'But the uniforms ...'
'I'll tell you all about it as we eat breakfast,' Louis said.
They reached the wood and turned off the road, following a track among the trees. After a hundred yards they reached a glade where a man in fisherman's clothes was prodding a small bonfire over which hung a kettle. The soldiers split up and sat down around the fire, joking with the fisherman who began breaking eggs into a large pan.
Ramage beckoned to Stafford and sat down with Louis on a fallen tree trunk. 'Tell me what happened,' Ramage said, 'from the beginning.'
'That screaming,' Louis said in English, 'the moment I heard it I guessed that the daughter or the mother had gone to the lieutenant's room, and as we all ran up the stairs I had time to think. I was hoping you were still in your room, and you were. So I listened to what was going on for a moment or two, slipped into my room to get the loaf with your papers in it - and found Stafford already there.' He gestured to the Cockney to carry on.
'Yus, well, that there screaming at the door froze me fer a moment or two. Then when she ran, I 'opped out of the window an' managed to work meself along a ledge to Louis's room ter try an' get 'old o' the bread. I just reached the drawer when the door opens an' Louis an' me finds ourselves starin' at each uvver. We just had time to arrange a rendy voo an' then out the winder I goes and Louis marches out wiv the loaf stuffed darn 'is trouser leg.'
Louis laughed at the memory. 'After I pretended to inspect my room and you were arrested, I delivered the loaf to the courier and told him what had happened. I knew our main job was done, so I then had to sit down quietly and work out a plan to rescue you —it wasn't too difficult since I knew what the gendarmes would do - and before the courier left for Boulogne at dawn I was able to give him some instructions.
'I guessed we had until Wednesday to arrange things, because the regular sentencings are always on Wednesdays, and the gendarmes like to keep to a schedule - trials on Tuesdays, sentencing on Wednesdays and executions on Thursdays. Well, certain isolated Army camps in the Boulogne-Calais area lost various pieces of uniform on Monday, while other camps lost a few muskets. The losses were so scattered that no one would connect them, and the booty arrived in Amiens late on Tuesday. On Tuesday and Wednesday various men arrived at Amiens, though few of them passed through the police barricades: fortunately the police have the quaint idea that all visitors to a city come in by road.
'I had a friend at the police station who was able to keep me informed about your trial - what did you say that so infuriated the court? - and I was sitting in the back of the hall at the Mairie when you were sentenced, although you would not have recognized me. I was proud of you, by the way! You created quite an impression.
'The rest you can guess: all these men met me here during the night, we put on our uniforms, and the sergeant marched them into the city. Stafford and I stayed here because we might have been recognized.'
'What about the documents that the sergeant showed to the prosecutor, and those for the police at the barricade?' Ramage asked.
'They came up from Boulogne. There's a standard wording for most of these official documents, you know. The important thing is to have a supply of the correct stationery with the appropriate heading printed at the top, and some wax and a seal. Most ministries and committees use the same seal ... I think that omelette is done. By the way, your last dispatch was delivered safely.'
As Ramage listened to Louis describing the arrangements for getting him back to England, he was thankful for the Frenchman's clear, practical mind. Louis had done his best to eliminate chance: tomorrow night the Marie would be fishing along the three-fathom line off Le Tréport, which was not only the nearest fishing port to Amiens but easily spotted from the sea. The great white and grey chalk cliffs of the coast of Normandy flattened out as they stretched northeastward to curve inland and vanish altogether three or four miles beyond Le Tréport. The little fishing port itself was built at the foot of Mount Huon, at the entrance to a valley through which flowed the River Bresle.
If the weather was bad, Louis said, Slushy Dyson would bring the Marie into the actual harbour, small as it was, and let her dry out in the mud at low water, along with the other boats belonging to the port. Le Tréport was about the southern limit for boats fishing from Boulogne, but since bad weather would be the only reason why Dyson would come in, it also provided its own good excuse. A jib stowed below in the cuddy, Louis explained, was held together only by the boltropes, two seams having ripped once in a squall so that a complete panel was missing. 'Our alibi,' Louis said with a wink. 'It gives us a reason for going into anywhere. "Stress of weather," you know. Then we sail direct to England: there will be no time to get to the rendezvous with the Folkestone Marie.'
Ramage, thinking of the thin soles of his boots, asked: 'How many kilometres to Abbeville?'
'About forty-five - that's about twenty-eight miles.'
'And on to Le Tréport?'
'About eighteen miles by road, but we shall be riding crosscountry from Abbeville.' Louis saw that Ramage was looking worried and said reassuringly, 'We march on to Abbeville at a reasonable pace. We go through the town and continue on the road to Boulogne, explaining to the guards at the barricades that we have orders to get you to Boulogne as quickly as possible.
'Once we are clear of Abbeville we leave the road, wait until it is dark, say goodbye to our friends, and climb on board some horses which will be waiting for us. A pleasant night ride to Le Tréport, keeping a mile or two north of the road. We reach a particular house at a village called Mers, on the coast just north of Le Tréport, where we are assured of a welcome and a chance to sleep. We'll then find out if the Marie is in the harbour or out fishing.'
'And if she's out fishing?'
'Then - after resting all day Thursday - we have to haul a small boat down the beach, launch it, and row out to the three-fathom line,
'But if we're seen?'
'We shall be seen: we'll have a lantern, and anyone sufficiently interested in our activities will see that we are busy fishing. If a fishing-boat called Marie from Boulogne happens to see a boat out fishing on the three-fathom line and sails over towards it, well, we shall be half a mile or so offshore and it won't take long for three men to get on board.'
'Three? So you are coming back with us?'
Louis nodded. 'I would like to stay behind, but my friends in Boulogne think it would be a good idea if I went on a holiday until they are absolutely sure that I was not identified at Amiens or at the inn you used at Boulogne. They can deal with the Corporal at the Chapeau Rouge - no, not kill him!' Louis said hastily when he saw Ramage's expression. They'll just explain what he has to gain by having a bad memory for names and faces —but he may have gossiped already . ..'
'You'll have nothing to fear from the British authorities,' Ramage said. 'I will make sure you are given - well, whatever you need.'
Louis held up a hand and grinned. 'You don't have to reassure me! But I have friends over there, you know . . .'
Ramage thought a moment, and then said: 'Louis, I want to help you with papers because - no, wait a moment, let me explain - if you rely on your friends, you are relying on men who are outside the law. Oh yes, I know some of the smugglers' leaders are important men, but there is no need for you to enter the country as a smuggler on the run. With me, you enter the country as someone who has helped a British naval officer. I shall write a report for Lord St Vincent, and you'll be given any papers you need to live in England legally, so that -'
'No, please no,' Louis interrupted. 'I am grateful, and I know there would be no problems. I'll go further - you have already thought what you would do if the Admiralty will not pay a reward, haven't you ...?'