He touched bottom. He was on Perce sands. The blanket on his head was scarcely wetted. He wrung the water out of his clothes, and ran softly up the shore. Suddenly he was met by a cry of Qui va la! and he stopped short at the point of Elie Mattingley’s bayonet. “Hush!” said Ranulph, and gave his name.
Mattingley nearly dropped his musket in surprise. He soon knew the tale of Ranulph’s misfortunes, but he had not yet been told of his present plans when there came a quick footstep, and Carterette was at her father’s side. Unlike Mattingley, she did drop her musket at the sight of Ranulph. Her lips opened, but at first she could not speak—this was more than she had ever dared hope for, since those dark days in Jersey. Ranulph here! She pressed her hands to her heart to stop its throbbing.
Presently she was trembling with excitement at the story of how Ranulph had been pressed at St. Malo, and, all that came after until this very day.
“Go along with Carterette,” said Mattingley. “Alixandre is at the house; he’ll help you away into the woods.”
As Ranulph hurried away with Carterette, he told her his design. Suddenly she stopped short, “Ranulph Delagarde,” she said vehemently, “you can’t climb Perch Rock. No one has ever done it, and you must not try. Oh, I know you are a great man, but you mustn’t think you can do this. You will be safe where we shall hide you. You shall not climb the rock-ah no, ba su!”
He pointed towards the Post. “They wouldn’t leave a stick standing there if you hid me. No, I’m going to the top of the rock.”
“Man doux terrible!” she said in sheer bewilderment, and then was suddenly inspired. At last her time had come.
“Pardingue,” she said, clutching his arm, “if you go to the top of Perch Rock, so will I!”
In spite of his anxiety he almost laughed.
“But see—but see,” he said, and his voice dropped; “you couldn’t stay up there with me all alone, garcon Carterette. And Richambeau would be firing on you too!”