A stiff breeze was blowing, but with wind and tide in her favour the yacht sailed smoothly across the Channel, all on board her, except the baby, being too inured to the sea to feel ill, and, luckily, the movement of the yacht seemed to lull the child to sleep. When she woke Pierre was always at hand with some milk, so that she was scarcely heard to cry during the whole passage, spending the time in sleeping and eating, and thereby enabling Pierre to earn for himself the character of a first-rate nurse.
From time to time during the next day Léon came into the cabin to look at his tiny charge, for whom an impromptu cradle had been made with some pillows in an easy chair, and who seemed to have the happy knack of adapting herself to circumstances, for she slept quietly on, with a smile on her little face, all unconscious of the waves from which a few planks divided her.
"Poor little mite; I hope they'll be kind to her, Smith, these friends of yours. I am half sorry I brought her, though the baron wished it," said Léon, as he left the cabin; but the next moment he was whistling on deck as though no such thing as the baby existed.
Towards evening they came in sight of Brighton, whose long sea front, even in those distant days, stretched for a mile or two along the coast, and Léon, who knew the town well, and considered it one of the few English towns in which he could spend a few days without dying of ennui, was anxious to put in there, but Smith dissuaded him.
"If we put in here, sir, they'll be sure to trace the child; it would be far better to let me go ashore with it in the gig, while you lay outside."
"But where are we to put in then? Having come to England, I mean to go ashore for a day or two."
"Why not run up to Yarmouth, sir; the wind is fair; it is south-west now. You have never been there, have you? And there'll be no fear of anyone tracing the child there. If madame sees in the paper that we touched at Yarmouth, she may inquire all over that part of the country without finding the baby down in Sussex."
Léon considered the matter for a few minutes, and finally consented to this arrangement; and about eight o'clock that evening the gig was lowered, and Pierre, who would not abandon his charge till the last minute, went ashore with John Smith and the baby.
They landed on a quiet spot between Brighton and Rottingdean, and here Smith insisted on Pierre's remaining in charge of the boat while he deposited the baby with his friends. Pierre protested against this; but the carpenter was firm. It would not be safe, he argued, to leave the boat alone for two or three hours, and he might be gone as long as that; and there could be no danger in leaving Pierre there, for if anyone did question him about his business, he would not be able to understand them, as he knew no English.
Pierre found it was useless to make any further objections, so, reluctantly handing the baby over to the carpenter, he prepared to make himself as comfortable as circumstances permitted during Smith's absence. It was a beautiful warm midsummer evening, but Pierre began to feel chilly and tired of waiting long before Smith came back, though he managed to get several naps, curled up in the bottom of the boat. At last, about eleven o'clock, just as Pierre was getting very nervous, and dreading every minute that one of the white ladies of Normandy (those dames blanches who are so cruel to the discourteous) should appear to him, or a hobgoblin or a ghost, in all of which he was, like most Norman peasants, a firm believer, to his intense relief he heard the carpenter whistling in the distance, and a minute or two later Smith arrived, hot and tired, and by no means in a communicative frame of mind, only vouchsafing to tell the anxious Pierre that the baby was safe.
To Léon he was bound to be less reserved, and, according to his own account, he had had no difficulty in persuading his friend the shepherd to take charge of the child. He had asked no awkward questions, and was quite satisfied with the sum of money Smith had left with him. Léon carefully entered the name and address of the shepherd in his pocket-book, and then dismissed the matter from his mind, and gave himself up to enjoying his cruise.
A day or two later they put into Yarmouth, and the arrival of the French yacht, L'Hirondelle, owner M. Léon de Thorens, was duly mentioned in the shipping news of the daily papers. Yarmouth was not a place after Léon's heart, and he would have left the next day, but John Smith had gone ashore and had not returned, so their departure was delayed at first for a few hours; but as Smith still did not appear, Léon began to get anxious, and made inquiries in the town for him, but in vain. At last, after delaying several days, it became evident the man had deserted, and finally Léon set sail without him. His intention on leaving Brighton was to cruise round the coast of Great Britain, visiting the principal seaports on the way; but on finding Smith did not return, his suspicions were awakened as to the safety of the child, and he determined to go back at once to Brighton and see if the child had really been left with the shepherd whose address Smith had given him.
But that night a dense fog came on, and a day or two later a paragraph in the English papers announced a collision had taken place off Harwich with an English trading vessel and the French yacht, L'Hirondelle, in which the latter sunk at once with all hands, not a soul remaining to tell the tale, but some life-belts and spars of wood which were picked up afterwards led to the identification of the yacht, which was known to have left Yarmouth the morning before the collision took place.
(To be continued.)
DINNERS FOR TWO
Many housekeepers complain of the difficulty of providing a change of dishes where the family is small. Really, the number of things that may be served for one or two people is very great, but the serving is important. The writer has endeavoured in the following twenty-four dinners only to give such dishes as with a little care and attention may easily be cooked by a general servant with a rather limited knowledge of cooking. They are also chosen with due regard to expenditure. There are not any extravagant dishes, no stock meat is required for anything, nor is any pastry included in any dinner.
In arranging dinners for a number it is easy to give the weights of the different things that will be required, as there will probably be an average of appetites, but this is not possible for one or two people; for where one person will eat nearly a pound of meat, another will only eat two ounces, so that of quantity the housekeeper must be the best judge, as she knows the appetites for which she has to provide.
1. Mulligatawny soup; fillet steak with mushroom ketchup; baked batter pudding.
2. Flounders water souchet; piece of best end neck of mutton roasted; steamed semolina pudding, lemon sauce.
3. Potato soup; steak and kidney pudding; apples stewed in syrup.
4. Filleted plaice (dressed white); veal cutlets, bacon, and baked tomatoes; cheese fondu.
5. Lobster salad; stewed breast of mutton; cake fritters.
6. Brown onion soup; roast fillet of beef; Spanish rice.
7. Slices of cod fried; toad-in-the-hole; Melbourne pudding.
8. Curried eggs; Irish stew; rice meringue.
9. Potiron; beef steak stewed with vegetables; blancmange.
10. Baked haddock; calves' heart roasted; bread-and-jam pudding.
11. Shrimp toast; roast fillet of mutton; strawberry cream.
12. Turnip soup; breast of veal stewed; apple charlotte.
13. Fried mackerel; boiled rabbit and onion sauce; cheese toast.