The Battle of the Strong | Page 9

the duchy of Normandy. Eight times has it descended, and
eight times has it hurried back with broken pinion. Among these
truculent invasions two stand out boldly: the spirited and gallant attack
by Bertrand du Guesclin, Constable of France; and the freebooting
adventure of Rullecour, with his motley following of gentlemen and
criminals. Rullecour it was, soldier of fortune, gambler, ruffian, and
embezzler, to whom the King of France had secretly given the mission
to conquer the unconquerable little island.
From the Chaussey Isles the filibuster saw the signal light which the
traitor Olivier Delagarde had set upon the heights of Le Couperon,
where, ages ago, Caesar built fires to summon from Gaul his devouring
legions.
All was propitious for the attack. There was no moon--only a meagre
starlight when they set forth from Chaussey. The journey was made in
little more than an hour, and Rullecour himself was among the first to
see the shores of Jersey loom darkly in front. Beside him stood the
murderous pilot who was leading in the expedition, the colleague of
Olivier Delagarde.
Presently the pilot gave an exclamation of surprise and anxiety--the
tides and currents were bearing them away from the intended landing-
place. It was now almost low water, and instead of an immediate shore,
there lay before them a vast field of scarred rocks, dimly seen. He gave
the signal to lay-to, and himself took the bearings. The tide was going
out rapidly, disclosing reefs on either hand. He drew in carefully to the
right of the rock known as L'Echiquelez, up through a passage scarce
wide enough for canoes, and to Roque Platte, the south-eastern
projection of the island.
You may range the seas from the Yugon Strait to the Erebus volcano,

and you will find no such landing-place for imps or men as that field of
rocks on the southeast corner of Jersey called, with a malicious irony,
the Bane des Violets. The great rocks La Coniere, La Longy, Le Gros
Etac, Le Teton, and the Petite Sambiere, rise up like volcanic
monuments from a floor of lava and trailing vraic, which at half-tide
makes the sea a tender mauve and violet. The passages of safety
between these ranges of reef are but narrow at high tide; at half-tide,
when the currents are changing most, the violet field becomes the floor
of a vast mortuary chapel for unknowing mariners.
A battery of four guns defended the post on the landward side of this
bank of the heavenly name. Its guards were asleep or in their cups.
They yielded, without resistance, to the foremost of the invaders. But
here Rullecour and his pilot, looking back upon the way they had come,
saw the currents driving the transport boats hither and thither in
confusion. Jersey was not to be conquered without opposition--no army
of defence was abroad, but the elements roused themselves and
furiously attacked the fleet. Battalions unable to land drifted back with
the tides to Granville, whence they had come. Boats containing the
heavy ammunition and a regiment of conscripts were battered upon the
rocks, and hundreds of the invaders found an unquiet grave upon the
Banc des Violets.
Presently the traitor Delagarde arrived and was welcomed warmly by
Rullecour. The night wore on, and at last the remaining legions were
landed. A force was left behind to guard La Roque Platte, and then the
journey across country to the sleeping town began.
With silent, drowsing batteries in front and on either side of them, the
French troops advanced, the marshes of Samares and the sea on their
left, churches and manor houses on their right, all silent. Not yet had a
blow been struck for the honour of this land and of the Kingdom.
But a blind injustice was, in its own way, doing the work of justice. On
the march, Delagarde, suspecting treachery to himself, not without
reason, required of Rullecour guarantee for the fulfilment of his pledge
to make him Vicomte of the Island when victory should be theirs.
Rullecour, however, had also promised the post to a reckless young

officer, the Comte de Tournay, of the House of Vaufontaine, who,
under the assumed name of Yves Savary dit Detricand, marched with
him. Rullecour answered Delagarde churlishly, and would say nothing
till the town was taken--the ecrivain must wait. But Delagarde had been
drinking, he was in a mood to be reckless; he would not wait, he
demanded an immediate pledge.
"By and by, my doubting Thomas," said Rullecour. "No, now, by the
blood of Peter!" answered Delagarde, laying a hand upon his sword.
The French leader called a sergeant to arrest him. Delagarde instantly
drew his sword and attacked Rullecour, but was cut down from behind
by the scimitar of a swaggering Turk, who had joined the