"Come," he said, "we have a long walk. En route."
They made a great circuit in the pine-woods, through which Barlasch
led the way with an unerring skill, and descending towards the plain
far beyond Langfuhr they came out on to a lower tableland, below
which the great marshes of the Vistula stretched in the darkness,
slowly merging at last into the sea.
"Those," said Barlasch, pausing at the edge of the slope, "those are
the lights of Oliva, where the Russians are. That line of lights
straight in front is the Russian fleet lying off Zoppot, and with
them are English ships. One of them is the little ship of Captain
d'Arragon. And he will take you home with him; for the ship is
ordered to England, to Plymouth--which is across the Channel from my
own country. Ah--cristi! I sometimes want to see my own country
again--and my own people--mademoiselle."
He went on a few paces and then stopped again, and in the darkness
held up one hand, commanding silence. It was the churches of
Dantzig striking the hour.
"Six o'clock," he whispered, "it will soon be dawn. Yes--we are
half an hour too early."
He sat down, and, by a gesture, bade Desiree sit beside him.
"Yes," he said, "the Captain told me that he is bound for England to
convoy larger ships, and you will sail in one of them. He has a
home in the west of England, and he will take you there--a sister or
a mother, I forget which--some woman. You cannot get on without
women--you others.
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