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Updated: May 15, 2025
There was Richambeau walking away, telescope under arm, even as the other 12-pounder on shore replied impudently to the gun he had fired. "A good aim," he heard Richambeau say, jerking a finger backward towards him. Was it then? said Ranulph to himself; was it indeed? Ba su, it was the last shot he would ever fire against aught English, here or elsewhere.
If he refused to fire, he would be strung up to the yardarm; if he fired and missed, perhaps other gunners would fire, and once started they might raze the fishing-post. If he dismounted the gun, the matter would probably remain only a jest, for such as yet Richambeau regarded it.
Suddenly a girl came running round the corner of the building. It was Carterette. She was making for the right-hand gun. Ranulph started, the hand that held the match trembled. "Fire, you fool, or you'll kill the girl!" cried Richambeau. Ranulph laid a hand on himself as it were. Every nerve in his body tingled, his legs trembled, but his eye was steady.
"Pardingue," she said, clutching his arm, "if you go to the top of Perch Rock, so will I!" In spite of his anxiety he almost laughed. "But see but see," he said, and his voice dropped; "you couldn't stay up there with me all alone, garcon Carterette. And Richambeau would be firing on you too!" She was very angry, but she made no reply, and he continued quickly: "I'll go straight to the rock now.
"All my life," answered Ranulph, "and, by your leave, I will tell you how." Not waiting for permission, after the manner of his country, he told Richambeau of his Jersey birth and bringing up, and how he was the victim of the pressgang. "Very good," said Richambeau. "You Jersey folk were once Frenchmen, and now that you're French again, you shall do something for the flag.
Richambeau would send a squad of men to search for him, and if he was not found they would probably raze the Post, or take its people prisoners. As he put the apron carefully on ma couzaine, he determined that he could not take refuge with the Mattingleys. Neither would it do to make for the woods of the interior, for still Richambeau might revenge himself on the fishing-post. What was to be done?
"All my life," answered Ranulph, "and, by your leave, I will tell you how." Not waiting for permission, after the manner of his country, he told Richambeau of his Jersey birth and bringing up, and how he was the victim of the pressgang. "Very good," said Richambeau. "You Jersey folk were once Frenchmen, and now that you're French again, you shall do something for the flag.
A flag-staff too was set up, and a red cloth waved defiantly in the breeze. At last Richambeau, who had watched the whole business from the deck of the Victoire, burst out laughing, and sent for Elie Mattingley. "Come, I've had enough," said Richambeau. "There never was a wilder jest, and I'll not spoil the joke. He has us on his toasting-fork. He shall have the honour of a flag of truce."
" And you are condemned, gunner," continued Richambeau dryly, "to marry the said maid before sundown, or be carried out to sea a prisoner of war." So saying, he laughed, and bade them begone to the wedding. Ranulph left Richambeau's ship bewildered and perturbed. For hours he paced the shore, and at last his thoughts began to clear.
"The Lord protect us," he cried, "they're going to fight my ship!" He laughed again till the tears came. "Son of Peter, but it is droll that a farce au diable! They have humour, these fisher- folk, eh, gunner?" "Mattingley will fight you just the same," answered Ranulph coolly. "Oh ho, you know these people, my gunner?" asked Richambeau.
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