"Pluck up heart, Joe," I said. "I own we are running a desperate
hazard, but so far we have had good luck, and 'tis a case of
grasping the nettle boldly."
"But what reason can we give for hiring a boat, sir? If this
Cancale is but ten miles from St. Malo we can not say we are
sailing thither; 'twould be quicker to go by road."
"Then we'll change our destination, Joe. We may do what we please
in this country in the name of the king, and provided there be no
soldiers in Cancale we have but to put on an impudent assurance to
weather through safely."
I asked the deserters what other port besides St. Malo we might
give out to be our destination, and learning that Cherbourg was
some sixty or seventy miles to the northward, and by that much
nearer home, I determined to make that our aim. This involved
another difficulty, for the authorities in Cancale might reasonably
say that the prisoners having escaped from near St. Malo, should be
entrusted to them to convey back to their prison. But 'tis no good
meeting troubles halfway, and I resolutely kept my thought from
dwelling on the manifold dangers that bestrewed our path to
liberty.
We so contrived our march next day that we arrived at the outskirts
of Cancale late in the afternoon, but with time enough, as I hoped,
to set sail before night. When I beheld the size of the place my
heart sank. I had imagined it to be little more than a village; but
found it a regular town (though small for that), its little
red-tiled houses clustering thick upon a height overlooking a bay.
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