's march across
country on the morrow.
We set off, a strange company indeed. One of the deserters led the
way; behind him went the cart containing the French captain and his
men, now passing as deserters, and all gagged; then came seven of
my comrades with their hands tied, the other two deserters marching
one on each side of them; and the rear was brought up by the bosun,
Joe and myself, and the two men being attired as French soldiers
and having their heads bandaged, their supposed wounds being
sufficient to account for their silence if they were addressed.
Having plenty of time before us, we chose devious and little
frequented roads, the deserters who led us being fortunately
familiar with the district. We avoided the villages when we could,
but towards evening came to a hamlet which it was impossible to
shun, since only through it could we gain a ford at a stream that
crossed our route.
The appearance of a party of soldiers aroused great interest among
the villagers. They came about us, asking who we were and whither
we were going. They were greatly excited when they learned that we
were escorting deserters and recaptured English prisoners. The real
deserters told a glib story of the furious fight they had had with
the villains (pointing to the unhappy officer and his men). The
villagers threw up their hands with shrill exclamations at this
moving recital, and, going up to the cart, gazen open-mouthed and
not without a secret sympathy at the prostrate forms.
Then they asked why the deserters were gagged. At this I took up
the tale, explaining that they were desperate characters, and had
used such terrible language against his sacred majesty the king
that, as a loyal officer, I had sworn they should not speak again
until they were safely jailed in St. Malo. The captain's face was
distorted with rage as he listened to this libel: he flung his
manacled hands about and made frantic efforts to speak, which Joe's
gag was too thoroughly fixed to allow.
"Voila!" said I, with a dramatic gesture; and the simple villagers,
taking the officer's writhings and gnashings as so much evidence of
his desperate wickedness, poured imprecations upon him for his
impiety, and declared that no punishment was too great for him. The
poor people had, I daresay, no great reason themselves for loving
their monarch, but they were anxious that their own loyalty should
be above suspicion.
About the English prisoners they expressed their sentiments without
disguise. The English were their natural enemies, and they hurled
such abuse at my comrades that I felt some anxiety lest these
should cast off their cords (which were by no means closely tied)
and take summary vengeance on their revilers. Fortunately their
patience endured the strain, being aided by their ignorance of the
precise meaning of the opprobrious terms applied to them.
The peasants told us we had come far out of the direct road to St.
Malo, and pressed us to stay the night in their village. But this I
would by no means consent to, for I was on thorns already lest
something should mar our plot, and was keeping a wary eye on our
wagoner, who, though slow-witted, was clearly in a state of great
uneasiness. Professing, then, that having missed our way we must
needs hurry on to make up for lost time, I listened patiently to
the minute and befogging directions given us for finding the St.
Malo road and ordered my party to march. But when we had gone some
few miles out of the village, and darkness was settling down, I
called a halt, and we rested till daylight in a field, taking it in
turns to watch.
During the night I talked long with Joe Punchard about our course.
The good fellow was very uneasy, fearing that when it came to
negotiating for a boat our scheme would break down.
"Pluck up heart, Joe," I said. "I own we are running a desperate
hazard, but so far we have had good luck, and 'tis a case of
grasping the nettle boldly."
"But what reason can we give for hiring a boat, sir? If this
Cancale is but ten miles from St. Malo we can not say we are
sailing thither; 'twould be quicker to go by road."
"Then we'll change our destination, Joe. We may do what we please
in this country in the name of the king, and provided there be no
soldiers in Cancale we have but to put on an impudent assurance to
weather through safely."
I asked the deserters what other port besides St. Malo we might
give out to be our destination, and learning that Cherbourg was
some sixty or seventy miles to the northward, and by that much
nearer home, I determined to make that our aim. This involved
another difficulty, for the authorities in Cancale might reasonably
say that the prisoners having escaped from near St. Malo, should be
entrusted to them to convey back to their prison. But 'tis no good
meeting troubles halfway, and I resolutely kept my thought from
dwelling on the manifold dangers that bestrewed our path to
liberty.
We so contrived our march next day that we arrived at the outskirts
of Cancale late in the afternoon, but with time enough, as I hoped,
to set sail before night. When I beheld the size of the place my
heart sank. I had imagined it to be little more than a village; but
found it a regular town (though small for that), its little
red-tiled houses clustering thick upon a height overlooking a bay.
We had already met and exchanged speech with some of the townsfolk,
and to retreat now might awaken suspicion. There was nothing for it
but to adventure boldly, and I made up my mind to this the more
readily because I had caught a glimpse of half a dozen fishing
smacks lying in the little harbor, and a larger vessel of perhaps
fifty tons moored to the jetty.
With a word to my comrades to be alert and ready for anything that
might happen, I led the way at a quick pace into the town. I had
grave misgivings when I noticed that the streets were en fete,
flags flying at the windows, and people gossiping in knots at the
corners. But we had certainly come too far to retreat, so I boldly
accosted a red-capped fisherman and demanded to be led to the
mairie.
As I walked along beside him I asked what was the occasion of the
festal appearance of the town, and learned with a disagreeable
shock that no other than the redoubtable Duguay-Trouin had that day
put into the harbor on the vessel that lay at the jetty.
"A notable visitor, truly," I said, feeling that I had run into a
hornet's nest. "But surely that small vessel is not Monsieur
Duguay-Trouin's own ship, in which he works such havoc among the
English."
"To be sure, monsieur," said the man, "that is an English prize.
His own ship lies in the offing there, towards the point; it draws
too much water to come into our harbor. And there is another prize
out there too: a big vessel, filled, so they say, with a valuable
cargo. Oh! without doubt Monsieur Duguay-Trouin is a hero, and the
English tremble at his name."
"And why has he honored your little town with a visit?" I asked.
"Why, Monsieur le Capitaine, it is because the English admiral
Benbow appeared off St. Malo this morning with four great ships,
and so Monsieur Duguay-Trouin could not carry his prize there, and
indeed had to make all sail to escape."
Here was news indeed! It revived my drooping spirits; surely there
must be a providence in the proximity of Benbow. But I devoutly
hoped I should not encounter Duguay-Trouin. It was scarcely
probable that he would recognize me in my new attire, having paid
scant attention to me when I was among the prisoners on his deck,
but I trembled to think of the risk we all ran.
"Here is the mairie," said my guide, stopping at a house above
which a flag was flying.
I thanked him, and whispering Punchard to keep an eye on the
Frenchmen, and especially on the wagoner, I stepped boldly in and
confronted the maire, a little man with a cocked hat over his gray
wig.
"Good evening, monsieur," I said pleasantly.
The maire rose from his seat and returned my greeting.
"I am taking some deserters to Cherbourg, monsieur," I continued,
"and I must beg of you to provide me tomorrow with a smack to
convey them thither."
For the moment I said nothing about the prisoners.
"A smack, monsieur!" said the maire. "But it is foolish. Does not
monsieur know that four English warships are in the neighborhood?
Monsieur would run great risk of being captured. I would recommend
that monsieur march to Cherbourg; he would then go quite safely."
"That is perfectly true, monsieur," I said pleasantly', "but it is
a long and wearisome road; my men are already greatly fatigued by
their march from Rennes. The passage by sea would be much easier
and more comfortable, and moreover cheaper, and it is the duty of
all good Frenchmen to save his majesty expense."
I could see that the maire was nettled. His reluctance to accede to
my demand was due, not so much to his fears for our safety--for
Benbow had higher game to fly at than a fishing vessel--as to his
indisposition to provision us for the voyage. Maybe he had had some
experience of the same sort before, and knew that, whatever
receipts might be given him for commodities supplied, he had little
chance of being reimbursed for such services rendered to King
Lewis. No doubt it was some recent soreness that prompted his reply
to my remark about all good Frenchmen.
"To judge by his accent," he said, with a hint of a sneer,
"monsieur is not a Frenchman himself."
At this I affected to be mightily huffed. Laying my hand on my
sword, and knitting my brows to a frown, I replied:
"His majesty has honored me with a commission. No doubt if Monsieur
le Maire has any serious objections--"
"Pardon, Monsieur le Capitaine," the maire hastened to say, alarmed
at my tone. "I was only concerned for monsieur's safety. Certainly
he shall have a smack, equipped as befits the servants of his
majesty."
"That is well spoken, monsieur," I said. "Is it true, may I ask,
that Monsieur Duguay-Trouin is in your town?"
"Not at this moment, monsieur."
I thrilled with relief at this.
"He has gone half a league eastward to the chateau of Monsieur le
duc de Portorson, having already sent a message to St. Malo to
acquaint the admiral that he was forced to put in here by the
appearance of the English warships."
"And did he not fear that in his absence the English might swoop
down upon his vessel and the prizes he has captured?" I asked.
"They are hidden behind the point, monsieur. Besides, the highest
part of our town commands a view of forty miles of sea, and we have
placed a man there who will fire a musket if a strange sail
appears."
"Then I hope that we shall after all make our voyage to Cherbourg
in safety," I said with an air of satisfaction. "And now, will
monsieur be good enough to select the smack?"
Before he could answer, a man who had just cantered up on horseback
entered and said:
"Monsieur le Maire, Monsieur Duguay-Trouin is supping with Monsieur
le Duc. Will monsieur kindly acquaint the lieutenant in charge of
the brig at the jetty, and say that Monsieur Duguay-Trouin will
return before dark?"
"Can not you take the message yourself?" said the maire, whose
temper I fear, had been ruffled by his interview with me.
The man explained that he had been bidden to ride on without delay
to St. Malo; Monsieur Duguay-Trouin, he believed, was concerting a
plan to entrap the English vessels, and it was of particular
importance that the letter he bore should reach the admiral early.
The maire then agreed to have the message conveyed to the
lieutenant on the brig, and the horseman took his leave.
During their short conversation, which I only partly heard, my
brain was whirling with a wild dance of notions the messenger's
tidings had suggested. When he had gone, I turned to the maire.
"Monsieur," I said. "I think there is much soundness in the advice
you gave me just now. It will probably be safer for us to go to
Cherbourg by land. In that case, however, I must request you to
billet us for the night."
"Assuredly, monsieur," said the little man, delighted at the turn
affairs had taken. "Of how many does your party consist?"
"Of seven deserters and five soldiers."
"A dozen," said the maire, rubbing his chin. "I fear I shall have
to ask some of my fellow townsmen to share in billeting you."
"It is not to be heard of," I said, guessing that he wished to
distribute the expense.
Not that I should have had any objection to that; but that it was
necessary to the design I had suddenly conceived that we should be
all together.
"It will not be safe," I continued. "The deserters are desperate
fellows, and will need careful guarding. Besides, I have had the
good luck to capture some English prisoners who had escaped, and
they are too precious to be allowed out of my sight. My men must
take turns at watching during the night; if there were an outbreak,
it would not easily be quelled if we were separated."
The maire had pricked up his ears at the mention of the prisoners.
"Prisoners, monsieur!" he exclaimed. "You said nothing of them. We
have heard about them, and there is a reward offered for their
capture. If monsieur would deign to give us part of the reward--"
"We will talk of that again, monsieur," I said. "I am in haste to
get to Cherbourg with the deserters; I can trust you, no doubt, to
guard the prisoners well until an escort can be sent for them from
St. Malo. In consideration of that, no doubt--"
I broke off expressively, and the maire doubtless regarded his
share of the reward as secure, for he raised no more objections. He
accompanied me to the door, looked contemptuously at my comrades
(who were in a great state of anxiety, I can assure you, knowing
nothing of what I had in mind), and then went on to the wagon where
the supposed deserters were lying. On seeing him the captain
started up and with many contortions struggled to speak.
"Why are they gagged, monsieur?" asked the maire.
I repeated the explanation I had already given.
"Terrible!" said the maire, and the captain grew purple in the
face.
"You perceive I could not allow my men's ears to be defiled by the
language of such a ruffian," I remarked.
"Perfectly, monsieur. Ah, scilerat!" he cried, shaking his fist at
the infuriate officer, and pouring out upon him a torrent of loyal
abuse which I find it impossible to translate.
Then he turned to the bosun, and asked him how he had come by his
wound. The bosun was quick-witted enough to take my cue, and,
pointing to the captain, whose reputation as the most violent of
the deserters was clearly established, he made through his bandages
a series of grunts and roars which proved to the maire's
satisfaction that his jaw was very seriously damaged. And last of
all inspecting my comrades, who stood aside with trouble in their
faces, he bestowed on them sundry offensive epithets which I was
thankful they did not understand, for otherwise I am sure they
would have forgotten their part and endangered everything by
administering a castigation.
The maire arranged to billet us all. Having seen my double set of
prisoners securely locked up, and the deserters with Joe and the
bosun accommodated in a room hard by, I offered to convey Monsieur
Duguay-Trouin's message myself to his lieutenant, saying that I
should be charmed to make the acquaintance of the deputy of so
renowned a seaman. The maire took this as a great mark of
condescension. Accordingly I went down to the jetty, not far below
the maire's house, and accosting the officer in charge, a
rough-spun seaman, I gave him the message, and then bantered him in
a tone of good humor.
"So the English have been too much for you this time, lieutenant,"
I said. "It is Benbow, they say; a terrible fire eater, is he not?"
"Bah!" exclaimed the Frenchman. "Let him beware. He is no match for
Duguay-Trouin, and we'll beat him again as we have done before,
never fear."
"But they say he is bottling up St. Malo," I said.
"So he is," he replied with a laugh: "and while he is bottling up
St. Malo we shall slip by to Havre; trust Duguay for that."
I asked him how the prizes had been captured, and he launched forth
into a long and vainglorious account (why must the French always
boast of their successes?). I affected to be greatly impressed by
his tale of daring, and invited him to sup with me, so that I might
hear more of his adventures at length. As I had guessed, he
replied, regretfully, that he could not leave the vessel.
"I am not to be balked," I said. "I have set my heart upon it: one
does not get every day the opportunity of hearing of these glorious
exploits at first hand. If you cannot come to supper, then supper
shall come to you. Monsieur Duguay-Trouin would not object, I
presume, to my bringing a little entertainment on board."
"My faith, no," replied the officer, taking this as a high
compliment. "I shall be charmed. I only regret that I cannot invite
you, monsieur, but our cook, together with all the crew but four,
is on shore for a spell, and I have no means of providing a repast
worthy of a gallant captain."
I returned in haste to the maire, and informed the maire that I
should share my supper with the lieutenant, who had not enjoyed a
meal fit for a Frenchman for three weeks. The maire could raise no
reasonable objection, though I doubt not, being economical, he
grudged this extra demand upon his hospitality. As for me, I had no
scruples at getting, at the King's expense, the best meal possible
at such short notice.
While it was preparing, I explained my design to Joe and the bosun.
They assented to it with enthusiasm; it was one that mightily
pleased them as sailormen; and appealed as much to their sense of
humor as to their love of daring.
When the supper was ready, I told off two of the three deserters,
with Joe and the bosun, to carry it down to the brig on tables made
of boards, each laid on two muskets. The lieutenant received me
with open arms, and led me immediately to the captain's cabin.
Having placed the viands on the table, the two deserters returned
to the deck, to fraternize with the French crew. The other two I
kept, ostensibly to wait at table; and I remarked to the lieutenant
on their willingness to do their duty in spite of their wounds, of
which I gave him a brief explanation.
It was already becoming dusk; we had no time to lose if my design
was to succeed, for with the imminent arrival of Duguay-Trouin our
fate was sealed.