The
poor people had, I daresay, no great reason themselves for loving
their monarch, but they were anxious that their own loyalty should
be above suspicion.
About the English prisoners they expressed their sentiments without
disguise. The English were their natural enemies, and they hurled
such abuse at my comrades that I felt some anxiety lest these
should cast off their cords (which were by no means closely tied)
and take summary vengeance on their revilers. Fortunately their
patience endured the strain, being aided by their ignorance of the
precise meaning of the opprobrious terms applied to them.
The peasants told us we had come far out of the direct road to St.
Malo, and pressed us to stay the night in their village. But this I
would by no means consent to, for I was on thorns already lest
something should mar our plot, and was keeping a wary eye on our
wagoner, who, though slow-witted, was clearly in a state of great
uneasiness. Professing, then, that having missed our way we must
needs hurry on to make up for lost time, I listened patiently to
the minute and befogging directions given us for finding the St.
Malo road and ordered my party to march. But when we had gone some
few miles out of the village, and darkness was settling down, I
called a halt, and we rested till daylight in a field, taking it in
turns to watch.
During the night I talked long with Joe Punchard about our course.
The good fellow was very uneasy, fearing that when it came to
negotiating for a boat our scheme would break down.
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