shelter for a time, but the end would only be delayed. So I edged off from
Brecqhou, thinking to run for Havre Gosselin, and then, with senses
quickened to the occasion, I saw that Havre Gosselin would serve us no
better.

Port és Saies, Grande Grève, Vermandés, Les Fontaines, Port Gorey,--I ran
them rapidly through my mind and saw the same objection to all. For in
all, the ascent to the high lands was toilsome and difficult, and one, so
climbing, could be picked off with a musket from below as easily as a
rabbit or a sitting gull. And that any mercy would be shown, to one of us
at all events, I did not for one moment delude myself. I saw again the
round hole bore itself in John Ozanne's forehead, and Helier Le Marchant's
dead body lying in the boat.

But past Gorey, where the south-west gales have bitten deep into the
headlands, there were places where a quick leap might carry one ashore at
cost of one's boat, and then among the ragged black rocks a creeping course
might be found where bullets could not follow.

So I turned for Little Sercq, and rowed for dear life and that which was
dearer still, and the venomous prow behind followed like a hound on the
scent.

The black fangs of Les Dents swept past us. La Baveuse lay ahead. If I
could get past Moie de Bretagne before they could cripple me I would have
good hope, for thereabouts the sea was strewn with rocks and I knew my way
as they did not.

They were gaining on me, but not enough for their liking. I saw the glint
of a musket barrel in the sun.