Part 22 (1/2)

”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 a.s.surance 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 cl.u.s.tering 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 fis.h.i.+ng 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 s.h.i.+p, in which he works such havoc among the English.”

”To be sure, monsieur,” said the man, ”that is an English prize.

His own s.h.i.+p 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 s.h.i.+ps, 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 c.o.c.ked 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 wars.h.i.+ps 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 pa.s.sage 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 fis.h.i.+ng 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--”