‘Poor wretches,’ said Hobbs; ’they scarce know friend from foe, and are slow to run their heads into the lion’s mouth.  Strange fellows have the impudence to sail under our flag at times.’

However, as they neared the low, flat, sandy shore, a few red caps peeped out at the cottage-doors, and then, apparently gaining confidence from the survey, some wiry, active figures appeared, and were hailed by Hobbs.  His Bordeax trade had rendered him master of the coast language; and a few incomprehensible shouts between him and the natives resulted in a line being thrown to them, and the boat dragged as near as possible to the landing-place, when half a dozen ran up, splashing with their bare legs, to offer their shoulders for the transport of the passengers, both of whom were seized upon before they were aware, Philip struggling with all his might, till a call from Captain Hobbs warned him to resign himself; and then he became almost helpless with laughter at the figure cut by the long-legged Berenger upon a small fisherman’s back.

They were landed.  Could it be that Berenger was only two miles—­ only half an hour’s walk form Eustacie?  The bound his heart gave as he touched the shore seemed to stifle him.  He could not believe it.  Yet he knew how fully he had believed it, the next moment, when he listened to what the fishermen were saying to Captain Hobbs.

’Did Monsieur wish to go to La Sablerie?  Ah! then he did not know what had happened.  The soldiers had been there; there had been a great burning.  They had been out in their boats at sea, but they had seen the sky red—­red as a furnace, all night; and the steeple was down.  Surely, Monsieur had missed the steeple that was a guide to all poor seafarers; and now they had to go all the way to Brancour to sell their fish.’

‘And the townspeople?’ Hobbs asked.

’Ah! poor things; ’twas pity of them, for they were honest folk to deal with, even if they were heretics.  They loved fish at other seasons if not in Lent; and it seemed but a fair return to go up and bury as many of them as were not burnt to nothing in their church; and Dom Colombeau, the good priest of Nissard, has said it was a pious work; and he was a saint, if any one was.’

‘Alack, sir,’ said Hobbs, laying his hand on the arm of Berenger, who seemed neither to have breathed nor moved while the man was speaking:  ’I feared that there had been some such bloody work when I missed the steeple.  But take heart yet:  your lady is very like to have been out of the way.  We might make for La Rochelle, and there learn!’ Then, again to the fisherman, ‘None escaped, fellow?’

‘Not one,’ replied the man. ’they say that one of the great folks was in a special rage with them for sheltering the lady he should have wedded, but who had broken convent and turned heretic; and they had victualled Montgomery’s pirates too.’

‘And the lady?’ continued Hobbs, ever trying to get a more supporting hold of his young charge, in case the rigid tension of his limbs should suddenly relax.’