other way. That very evening, the 30th November, 1685 (French or new style), we embarked in a little shallop as soon as it was dusk. Our party consisted of your dear mother, your aunt, Janette Forestier, myself, two young men from Bourdeaux, and six young women from Marennes, twelve in all, in place of the fifty who were ready to embark a few days before. Under cover of the night we passed, without being observed, all the pinnaces that were keeping guard, as well as the Fort of Oleron. At ten o'clock next morning we dropped our anchor to wait for the ship. We had instructed our boatmen that in case of being pursued, they were immediately to run the boat ashore, abandon her, and then "sauve qui pent."
I was as usual well armed to meet any emergency, and I had resolved to defend myself to the last gasp, and never to be taken alive. Thanks be to God, our merciful guide and preserver, I was not put to the trial, for he watched over us and blinded the eyes of our enemies.
We had agreed with the English captain that when we saw him, we should make ourselves known by hoisting a sail and letting it fall three times. About three o'clock in the afternoon we first espied the vessel, but she had the official visitors and pilot still on board. We watched her movements with intense anxiety, and we saw her cast anchor when she reached the extreme point of the Isle of Oleron, then she put out the visitors and pilot, took her boat on board again, got under way and sailed towards us. It was a joyful sight; we felt confident that we had surmounted every difficulty, and we expected in a very few minutes to be under full sail for England. Our joy was of short duration, for at that moment one of the King's frigates hove in sight and gradually
