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This time we headed straight down-stream, Ben nodding and dozing from his place in the middle, M. Radisson, La Chesnaye, and I poling hard to keep the drift-ice off. We avoided the New Englander's fort by going on the other side of the island, and when we shot past Governor Brigdar's stockades with the lights of the Prince Rupert blinking through the dark, Ben was fast asleep.
The lieutenant stepped back to let M. de Radisson pass up the ship's ladder first. The New Englanders followed, the lieutenant still waiting at the bottom step; and when M. Radisson's back was turned the lieutenant darted down the river bank in the direction of Governor Brigdar's fort. The flag went up and M. Radisson looked back to witness the salute. Then he discovered the lieutenant's flight.
Oh, we were a formidable army, I warrant you, seen by any one mounting the drift to spy across our walls! But 'twas no burlesque that night, as you may know when I tell you that Governor Brigdar's forces played us such a trick they were under shelter of the ship before we had discovered them.
Not one glimpse of our fair passenger had we on all that voyage south, for what with Ben's oaths and Governor Brigdar's drinking, the cabin was no place for Hortense. At Isle Percée, entering the St. Lawrence, lay a messenger from La Chesnaye's father with a missive that bore ill news.
Ben's nose poked across the table, closer to Governor Brigdar's ear. "But look you, Mister What's-y-er-name," says he. "Don't you Mister me, you young cub!" interrupts the governor with a pompous show of drunken dignity. "A fig for Your Excellency," cries the young blackguard. "Who's who when he's drunk?
All at once Governor Brigdar's lace handkerchief was aflutter at the end of a sword, and the representative of King Charles begged leave to land and salute the representative of His Most Christian Majesty, the King of France.
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