Aramis left Porthos sitting at the entrance of the grotto, and bowing his head, he penetrated into the interior of the cavern, imitating the cry of the owl. A little plaintive cooing, a scarcely distinct cry, replied from the depths of the cave. Aramis pursued his way cautiously, and soon was stopped by the same kind of cry as he had first uttered, and this cry sounded within ten paces of him.
“Are you there, Yves?” said the bishop.
“Yes, Monseigneur; Goennec is here likewise. His son accompanies us.”
“That is well. Are all things ready?”
“Yes, Monseigneur.”
“Go to the entrance of the grotto, my good Yves, and you will there find the Seigneur de Pierrefonds, who is resting after the fatigues of our journey; and if he should happen not to be able to walk, lift him up, and bring him here.”
The three men obeyed; but the recommendation Aramis had given to his servants was useless. Porthos, refreshed, had already himself begun the descent, and his heavy step resounded among the cavities formed and supported by columns of silex and granite. As soon as the Seigneur de Bracieux had rejoined the bishop, the Bretons lighted a lantern with which they were furnished, and Porthos assured his friend that he felt as strong as ever.
“Let us visit the canoe,” said Aramis, “and see in the first place what it will hold.”
“Do not go too near with the light,” said the skipper Yves; “for, as you desired me, Monseigneur, I have placed under the bench of the poop, in the coffer you know of, the barrel of powder, and the musket-charges that you sent me from the fort.”
“Very well,” said Aramis; and taking the lantern himself, he examined minutely all parts of the canoe with the precautions of a man who is neither timid nor ignorant in the face of danger. The canoe was long, light, drawing little water, thin of keel,- in short, one of those which have always been so well constructed at Belle-Isle,- a little high in its sides, solid upon the water, very manageable, furnished with planks which in uncertain weather form a sort of bridge over which the waves glide, and which protect the rowers. In two well-closed coffers placed beneath the benches of the prow and the poop, Aramis found bread, biscuit, dried fruits, a quarter of bacon, a good provision of water in leathern bottles,- the whole forming rations sufficient for people who did not mean to quit the coast, and would be able to revictual, if necessity demanded. The arms, eight muskets and as many horse-pistols, were in good condition, and all loaded. There were additional oars, in case of accident, and that little sail called trinquette, which assists the speed of the canoe at the same time the boatmen row, and is so useful when the breeze is slack. When Aramis had seen all these things, and appeared satisfied with the result of his inspection, “Let us consider, Porthos,” said he, “whether to endeavor to get the boat out by the unknown extremity of the grotto, following the descent and the shade of the cavern, or whether it be better to make it slide upon the rollers through the bushes in the open air, levelling the road of the little beach, which is but twenty feet high, and gives at its foot, in the tide, three or four fathoms of good water upon a sound bottom.”
“It must be as you please, Monseigneur,” replied the skipper Yves, respectfully; “but I don’t believe that by the slope of the cavern, and in the dark in which we shall be obliged to manoeuvre our boat, the road will be so convenient as in the open air. I know the beach well, and can certify that it is as smooth as a grass-plot in a garden; the interior of the grotto, on the contrary, is rough,- without again reckoning, Monseigneur, that at the extremity we shall come to the trench which leads into the sea and which perhaps the canoe will not pass.”
“I have made my calculations,” said the bishop, “and I am certain it would pass.”
“So be it; I wish it may, Monseigneur,” the skipper insisted. “But your Greatness knows very well that to make it reach the extremity of the trench, there is an enormous stone to be lifted,- that under which the fox always passes, and which closes the trench like a door.”