to venture on the undertaking, were speedily on deck. We hauled up the boat, and silently took our seats on the thwarts. I pulled the after oar; La Motte steered and acted as captain; indeed, had it not been for him we could not have made the attempt. It was a hazardous affair, for we might have to encounter another guard-boat, and we had to pass among a number of vessels on our way to the mouth of the harbour.

"If we are seen, I hope that we may be mistaken for the guard-boat," said La Motte, as we were preparing to shove off. "Now, my lads, shove off, and try and row as much like Frenchmen as you can." The advice was not unnecessary, for the steady, measured pull of English men-of-war's-men would have inevitably betrayed us. The night was dark, but not sufficiently so to prevent us from distinguishing the outline of the harbour. Away we pulled, rapidly but with irregular strokes. We had to pass close to several privateers, but their crews were either on shore or drunk, and no notice was taken of us. More than once it occurred to me, that although we should not have wished to run off with the vessel of the people who had treated us so well, yet that we might be able successfully to cut out one of the other craft brought up nearer the mouth of the harbour; but I reflected that the experiment would be too hazardous. Should we fail, we should in all probability lose our lives; as it was, we might well be contented with the advantages we possessed. We had a good boat, though she was small, an ample supply of provisions, fine weather, and a fair wind from the southward. We were about halfway down the harbour, when the sound of oars reached our

ears.

ESCAPE FROM THE HARBOUR.

317

A large ship was near us; we paddled softly in and lay close alongside under the shelter of her dark shadow. Not a sound was heard aboard her; every one was asleep. The noise of oars drew near; I trembled, lest some of her crew might be returning on board, and if they discovered us, all would be lost. We all listened, breathlessly; the sound of the oars passed by; it was the guard-boat continuing her rounds. Had we continued pulling a minute longer, we should have been discovered. I looked up as we lay on our oars; the sky was clear, the stars were twinkling brightly overhead; there seemed every probability of the fine weather continuing. In a couple of days at most we might hope once more to tread our native shores, and be free to go where we might wish. I need scarcely repeat all the anxious thoughts which crowded on my mind; the joy, the happiness unspeakable I anticipated. I would not, I dared not, dwell on the reverse. The sound of the oars was lost in the distance. La Motte gave a sign to us to shove off, and letting our oars glide into the water, we again continued our course. Our hearts beat quick as we approached the fort. The sharp tones of the sentry's challenge rung on our ears as he saw us passing. "Napoleon!" answered La Motte, promptly; another question was asked. "Victoire !" he replied. "We are ordered out by the captain of the port with a despatch to a vessel in the offing, I know no more."

"C'est bien !" you may pass, said an officer, whom the sentry's voice had summoned from the guard-room. We pulled on as before; away we glided; now we hoisted our sail. Gradually the fort was concealed by the darkness from our sight. We were free.

CHAPTER XIV.

Happy prospect of reaching England-Weather changes-Heavy gale-Expect to be lost-Days and nights of suffering-Our greatest comfort-A ship in sight-Disappointed again—Another ship appears-Our hopes and fears-A snow-storm-Get on board an emigrant ship-Carried far away from home-Death of shipmates.

ONCE clear of the harbour, without any sail in sight, we all gladly loosened our tongues. In spite of the cold of a winter's night, our spirits rose, and all hands laughed and chatted, and talked of what they would do when they got on shore. We had no necessity to look at our compass, for the stars enabled us to steer a course for the northward. With the wind as it was we thought that we should probably make the land somewhere about the Dorsetshire coast, should we not in the meantime fall in with any homeward-bound ship. From the position of St. Malo, on the coast of France, far down in the deep bay or bight, in which is found the islands of Jersey and Guernsey, it will be seen that we had a long voyage before us to perform in an open boat of so small a size and in the middle of winter. However, not one of us thought about that. By daylight we had made such progress, that we were completely out of sight of land. A difference of opinion now

HAPPY PROSPECT OF REACHING HOME. 319

arose among us.

La Motte very naturally wished to put into Guernsey. It was his own country; he knew it well, and he undertook to pilot us in there. Most of the men were anxious to stand on, as the breeze was fair, at once for the coast of England.

"Now, mates," said he, "just listen to what I have to say. If the wind continues fair, and we do not fall in with an enemy's cruiser, all well and good, we may hit some harbour, or we may beach the boat with safety, and get on shore; but now just look at the other side of the question. We may be picked up by an enemy, and as we are in a French boat with the name of her port on her stern, we shall be sent back from whence we have come, and be much worse off than if we had remained quiet aboard the lugger. That's one thing which may occur; or the wind may change, and a gale spring up, and instead of making the English coast in a couple or three days, as you expect, we may be swamped, or be knocked about for a week or ten days, and perhaps after all be driven back on to the coast of France. Now, what I Here is Guernsey on our starboard bow. there by to-morrow morning at farthest. who'll treat you kindly. You'd have time to look about you, and you'll have no fear of being pressed, whereas, if you land in England after all, before you get to your homes, you may find yourselves in the hands of a pressgang, and once more aboard a manof-war."

say is this?

We may be

I've friends

I thought that there was so much reason in what La Motte urged, that, anxious as I was to be in England, I could not help siding with him. All the rest of the men were, however, dead against us.

They had talked

so much of the delights of being on shore, that, in spite of all risks, they were unwilling that any delay should

occur.

"No, no; hurrah for old England!" they cried. "As long as the breeze holds, let us stand on. We are not likely to fall in with an enemy. If we see a stranger which looks suspicious, we'll douse sail, and let her pass by. The weather, too, looks fine. Why think of evils which may never occur?"

Perhaps La Motte and I did not resist as much as we might have done. At all events, we yielded to the wishes of the rest, and stood on. The day passed away pleasantly enough. The sun came out and shone brightly, and for the time of the year it was tolerably warm, so that all hands kept their spirits up, and, congratulating ourselves on our good fortune, we did not think of coming disaster. As is usual on such occasions, we soon got to telling the various adventures we had met with in our past lives. I have not here time to describe them, but I remember one remarkable thing was, that nearly all had been wrecked just as often as I had. Instead of looking at such disasters as punishments, they all agreed that they ought to consider themselves very fortunate in escaping, instead of losing their lives as had so many of their shipmates. I could not help thinking the same thing, and I now began to be more convinced than ever that I was mistaken in my youthful idea that a curse hung over me. When I came to consider the matter, I perceived that I had brought on myself nearly all the misfortunes which had happened to me, or they could be very clearly traced to ordinary causes, which had affected in most instances others as well as myself. I talked the subject over with La