Besides, just at this time, when there was a lull before
the storm that was soon to burst from Wolfe and Amherst,
both sides had more dramatic things to catch the general
eye. First, there was the worthy namesake of 'the saucy
Arethusa' in the rival British Navy, the Arethuse, whose
daring and skilful captain, Vauquelin, had moored her
beside the Barachois, or sea-pond, so that he could
outflank Amherst's approach against the right land face
of Louisbourg. Then, of still more immediate interest
was the nimble little Echo, which tried to run the gauntlet
of the British fleet on June 18, a day long afterwards
made famous on the field of Waterloo. Drucour had entrusted
his wife and several other ladies to the captain of the
Echo, who was to make a dash for Quebec with dispatches
for the governor of Canada. A muffling fog shut down and
seemed to promise her safety from the British, though it
brought added danger from that wrecking coast. With
infinite precautions she slipped out on the ebb, between
the French at the Island Battery and Wolfe's strenuous
workers at the Lighthouse Point. But the breeze that bore
her north also raised the fog enough to let the Juno and
Sutherland sight her and give chase. She crowded on a
press of sail till she was overhauled, when she fought
her captors till her case was hopeless.

Madame Drucour and the other ladies were then sent back
to Louisbourg with every possible consideration for their
feelings. This act of kindness was remembered later on,
when a regular interlude of courtesies followed Drucour's
offer to send his own particularly skilful surgeon to