heir course
easterly by a channel between rocky bulwarks opening Havre Gosselin,
they suddenly saw a brig rounding the Eperquerie. She was making to the
south-east under full sail. Her main and mizzen masts were not visible,
and her colours could not be seen, but Jean's quick eye had lighted
on something which made him cast apprehensive glances at his wife and
Guida. There was a gun in the stern port-hole of the vanishing brig; and
he also noted that it was run out for action.

His swift glance at his wife and Guida assured him that they had not
noticed the gun.

Jean's brain began working with unusual celerity. He was certain that
the brig was a French sloop or a privateer. In other circumstances, that
in itself might not have given him much trouble of mind, for more than
once French frigates had sailed round the Channel Isles in insulting
strength and mockery; but at this moment every man knew that France and
England were only waiting to see who should throw the ball first and set
the red game going. Twenty French frigates could do little harm to the
island of Sark; a hundred men could keep off an army and navy there;
but Jean knew that the Admiralty yacht Dorset was sailing at this moment
within half a league of the Eperquerie. He would stake his life that
the brig was French and hostile and knew it also. At all costs he must
follow and learn the fate of the yacht.

If he landed at Havre Gosselin and crossed the island on foot, whatever
was to happen would be over and done, and that did not suit the book of
Jean Touzel. More than once he had seen a little fighting, and more than
once shared in it. If there was to be a fight--he looked affectionately
at his carronades--then he wanted to be within seeing or striking
distance.

Instead of running into Havre Gosselin, he set for the Bec du Nez, the
eastern point of the island. His object was to land upon the rocks of
the Eperquerie, where the women would be safe whatever befell. The tide
was running strong round the point, and the surf was heavy, so that once
or twice the boat was almost overturned; but Jean had measured well the
currents and the wind.

This was one of the most exciting moments in his life, for, as they
rounded the Bec du Nez, there was the Dorset going about to make for
Guernsey, and the brig, under full sail, bearing down upon her. Even as
they rounded the point, up ran the tricolour to the brig's mizzen-mast,
and the militant shouts of the Frenc