The Constable watched the Guernsey bark hoist her sails, and waited till she was well on her way down towards the harbour's mouth; then he returned slowly towards his quarters.
Glancing at the packet, he deciphered with difficulty the superscription, written in a scrawling hand: "To ye richt worshippefulle Ladye Audrey Scarsdale."
"Heaven bless the lad," he mused. "Certes I am of a mind to forward this missive whether he returns or not!"
[CHAPTER XI]
THE CHIRURGEON OF LÉGUÉ
WITH a powerful following wind, Les Trois Frères made a rapid passage down the harbour, and, before Raymond fully realised the fact, the little vessel was lifting to the gentle heave of the Channel.
By midday the chalk cliffs of the Isle of Wight were all that was visible of the shores of England, and, though a careful watch was kept for hostile ships, not a sail was to be seen on the wide expanse of water.
The master, Pierre de la Corbière, was a huge-limbed, swarthy Guernseyman, who spoke in a guttural patois that was almost unintelligible to the young squire, though Redward, to whom most of the dialects of France were familiar, could make himself understood with comparative ease.
Nine men and a boy composed the crew, a large one for so small a craft; but the perils of war, added to the dangers of the sea, were a sufficient excuse for their numbers. Each man, picturesquely clothed and wearing silver earrings, was a trained pilot, and most of them had served in that capacity on board the ships that had on past occasions taken the King and his troops to France and Flanders. All of them carried short daggers or knives in their belts, while a large chest, lashed to ringbolts in the deck, contained a good supply of swords and axes.
"If this wind lasts," remarked the master, "we shall sight Cap de la Hogue within a couple of hours. Whither would ye land, good sir?"
"Nay, I know not," replied Redward. "And, moreover, I care not, so long as it be not too close to the town."