No Surrender! A Tale of the Rising in La Vendee

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Henty George Alfred. No Surrender! A Tale of the Rising in La Vendee

Preface

Chapter 1: A French Lugger

Chapter 2: The Beginning Of Troubles

Chapter 3: The First Successes

Chapter 4: Cathelineau's Scouts

Chapter 5: Checking The Enemy

Chapter 6: The Assault Of Chemille

Chapter 7: A Short Rest

Chapter 8: The Capture Of Saumur

Chapter 9: Bad News

Chapter 10: Preparations For A Rescue

Chapter 11: The Attack On Nantes

Chapter 12: A Series Of Victories

Chapter 13: Across The Loire

Chapter 14: Le Mans

Chapter 15: In Disguise

Chapter 16: A Friend At Last:

Chapter 17: A Grave Risk

Chapter 18: Home

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Some half a mile back from the sea, near the point where the low line of sandy hill is broken by the entrance into Poole Harbour, stood, in 1791, Netherstock; which, with a small estate around, was the property of Squire Stansfield. The view was an extensive one, when the weather was clear. Away to the left lay the pine forests of Bournemouth and Christ Church and, still farther seaward, the cliffs of the Isle of Wight, from Totland Bay as far as Saint Catherine Point. Close at hand to the south was Studland Bay, bounded by Handfast Point. Looking towards the right was a great sheet of shallow water, for the most part dry at low tide, known as Poole and Wareham Harbours, with its numerous creeks and bays.

Netherstock was an old house, with many nooks and corners. The squire was a justice of the peace but, unless there was some special business on, he seldom took his place on the bench. He was a jovial man, who took life easily. He was popular among his neighbours, especially among the poorer classes; for whom he had always a pleasant word, as he rode along; and who, in case of illness, knew that they could always be sure of a supply of soup, or a gill of brandy at Netherstock.

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The first eighteen months of Patsey's married life passed quietly and happily. She could now speak French fluently and, having made several stays at the country chateau, could make herself understood in the patois. Leigh spoke French as well as English. Fortunately he had picked up a little before leaving home, partly from his tutor, partly from endeavouring to talk with French fishermen and sailors who came into Poole. He frequently made trips in the Henriette, sometimes to Havre and Rouen, at others to Bordeaux. He had grown much, and was now a very strong, active lad. He got on very well with Monsieur Martin; but kept as much apart as he could from his eldest son, for whom he felt a deep personal dislike, and who had always disapproved of Jean's marriage to an Englishwoman.

Jacques Martin was the strongest contrast to his brother. He was methodical and sententious, expressed his opinion on all subjects with the air of a man whose judgment was infallible, and was an ardent disciple of Voltaire and Rousseau. It was very seldom that he entered his father's house, where his opinions on religious subjects shocked and horrified his mother and sister. He lived with an entirely different set, and spent most of his time at the clubs which, in imitation of those of Paris, had sprung up all over the country.

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