as the bird flies to the haven of Rozel. The high, pinkish sands of Hatainville were behind them; the treacherous Taillepied rocks lay to the north, and a sweet sea before. Nothing could have seemed fairer and more hopeful. But a few old fishermen on shore at Carteret shook their heads dubiously, and at Port Bail, some miles below, a disabled naval officer, watching through a glass, rasped out, “Criminals or fools!” But he shrugged his shoulders, for if they were criminals he was sure they would expiate their crimes this night, and if they were fools—he had no pity for fools.
But Buonespoir knew his danger. Truth is, he had chosen this night because they would be safest from pursuit, because no sensible seafaring man, were he king’s officer or another, would venture forth upon the impish Channel save to court disaster. Pirate and soldier in priest’s garb had frankly taken the chances.
With a fair wind they might, with all canvas set—mainsail, foresail, jib, and foretopsail—make Rozel Bay within two hours and a quarter. All seemed well for a brief half-hour. Then, even as the passage between the Marmotier and the Ecréhos opened out, the wind suddenly shifted from the northeast to the southwest and a squall came hurrying on them—a few moments too soon; for, had they been clear of the Ecréhos, clear of the Taillepieds, Felée Bank, and the Écrivière, they could have stood out towards the north in a more open sea.
Yet there was one thing in their favor: the tide was now running hard from the northwest, so fighting for them while the wind was against them. Their only safety lay in getting beyond the Ecréhos. If they attempted to run in to the Marmotier for safety, they would presently be at the mercy of the French. To trust their doubtful fortunes and bear on was the only way. The tide was running fast. They gave the mainsail to the wind still more, and bore on towards the passage. At last, as they were opening on it, the wind suddenly veered full northeast. The sails flapped, the boat seemed to hover for a moment, and then a wave swept her towards the rocks. Buonespoir put the helm hard over, she went about, and they close-hauled her as she trembled towards the rocky opening.
This was the critical instant. A heavy sea was running, the gale was blowing hard from the northeast, and under the close-hauled sail the Belle Suzanne was lying over dangerously. But the tide, too, was running hard from the south, fighting the wind, and at the moment when all seemed terribly uncertain swept them past the opening and into the swift-running channel, where the indraught sucked them through to the more open water beyond.
Although the Belle Suzanne was in more open water now, the danger was not over. Ahead lay a treacherous sea, around them roaring winds, and the perilous coast of Jersey beyond all.
“Do you think we shall land?” quietly asked De la Forêt, nodding towards the Jersey coast.
“As many chances ’gainst it as for it, m’sieu’,” said Buonespoir, turning his face to the north, for the wind had veered again to northeast, and he feared its passing to the northwest, giving them a head-wind and a swooping sea.
Night came down, but with a clear sky and a bright moon, the wind, however, not abating. The next three hours were spent in tacking, in beating towards the Jersey coast under seas which almost swamped them. They were standing off about a mile from the island, and could see lighted fires and groups of people upon the shore, when suddenly a gale came out from the southwest, the wind having again shifted. With an oath Buonespoir put the helm hard over, the Belle Suzanne came about quickly, but as the gale struck her the mast snapped like a pencil, she heeled over, and the two adventurers were engulfed in the waves.
A cry of dismay went up from the watchers on the shore. They turned with a half-conscious sympathy towards Angèle, for her story was known by all, and in her face they read her mortal fear, though she made no cry, but only clasped her hands in agony. Her heart told her that yonder Michel de la Forêt was fighting for his life. For an instant only she stood, the terror of death in her eyes, then she turned to the excited fishermen near.
“Men, oh men!” she cried, “will you not save them? Will no one come with me?”
Some shook their heads sullenly, others appeared uncertain, but their wives and children clung to them, and none stirred. Looking round helplessly, Angèle saw the tall figure of the Seigneur of Rozel. He had been watching the scene for some time. Now he came quickly to her.
“Is it the very man?” he asked her, jerking a finger towards the struggling figures in the sea.
“Yes, oh yes,” she replied, nodding her head, piteously. “God tells my heart it is.” Her father drew near and interposed.
“ ‘LET US KNEEL AND PRAY FOR TWO DYING MEN’ ”
“Let us kneel and pray for two dying men,” said he, and straightway knelt upon the sand.
“By St. Martin, we’ve better medicine than that, apothecary!” said Lemprière of Rozel, loudly, and, turning round, summoned two serving-men. “Launch my strong boat,” he added. “We will pick these gentlemen from the brine or know the end of it all.”
The men hurried gloomily to the long boat, ran her down to the shore and into the surf.
“You are going—you are going to save him, dear seigneur?” asked the girl, tremulously.
“To save him—that’s to be seen, mistress,” answered Lemprière, and advanced to the fishermen. By dint of hard words and as hearty encouragement and promises, he got a half-dozen strong sailors to man the boat.
A moment after, they were all in. At a motion from the seigneur the boat was shot out into the surf, and a cheer from the shore gave heart to De la Forêt and Buonespoir, who were being driven upon the rocks.
[Pg 29]
[Pg 30]
The Jerseymen rowed gallantly, and the seigneur, to give them heart, promised a shilling, a capon, and a gallon of beer to each if the rescue was made. Again and again the two men seemed to sink beneath the sea, and again and again they came to the surface and battled further, torn, battered, and bloody, but not beaten. Cries of, “We’re coming, gentles, we’re coming!” from the Seigneur of Rozel came ringing through the surf to the dulled ears of the drowning men, and they struggled on.
There never was a more gallant rescue. Almost at their last gasp the two were rescued.
“Mistress Aubert sends you welcome, sir, if you be Michel de la Forêt,” said Lemprière of Rozel, and offered the fugitive his horn of liquor as he lay blown and beaten in the boat.
“I am he,” De la Forêt answered. “I owe you my life, monsieur,” he added.
Lemprière laughed. “You owe it to the lady; and I doubt you can properly pay the debt,” he answered, with a toss of the head; for had not the lady refused him, the Seigneur of Rozel, six feet six in height, and all else in proportion, while this gentleman was scarce six feet.
“We can have no quarrel upon the point,” answered De la Forêt, reaching out his hand; “you have at least done tough work for her, and if I cannot pay in gold I can in kind. It was a generous deed, and it has made a friend forever of Michel de la Forêt.”
“Raoul Lemprière of Rozel they call me, Michel de la Forêt, and, by Rollo the Duke, but I’ll take your word in the way of friendship, as the lady yonder takes it for riper fruit! Though, faith, ’tis fruit of a short summer, to my thinking.”
All this while Buonespoir the pirate, his face covered with blood, had been swearing by the little finger of St. Peter that each Jerseyman there should have the half of a keg of rum. He went so far in gratitude as to offer the price of ten sheep which he had once secretly raided from the Seigneur of Rozel and sold in France, for which he had been seized on his later return to the island and had escaped without punishment.
Hearing, Lemprière of Rozel roared at him in anger: “Durst speak to me! For every fleece you thieved I’ll have you flayed with bowstrings if ever I sight your face within my boundaries.”