We made a comfortable, though not very quick, passage, the wind falling
slack and fitful at times, so that it was the evening of the next day
before we slipped in under the eastern end of the great digue they were
building for the protection of the shipping in the harbour. It was at that
time but a few feet above water level, and its immense length gave it a
very curious appearance, like a huge water-snake lying flat on the surface
of the sea.

We pulled in under an island which held a fort, and keeping along that side
of the roadstead, ran quietly ashore, drew our boat up, and went up into
the town.




CHAPTER XXVIII

HOW WE WALKED INTO THE TIGER'S MOUTH


Cherbourg was at that time a town of mean-looking houses and narrow
streets, ill-paved, ill-lighted, a rookery for blackbirds of every breed.
It was a great centre for smuggling and privateering, the fleet brought
many hangers-on, and the building of the great digue drew thither rough
toilers who could find, or were fitted for, no other employment.

Low-class wine-shops, and their spawn of quarrellings and sudden deaths,
abounded. Crime, in fact, attracted little attention so long as it held no
menace to the public peace. Life had been so very cheap, and blood had