t
I could have such ideas? And the whole of my life belongs to her. Well,
let me get back to my ruins first. It would never do to be captured by
a British frigate. We had a narrow shave of it last time. And there will
be a vile great moon to-night."

With these reflections--which were upon the whole more to his credit
than the wonted web of thought--Carne with his long stride struck into
a path towards the beach where his boat was waiting. Although he knew
where to find several officers who had once been his comrades, he kept
himself gladly to his loneliness; less perhaps by reason of Napoleon's
orders than from the growing charm which Solitude has for all who begin
to understand her.

CHAPTER XXXIX

RUNNING THE GAUNTLET

Though Carne had made light, in his impatient mood, of the power of
the blockading fleet, he felt in his heart a sincere respect for its
vigilance and activity. La Liberte (as the unhappy Cheeseman's schooner
was called within gunshot of France) was glad enough to drop that
pretentious name, and become again the peaceful London Trader, when she
found herself beyond the reach of French batteries. The practice of her
captain, the lively Charron, was to give a wide berth to any British
cruiser appearing singly; but whenever more than one hove in sight,
to run into the midst of them and dip his flag. From the speed of his
schooner he could always, in a light wind, show a clean pair of heels to
any single heavy ship, and he had not yet come across any cutter, brig
of war, or light corvette that could collar the Liberte in any sort of
weather. Renaud Charron was a brave young Frenchman, as fair a specimen
as could be found, of a truly engaging but not overpowering type,
kindly, warm-hearted, full of enterprise, lax of morals (unless
honour--their veneer--was touched), loving excitement, and capable of
anything, except skulking, or sulking, or running away slowly.

"None of your risky tricks to-night!" said Carne, as he stood on the
schooner's deck, in the dusk of the February evening, himself in a dark
mood growing darker--for his English blood supplied the elements of
gloom, and he felt a dull pleasure in goading a Frenchman, after being
trampled on by one of French position. "You will just make straight, as
the tide and shoals allow, for our usual landing-place, set me ashore,
and follow me to the old quarters. I have orders to give you, which can
be given only there."

"My commanding officer