“’Tis I, Mabel,” said the voice of Julia.
Mabel ran and opened the door; Julia was dressed.
“Mon Dieu!” said Mademoiselle Plessis, “what firing down at the creek; my father has been writing this half-hour. Sergeant Perrin has gone down to the sea-shore, he could not resist; he has left only two men on guard. My father is sure they will either cut out the ships or burn them; if they burn them, we shall see the glare in the heavens. My father is going to an old fisherman, who would risk his life for him, to get him to take out a letter and a packet of important papers to give Lieutenant Thornton, in which he has stated his plan of escape, so that the lieutenant may co-operate if practicable. The old fisherman will steal out in his boat, and, if possible, deliver the packet; if not, he will bring it safe back. To-morrow my father will make you fully acquainted with what he has done. He has gone out by a door, left unguarded by the departure of the men, and will bring us back word how the contest ends.”
It was, in truth, a night of deep anxiety to all; and not till long after the firing had ceased did any of the inhabitants of the château retire to rest. Monsieur Plessis, however, returned before Sergeant Perrin.
In the morning, as the family re-assembled at breakfast, jaded with the watching and anxiety of the past night, Julia informed the mother and daughter that the Vengeance and the brig had been both carried off by the English, after a desperate resistance. That there were nine or ten killed, on board and on shore, of the crew of the Vengeance, and amongst the soldiers. Captain Gaudet was not hurt, but furious and frantic at the loss of the vessel, which he imputed to the conduct of the soldiers, and the cowardice of the captain of the brig—attempting to run out instead of anchoring his vessel with her broadside to the entrance, and firing into the boats as they came up. “My father heard that one or two of the English had been killed, and some wounded, but no officer hurt; that the fisherman had delivered his letter and the packet into the hands of Lieutenant Thornton himself, who bade him say all were well.”
A glow spread over the pale cheek of Mabel at this intelligence, though she deeply mourned the loss of life.
“Where is your father, Julia?” demanded Madame Coulancourt, anxiously.
“He and my mother went early in the calash to Havre. He expects his messenger to-day from Paris by the mail-post, and my mother went with him to make some necessary arrangements. They will be back in the evening, and the day after to-morrow he thinks we may leave Coulancourt.”
“God grant it!” said the mother.
“What did Sergeant Perrin do down at the creek last night, did you hear him speak about it, Julia?”