Bill sat down; thanks to his chase after the rabbit, he could get off his garments; and, being ingenious, when he had dried, he contrived to lengthen them, and patch them up, and after another hour’s rest they resumed their journey with dry clothes. The sun was exceedingly hot for the time of year, especially amongst the sand-hills. By this time our travellers were ravenously hungry, having been twenty-four hours without food; all they partook of on board the lugger being wine and brandy. The sand-hills were three miles across from north to south, and appeared to extend for many miles along the coast. From the summit of one, the highest of the group, they obtained a fine clear view of the country beyond, which appeared well wooded and cultivated, with a village spire peeping out from a clump of trees. “I suppose yonder village is Fecamp,” said our hero; “at least I judge so, from the look I took at the chart on the unlucky day we ran in to cut out that confounded lugger.” “I hope we shall be able to get some grog, sir; upon my conscience, your honour, I’m as empty as a dry water-cask.” “I will get you plenty of food, Bill; only keep your mouth shut.” “Whilst I’m eating, sir,” said Bill, with a grin. Accordingly they made direct for the village. They passed several of the country people on their way, who looked at the two powerful men with evident curiosity. They at last got in the high road from the village to some other place, and presently met two very neatly attired country girls, with light baskets on their arms, and a farmer’s market cart, driven by a young lad, following. Lieutenant Thornton stopped and inquired the name of the village before them from one of the girls, a young and very pretty one. The girl looked at the lieutenant with considerable surprise, saying with a curtsey: “Ceaux, monsieur;” and then adding with some slight hesitation, “you are strangers?” “Yes,” returned William Thornton, “we have just been landed from an English vessel of war. Is there a cabaret in the village, my pretty maid?” “Well, no there is not, monsieur,” she replied; “but as you are strangers and may be far from your home, if you go to the house of Dame Moret and say her daughter directed you there, she will, I know, give you food and lodging for the asking.” “Thank you, my good girl, I will do so, and not forget your pretty face when I get there. Are you going far?” The young girl smiled and said: “Only to Havre, monsieur.” “Havre!” repeated the lieutenant, with surprise; “why, are we so close to Havre?” Bill, at this time, was eyeing the eggs and fowls with a ravenous eye. After again thanking the girl, the lieutenant moved on. “So,” said our hero, “we are only three or four miles from Havre after all; too close to be pleasant.”