A couple of minutes later Guyon emerged from the fog and stumbled across the sandbank. Mallory ran to the prow and hauled him on board. Guyon was soaked to the skin and bitterly cold, his face pale and drawn.
“Have they passed yet?”
Mallory nodded. “What happened?”
Guyon explained briefly, shivering repeatedly as the wind cut through his damp clothes. “What do we do now?”
“Get to hell out of here and fast,” Mallory said. “Unless I’m very much mistaken Jacaud will wait for us at the estuary. If we can get down there fast enough we might stand a chance of getting out to sea before they’re ready.”
“And back to lie de Roc?”
“That’s the general idea. You’d better go below. Find your-self some dry clothes and a drink. I’ll get things moving up here.1
He went into the wheelhouse and started the engines. When he put them into reverseFleur de Lys parted easily from the soft mud and he swung the wheel hard over, bring-ing her prow round until she pointed towards the wall of reeds that barred them from the creek.
He took her forward with a burst of speed, repeating his earlier manoeuvre. Once again it proved successful. The reeds parted protestingly and the boat burst into the creek. He turned the wheel to starboard and she swung round, grazing the mud of the opposite bank.
He took her downstream slowly, the engines a murmur inthe rain. Guyon came up from the saloon wearing khaki slacks, rubber boots and a heavy- white sweater with a turtle collar. In one hand he carried a bottle of brandy, in the other a tin mug.
“How do you feel?” Mallory said.,
Guyon grinned and held up the brandy. “How would you expect? It’s Gourvoisier. Like some?”
“I certainly would.”
Mallory took the brandy down in two quick gulps. As a warm glow started to seep through his entire body he took out the packet of Gauloise that Marcel had given them and threw them to Guyon.
“Better have one while the going’s good. Things might get pretty warm within the next ten minutes.”
He took one himself and opened the window of the wheelhouse. Rain kicked into his face and there was a slight wind blowing in from the sea across the marshes, lifting the fog into weird shapes.
Visibility was down to thirty or forty yards, but the reeds were beginning to drop back and the channel widened per-ceptibly. The water lifted in long swelling ripples and waves kicked against the bottom of the boat. They were almost there now and as a curving sandbank appeared a few yards to port he cut the engines and the current carried them in. There was a slight shudder and they stopped.
“What’s the idea?” Guyon asked.
“I’d like to know what the opposition are up to. You stay ù here. I shanty be long.”
Mallory jumped to the sandbank, landing knee-deep in water, waded out and followed its length into the fog until he could no longer seeFleur de Lys. A few minutes later he stood at the end, water splashing in across the sand, and looked out towards He de Yeu. There was no sign ofL’Alouette and he turned and ran back the way he had come, splashing through the shallows as the tide began to lift over the sandbank.
Fleur de Lyswas already swinging out into the deepening channel and he took Guymon’s proffered hand and scrambled over the rail.
“Not a sign of them. As far as I’m concerned I’m going to give her everything she’s got and head out to sea. They’ll have to come up with something pretty good to stop us.”
He went into the wheelhouse, started the engines and re-versed into the channel. Visibility was becoming rather better as the fog lifted andFleur de Lys roared down the centre of the channel, her bow wave surging across the water on either side.
The mouth of the estuary appeared, clear and open to the sea, and Mallory swung the wheel to port to negotiate the great sandbank fifty yards beyond the entrance. As they turned the point, the current pushing against them, they foundL’Alouette waiting.