I requested of Benoit a few days' leave of absence, after our stores were duly delivered at the depot, which he agreed to on the understanding that my wages should not be paid me till I returned to the barge. In this way he imagined he made sure of me, and I was content to leave him in that simple faith. But now, as I wandered through the squalid streets of the city of Havre, and looked out at the great Atlantic waves beating in on the shore, I began to realise that France itself was only a trap on a larger scale than Paris. True, I might possibly find a berth as an able-bodied sailor on a French ship; but that was not what I wanted. As for English ships, it was a time of war, and none durst show their prows in the harbour, save under a false flag. Yet the longing for home was so strong in me, that I think, had I found one, I would even have seized a small rowing-boat and attempted to cross the Channel in it single- handed. For two days I prowled hither and thither, vainly looking for a chance of escape, and was beginning to wonder whether after all I should have to return to Benoit, when I chanced one evening on a fellow who, for all his French airs and talk, I guessed the moment he spoke to be an Irishman. He was, I must confess, not quite sober, which perhaps made him less careful about appearances than he should have been. It was on the cliffs of La Heve we foregathered. He was walking so unsteadily on the very margin that I deemed it only brotherly to lend him an arm. "Thank you, my lad," said he, beginning the speech in French, but relapsing into his native tongue as he went on; "these abominable French cliffs move about more than the cliffs at Bantry. Nothing moves there-- not even custom-house runners. Bless your dear heart, we can land our bales there under their very noses! Steady, my friend, you were nearly slipping there. You French dogs never could walk on your hind legs. There she lies, as snug and taut as a revenue cutter, and just as many teeth. What did I come ashore for now? Not to see you, was it? 'Pon my word, monsieur, I owe you a hundred pardons. I quite forgot. You look a worthy fellow. I press you into the service, and the man that objects shall have an ounce of lead through him. Come, my lad, row me aboard. The anchor's apeak, and we're off for the ould country, and a murrain on this land of yours!" So saying he stumbled along, down a zigzag path that led to the foot of the cliff, where lay moored a small boat and two men in her. "Belay there, hearties! I've got the villain. Clap him in irons, I say! He tried to send me over the cliff, but-- how are you, my friend? Give us your hand. You're one of the right sort.--Pull away, boys. The wind's in the east, and the tide's swung round the _cap_. This time to- morrow we shall be scraping the nose of ould Ireland--glory to her!"