"Not so badly but you can walk if you like," and the militia-man
emphasised his words by a slight thrust with the point of his weapon.

To which of the parties in the island Master Benoist was faithful, the
muse that presides over this history declines to reveal: perhaps he was
an impartial traitor to both. It became presently clear that, in any
case, his lameness was little more than a feint. During that same night
he made a rope of his bedding, and letting himself down from the window
of his cell at high water, swam like a fish to the unwatched shore of
Anneport, and so effected his escape. It was long ere he was again heard
of by the Jersey authorities; but there is no record to show that he was
either mourned or missed.

For the next three nights a party of soldiers--not militia-men, but
Cornishmen of the Royal body-guard--occupied a hut on the landing-place
at Boulay Bay, belonging to Lesbirel, the man whose lugger was known to
be employed in the communication between the Parliamentary party in the
island and their English allies. The third night being dark and stormy,
the patrol was suspended by orders of the sergeant in command, and the
men devoted themselves to the indoor pleasures afforded by cards,
tobacco, and cider. But others were less careful of personal comfort. On
the western point of the cliff over their heads (the "Belle Hougue") a
beacon was burning, of whose existence the sergeant and his men were
unaware. A man watched by the fire, keeping it alive by constant care
and attention, or rekindling it from time to time, when it was overcome
by the wind and rain. The soldiers in their hut did not see the light;
but it was seen by the crew of a lugger, driving through the waves of
the flowing tide before a rough but favouring gale. Accordingly, putting
the helm down, their steersman drove the craft clear of the threatened