.

We were about half-way down the harbour, when the sound of oars reached
our ears. A large ship was near us; we paddled softly in, and lay close
alongside under the shelter of her dark shadow. Not a sound was heard
aboard her; every one was asleep. The noise of oars drew near; I
trembled, lest some of her crew might be returning on board, and if they
discovered us, all would be lost. We listened breathlessly; the sound
of the oars passed by; it was the guard-boat going her rounds. Had we
continued pulling a minute longer, we should have been discovered. I
looked up as we lay on our oars; the sky was clear; the stars were
twinkling brightly overhead; there seemed every probability of the fine
weather continuing. In a couple of days at most we might hope once more
to tread our native shores, and be free to go where we might wish.

I need scarcely repeat all the anxious thoughts which crowded on my
mind; the joy, the happiness unspeakable I anticipated. I would not, I
dared not, dwell on the reverse. The sound of the oars was lost in the
distance. La Motte gave a sign to us to shove off, and letting our oars
glide into the water, we again continued our course. Out hearts beat
quick as we approached the fort. The sharp tones of the sentry's
challenge rung on our ears as he saw us passing. "Liberte!" answered La
Motte promptly; another question was asked. "Victoire!" he replied.
"We are ordered out by the captain of the port with a despatch to a
vessel in the offing, I know no more."

"_C'est bien_! you may pass," said an officer, whom the sentry's voice
had summoned from the guard-room.

We pulled on as before; away we glided; now we hoisted our sail.
Gradually the fort was concealed by the darkness from our sight. We
were free!

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

HAPPY PROSPECT OF REACHING ENGLAND--WEATHER CHANGES--HEAVY GALE--EXPECT
TO BE LOST--DAYS AND NIGHTS OF SUFFERING--OUR GREATEST COMFORT--A SHIP
IN SIGHT--DISAPPOINTED AGAIN--ANOTHER SHIP APPEARS--OUR HOPES AND
FEARS--A SNOW-STORM--GET ON BOARD AN EMIGRANT SHIP--CARRIED FAR AWAY
FROM HOME--DEATH OF SHIPMATES.

Once clear of the harbour, without any sail in sight, we all gladly
loosened our tongues. In spite of the cold of a winter's night, our
spirits rose, and all hands laughed and chatted, and talked of what they
would do when they got on shore. We had no necessity to look at our
compass, for the stars enabled us to steer a course for the northward.