They heard the guard turned out; lights passing on the batteries close to them, and row-boats manning.
They double-banked their oars, and, with the assistance of the ebb-tide and obscurity, they were soon out of gun-shot.

They then laid in their oars, shipped their mast, and sailed away from the coast.
It was nine o'clock in the evening when they started, and at daylight the French coast was not to be seen.

Overjoyed at their escape, they commenced an attack upon the provisions and a small keg of wine; and perhaps a more joyful breakfast never was made.

The sun rose in vapour, the sky threatened, but they were free and happy.

The wind freshened, and the boat flew before the gale; the running seas topping over her stern and forcing them continually to bale her out; but all was joy, and freedom turned their "danger to delight." They passed several vessels at a distance, who did not observe them; and before sunset the English coast was in sight.