CHAPTER IX

THE _TROIS FRÈRES_ OF CAEN

But Fortune, after whom Fortuné de la Vireville had been somewhat ironically named, had all his life taken away with one hand what she had given him with the other. So now she granted to him to get clear of the town of Abbeville, to find unmolested the way to St. Valéry, to meet thereon none to question or stay him, to arrive there a little before six, when the life of the small port was already bustling, to perceive, lounging on the quayside, a seafaring individual whose countenance seemed to promise accessibility to a bribe . . . and to overhear, at that very moment, a piece of news which made all attempt at bribing him useless. For it was quite clear, from a conversation going on, within easy earshot, between two master mariners, one of whom had evidently just come into harbour, that the greater part of the Brest squadron had come up in the night, and was even now cruising between Dieppe and Boulogne.

"Nine sail of the line, and I don't know how many frigates." Was ever such ill-luck! The fugitives were clean cut off, that way, from the shores of England, while on the road behind them were hastening, or would shortly hasten, the justly-incensed officials of the town of Abbeville. La Vireville knew an instant's real despair, and his fingers tightened involuntarily on the small hand in his. They _must_ get back to England. But they could not--at least not by the way of his choice, the most direct and obvious way, the Channel. That path was barred before them. Of course there was another road. If they could only reach that outpost of England, Jersey! But it was the deuce of a long journey, and since the sea was now denied them, they must go by land till they reached the coast of the Cotentin, a far more hazardous route, armed though La Vireville now was with the fairly extensive powers conveyed to him by M. Duchâtel's papers. . . . Well, they must make the best of a bad business, and the first step was to remove themselves from the harbour, where curious glances were already beginning to be cast at him and his small companion. He must leave as few traces as possible for the inquirers from Abbeville when they came.

La Vireville was, in fact, actually turning away from the shed by which they were standing, when his eyes fell on a vessel at the quayside which he had not previously noticed, a schooner-rigged barque of some three hundred tons burthen, on whose broad stern, surrounded by flourishes, could be read her name and port of origin--the _Trois Frères_ of Caen. It was this legend which caused him suddenly to stay his steps and to give vent to a murmured exclamation. What if the fleet of the Republic _were_ cruising along the coast from Dieppe to Boulogne! With his face set, not for England, but for a more westerly French port, and the tricolour floating over him, he could pass unscathed through that fleet even if it were encountered. They would go to Caen--if the barque were shortly putting to sea and if the captain would take them. And from Caen, ten or twelve hours' posting would bring them to the shore of the Cotentin, to Granville, or to Carteret, the nearest port of all France to Jersey. It was an excellent scheme, could it be put in practice, and one possessing an advantage of its own, that by taking to the water at once they would have a very good chance of breaking the scent.

La Vireville looked carefully at what he could see of the _Trois Frères_. A certain subdued bustle among her small crew seemed to indicate an early departure, which was good. The next problem was the mind of the captain. If that were he, red-faced, blue-eyed, standing near the rail with a pipe in his mouth and occasionally issuing an order, he looked as if he might be open to persuasion. At least the attempt should be made.

All this while Anne-Hilarion had stood patiently, his hand in his rescuer's, asking no questions, and evidently little disposed, after his unwonted night, to take an interest even in the shipping. The émigré bent down to him.

"Anne," he said in a low voice, "I am going to ask the man on that ship to take us to Caen. We cannot go straight to England, as I had hoped. Now you must be sure to bear me out in what you hear me say, even if it is not exactly true. I shall have, I think, to pretend that you are my nephew, so you must remember to call me uncle--never anything else. Very likely I shall pretend also that we live at Caen. You must not say anything about England. You understand, little one?"

"Yes," replied Anne-Hilarion, lifting a rather grimy and pallid face. Then he gave a little sigh, as one who makes a reluctant sacrifice of truth to necessity. And indeed he was a very truthful child; yet La Vireville more correctly interpreted his emotion.

"You want your breakfast, mon petit, do you not? Never mind, you shall soon have it. Only help me to soften the heart of this sea-captain."

And, approaching the _Trois Frères_, the émigré hailed the smoker.

"Are you the master of this ship, citizen?"

The sailor removed his pipe. "Mate," he replied laconically. "Master just coming aboard." He indicated with the stem of his pipe another mariner, also red-faced and blue-eyed, who was making his way round a pile of timber towards the gang-plank. Him La Vireville intercepted, hastily filling up in his own mind the gaps in the story designed for his edification, since here Duchâtel's papers were not likely to be of much avail.

"Captain," he began enthusiastically, taking off his hat, "the Supreme Being has surely sent you to a fellow-creature in need!"

The master of the _Trois Frères_ grunted. "Le bon Dieu is good enough for a plain sailor like me," he responded, and the émigré perceived that he had overshot the mark. "What do you want?"

"I want to go to Caen," returned La Vireville simply. "I and my little nephew here. Can you give us a passage?"

The master of the _Trois Frères_ regarded La Vireville and his nephew. "No," he replied, with equal simplicity. "Why should I? I'm a trading vessel, not a packet."

The petitioner came nearer and dropped his voice. "If you will grant me the favour of a word or two in private," he said, "I will tell you why I ask. It is for a most pressing family matter--an affair, I may say, almost of life and death . . . and an affair of haste."

"Come on board then," said the master-mariner briefly, and led the way over the gang-plank to the cabin.

It was that neat little cabin with its shining brass fittings, therefore, which witnessed the apotheosis of the Chevalier de la Vireville as a liar. Even at the time a part of himself was watching the other, the speaking half, with an amused wonder, as he unfolded his tale, recounting how he was hastening, or wished to hasten, to Caen on this most pressing family matter. He had sent Anne-Hilarion to the other end of the cabin, and himself sat, with the captain, at the table in the middle.

"The fact is," he said in lowered tones, after a short exordium, "that my brother's wife has run away from him, and we have reason to believe that she has gone to Caen."

"With her lover, I suppose," finished the sailor bluntly.

"No," said La Vireville; "that is the whole point. My brother believes that he has not yet joined her, though on the way to do so. Hence, citizen, my need of haste. I want to arrive at Caen before it is too late, and to that end I am taking my brother's little son with me to plead his father's cause, and to see if he cannot persuade his unfortunate mother to return."

It was only because he felt sure that Anne, however willing he might be, would inevitably make a slip if required constantly to address him as Papa, that La Vireville had cast himself for the part of uncle in this speedily-imagined drama. Otherwise he might have played the part of the stricken husband rather than that of the sympathetic brother. Indeed, there would have been an advantage in the former rôle, for it would have spared him the captain's next and very natural question:

"Why the deuce does not your brother go after his wife himself?"

La Vireville made a gesture, and throwing his brother from a restive horse some seven days ago, remorselessly broke his leg.

"Where does he live, did you say?"

The émigré domiciled him distantly at Lyons, creating him at the same time a lawyer.

"I know Lyons well," observed the mariner unexpectedly. "You are an affectionate brother, citizen, and you have certainly made extraordinary speed if you have come from Lyons since that leg was broken a week ago."

This was unfortunately true, and La Vireville was forced to assign a date a little more remote to the accident, and to say he had made a slip of the tongue, proceeding afterwards to lay stress on the speed which the lover also might be presumed to be using.

"Well, my friend," remarked the sailor, "speed was never a characteristic of the _Trois Frères_. Moreover, I have a port or two of call, Dieppe among them. I cannot for the life of me see why you should not go to Caen by land, if you want to get there quickly. If you could post from Lyons to St. Valéry in--how many days did you say?--you ought to make Caen by nightfall!"

"Citizen captain," responded the harassed romancer earnestly, "speed, after all, is not everything in this case! Secrecy is even more important--let me explain to you how important, at this juncture." And he developed this theme, investing his brother's wife's lover with much money and influence, all of which he would use without scruple to circumvent the would-be rescuer, did he know his route. And, acutely conscious all the while of the improbability of his story, La Vireville concluded with a moving reference to the innocent child, about, perhaps, to lose his mother for ever, to the sanctity of the domestic hearth in danger of violation, and to the purity of moral principles inculcated by the glorious Republic. But the rhetoric which, a couple of years ago, would not have failed to move a demagogue who sent a daily score of heads to the guillotine, appeared to be without power over a peaceable and straightforward mariner. The orator indeed, feeling that he was wasting his time, and preparing in addition a net which would probably trip up his own feet, ceased at last disheartened.

His surprise was, therefore, all the greater when the master of the _Trois Frères_ said slowly, "Very well, I will give you a passage to Caen." He fingered his chin in a dubious sort of way, looking, however, at his guest with a blue directness of gaze which was anything but undecided, and which the latter could only hope that he was supporting with sufficient firmness. "I suppose your papers are all in order?" he added.

The crucial moment had arrived, for neither Duchâtel's papers nor his own could very well be made to bear out the Chevalier de la Vireville's story. But the latter laughed cheerfully. "For what do you take me, captain?" he replied. "Do you want to see them?" He began to thrust a hand into his breast.

"No, no! It's the business of the port officer, not mine. Too many papers and nonsense of that kind nowadays," said the sailor, who appeared to have conservative tendencies. "And, by the way, the port officer has already been aboard. Well, if there is any trouble later on, you must represent yourselves as stowaways. Down in the afterhold, you understand, and did not come out till we had cleared the river, and I was not going to delay by putting back to land you."

Nothing would have suited the voyager better than to live the life of a stowaway the whole time, especially if they were going to put into Dieppe, so he received this suggestion warmly. The captain then named his terms, and said he had a spare cabin which would do for his passenger and the boy; after which he slewed round in his chair and stared at Anne, who, kneeling on a locker, had his nose pressed to one of the small stern windows.

"Tell the child to come here," he said. "What is his name?"

"An . . . Annibal," replied La Vireville brilliantly, feeling that "Anne" savoured too much of the old régime, but not equal himself to calling him consistently by a name too dissimilar. "You will not, captain, out of humanity, mention his mother to him, nor why we are going to Caen? Annibal!"

Anne-Hilarion looked round, startled, at this unusual appellation, but seeing his friend's outstretched hand, understood and came. The captain studied his tired, sleepy, dirty little face, his tangled curls, his good but hastily put on clothes . . . and La Vireville had the sudden wonder whether those small kerseymere breeches that reached so nearly to his armpits bore inside the name of an English maker, or whether they were the work of Elspeth's fingers. Anyhow, the sailor was not likely to investigate the point.

"A little sea-air will do the child good," remarked the latter. "And a meal, I think, as soon as we are out of harbour, as we shall be before long. Don't you agree with me, my boy?"

("Why did I not tell Anne on no account to let fall a word of English?" thought La Vireville to himself. "But I do not suppose he will.")

No; for the Comte de Flavigny naturally responded to a query in French by an answer in the same tongue. And he said simply and politely:

"If you please, Monsieur."

"_Eh?_" ejaculated the seaman, and a gleam of speculation shot suddenly into his blue eyes. La Vireville felt as if he were sitting on a red-hot chair. He and the child between them had been a little unfortunate, with the Supreme Being on the one hand and that forbidden term of social address on the other--returning to use though it was among the upper classes.

The captain, however, merely shook his head.

"You seem old-fashioned, my boy," he remarked drily, and, rising, went to the door and called to the mate.

* * * * *

Some three-quarters of an hour later the _Trois Frères_ was warping slowly out of the basin, and La Vireville, immense relief in his heart, and the hungry Anne-Hilarion on his knee, was giving the child, as they awaited breakfast, a further lesson in the things that he was not to say.