THE ADVENTURES OF A NIGHT

"Running forward, stepped into the water."

"That was a close shave," he said to the cockswain; "if I had not swam out you would never have been able to take me off."

"We made them out, sir, and thinking, I suppose, that you could not get off nohow while they were there, Mr. Harding had given the word to go about, when we saw you run out and take to the water. We were not long in getting the boat down and starting, you may be sure."

"What is the news, Peter?" Harding asked, as he stepped on to the deck.

"Just what I expected, Harding. The villains have murdered the baron and taken the ladies prisoners, and they are going to march with them to Marseilles this afternoon. The scoundrels were drinking heavily, and I don't think they will move until five o'clock, then I expect there will be a good many left behind. We will stand out to sea now. We daren't land till dusk, for you may be sure those soldiers who were firing at me will be watching us. I expect they don't know what to make of it. No doubt they have had their eye on the schooner for the last week, and I should think that they have put us down as a privateer from Marseilles or Toulon. I hope they will think that I was one of the crew who had been landed to see what was going on at the château, though it will puzzle them, why in that case I risked being shot.

"Yes, that is certain to rouse their suspicions."

"Well, we will keep right out, and run in after it gets dark, seven or eight miles along the coast land, and takepost on the road from the château to Marseilles. As I have ridden over it two or three times I know it pretty well, and there is one point where it comes within a mile of the sea. It is pretty well dark by seven o'clock, and even if they start at five—and I don't think that there is much chance of that—we shall be there before they come along, for they won't be able to go more than two and a half, or at most three miles, an hour."

"I wish I could go with you, Peter!"

"I wish you could, but you see you must remain on board. It would never do to leave the ship without an officer; besides, I may want your guns to cover our retreat. I have no fear of being able to rescue the ladies by a sudden attack, but the brutes will no doubt follow us up closely. I shall leave the boats when a good mile off shore; but you must come in as close as you can. Keep the lead going, and anchor with only a foot or two of water under your keel; what tide there is will be rising. When we get to the edge of the steep ground going down to the beach I shall send half the men down with the ladies to get into the boats, and to stand ready to push them off. I will take a blue light with me, and will fire it, and drop it as soon as we make our rush down. Then you will be able to make them out, and open with grape over our heads. Perhaps the first shot or two had better be with ball, grape are apt to scatter too much; but as soon as we are fairly away from the shore you can give them grape."

"How many men will you take with you?"

"Thirty; it was for that that I got the extra ten hands from the captain. There are three or four hundred of them, and about half their number have got muskets. I don't expect that they will be in a condition to shoot very straight; but half-drunk as most of them will be, they may try to rush us, and thirty men won't be any too many."

The men were presently told off for the work, and as soon as they learned that it was to be a landing party theyset to cleaning muskets and pistols, and getting a sharper edge put on their cutlasses. The general idea was that they were going to storm a battery, and perhaps cut out some craft of which the captain might have heard when he was ashore. Every hand was required, and the cook and steward were both to go with the landing party, and, with two seamen, were to act as boat-keepers when the others landed, and in this way Harding would have ten men all capable of working the guns left with him. When theAlert'shead was again turned towards shore, Peter called the men aft.

"Now, lads," he said, "you are going on an expedition which as British sailors you will, I know, like. The ruffians from Marseilles have burned that château you saw in flames, they have murdered its owner, and they are taking back with them his wife and two daughters, and of a certainty these will share the fate that has befallen so many other ladies of noble families. Now, my men, my object in going ashore is to rescue these three ladies from the hands of these blood-stained villains. There are something like three hundred of these fellows; but as the best part of them will be more or less drunk, I don't think the odds are too great for you, especially as we shall have the advantage of a surprise, and shall be able to carry off the ladies before they can rally; but we may expect some hard fighting on our way back.

"The spot where we shall attack them will be about a mile from the shore, and no doubt they will try pretty hard to arrest our progress. We must keep together without straggling, loading as we retire, and turning and giving them a volley from time to time. If they make a rush upon us, sling your muskets behind your backs, and go at them with cutlass and pistol. The great thing will be to ensure that we do not miss our way as we come back. We will take eight lanterns with us, and put one down at each gate or opening as we go along, so that we shall onlyhave to follow the line of lights. On our return, Mr. Jamieson, you with four men will act as a special guard to the ladies; you will keep some twenty yards ahead of us as we fall back, halting when we halt, and closing up to us if they get between us and the shore.

"I hope that they won't do this; they will be taken so much by surprise that we shall get a considerable start before they can get under way to pursue us, and as, of course, we shall go at the double, we may be half-way before they will be near enough to make any serious attack on us. We shall take six stretchers with us; the ladies will be utterly worn out after the fatigues of such a terrible day, and possibly one or all of them will need to be carried. At any rate, we shall want stretchers in case any are wounded; we must not allow any one to fall alive into the hands of these bloodthirsty scoundrels. Now, my lads, you know what you have got to do, and how you have to do it. I know that there is not one of you who will not be glad to have a chance at once of saving the lives of these ladies, and of striking a blow at the men who have been murdering their fellow-countrymen and women by thousands. As to you who remain on board ship, you will have your share in the affair: it will be your duty to cover us with the fire of the guns as we come down to the boats, and it may possibly be that one of the gunboats from Marseilles will come along while we are away, and in that case you will have harder work than we shall."

A cheer broke from the whole of the men, for those who had before been greatly disappointed that they were not to take part in the expedition, were satisfied now that they learned that they would not be altogether idle. Fortunately there was a haze on the water as the sun went down, and they were therefore able to approach the shore earlier than Peter had expected, and sounding carefully as they went, they dropped anchor some two hundred yards from the shore an hour after sunset. The greaterpart of the sails had already been lowered, but had not been stowed, so that they could be hoisted at the shortest notice; the boats had been lowered, in order not only to save time, but because the sound of the tackle might be heard by any one on shore.

"Take your places quietly in the boats," Peter said. "Let the men told off to carry the lanterns and stretchers get in first." Then when all the men had taken their places in the boat, he turned to his comrade—

"Remember, Harding, if the gunboat should unfortunately come along, you must fight at anchor. You have got a good stock of hand-grenades if they should try and board you by boats; and as they won't know how weak your crew is, it will be a case of big guns for some time. If the worst comes to the worst, and should they lay her alongside and board you, we shall do our best to recapture you. The wind is very light now, and even if they tried to tow you off, we should be able to overtake you. I hope it won't come to that, but it is just as well to arrange for all contingencies. Don't show a light on any account unless you find that you are getting the worst of it, then hang one over the stern in order that we may be able to follow when they get up sail."

So saying, he stepped down the accommodation ladder, and took his place in the stern-sheets of the largest boat.

"Row on," he said, "but be as quiet as you can." The oars had all been muffled, and the men rowed so silently that scarce a sound was heard. "Easy all," Peter ordered when they were within twenty yards of shore, "the way will carry us in. Keep a sharp look-out in the bow, there may be rocks sticking up anywhere; we don't know what the coast is like." No obstacles were met with, and the boats ran quietly on to the sand.

"Keep them some fifty yards off," Peter said to the four men who were to remain, two in each boat. "If you hear any one coming along the shore, lie down,and don't make any answer if they hail you. Row nearer in as soon as you hear us coming, but don't come in close till we run down; they will know that we must have come from boats, and some of them may run on ahead to capture them before we arrive."

"Open the cover a little way to look at the compass."

The ground rose somewhat steeply for fifty yards. On reaching the level a lantern was placed there, then the men formed fours and marched along. Peter, who carried with him a compass, went ahead. The lanterns were all in canvas covers to prevent their being seen until wanted, and a man carrying one walked by the side of Peter, so that he could occasionally open the cover a little way to look at the compass. From time to time the cover was removed from a lantern, and it was left on the ground. After twenty minutes' walking they arrived at the road. Therewas no wall or hedge, and they kept along it until they came to a small copse. It was an hour before any sound was heard, and Peter began to get very anxious lest the "reds" should have gone past before he arrived. At last far away along the road they saw a dull glow, and in another ten minutes made out a number of lights.

"They have got torches and lanterns," he said to Jamieson, who was standing next to him. "Now, my lads, all crouch or kneel down as you like. You have got your muskets slung behind you?"

"Ay, ay, sir," ran along the line.

"Remember not a shot is to be fired until the ladies are in our hands. I shall pass the word along quietly. Get through the bushes as noiselessly as you can. When I say 'Now' make a rush at them, and use your cutlasses as freely as you like. The moment Jamieson and his party have surrounded the ladies I will fire a pistol; you might not hear my voice in the din. The moment you hear it, cease your attack, run back to the corner of this copse, and as soon as Jamieson with the ladies has got ahead of you, make straight for the lantern. Luckily we put the last one on a big stone, and we can just see it from here. Keep in good order, and run in a double line."

Peter remained on his feet, a bush in front of him being sufficiently high to conceal him altogether. There was a roar of voices as the "reds" came along. They could hardly be said to be singing, but each was howling or yelling the Carmagnole. They were not so drunk as Peter had hoped they would be, the six-mile walk from the château having enabled them to partially shake off the effects of the wine they had imbibed; and indeed, their leaders had broken up the casks and spilled all the liquor two hours before the start was made. Many of them carried torches, while some had lanterns, for they had left Marseilles at midnight. They were a strange, wild-looking lot: all wore either red caps or cockades in their hats, their long hairhung down on to their shoulders, and the plunder they bore added to the savagery of their appearance. About a hundred passed along; then came some men with pikes. At their head walked one holding aloft the head of the baron, and six others followed him with those of the servants that had fallen.

Immediately behind these came twenty men with muskets marching in two lines, and between them were the baroness and her daughters. Though weak with grief and fatigue they walked along unaided, holding their heads erect, and without casting a look to the right or left. As the pikemen came along Peter passed the word, and the sailors crawled out through the bushes, any noise they made being deadened by the roar of the mob. Then Peter shouted "At them, lads," and in a moment the sailors were among the men with the muskets, the whole of whom were cut down before they had time to fire a shot. Then, according to the orders they had received, half turned each way; one party fell upon the pikemen with their ghastly burdens, the other on those following the men with muskets. Peter, followed closely by Jamieson and his four men, had sprung at once to the ladies' side.

"Thank God I have rescued you," he exclaimed. "But there is no time for talk now—keep with these men—we will cover your retreat. If you are unable to walk they have stretchers to carry you along."

They were clinging together bewildered by the sudden combat that had broken out around them.

"Robbins," Peter called to a sailor close by him, "do you join Jamieson's party, then there will be two to each stretcher. Directly you get off the road, put the ladies on to them, go off at a trot; you will take them along a great deal faster than they can walk."

He hurried the ladies off the road. The stretchers were laid down on the ground.

"At them, lads."

"Please lie down on them at once," he said, "there is not a moment to be lost."

Almost mechanically they did as he told them, and the six men caught up their burdens and went off at a swinging trot, the weight being hardly felt by them. Peter ran back on to the road. At present it could scarcely be said that there was any fighting; taken wholly by surprise, astounded at finding themselves attacked by British sailors, those near them thought at first only of flight, and the tars were chasing and cutting them down ruthlessly, maddened by the sight of the heads carried on the pikes.

Peter waited for a minute and then fired his pistol. In a moment the pursuit ceased; the two parties of sailors came running back, fell into two lines, and, headed by him, followed the direction taken by the first party. For two or three minutes confusion reigned among the mob. Those in front and those behind were alike ignorant of the nature of the fray which had suddenly taken place in the centre; but some of the more intelligent of their leaders shouted that it was but a handful of sailors that had attacked them, and starting with those round them, took up the pursuit, the others following them, though as yet without any clear comprehension of what had taken place, many discharging their muskets wildly in the direction in which the fugitives had made off. When they reached the first lantern Peter dashed it to the ground. He and his men had now come up with the first party, and moderated their pace. They had gone fully half a mile before the crowd came up to within fifty yards of them, then they began to fire.

"When I give the word the rear line will turn and fire a volley. Aim low, lads; don't be in any hurry; take steady aim; never mind about being all together. Slacken down your pace a bit now; we will let them come up to within twenty yards."

Three minutes later he gave the word, "Rear line, halt, face round, take steady aim, fire." Twelve musketsflashed out, and yells of pain and fury rose from the mob.

"Second line, halt; first line, take place behind them, and load."

As soon as this was done, he gave the order, "Steady, aim, fire," and twelve more bullets were sent into the thick of the mob. But though almost every shot told, and those among whom the volleys had been fired, first hesitated and then ran back, those on the flanks still pressed on; but as soon as the sailors fired they continued their retreat, running fast now to overtake Jamieson's party. When they did so they completed their loading, and again their volleys kept the crowd in check. Three times this was repeated, and then urged on by their leaders the crowd rushed forward.

"Sling your muskets, out pistols and cutlass, charge," Peter shouted, and with a cheer the men rushed at their pursuers. For a moment these stood their ground, but the attack was too fierce for them. Keeping well together, the sailors burst their way through them, cutlass and pistol doing their work, till at last the crowd they had charged turned and fled.

"Any one down?" Peter asked, as he halted the men.

"Bill Hopkins has got a ball in his leg, sir."

"Well, four of you catch him up and carry him. That is right; now, on we go again."

They were now not far from the shore, and the leaders shouted to the mob to run on and cut their enemies off from their boats. Fortunately they were in ignorance that the ladies with their escorts had been taken straight on, Peter having before he charged told them to make the best of the way forward. The sailors were now running fast. A few of the swiftest runners of the mob had got ahead of them, but these did not venture to oppose the rush of the sailors, and the latter broke into a loud cheer as they reached the edge of thelevel ground and saw the sea before them. Peter called for a lantern, lighted a blue light, threw it on to the ground, and then rushed down to the boat. On each side of the party were a number of their foes, but these dared not close with them until joined by the rest. The ladies had already been placed in the largest of the two boats.

"Stand on the thwarts and fire over our heads," Peter shouted. "Take your places quietly, men, two by two; the rest face round." But as a mass of men appeared on the crest behind them there was a loud report, a ball hummed over their heads and plumped into the crowd behind, and another followed; the Marseillais recoiled, and the men rapidly took their places in the boat. But the sight of their prey escaping them was too much, and the infuriated crowd rushed down the slope; then gun after gun was discharged from the schooner, and the grape-shot swept through the mob. The volley from the boats completed their discomfiture, and leaving numbers of their companions behind, they rushed back for shelter; while, as the boats pushed off from shore, a shout of triumph rose from the sailors, and stretching to the oars, they were soon alongside the schooner, which was sending round after round of grape in the direction which the fugitives had taken.

The ladies were helped up the ladder. The two girls had several times asked their carriers to set them down, as they were able now to walk; but the sailors replied, "We have orders to carry you down, miss, and you are no weight at all. We would much rather go on as we are; it will be time enough to set you down if there is any fighting to be done." Peter at once led them into his cabin.

"Now, Madame la Baronne, this will be your cabin, and the two facing it will be for the girls. I have no time to talk now," he said, as they endeavoured to thank him; "I have to get the vessel under way, this firing may bringthe gunboats from Marseilles upon us. As soon as we are off I will get some coffee made; I am sure that you must want it terribly; the steward will bring it to you. As soon as you have drunk it go to bed. You will have plenty of time to talk in the morning."

So saying, he left them at once and went up on deck, seeing they were so shaken that they would break down altogether unless left to themselves. The anchor was at once got up, the sails hoisted, and the schooner made her way out to sea. The wind was very light, and Peter said—

"You have had some hard work, lads, but you must do a little more; we must get well off shore before morning. Even if they have not heard the guns at Marseilles, some of those fellows will soon be there with the news, and they will be sending a couple of gunboats after us, and in so light a wind they will be more than a match for us, so you must tow her out. The ten men who have been on board will man one of the boats, and ten of you the other; after a couple of hours the other twenty will take their places. Don't let any wounded man be among the first ten; we must look to them, and see who is fit for service."

Ordering the course to be set south-west, he and Harding proceeded to examine the wounds. With the exception of Bill Hopkins's broken leg, none of these were serious. Two had flesh wounds from musket balls, three or four had received cuts from swords, or thrusts with pikes, but none of these required more than bandaging. As soon as day broke a man was sent to the mast-head.

"There are two black specks behind, sir; they have both lug-sails, and I fancy that they are rowing."

"Get two of the guns well aft," Peter ordered, "so as to fire over the taffrail. I hope we shall have some wind soon; and at any rate they are likely to find that they have caught a tartar."

In an hour and a half the gunboats were near enoughto open fire, and two balls struck the water at a short distance from the schooner. Peter called the men in from the boats. "We have got to fight now, my lads, and you may as well rest your arms for half-an-hour, for you will want your strength if they get alongside."

"Shall we open fire, sir?" Jamieson, who was in charge of the two guns, asked.

"No, I think their guns are heavier than ours; we had better wait till we are sure that they are well within our range."

"There is a sail ahead, sir," the man at the mast-head shouted down. "I think it is the frigate."

"Thank God for that, Harding! We might tackle one of those gunboats; but I don't think that we should have much chance with two of them. I expect they each carry double the number of men that we do."

"The frigate has changed her course, sir," Harding said; "she is heading straight for us now. She must have heard the guns, and she looks as if she was bringing down a breeze with her."

"I hope that the gunboats will not get sight of her until it is too late for them to escape; but I fear that is too good to be even hoped for. I feel sure we can manage to keep them at bay until she comes up, unless indeed they knock away some important spar; and we are more likely to hit them than they are to damage us, for you don't get so quiet a platform in a boat that is being rowed as you do in one moving with sails only. Now then, Jamieson, suppose we give them a taste of your quality. I should lay both guns on the same craft, for if we can but cripple one we can fight it out with the other."

The first shot passed through the gunboat's sails. The second was received with loud cheers by the crew of theAlert, for striking the water some twenty yards in front of the gunboat, it ricochetted along the line of oars on one side, smashing the whole of them short off.

"Well done," Peter exclaimed. "That is almost as good as if you had knocked one of her masts over."

Several more shots were fired, but with less success. At last one struck the foremast just above the deck and brought it down.

"That puts them out of it, Harding. I don't say that if they cut the gear away at once, and rowed with half their oars on each side they would not go faster through the water than we are doing, but it must cause a delay, and as, no doubt, they think the other fellow strong enough to do the work alone, it is likely enough that they will set to work to get up a jury-mast before they do anything else."

The other gunboat was now fast closing up. Jamieson had knocked two or three holes in her bow, and they could see by the confusion caused that two of the shot at least swept the whole length of the deck—one of the guns having been dismounted, and several men killed. To Peter's satisfaction he saw from the course that the gunboat was taking that her commander intended to fight him broadside to broadside before endeavouring to board. As she came nearly abreast, the oars were laid in, and for half-an-hour the two craft lay to and hammered each other, at a distance of fifty yards apart.

As soon as the gunboats had been seen, Peter had run below, and called through the doors for the ladies to get up and dress at once, as two gunboats had come out from Marseilles.

"They won't be within gunshot for another hour," he said, "and the steward will have breakfast for you as soon as you are ready, and after that we will take you down to a place in the hold where you will be quite out of reach of shot."

As soon as the steward told him that the ladies had left their cabin he ran down again.

"My dear Peter," the baroness began.

"You must really defer your thanks for the present, madame, especially as you have by no means made your escape yet. We are going to have a bout with two gunboats behind us. No doubt they were sent off from Marseilles as soon as that mob of scoundrels returned there."

"But you will beat them off, will you not, Peter?" Melanie said confidently.

"Well, I shall try my best," Peter replied. "I fancy that we have every chance of doing so. My gunner is a capital shot, and it will be very hard if he does not cripple one of them, and I think that we shall be men enough to thrash the other. Besides, I think it very likely that theTartarwill be along this morning. She was going to convoy a prize we took, and it is about time for her to be back again, and you may be sure that the gunboats will make off as fast as they can if they see her coming. I am going to breakfast with you," he went on—"in the first place, because I want breakfast; and in the second place, because very likely you would eat next to nothing if I were not here with you."

"We saw you come along at eleven o'clock yesterday morning," Julie said. "We were able to get a view of the sea between our guards. We saw you sail away from the shore, and it cheered us very much, for we felt sure that you would try to do something."

"I was close to you an hour later, Julie. I landed in disguise directly I saw your signal and the smoke rising from the lower windows, and stayed an hour talking with those wretches. Of course what one wanted to learn was the time at which they would start with you for Marseilles. As soon as I had learned that, I got on board again at once. Everything worked well. We came back after dark, set an ambush on the road, carried you off, and took you on board. How about the jewels?"

"We buried them at the spot that we agreed on," Julie said; "ours and mother's."

"We buried them at the spot that we agreed on."

"That is good. I will make a trip and bring them off the next time we come along here. Now I must run up again. You need not go down till the first gun is fired."

"We would much rather—" Julie began.

"Excuse me, but I would much rather that you went down below. It would make me very uncomfortable did I know that you were exposed to danger, and we are nowin the most dangerous part of the ship, for it is just at those stern-windows that the enemy will be aiming."

At the end of the half-hour, during which a furious cannonade continued, both vessels had suffered a good deal, the gunboat's cannon being of heavier metal than those of the schooner; but at close quarters this advantage was not very great, and was more than counterbalanced by the much greater speed with which the English sailors handled their guns. The sides of both vessels were torn and splintered; there were yawning holes in the bulwarks; the sails, dropping idly, for the wind had entirely failed them, were riddled with holes; the gaff of the gunboat's mainsail had been shot asunder, and the foremast had been so badly wounded that it would certainly be carried away directly a breeze filled the sail. The schooner's bowsprit had been carried away, and the gaff halliards of the mainsail cut asunder. The execution among the French crew was very much heavier than that among the British, as there were so many more of them on deck. It became evident at last that the Frenchmen were getting the worst of the duel, for their fire suddenly slackened and the sweeps were run out again.

"Clap a charge of grape in over your shot," Peter shouted.

It was no easy matter for the Frenchmen to get alongside, owing to the vessels being so close together. At first they rowed on both sides, but the power of the helm was not sufficient to bring her suddenly round; and instead of coming alongside, she crossed the schooner's bows. The guns of the larboard side of theAlertwere trained as far forward as possible, and poured their contents into the gunboat as she swept across them; while as soon as, with the greatest difficulty, the lugger brought her head round in order to board on the starboard side, the guns here swept their decks, killing great numbers of the men at the sweeps. At last, after suffering very heavy loss, the French captainbrought his craft alongside. The moment that he did so Peter and his crew leapt on board her with a loud cheer. The French were already greatly disheartened at the terrible loss that they had suffered, and although greatly superior in numbers, they gave way foot by foot; and when their captain, who had fought gallantly, got a bullet through his head, they threw down their arms, and rushed below. Hatches were clapped over them, and then Peter, for the first time, was able to look round. The other gunboat was rowing away with all speed; but a mile away the frigate, bringing down a fresh breeze with her, and with the water foaming at her bow, was sweeping along at a rate which would bring her alongside the gunboat long before the latter could reach Marseilles. As she neared the schooner theTartarran up the signal, "Well done,Alert," and her crew gave a hearty cheer, which was responded to by the crew of the schooner. The latter had lost eight men killed, and no less than twenty-three wounded, chiefly by splinters. As soon as the frigate had passed, Peter ran down below. The ladies had just come up into the cabin.

"We heard your men cheering and knew that you had won," the baroness said.

"Yes, we have captured one of them, and the frigate will have the other. It is well that she came up when she did, for if the second boat, instead of stopping to repair damages, had rowed up to aid her consort, it would have gone hard with us."

"You are wounded, I see!" Julie exclaimed.

"Oh, it is only a flesh wound," he said; "a splinter struck me in the shoulder; a bandage will set that all right in a day or two. I wish that none of my men had worse wounds."

The frigate returned in an hour with the second gunboat, which, seeing escape impossible and resistance useless, had lowered her ensign as soon as theTartaropened fire upon her. When theTartarcame alongside, the captain hailed the schooner, and told Peter to come on board.

"There is not a boat that can swim either on board us or the gunboat, sir."

"Very well, then, I will come to you and bring the doctor with me. I am afraid that you have a heavy list of casualties."

"I am sorry to say that we have, sir, and the Frenchmen have three times as many."

The captain was at once rowed on board with the surgeon. The latter immediately set to work to attend to the wounded, while the captain learned from Peter the events that had taken place.

"I congratulate you heartily, Mr. Vignerolles," he said when he heard the story, "and I am glad indeed that you succeeded in rescuing the ladies. You say you had no one killed in doing so?"

"No, sir; there was only one man seriously hurt."

"Well, of course, you must report that affair as well as the fight, but I should cut that part of the business as short as possible, and merely say that you landed a party and rescued the Baroness de Vignerolles and her daughters from the hands of a mob from Marseilles, and brought them on board without any loss of life among your party, but with a very heavy loss to the mob. Of course we have general orders to give shelter to Royalists trying to make their escape from France, but the Admiralty might not perhaps approve of quite such a dangerous expedition as that you undertook. I will send a couple of boatloads of men on board to help your fellows to repair the damages to the schooner and her prize. It is clear that you must go down to Gibraltar for repairs. I will man both the prizes and send them down with you; and even if you come across a couple of French privateers, they will hardly venture to attack you."

By evening the damage was sufficiently repaired. The more seriously wounded of theAlert'smen were taken on board the frigate, and an equal number of men sent to take their places. Twenty men were placed on board each of the gunboats, and theTartarthen sailed eastward, while the other three craft started for Gibraltar.

"There is no getting your jewels now, madame," Peter said, as, after sail was made, he went down into the cabin. "Next time I cruise along here I will get them for you; but at present I am under orders for Gibraltar, and must go straight there. I shall have no difficulty in arranging passages for you to England, and you may be sure of a most hospitable reception when you get to my father's. It is perhaps just as well that you should not take the jewels with you, for it is possible that the vessel you go home from Gib by may be captured by French privateers. Indeed I should recommend your staying at Gibraltar until a convoy is made up there, say under the protection of a frigate; and in the meantime I shall, of course, be your banker. I shall hold your jewels, you see, as security for the loan."

On arriving at Gibraltar they found quite a fleet of merchantmen there waiting for a convoy, and before the repairs on board theAlertwere executed he had the satisfaction of seeing the three ladies comfortably settled on board a large ship which with the others sailed on the following morning for England under the convoy of a frigate and two gun-brigs. Peter had been highly complimented by the naval officer commanding the station, and two days afterwards passed his examination, and was at once promoted to the rank of lieutenant. Ten days later he sailed again, and arriving after dark one evening at his old anchorage off the château, again landed in disguise, and accompanied by a couple of sailors, made his way up to the ruins, dug up the box, and brought it on board, and the first time he saw theTartarhe handed it to thecaptain, asking him to send it to England by the first frigate or man-of-war going home.

"I am afraid to keep it on board, sir, for the contents are valuable, and it would be a heavy weight upon my mind if we got into action with a superior force. It contains the family jewels of the de Vignerolles."

A month later the box reached its destination, and some time afterwards a letter from his father informed him that he had disposed of the greater portion of the jewels at the request of the baroness, and that she and her daughters were now established at a house within a few minutes' walk of his. Four years later Peter returned home with the rank of commander; and two marriages took place while he was at home on leave, his elder brother marrying Melanie de Vignerolles, while he and Julie paired off together. Five years later Peter, now a post-captain, retired from active service on half-pay, a cannon-ball having carried his right leg off just below the knee. Julie, far from regretting the event, declared openly that she considered the wound to be a most fortunate one, for that the war might go on for any time, and it was vastly better to have him at home, even with half a leg, than to be in constant anxiety lest she should hear that he had fallen. The jewels had fetched a large sum, and the greater portion of this the baroness divided between her two daughters, she herself taking up her residence, at Peter's earnest request, with him and Julie, until her death, which took place ten years later.

CHAPTER I

I,Adrian Trent, now known as Lord Trent, and a captain ofLes Mousquetaires Gris, sat in my little salon in the Lion d'Or, in the Rue Louis le Grand in Paris, on Midsummer Day, in the year of our Lord 1726. And in my hand I held a little perfumed billet, which I had turned over in my fingers a dozen times, and had, perhaps, read twice as often. For it recalled to me a strange meeting, and some strange scenes in which I had been concerned when I was but aporte-drapeau. Also it recalled to me some other things far sweeter, which, to a young man, must needs be pleasant recollections—to wit, things such as a lovely face flushed now and again with the colour that adorns the blushing rose of Provence; dark eyes, sometimes as soft as velvet, and sometimes sparkling like ice beneath the winter sun; black hair that once—in an awful moment of fear and extremity—I had seen adown the owner's back, almost to her feet; a supple girlish form, and other charms. A girl whom, although I had not seen her for five years, I had never forgotten, but whom I always strove to forget, because she was wealthy and I was poor; because, although I was a man of good rank in my own country, she was almost of the very highest in hers; because she was, in truth, as far aboveme as the sun is above the earth. Yet once, for a little while, that girl and I had been the best of friends; once, too, it seemed as if that friendship had been very near to a softer and more tender emotion, and as if Adrian Trent and Ana, Princesa de Carbajal, were falling in love with each other—if they had not already done so.

Whereupon, thinking over all these things, I again turned the letter in my hands, and again I read it.

"So you are back in Paris, I hear," it ran; "and would you not like to see a girl called Damaris whom once you knew? I think you would—perhaps in memory of having saved that girl's life on one occasion;[1]of also having once called her by the prettiest epithet a man can bestow on any woman, and of having been much teased and pestered by that girl. If so, then come to the Marais, to the Rue des Vraies Femmes, and to the house which bears the name of my family, and if you come at the proper time I will give you some chocolate and a bonbon. I wonder if you are much changed, and if you will find me so!Damaris."

Damaris."

The prettiest epithet a man can bestow on any woman! So she remembered it! remembered that I had called her "sweetheart" in all the impudence of boyhood and the possession of my guidon in themousquetaires, and when I did not know that she was a princess of one of the most ancient and powerful families in Catalonia, and in possession of enormous estates and great wealth.

But did she remember another thing also—namely, that after being highly indignant with me for my presumption, she had laughed and whispered that pretty word to me in return? Did she remember that? If not, I did. And now I would see for it.

An hour later I was outside the great door of theHôtel de Carbajal, and a lackey answering my summons, I learned that the Princess was within. Whereon I bade him say that Lord Trent waited below to pay his devoirs to her, if it might be that she would receive him.

"Her Highness expects milor," the man said. "Will milor give himself the trouble to follow me?"

Whereon "milor," attired in his best black satin suit—for, alas! he had but recently returned from England, and the funeral of his father—and silver lace, did follow the man through the great gloomy house, and along corridor after corridor, he thinking all the time of what the fellow had said—that "her Highness expected him." "So," "milor" said to himself, "she knew I would come."

Then the door opened, and the footman announced "Milor Trent," and for some reason the midsummer sun seemed to dazzle my eyes, and I saw a figure spring—that is the word, "spring"—from a deep fauteuil, and I felt two slim hands in mine, and I heard a well-remembered voice say, "So you have come, my lord."

"Yes, I have come, your Highness. You knew very well that I should come. Yet, yet," for, somehow, I at once began to grow bold, "there was no word of 'Highness' nor of 'lord' in the old days. Then you were 'a girl called Damaris,' and——"

"And," she interrupted, with a soft laugh, "you were an impudent young soldier called Blue Eyes. But now we are old, staid people. I am twenty-four."

"And I am twenty-five," I interrupted in my turn.

"Wherefore we have grown sober and steady. Still, notwithstanding that, you may tell me if you choose whether you think I have aged very much."

Aged very much! Yes, she had aged, if being more beautiful than ever meant having aged. For now the sun dazzled me no longer, and I could see all her loveliness, I could observe that the tall, slim form had grown a little, just a little, more womanly; that the soft dark eyeshad just a little more of calmness in their gaze; that the scarlet lips were as full, and the small white teeth, which I had always admired so much, as brilliant.

"But all the same," she said, while I surveyed her, "you need not hold my hand so long. One does not look at another with their fingers."

Then, when I had released that hand, which, I protest, I did not know I was holding, she bade me sit down by her side, she herself taking a seat upon a great Segovian ottoman close by, and drawing up to her a little ebony table upon which was a little gilt coach, with the doors and windows of glass, and with four little silver horses to it, and a coachman and footman in gold. And she opened one of the doors of this little coach and popped her long slim fingers in and drew out a bonbon, and, I thought, was going to pop it in my mouth too. But, if that had been her intention, she considered better of it, perhaps because she was now "sober and steady," and so, instead, laid it gravely down on the ebony table, and pointed to it, and said, "Eat it;" which I did.

"Now," she said, "we will drink something,à la bonne chance. I drink chocolate; but since you are a great bigmousquetaireyou may have some wine if you choose. Let me see; there is Florence wine, and Lunel and Muscadine, and——"

"I shall drink the chocolate or nothing," I said firmly, since I was not going to sit toping like a rudemousquetairebefore my Princess while she drank the other. Whereon she told me to ring the bell and order the chocolate, and in ten minutes we were discussing that beverage, and the footman had left us alone.

"Oh!" she exclaimed volatilely, "do you remember, Blue Eyes—I mean, my lord—when I sat on the table in the inn at Toulouse and drank wine out of your cup, surrounded by you and your huge troopers, and when I was supposed to be a wandering vagrant girl called Damaris?"

"You will always be Damaris to me.Ishan't call you 'Princess' nor 'Highness,' and I wish you would not call me by that silly title of 'lord.' And I've only been one a month, and have not grown used to it."

"But what am I to call you? I mustn't call you Blue Eyes any more, because we are now grave and staid; and Adrian is too familiar. I should poniard you if you were to call me Ana."

"There was another name exchanged between us once," I said—"one alluded to in your letter received by me to-day."

"Ah!" she said, with a little shriek, "don't recall that. How dare you! I only wrote it to bring myself back to your memory."

"Oh!" I said, "did you? Well, now, what did your high—I mean you, Damaris—send for me for at all, if it was only to be so haughty and distant? There are no more burning houses to save you from; and as for—for—old Alberoni——"

"Monseigneur the Cardinal Alberoni, if you please."

"As for Monseigneur the Cardinal Alberoni—well! what has become of him? He has finished his sch—politics—I suppose?"

"He lives the life of a saint at Piacenza. But—but I did not send for you to talk about his Eminence."

"What then, Da—I mean—well!—you understand?"

"You remember," she said, "that you did save my life once? Of course you do; you have but just referred to it."

"Is it in danger now? And am I to save it again?"

"My happiness is. I want you to save me from a man—a man who, though perhaps it may surprise you, wants to marry me."

"Ah! bah!" I said, forgetting my manners and jumping out of my chair, and beginning to walk about the room. "Bah! A man wants to marry you, indeed!" and I felt quite angry at the very idea of such a thing.

"It is strange that he should desire to do so, is it not?" she said, with a queer little, but very pretty, grimace. "All the same, it's the truth. It is indeed, Blue—I mean, my lord."

"Who is the fellow?"

"Oh!" she said, with another of her little shrieks. "The fellow! Why—er—Lord Trent—he is one of the scions of our royal house—of Austria and Spain."

"Shall I run him through? I will if he wants to marry you—and—and—you bid me do so."

"You might have to run more than one through, at that rate, Blue Eyes," and this time she forgot to correct herself, which, if I remember rightly, seemed to please me; "I think you might, indeed. But, no! I imagine you can do better than that."

"How? I'll do it."

"Will you, my lord?" ("Vengeance confound that title!" thought I.) "I wonder if you will?"

"What shall I do? Tell me and it shall be done, Damaris," forgetting myself also in my agitation.

"I suppose," she said, speaking slowly, and with a wondrous look in those witching eyes, "you would not condescend to play at being my lover, would you?—only for a little while—say for a week or so."

"Wouldn't I! Try me! But—but—am I to have all the privileges of a lover during that week or so? Eh, Damaris?"

"Don't call me Damaris; it is not respectful. Yes, you may have all the privileges of a lover—in public."

"Oh! inpublic. But—in private! Then——"

"Then I am the Princesa de Carbajal and you are Lord Trent."

"What are a lover's privileges in public—I mean with princesses and scions of ancient houses? He has to be a kind of slave, a worshipper, does he not?"

"He does as a rule; but then, you see, Blu—my lord,"and while she spoke she held a bonbon out tantalisingly before my eyes, "you have got to play a different part from the ordinary one of a lover to a princess. You will play it, won't you—Adrian?"

"I'll play anything," I said, much agitated by the last word she uttered.

"Bueno!Well, now, see. You must be a humble lover—one beneath me, with whom I have fallen in love in a manner discreditable to my rank. And, thereby, you will make my suitor jealous—oh! so jealous—because we will play such tricks upon him that he will renounce me. Oh! I have invented such schemes to make him do so. Neither Quevedo nor Vega ever thought of such tricks."

"It will be a dangerous game," I said meditatively.

"Dangerous! Dangerous!" she exclaimed. "Why, Blue Eyes, you are not afraid of a Spanish don although he is of the royal house, are you? Fie! and you a soldier."

"That isn't the danger I meant," I replied quietly, so quietly that she guessed my meaning in a moment, as I saw by the rich crimson which mantled her cheek instantly, and the increased brilliancy of her lovely, starlike eyes.

"Dangerous to whom, pray?" she demanded.

"To me!" I answered boldly; "because I shall lo——"

"Hsh! hsh! hsh!" she said, putting her hand up quickly. "None of that! none of that! Yet, nevertheless, there will be danger—to——"

"Whom?" I asked now.

"To you, of course. Oh! not to me, Blue Eyes. Oh no! no!" she continued somewhat nervously, I thought. "Not to me. Oh no. Think not that, my lord."

"I can think what I like," I said. "Even aslave'sthoughts are his own. But where's the danger, if you mean ordinary danger?"

"He is great," she almost whispered now, "and powerful, even in Paris. He is, too, enormously rich, richer than I am, and can hire people to do whatsoever he wishes. Hemighthire vagabonds to assault you—to—to—oh! Adrian!—throw you into the Seine with your throat cut, or stab you under the shoulder in a dark alley, and—and—all because you do this out of friendship for me, and with no hope of reward."

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