So Near So Far by Parkinson C. Northcote

know where we are!”
    â€œWhat d’you mean, sir?” asked Le Page.
    â€œCan’t you see the whiteness beyond the breakers? That is the shell beach on Herm—couldn’t be anywhere else for a hundred miles around. We were heading straight for it and would have been wrecked in another two minutes. We should have been as certainly wrecked had we turned the other way. Now tack, head north-east for half an hour—we must clear the Bonne Grune—then head due west and we shall be in the Little Russel and so on course for St Peter Port.”
    Now that their position was clear the fog began to lift, affording glimpses of Herm and, soon afterwards, of Guernsey itself. There, presently, was the Brion Tower and Vale Castle. The cutter made more sail as Fiona came on deck and therewas even a passing gleam of sunshine to prove that all was well. Forward, a group of seamen had gathered round a four-pounder which presently saluted Castle Cornet, from which the saluting battery replied, amid a chorus of protest from the seagulls. Delancey had the sense of homecoming which he always had when entering St Peter Port. The red roofs climbing the hillside, the tower of the town church, the ramparts of Castle Cornet on its island, the masts of the shipping, the distant glimpse of Fort George—all these had formed the background to his boyhood. It was good to be home, better to think that he actually owned what was no longer a ruin, best of all to remember that his bride was with him. Sail was reduced until, finally, the cutter glided into the anchorage under her jib alone. The cable slid through the hawse-hole, the anchor struck bottom, and the voyage was over. The boat was now manned which would take them ashore. “Thank God for that!” said Le Page, and Delancey replied “Amen.”

Chapter Seven
“V ENGEANCE ”
    T HEY STAYED on arrival at the Golden Lion and dined there on the following day. As they sat down to dinner a number of men recognised Delancey and came over to greet him in French. He replied in the same language, presenting them to Fiona as Nicolle, Henri, Michel, and Jean-Pierre.
    â€œMichel,” he told Fiona afterwards, “is a smuggler in quite a big way of business. During the war the others there were privateersmen, Jean-Pierre being the most successful of them. Now we are at peace they must be doing something else. Or perhaps they are merely hoping for a renewal of the war. The younger privateersmen will never have had another trade. I myself commanded a privateer at one time. That was back in 1795.”
    â€œAfter the time we first met?”
    â€œYes, a year or so later. I was given the command of a privateer called the
Nemesis.
I was lucky enough to capture a French merchantman called the
Bonne Citoyenne.
It was that prize which enabled me to purchase Anneville.”
    â€œAnd what happened to the
Nemesis?”
    â€œShe was caught by a French corvette and driven ashore by gunfire. I was lucky to escape from Spain, where I was prisoner, and owed my life to a smuggler called Sam Carter, who is master of a lugger called the
Dove.
You will meet him some day for we have remained friends ever since. We have oftensupped together here at the Golden Lion. This is where the privateersmen used to meet and exchange information, making plans and agreeing sometimes to work together. If they meet here still, and it looks as if they do, it will be to talk about old times. They have made a fortune, some of them, and you can see their fine houses along the Grange or in Clifton. I was not a privateer captain for long. I went back to the Navy and was here again as a lieutenant, supping here when off duty and whenever I could afford it.”
    It was thus on a fine day in early October 1803 when Fiona had her first sight of Anneville Manor. She saw a granite building, hidden from the road, slate roofed, with deep window embrasures, showing a hint of battlements and the roof,