We heard only distant and muffled sounds, and judged that the people were busied in the cellar, where was stored not only wine and liquor, but abundance of old cider, strong as brandy itself. We had just reached the level of the chapel and were about passing the door which led into it, when Blanchon the cat stopped, growling fiercely. In another moment a light shone through the opened door. The next Blanchon sprang forward with his wild, unearthly yell of onset, and flung himself into the face of a man who had just put his head through the opening. There was a scream of quite another character, and the man fled stumbling and falling on his way out, while Blanchon came back to us with the loud purr, which was his way of expressing complacency. "Good cat," said Andrew. "That man won't find his way back in a hurry, but some one else may. Hold up the light, Vevette." I held up the light while Andrew pulled to the door and with a stone smashed the spring-lock. "Nobody will open that, even if any one dares try," said he. "Now for all the haste we can make." I caught up Blanchon and carried him, to which he made no objection. We were soon in the open air, and walking quickly down the course of the stream which had scooped out the valley, we found ourselves in the little hamlet. It seemed to be deserted. Not a man was to be seen, nor a light, save in Isabeau's cottage. The night had grown wild and stormy, but it was not very dark. And we could see the mast of the boat, which lay at the end of the little pier. "Now if Pierre has been true," said Andrew, and at that moment we heard his voice. "Monsieur and madame, is that you! All is ready; but we shall have a wild night." "Never mind, so long as the wind is fair," returned Andrew, in the same whisper. "I would rather face the sea than the devils we have left behind." We were assisted into the boat. I holding fast to my cat, and set sail. I can give little account of the voyage. I know it was a rough and tempestuous one, and that we were many times in the greatest danger from the rocks and counter currents which make navigation in those parts so difficult. Andrew had the helm most of the time, while Pierre, whose smuggling and other lawless exploits had made him well acquainted with the channel, directed our course. My mother sat quite still under the half-deck of the boat, and I dozed by fits, with Blanchon in my lap, who now and then uttered a peevish growl, as he vainly tried to lick himself dry. "There comes the morning at last," said Le Febre joyously; "and here is the blessed St. Aubin's bay spread out before us, if we can but get into it. I would we had a better pilot than myself." "Yonder comes a boat which has been out all night," said Andrew. And he stood up and hailed her in English: "Boat ahoy!" "Hilloa!" came back, as the stranger rapidly overhauled us. "Who are you?" "English," was the answer. "We have ladies on board. Where are you bound?"