
  Yule-Tide Yarns

  Edited by
  G. A. Henty

  With Forty-five Illustrations


  [Illustration]


  Longmans, Green, and Co.
  39 Paternoster Row, London
  New York and Bombay
  1899

  _All rights  reserved_




  CONTENTS


                                                                  PAGE

  CHÂTEAU AND SHIP.   By G. A. HENTY                                 1
    _Illustrated by_ GORDON BROWNE.

CHÂTEAU AND SHIP

_A TALE OF THE TERROR_

BY G. A. HENTY


The _Alert_, a handsome schooner of some 200 tons burden, was in April
1793 cruising along the southern shore of France. She had been captured
a fortnight before by his Majesty's frigate _Tartar_, a week after the
declaration of war between France and England. As she was a very fast
vessel, the captain of the _Tartar_ had placed thirty men on board her,
under the command of his senior midshipman, Vignerolles, in order that
he might gather news of the movements of any hostile craft from Toulon
or Marseilles, and pick up any French merchantmen returning from abroad
and ignorant that war had begun. The young commander was standing on
the quarter-deck with his glass fixed upon a large château standing
some four miles back from the sea on a lofty eminence.

"The baron must be mad," he said, as he lowered the glass, "to remain
there with his wife and two daughters, when he might long ago have
managed to escape with them across the frontier into Italy. If he is
so pig-headed as to determine to stop there himself, and have his head
chopped off by the guillotine, he might at least have sent _them_ to a
place of safety. I have been brought up to admire the French nobles,
but upon my word, if they are all like him they well deserve the fate
that is falling upon them. Of course those who emigrate have their
estates forfeited, but it is a good deal better to lose your estate
than your estate and head also."

Vignerolles belonged to an old Huguenot family which had emigrated
to England upon the revocation of the edict of Nantes. They had sold
their property, and possessed considerable means when they arrived
in England. Chiefly for the sake of assisting the many exiles of
their religion, they had joined two or three others in erecting a
silk manufactory at Spitalfields. As time went on, the heirs of those
who had joined them in the enterprise had gone out of it, and the
de Vignerolles of the time had become sole proprietor of the silk
factory. It had gone down from father to son in unbroken succession.
The younger sons had gone out into the world and made their ways
in other directions, but it had become a tradition that the eldest
son should take the business, which was now a very flourishing one.
They had dropped the French prefix, and now simply called themselves
Vignerolles. Their branch of the family had been the younger one. The
Barons de Vignerolles had remained Catholics, and had possessed their
wide estates in peace, being among the largest landowners in Provence.
The connection between the two branches had been always maintained,
and from time to time members of the English branch went out for a
visit to the ancestral château, where they were always hospitably
entertained; the fact that they had gone into trade, which would have
been considered a terrible disgrace in France, being condoned on the
ground that being among a nation of traders it was only natural they
should do as their neighbours did.

Once or twice only had members of the senior branch paid a visit to
London, and then not from any desire for travel, but simply because
they were members of their embassy in London. These had brought back
news that the Vignerolles held a high place in the Huguenot colony,
that they lived in a fine old house at Hampstead, and were generally
liked and respected among the great families who lived near them.

The _Tartar_ had for the last three years been on the Mediterranean
station. Although the English people regarded with the utmost horror
the events that were taking place in France, there was no open breach
between the two nations, and it was only when the king was brought to
trial, and executed on 21st January 1793, that the popular feeling
reached a height that rendered war inevitable; the French ambassador
was ordered to leave England, and on 1st February the National
Convention declared war.

During the three previous years Vignerolles had twice been granted
a fortnight's leave of absence to visit the château of his distant
kinsman, and he had thoroughly enjoyed his stay there. The midshipman
was as strange to the baron and his family as they were to him. The
baron was a typical specimen of French noble: he was kindly by nature,
and an easy lord to his tenants; but he exercised all the seigneurial
rights of his ancestors, regarded the lower class with supreme
contempt, and was an uncompromising opponent of the changes that were
being instituted by the States-general.

"They are ruining France!" he exclaimed. "The idea of a parliament of
advocates and doctors, men of low birth, giving laws to France, and
treating the chambers of the lords and clergy as if they were of no
account, is monstrous. Were I the king I would send down a couple of
regiments, close the chamber, and hang a score of their leaders."

Still greater did his indignation become when he heard of the capture
of the Bastile, and that the king had been brought by the mob from
Versailles to Paris. He himself at once posted off to the capital,
and was one of the party of nobles who had implored the king to call
upon the army to restore order, or at least to bring in two or three
regiments to form a royal guard. He was one of those who had fought
to the last against the mob when they stormed the Tuileries, and had
been left for dead. The two valets he had taken with him had at night
carried off his body, which they were permitted to do by the mob, under
the belief that he was dead. He had, however, recovered, and finding
that the king had refused to countenance any attempt to rescue him
by force, had returned to his château. He was no longer violent, but
remained in a state of the most profound depression, seldom speaking,
and wandering about the house murmuring, "Poor France, poor France!"

[Illustration: "The two valets had at night carried off his body."]

In vain his friends represented to him that the nobles were everywhere
being seized, and that for the sake of his wife and girls he ought
to cross the frontier into Italy while there was yet time. He only
replied, "It shall never be said that a de Vignerolles fled before this
canaille. They can murder us, but they cannot make cowards of us." The
baroness was a bright and kindly woman, and her daughters charming
girls, though with some little of their father's pride of ancestry.
The formal service of the house, the strict etiquette, and what the
midshipman considered ridiculous pomposity, surprised and amused him as
much as did his utter disregard of ceremony, his lively ways, merry and
unrestrained laughter, amuse his far-away cousins. The baron, who might
have been offended by it, paid no attention to what was going on around
him, and his presence acted rather as a damper upon his visitor's high
spirits; but when alone with the girls and their mother, he was free to
say and do what he liked, and they felt their life, which was now an
anxious one, brightened by his visits.

When Peter Vignerolles was appointed to the command of the newly
captured schooner, the captain of the _Tartar_ said to him: "As senior
midshipman I should in any case have given you the command of the
_Alert_, but I know that you will be specially pleased to be in command
of her now. There can be no question that the position of your friends
at the château is a most precarious one, and the baron himself must
be mad to compel his family to run such a frightful risk. If he likes
to throw away his own life, well and good; but he has no right to
expose his family to such frightful dangers; and he has not the excuse
of ignorance, for scores of noble ladies have been murdered by this
bloodthirsty mob. It may be that at the last moment there will be a
chance for them to escape, and if you can in any way assist them to do
so without running too much risk, I think that you will be justified in
acting.

"I do not authorise you to take any action, because I know nothing of
the circumstances; but our general instructions always have been to
give shelter to French royalists, and to carry them to the nearest port
where they can be landed with safety to themselves, and I certainly
should not myself hesitate to send a boat ashore to take them off. You
know the first time that you paid them a visit after we came out here
you brought the baroness and her two daughters to see the frigate, and
I feel therefore personally interested in them, and shall be glad to
hear that they have made their escape; so that if you get a message
saying that they will come down to the shore you will be more than
justified in sending a boat for them, and even in running a certain
amount of risk. However, I must leave the matter to your discretion."

"Thank you, sir; but I am afraid that the baron will neither take any
step for his own safety, nor permit them to leave the château without
him; still I shall do anything that I possibly can to look after them."

"I shall send young Harding with you, and the boatswain's mate. If you
capture any prizes you had best turn the crews adrift in their own
boats with a couple of oars; we don't want to cumber ourselves with
prisoners. You had better keep the prizes with you until we come across
you again; in that case five men would be enough to man one of them,
while if you were to send them down to Gibraltar you would want a petty
officer and eight or ten men. Don't cumber yourself with worthless
prizes, burn or sink any small craft; but, of course, if you get hold
of a ship returning full of goods from one of their colonies, she would
be worth convoying there at once."

And so Peter Vignerolles had sailed away in the _Alert_, the crew being
as pleased as he was at the prospect of an expedition on their own
account away from the frigate.

"It is disgusting--isn't it, Peter?" Harding, who was two years junior
to Vignerolles, said, after he too had taken a look at the château
through the glass--"to think that your friends are there, and that the
'reds' from Marseilles may go up there any day and drag them off to
prison."

"The brutes!" Peter said savagely. "Look here, Harding; I mean to land
to-night and go up and see the ladies. I shall not see the baron. I
regard him as half-cracked, and he would be just as likely as not to
take it into his head that now the two countries are at war, it would
be his duty to hand me over to the authorities. Besides, it is just as
well to keep him in the dark about it altogether. I want to let them
know that I am in command of this schooner. Of course I am supposed to
cruise generally along the French coast; but I intend to keep pretty
close here, of course running out to sea and picking up any craft that
are making for Marseilles or Cette. The _Tartar_ will be watching
Toulon, and although my orders are for general cruising, I know by
what the captain said that he will not be put out if I keep a good
deal in this neighbourhood, where, indeed, I have a better chance of
picking up prizes than I should have if I went farther west. Anyhow,
I want to let them know that we are here, and shall be ready to take
them off if necessary. If they want to speak to us, I shall tell the
girls to hang out a red curtain from their window; if they want to come
off, they are to hang out a white one. We can make them out plainly
enough with a glass from here. Of course I cannot guarantee that we
shall be here when we are most needed, for no doubt the gunboats from
Cette and Marseilles will both be patrolling the coast; besides, we may
be a hundred miles away in pursuit of a prize. However, it will be a
satisfaction for me to know that I have done all that is possible, and
it may be some comfort to them to know that if they can find their way
down to the shore, and signal from there when they see us, they will
have a chance of escape."

"Will you go in disguise?"

"Yes. We took two or three suits of clothes from that fishing-boat that
we overhauled yesterday. I did so on purpose. You see, if one was going
on such a business among what you might call civilised people, I should
go in uniform, for then if I were caught I should not be shot as a spy;
but among these ruffians the uniform would be no protection for me, and
I shall therefore go in one of the fishermen's suits. You see I speak
French as well as English, and shall run very small risk. Of course I
shall take a brace of pistols and a good heavy stick, and if any one
interferes with me they must take the consequences."

After proceeding a mile farther along the coast the schooner's head
was turned seaward, and she ran twenty miles off the coast. Just
as Vignerolles was about to give the order to bring her head round
again, the look-out from the cross-trees shouted down, "A sail on the
weather-bow."

"What does she look like?" Peter asked.

"I can't make her out yet, sir, her upper sails are only just up, but I
should say that she was a large craft."

Peter gave the order to lower the top-sails. "We had better keep out
of her sight as long as we can, Harding; she may be a French frigate
or man-of-war making for Toulon, and as she has the wind pretty nearly
free, it would be as well to give her a wide berth. If she is a
merchantman, we will sail out to meet her. It is not likely that she
has got news yet of war being declared, and she won't suspect any harm
until too late."

It was some time before the man at the mast-head again hailed them.

"She is a three-masted ship, sir, but I don't fancy from the cut of her
sails that she is a ship of war."

"I will come up and have a look at her myself," Peter said, and
slinging his glass over his shoulder he made his way aloft.

"Yes, she is certainly a trader," he said, after a long look at her.
"Let her go two points more off the wind. Mr. Harding, we shall cross
her course a little ahead of her, and that will put Cette nearly dead
astern of us, and she will suppose that we have only just come out and
are making for Corsica."

The top-sails were hoisted again, and the schooner ran along fast, for
the breeze just suited her, being sufficiently strong to carry all sail
with comfort. They rose the other ship fast. There was no longer any
doubt whatever as to her being a trader. They could presently make out
that she carried twelve guns, six on each side. Peter went to the man
at the wheel--

"Keep her up a point," he said; "we will pass a couple of cable lengths
under his stern."

In the meantime the guns had been loaded, and all the crew save ten
ordered to sit down under the shelter of the bulwarks, so that those
watching her should not see that she carried more hands than the usual
company of a craft of her size. The manner in which the vessel kept on
her course without making any alteration in her sail spread, showed
that there was no suspicion whatever in the minds of her officers that
she was an enemy. The _Alert_ was flying the French flag.

"Get the ensign ready for hoisting," Peter said, when within a quarter
of a mile of the Frenchman. The course had been accurately laid, and
she crossed the trader's stern at a distance of some ten lengths; then
the helm was put up, the sheets eased off, and in half a minute she
was in the Frenchman's wake, laying her course north. "Bring her up
alongside of her to windward," Peter ordered, at the same moment the
tricolour was lowered and the white ensign run up. The instant this was
done loud shouts were raised on board the Frenchman; there was a tramp
of many feet, and it was evident that the wildest confusion reigned.
The _Alert_ went so fast through the water that in three or four
minutes she was alongside. Peter sprang on to the rail and shouted--

[Illustration: "Lower your flag or I will sink you."]

"Lower your flag or I will sink you." The order was not obeyed. "Take
her alongside," he said to the helmsman; and then to the crew, "Now,
men, prepare for boarding her." The sight of the thirty sailors
armed to the teeth completed the alarm on board the Frenchman, and
their flag came fluttering down just as the sailors sprang on the
deck. Numerically the French crew were considerably stronger than the
British, but they were taken hopelessly by surprise. A few had caught
up arms, and the tarpaulins had been hastily dragged from the guns, but
the ammunition had not yet been brought on deck.

"What is the meaning of this, sir?" the French captain exclaimed, as
Peter leapt down on to the deck.

"It means, sir, that there is a state of war between England and
France, and that you are my lawful prize." The captain uttered a string
of French oaths and dashed his cap down on the deck in comic despair.
"It is the fortune of war, monsieur," Peter said quietly. "I have no
doubt that if you had been prepared you would have offered a gallant
resistance, but you see it has been a complete surprise, and of course
a very unpleasant one. What ship is this?"

"The _Martinique_, 800 tons burden, laden with coffee and other
colonial produce."

"Thank you, captain. She is a prize worth taking; she looks a new
vessel."

"It is her first voyage," the captain said.

"How many hands do you carry?"

"Forty-five all told, and, as you see, twelve guns. Ah, monsieur, if we
had had time to load and arm ourselves you would have had a different
reception."

"No doubt, no doubt; but you see we sail three feet to your two, which
more than counterbalances the difference in strength, and it would have
been a pity indeed to have knocked such a fine ship about and to have
killed a good many of your men when it would have come to the same
thing at last. Now, I should like to have a look at your papers."

The prize was indeed a valuable one, for although she had filled up at
the French islands, she had previously traded along the South American
coast, and was laden to her utmost capacity. The crew had been ordered
into the forecastle, and a heavy cable had been coiled against the door.

"We will run in, Harding, to within ten or fifteen miles of the land,
then we will lay her to. It will be dark by that time. I will leave
you with twelve men in charge of her. You will, of course, bring up
ammunition and load the guns. I shall run in and anchor as close as
I can to the land--of course showing no lights--and then make my way
up to the château. It will take me an hour to go there and an hour to
return. I may have some little difficulty in getting speech with them,
but certainly in two hours I shall be on my way back. With this wind I
ought to get ashore by half-past eight, and by half-past twelve shall
be on board again. Show no lights till two o'clock, and then hoist one
above another. I shall know by looking at the list the captain gave me,
where the _Tartar_ is likely to be to-morrow, and shall make straight
for her, and cruise about until she comes up. The ship and her contents
are worth, I should say, from twenty to twenty-five thousand pounds. I
shall hand her over to the _Tartar_, and let them put a prize crew in
her. It would never do to weaken ourselves by sending ten or twelve men
in her to Gib. No doubt the _Tartar_ will convoy her till she is off
the coast of Spain."

Consulting the list that his captain had given him, he found that the
_Tartar_ was to put in for fresh provisions at Genoa, and intended
to be back on the following day and take up her station outside the
southernmost of the Isles of Hyères.

"It could not be better," he said to Harding. "I doubt with this wind
whether she will be there, but we shall only have to keep on east till
we meet her."

"Then you won't land the prisoners to-night?"

[Illustration: "It is I, Peter Vignerolles."]

"No; they would make their way to Marseilles, and it would soon be
known that this schooner is English, of which at present they must be
in doubt, as we have always kept the French flag flying. If we don't
fall in with the _Tartar_ to-morrow we will land them east of Toulon;
the authorities there are not so likely to worry themselves over a
merchantman being captured as they are at Marseilles."

This arrangement was carried out, and it was just half-past eight when
the _Alert_ dropped anchor half a mile off the shore, and repeating his
order that no lights should be shown, Peter was rowed ashore by eight
well-armed sailors.

"Lie off a couple of hundred yards till you hear my call. You had
better drop your grapnel, or you will drift along and have to keep on
rowing, and I might have a difficulty in finding you."

When within thirty yards of the shore they stopped and listened for a
minute or two. No sound was heard, and rowing ashore, Peter leapt out.
There was no moon, but the stars were bright, and he had no difficulty
in keeping his course towards the château. He was anxious to be back
on board again, and on striking a road broke into a run, and in
three-quarters of an hour stood outside the house. There were lights in
the window of the room in which the girls slept, and taking a handful
of small stones he threw them up against the casement. He saw a figure
appear and then go away again. He threw up a second shower of pebbles,
and two figures now came to the window and opened it.

"It is I, Peter Vignerolles," he said; "I want urgently to speak to
you."

There were two exclamations of surprise; then the eldest of the girls
leaned out. "We will come down in ten minutes. Go to the window of
the dining-room. We cannot come until we are sure that every one has
retired to bed."

"All right," he said; "only don't be longer than you can help; I have a
boat waiting to take me off again."

In a few minutes the window, which extended down to the ground, opened,
and the two girls stepped out.

"Isn't it very dangerous your landing, Peter," the younger one said,
"now that your people are at war with us?"

"That is to say, at war with your enemies, Julie. No, I don't think
that there is any danger in it. Did you notice a schooner coming along
the coast at ten o'clock this morning?"

"Yes," the girls answered together, "a French schooner."

"Well, she was French, but just at present she is British, and is
tender to the _Tartar_, and I am in command of her. Now what I have
come ashore for is to arrange for you to make signals to us if you want
either to see me or to come on board with your mother. I know that it
is hopeless to expect your father to accompany you."

"There is no hope of that," she said. "Since the king's murder he has
been worse than ever. I do think that he is going out of his mind.
Nothing would induce him to fly. He has armed all the servants, and
declares that he will defend the château till the last."

"It is most unfortunate, Julie, for only one end can come of it; the
place is not defensible for a moment. I suppose that there is no hope
of persuading your mother and you to come at once."

"Not in the least, and we would not ask her," the elder girl replied.
"We are de Vignerolles too, and if our father thinks it right to remain
here, we shall certainly do so. We can die as hundreds of other noble
ladies have done."

"Well, as long as your father is here I suppose you cannot leave, but
if the 'reds' come there is no reason why you and your mother should
not fly; throwing away your lives will benefit neither France nor your
house. When this château is once taken, and your father a prisoner,
there would be no common-sense in your hesitating about making your
escape if there were an opportunity of doing so."

"No; then we would escape if we could; but once in the hands of the
'reds,' there will be little chance of that."

"Well, that would be my business. At any rate I want you to arrange
signals. We can see the window of your room from the sea. I shall be
cruising backwards and forwards; sometimes I may be away for two or
three days, because I have to attend to my duty. At any rate I want
you to hang out a red curtain when you see us come along, if you wish
to see me, and to hang out a white curtain as a signal that these
scoundrels are approaching the château or have taken it. If I see the
white curtain I shall be pretty sure that you will already be prisoners
in their hands. Then of course I shall be guided by circumstances. But
my advice and my earnest prayer is, that if the 'reds' are coming, and
your father still persists in his mad idea of defending the house, you
and your mother should have disguises ready, and, after having hung
out the signal, slip out and conceal yourselves until they have gone.
Another thing: I should advise your mother at once to pack up all the
family jewels, and the title-deeds, and other valuables, and that you
should bury them in the shrubbery without loss of time; then we could
dig them up later, and they will come in useful to you indeed should
you escape to England. It would be a good thing for you to fix upon the
spot where you will bury them now, so that I may be able to come for
them without its being necessary for one of you to act as a guide to
the place."

"I think that is a very good plan," Melanie said. "Even if we are
carried away and murdered, it would be a satisfaction to us to know
that our jewels--and you know that they are very valuable--have not
fallen into the hands of these wretches, but that they will still be
the property of one of our family."

"You didn't think, Melanie," Peter said, in a tone of pain, "that I
ever dreamt of such a thing when I made the suggestion."

"Of course not," the girl said indignantly. "How could you fancy such
a monstrous thing! Of course you were only thinking of us; but at the
same time what I say is true, that we should all be very glad to know
that these canaille have not got the de Vignerolles jewels. Now let us
choose a place."

They went out into the shrubbery at the side of the house, and fixed
upon a spot within forty or fifty paces of the trunk of a large tree.

"We will bury the things here."

"Do it at night, Melanie."

"Certainly; we will come down, as we have done now, when the house
is all asleep. We will get a shovel during the day, and hide it in
readiness. We won't forget the signals. Of course we shall not want to
see you unless, which is not likely, our father consents to leave the
country with us."

"I fear that is hopeless indeed, Melanie; still there is a possibility;
and if I see the signal you may be sure that I shall be up here the
same evening."

They had by this time returned to the window. "I must be off now," he
said; "we have captured a valuable prize to-day, and I shall be anxious
about her safety until we are alongside of her again. Keep a sharp
look-out for us. When I do come I shall try to pass along the coast
here between ten and eleven o'clock in the morning, so that you will
know when to look out for me. God bless you both. I wish that I could
get a month's leave and stay here; then I could make pretty sure of
saving you and your mother."

"Good-bye, Peter. If we never see you again we shall remember to the
last how kind you were and how you did your best to save us."

He kissed them both for the first time, and as he knew, perhaps for
the last. He then, as they closed the window, turned and ran hastily
away, with his cheeks wet with tears. He had been gone little over two
hours when he again reached the shore and hailed the boat. Two men
were on watch, and the rest, who were stretched in the bottom, at once
scrambled up. The grapnel was speedily hauled in and the boat rowed to
shore. Peter jumped in.

"Back all," he said; "now pull bow and three, then lay out, for I want
to be on board as soon as I can."

"We were not expecting you back so soon, sir," the man who was rowing
the stroke oar said apologetically, "or else we should all have been on
the look-out."

"No; I have been fortunate, and have not been more than half the time I
expected to be."

As soon as he was on board, the anchor was run up to the bow, the sails
hoisted, and the _Alert_ was under way again. Peter went to the wheel.

"Be very careful with your steering," he said; "the course is
south-east by south, a half south. They will not have shown her lights
by the time we get there, so we must mind that we don't miss her."

When he judged that they were within a couple of miles of the barque,
the same signal was hoisted that the latter was to have shown, and
a minute later two lights appeared straight ahead of them, and they
presently heard the clank of the windlass.

"Nothing happened, Mr. Harding?"

"No, sir, all has been quiet. The prisoners have tried the door once or
twice, and I had to threaten to fire through it; since then they have
been quiet. We made you out just before you showed your lights, and it
was a relief when you did so; for although you were coming from the
right direction it might have been an enemy, and I had just told the
men to stand to quarters."

"Quite right; and now is your anchor up?"

"Yes, it is at the cat-head, sir."

"Well, get sail on her as quickly as you can, and then steer east by
south. I will keep near you. You may as well show a light at your
stern."

Ten minutes later the vessels were both on the course given, and the
schooner under reduced sail following the prize. By twelve o'clock
the next day they were off Toulon, with the Isles of Hyères ahead of
them. When off the most southern of these they lay to. The wind was now
very light, and they had during the last half-hour made but little way
through the water.

"They are signalling on that island," Harding said.

"Yes, I see they are, Harding. If I had known that the wind was going
to drop so light I would have kept farther off. The worst of it is,
that what tide there is, has just turned against us, and the wind is
dropping every minute. In half-an-hour it will be a stark calm, and
I should not be surprised if they send gunboats out from Toulon when
they hear that a schooner and a barque, the latter probably a prize,
are lying here becalmed. If so, we shall have to fight for it. Johnson,
take my glass, and go up to the mast-head and see if you can make out
the _Tartar_."

"I can see the top-sails of a square-rigged craft some twenty miles
away, sir; I have no doubt that it is the _Tartar_."

"Is there any sign of wind?"

"No, sir, there does not seem to be a cat's-paw on the water anywheres."

"This is an awkward place to be becalmed, Harding," Peter said to the
midshipman, who had just rowed on board from the barque. "If it were
not for the prize we might get all the men in the boats and tow the
schooner. We could get two and a half knots out of her, I should
say, with the three boats ahead, but we can't tow her and the barque
too; and I don't suppose that all hands would take that craft through
the water more than a knot an hour, and divided between us the gain
would be so little that it would not be worth while fatiguing the men.
There is one thing, it is some thirty miles from where we are lying
to Toulon, and as likely as not the naval people there won't think it
worth while to send a gunboat out here when a breeze may spring up
before they are half-way out. It is not as if it were in summer, when
a calm will last for a week. Before an hour has passed we may have the
wind coming down from the north with strength enough to take our mast
out of us. No, I should say that the chances are that they will leave
us alone, unless there happens to be a gunboat or two lying somewhere
in shelter among these islands."

Half-an-hour later the look-out at the mast-head hailed again--

"It seems to me that there is a dark line coming across the water from
the north, sir, and some fishing-boats close in shore have just lowered
some of their sails."

"You had better go on board again at once, Harding; take five more men
with you; we can manage very well with fifteen here. Get her royals and
topgallant-sails furled, and it will be as well if you take a reef in
your top-sails too. These squalls come down desperately hard, though
they don't last long. We will keep together. If by any chance we get
separated, make for Genoa--that is, if you cannot join the _Tartar_.
However, I hope that it is not going to blow as hard as all that. I
want to hand her over as soon as I can."

Five men were ordered into the boat, and in a couple of minutes they
were on board the barque, which was lying only a few lengths away. Sail
was shortened on board both vessels, and in a quarter of an hour they
were under very reduced canvas. Peter ran up the ratlines for some
distance.

"It is coming along like a racehorse, Mr. Harding," he shouted. "You
had better put two or three men in a boat alongside, and get her head
round, so that it will take her aft."

The vessels were still becalmed, and although the white line of water
was still a mile away, the sound of the ripple was plainly perceptible.
The schooner's head was also taken round, and both craft were ready
for the squall when it struck them. It was well that they had been
got round in time, for lying motionless they might have been capsized
before they could get way on them, had they been caught broadside to
the wind. As it was, both were driven down until the water almost came
over the bows; then as they gathered way they sprang forward.

"I don't think that it is going to last long, Jamieson," Peter said to
the gunner's mate.

"No, I don't think so, sir; these squalls which begin so hard generally
blow themselves out in half-an-hour, or else settle down into a steady
breeze."

After running for half-an-hour the squall had so far abated that they
were put on their course again, and ran rapidly down to the frigate,
the wind dropping gradually, until when within a mile of the _Tartar_,
which was still lying becalmed, it left them altogether. Peter ordered
eight men into the cutter with the tow-rope, Harding did the same, and
after an hour's rowing the craft were within hailing distance of the
_Tartar_. Peter got into the boat and was rowed on board.

"So you have taken a prize I see, Mr. Vignerolles," the captain said.

"Yes, sir, and she is a valuable one; she is loaded with colonial
products, coffee, sugar, tobacco, and so on. I thought that I had
better bring her straight to you, for I should have weakened my crew
too much if I had sent her down to Gibraltar. I have brought her
manifest on board. She is a new vessel, and carries twelve guns. We
took her by surprise without a blow being struck. This is the report
of her capture," and he handed the document that he had written out,
together with the ship's papers, to the captain. The latter glanced
down both papers.

"Very smartly done, Mr. Vignerolles, the surprise was very well
managed; for had they had a suspicion that you were an enemy, it might
have cost you some hard fighting before you took her, as her guns are
heavier than yours are, and her crew stronger; besides, you might have
knocked her about, and as she is a new vessel that would have been a
pity. She is a very valuable prize. I suppose you want me to take her
in charge, and to let you have your crew again?"

"If you please, sir; we are not very strong-handed now, and if I had to
put men on board another prize I should be quite crippled--even now I
can hardly work all my guns."

The captain smiled. "That is to say that you would like ten more men,
Mr. Vignerolles?"

"I should indeed, sir, if you would be kind enough to give them to me."

"Well, as you have brought us in a prize worth, I should say at least,
twenty thousand pounds, I think that I must let you have them. How
about your prisoners?"

"They are shut up in the fo'castle, sir; we have a heavy coil of rope
against the door. Mr. Harding tells me that they have tried to break
out twice, and that he has had to threaten to fire upon them."

"We will take charge of them."

The master and mate with fifteen men were at once sent on board the
prize. Harding with his crew returned to the schooner, and ten more
men from the frigate were sent on board her. Then the _Alert_ dipped
her ensign and laid her course west; while the frigate, escorting the
prize, headed south-west, as the captain intended to see her well past
the French coast before he left her; for although no French men-of-war
had, so far as he had learned, put out from Toulon, it was certain that
French privateers would very soon be fitted out to prey upon British
commerce. The breeze had sprung up again, and the schooner, slipping
fast through the water, soon drew away from the others. A large ship
was seen coming out from Toulon, but the _Alert_, sailing much faster,
soon lost sight of her. Four days later, returning from the westward,
the _Alert_, rounding a headland, came in sight of the château. Peter
uttered an exclamation as his eye fell upon her, and he caught up the
glass.

"Good Heavens, Harding, the château is on fire, there is smoke pouring
out of two of the lower windows, and--Yes, I can make out a white sheet
or something outside the window where the signal was to be shown. I am
afraid the château is in the hands of those ruffians of Marseilles. No
doubt, directly they were seen coming the girls hung it out, though
they would know that we should not be along here until eleven o'clock.
Probably the place was taken some hours ago. You may be sure that the
scoundrels would not set it on fire until they had sacked it from top
to bottom. The only chance is that they may be hiding somewhere near
the shore."

He threw the schooner up into the wind, and for an hour she lay there
while the two midshipmen examined every stone and tree near the water
through their glasses, but without seeing the slightest sign of any one
hiding there.

"It is no use waiting any longer," Peter said at last. "If they had
escaped before the place was taken they would have been here long ago,
and would, of course, have signalled as soon as they saw us. We will
make straight out to sea for the present, we can do nothing until it
gets dark. I don't know, though. Put her head to the west again; I must
go and see what is going on up there, and must run the risk of being
caught. There is a battery in the next bay, and two or three villages
farther on, so I must go at once. Get a boat down with four hands in
it, while I run down and put on that fishing suit again. As soon as you
pick the boat up make out to sea, and be here again at seven. Don't
send the boat ashore unless you see me come down to the water's edge.
If I am not there, stand off again, and come back two hours later; I
may be detained. If I am not there then, come back at ten o'clock and
send a boat in. Unless I come off then, you will know that I have got
into some sort of mess. Cruise along as usual, and don't come back till
evening the day after to-morrow. Then if I am not there, you had better
find the _Tartar_, tell the captain that I went on shore to see if I
could get my friends out of the hands of these scoundrels, and that as
I have not returned I must certainly have been taken prisoner."

He ran down below and hastily put on his disguise, hid two brace of
pistols under the blouse, and went up again. The boat was already
alongside. Harding was examining the shore with his glass.

"I don't see a soul moving, sir."

"Throw her up into the wind at once; if you go any farther they will
make us out from the fort beyond the headland."

The sailors were armed with pistols and cutlasses. "Now, lads, take
me ashore as quickly as you can, so that I can get well into the wood
before any one who happens to see the boat come off can get there."

The sailors rowed at racing speed to the shore. All was still quiet.
Peter jumped on to the beach, bidding the men row back as fast as
they could; then he started at a quick run through the wood. When he
approached the château he saw a crowd of some four or five hundred men
in front of him. All were armed, some with muskets, others with pikes,
while some carried swords. Casks of wine had been brought up from the
cellars, and half-a-dozen of these had been broached, and the men were
gathered thickly round them.

"Drink away, you brutes," Peter muttered to himself. "I wish I could
drop a couple of handfuls of arsenic into each of those barrels--not
many of you would get back to Marseilles."

As Peter could speak French as well as English he had no fear of his
disguise being suspected, and he sauntered up boldly to the crowd. No
one paid any attention to him. It was natural enough that fishermen,
seeing the flames which were now pouring out from almost every window
in the house, should come up and see what was going on. Very many of
the crowd were already showing signs that their draughts had been deep
ones. They were shouting out scraps of the revolutionary songs; some
were howling, "Death to the aristocrats!" In front of the principal
entrance a pike was stuck up with a head upon it. Peter strolled
towards it, and, as he had feared, soon recognised the features of the
baron. Passing by, he came to the entrance; a dozen dead bodies were
lying there. It was evident that the baron had, as he said he would,
defended it with his servants, and that all had fallen, but not until
they had killed at least an equal number of their assailants. Looking
about he saw a small group of men standing apart from the house. He
directed his steps in that direction, and saw sitting on the ground in
their midst the baroness and her two daughters. One of the men who were
guarding them came up to him.

"Have you just come up from the sea, comrade?"

"Yes; we were in our boat and saw the flames, so I landed to see what
was the matter."

"You see the tyrant is dead. He has saved the guillotine trouble. As
for the women, justice will be done on them."

"No doubt, no doubt," Peter said; "but aristocrats though they are,
they were kind to tenants on their estate."

"Bah! when every sou had been wrung from them they flung a few back.
What goodness was there in that? The aristocrats must be stamped out
root and branch; they have fattened too long on the people."

"Yes, the de Vignerolles have been here a long time--hundreds of years
they say."

"Yes; think of that, draining the life-blood of France for hundreds of
years. However, it is our turn now. Well, by to-morrow morning they
will be lodged in the prison, to-morrow they will be tried, and the
next morning the guillotine will have the last word with them--we don't
waste time with these people. Go over there and get a drink--they have
got wine, the nobles have, while we who tend the vines are obliged to
drink water."

"When will you start, comrade?"

"Not for three or four hours yet. We left Marseilles at midnight, and
had well-nigh twenty miles to march, and the men must have a rest
before they go back."

Peter had now learned all that he wanted to know; but he felt that it
were better that he should linger for a while, so he sauntered across
to one of the groups. A cup of wine was held out to him by one of the
men who had installed himself as server.

"Drink death to all tyrants, my friend," he said.

"That will I heartily. 'Death to all tyrants,'" and he drank off the
wine.

"You will soon be on board a ship fighting the English," the Frenchman
said. "There was an order yesterday that all fishermen were to repair
at once to Toulon to man the ships there."

"We have not received it yet," Peter said; "but I for one shall not
be sorry to be on the deck of one of the ships of war now at Toulon.
Fishing is all very well, but that will soon be spoiled if the English
war vessels come cruising along the coast; besides, now all the
aristocrats are being killed, we shall get but poor prices for our
fish."

He remained for another half-hour watching what was going on. There was
scarce one of the crowd that had not some portion of the booty about
him; costly curtains, rich hangings, and even ladies' dresses were
wrapped round and round their bodies, or tied up so as to form scarves
over their shoulders. Some had made up bundles to be carried on their
muskets. One ruffian was swaggering along with the Baron's hat on his
head. Many had already lain down on the grass to sleep off the effects
of the wine and the fatigue of their night march. One party of men,
more drunk than others, had joined hand-in-hand, and were dancing round
the pike on which was the baron's head, singing a _Ça ira_. Peter's
fingers itched to grasp his pistols, but he restrained his fury until
he reached the farthest group, and then walked at a leisurely pace away
into the shrubbery.

As soon as he was out of sight he dashed off, and did not pause until
he reached the shore. The schooner was a mile away, heading straight
in. Glancing to the right, he saw a party of soldiers marching along
the beach. They evidently came from the fort beyond the headland, and
were about three or four hundred yards away from him. As he stopped
they halted, and were evidently watching the schooner. Without
hesitation he threw off his blouse and fisherman's boots, threw down
his pistols, and, running forward, stepped into the water. He went
easily for some twenty yards when he heard a shout and knew that he was
seen. He now swam his hardest, and by the time the soldiers came up,
was sixty or seventy yards from shore. They at once opened fire; but
he dived and swam straight on under water, coming up occasionally to
breathe, and then diving again until he was a couple of hundred yards
out, and beyond the reach of any chance ball. The schooner was now
thrown up into the wind, and a boat had been lowered, and was rowing
towards him. The schooner was, as usual, flying the French flag. In a
few minutes the boat came up and took him in.

[Illustration: "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 take post 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 they set 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 the
_Alert's_ head 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
only have 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
greater part 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."

[Illustration: "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.
There was 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 hair hung 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.

[Illustration: "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 muskets flashed 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 the level 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 bring the 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 enough to 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 the _Alert_, 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
the _Tartar_ will 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."

[Illustration: "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 now in 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 the _Alert_ were 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 captain
brought 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 the _Tartar_ ran 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 the _Tartar_ opened fire upon her. When the _Tartar_ came
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 the _Alert's_ men 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 the _Tartar_ then 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 the _Alert_ were
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 the _Tartar_ he handed it to
the captain, 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.



