Tom Burke Of Ours, Volume I

by Charles James Lever

  CHAPTER XX. THE FLIGHT

  "Are ye getting weak?" said Darby, as I staggered heavily against him,and gasped twice or thrice for breath. "Are ye bleeding still?" was hisnext question, while he passed his hand gently within the sash, and feltmy wound. I endeavored to mutter something in reply, to which he paidno attention; but stooping down, he threw me across his shoulder,and darting off at a more rapid pace than before, he left the morefrequented thoroughfare, and entered a narrow and gloomy alley,unlighted by a single lamp. As he hurried onward, he stopped more thanonce, as if in quest of some particular spot, but which in the darknesshe was unable to detect.

  "Oh, Holy Mother!" he muttered, "the blood is soaking through me! MasterTom, dear! Master Tom, my darlin' speak to me,--speak to me, acushla!"But though I heard each word distinctly, I could not utter one; a dreamystupor was over me, and I only wished to be left quiet. "This must beit; ay, here it is," said Darby, as he laid me gently down on the stonesill of the door, and knocked loudly with his knuckles.

  The summons, though repeated three or four times, was unheeded; andalthough he knocked loudly enough to have alarmed the neighborhood, andcalled out at the top of his voice, no one came; and the only sounds wecould hear were the distant cadences of a drinking song, mingled withwild shouts of laughter, and still wilder cries of agony and woe.

  "Here they are, at last!" said Darby, as he almost staved in the doorwith a heavy stone.

  "Who's there?" cried a harsh and feeble voice from within.

  "'Tis me, Molly; 'tis Darby M'Keown, Open quick, for the love of Heaven!here 's a young gentleman bleedin' to death on the steps."

  "Ugh! there 's as good as ever he was, and going as fast, too, herewithin," said the crone. "Ye must take him away; he would n't mind himnow for a king's ransom."

  "I 'll break open the door this minit," said Darby, with a horribleoath, "av ye don't open it."

  "Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the hag. "If ye wor Darby M'Keown, ye 'd know wellhow easy that is. Try it,--try it, acushla! oak timber and nails isable to bear all you'll do!"

  "See now," said Darby, dropping his voice to a whisper; "see, Molly,here 's five goold guineas for ye, av ye 'll let us in. 'T is a man'slife 's on it, and one I 'd give my own for twice over."

  "Av ye offered me forty," replied she, "I dar'n't do it. Ye don't knowthe sorrow that 's here this night; 't is Dan Fortescue is going. I 'mcoming, I 'm coming!" muttered she to some call from within. And then,without waiting to hear more, she shuffled back along the passage, andleft us once more alone.

  "There's nothing for it but this now," said Darby, as, retiring a fewpaces, he dashed his shoulder against the door with all his force; butthough a powerful man, and though every window rattled and trembled withthe tremendous shock, the strong panels withstood the stroke, and neveryielded in the least. "'T is no use firing through the lock," said he,in a tone of despair. "Blessed Joseph! what 's to be done?"

  As he spoke, the light tread of a barefooted child was heard coming upthe lane, and the same moment a little girl approached the door. Shecarried a cup in her hand, and held it carefully, as if fearful ofspilling its contents. As she neared the door, she seemed uncertain howto proceed, and at last, as if gaining courage, tapped twice at it withher knuckles.

  "Don't ye know me, Nora?" said Darby; "don't ye know Darby the Blast?"

  "Ah, Mister M'Keown, is this you? Ah, I'm afeard it 's little use thereis in coming here to-night; Mr. Fortescue's dying within, and DoctorKenagh can't leave him, I 'm bringing him this to take, but--"

  "Nora, dear," said Darby, "I 've a secret for Mr. Fortescue, and mustsee him before he dies. Here 's a crown, my darlin', and don't tell anyone I gave it to ye." Here he stooped down, and whispered rapidly somewords in her ear.

  "Who 's there?" broke in the hag 's voice from within. "'T is me; Nora,"said the child, boldly. "Are ye alone, there? do ye see any one aboutthe door?"

  "Sorra one. Can't you let me in out of the cowld?" "Come in quick,then," said the crone, as she opened the door carefully, and only wideenough to let the child pass; but the same instant Darby dashed forwardhis foot, and flinging the door full wide, seized me by the collar, anddragged me in after him, closing the door at once behind him.

  The screams of the hag, though loud and vehement, were as unheeded aswere Darby's own efforts to attract notice half an hour before.

  "Be quiet, I say; hush yer crying, or be the sowl o' the man that 'sdyin' I 'll dhrive a ball through ye." The sight of a pistol barrelseemed at last to have its effect, and she contented herself with a lowwailing kind of noise, as she tottered after us along the passage.

  The cold air of the street and the rest combined had given me strength,and I was able to follow Darby as he led the way through many a passageand up more than one stair.

  "Here it is," said the child, in a whisper, as she stopped at the doorof a room which lay half ajar.

  We halted in silence, and listened to the breathings of a man whoseshort, sobbing respiration, broken by hiccup, denoted the near approachof death.

  "Go on," cried a deep, low voice, in a tone of eagerness; "ye 'll nothave the cough now for some time."

  The sick man made no reply, but his hurried breathing seemed to showthat he was making some unwonted effort.

  At last he spoke, but in a voice so faint and husky, we could nothear the words. The other, however, appeared to listen, and by a straymonosyllable, dropped at intervals, to follow the tenor of his speech.At last the sound ceased, and all was still.

  "Go in now," said Darby, in a whisper, to the child; "I 'll follow you."

  The little girl gently pushed the door and entered, followed by M'Keown,who, however, only advanced one foot within the room, as if doubtingwhat reception he should meet with.

  By the uncertain light of a wood fire, which threw in fitful flashesits glare around, I perceived that a sick man lay on a mean-looking,miserable bed in one corner of a dark room; beside him, seated on a lowstool, sat another, his head bent down to catch the low breathings whichthe dying man gave forth from time to time. The heavy snoring sound ofothers asleep directed my eyes to a distant part of the chamber, where Isaw three fellows lying on the floor, partly covered by a blanket. Ihad barely time to see this much, when the figure beside the bed sprangforward, and in a low but menacing tone, addressed M'Keown.

  The last words only could I catch, as he said, "And if he wakes up, hemay know you still."

  "And if he does," said Darby, doggedly, "who cares? Isn't there as goodblood as his shed for the cause? Look here!"

  He dragged me forward as he spoke, and, tearing open my coat, pointed tothe sash that was now saturated with the blood that flowed at every stirfrom my wound. The other looked fixedly at me for a second or two, tookmy hand within his, and letting it fall heavily, he whispered a word toM'Keown, and turned away.

  "No, no!" cried Darby, violently. "By the holy Mass! ye 'll not trateme that way. Sit down, Master Tom," said he, as he forced me into anold armchair beside the fire. "Here, take a drink of water. Come here,doctor; come here, now; stop the bleeding. Stand by me this wonst, andby this--"

  Here he crossed his fingers before him, and looked fervently upwards.But at this instant the sick man sprang up in his bed, and looked wildlyabout him.

  "Isn't that Darby? isn't that M'Keown there?" cried he, as he pointedwith his finger. "Darby," he continued, in a low, clear whisper, "Darby,see here, my boy. You often said I 'd do nothing for the cause. Is thisnothing?" He threw back the bedclothes, as he spoke, and disclosed aghastly wound that divided his chest, exposing the cartilage of theribs, which stood out amid the welling blood that oozed forth with everyrespiration he made. "Is it nothing that I gave up rank, and place, andfortune; the broad acres that were in my family for three centuries; allmy hopes, all my prospects--"

  "And if you did," interrupted M'Keown, hastily, "you knew what for."

  "I knew what for!" repeated the sick man, as a deadly smile played uponhis livid face and curled his white lip.
"I know it now, at least. Toleave my inheritance to a bastard; to brand my name with disgrace anddishonor; to go down to the grave a traitor; and, worse still--"

  He shuddered violently here, and though his mouth moved, no sound cameforth; he sank back, worn out and exhausted.

  "Was he there," said Darby to the doctor, with a significant emphasis onthe word,--"was he there to-night?"

  "He was," replied the other. "He thinks, too, he fired the shot that didit; but, poor fellow! he was down before that. The boys brought him off.That child is going fast," continued he, as his eye fell upon me.

  "Look to him, then, and don't be losin' time," said Darby, fiercely."Look to him," he added more mildly, and "the Heavens will blessye! Here 's twenty goolden guineas,--it's all I've saved these eightyears,--here they 're for you, and save his life."

  The old man knelt down beside me, and slipping a scissors within thescarf that lay fastened to my side with clotted blood, he proceeded toopen and expose the situation of my wound. A cold, sick feeling, a kindof half-fainting sensation, followed this, and I could hear nothing ofthe dialogue that passed so near me. An occasional sting of pain shotthrough me as the dressing proceeded; but save this, I had littleconsciousness of anything.

  At length, like one awakening from a heavy slumber, with facultieshalf clouded by the dreamy past, I looked around me. All was still andmotionless in the room. The doctor sat beside the sick man's bed; andDarby, his eyes riveted on me, knelt close to my chair, and held hishand upon the bandage over my wound.

  A gentle tap here came to the door, and the child I had seen beforeentered noiselessly, and approaching the doctor, said, "the car is come,sir."

  The old man nodded in silence, and then, turning towards Darby, hewhispered something in his ear. M'Keown sprang to his legs at once, hischeek flushed deeply, and his eyes sparkled with animation.

  "I have it! I have it!" cried he, "There never was such luck for usbefore."

  With that he drew the old man to one side, and speaking to him in alow but rapid tone, evinced by the violence of his gestures and thetremulous eagerness of his voice how deeply he was interested.

  "True enough, true enough," said the old man, after a pause. "Poor Danhas but one more journey before him."

  "Is he able to bear it, doctor?" said Darby, pointing towards me withhis finger; "that's all I ask. Has he the strength in him?"

  "He'll do now," replied the other, gruffly; "there's little harm donehim this time. Let him taste that whenever you find him growing weak;and keep his head low, and there 's no fear of him."

  As he spoke, he took from a cupboard in the wall a small phial, whichhe handed to M'Keown, who received the precious elixir with as muchreverence as though it contained the very wellspring of human existence."And now," said Darby, "the less time lost now the better; it will soonbe daylight on us. Master Tom, can you rise, acushla? are you able tostand up?"

  I made the effort as well as I could, but my limbs seemed chained down,and even my arm felt like lead beside me.

  "Take him on your back," said the old man, hurriedly; "you 'll stay heretill sunrise. Take him downstairs, on your back, and when you have himin the open air, turn him towards the wind, and keep his head low,--mindthat."

  I made another attempt to stand up; but before I could effect it,Darby's strong arms were round my waist, and I felt myself lifted on hisshoulder and borne from the room, A muttered good-by passed betweenthe others, and Darby began to descend the stairs cautiously, while thelittle child went before with a candle. As the street door was opened, Icould perceive that a car and horse stood in waiting, accompanied by twomen, who, the moment they saw me, sprang forward to Darby's assistance,and helped to place me on the car. M'Keown was soon beside me, andsupporting my head upon his shoulder, he contrived to hold me in aleaning position, giving me at the same time the full benefit of thecool breeze, which already refreshed and restored me.

  The vehicle now moved on in darkness and in silence. At first our pacewas slow, but it gradually quickened as we passed along the quay; for assuch I recognized it by the dull sound of the river near us. The brightlamps of the greater thoroughfares soon made their appearance; and aswe traversed these, I could mark that our pace slackened to a walk,and that we kept the very middle of the wide street, as if to avoidobservation. Gradually we emerged from this, and, as I heard by the rollof the wheels, reached the outskirts of the town. We had not been manyminutes there when the horse was put to his speed, and the car whirledalong at a tremendous rate. Excepting a sense of weight and stiffnessin the side, I had no painful feeling from my wound; while the rapiditywith which we passed through the air imparted a sensation of drowsinessfar from unpleasant.

  In this state I scarcely was conscious of what passed about me. Now andthen some occasional halt, some chance interruption, would momentarilyarouse me, and I could faintly hear the sound of voices; but of whatthey spoke I knew nothing. Darby frequently questioned me, but my utmosteffort at reply was to press his hand. By times it would seem to me asthough all I felt were but the fancies of some sick dream, which themorning should dispel and scatter. Then I thought that we were flyingfrom an enemy, who pressed hotly on us, and gained at every stride;a vague, shadowy sense of some horrible event mingling with all, andweighing heavily on my heart.

  As the time wore on, my senses became clearer, and I saw that we weretravelling along the seaside. The faint gray light of breaking dayshed a cold gleam across the green water, which plashed with a mournfulcadence on the low, flat shore. I watched the waves as they beat with aheavy sough amid the scattered weeds, where the wild cry of the curlewmingled with the sound as he skimmed along the gloomy water, and myheart grew heavier. There is something--I know not what--terribly inunison with our saddest thoughts, in the dull plash of the sea at night:the loudest thunders of the storm, when white-crested waves risehigh and break in ten thousand eddies on the dark rocks, are not sosuggestive of melancholy as the sighing moan of the midnight tide.Long-buried griefs, long-forgotten sorrows, rise up as we listen; andwe feel as though that wailing cry were the funeral chant over cherishedhopes and treasured aspirations.

  From my dark musings I was roused suddenly by Darby's voice, asking ofthe men who sat at the opposite side how the wind was.

  "Westing by south," replied one; "as fair as need be, if there wasenough of it. But who knows, we may have a capful yet, when the sun getsup."

  "We 'll not have long to wait for that," cried the other; "see there!"

  I lifted my eyes as he spoke, and beheld the pink stain of coming dayrising above the top of a large mountain.

  "That's Howth," said Darby, seizing with eagerness the proof of myreturning senses.

  "Come, press on as fast as you can," said one of the men; "we must catchthe ebb, or we'll never do it."

  "Where does she lie?" said Darby, in a low whisper.

  "Under the cliffs, in Bolskaton Bay," said the last speaker, whom I nowperceived by his dress and language to be a sailor.

  My curiosity was now excited to the utmost to know whither we werebound; and with an effort I articulated the one word, "Where?"

  Darby's eyes brightened as I spoke; he pressed my hand firmly withinhis, but made no reply. Attributing his silence to caution, I pressedhim no further; and indeed, already my former indifference came back onme, and I felt listless as before.

  "Turn off there to the right," cried the sailor to the driver. Andsuddenly we left the highroad, and entered a narrow byway, which seemedto lead along the side of the mountain close to the water's edge. Beforewe had proceeded far in this direction, a long, low whistle was heardfrom a distance.

  "Stop there, stop!" said the sailor, as he knelt upon the car, andreplied to the signal. "Ay, all right; there they are," said he, as,pointing to a little creek between the rocks below us, we saw a smallrowboat with six men lying on their oars.

  "Can't he walk?" said the sailor, in a half whisper, as he stood besidethe car. "Well, let 's lose no more time; we 'll take him down
betweenus."

  "No, no," said Darby; "put him on my back; I 'll do it myself."

  "The ground's slippier than you take it," said the other; "my way 's thesafest."

  With that he lifted me from the car, and placing me between Darby andhimself, they grasped each other's hands beneath me, and soon began adescent which I saw would have been perfectly impracticable for one manto have accomplished with another on his back.

  During the time, my desire to know where they were bringing me againgrew stronger than ever; and as I turned to ask Darby, I perceived thatthe tears were coursing each other fast down his weatherbeaten cheeks,while his lips shook and trembled like one in an ague.

  "Mind your footing there, my man, I say," cried the sailor, "or you'llhave us over the cliff."

  "Round the rock to the left there," cried a voice from below. "That'sit, that's it; now you're all right. Steady there; give me your hand."

  As he spoke, two men advanced from the boat, and assisted us downthe sloping beach, where the wet seaweed made every step a matter ofdifficulty.

  "Lay him in the stern there; gently, lads, gently," said the voice ofone who appeared the chief amongst them. "That's it; throw those jacketsunder his head. I say, piper, ar'n't you coming with us?"

  But Darby could not speak one word. A livid pallor was over hisfeatures, and the tears fell, drop by drop, upon his cheek.

  "Master Tom," said he, at length, as his lips almost touched me, "mychild, my heart's blood, you won't forget poor Darby. Ye 'll be a greatman yet; ye 'll be all I wish ye. But will you remember a poor man likeme?"

  "Jump ashore there, my good fellow," cried the coxswain; "we'll haveenough to do to round the point before the tide ebbs."

  "One minit more, and God love ye for it," said Darby, in a voice ofimploring accent. "Who knows will we ever meet again; 't is the lasttime, maybe, I 'll ever look on him."

  I could but press his hand to my heart; for my agitation increased thedebility I felt, and every effort to speak was in vain.

  "One half minit more,--if it 's only that he 'll be able to say, 'Godbless you, Darby!' and I 'll be happy."

  "Push off, my lads!" shouted the sailor, sternly; and as he spoke theoars plashed heavily in the sea, and the boat rocked over with theimpulse. Twice the strong stroke of the oars sent the craft throughthe clear water, when the piper clasped his arm wildly around me, andkissing me on the cheek, he sprang over the side. The waves were nearlyto his shoulders; but in a few seconds he had buffeted through them, andstood upon the shore.

  With a last effort I waved my hand in adieu; and as I sank backexhausted, I heard a wild cry burst from him, half in triumph, half indespair. One glance more I caught of his figure as we stood out to sea;he was kneeling on the beach, bareheaded, and as if in prayer. The tearsgushed from my eyes as I beheld him, and the long pent up sorrow at lastbroke forth, and I sobbed like a child.

  "Come, come, my lad! don't feel downhearted," said the sailor, layinghis hand on my shoulder; "the world can scarce have been over roughto one so young as you are. Lift up your head, and see what a gloriousmorning we 've got! And there comes the breeze over the water. We hadn'tsuch weather the last time we made this trip, I assure you."

  I looked up suddenly; and truly never did such a scene of lovelinessmeet my eyes. The sun had risen in all his glorious brilliancy, andpoured a flood of golden light across the bay, tipping with a violet huethe far-off peaks of the Wicklow mountains, and lighting up the woodedvalleys at their feet. Close above us rose the rugged sides of Howth indark shadow; the frowning rocks and gloomy caverns contrasting with theglittering tints of the opposite coast, where every cottage and cliffsparkled in the dancing sunlight.

  As we rounded the point, a cheer broke from the men, and was answered atonce. I turned my head, and saw beneath the tall cliffs the taper sparsof a small vessel, from which the sails hung listlessly, half brailed tothe mast.

  "There she lies," said the skipper. "That 's the 'Saucy Sal,' my master;and if you're any judge of a craft, I think you 'll like her. Give way,lads,--give way; when that rock yonder 's covered, the tide is at theflood."

  The boat sprang to the strong jerk of their brawny arms, and in afew minutes glided into the little creek where the "Saucy Sal" lay atanchor.

  Lifting me up, they placed me on board the little vessel; while, withoutlosing a moment, they proceeded to ship the anchor and shake out thecanvas. In less than five minutes the white sails bent to the breeze,the water rustled at the prow, and we stood out to sea.

  "Where to?" said I, in a faint whisper, to the sailor who held thetiller beside me.

  "Down Channel, sir."

  "And then?" asked I once more,--"and then?"

  "That must depend on the revenue cruisers, I believe," said he, moregruffly, and evidently indisposed to further questioning.

  Alas! I had too little interest in life to care for where, and laying myhead upon my arm, fell into a heavy stupor for several hours.

  The hot sun, the breeze, the unaccustomed motion, and worse than all,the copious libations of brandy and water I was forced from time totime to take, gradually brought on fever; and before evening, a burningthirst and throbbing headache seized me, and my senses, that hithertohad been but lethargic, became painfully acute, and my reason began towander. In this state I remained for days, totally unconscious of theflight of time; frightful images of the past pursuing each other throughmy heated brain, and torturing me with horrors unspeakable.

  It was in one of my violent paroxysms I tore the bandage from my side,and reopening my half-healed wound, became in a moment deluged withblood. I have no memory of aught that followed; the debility of almostdeath itself succeeded, and I lay without sense or motion. To thiscircumstance I owed my life, for when I next rallied the fever had leftme, my senses were unclouded, my cheek no longer burned, nor did mytemples throb; and as the sea breeze played across my face, I drank itin with ecstasy, and felt once more the glorious sensations of returninghealth.

  It was evening; the faint wind that follows sunset scarce filled thesails as we glided along through the waveless sea. I had been listeningto the low, monotonous song of one of the sailors as he sat mending asail beside me, when suddenly I heard a voice hail us from the water.The skipper jumped on the halfdeck, and immediately replied. The wordsI could not hear, but by the stir and movement about me I saw somethingunusual had occurred, and by an effort I raised my head above thebulwark and looked about me. A long, low craft lay close alongside us,filled with men, whose blue caps and striped shirts struck me as strangeand uncommon, not less than their black belts and cutlasses, with whichevery man was armed. After an interchange of friendly greetings with ourcrew,--for such they seemed, although I could not catch the words,--shemoved rapidly past us.

  "There's their flotilla, sir," said the helmsman, as he watched my eyewhile it wandered over the water.

  I crept up higher, and followed the direction of his finger. Never shallI forget that moment. Before me, scarce as it seemed a mile distant,lay a thousand boats at anchor, beneath the shadow of tall sandhills,decorated with gay and gaudy pennons, crowded with figures whose brightcolors and glittering arms shone gorgeously in the setting sunlight. Thebright waves reflected the myriad tints, while they seemed to plash inunison with the rich swell of martial music that stole along the waterwith every freshening breeze. The shore was covered with tents, some ofthem surmounted with large banners that floated out gayly to the breeze;and far as the eye could reach were hosts of armed men dotted overthe wide plain beside the sea. Vast columns of infantry were there,--cavalry and artillery, too,--their bright arms glittering, and theirgay plumes waving, but all still and motionless, as if spellbound. As Ilooked, I could see horsemen gallop from the dense squares, and ridinghurriedly to and fro. Suddenly a blue rocket shot into the calm sky, andbroke in a million glittering fragments over the camp; the deep roar ofa cannon boomed out; and then the music of a thousand bands swelled highand full, and in an instant the whole plain was in m
otion, and the turftrembled beneath the tramp of marching men. Regiment followed regiment,squadron poured after squadron, as they descended the paths towards thebeach; while a long, dark line wound through the glittering mass, andmarked the train of the artillery, as with caissons and ammunitionwagons they moved silently over the grassy surface.

  All that I had ever conceived of warlike preparation was as nothing tothe gorgeous spectacle before me. The stillness of the evening air, madetremulous with the clang of trumpets and the hoarse roar of drums;the mirror-like sea, colored with the reflection of bright banners andwaving pennants; and then the simultaneous step of the mighty army,--sofilled up every sense that I feared lest all might prove the merepageant of a dream, and vanish as it came.

  "What a glorious sight!" cried I, at length, half wild with enthusiasm."Where are we?"

  "Where are we?" repeated the skipper, smiling. "Look out, and you 'llsoon guess that. Are those very like the uniforms of King George? Whendid you see steel breastplates and helmets before? This is France, mylad!"

  "France! France!" said I, stupefied with the mere thought.

  "Yes, to be sure. That 's the Army of England, as they call it, you seeyonder; they are practising the embarkation. See the red rockets! Therethey go,--three, four, five, six,--that's the signal. In less than halfan hour thirty thousand men will be ready to embark. Mark how they presson faster and faster! and watch the cavalry, as they dismount and leadtheir horses down the steep! See how the boats pull in shore! But, hallothere! we shall get foul of the gunboats,--already we 've run in tooclose. Down helm, my lad; keep the headland yonder on your lee."

  As he spoke, the light craft bent over to the breeze, and skipped freelyover the blue water. Each moment wafted us farther away from the brightscene, and soon a projecting point shut out the whole, save the swell ofthe brass bands as it floated on the breeze, and I might have believedit a mere delusion.

  "They practise that manoeuvre often enough to know it well," said theskipper, "sometimes at daybreak, now at noonday, and again, as we see,at sunset; and no one knows at what moment the attack that seems a feintmay not turn out to be real. But here we are now alongside; our voyageis ended."

  The anchor plashed from our bow, while a signal was made from the shoreand answered by us; and in an instant we were surrounded with boats.

  "Ha, Antoine!" cried a sous-officier in a naval uniform, who sat on thegunwale of a long eight-oar gig, and touched his hat in recognition ofour skipper; "what news _outre mer_? what are we doing in Ireland?"

  "My young friend here must tell you that," replied the skipper,laughingly, as he laid his hand on my shoulder. "Let me present him toyou: Mr. Burke,--Lieutenant Brevix."

  The lieutenant saluted me politely; and then, springing up, he jumpedgayly on board of us, and shook our hands with great appearance ofcordiality.

  "They 'll want to see you ashore, Antoine, as soon as may be; there aredespatches going off to-night for Paris, and they 'll be glad to sendthe last accounts of the state of the Channel."

  "Light winds and no cruisers are all I have to tell them, then," saidthe skipper.

  The lieutenant now took him aside, and they conversed for some time ina low tone, during which I occupied myself by watching the sentinels whoparaded incessantly to and fro along a low wooden pier that stretchedout into the sea, and formed, with a promontory at some distance, asmall harbor. Their watch seemed of the most vigilant, if I might judgefrom the low but continued cry which passed from mouth to mouth of"Sentinelle, prenez garde a vous;" while from each boat across theharbor a sing-song note chanted in response the monotonous sounds, "Bonquart!" as each quarter of an hour stole past.

  These precautions against the approach of any strange craft extended, asI afterwards learned, along the entire coast from Dieppe to Ostend; yetwere they not sufficient to prevent frequent visits from the Englishspies, who penetrated into every quarter of the camp, and even had thehardihood to visit the theatre of the town, and express loudly theirdisapprobation of the performance.

  "You 'd better come ashore with me, sir," said the lieutenant; "ColonelDorsenne will be glad to ask you some questions. What papers have yougot?"

  "None, save a few private letters," said I, somewhat confused at thequestion.

  "No matter," said he, gayly. "I hear from Antoine you wish to join theservice here. That wish is your best recommendation to the colonel; he'll not trouble you for reasons, I warrant you. Conduct monsieur tothe quartier-general," said the lieutenant to a corporal, who, with hisparty of four men, stood awaiting at the landing-place the arrival ofany one from the boats; and in an instant, the men falling to each sideof me, took their way along the pier.

  I could mark as we went that more than once their looks were bent on mewith an expression of compassion and pity, which at the time I was at aloss to explain. I knew not then that the road we were taking wasthat which so often led to death; and that it was only on the very daybefore, two Englishmen were shot for having ventured on shore withoutauthority.

  The consigne of the corporal passed us through one post after another,until we reached the open plain, over which now the night was fallingfast. A lantern at some distance off marked the quarters of the officeron duty; and thither we directed our steps, and at last reached a smallwooden hut, from within which the sounds of mirth and revelry proceeded.The voice of the sentinel who challenged us brought an officer to thedoor, who the moment his eyes fell on me stepped back, and passing hishand hurriedly across his forehead muttered, half inaudibly, "Anotheralready!"

  While he retired into an inner apartment, I had time to look at thesingular decorations which adorned the walls of the antechamber. Aroundon every side, and arranged like trophies, were grouped the weapons ofdifferent arms of the service, surmounted with some device emblematicof their peculiar character; or sometimes the mere record of some famousbattle in which they had pre-eminently distinguished themselves. Herewere the long, straight swords of the cuirassier crossed above the steelbreastplate, and surmounted by the heavy helmet half hid in leopardskin, and bearing the almost effaced word "Arcole" in front; there wasthe short carbine of the voltigeur, over which hung the red cap and itsgay gold tassel, with the embroidered motto "En avant" in gold letters.The long and graceful weapon of the lancer, the curved sabre ofthe _chasseur a cheval_, even the axe of the pioneer was notwanting,--displaying at a glance some trait of every branch of themighty force that bore the proud designation of "La Grande Armee."

  I was busily engaged inspecting these when the door opened, and anofficer in full uniform appeared. His figure was above the middle size,strongly and squarely built; and his bronzed features, and high, boldforehead, gave him a soldier-like air.

  "Your name, sir," said he, quickly, as he drew himself up before me, andlooked sternly in my face.

  "Burke,--Thomas Burke."

  "Write it down, Auguste," said he, turning to a young officer, whostood, pen in hand, behind him.

  "Your rank or profession?"

  "Gentilhomme," said I, not knowing that the word expressed nobility.

  "Ah, _pardieu_," cried he, as he showed his white teeth in a grin;"produce your papers, if you have any."

  "I have nothing save those letters," said I, handing him those of DeMeudon.

  Scarce had his eye glanced over them, when I saw his color heighten andhis cheek tremble.

  "What!" cried he, "are you the same young Irishman who is mentionedhere, the constant companion and friend of poor Charles? He was myschoolfellow; we were at Brienne together. What a mistake I was about tofall into! How did you come, and when?"

  Before I could reply to any of his many questions, the naval officer Ihad met at the harbor entered, and delivered his report.

  "Yes, yes; I know it all," said Dorsenne, hurriedly throwing his eyeover it. "It 's all right, perfectly right, Brevix. Let CapitaineAntoine be examined at the quartier-general. I 'll take care of monsieurhere. And, to begin; come and join us at supper."

  Passing his arm fam
iliarly over my shoulder, he led me into theadjoining room, where two other officers were seated at a table coveredwith silver dishes and numerous flasks of wine. A few words sufficed formy introduction; and a few glasses of champagne placed me as thoroughlyat my ease as though I had passed my life amongst them, and never heardany other conversation than the last movement of the French army, andtheir projects for future campaigns.

  "And so," said the colonel, after hearing from me a short account of theevents which had induced me to turn my eyes to France,--"and so you'd bea soldier? _Eh bien!_ see nothing better going myself. There 's Davernacwill tell you the same, though he has lost his arm in the service."

  "Oui, pardieu," said the officer on my right; "I am not the man todissuade him from a career I 've ever loved."

  "A vous, mon ami," said the young officer who first addressed me on myarrival, as he held out his glass and clinked it against mine. "Ihope we shall have you one of these days as our guide through the darkstreets of London. The time may not be so distant as you think; nevershake your head at it."

  "It is not that I would mean," said I, eagerly.

  "What then?" said the colonel. "You don't suppose such an expedition asours could fail of success?"

  "Nor that either," replied I; "I am not so presumptuous as to form anopinion on the subject."

  "Diantre, then! what is it?"

  "Simply this: that whatever fortune awaits me, I shall never be foundfighting against the country under whose rule I was born. England maynot be--alas! she has not been--just to us. But whatever resistance Imight have offered in the ranks of my countrymen, I shall never descendto in an invading army. No, no; if France have no other war thanwith England,--if she have not the cause of Continental liberty atheart,--she 'll have no blood of mine shed in her Service."

  "Sacristi!" said the colonel, sipping his wine coolly, "you had betterkeep these same opinions of yours to your self. There 's a certainlittle General we have at Paris who rarely permits people to reasonabout the cause of the campaign. However, it is growing late now, and we'll not discuss the matter at present. Auguste, will you take Burke toyour quarters? And to-morrow I 'll call on the general about his brevetfor the Polytechnique."

  I felt now that I had spoken more warmly than was pleasing to the party;but the sentiments I had announced were only such as in my heart I hadresolved to abide by, and I was pleased that an opportunity so soonoffered to display them. I was glad to find myself at rest at last; andalthough events pressed on me fast and thick enough to have occupied mymind, no sooner had I laid my head on my pillow than I fell into a soundsleep.