LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

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 Foret, 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 north-east, and he feared its passing to the north-west, 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 Angele, 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 Foret 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, Angele 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,” said he, and straightway knelt upon the sand.

      “By St. Martin, we’ve better medicine than that, apothecary!” said Lempriere 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 Lempriere, 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 Foret and Buonespoir, who were being driven upon the rocks.

      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 Foret,” said Lempriere of Rozel, and offered the fugitive his horn of liquor as he lay blown and beaten in the boat.

      “I am he,” De la Foret answered. “I owe you my life, Monsieur,” he added.

      Lempriere 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 Foret, 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 for ever of Michel de la Foret.”

      “Raoul Lempriere of Rozel they call me, Michel de la Foret, 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, Lempriere of Rozel roared at him in anger: “Durst speak to me! For every fleece you thieved I’ll have you flayed with bow-strings if ever I sight your face within my boundaries.”

      “Then I’ll fetch and carry no more for M’sieu’ of Rozel,” said Buonespoir, in an offended tone, but grinning under his reddish beard.

      “When didst fetch and carry for me, varlet?” Lempriere roared again.

      “When the Seigneur of Rozel fell from his horse, overslung with sack, the night of the royal Duke’s visit, and the footpads were on him, I carried him on my back to the lodge of Rozel Manor. The footpads had scores to settle with the great Rozel.”

      For a moment the Seigneur stared, then roared again, but this time with laughter.

      “By the devil and Rollo, I have sworn to this hour that there was no man in the isle could have carried me on his shoulders. And I was right, for Jersiais you’re none, neither by adoption nor grace, but a citizen of the sea.”

      He laughed again as a wave swept over them, drenching them, and a sudden squall of wind came out of the north. “There’s no better head in the isle than mine for measurement and thinking, and I swore no man under eighteen stone could carry me, and I am twenty-five—I take you to be nineteen stone, eh?”

      “Nineteen, less two ounces,” grinned Buonespoir.

      “I’ll laugh De Carteret of St. Ouen’s out of his stockings over this,” answered Lempriere. “Trust me for knowing weights and measures! Look you, varlet, thy sins be forgiven thee. I care not about the fleeces, if there be no more stealing. St. Ouen’s has no head—I said no one man in Jersey could have done it—I’m heavier by three stone than any man in the island.” Thereafter there was little speaking among them, for the danger was greater as they neared the shore. The wind and the sea were against them; the tide, however, was in their favour. Others besides M. Aubert offered up prayers for the safe-landing of the rescued and rescuers. Presently an ancient fisherman broke out into a rude sailor’s chanty, and every voice, even those of the two Huguenots, took it up:

      “When the Four Winds, the Wrestlers, strive with the Sun,

       When the Sun is slain in the dark;

       When the stars burn out, and the night cries

       To the blind sea-reapers, and they rise,

       And the water-ways are stark—

       God save us when the reapers reap!

       When the ships sweep in with the tide to the shore,

       And the little white boats return no more;

       When the reapers reap, Lord give Thy sailors sleep,

       If Thou cast

Скачать книгу