Making but short delay, the two crafts bore away across Channel, whilst the Vengeance worked back to the mouth of the Seine. During the day Lieutenant Thornton got up two more guns from the hold of the Vengeance, and mounted them, and repaired the damage done to the rigging and sails. CHAPTER XXXIX. The fifth morning after the cutting out of the Vengeance, Madame Coulancourt and her daughter, and Monsieur Plessis and his family, left the château in two carriages for Havre, to embark in the Ca-Ira chase-mare, apparently destined for Rouen. The party reached Havre in time to take advantage of the first of the flood-tide; and though not without experiencing some degree of anxiety, they felt no positive fear, having seen no more of Monsieur Gramont, and having arranged everything with Dame Moret and her daughters, leaving them under the impression that they were actually going to Paris. Monsieur Plessis, though perfectly persuaded of their fidelity and trustworthiness, yet, for their own sakes, in case of any future investigation, he wished them to remain perfectly clear of any participation in their escape to England. Havre de Grace, seen from the water, presents an imposing and handsome appearance. The breadth of the Seine is considerable; the citadel and arsenal, and the immense storehouses for the construction and arming of ships, give it the appearance of a formidable sea-port town, being entirely surrounded by walls and deep ditches. The harbour of Havre is subject to a curious phenomenon—the tide does not begin to ebb till three hours after the full tide. Having embarked on board the chasse-mare, and all being ready, the warps were cast off, and the sails set, the vessel glided out from the quay into the broad stream, with Havre on one side, and the town and spacious harbour of Honfleur on the other. There was an awning over the stern of the vessel, and the wind being fair, and the tide strong, the Ca-Ira, under her fore-sail and mizen, went rapidly up with the tide. Jean Plessis pointed out to Madame Coulancourt, Mabel, and his daughter Julia, several privateers in the harbour, one a remarkably handsome lugger, the Etoile, which they passed close alongside. “That,” said Jean Plessis, “is a larger vessel than the Vengeance, though not reputed so fast or so fortunate as the other was before her capture. The Etoile has eighty men on board, and carries twelve guns of various calibre. I am told she is going to sea to-morrow evening with a frigate called the Virginie, lying in the outer harbour. This is fortunate, for if we run out to-night we shall be well out of sight—indeed, across the Channel—before they lift their anchors.”