Their intelligence being penetrated with some notion of the exceeding danger of our situation, the noisy ones kept silence and agreed to follow my behests.  This threw on me a task of great hazard and responsibility, for we were strangers in a strange land, and I had no knowledge of our whereabouts, nor a clearly defined plan of action.  Gathering them in a knot about me, so that all could hear my lowest whisper, I put to them the situation as I conceived it.

“By God’s mercy we have succeeded thus far,” I said, “but the greatest of our dangers lie still before us.  I know nothing of this country, nor does any of us, and in a few hours day will dawn, our escape will be discovered, and there will be a hue and cry after us for miles around.  What we want to do is to make the coast and borrow a boat in which we may set sail for England.”

“Ay, ay,” was the general grunt.

“Ay, indeed,” I went on, “but we know not in what direction the coast lies, nor would it be safe for us to attempt to reach it yet.  When our absence is known, the Frenchmen will assuredly suspect that the coast will be our aim, and they will have it watched for miles, so that even if we found a boat and got to sea (in which we might fail), we should certainly be espied and chased and caught.  What we must do, as it seems to me, is to strike into the country and find a hiding place where we may lie until the first alarm has passed, and then endeavor by some means to learn of a secluded fishing hamlet whither we may steal our way by night.  Can you suggest a better plan?”

For a brief space there was silence; then the bosun said: 

“If we can not tell the way to the coast, neither can we know if we be going inland, and so we may stumble into the very danger we ought to avoid.”

“There is the north star above us,” I replied, “and by going south it would appear that we shall go away from the sea.  I propose, then, that we turn our backs on the star and march southward, trusting to find some wood or perchance some ruin where we may lurk a day or two.”

“And our bellies empty,” groaned Tolliday.

“Let us hope not,” I said.  “We may come upon some fruit gardens where we can find enough to keep us from starvation.  But if we must fast, then I warrant we, being Englishmen, can endure our pangs for a day.  Time is passing; ’tis gone midnight, if I guess right, and since move we must, I speak for moving at once.”

No other course suggesting itself, we set off, and, having the good luck to strike a road, we marched along in dogged silence for what must have been a couple of hours.  We passed but one house, and that was in total darkness, and if any person in it had been awake, our passage would not have been heard, for we were all barefooted but three, myself and two others.