THE _TROIS FRÈRES_ OF CAEN
But Fortune, after whom Fortuné de la Vireville had been somewhat
ironically named, had all his life taken away with one hand what
she had given him with the other. So now she granted to him to
get clear of the town of Abbeville, to find unmolested the way
to St. Valéry, to meet thereon none to question or stay him, to
arrive there a little before six, when the life of the small port
was already bustling, to perceive, lounging on the quayside, a
seafaring individual whose countenance seemed to promise accessibility
to a bribe . . . and to overhear, at that very moment, a piece
of news which made all attempt at bribing him useless. For it was
quite clear, from a conversation going on, within easy earshot,
between two master mariners, one of whom had evidently just come
into harbour, that the greater part of the Brest squadron had come
up in the night, and was even now cruising between Dieppe and
Boulogne.
"Nine sail of the line, and I don't know how many frigates." Was
ever such ill-luck! The fugitives were clean cut off, that way,
from the shores of England, while on the road behind them were
hastening, or would shortly hasten, the justly-incensed officials
of the town of Abbeville. La Vireville knew an instant's real
despair, and his fingers tightened involuntarily on the small hand
in his. They _must_ get back to England. But they could not--at
least not by the way of his choice, the most direct and obvious
way, the Channel. That path was barred before them. Of course
there was another road. If they could only reach that outpost of
England, Jersey! But it was the deuce of a long journey, and since
the sea was now denied them, they must go by land till they reached
the coast of the Cotentin, a far more hazardous route, armed though
La Vireville now was with the fairly extensive powers conveyed to
him by M. Duchâtel's papers. . . . Well, they must make the best
of a bad business, and the first step was to remove themselves
from the harbour, where curious glances were already beginning
to be cast at him and his small companion. He must leave as few
traces as possible for the inquirers from Abbeville when they came.
La Vireville was, in fact, actually turning away from the shed by
which they were standing, when his eyes fell on a vessel at the
quayside which he had not previously noticed, a schooner-rigged
barque of some three hundred tons burthen, on whose broad stern,
surrounded by flourishes, could be read her name and port of
origin--the _Trois Frères_ of Caen. It was this legend which caused
him suddenly to stay his steps and to give vent to a murmured
exclamation. What if the fleet of the Republic _were_ cruising
along the coast from Dieppe to Boulogne! With his face set, not
for England, but for a more westerly French port, and the tricolour
floating over him, he could pass unscathed through that fleet even
if it were encountered. They would go to Caen--if the barque were
shortly putting to sea and if the captain would take them. And from
Caen, ten or twelve hours' posting would bring them to the shore
of the Cotentin, to Granville, or to Carteret, the nearest port of
all France to Jersey. It was an excellent scheme, could it be put
in practice, and one possessing an advantage of its own, that by
taking to the water at once they would have a very good chance of
breaking the scent.
La Vireville looked carefully at what he could see of the _Trois
Frères_. A certain subdued bustle among her small crew seemed to
indicate an early departure, which was good. The next problem was
the mind of the captain. If that were he, red-faced, blue-eyed,
standing near the rail with a pipe in his mouth and occasionally
issuing an order, he looked as if he might be open to persuasion.
At least the attempt should be made.
All this while Anne-Hilarion had stood patiently, his hand in his
rescuer's, asking no questions, and evidently little disposed,
after his unwonted night, to take an interest even in the shipping.
The émigré bent down to him.
"Anne," he said in a low voice, "I am going to ask the man on that
ship to take us to Caen. We cannot go straight to England, as I had
hoped. Now you must be sure to bear me out in what you hear me say,
even if it is not exactly true. I shall have, I think, to pretend
that you are my nephew, so you must remember to call me uncle--never
anything else. Very likely I shall pretend also that we live at Caen.
You must not say anything about England. You understand, little one?"
"Yes," replied Anne-Hilarion, lifting a rather grimy and pallid
face. Then he gave a little sigh, as one who makes a reluctant
sacrifice of truth to necessity. And indeed he was a very truthful
child; yet La Vireville more correctly interpreted his emotion.
"You want your breakfast, mon petit, do you not? Never mind, you
shall soon have it. Only help me to soften the heart of this
sea-captain."
And, approaching the _Trois Frères_, the émigré hailed the smoker.
"Are you the master of this ship, citizen?"
The sailor removed his pipe. "Mate," he replied laconically. "Master
just coming aboard." He indicated with the stem of his pipe another
mariner, also red-faced and blue-eyed, who was making his way
round a pile of timber towards the gang-plank. Him La Vireville
intercepted, hastily filling up in his own mind the gaps in the
story designed for his edification, since here Duchâtel's papers
were not likely to be of much avail.
"Captain," he began enthusiastically, taking off his hat, "the
Supreme Being has surely sent you to a fellow-creature in need!"
The master of the _Trois Frères_ grunted. "Le bon Dieu is good
enough for a plain sailor like me," he responded, and the émigré
perceived that he had overshot the mark. "What do you want?"
"I want to go to Caen," returned La Vireville simply. "I and my
little nephew here. Can you give us a passage?"
The master of the _Trois Frères_ regarded La Vireville and his
nephew. "No," he replied, with equal simplicity. "Why should I?
I'm a trading vessel, not a packet."
The petitioner came nearer and dropped his voice. "If you will
grant me the favour of a word or two in private," he said, "I will
tell you why I ask. It is for a most pressing family matter--an
affair, I may say, almost of life and death . . . and an affair
of haste."
"Come on board then," said the master-mariner briefly, and led
the way over the gang-plank to the cabin.
It was that neat little cabin with its shining brass fittings,
therefore, which witnessed the apotheosis of the Chevalier de
la Vireville as a liar. Even at the time a part of himself was
watching the other, the speaking half, with an amused wonder, as
he unfolded his tale, recounting how he was hastening, or wished
to hasten, to Caen on this most pressing family matter. He had sent
Anne-Hilarion to the other end of the cabin, and himself sat, with
the captain, at the table in the middle.
"The fact is," he said in lowered tones, after a short exordium,
"that my brother's wife has run away from him, and we have reason
to believe that she has gone to Caen."
"With her lover, I suppose," finished the sailor bluntly.
"No," said La Vireville; "that is the whole point. My brother
believes that he has not yet joined her, though on the way to do
so. Hence, citizen, my need of haste. I want to arrive at Caen
before it is too late, and to that end I am taking my brother's
little son with me to plead his father's cause, and to see if
he cannot persuade his unfortunate mother to return."
It was only because he felt sure that Anne, however willing he
might be, would inevitably make a slip if required constantly to
address him as Papa, that La Vireville had cast himself for the
part of uncle in this speedily-imagined drama. Otherwise he might
have played the part of the stricken husband rather than that of
the sympathetic brother. Indeed, there would have been an advantage
in the former rôle, for it would have spared him the captain's next
and very natural question:
"Why the deuce does not your brother go after his wife himself?"
La Vireville made a gesture, and throwing his brother from a restive
horse some seven days ago, remorselessly broke his leg.
"Where does he live, did you say?"
The émigré domiciled him distantly at Lyons, creating him at the
same time a lawyer.
"I know Lyons well," observed the mariner unexpectedly. "You are
an affectionate brother, citizen, and you have certainly made
extraordinary speed if you have come from Lyons since that leg
was broken a week ago."
This was unfortunately true, and La Vireville was forced to assign
a date a little more remote to the accident, and to say he had
made a slip of the tongue, proceeding afterwards to lay stress
on the speed which the lover also might be presumed to be using.
"Well, my friend," remarked the sailor, "speed was never a characteristic
of the _Trois Frères_. Moreover, I have a port or two of call,
Dieppe among them. I cannot for the life of me see why you should
not go to Caen by land, if you want to get there quickly. If you
could post from Lyons to St. Valéry in--how many days did you
say?--you ought to make Caen by nightfall!"
"Citizen captain," responded the harassed romancer earnestly,
"speed, after all, is not everything in this case! Secrecy is
even more important--let me explain to you how important, at this
juncture." And he developed this theme, investing his brother's
wife's lover with much money and influence, all of which he would
use without scruple to circumvent the would-be rescuer, did he know
his route. And, acutely conscious all the while of the improbability
of his story, La Vireville concluded with a moving reference to
the innocent child, about, perhaps, to lose his mother for ever,
to the sanctity of the domestic hearth in danger of violation,
and to the purity of moral principles inculcated by the glorious
Republic. But the rhetoric which, a couple of years ago, would not
have failed to move a demagogue who sent a daily score of heads to
the guillotine, appeared to be without power over a peaceable and
straightforward mariner. The orator indeed, feeling that he was
wasting his time, and preparing in addition a net which would
probably trip up his own feet, ceased at last disheartened.
His surprise was, therefore, all the greater when the master of
the _Trois Frères_ said slowly, "Very well, I will give you a
passage to Caen." He fingered his chin in a dubious sort of way,
looking, however, at his guest with a blue directness of gaze
which was anything but undecided, and which the latter could only
hope that he was supporting with sufficient firmness. "I suppose
your papers are all in order?" he added.
The crucial moment had arrived, for neither Duchâtel's papers nor
his own could very well be made to bear out the Chevalier de la
Vireville's story. But the latter laughed cheerfully. "For what
do you take me, captain?" he replied. "Do you want to see them?"
He began to thrust a hand into his breast.
"No, no! It's the business of the port officer, not mine. Too many
papers and nonsense of that kind nowadays," said the sailor, who
appeared to have conservative tendencies. "And, by the way, the
port officer has already been aboard. Well, if there is any trouble
later on, you must represent yourselves as stowaways. Down in
the afterhold, you understand, and did not come out till we had
cleared the river, and I was not going to delay by putting back
to land you."
Nothing would have suited the voyager better than to live the life
of a stowaway the whole time, especially if they were going to put
into Dieppe, so he received this suggestion warmly. The captain
then named his terms, and said he had a spare cabin which would do
for his passenger and the boy; after which he slewed round in his
chair and stared at Anne, who, kneeling on a locker, had his nose
pressed to one of the small stern windows.
"Tell the child to come here," he said. "What is his name?"
"An . . . Annibal," replied La Vireville brilliantly, feeling that
"Anne" savoured too much of the old régime, but not equal himself
to calling him consistently by a name too dissimilar. "You will
not, captain, out of humanity, mention his mother to him, nor why
we are going to Caen? Annibal!"
Anne-Hilarion looked round, startled, at this unusual appellation,
but seeing his friend's outstretched hand, understood and came.
The captain studied his tired, sleepy, dirty little face, his
tangled curls, his good but hastily put on clothes . . . and La
Vireville had the sudden wonder whether those small kerseymere
breeches that reached so nearly to his armpits bore inside the
name of an English maker, or whether they were the work of Elspeth's
fingers. Anyhow, the sailor was not likely to investigate the point.
"A little sea-air will do the child good," remarked the latter.
"And a meal, I think, as soon as we are out of harbour, as we shall
be before long. Don't you agree with me, my boy?"
("Why did I not tell Anne on no account to let fall a word of
English?" thought La Vireville to himself. "But I do not suppose
he will.")
No; for the Comte de Flavigny naturally responded to a query in
French by an answer in the same tongue. And he said simply and
politely:
"If you please, Monsieur."
"_Eh?_" ejaculated the seaman, and a gleam of speculation shot
suddenly into his blue eyes. La Vireville felt as if he were sitting
on a red-hot chair. He and the child between them had been a little
unfortunate, with the Supreme Being on the one hand and that forbidden
term of social address on the other--returning to use though it
was among the upper classes.
The captain, however, merely shook his head.
"You seem old-fashioned, my boy," he remarked drily, and, rising,
went to the door and called to the mate.
* * * * *
Some three-quarters of an hour later the _Trois Frères_ was warping
slowly out of the basin, and La Vireville, immense relief in his
heart, and the hungry Anne-Hilarion on his knee, was giving the
child, as they awaited breakfast, a further lesson in the things
that he was not to say.