feared, and of those there were fortunately not many. In the villages we
had no difficulty in buying food, and to all who questioned we were on our
way to the Nore to join a King's ship and fight the Frenchmen. To cover Le
Marchant's lack of speech, we muffled his face in flannel and gave him a
toothache which rendered him bearish and disinclined for talk. And so we
came slowly down the coast, with eyes and ears alert for chance of
crossing, and wondered at the lack of enterprise on the part of the
dwellers there which rendered the chances so few.

Many recollections crowd my mind of that long tramp along the edge of the
sea. But greater matters press, and I may not linger on these. We had many
a close shave from officious village busybodies, whose patriotism flew no
higher than thought of the reward which hung to an escaped prisoner of war
or to any likely subject for the pressgang.

One such is burnt in on my mind, because thought of him has done more to
make me suspicious of my fellows, especially of such as make parade of
their piety, than any man I ever met.

He was a kindly-looking old man with white hair and a cheerful brown face,
and his clothes were white with flour dust which had a homely, honest
flavour about it. He was in a small shop, where I went for food one
evening, engaged in talk with the woman who kept it, and he began to
question me as soon as I opened my mouth.

I told him our usual story, and he seemed much interested in it.

"And you're going to the fleet! Well, well! A dreadful thing is war, but if
it has to be it's better on sea than on the land here, and the fleet must
have sailors, I suppose. But every night I pray for wars to cease and the