bearings. The tide
was going out rapidly, disclosing reefs on either hand. He drew in
carefully to the right of the rock known as L'Echiquelez, up through
a passage scarce wide enough for canoes, and to Roque Platte, the
south-eastern projection of the island.

You may range the seas from the Yugon Strait to the Erebus volcano, and
you will find no such landing-place for imps or men as that field of
rocks on the southeast corner of Jersey called, with a malicious irony,
the Bane des Violets. The great rocks La Coniere, La Longy, Le Gros
Etac, Le Teton, and the Petite Sambiere, rise up like volcanic monuments
from a floor of lava and trailing vraic, which at half-tide makes the
sea a tender mauve and violet. The passages of safety between these
ranges of reef are but narrow at high tide; at half-tide, when the
currents are changing most, the violet field becomes the floor of a vast
mortuary chapel for unknowing mariners.

A battery of four guns defended the post on the landward side of this
bank of the heavenly name. Its guards were asleep or in their cups. They
yielded, without resistance, to the foremost of the invaders. But here
Rullecour and his pilot, looking back upon the way they had come,
saw the currents driving the transport boats hither and thither in
confusion. Jersey was not to be conquered without opposition--no army
of defence was abroad, but the elements roused themselves and furiously
attacked the fleet. Battalions unable to land drifted back with the
tides to Granville, whence they had come. Boats containing the heavy
ammunition and a regiment of conscripts were battered upon the rocks,
and hundreds of the invaders found an unquiet grave upon the Banc des
Violets.

Presently the traitor Delagarde arrived and was welcomed warmly by
Rullecour. The night wore on, and at last the remaining legions were
landed. A force was left behind to guard La Roque Platte, and then the
journey across country to the sleeping town began.

With silent, drowsing batteries in front and on either side of them,
the French troops advanced, the marshes of Samares and the sea on their
left, churches and manor houses on their right, all silent. Not yet had
a blow been struck for the honour of this land and of the Kingdom.

But a blind injustice was, in its own way, doing the work of justice.
On the march, Delagarde, suspecting treachery to himself, not without
reason, required of Rullecour guarantee for the fulfilment of his