These cases were zinc-lined to keep the goods dry, as some of them were
perishable, and no one can tell with what pride I gazed at these boxes,
and thought of the glorious life I was about to lead. No thought of any
accident, or other drawback, even entered my head; in fact, as I sat on
the top of a case, swinging my legs and counting the hours which had to
pass before the day arrived when I was to take possession of my island
home, I was most consummately happy, being naturally ignorant of what
was to befall me.

At length came the day for launching the "Kittywich," at which I
assisted to my utmost; for I knew that any hitch with her meant further
detention in Guernsey for me. All went well, and as she slid off the
stocks (like a duck entering the water) without a splash or jar of any
kind, a ringing cheer went up, and then I knew that I should soon bid
farewell to picturesque St. Peter Port, one of the finest harbour towns
of Great Britain.

A few more days and the "Kittywich" had received her cargo for home,
and with it a new name, for in consideration of her additional carrying
capacity, we rechristened her the "Cormorant." Then came the day on
which the Blue Peter was seen at her masthead, but what was even better
in my eyes, was my own outfit packed in the four huge cases which stood
so prominently on her hatchway amidships.

M. Oudin hobbled down to the harbour to see us off, and in doing so
handed me a long heavy case as a parting gift, with instructions not to
open it for a week, by which time he hoped to be far away in Paris.

We unmoored, left the harbour, and in an hour were laying at anchor off