ESCAPE.

Three more shots were fired at intervals, as the brig kept making short

tack after tack, and with each report the flash appeared to be brighter,

indicative of the increasing darkness, while now a pale lambent light

seemed to be dawning at times and making the shape of the brig stand out

more clearly at intervals, but only to fade away again quickly, while

there were moments when the vessel quite disappeared.

"Why is that, uncle?" asked Rodd quickly, as he looked vainly now in

search of the flying craft. "Ah, there she is again! I began to think

she had gone down. Why is she seen so dimly sometimes?"

"Hidden by the flying spray, I think," said Uncle Paul.

"Oh yes, of course," cried the boy. "Ah, there she is, quite clear now,

and still going on nearer and nearer to the harbour mouth. No--now it's

getting darker than ever.--There, now she's coming into sight again

quite clearly."

"Yes, she's getting out where the harbour lights are full upon her,"

said Uncle Paul.

As he spoke there were two more reports, almost simultaneous, and Rodd

felt a peculiar sense of pain attacking him, for at one moment when the

two guns flashed, the brig could be plainly seen; the next, as the boy

strained his eyes, all was black darkness, and he caught at his uncle's

arm with his hands trembling and an intense longing upon him to speak;

but no words would come.

It seemed like some minutes before a word was uttered, and then it was

the doctor who spoke.

"I haven't caught sight of the boats lately," he said. "It is evident

that they have given up the chase."

"Oh, uncle, uncle," cried Rodd, "I was not thinking about them, but of

those poor fellows in the brig. One of those last shots must have hit,

and they have gone down."

"Oh no," cried Uncle Paul; "I saw her once again. Just now.--Yes, there

she is, tossing wildly in the waves. She must be beyond the mouth of

the harbour, and--"

"Yes, I see her! I see her!" cried Rodd wildly. "No, she's gone again;

but she was pitching and tossing horribly."

"Yes," said Uncle Paul. "It's going to be hard work for them now, for

the waves out there must be tremendous. Well, my boy, it was a daring

attempt, and whoever they are let's hope they may escape, but--"

Uncle Paul was silent, and once more the boy uttered a low groan.

Then no one spoke, but all stood straining their eyes to try and catch

sight again of the vessel, which had seemed to be pitching wildly in the

darkness; but they looked in vain, for all now seemed to be rapidly

growing black.

The boy tried to speak, but no words would come, and even the waiter was

silent, as he stood trying to catch sight of the vessel once more; but

the darkness now was rapidly increasing, and though from time to time

they could make out the faint outline of the lights, all seemed to

become more dense and obscure, and the boy started violently as their

guide suddenly exclaimed--

"It is no use now, sare. I sink she must have gone down."

Silence; but as Uncle Paul pressed his nephew's arm Rodd followed him

slowly without a word, while the waiter shook his head and suggested

that they should return to the _cafe_.

The boy gave one glance before stirring, and then uttered a sigh.

"Come, my boy," said his uncle; "perhaps there is no occasion to

despair. It is quite evident that the captain of the brig knows what he

is about, and may escape."

Rodd followed his uncle without a word, the waiter going on before them

to show the devious ways along by the harbour and the old town.

As they drew near the yard Rodd felt a sense of hesitation. "I think I

would rather get back on board the schooner, uncle," he said.

"Oh, but we couldn't do that, my boy," cried Uncle Paul. "I gave an

order for dinner to be prepared."

"Yes, uncle, but I don't feel as if I could eat anything now."

"Why?"

"It seemed so horrible watching that vessel trying to escape under

fire."

"It was evidently not hit, my boy."

"But it was going right out into the face of this storm, and even you

thought she'd be driven ashore."

"Yes; perhaps I have been thinking the worst; but the brig's captain is

evidently a clever sailor and knows what he's about. It is rather

jumping at conclusions to consider that he will let his vessel be

wrecked. Yes, it was nervous work watching a vessel like that; but

there, we must hope for the best, and possibly there is no reason to

despond. Whoever the brig belonged to had good reason for getting away,

and they have succeeded in that. There, come along; let's have our

dinner, and think no more about it. But hallo! What's the matter

here?"

Uncle Paul's remark was caused by a loud angry voice scolding in French

at the waiter who had just led them to the yard door, and it was evident

that the man was in difficulties for absenting himself from his duties

after giving the order that the visitors' dinner should be prepared.

"But I have been in attendance upon the gentlemen," he protested, with

not much truth in his utterance. "I had to take them down to the side

of the harbour to see the firing at the spy. Is everything ready?

Because the gentlemen are anxious for their dinner."

Uncle Paul nudged his nephew, glad of the opportunity to change the

bearing of the boy's thoughts, and shortly after the good meal prepared

in the snug, warm room diverted Rodd's mind from the roaring of the

storm, which was still beating round the great hotel; and they had just

finished and were talking about going outside to see what the weather

was like, when a very familiar gruff voice saluted their ears, as the

waiter showed Captain Chubb into the room.

"Oh, here you are," he grunted. "Come ashore to look after you. 'Fraid

you were lost."

"We are very glad to see you," said Uncle Paul. "Sit down. We thought

it was not safe to try and get aboard."

"Well, it aren't very," said the skipper; "but we come in the boat to

make sure you weren't both drowned, and if you'll risk it I think I can

get you round by keeping under the lee of two or three vessels."

"What do you say, Rodd?" asked Uncle Paul. "Shall we risk it?"

"Oh, I don't think that there'll be much risk, uncle, if Captain Chubb

considers it safe. I don't mind going with him."

The skipper gave the boy a nod and looked pleased; then nodding at Uncle

Paul he said quietly--

"As we were ashore I told the men to get a few stores down to the boat,

and that I'd meet them here. I dare say Joe Cross will be an hour, and

by that time it will have lulled a bit, or else be a deal worse, and

we'll see."

It took very little persuasion to make the skipper partake of some of

the hotel fare, and naturally enough the conversation turned upon the

incident that had lately taken place.

"Yes," said Captain Chubb, "the skipper of that craft has got some stuff

in him, and he knew how to navigate his boat. I could have done it if

I'd been obliged, but I should have wanted a deal of shoving before I

hoisted sail. Storm was bad enough, and no room to tack; but what I

shouldn't have liked was being fired at by two boats' crews and three or

four forts. I know what being fired at is, young squire," continued the

captain, giving Rodd a very peculiar look out of one eye, after closing

the other, "and you may take my word for it it aren't nice."

"What, have you been out in a man-of-war?" asked Rodd eagerly.

"Nay, my lad, but several of our fellows have, and if you ask them, they

can tell you what it's like too."

"Then you never were fired at?" said Rodd questioningly.

"Who says I warn't? I tell you I was, though it wasn't by forts. It

was a Revenue cutter got trying to hit me."

"What, smuggling?" cried Rodd.

"Nay! Smuggling, indeed! It was her skipper--Lieutenant somebody or

another--I forget his name--say Smith. He made a blunder, same as I did

in taking you and the doctor here for slavers."

"Oh!" cried Rodd, laughing.

"Ah, it warn't anything to laugh at, my lad, with round shot coming

a-splashing right across your bows. Certainly it was in a fog, and my

craft didn't get hit, but more than once the balls came pretty near, and

I remember thinking whether if the cutter did sink us we should all be

able to swim ashore, and I come to the conclusion that we couldn't in

our boots, for it was about nine miles."

"I should think not," replied Rodd dryly. "But, Captain Chubb--about

that brig; do you think they'd get right away to sea?"

"I shouldn't think they'd try to, my lad."

"They seemed to be trying to."

"Not they. Her skipper, as soon as he got outside the harbour, would

try to creep under the lee of the high ground somewhere out west.

Whether he'd do it or not is quite another thing. Let's hope he did,

for I don't care about hearing that good men and true have been drowned

in a storm, even if they are French. I am not like your uncle here."

"Come, I say, Captain Chubb," cried the doctor indignantly, "how dare

you say that! Surely a thinking man can have a feeling of antipathy

against Napoleon Bonaparte and all his works without being accused of

liking to see brave Frenchmen drowned."

"Beg pardon, sir. I suppose you are right," granted the skipper; "but I

should like to hear that that there smart brig got safe away."

"Well, I hope so too," said Uncle Paul shortly, and with a look in his

countenance that made Rodd think about some words a friend had once said

about a red rag to a bull. "But I suppose you don't believe that vessel

had some emissaries of Napoleon on board, come to set fire to the port

of Havre?"

"Nay," said the skipper, drawing out the negative very deliberately.

"Don't see any likelihood of their doing such a thing. What for?

Suppose they did get it alight, that wouldn't bring Bony back. Nay, his

game's about up now, and there will be quiet again over here for a bit,

though I wouldn't venture to say for how long. Keeping quiet isn't in a

Frenchman's nature."

"But there was evidently something very special about the vessel, or

else the French Government wouldn't have sent orders for her to be

seized."

"French Government did?"

"Yes, I believe so," replied Uncle Paul. "We saw the officer and his

men come riding in with the dispatch."

"Nay. Order for the Revenue to put men on board."

"Oh no," replied Uncle Paul. "From what we saw and what we heard, it

was something much more important than that. Why, hang it, captain,

they wouldn't have turned out the garrison and manned all the forts to

stop the progress of a smuggler, would they?"

"We wouldn't at Plymouth, sir; but there's no knowing what Frenchmen

will do. But there, I give in. It must have been something stronger

than that, and I am beginning to think that squire here's right, and

that yon vessel, the--the--the--"

"_Jeanne d'Arc_" cried Rodd.

"Right," snorted the skipper. "She was something of a privateer, on

mischief bent, and I shouldn't be a bit surprised if we was to hear

something more about her. I don't know, though; if the storm blows

itself out before morning we shan't lie long here in harbour, but make

away south as fast as I can make the schooner bowl along."

"Then you think the weather will hold up soon?" said Rodd.

"Nay, I am not going to think, squire; I'll wait until I can be sure.

Anyhow, I won't fill my pipe till we get aboard."

"Then you mean to try soon?" cried Rodd eagerly.

"Why not?" replied the skipper gruffly. "Look yonder; what do you say

to that?"

"That" was the presence of Joe Cross, who was being ushered into the

dining-saloon by the waiter, to announce that the wind had sunk a bit

and only came in squalls, between two of which he thought he could

easily run the boat alongside of the schooner.

And he did--while the next morning broke almost absolutely calm.