Steadily northward crept the launch, and soon the slightly uneven black line that was the coast began to stand out more sharply against the stars. On their starboard hand the eastern sky was paling when Barry, kneeling in the bottom of the boat and striking flint and steel under cover of his coat, looked at his watch.
"Another three minutes," he announced in a shaky whisper. "Keep pulling, men-and no talking from now on."
The dark shape of the launch moved on for a short distance and then Barry put the tiller over and she headed straight in for the shore. In five minutes they could hear the sound of waves breaking on a beach.
"Not much of a surf," whispered Midshipman Quinn. "We could ground bows-on. It's not likely we'll find anyone about for miles. "
"Unless the French have had warning of us," returned Barry uneasily. "In that case, they may be there-waiting for us."
"Here are the breakers," said Septimus quickly. "Watch your
helm, Charles!"
The launch rose on a wavecrest and the white of the surf could be seen ahead. The two bowmen shipped their oars, ready to leap out and drag her bows up the beach when she grounded. Ten strokes, and the keel grated on small shingle. Thirty seconds later the British landing-party was standing on French ground.
"I thought I heard a-a voice," quavered Barry, peering round him in the darkness. He was gripping Midshipman Quinn's arm tightly. "Perhaps it'd be wiser to pull off again and listen."
"Steady, Charles," Septimus whispered urgently in his friend's ear. "The beach is deserted. Better tell Hubbard to keep the launch well offshore until we return, in case anyone comes along."
Barry pulled himself together and gave the order. The launch with her crew of one was shoved off, and the eight men clustered round the two midshipmen ready for further orders. Barry, who was obviously suffering from nervousness, said nothing, and Septimus realised that he would have to take action himself-his senior was for the moment incapable of it.
"If I remember correctly, Mr. Barry," he said in a low VOIce that the men could hear, "you decided that I should lead the file, as my sight in the dark is better than yours."
"Yes-yes, of course," said Barry hastily. "Pray lead the way, Sep-I mean Mr. Quinn. I will bring up the rear."
"Aye aye," returned Septimus. "Single file, then-every man close up to his leader-no noise. Follow me."
He started up the gentle slope of the shingle. It was impossible to avoid making a noise in crossing it, but soon they came to soft sand with stunted bushes growing here and there and a line of low trees beyond. A small square shape appeared among the trees. Septimus halted the file and went to speak to Barry.
"There's a building in front," he whispered. "I suggest I go on to reconnoitre while you wait here."
"If it's a farm," Charles whispered back, "couldn't we kidnap the farmer and run for it?"
"He wouldn't be the sort of prisoner the captain wants, I fear. I'll go and see where we are."
Without waiting for Barry's agreement, he ran forward. The dawn would soon be here and there was no time to waste.
The line of trees bordered a vineyard, he found, and the square shape was a stone building that seemed deserted. He trotted noiselessly along the edge of the vineyard, thinking what a pity it was that Charles Barry was unable to feel this thrill of excitement at prowling into Bonaparte's territory-territory where discovery would mean death or imprisonment. Septimus had to admit that his friend was showing himself a coward indeed. But he was not convinced that cowardice was part of Barry's character. If only he could make Barry see himself as he really was, force him to prove himself capable of courage in the face of the enemy-and Septimus believed that he was capable of it-he might save his friend from disgrace. But in the midst of a perilous night operation there seemed little chance of scheming for such an occasion.
Here was a gap in the line of trees. A sandy track divided one big vineyard from another, it appeared, and the track was heading directly away from the beach. It was bound to lead to the coast road-if there was one-because the vine harvesters would want to take their produce to market in Perpignan by cart. He need go no further with his reconnaissance. As he turned away, Septimus remembered that the grapes would be nearly ripe. He went to the nearest vine-tree and plucked the biggest bunch he could feel in the darkness, before scuttling back the way he had come.
(Рисунок отсутствует)
Part of the Coast of France, with the Place where we landed and took a Prisoner. From Midshipman Quinn's private Log.
When he felt soft sand under his feet he paused again, to fill the canvas sleeve Mr. Preece had made him. A minute later he was tossing his captured grapes to the seamen, who sucked them thirstily.
"Spoils of war," he said. "All is clear, Mr. Barry. If you will follow, I can bring you to the coast road."
The party of ten, in single fIle, moved silently to the edge of the vineyard and came to the sandy track. Three hundred paces along it brought them within a few yards of its end, where it appeared to join another track. Again Septimus went on alone, moving silently at the very edge of the track. At the junction his suspicions were confirmed. A wide metalled road, obviously a main road of some importance, ran north and south bordered by trees and bushes. He went back and reported this to Barry.
"We can rig an ambush within a short distance of this lane," he added. "I suggest, Mr. Barry, that we take four men each and hide ourselves on the roadside, my party fifty feet from yours. Then, supposing a Frenchman comes along from my direction, I let him pass-you stop him-and I come up from behind to prevent him from escaping."
Barry did not at first reply, probably because he was trying to stop the chattering of his teeth.
"W-would it not be b-better to wait in the lane here?" he suggested at last.
The darkness hid the sharp dig in the ribs which Septimus administered, and he took care that the seamen did not hear his whispered "Pull yourself together!"
"I fancy the road myself," he said aloud. "And we had better get into position quickly if you agree."
Barry seemed to make an effort, and spoke with some decision.
"Very well, then. And we take the first chance we get, and rush our prisoner away down the lane."
Septimus would have liked to say that it would be better to let the first passer-by go free unless he looked like being useful, but he decided that he could not, this time, question Barry's order.
"I'll take Beamish, Rudd, Tipper, and Garraway," he said, since his senior had again fallen into uneasy silence. "Come on, men."
They went forward into the road and Septimus turned to the right along it. He led the way past a stone bridge which crossed a dry stream-bed, and stopped by a thick fringe of bushes. His eyes were well used to the darkness by now, and he could make out the other five halting twenty paces further back and watch them disappear into the roadside thickets. He led his own men into the bushes and told them to make themselves comfortable.
"If you want to scratch yourselves or break twigs," he added, "do it now. And give Beamish plenty of room. I want to listen without any noise from you."
Hoarse chuckles and a chorus of whispered "Aye-ayes" answered him. He settled himself behind a low thorn-bush close to the roadside and prepared to wait.