monks of Val Richer beside
the skeletons of unfortunate gentlemen of the sea of later
centuries--pirates from France, buccaneers from England, and smugglers
from Jersey, who kept their trysts in the precincts of the ancient
chapel.

The brisk air of early autumn made the blood tingle in Guida's cheeks.
Her eyes were big with light and enjoyment. Her hair was caught close
by a gay cap of her own knitting, but a little of it escaped, making a
pretty setting to her face.

The boat rode under all her courses, until, as Jean said, they had put
the last lace on her bonnet. Guida's hands were on the tiller firmly,
doing Jean's bidding promptly. In all they were five. Besides Guida and
Ranulph, Jean and Jean's wife, there was a young English clergyman of
the parish of St. Michael's, who had come from England to fill the place
of the rector for a few months. Word had been brought to him that a man
was dying on the Ecrehos. He had heard that the boat was going, he had
found Jean Touzel, and here he was with a biscuit in his hand and a
black-jack of French wine within easy reach. Not always in secret the
Reverend Lorenzo Dow loved the good things of this world.

The most notable characteristic of the young clergyman's appearance was
his outer guilelessness and the oddness of his face. His head was rather
big for his body; he had a large mouth which laughed easily, a noble
forehead, and big, short-sighted eyes. He knew French well, but could
speak almost no Jersey patois, so, in compliment to him, Jean Touzel,
Ranulph, and Guida spoke in English. This ability to speak English--his
own English--was the pride of Jean's life. He babbled it all the way,
and chiefly about a mythical Uncle Elias, who was the text for many a
sermon.

"Times past," said he, as they neared Maitre Ile, "mon onc' 'Lias he
knows these Ecrehoses better as all the peoples of the world--respe d'la
compagnie. Mon onc' 'Lias he was a fine man. Once when there is a fight
between de Henglish and de hopping Johnnies," he pointed towards France,
"dere is seven French ship, dere is two Henglish ship--gentlemen-of-war
dey are call. Eh ben, one of de Henglish ships he is not a
gentleman-of-war, he is what you call go-on-your-own-hook--privator. But
it is all de same--tres-ba, all right! What you t'ink coum to pass? De
big Henglish ship she is hit ver' bad, she is all break-up. Efin,
dat leetle privator he stan' round on de fighting side of de
gentleman-of-war and ta