He was to be confirmed in this opinion. That night it fell to him, as officer of the watch, to witness the arrival up the side of the _Pomone_, from a tiny boat, of two Chouan chiefs, the Chevalier de Tinténiac and the Comte du Boisberthelot, gentlemen of title arrayed in dirty Breton costumes. As a matter of fact the young man had seen them before, for they had boarded the frigate at Southampton before she sailed, but he hardly recognised them now. They brought, so he later understood, good accounts of the disposition of the countryside, where all the peasantry were ready to rise, undertook to 'sweep' the coast, and strongly pressed an immediate disembarkation. And immediately the fruits of the divided command were made manifest: the Comte de Puisaye and Sir John Warren were for following this advice, but, since d'Hervilly objected, they had to give way to the needless precaution of a reconnaissance, on which he insisted. So next morning, at daybreak, the young sailor saw him embark in a cutter and make a majestic tour of the bay--a proceeding which had no effect save that of delaying the landing for twenty-four hours. "And," as Mr. Tollemache observed later in the wardroom to a friend, "why give the beggars on shore longer warning of our arrival than we need? They are not blind, I suppose; this little collection can hardly be invisible to the crew in the fort over there, for instance! Land 'em at once, say I!" The friend drew at his pipe. "Wish we were landing a party too eh, Tollemache?" "Well, _we_ aren't getting any fun for our money! I confess I would rather like to have a smack at the sans-culottes before we leave. Do you think the fellows we are landing have much of a chance, Carleton?" "Devilish little, I should say," replied his laconic companion, and knocked out his pipe. (2) "Surely it must be a good omen!" thought René de Flavigny that night, where he sat, with the other officers of the regiment to which he was attached--du Dresnay's--in the flat-bottomed boat approaching Carnac beach. For everything to-night--or rather, this morning, since it was two o'clock--was made resplendent by the glorious moon which seemed to be riding the heavens on purpose to welcome these exiles in arms to the land of their birth. Behind the steadily advancing boats the hulls of the English squadron lay almost motionless on the breast of an unrippled sea of argent, in front the wide, pale sands of Carnac stretched like a magic band of silver. Yes, surely it was a good omen!