The colours had long since faded out of the sky, and the bank of clouds in which the sun had set was creeping heavily up the west.  Both sky and sea were gray and shadowy.  The sea was flawed with dark blurrs of sudden squalls, and the waves broke harsh and white on La Grune and Bec du Nez.

The six boats came on with steady venom.  They kept well out round Bec du Nez, and we ran across the broken ground to meet them on the other side of the Island, and lay down there by the Senechal’s orders.

There was always the chance that they were making straight for the French coast.  It would have been well for some of them if they had.  That hope died as they turned inside the Pecheresse rock and came sweeping down towards Eperquerie landing.

We could see them better now, and estimate our chances.  Three of the boats were of large size, holding ten to twelve men each, and carrying a small carronade in the bows.  The others held six to eight, and they were all as evil and scowling a set as ever I set eyes on.

“They will try here,” said Amice Le Couteur.  “I will warn them once not to land, then do you be ready to fire.  Take advantage of the rocks, and let no man expose himself unnecessarily.”

They came thrashing along, with no show of order but much of the spirit that was in them.  There is no dog so ready to snap at anything that offers as the one that is running from a fight.  Their lust for mischief came up to us in hoarse growls and curses, and tightened our grip on our weapons.

The first boat ground on the shingle, and the next ran in alongside before the oars were unshipped, and the wind was thick with curses on their clumsiness.  The landing between the rock is a narrow one, and no more than two could come in at once.  The others had to wait outside.

The rascals were beginning to tumble ashore, when Amice Le Couteur stood up and cried, “Stop there!  If you land it is at your peril.  We will not have it.”

Those who were landing turned their black faces upwards in surprise, for they had not seen us.  But from one of the waiting boats behind, half a dozen shots rang out in a sudden blaze of light, and the Senechal fell back among us, and our men began a hot fire at the boats from behind their rocks.

I ran to M. Le Couteur, as I had no weapons but a cutlass and pistols, and these were only for close work.  He was bleeding in the head and chest, but said he thought the wounds were not serious.

“See that some of them don’t slip away to the Creux or Dixcart, while we’re busy with the others here, Carre,” he said, as I tied up his head with his own kerchief, and then dragged him down into a little hollow where no shots could reach him.

There was much cursing and shouting down below, and a satisfactory amount of groaning also, and our men fired and loaded without stopping and said no word.  The landing-place and the rocks above were thick with smoke, which came swirling up in great coils, so that I could see nothing, though I could hear enough and to spare.