im--he a lad and she a little
child--as he left her with her mother in the watchmaker's shop in
the Vier Marchi that day.... And she had never seen him again until
yesterday.

She looked from the rocks to the approaching frigate. Was it the
Narcissus coming--coming to this very island? She recalled Philip--how
gallant he was yesterday, how cool, with what an air of command! How
light he had made of the riot! Ranulph's strength and courage she
accepted as a matter of course, and was glad that he was brave,
generous, and good; but the glamour of distance and mystery were
around d'Avranche. Remembrance, like a comet, went circling through the
firmament of eleven years, from the Vier Marchi to the Place du Vier
Prison.

She watched the ship slowly bearing with the land. The Jack was flying
from the mizzen. They were now taking in her topsails. She was so near
that Guida could see the anchor a-cockbell, and the poop lanthorns.
She could count the guns like long black horns shooting out from a
rhinoceros hide: she could discern the figurehead lion snarling into the
spritsail. Presently the ship came up to the wind and lay to. Then she
signalled for a pilot, and Guida ran towards the ruined chapel, calling
for Jean Touzel.

In spite of Jean's late protests as to piloting a "gentleman-of-war,"
this was one of the joyful moments of his life. He could not loosen his
rowboat quick enough; he was away almost before you could have spoken
his name. Excited as Guida was, she could not resist calling after him:

"'God save our greshus King! A bi'tot--goodbye!'"

CHAPTER X

As Ranulph had surmised, the ship was the Narcissus, and its first
lieutenant was Philip d'Avranche. The night before, orders had reached
the vessel from the Admiralty that soundings were to be taken at the
Ecrehos. The captain had at once made inquiries for a pilot, and Jean
Touzel was commended to him. A messenger sent to Jean found that he had
already gone to the Ecrehos. The captain had then set sail, and now,
under Jean's skilful pilotage, the Narcissus twisted and crept through
the teeth of the rocks at the entrance, and slowly into the cove, reefs
on either side gaping and girding at her, her keel all but scraping
the serrated granite beneath. She anchored, and boats put off to take
soundings and explore the shores. Philip was rowed in by Jean Touzel.

Stepping out upon the beach of Mattre 'Ile, Philip slowly made his way
over the shingle to the