Lauriston told me, amongst other anecdotes relating to Napoleon’s sojourn at the camp at Boulogne, a remarkable instance of intrepidity on the part of two English sailors.  These men had been prisoners at Verdun, which was the most considerable depot of English prisoners in France at the rupture of the peace of Amiens.  They effected their escape from Verdun, and arrived at Boulogne without having been discovered on the road, notwithstanding the vigilance with which all the English were watched They remained at Boulogne for some time, destitute of money, and without being able to effect their escape.  They had no hope of getting aboard a boat, on account of the strict watch that was kept upon vessels of every kind.  These two sailors made a boat of little pieces of wood, which they put together as well as they could, having no other tools than their knives.  They covered it with a piece of sail-cloth.  It was only three or four feet wide, and not much longer, and was so light that a man could easily carry it on his shoulders,—­so powerful a passion is the love of home and liberty!  Sure of being shot if they were discovered, almost equally sure of being drowned if they effected their escape, they, nevertheless, resolved to attempt crossing the Channel in their fragile skiff.  Perceiving an English frigate within sight of the coast, they pushed off and endeavoured to reach her.  They had not gone a hundred toises from the shore when they were perceived by the custom-house officers, who set out in pursuit of them, and brought them back again.  The news of this adventure spread through the camp, where the extraordinary courage of the two sailors was the subject of general remark.  The circumstance reached the Emperor’s ears.  He wished to see the men, and they were conducted to his presence, along with their little boat.  Napoleon, whose imagination was struck by everything extraordinary, could not conceal his surprise at so bold a project, undertaken with such feeble means of execution.  “Is it really true,” said the Emperor to them, “that you thought of crossing the sea in this?”—­“Sire,” said they, “if you doubt it, give us leave to go, and you shall see us depart.”—­“I will.  You are bold and enterprising men—­I admire courage wherever I meet it.  But you shall not hazard your lives.  You are at liberty; and more than that, I will cause you to be put on board an English ship.  When you return to London tell how I esteem brave men, even when they are my enemies.”  Rapp, who with Lauriaton, Duroc, and many others were present at this scene, were not a little astonished at the Emperor’s generosity.  If the men had not been brought before him, they would have been shot as spies, instead of which they obtained their liberty, and Napoleon gave several pieces of gold to each.  This circumstance was one of those which made the strongest impression on Napoleon, and he recollected it when at St. Helena, in one of his conversations with M. de Las Casas.