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 Lemprière. “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 favor. 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 chantey, 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!