As I walked along beside him I asked what was the occasion of the festal appearance of the town, and learned with a disagreeable shock that no other than the redoubtable Duguay-Trouin had that day put into the harbor on the vessel that lay at the jetty.

“A notable visitor, truly,” I said, feeling that I had run into a hornet’s nest.  “But surely that small vessel is not Monsieur Duguay-Trouin’s own ship, in which he works such havoc among the English.”

“To be sure, monsieur,” said the man, “that is an English prize.  His own ship lies in the offing there, towards the point; it draws too much water to come into our harbor.  And there is another prize out there too:  a big vessel, filled, so they say, with a valuable cargo.  Oh! without doubt Monsieur Duguay-Trouin is a hero, and the English tremble at his name.”

“And why has he honored your little town with a visit?” I asked.

“Why, Monsieur le Capitaine, it is because the English admiral Benbow appeared off St. Malo this morning with four great ships, and so Monsieur Duguay-Trouin could not carry his prize there, and indeed had to make all sail to escape.”

Here was news indeed!  It revived my drooping spirits; surely there must be a providence in the proximity of Benbow.  But I devoutly hoped I should not encounter Duguay-Trouin.  It was scarcely probable that he would recognize me in my new attire, having paid scant attention to me when I was among the prisoners on his deck, but I trembled to think of the risk we all ran.

“Here is the mairie,” said my guide, stopping at a house above which a flag was flying.

I thanked him, and whispering Punchard to keep an eye on the Frenchmen, and especially on the wagoner, I stepped boldly in and confronted the maire, a little man with a cocked hat over his gray wig.

“Good evening, monsieur,” I said pleasantly.

The maire rose from his seat and returned my greeting.

“I am taking some deserters to Cherbourg, monsieur,” I continued, “and I must beg of you to provide me tomorrow with a smack to convey them thither.”

For the moment I said nothing about the prisoners.

“A smack, monsieur!” said the maire.  “But it is foolish.  Does not monsieur know that four English warships are in the neighborhood?  Monsieur would run great risk of being captured.  I would recommend that monsieur march to Cherbourg; he would then go quite safely.”

“That is perfectly true, monsieur,” I said pleasantly’, “but it is a long and wearisome road; my men are already greatly fatigued by their march from Rennes.  The passage by sea would be much easier and more comfortable, and moreover cheaper, and it is the duty of all good Frenchmen to save his majesty expense.”

I could see that the maire was nettled.  His reluctance to accede to my demand was due, not so much to his fears for our safety—­for Benbow had higher game to fly at than a fishing vessel—­as to his indisposition to provision us for the voyage.  Maybe he had had some experience of the same sort before, and knew that, whatever receipts might be given him for commodities supplied, he had little chance of being reimbursed for such services rendered to King Lewis.  No doubt it was some recent soreness that prompted his reply to my remark about all good Frenchmen.