“TO THE ENGLISH OFFICER IN COMMAND OF THE VICTORY’S
BOAT.”
Opening the letter, he read its contents in a low voice to William Thornton.
“Sir,—Hearing that a boat from the British Admiral’s ship was lying in the dock basin, inspired me with the hope of being rescued from the perilous situation in which, with my daughter, I am placed. I am native of England, and the widow of the late Duke de Coulancourt. My first husband, the father of my little girl, was the Honourable James Somers Arden. My anxious desire is, if possible, to get on board one of the British ships, hoping thus to be able to reach England. If, therefore, any assistance can be rendered me, I shall for ever pray for the welfare of those to whom my gratitude will be due. You may implicitly trust Monsieur Jean Plessis, the bearer of this; he can give you every information.
“Anne Coulancourt,
née De Bracy.”
“Well, William, you must do your best, and try and see this poor lady and her little girl,” said Lieutenant Cooke. “If they could manage to get on the beach to the eastward of the shipping, along which we pass to get clear of the harbour, we might readily pick them up. I do not know the locality myself, but Monsieur Plessis, I dare say, knows how to get them there. Now let us pull in for the quay, I see a number of persons assembled; and there goes a signal for us. Be very cautious, William, how you act. Get back to the boat as soon as you can; Saunders will keep a good look out for you, and haul off from the quay till he sees either you or me. Now, my lads,” added the Lieutenant, “pull in for the pier.”
On reaching the pier, they found the Commissioners and several other naval officers in full uniform, waiting to receive them. As Lieutenant Cooke leaped on shore, followed by our hero, two of the Commissioners advanced and offered many apologies for leaving them in their boat all night. The tumultuous assemblies in the town was the cause. Breakfast was prepared for them in a mansion near the dock gates, after partaking of which they would conduct Lieutenant Cooke before the constituted authorities to hear his proposals. Accordingly, they all went through the dock gates, a vast concourse of people of the very lowest grade was assembled outside, and various cries and violent vociferations saluted their ears. There were royalists and republicans, Jacobins and Girondists, all furious and excited; nevertheless, they proceeded unmolested to the house where breakfast was prepared for them; after which, accompanied by more than twenty gentlemen and officers, Lieutenant Cooke arrived at the chamber where the Commissioners sat awaiting them.
“Be cautious, and take care of yourself, William,” whispered the Lieutenant, as the midshipman dropped into the rear without being particularly noticed, for the crowd rushed eagerly after Lieutenant Cooke, and his escort, Thornton, walked quietly on, attired in a plain jacket and trousers, without any marks of a naval uniform on them; his dirk he left in the boat purposely, but he carried a brace of small pistols in his pockets.
As the crowd rushed on, William Thornton found himself proceeding up a narrow street, when he suddenly felt a hand laid upon his arm. The man who had touched him passed on, but turning round, looked him in the face with a peculiar expression on his features.
“That is our friend of last night,” thought the midshipman, and he followed him at a little distance. The man presently turned down a deserted side street, for almost the entire population of the town were assembled before the hall where the Committee-General sat; an intense state of excitement existing, for it was then known that General Castenau, the fierce Republican General, was before Marseilles, and this created a fearful panic amongst the royalists, and a source of fiend-like rejoicing with the bloodthirsty Republicans. Following the stranger through several bye-streets, he suddenly dived beneath an arch, making a sign to our hero to be quick after him. William Thornton did not delay, and passing under the arch he found himself in a very small court, with his guide standing before the door of an apparently deserted house.
“This is fortunate, monsieur,” said the man, “the streets, you see, are totally deserted; no one, I think, saw us enter this court.”