After the Isle of Orleans was
passed, I drew a breath of relief, and played the part of captain
and boatswain merely.
Yet when I looked back at the town on those strong heights, and saw
the bonfires burn to warn the settlers of our escape, saw the lights
sparkling in many homes, and even fancied I could make out the
light shining in my dear wife's window, I had a strange feeling of
loneliness. There in the shadow of my prison walls, was the dearest
thing on earth to me. Ought she not to be with me? She had begged to
come, to share with me these dangers and hardships; but that I could
not, would not grant. She would be safer with her people. As for us
desperate men bent on escape, we must face hourly peril.
Thank God, there was work to do. Hour after hour the swing and
dip of the paddles went on. No one showed weariness, and when the
dawn broke slow and soft over the eastern hills, I motioned my good
boatmen towards the shore, and landed safely. We lifted our frigate
up, and carried her into a thicket, there to rest with us till
night, when we would sally forth again into the friendly darkness.
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