“I am a stranger, comrade,” I replied composedly. “I only arrived in Bastia late last night, after effecting my escape from the British fleet two hours previously. Two of the fishermen belonging to this place—Jean Leferrier and Pierre Cousin by name—venturing too far off shore last night, were pounced upon and made prisoners by a boat belonging to the fleet. They were placed in irons, and confined between the same two guns as myself, and learning that I intended trying to escape, they directed me how to find my way on shore, and how to behave when here; giving me also a note to convey to Madame Leferrier. I am now on my way to the house of Monsieur le Maire to report myself.”
“Good!” exclaimed my unwelcome companion; “I will accompany you there, and show you the house, since you are a stranger.”
I did not, of course, dare to manifest any objection to such a proposal, or I should instantly have been made a prisoner, if indeed I might not consider myself in reality one already.
I accordingly acquiesced in the most cheerful manner I could assume; and we trudged on together, I describing, in response to the corporal’s questioning, the details of my assumed escape.
Just as I had finished my recital, we arrived at the corner of a street, and my companion stopped.
“This,” said he, “is the street in which Monsieur le Maire resides. But before we go further, may I ask, comrade, what you are going to do with those fish in your basket?” casting at the same time a hungry glance over my shoulder.
“Well,” said I, “they really belong to poor Jean Leferrier and his mate; and I intended asking Monsieur le Maire to accept one or two of the finest of them, after which I should sell the remainder, and hand over the proceeds to Jean’s mother, who I find depended entirely upon her son for house, food, and clothing. But I suppose one or two more or less will not make much difference to the good dame, especially,”—a bright idea striking me—“as I intend going out to-night and trying my luck; so if you would like a bit of fish for dinner and will accept one or two, make your choice, comrade; you have been very kind in guiding me thus far, and I am sure you are heartily welcome.”
I was about to unsling the basket from my shoulders, as I spoke, but he hastily stopped me.
“You are a good fellow, mon ami,” said he, “and I accept your offer. But not here—it would never do for me to be seen here in public accepting such a present; it would be sure to get to our general’s ears, and I should be simply flogged for my presumption. Why, if you had not told me yourself that you are a stranger, I should have known it at once, from your ignorance of the value of the contents of your basket. Why, we are closely besieged, mon cher; provisions are growing scarce, and your fish are worth—well—almost their weight in silver. Come this way; never mind Monsieur le Maire, he would only send you on to the general’s quarters to report yourself there; so you may as well save your intended present to him—or, better still, hand it to the general’s cook, and that will insure you from all further trouble in the future, especially if you happen to make a point of leaving a little bit of fish at the general’s whenever you happen to be passing that way. Ah! here we are at the barracks!”
We turned in, as he spoke, through a pair of large, high folding gates of wood, thickly studded along the top with sharp iron spikes, and I found myself in the barrack square, a large open space, surrounded on three sides by buildings, and on the fourth—that side which abutted on the street—by a wall about twenty feet high.