The two midshipmen rolled away down the hill at a very rapid rate, and
then, getting on their feet, rushed on through the brushwood, not
minding how much they tore their clothes, and running no little risk of
scratching out their eyes. As yet no shouts had reached their ears,
which they knew would have been the case had their flight been
discovered. They had got so far that they did not mind speaking, and
were congratulating each other on escaping so well, when they heard
several voices cry out, and some shots fired in rapid succession.
"That must be Reuben," cried Paul. "Oh, I hope that they haven't hit
him."
"The first shot did not, or they wouldn't have fired others, and they
wouldn't have fired at all had he not got to some distance before they
shouted, on discovering that he had escaped," observed O'Grady.
"However, as we cannot help him, we must push on, or we shall be retaken
ourselves."
Paul saw that his friend was right, though he did not like the idea, as
he thought it, of deserting Reuben.
"If he does not join us, we must send or come and look for him. He is
not likely to leave the shelter of the wood," he observed.
They spoke as they ran on, verging always to the right. They forded the
shallow though rapid stream, found the road, and continued their flight,
till they came to the remarkable old tree which had been described to
them. There was an entrance on one side into the interior.
"Up, up, Gerrard!" said O'Grady. "If we are pursued, they are certain
to look in here, but I see a cavity, some way up, into which we may get,
and the soldiers might look in and still not find us."
They climbed up. There was not room for both in one hole. Fortunately
Paul found another, and there they sat, as O'Grady said, like owls in
their nests, waiting for the cart. They heard voices--men shouting to
each other. They must be the soldiers still searching for them. They
came nearer and nearer. There was a laugh and an oath. Paul heard a
man say, "Ah! they must be in there--just the place for them to hide
in."
He gave up all for lost. He drew in his legs, shut his eyes, and coiled
himself up in as small a space as possible, hoping that O'Grady would do
the same. He heard a man stop and lean against the tree, as if looking
in. Fortunately a cloud at that moment passed across the sun, and
prevented the man from seeing the holes.
"No, they are not here--they must have gone the other way," shouted the
soldier.
"Then the sailor must have gone with them. It is strange--they must
have known the country. Such a thing could not have happened at any
other spot on the road."
"Very glad that we did not miss the opportunity," thought Paul.
"Reuben, too, has not yet been taken--that's a comfort."
They waited and waited. They were afraid to get out of their holes,
lest their enemies should still be looking for them. At length, the
wheels of a cart were heard in the distance. Paul, by climbing a little
higher, could look out. It was a covered cart, driven by a man in
white.
"All right," he said; "we must be prepared to jump in."
The cart came slower. They slid down, and a quick pair of eyes alone
could have detected them as they ran across the road, and, without a
word, leaped into the cart. The driver did not even look behind him,
but, as soon as he heard Paul whisper _Nous sommes ici_, he lashed his
horse and drove on faster than ever.
"Miss Rosalie is a brick," whispered O'Grady, as he and Paul crept under
some sheepskins which the cart contained. "Hasn't she done the thing
beautifully?"
They drove on rapidly for many miles. Of course they had not the
slightest notion where they were going. Paul was chiefly anxious about
Reuben, while O'Grady feared, as they were going so far away, that they
might not meet Rosalie. Still, they were not very unhappy, though
rather hot under the sheepskins. They would, however, have gone through
greater inconvenience for the sake of gaining their liberty. At last,
passing through a forest, the trees of which had lost most of their
branches, lopped off for firewood, they reached an old grey chateau,
with high pointed slate roof, and no end of towers and turrets, and
gable ends, and excrescences of all sorts. The cart drove into a paved
court-yard, on two sides of which were outhouses or offices. The
entrance-gate was then shut, and the driver backed the cart against a
small door on one side. Not a soul appeared, and he did not shout for
any one to come and help him. Pulling out the skins, he whispered,
_Descendez, mes amis_--_vite, vite_; and Paul, pulling O'Grady by the
arm, they jumped out, still covered by the skins, and ran through the
open door. Had any curious eyes been looking out of any of the windows
of the chateau, they could scarcely have been seen. They were in a
passage, leading on one side to a sort of store-room, but the man told
them to turn to the left, and to go on till they came to a door, where
they were to wait till some one came to let them through.
"What fun," whispered O'Grady. "I delight in an adventure, and this
will prove one and no mistake. We shall have some old woman coming and
shutting us up in an apple-loft or a ghost-haunted chamber, or some
place of that sort. It may be weeks before we get to the coast, and
something new turning up every day. I wouldn't have missed it for
anything."
He was running on in this style when the door opened, and Miss Rosalie
herself appeared, with a countenance which showed how pleased she felt
at the success of her arrangements. O'Grady was, at first, quite taken
aback at seeing her, and then very nearly bestowed a kiss and an embrace
on her in the exuberance of his delight. Whether she would have found
great fault with him it is impossible to say; she merely said, "I must
not stop to listen here to what you have to tell me--but come along to
where we shall not be interrupted, and then I will gladly hear all that
has happened."
She forthwith led them up by a winding stair to the top of one of the
towers, where there was a small room with very narrow windows.
"There you will be safe enough," she remarked, "for if you were to look
out of the casement, no one could see you from below, and it will be
pleasanter than being shut up in a cellar or a lumber-room, where, if
anybody came to search the chateau, they would be sure to look for you.
See, too," she added, "there are further means of hiding yourselves--for
we cannot be too cautious in these sad times. Here is a panel. It
slides on one side, and within you will find a ladder, which leads to a
space between the ceiling and the roof. You might there manage to exist
for some days--not very pleasantly, but securely at all events."
The ceiling was pointed the shape of the roof, and it was difficult to
suppose that there could be space sufficient between the two to admit a
person. Rosalie, however, pulled aside the panel and showed the ladder,
that there might be no mistake. She charged them also not to leave
anything about which might betray them. "If I were to tell you all we
have gone through, you would not be surprised at my caution," she
remarked.
She then inquired about the sailor they hoped would have accompanied
them. Paul told her that he believed Reuben had escaped from the
guards, and was probably still lurking about in the same neighbourhood.
"We will send and try to find him," she answered at once. "Our faithful
old servant will undertake the work. Here, write on a slip of paper
that he is to follow the bearer and do whatever he is told. It is
important to find him before night, as he might otherwise, growing
hungry, come out of his hiding-place in search of food, and be
discovered. I will tell our worthy Jaques to sing out his name as he
drives along, and perhaps that may draw him from his lair. What is it?"
Paul told her. "Oh, that is a very good name to pronounce,--Rubicole!
Rubicole! Jaques can cry out that very well."
So away she went, leaving the midshipmen to their own reflections--
O'Grady more in love than ever. As they had nothing to do, they looked
through the window, and saw the cart which had brought them driving
rapidly away. Rosalie came back soon afterwards with a very nice dinner
on a tray. She said that she alone would attend on them, for though she
could safely trust the people in the house, the fewer who knew that they
were there the better. The chateau, she told them, belonged to her
uncle, a Royalist, a fine old gentleman, who had nearly lost his life in
the Revolution. She had come over that day, as had previously been
arranged, to attend on her uncle, who was ill, and would, therefore, be
unable to see them, but hoped to do so before their departure. She
concluded that they were in no great hurry to be off.
"Not in the slightest, tell her," exclaimed O'Grady, when Paul explained
what she had said: "we are as happy as bees in a sugar-bason."
Rosalie did not object to stay and talk with the midshipmen, but she had
her uncle to attend on. She told them that she would close a door at
the bottom of the turret steps; when opened, it would cause a small bell
to ring in the room, and that the instant they should hear it, they were
to retreat by the panel and take refuge in the roof. She again
cautioned them not to leave anything in the room which might betray
them; and having placed a jug of water, a bottle of wine, and some bread
and cheese in the recess, she carefully brushed up the crumbs, and
carried the tray with her down-stairs.
"Well, she is first-rate," cried O'Grady; "she's so sensible and pretty.
I don't care who knows it--I say she'll make a capital wife."
"I dare say she will," said Paul. He did not think it prudent to make
any further remark on the subject.
Having exhausted the subject of Miss Rosalie, and declared fully fifty
times over that she was the most charming person alive, Paddy relapsed
into silence. They waited hour after hour for the return of the cart,
hoping that it might bring in Reuben. At last they rolled themselves up
in their blankets and went to sleep. Rosalie had brought them in with
pillows, and reminded them that they must drag the whole up with them
into the roof, if they heard the bell ring. When Rosalie appeared the
next morning, she said that Jaques had returned, but that he had seen
nothing of the English sailor.
Several days passed by, and at last Rosalie said that her uncle would be
well enough, she hoped, to visit them on the following day. They would
have found their time pass somewhat heavily, had not she frequently
visited them. She also brought them a French book, and, with it to
assist him, Paul set to work to teach O'Grady French. Rosalie, when she
came in, corrected his pronunciation, which was not always correct.
O'Grady learnt very rapidly, and he declared that he thought it was a
pity that they should not remain where they were till he was perfect.
"You see, Gerrard," he observed, "we are living here free of expense.
It's very pleasant, and we are not idling our time."
Paul, however, who was not in love, though he thought Rosalie a very
amiable young lady, insisted that it was their duty to get back to
England as fast as they could. He also wished to see his mother and
sisters, and to put them out of their anxiety about him. At last he
told O'Grady that he wouldn't help him any longer to learn French if he
did not put such foolish notions out of his head, and that he was very
sure without him he would never get on. Paddy had sense enough to see
that he must knock under, and that Paul was, in reality, the better man
of the two. They were to see _Mon Oncle_, as Rosalie always called the
owner of the chateau, on the following day. They were not allowed to
have a light in the turret, lest it should betray them; so, as soon as
it was dark, they went to sleep. The weather outside was unpleasant,
for it was blowing and raining hard. They had not long coiled
themselves up in their respective corners, when there was a loud
knocking at the chief door of the chateau, the noise resounding through
the passages up to their turret.
"Some benighted travellers seeking shelter from the storm," observed
O'Grady. "I am glad that we are not out going across country in such a
night as this."
There was a pause, and again a loud knocking.
"Old Jaques is in no hurry to let in the strangers," observed Paul. "He
suspects that these are not friends; we must keep our eyes open.
Remember what Rosalie told us."
"Ay, ay, mate, I am not likely to forget what she says," answered Paddy,
who had not quite got over his feeling of annoyance with Paul.
They listened attentively. Those outside were at length admitted, they
fancied; but, further than that, they could make out nothing. They
waited all ready to jump up and run into their hiding-place, for they
were persuaded that this evening visit had reference to them. They
heard doors slamming and strange sounds produced by the blast rushing
through the passages and windows.
"Yes, I am certain that there is a search going on in the house,"
whispered O'Grady. "I hope _Mon Oncle_ won't get into a scrape on our
account, or dear Rosalie," (he had got to call her "dear" by this time.)
"Hark! how the wind roars and whistles."
There was a door banged not far from the foot of the stairs; it made the
whole tower shake. They were silent for a minute, when a bell tinkled.
Before it had ceased to vibrate, the midshipmen had started up, and,
seizing their bed-clothes, had rushed to the panel. They started
through and closed it behind them, but only just in time, for the door
opened as the panel closed. What midshipmen were ever in a more
delightful situation? They were not frightened a bit, and only wished
that they could find some crevice through which they could get a look at
the intruders, and O'Grady regretted that they had not a brace or two of
pistols with which they could shoot them. They sprang up the ladder
only as cats or midshipmen could do, and had placed themselves on the
roof, when they heard the clank of sabres and spurs, and the tread of
heavy men, and a gleam of light came through a crevice in the wooden
ceiling. It was close to Paul's head, and looking down he saw three
gendarmes peering round and round the room. They were evidently at
fault, however. Behind them stood old Jaques with a lantern from which
he sent the light into every corner of the room. There was a book on
the table, and a chair near it.
"Who reads here?" asked one of the men.
"My young mistress, of course," answered Jaques, promptly.
"She said just now that she was here to attend on her uncle," remarked
the gendarmes.
"So she is, and good care she takes of the old gentleman; but he sleeps
sometimes, so I relieve her," returned Jaques. "She is fond of
solitude."
"That is a pity; I should like to keep her company," said the gendarme,
with a grin, which made O'Grady clench his fist, and Jaques look
indignant. The man put the book under his arm, and having been unable
to discover anything apparently, ordered his companions to fallow him
down-stairs. O'Grady was for descending into the room at once from
their uncomfortable position; but Paul held him back, observing that
they had not heard the door at the foot of the stairs shut, and that
they might easily be surprised. He advised that they should as
noiselessly as possible take their bed-clothes up to the roof, and sleep
there, however uncomfortable it might be to do so.
"Not for our own sakes alone, but for that of Rosalie and _Mon Oncle_,
we are bound in honour to do so."
That settled the question--fortunately--for before long the door opened
softly, and one of the gendarmes crept in on tip-toe. He crept round
and round the room with a lantern in his hand, like a terrier hunting
for a rat which he is sure has his hole thereabouts. O'Grady had gone
to sleep, and had begun to snore. Happily he had ceased just as the man
appeared.
Paul was afraid that he would begin again, and he dared not touch him
lest he should cry out. He leaned over towards him till he could reach
his ear, and then whispered, "Don't stir, for your life!"
O'Grady pressed his hand to show that he heard. He moved his head back
to the chink. Had he made any noise, the storm would have prevented its
being heard. The gendarme was not yet satisfied. He ran his sword into
every hole and crevice he could find, and attacked several of the
panels. For the first time Paul began to fear that they should be
discovered. As yet he had passed over the moving panel. He began to
grind his teeth in a rage, and to utter numerous "_sacres_" and other
uncouth oaths, and at last made a furious dig close to the panel. His
weapon, however, instead of going through the wood, encountered a mass
of stone, and broke short off. The accident increased his rage, and
produced numerous additional _sacres_, and, which was of more
consequence, made him trudge down-stairs again, convinced that there was
no hole in which even a rat could be concealed. He slammed the door
after him; but Paul, suspecting that this might be a trick, persuaded
O'Grady to remain where they were.
The night passed on, and both midshipmen fell asleep. When they awoke
they saw that daylight was streaming full into the room below them,
though it was dark up in the roof; still they wisely would not stir, for
they felt sure that, as soon as the gendarmes were fairly away, Rosalie
would come to them and bring them their breakfast.
"I hope she may," observed Paddy, "for I am very peckish."
Paul thought that he could not be so very desperately in love.
At last they heard the tramp of horses' hoofs, and about a quarter of an
hour afterwards, though they thought it much longer, Rosalie appeared
with a tray, with coffee, and eggs, and bread, and other substantial
fare. They were down the ladder in a twinkling, and warmly expressing
their thanks. They did not require much pressing to set to; indeed,
O'Grady had begun to cast ravenous glances at the viands alternately,
with affectionate ones towards her, while Paul was translating what he
desired him to say. She looked very pale, and told them that she had
been very anxious, though the gendarmes had come, not to look for them,
but for a political criminal, a royalist of rank, who had been concealed
in the chateau, but had fortunately escaped. About noon she came back
with a very nice old gentleman, a perfect picture of a French man of
rank of the old school--buckles, knee-breeches, flowered waistcoat, bag,
wig, and all. She introduced him as _Mon Oncle_. He at once began to
talk with Paul, and soon became communicative.
"I once had two brave boys," he said. "I have lost both of them. One
perished at sea; the other has been desperately wounded fighting in a
cause he detests; yet he was dragged away without the power of escaping.
I scarcely expect to see him again; but if he recovers, my prayer is
that he may be taken prisoner, for I am sure that he will be kindly
treated by the brave English people. That is one of the reasons that I
desire to help you. I have other reasons. One is, that I hope through
the English the cause I espouse may triumph. I am sorry to say,
however, that my chateau is no longer a safe abode for you. It will be
subject to frequent visits from the police, and I myself may be dragged
away with all my domestics, when you must either starve or be
discovered."
The midshipmen agreed to the wisdom of this, and Paul, after thanking
the old gentleman again and again for the refuge he had afforded them,
said that they thought with him that it would be wise for them to start
immediately on their journey to the north. They had consulted with
Rosalie how they were to proceed, and they thought with her that they
might make their way dressed as country lads from some place in the
south of France where a patois was spoken scarcely known in the north;
that he, Paul, was to act as spokesman, and that O'Grady was to pretend
to be deaf and dumb. As a reason for their journey, Paul was to state
that their father was a sailor, and that they had heard he was lying
wounded at some place on the coast, and wanted to see them before he
died.
This story, it must be understood, was concocted by Miss Rosalie, whose
active fingers had been engaged night and day for nearly a week in
making the costumes for the two midshipmen. They had reason to be
thankful to her. The day was spent in preparing for the journey. The
clothes fitted beautifully. Rosalie said that she did not know she was
so good a tailor. The difficulty was to make them look sufficiently
worn. Rosalie suggested, however, that they were to be the grandsons of
a small farmer of a respectable class, by whom they had been brought up,
and that therefore they would be well clothed, with some little money in
their pockets. She had also fastened up in two belts some gold and
silver coins, all the little money she possessed, and she told them that
they must take it and repay her when they could. O'Grady, who fully
intended to come back, had no hesitation about accepting the money, but
Paul wished that they could manage without it; however, he yielded when
the former observed, "You don't suppose that we can get on without money
in France more than in any other country, and if we intend to starve we
had better have remained prisoners."
In the afternoon Jaques drove the cart into the court-yard, and backed
it up to the door by which they had entered. Rosalie came up to the
midshipmen; her eyes were red with crying; still she looked very pretty.
"I have come to tell you that it is time for you to go; you will follow
out the directions you have received as nearly as possible."
It had been arranged that they should go on in the cart till dark, and
then walk as far as they could on foot during the night, concealing
themselves in some secluded spot in the day-time. If they were
discovered, they were to plead fatigue for resting; they were not to
court observation, though they were not to dread it, if it could not be
avoided. They were, however, on no account to enter a town, by night or
by day, if they could help it. No one, indeed, could have arranged a
more perfect plan than Miss Rosalie had done. There's nothing like the
wits of an honest clear-sighted woman when people are in trouble, to get
them out of it.
Rosalie had provided them with wallets well filled with food, so that
they need not for some days stop at any village to procure food--not,
indeed, till they were well to the north of the line of road the Brest
prisoners passed.
Both the midshipmen were very, very sorry at having to part from
Rosalie, and O'Grady felt more in love with her than ever; still they
must be away. Her uncle gave them a kind embrace, and she accompanied
them down-stairs, and kissing them both as if they were young brothers
going to school, hurried them into the cart. It was loaded with sacks
of corn going to the mill to be ground, with several span new sacks to
fill with flour. There was a clear space formed by placing two sacks
across two others, with the empty sacks thrown over the inner end. Into
this they crept. They could look out from behind the loose sacks, and
as the cart drove out of the court-yard they could see Rosalie watching
them with her apron to her eyes. They drove rapidly on, though more
than once Jaques stopped and talked to some one, and then on he went at
the same pace as before. One man asked for a lift, but he laughed and
said, that the cart was already laden heavily enough with so many sacks
of wheat, and that it would break down if a burly fellow like the
speaker were to get into it, or the horse would refuse to go. It was
getting dark, but the sky was clear, and as they could see the stars by
which to steer, they had little doubt that they should find their way.
Jaques drew up in a solitary spot a little off the read.
"Farewell, young gentlemen, farewell!" he said, as he helped them to get
from under the sacks: "may you reach your native land in safety. Go
straight along that road; you will make good way before the morning. I
wish that I could go further with you, but I dare not. Farewell,
farewell!" Saying this, he shook them by the hand, and giving them a
gentle shove on in the direction they were to take, as if his heart
longed to go with them, he jumped into the cart and drove rapidly away.
They now felt for the first time how helpless they were, and the
difficulty of their undertaking; but they were brave lads, and quickly
again plucked up courage. They had been provided with sticks, and
trudged on boldly. Mile after mile of dusty road, up and down hill, and
along dead flats, were traversed.
"It will make us sleep all the sounder," observed O'Grady, who had a
happy facility for making the best of everything. "If we were at sea
now we should have to be pacing the deck with a cold breeze in our
teeth, and maybe an occasional salt shower-bath."
Paul agreed, though they were not sorry when daylight came and warned
them to look out for a resting-place. They saw a forest some way from
the high road, and, going into it, before long discovered numerous piles
of wood prepared for burning.
"They are not likely to be removed for some time," observed O'Grady; "if
they do, they will begin on the outer ones, and we shall have time to
decamp. Let's make ourselves some nests inside; see, there is plenty of
dry grass, and we shall sleep as comfortable as on beds of down."
By removing some of the logs the work was easily accomplished, and no
one outside would have observed what they had done. They crept in, and
were very soon fast asleep. They awoke perfectly rested, and prepared
to resume their journey; but on looking out they found that it was not
much past noon, and that they had the greater part of the day to wait.
This they did not at all like. O'Grady was for pushing on in spite of
their first resolutions; Paul wished to remain patiently till the
evening. No one had come to remove the wood, so that they were not
likely to be disturbed. As they were hungry they ate some dinner,
emptying their bottle of wine, and then tried to go to sleep again--not
a difficult task for midshipmen.
Paul, after some time, was awoke by hearing some one singing. He
touched O'Grady's arm. They listened. The words were English, and they
both had an idea that they knew the voice. The singer appeared to be
near, and employed in removing the logs of wood. Paul slowly lifted up
his head. A shout and an expression indicative of astonishment escaped
from the singer, who stood, like one transfixed, gazing at Paul. The
shout made O'Grady lift up his head, and they had ample time to
contemplate the strange figure before them. His dress was of the most
extraordinary patchwork, though blue and white predominated. On his
head, instead of a hat, he wore a wisp of straw, secured by a
handkerchief; his feet were also protected by wisps of straw, and round
his waist he wore a belt with an axe stuck in it. Altogether, he did
not look like a man possessed with much of this world's wealth. The
midshipmen looked at him, and he looked at the midshipmen, for a minute
or more without speaking.
"It is--no it isn't--yes it is!" exclaimed the man at length. "Why,
young gentlemen, is it really you? you looks so transmogrified, I for
one shouldn't have known you!"
"What, Reuben Cole, is it really you? I may ask," cried Paul, springing
out of his lair, and shaking him by the hand, followed by O'Grady.
"This is a fortunate meeting."
"Why, that's as it may turn out; but how did you come to look like
that?"
Paul told him, and then put the same question to him.
"Why, do ye see, when I got away from our Jennydams, I found a hole in
the hillside close under where I jumped off the road. Thinks I to
myself, if I tumbles in here, they'll all go pelting away down the hill
through the wood, leaving me snug; and so they did. I heard them
halloing, and cursing, and swearing at one another, and I all the time
felt just like an old fox in his cover till they'd gone away on their
road wondering where I'd gone. I then started up and ran down the hill
just in time to see a cart driven by a man in white. I shouted, but he
didn't hear me, and so I hoped it would be all right for you, at all
events. Then I went back to my hole, and thinks I to myself, if I goes
wandering about in this guise I'll sure to be taken: so I remembers that
I'd got in my pocket the housewife my old mother gave me, and which the
rascally privateer's-men hadn't stolen; so out I takes it and sets to
work to make up my clothes in a new fashion. I couldn't make myself
into a mounseer--little or big--by no manner of means, so I just
transmogrified my clothes as you see them, that I mightn't be like a
runaway prisoner. It took me two days before I was fit to be seen--
pretty smart work; and that's how the servant the old gentleman sent out
missed me. At last I set out for the sea; but I was very hungry, and I
can't say if I'd fallen in with a hen-roost what I'd have done. I got
some nuts and fruit though, enough to keep body and soul together.
Three days I wandered on, when I found myself in this very wood. I was
getting wickedly hungry, and I was thinking I must go out and beg, when
I sees a cart and a man coming along, so I up and axes him quite civilly
if he'd a bit of a dinner left for a poor fellow. I was taken all aback
with astonishment when he speaks to me in English, and tells me that
he'd been some months in a prison across the Channel, and knows our
lingo, and that he was treated so kindly that he'd sworn he'd never bear
arms against us again, if he could help it. With that he gives me some
bread and cheese and wine, and when his day's work was over he takes me
to his house, at the borders of the forest, near a village. As I
wouldn't eat the bread of idleness, I offered to help him, and as I can
handle an axe with most men, I have been working away ever since as a
wood-cutter. Now I know that if you'll come with me to his cottage,
he'll gladly give you lodging and food as long as you like to stay, and
then, of course, I must pack up and be off with you."
The midshipmen told Reuben how glad they were to find him, though they
agreed that by his travelling on with them their difficulties would be
somewhat increased, as they were puzzled to know what character he could
assume. He was so thoroughly the English sailor that even his very walk
would betray him.
He acknowledged this; but after scratching his head for five minutes,
and giving sundry tugs at his rather curious-looking breeches, he
exclaimed: "I've hit it. I'll go on crutches and follow in your wake;
when no one is looking I'll make play, and I'll keep up with you, I'll
warrant. If I'm axed who I am, I'll pretend that I'm a 'Talian, or some
other furriner, who can't speak the French lingo, and just make all
sorts of gabblifications. Just you leave it to me, young gentlemen, if
you'll let me come with you."
Though there was considerable risk in the plan, the midshipmen could
think of no other. They agreed to go to the wood-cutter's hut, and if,
after talking the matter over, they could not improve on Reuben's plan,
to start the following evening. Having assisted him to load his cart,
they set forward at once. The path led them for most of the way through
the forest. It was still broad daylight when they approached the
cottage. It stood at the edge of a green, on which a number of
villagers were seen collected. They were themselves perceived before
they had time to retreat, which it would have been wise for them, they
felt, to do.
"Let us put a bold face on the matter and go forward!" exclaimed
O'Grady. "Reuben, go on with the cart; we had better have nothing to
say to you at present."
They at once walked on towards the villagers without exhibiting any
marks of hesitation. Reuben looked after them with as indifferent an
air as he could assume, as he drove his cart up to the woodman's
cottage.
"I see a high road; let us turn towards it, and walk along it as if we
were not going to stop at the village," observed Paul; "we may thus
avoid questions, and we may come back to the wood-cutter's when it is
dark; Reuben will prepare him for our appearance."
O'Grady agreed to this plan, and they were walking along pretty briskly,
hoping to pass an auberge, or inn, at the side of the road, when the
aubergiste, or inn-keeper, who happened to be in very good humour after
his evening potations, caught sight of them, and shouted out, "Come in,
come in, mes garcons! there is no other auberge in the place, and you
would not pass by the house of Francois le Gros!" And he patted his
well-stuffed-out ribs, for there are fat Frenchmen as well as fat
Englishmen.
Thus appealed to, the midshipmen thought it wiser to go up to the man,
and Paul told him that as they had very little money, they preferred
stopping out at night when the weather was fine.
"That will never do," cried honest Francois. "Tell me all about
yourselves, and you shall have board and lodging free. Numerous great
people stop here, and so does the diligence, and as I am patronised by
all around, I can afford at times to help young wayfarers like
yourselves."
Paul, anxious especially to avoid so public a place as an inn, made more
excuses. While he was speaking the landlord looked very hard at him.
Several other villagers did the same.
"Why, you do not look very like what you say you are!" he exclaimed.
"Come nearer, and let me have a better look at you."
"Thank you," said Paul; "if you don't believe me, I won't ask you to do
so; but let us go on, and we will not trouble you."
This speech did not satisfy the landlord, and several disagreeable
remarks were made by the bystanders. Altogether, matters were looking
very bad, when the attention of the villagers was called off by the
sound of the loud cracks of whips, the tramping of horses, the rumbling
of wheels, and the appearance of a cloud of dust, out of which emerged a
huge lumbering vehicle with a vast hood in front, a long big body
covered with boxes and baskets, and drawn by six horses, governed by two
postillions dressed in huge jack boots, cocked hats, and gold-laced
coats. They dashed up to the inn with as much clatter and noise as they
could make. More of the villagers collected; and while the horses were
being brought out, and the landlord was engaged in attending to his
customers, O'Grady whispered to Paul that he thought they might possibly
slip out of the crowd unobserved; and while some of the villagers had to
move out of the way of the released horses, they moved round on the
other side of the diligence and walked rapidly along the road.
At that moment Francois had come out with a jug of wine for an old
gentleman in the inside, and as he was returning, his eye fell on the
fugitives. His suspicions now increased; he shouted to some of his
cronies to make chase and bring them back. As the villagers were making
holiday and had nothing to do, a dozen or more set off in chase.
"I wish that we hadn't tried to get away," said Paul. "Let's go back
boldly, and say that we hoped to get on to the next village; but as they
are determined to keep us, we will stay with them."
They, however, had barely time to turn before their pursuers were upon
them; and in no very happy state of mind they were dragged back to the
village. They came in sight of the inn just as the diligence had driven
off. One passenger had remained behind, who stood watching them with a
look of considerable interest while the landlord was describing to him
how they had made their appearance, and expressing his opinion that they
were no better than they should be.