Suddenly one day came the fearful news from England that the plague had
broken out, and that thousands were dying. The flight from London was
like the flight of the children of Israel into the desert. The dead-
carts filled with decaying bodies rattled through the foul streets, to
drop their horrid burdens into the great pit at Aldgate; the bells of
London tolled all day and all night for the passing of human souls.
Hundreds of homes, isolated because of a victim of the plague found
therein, became ghastly breeding-places of the disease, and then silent,
disgusting graves. If a man shivered in fear, or staggered from
weakness, or for very hunger turned sick, he was marked as a victim, and
despite his protests was huddled away with the real victims to die the
awful death. From every church, where clergy were left to pray, went up
the cry for salvation from "plague, pestilence, and famine." Scores of
ships from Holland and from France lay in the Channel, not allowed to
touch the shores of England, nor permitted to return whence they came.
On the very day that news of this reached Jersey, came a messenger from
the Queen of England for Michel de la Foret to hasten to her Court for
that she had need of him, and it was a need which would bring him honour.
Even as the young officer who brought the letter handed it to De la Foret
in the little house on the hill-side above Rozel Bay, he was taken
suddenly ill, and fell at the Camisard's feet.

De la Foret straightway raised him in his arms. He called to his wife,
but, bidding her not come near, he bore the doomed man away to the lonely
Ecrehos Rocks lying within sight of their own doorway. Suffering no one
to accompany him, he carried the sick man to the boat which had brought
the Queen's messenger to Rozel Bay. The sailors of the vessel fled, and
alone De la Foret set sail for the Ecrehos.