Sir Isumbras at the Ford

by D. K. Broster

They waded through red blude to the knee;

For a' the blude that's shed on the earth

Rins thro' the springs o' that countrie."

Thomas the Rhymer.

CHAPTER XXII
"To Noroway, To Noroway"

(1)

From the quarterdeck of His Britannic Majesty's frigate Pomone, which had recently come to anchor in the wide and placid bay of Quiberon, Mr. Francis Tollemache gazed with interest on that portion of the southern coast of Brittany which lay before him. The June evening was calm and foggy, but not sufficiently so as to obscure the nearer land. In front of the observer was the low, sandy shore of Carnac; to the right the deeply indented coast, scarcely seen, broke into inlets and islands till, passing the narrow mouth of that surprising inland sea, the Morbihan, which gave its name to the department, it swept round into the peninsula of Rhuis. But on Mr. Tollemache's left hand, much nearer, curved the long, thin, sickle-blade of the peninsula of Quiberon, with its tiny villages, its meagre stone-walled fields, and its abundant windmills. About two-thirds of the way up, at the narrowest part of the blade, the threatening mass of Fort Penthièvre looked out on the one side over the tranquil waters of the bay, on the other over the tormented open sea, the 'mer sauvage,' that broke against the very rocks on which the fortress was built. And to this long natural breakwater was due the shelter of that ample beach at Carnac, indeed the spacious harbourage of the bay itself, where now the present squadron and its transports rode in comfort this twenty-fifth of June.

For the long-talked-of Government expedition had really sailed, and the surmise made by Mr. Tollemache to the Marquis de Flavigny that afternoon in St. James's Park had proved entirely correct. Not only did his ship, the Pomone, form part of the convoying force, but she flew the flag of the commodore himself, that sterling sailor and gentleman, Sir John Borlase Warren. Under his command there had left Southampton on the sixteenth of the month a squadron comprising two seventy-fours, the Thunderer and the Robust, and seven vessels of lesser armament, which flotilla had the task of convoying transports containing three thousand five hundred French Royalists, all kinds of stores and uniforms, muskets to the number of twenty-seven thousand, and ammunition to match. And it was in vain that the Brest fleet, under Villaret-Joyeuse, had tried to cut them off from the coast of France.

As Mr. Tollemache, his telescope under his arm, thus gazed at their destination—for he understood that the landing, which the British would cover, but in which they would not participate, was to take place on the easy sands of Carnac—it occurred to him, tolerably free though he was from the curse of imagination, that the unfortunate devils of Frenchies whom they were convoying must feel rather queerish at seeing their native shores again. They were in fact crowded now on the decks of the transports, gazing at the coast through the mist and the failing daylight. M. de Flavigny, for instance, that little boy's father, he was probably there, doing the same, poor beggar . . . just like the two leaders of the expedition here on the quarterdeck of the flagship. Out of the corner of his eye the young lieutenant could see them, talking to the commodore; the strutting, self-important, irascible little man in the uniform of the troops in English pay, the Comte d'Hervilly, and the would-be organiser of the Chouannerie, the Comte de Puisaye, tall, awkward, and enigmatic. From what Francis Tollemache had seen of these individuals during the voyage he had not formed a very high opinion of their capacity. There did not seem to be much harmony between them either, and their authority was strangely divided, for d'Hervilly, who held an English commission, was supposed to be in command when the troops were at sea, and Puisaye when they were landed. For this extraordinary arrangement Mr. Tollemache had heard that My Lords of the Admiralty were to blame, and he thought the plan very foolish.

He was to be confirmed in this opinion. That night it fell to him, as officer of the watch, to witness the arrival up the side of the Pomone, from a tiny boat, of two Chouan chiefs, the Chevalier de Tinténiac and the Comte du Boisberthelot, gentlemen of title arrayed in dirty Breton costumes. As a matter of fact the young man had seen them before, for they had boarded the frigate at Southampton before she sailed, but he hardly recognised them now. They brought, so he later understood, good accounts of the disposition of the countryside, where all the peasantry were ready to rise, undertook to 'sweep' the coast, and strongly pressed an immediate disembarkation. And immediately the fruits of the divided command were made manifest: the Comte de Puisaye and Sir John Warren were for following this advice, but, since d'Hervilly objected, they had to give way to the needless precaution of a reconnaissance, on which he insisted. So next morning, at daybreak, the young sailor saw him embark in a cutter and make a majestic tour of the bay—a proceeding which had no effect save that of delaying the landing for twenty-four hours.