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"Only long enough to make a cure of a pretty smart hurt, received in cutting out a lugger from the opposite coast," answered Wychecombe, with sufficient modesty, and yet with sufficient spirit. "Lugger! ha! what Atwood? You surely do not mean, young gentleman, la Voltigeuse?" "That was the name of the craft, sir we found her in the roads of Groix." "And then I've the pleasure of seeing Mr.
This Isle of Groix swarmed with creatures that had come over the ice from the mainland in the winter season. Its steep edges, covered with an impenetrable arborescent growth, enclosed a great treeless plateau, a "lande."
"My clever Bannalec maid," said I, "what is good for a stirrup-cup at the Groix Inn?" "Schist?" she inquired in Breton. "With a dash of red wine, then," I replied. She brought the delicious Quimperle cider, and I poured a little Bordeaux into it. Marianne watched me with laughing black eyes. "What makes your cheeks so red, Marianne?" I asked. "Has Jean Marie been here?"
His insulting conduct and treachery to Captain Jones are strongly attested to in Mr. Carvel's manuscript: they were amply proved by the written statements of other officers. The squadron sailed from L'Orient in June, but owing to a collision between the Bon homme Richard and the Alliance it was forced to put back into the Groix roads for repairs.
"It was written in that scroll that Marie Trevec, of Groix Island, was cursed by the priest she and her descendants," I said, touching Le Bihan on the arm. "There was a Marie Trevec who married an Yves Trevec of St. Gildas " "It is the same," said Le Bihan, looking at me obliquely. "Oh!" said I; "then they were ancestors of my wife." "Do you fear the curse?" asked Le Bihan. "What?" I laughed.
You are not superstitious, my dear?" Her eyes were on mine. She slowly drew the little gold cross from her bosom and kissed it. But her lips trembled as they pressed the symbol of faith. About nine o'clock the next morning I walked into the Groix Inn and sat down at the long discolored oaken table, nodding good-day to Marianne Bruyere, who in turn bobbed her white coiffe at me.
Although a priest and a Frenchman, he had violated his priestly office to aid him in discovering the password to the fort. This password he extorted during confession from a young Breton girl who was in the habit of rowing across from the island of Groix to visit her husband in the fort.
But the excellent and inimitable and altogether benignant French Government was not satisfied with its own generosity in presenting one merely with Precigne beyond that lurked a cauchemar called by the singularly poetic name: Isle de Groix. A man who went to Isle de Groix was done. As the Surveillant said to us all, leaning out of a littlish window, and to me personally upon occasion
Having passed the Island of Groix, she continued on until several shots were fired at her from a fort, which, however, did no damage. She put about, and a short time afterwards, the wind being East-North-East, the look-out aloft shouted "A sail on the lee bow!" The stranger was now seen to be running west by south.
Franklin's negotiations with the French king, backed by the bestirring ardor of Paul, a squadron of nine vessels, of various force, were ready in the road of Groix for another descent on the British coasts. These craft were miscellaneously picked up, their crews a mongrel pack, the officers mostly French, unacquainted with each other, and secretly jealous of Paul.
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