Part 17 (1/2)

But the young squire was in no fit mood to be informed. The long, swinging motion and the heat of the sun had done their work, and he lay p.r.o.ne on the deck in the miseries of sea-sickness. Knowing that any attempt at consolation would only aggravate the malady, the master-bowman turned away, and, leaning against the low bulwarks, gazed intently towards the still invisible French coast.

Late in the afternoon the grey cliffs of La Hogue and the dark outline of the Isle of Aurigny were sighted; but just before sundown the wind died utterly away, leaving the little craft wallowing heavily in the long swell, her sail flapping idly against the mast.

The sky, hitherto clear and cloudless, was now overcast, and away towards the southward a succession of flashes of lightning betokened an approaching storm.

Even Pierre de la Corbiere, bold fisherman as he was, looked anxious, for the vessel was now beginning to feel the influence of the dreadful Race of Alderney, and, with a lack of wind and a dark night to boot, the terrors of the Race were considerably magnified.

About midnight they were in the thick of it. A slight breeze had sprung up, but barely sufficient to give the boat steerage-way. All around were tremendous broken waves, and, although Pierre stood gripping the tiller in an endeavour to avoid the heaviest breakers, the boat was urged onwards through the Race at the rate that a horse would trot, her mast threatening to snap under the irregular action of the vicious cross seas.

Throughout the tumult Raymond lay like a log, utterly unmindful of the danger, his illness having completely overcome him. His father took the precaution to lash him to the mast, and throughout that fearful night Redward remained by his side, making endless vows to the saints, which he heartily meant to fulfil should they ever again reach dry land.

Fortunately the threatened storm pa.s.sed away, and as daylight broke _Les Trois Freres_ was beyond the influence of the Race, Guernsey and its attendant islands, Sark and Herm, being plainly visible.

With a skill acquired by long years of experience, the Guernseyman steered his craft between the islands, taking advantage of every current that would help to bear them south, and, before the sun was high, the Island of Jersey was abeam. The waters, too, were dotted with the sails of fis.h.i.+ng boats, forming a pleasing contrast to the dreary waste of water they had traversed on the previous day.

Worn out and faint from the effect of his long fast, Raymond sat up and looked around, as if unable to bring himself to recall his surroundings; but after a scanty meal of dry bread and water, he felt the giddiness leave him, and with an effort he stood on his feet, gripping his father tightly for fear of falling.

”Where are we?” he asked dejectedly.

”Nearly there,” replied Redward. ”A sailorman thou'lt be some day, but beshrew me if thou lookest like one now! An hour ash.o.r.e will make all the difference; but rest awhile, my son, for there's work enow ere long for both of us.”

Late in the afternoon _Les Trois Freres_ entered St. Brieuc Bay, the high ground showing up distinctly, while far away they could discern the lofty Bretagne hills, that lay between them and their destination; and, just as the sun was sinking low behind the Brittany coast, the little craft brought up under the shadow of the gloomy castle of Cesson.

Redward and the master conferred long and anxiously on the subject of how to gain the sh.o.r.e without observation, but at length a light dawned upon the dull mind of the Guernseyman.

”Thou hast said well,” he remarked. ”Of a truth we cannot make sure whether they of St. Brieuc are for the Countess of Montfort or against her. And none of us wishes to put his head into the wolf's mouth. But I know of a man--a foster-brother of mine--at whose house ye could stay until the way is clear for ye to journey across country. He dwells at Legue, but a mile from St. Brieuc, and I will go ash.o.r.e and converse with him.”

Silently and in the now black night the little skiff was lowered, and Pierre de la Corbiere was rowed ash.o.r.e by two of his men.

For nearly two hours Redward and the young squire remained on board, anxiously listening for the sound of oars, till at length the little boat shot noiselessly alongside, and the master sprang upon the deck.

”'Tis easily done, though they of Blois hold the town,” he exclaimed breathlessly. ”Raoul de Rohein, of whom I spoke, is willing to receive you, for which service he demands five sols. He is a barber and chirurgeon, and lives in the Rue Mortbec. Hasten, ere it be light, for we must leave on top o' the tide.”

Once more the skiff, deeply laden, started for the sh.o.r.e. Raymond, in his light armour, had discarded his surcoat with the conspicuous cross of St. George, Redward in his harness could hardly be distinguished from a Breton, and could rely upon his knowledge of the French tongue to pa.s.s for a Gascon, or a Burgundian, as occasion served. With them went Pierre de la Corbiere and a sailor, both of whom rowed while the squire and his father sat in the stern-sheets.

Half-an-hour's steady pulling and the skiff grounded on the sandy sh.o.r.e. Silently the three disembarked, leaving the seaman to look after the boat, and quickly they made their way towards the house of refuge.

Suddenly the master stopped. ”_Mon Dieu_,” he exclaimed, ”_c'est les gardes!_”

Coming straight towards them was a body of halberdiers, accompanied by an officer. Retreat, without arousing suspicion, was impossible; but in a few words the ever-resourceful Redward had devised a plan.

Raymond lay down in the road, his father lifted him by the shoulders while Pierre took him by the feet, and, staggering under their heavy burden, they advanced to meet the watch.

”_Halte! Qui v'la?_” demanded the officer, flas.h.i.+ng a lantern upon the trio.

”'Tis le Sieur d'Erqui, Monsieur,” replied the Guernseyman, speaking in a patois which is common between the Bretons and the Channel Islanders. ”He has been roystering and brawling, and has been sore hurt.”

”One cannot put old heads on young shoulders,” remarked the officer, with a deprecating shrug. ”What folly hash he been at?”

”I cannot say, monsieur.”