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diff --git a/1274-0.txt b/1274-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5c2fbac --- /dev/null +++ b/1274-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7022 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1274 *** + +MARTIN HYDE + +THE DUKE'S MESSENGER + +by John Masefield + + + +CONTENTS + + I. I LEAVE HOME + II. I LEAVE HOME AGAIN + III. I LEAVE HOME A THIRD TIME + IV. I LEAVE HOME FOR THE LAST TIME + V. I GO TO SEA + VI. THE SEA! THE SEA! + VII. LAND RATS AND WATER RATS + VIII. I MEET MY FRIEND + IX. I SEE MORE OF MY FRIEND + X. SOUNDS IN THE NIGHT + XI. AURELIA + XII. BRAVE CAPTAIN BARLOW + XIII. IT BREEZES UP + XIV. A DRINK OF SHERBET + XV. THE ROAD TO LYME + XVI. THE LANDING + XVII. A VOICE AT DAWN + XVIII. I SPEAK WITH AURELIA + XIX. I MEET THE CLUB MEN + XX. THE SQUIRE'S HOUSE + XXI. MY FRIEND AURELIA AND HER UNCLE + XXII. THE PRIEST'S HOLE + XXIII. FREE + XXIV THE END + + + + +MARTIN HYDE + +THE DUKE'S MESSENGER + +by + +John Masefield + + + +CHAPTER I. I LEAVE HOME + +I was born at Oulton, in Suffolk, in the year 1672. I know not the +day of my birth, but it was in March, a day or two after the Dutch war +began. I know this, because my father, who was the clergyman at Oulton, +once told me that in the night of my birth a horseman called upon him, +at the rectory, to ask the way to Lowestoft. He was riding from London +with letters for the Admiral, he said; but had missed his way somewhere +beyond Beccles. He was mud from head to foot (it had been a wet March) +but he would not stay to dry himself. He reined in at the door, just as +I was born, as though he were some ghost, bringing my life in his saddle +bags. Then he shook up his horse, through the mud, towards Lowestoft, so +that the splashing of the horse's hoofs must have been the first sound +heard by me. The Admiral was gone when he reached Lowestoft, poor man, +so all his trouble was wasted. War wastes more energy, I suppose, than +any other form of folly. I know that on the East Coast, during all the +years of my childhood, this Dutch war wasted the energies of thousands. +The villages had to drill men, each village according to its size, to +make an army in case the Dutch should land. Long after the war was over, +they drilled thus. I remember them on the field outside the church, +drilling after Sunday service, firing at a stump of a tree. Once some +wag rang the alarm-bell at night, to fetch them out of their beds. Then +there were the smugglers; they, too, were caused by the war. After the +fighting there was a bitter feeling against the Dutch. Dutch goods were +taxed heavily (spice, I remember, was made very dear thus) to pay for +the war. The smugglers began then to land their goods secretly, all +along the coast, so that they might avoid the payment of the duty. The +farmers were their friends; for they liked to have their gin cheap. +Indeed, they used to say that in an agueish place like the fens, gin was +a necessity, if one would avoid fever. Often, at night, in the winter, +when I was walking home from Lowestoft school, I would see the farmers +riding to the rendezvous in the dark, with their horses' hoofs all +wrapped up in sacks, to make no noise. + +I lived for twelve years at Oulton. I learned how to handle a boat +there, how to swim, how to skate, how to find the eggs of the many wild +fowl in the reeds. In those days the Broad country was a very wild land, +half of it swamp. My father gave me a coracle on my tenth birthday. In +this little boat I used to explore the country for many miles, pushing +up creeks among the reeds, then watching, in the pools (far out of the +world it seemed) for ruffs or wild duck. I was a hardy boy, much older +than my years, like so many only children. I used to go away, sometimes, +for two or three days together, with my friend John Halmer, Captain +Halmer's son, taking some bread, with a blanket or two, as my ship's +stores. We used to paddle far up the Waveney to an island hidden in +reeds. We were the only persons who knew of that island. We were like +little kings there. We built a rough sort of tent-hut there every +summer. Then we would pass the time there deliciously, now bathing, now +fishing, but always living on what we caught. John, who was a wild lad, +much older than I, used to go among the gipsies in their great winter +camp at Oulton. He learned many strange tricks from them. He was a good +camp-companion. I think that the last two years of my life at Oulton +were the happiest years of my life. I have never cared for dry or hilly +countries since. Wherever I have been in the world, I have always longed +for the Broads, where the rivers wander among reeds for miles, losing +themselves in thickets of reeds. I have always thought tenderly of the +flat land, where windmills or churches are the only landmarks, standing +up above the mist, in the loneliness of the fens. But when I was nearly +thirteen years old (just after the death of Charles the Second) my +father died, leaving me an orphan. My uncle, Gabriel Hyde, a man about +town, was my only relative. The vicar of Lowestoft wrote to him, on my +behalf. A fortnight later (the ways were always very foul in the winter) +my uncle's man came to fetch me to London. There was a sale of my +father's furniture. His books were sent off to his college at Cambridge +by the Lowestoft carrier. Then the valet took me by wherry to Norwich, +where we caught a weekly coach to town. That was the last time I ever +sailed on the Waveney as a boy, that journey to Norwich. When I next saw +the Broads, I was a man of thirty-five. I remember how strangely small +the country seemed to me when I saw it after my wanderings. But this is +away from my tale. All that I remember of the coach-ride was my arrival +late at night at the London inn, a dark house full of smells, from which +the valet led me to my uncle's house. + +I lay awake, that first night, much puzzled by the noise, fearing that +London would be all streets, a dismal place. When I fell asleep, I was +waked continually by chiming bells. In the morning, early, I was roused +by the musical calling made by milkmen on their rounds, with that +morning's milk for sale. At breakfast my uncle told me not to go into +the street without Ephraim, his man; for without a guide, he said, I +should get lost. He warned me that there were people in London who made +a living by seizing children (“kidnapping” or “trepanning” them, as it +was called) to sell to merchant-captains bound for the plantations. “So +be very careful, Martin,” he said. “Do not talk to strangers.” He went +for his morning walk after this, telling me that I might run out to play +in the garden. + +I went out of doors feeling that London must be a very terrible place, +if the folk there went about counting all who met them as possible +enemies. I was homesick for the Broads, where everybody, even bad men, +like the worst of the smugglers, was friendly to me. I hated all this +noisy city, so full of dirty jumbled houses. I longed to be in my +coracle on the Waveney, paddling along among the reeds, chucking pebbles +at the water-rats. But when I went out into the garden I found that even +London held something for me, not so good as the Broads, perhaps, but +pleasant in its way. + +Now before I go further, I must tell you that my uncle's house was one +of the old houses in Billingsgate. It stood in a narrow, crowded lane, +at the western end of Thames Street, close to the river. Few of the +houses thereabouts were old; for the fire of London had nearly destroyed +that part of the city, but my uncle's house, with a few more in the +same lane, being built of brick, had escaped. The bricks of some of the +houses were scorched black. I remember, also, at the corner house, three +doors from my uncle's house, the melted end of a water pipe, hanging +from the roof like a long leaden icicle, just as it had run from the +heat eighteen years before. I used to long for that icicle: it would +have made such fine bullets for my sling. I have said that Fish Lane, +where my uncle lived, was narrow. It was very narrow. The upper stories +of the houses opposite could be touched from my bed-room window with an +eight-foot fishing rod. If one leaned well out, one could see right into +their upper rooms. You could even hear the people talking in them. + +At the back of the house there was a garden of potherbs. It sloped down +to the river-bank, where there were stairs to the water. The stairs +were covered in, so as to form a boat-house, in which (as I learned +afterwards) my uncle's skiffs were kept. You may be sure that I lost +no time in getting down to the water, after I had breakfasted with my +uncle, on the morning after my arrival. + +A low stone parapet, topped by iron rails, shut off the garden from the +beach. Just beyond the parapet, within slingshot, as I soon proved, was +the famous Pool of London, full of ships of all sorts, some with flags +flying. The mild spring sun (it was early in April) made the sight +glorious. There must have been a hundred ships there, all marshalled in +ranks, at double-moorings, head to flood. Boats full of merchandise were +pulling to the wharves by the Custom House. Men were working aloft on +the yards, bending or unbending sails. In some ships the sails hung +loose, drying in the sun. In others, the men were singing out as they +walked round the capstan, hoisting goods from the hold. One of the ships +close to me was a beautiful little Spanish schooner, with her name La +Reina in big gold letters on her transom. She was evidently one of those +very fast fruit boats, from the Canary Islands, of which I had heard the +seamen at Oulton speak. She was discharging oranges into a lighter, when +I first saw her. The sweet, heavy smell of the bruised peels scented the +river for many yards. + +I was looking at this schooner, wishing that I could pass an hour in her +hold, among those delicious boxes, when a bearded man came on deck from +her cabin. He looked at the shore, straight at myself as I thought, +raising his hand swiftly as though to beckon me to him. A boat pushed +out instantly, in answer to the hand, from the garden next to the one +in which I stood. The waterman, pulling to the schooner, talked with the +man for a moment, evidently settling the amount of his fare. After the +haggling, my gentleman climbed into the boat by a little rope-ladder at +the stern. Then the boatman pulled away upstream, going on the last of +the flood, within twenty yards of where I stood. + +I had watched them idly, attracted, in the beginning, by that sudden +raising of the hand. But as they passed me, there came a sudden puff +of wind, strong enough to flurry the water into wrinkles. It lifted the +gentleman's hat, so that he saved it only by a violent snatch which +made the boat rock. As he jammed the hat down he broke or displaced some +string or clip near his ears. At any rate his beard came adrift on the +side nearest to me. The man was wearing a false beard. He remedied the +matter at once, very cleverly, so that I may have been the only witness; +but I saw that the boatman was in the man's secret, whatever it was. He +pulled hard on his starboard oar, bringing the boat partly across the +current, thus screening him from everybody except the workers in the +ships. It must have seemed to all who saw him that he was merely pulling +to another arch of London Bridge. + +I was not sure of the man's face. It seemed handsome; that was all that +I could say of it. But I was fascinated by the mystery. I wondered +why he was wearing a false beard. I wondered what he was doing in the +schooner. I imagined all sorts of romantic plots in which he was taking +part. I watched his boat go through the Bridge with the feeling that +I was sharing in all sorts of adventures already. There was a fall of +water at the Bridge which made the river dangerous there even on a flood +tide. I could see that the waves there would be quite enough for such a +boat without the most tender handling. I watched to see how they would +pass through. Both men stood up, facing forwards, each taking an oar. +They worked her through, out of sight, in a very clever fashion; which +set me wondering again what this handsome gentleman might be, who worked +a boat so well. + +I hung about at the end of the garden until dinner time, hoping that +they would return. I watched every boat which came downstream, finding +a great pleasure in the watermen's skill, for indeed the water at the +Bridge was frightful; only a strong nerve could venture on it. But the +boat did not come back, though one or two other boats brought people, or +goods, to the stairs of the garden beside me. I could not see into the +garden; that party wall was too high. + +I did not go indoors again till Ephraim came to fetch me, saying that it +was time I washed my hands for dinner. I went to my room; but instead +of washing my hands, I leaned out of the window to watch a dancing bear +which was sidling about in the lane, just below, while his keeper made +a noise on the panpipes. A little crowd of idlers was gathered round the +bear. Some of them were laughing at the bear, some at his keeper. I saw +two boys sneaking about among the company; they were evil-looking +little ruffians, with that hard look in the eyes which always marks the +thoroughly wicked. As I watched, one of them slipped his hand into +a man's pocket, then withdrew it, passing something swiftly to his +companion, who walked unconcernedly away. I ran out of doors at once, to +the man who had been robbed. + +“Sir,” I said, when he had drawn away from the little crowd. “Have you +not been robbed of something?” + +He turned to look down on me, searching his pockets with both hands. It +gave me a start to see him, for he was the bearded man who had passed +me in the boat that morning. You may be sure that I took a good note of +him. He was a handsome, melancholy-looking man, with a beard designed to +make him look fairer than he really was. + +“Robbed of something?” he repeated in a quiet voice. “Yes, I have been +robbed of something.” It seemed to me that he turned pale, when he found +that he had been robbed. “Did you see it?” he asked. “Don't point. Just +describe him to me. No. Don't look round, boy. Tell me without looking +round.” + +“Sir,” I said, “do you see two little boys moving about among the people +there?” + +“Yes,” he said. + +“It's the boy with the bit of broken pipe in his hat who has the, +whatever it was, sir, I'm sure. I saw it all.” + +“I see,” he said. “That's the coveter. Let this be a warning to you, +boy, never to stop in a crowd to watch these street-performers. Where +were you, when you saw it?” + +“Up above there, sir. In that house.” + +“In Mr. Hyde's house. Do you live there?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Since when? Not for long, surely?” + +“No, sir. Only since yesterday. I'm Mr. Hyde's nephew.” + +“Ah! Indeed. And that is your room up there?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Where do you come from then? You've not been in town before. What is +your father?” + +“My father's dead, sir. I come from Oulton. My father was rector there.” + +“Ah,” he said quietly. “Now give this penny to the bear-ward.” + +While I was giving the penny to the keeper, the strange man edged among +the lookers-on, apparently watching the bear's antics, till he was just +behind the pickpocket's accomplice. Watching his time, he seized the boy +from behind by both wrists. + +“This boy's a pickpocket,” he cried aloud. “Stop that other boy. He's an +accomplice.” The other boy, who had just taken a purse, started to +run, letting the booty drop. A boatman who was going towards the river, +tripped him up with an oar so that he fell heavily. He lay still where +he had fallen (all the wind was knocked out of him) so that he was +easily secured. The boy who had been seized by the bearded man made no +attempt to get away. He was too firmly held. Both boys were then marched +off to the nearest constable where (after a strict search), they were +locked into a cellar till the morrow. The crowd deserted the bear-ward +when the cry of pickpockets was raised. They followed my mysterious +friend to the constable's house, hoping, no doubt, that they would be +able to crowd in to hear the constable bully the boys as he searched +them. One or two, who pretended to have missed things, managed to get +in. The bearded man told me to come in, as he said that I should be +needed as a witness. The others were driven out into the street, where, +I suppose, their monkey-minds soon found other game, a horse fallen +down, or a drunken woman in the gutter, to divert their idleness. Such +sights seem to attract a London crowd at once. + +The boys were strictly searched by the constable. The booty from their +pockets was turned out upon the table. + +“Now, sir,” said the constable to the bearded man, after he had made a +note of my story. “What is it they 'ad of you, sir?” + +“A shagreen leather pocket-book,” said the man. “There it is.” + +“This one?” said the constable. + +“Yes.” + +“Oh,” said the constable, opening the clasps, so that he could examine +the writing on the leaves. “What's inside?” + +“A lot of figures,” said the man. “Sums. Problems in arithmetic.” + +“Right,” said the constable, handing over the book. + +“Here you are, sir. What name, sir?” + +“Edward Jermyn.” + +“Edward German,” the constable repeated. + +“Where d' you live, sir?” + +“At Mr. Scott's in Fish Lane.” + +“Right, sir,” said the constable, writing down the address, “You must +appear tomorrow at ten before Mr. Garry, the magistrate. You, too, young +master, to give your evidence.” + +At this the boys burst out crying, begging us not to appear, using all +those deceptive arts which the London thieves practise from childhood. +I, who was new to the world's deceits, was touched to the marrow by +their seeming misery. The constable roughly silenced them. “I know you,” + he said. “I had my eye on you two ever since Christmas. Now you'll go +abroad to do a bit of honest work, instead of nickin' pockets. Stow your +blubbering now, or I'll give you Mogador Jack.” He produced “Mogador +Jack,” a supple shark's backbone, from behind the door. The tears +stopped on the instant. + +After this, the bearded man showed me the way back to Fish Lane, where +Ephraim, who was at the door, looking out for me, gave me a shrewd +scolding, for venturing out without a guide. + +Mr. Jermyn silenced him by giving him a shilling. The next day, Mr. +Jermyn took me to the magistrate's house, where the two thieves were +formally committed for trial. Mr. Jermyn told me that they would +probably be transported for seven years, on conviction at the +Assizes; but that, as they were young, the honest work abroad, in the +plantations, might be the saving of them. “So do not be so sad, Mr. +Martin,” he said. “You do not know how good a thing you did when you +looked out of the window yesterday. Do you know, by the way, how much my +book is worth?” + +“No, sir,” I said. + +“Well. It's worth more than the King's crown,” he said. + +“But I thought it was only sums, sir.” + +“Yes,” he said, with a strange smile. “But some sums have to do with a +great deal of money. Now I want you to think tonight of something to the +value of twenty pounds or so. I want to give you something as a reward +for your smartness. Don't decide at once. Think it over. Here we are at +our homes, you see. We live just opposite to each other.” + +We were standing at this moment in the narrow lane at my uncle's door. +As he spoke, he raised his hand in a farewell salute with that dignity +of gesture which was in all his movements. On the instant, to my +surprise, the door of the house opposite opened slowly, till it was +about half open. No one opened it, as I could see; it swung back of +itself. After my friend had stepped across the threshold it swung to +with a click in the same mysterious way. It was as though it had a +knowledge of Mr. Jermyn's mind, as though the raised hand had had a +magical power over it. When I went indoors to my uncle's house I was +excited. I felt that I was in the presence of something romantic, +something mysterious. I liked Mr. Jermyn. He had been very kind. But +I kept wondering why he wore a false beard, why his door opened so +mysteriously, why he valued a book of sums above the worth of a King's +crown. As for his offer of a present, I did not like it, though he had +not given me time to say as much. I remembered how indignant the Oulton +wherrymen had been when a gentleman offered them money for saving his +daughter's life. I had seen the man robbed, what else could I have done? +I could have done no less than tell him. I resolved that I would refuse +the gift when next I saw him. + +At dinner that day, I was full of Mr. Jermyn, much to my uncle's +annoyance. + +“Who is this Mr. Jermyn, Martin?” he asked. “I don't know him. Is he a +gentleman?” + +“Yes, uncle.” + +“Do you know him, Ephraim?” + +“No, sir. I know him by sight, sir. Gentleman who lives over the way, +Mr. Hyde.” + +“That's Mr. Scott's, though.” + +“No, sir. Mr. Jermyn's been there ever since February.” + +“But the house is empty.” + +“The lower floor is furnished, sir.” + +“Do you know anything of him? Do you know his man?” + +“They say he's in the fruit way, sir. In the Spanish trade. His men are +Spaniards. They do say he's not quite to be trusted.” + +“Who says this?” my uncle asked. + +“I don't like to mention names, sir,” Ephraim said. + +“Quite right. Quite right. But what do they say?” + +“Very queer things goes on in that 'ouse,” said Ephraim. “I don't 'ardly +like to say. But they think 'e raises the devil, sir. Awful noises goes +on there. I seen some things myself there, as I don't like to talk of. +Well. I saw a black bird as big as a man stand flapping in the window. +Then I seen eyes glaring out at the door. They give the 'ouse a bad +name, sir; everyone.” + +“H'm,” said my uncle. “What's he like, Martin, this Mr. Jermyn?” + +“A tall man, with a beard,” I answered. I thought it wrong to mention +that I knew the beard to be false. “He's always stroking the bridge of +his nose with his hand.” + +“Ha,” my uncle said, as though recognizing the trait. “But with a beard, +you tell me?” + +“Yes, sir. With a beard.” + +“H'm,” he answered, musing, “I must have a look at this Mr. Jermyn. +Remember, Martin, you're to have nothing more to do with him, till I +know a little more of what he is. You understand?” + +“Yes, uncle.” + +“One cannot be too careful in this town. I won't allow you in the +streets, Martin. No matter who has his pockets picked. I told you that +before.” + +“Please, uncle, may I go on the river, then, if I'm not to go into the +street? I'm used to boats.” + +“Yes. You may do that. But you're not to go on board the ships, mind.” + +“Beg pardon, sir,” Ephraim put in. “The fall at the Bridge is very +risky, sir.” + +“It is?” said my uncle, testily. “Then of course you can't go in a boat, +Martin. You must play in the garden, or read.” + + + +CHAPTER II. I LEAVE HOME AGAIN + +I thought Ephraim a pig for putting in that word about the fall. Though +I had only known Ephraim for a few days I disliked him perhaps as much +as he disliked me. He was angry (I could feel it) at having a boy in the +house, after many years of quiet alone with my uncle. I know that when +he had occasion to speak to me, he always went away muttering about my +being a charity brat who ought to be in the poor-house. Still, like most +servants, he vented most of his malice indirectly, as in this hint of +his about the river. I rose up from the dinner-table full of rebellion. +I would go on the river, I said to myself, fall or no fall. I would see +more of Mr. Jermyn, too. I would find out what went on in that house. I +would find out everything. In all this, of course, I was very wrong, +but having made sure that I was being treated unjustly I felt that I was +only doing right in rebelling. So after waiting till Ephraim was in the +pantry, washing up the dinner-things with the housemaid, I slipped down +the garden to the boat-house. The door was padlocked, as I had feared; +but with an old hammer-head I managed to pry off the staple. I felt like +a burglar when the lock came off in my hand. I felt that I was acting +deceitfully. Then the thought of Ephraim came over me, making me +rebellious to my finger-tips. I would go on the river, I said to myself, +I would go aboard all the ships in the Pool. I would show them all that +I could handle a boat anywhere. So in a moment my good angel was beaten. +I was in the boat-house, prying at the staple of the outer door, like +the young rogue that I was. Well, I paid a heavy price for that day of +disobedience. It was the most dearly bought day's row I ever heard of. + +It took me a few moments to open the outer door. Then, with a thrill of +pleasure, such as only those who love the water can fed, I thrust out +into the river, on to the last of the ebb, then fast ebbing. The fall +under the bridge at that state of the tide was truly terrifying. It +roared so loudly that I could hear nothing else. It boiled about the +bridge piers so fiercely that I was scared to see it. I had seen the sea +in storm; but then one does not put to sea in a storm. This waterfall +tumbled daily, even in a calm. I shuddered to think of small boats, +caught in the current above it, being drawn down, slowly at first, then +with a whirl, till all was whelmed in the tumble below the arches. I saw +how hatefully the back wash seemed to saunter back to the fall along the +banks. I thought that if I was not careful I might be caught in the back +wash, drawn slowly along it by the undertow, till the cataract sank +me. As I watched the fall, fascinated, yet scared by it, there came +a shooting rush, with shouts of triumph. A four-oared wherry with two +passengers shot through the arch over the worst of the water into the +quiet of the midstream. They waved to me, evidently very pleased with +their exploit. That set me wondering whether the water were really as +bad as it looked. My first feat was to back up cautiously almost to the +fall, till my boat was dancing so vigorously that I was spattered all +over. Standing up in the boat there, I could see the oily water, like a +great arched snake's back, swirl past the arch towards me, bubbleless, +almost without a ripple, till it showed all its teeth at once in +breaking down. The piers of the arches jutted far out below the fall, +like pointed islands. I was about to try to climb on the top of one +from the boat, a piece of madness which would probably have ended in my +death, but some boys in one of the houses on the bridge began to pelt +me with pebbles, so that I had to sheer off. I pulled down among the +shipping, examining every vessel in the Pool. Then I pulled down the +stream, with the ebb, as far as Wapping, where I was much shocked by +the sight of the pirates' gallows, with seven dead men hung in chains +together there, for taking the ship Delight, so a waterman told me, on +the Guinea Coast, the year before. I left my boat at Wapping Stairs, +while I went into a pastry-cook's shop to buy cake; for I was now +hungry. The pastry-cook was also a vintner. His tables were pretty well +crowded with men, mostly seafaring men, who were drinking wine together, +talking of politics. I knew nothing whatever about politics, but hearing +the Duke of Monmouth named I pricked up my ears to listen. My father had +told me, in his last illness, when the news of the death of Charles the +Second reached us, that trouble would come to England through this Duke, +because, he said, “he will never agree with King James.” Many people +(the Duke himself being one of them) believed that this James Scott, +Duke of Monmouth, was the son of a very beautiful woman by Charles the +Second, who (so the tale went) had married her in his wanderings abroad, +while Cromwell ruled in England here. I myself shall ever believe this +story. I am quite sure, now, in my own mind, that Monmouth was our +rightful King. I have heard accounts of this marriage of Charles the +Second from people who were with him in his wanderings. When Charles the +Second died (being poisoned, some said, by his brother James, who wished +to seize the throne while Monmouth was abroad, unable to claim his +rights) James succeeded to the crown. At the time of which I write he +had been King for about two months. I did not know anything about his +merits as a King; but hearing the name of Monmouth I felt sure, from the +first, that I should hear more of what my father had told me. + +One of the seamen, a sour-looking, pale-faced man, was saying that +Holland was full of talk that the Duke was coming over, to try for the +Kingdom. Another said that it wasn't the Duke of Monmouth but the Duke +of Argyle that was coming, to try, not for England, but for Scotland. A +third said that all this was talk, for how could a single man, without +twenty friends in the world, get through a cruising fleet? “How could he +do anything, even if he did land?” + +“Ah,” said another man. “They say that the West is ready to rally around +him. That's what they say.” + +“Well,” said the first, raising his cup. “Here's to King James, I say. +England's had enough of civil troubles.” The other men drank the toast +with applause. It is curious to remember how cautious people were in +those troublous days. One could never be sure of your friend's true +opinion. It was a time when there were so many spies abroad that +everybody was suspicious of his neighbour. I am sure that a good half +of that company was disloyal; yet they drank that toast, stamping their +feet, as though they would have shed their blood for King James with all +the pleasure in life. “Are you for King James, young waterman?” said one +of the men to me. “Yes,” I said, “I am for the rightful King.” At this +they all laughed. One of the men said that if there were many like me +the Duke of Monmouth might spare himself the trouble of coming over. + +I finished my cake quietly, after that. Then, as the tide was not yet +making, to help me back up the river, I wandered into Wapping fields, +where a gang of beggars camped. They were a dirtier, more troublesome +company than the worst of the Oulton gipsies. They crowded round me, +whining about their miseries, with the fawning smiles of professional +beggars. There were children among them who lied about their wants as +glibly as their parents lied. The Oulton beggars had taught me to refuse +such people, as being, nearly always, knaves; so I said that I had +nothing for them. I felt the hands of these thieves lightly feeling the +outsides of my pockets for something worth taking. One of them with +a sudden thrust upon me snatched my handkerchief. He tossed it to a +friend. As he started to run from me, a young man with an evil, weak +face pushed me backwards with a violent shove. I staggered back, from +the push, to fall over a boy who had crouched behind me there, ready to +upset me. When I got up, rather shaken from my fall, the dirty gang +was scattering to its burrow; for they lived, like beasts, in holes +scratched in the ground, thatched over with sacks or old clothes. +I hurried back toward Wapping in the hope of finding a constable to +recover my handkerchief for me. The constable (when I found him) refused +to stir until I made it worth his while. Sixpence was his fee, he said, +but he was sure that a handsome young gentleman like myself would not +grudge a sixpence to recover a handkerchief. On searching for my purse +(in which I had about two shillings) I found that that had gone, too, +“nicked” by these thieves. I told the Constable that my purse had been +stolen. + +“Oh,” he said. “How much was in it?” I told him. + +“Could you describe the man who took it?” + +“No.” I said. “I did not see the man take it.” + +“Then how do you know that anybody took it?” + +Of course I did not know that anybody had taken it but thought it highly +probable. “That won't do here,” he said, settling down in his chair to +his tobacco. “I'll look into it. If I hear of it, why, next time you +come here, you shall have it.” + +“But my handkerchief,” I said. + +“Sixpence is my fee,” the brute answered. “Do you want to rob a poor man +of his earnings? Why, what a rogue you must be, young master.” I tried +to move him to recover my handkerchief, but without success. At last, +growing weary of the sound of my pipe, as he said, he rounded on me. + +“If you don't run away 'ome,” he said, “I'll commit you for a nuisance. +Think I'm goin' to be bothered by yer. Be off, now.” + +At that, I set off down to the river. There I found two dirty little +boys in my uncle's boat, busy with the dipper, trying to fill her with +water. I boxed the ears of one of them, when the other, coming behind +me, hit me over the head with the stretcher. I turned sharply, giving +him a punch which made his nose bleed. The other, seeing his chance +(my back being turned) promptly soused me with the dipper. I saw that I +would have to settle one of them at a time, so, paying no attention +to the dipper, I followed up my blow on the nose with one or two more, +which drove the stretcher-boy out of the boat. The other was a harder +lad; who would, perhaps, have beaten me, had not a waterman on the +stairs taken my part. He took my enemy by the ear. “Get out of that,” he +said, giving him a kick. “If I catch you messing boats again, I'll give +you Mogador Jack.” I pushed off from the stairs then, glad to get away +with both oars. My enemies, running along the banks, flung stones at +me as long as I was in range. If I had had my sling with me, would have +warmed their legs for them. When was out of range of their shot, I laid +in my oars, so that I could bail. The boys had poured about six inches +of water into the boat. If the plug had been less tightly hammered in, +they would no doubt have sunk her at her painter by pulling it out. Then +should have been indeed in difficulty. It took me about twenty minutes +to bail the boat clear. As I bailed her, I thought that Londoners must +be the most unpleasant people in the world, since, already, in two days, +I had met so many knaves. It did not occur to me at the time that I was +a young knave, too, to be out in a stolen boat, against orders. I never +once thought how well I had been served for my disobedience. + +I had an uncomfortable journey upstream, for I was very wet from my +sousing. I loitered at the Tower to watch the garrison drilling with the +big guns. Then I loitered about among the ships, reading their names, or +even climbing their gangways to look at their decks. I lingered a long +time at the schooner La Reina, partly because she was much the prettiest +ship in the Pool, but partly because I was beginning to dread Ephraim. +I wondered whether Mr. Jermyn was on board of her. I was half tempted to +climb aboard to find out. I clambered partly up her gangway, so that I +could peer over the rail. To my surprise, I found that her hatches were +battened down as in ships ready for the sea. Her cargo of oranges, that +had smelt so sweetly, must have been a blind, for no ship, discharging +cargo the day before, could be loaded, ready for sea, within twenty-four +hours. Indeed, she was in excellent trim. She was not too light to put +to sea. No doubt, I said to myself, she has taken in ballast to equal +the weight of oranges sent ashore. But I knew just enough of ships to +know that there was some mystery in the business. The schooner could not +be the plain fruit-trader for which men took her. As I looked over her +rail, noting this, I said to myself that “here is another mystery with +which Mr. Jermyn has to do.” I felt a thrill of excitement go through +me. I was touching mysterious adventure at half a dozen different +points. I felt inclined to creep to the hatchway of the little cabin, to +listen there if any plots were being hatched. It was getting duskish by +this time, it must have been nearly seven o'clock. Two men came up the +cabin hatch together. One of them was Mr. Jermyn, the other a shorter +fellow, to whom Mr. Jermyn seemed extremely respectful. I wished not to +be seen, so I ducked down nimbly into my boat, drawing her forward by +a guess-warp, till I could row without being heard by them. I heard Mr. +Jermyn calling to a waterman; so very swiftly I paddled behind other +ships in the tier, without being observed. Then I paddled back to my +uncle's boat-house, the door of which, to my horror, was firmly fastened +against me. + + + +CHAPTER III. I LEAVE HOME A THIRD TIME + +I must have made some little noise at the door, trying to get in. At any +rate, Ephraim, who was waiting for such a signal, came forward with a +churlish glee to rate me. + +“So you're come back, Mr. Martin,” he said. “These are nice carryings-on +for a young gentleman.” I thought that I might as well be hanged for a +sheep as for a lamb. Ephraim's tone jarred me, so I told him to shut up, +as I didn't want any of his jaw. This rather staggered him, so I told +him further to open the boat-house, instead of standing like a stock, +as I wanted to moor the boat. He opened the door for me, glowering at me +moodily. “Mr. Hyde shall know of this,” he said when all was secured. He +caught me by the arm to drag me out of the boat-house; so I, expecting +this, rapped him shrewdly with the stretcher on the elbow. I thought for +a moment that he would beat me. I could see his face very fierce in the +dusk. I heard his teeth gritting. Then fear of my uncle restrained him. +All that he said was, “If I 'ad my way I'd 'ave it out of you for this. +A good sound whippin's what you want.” + +“Is it?” I asked contemptuously. “Lock the door.” + +Ephraim left me in the sitting-room while he made his report to my +uncle. It was not a long report. He returned in a few minutes to say +that I was to be locked into my room without supper. “Mr. 'Ide is in a +fine taking,” he said. “Per'aps 'e'll knock some of your pride out +of you.” I made no answer, but let him march me to my room, to the +execution of the sentence. “There,” he said, through the door, as he +turned the key on me. “Per'aps that'll bring you to your senses.” + +“Ephraim the stiff-neck!” I answered loudly; “Old Ephraim Stiff-neck! +Stiff-neck!” + +“Ah,” he answered, clumping down the corridor. He was thinking how small +I should sing when, in the morning, he gave me the option of apologizing +to him, or going without breakfast. + +It was pretty dark by this time. Fish Lane was as quiet as a country +road. No one was stirring there. I thought that, as my uncle would +shortly go to supper, I might soon venture out by the window, high up +as it was, to buy myself some food in the town. I liked the notion; but +when I came to look down from the window it seemed a giddy height from +the pavement. Going down would be easy; but getting back would be quite +another matter. Thinking it over, I remembered that I had seen a short +gardener's ladder hooked to the garden wall. If I could make a rope, by +which to let myself down, I could, I thought, make use of this ladder +to get back by, for it would cover nearly half the height to my window +sill, a full thirty feet from the ground. If, by standing on the upper +rungs, could reach within five yards of the window, I knew that I should +be able to scramble up so far by a rope. There was no difficulty about a +rope. I had a good eighteen yards of choice stout rope there in the room +with me, the lashings of my two trunks. I was about to pay this out into +the lane, when I thought that would be far more effective if I fashioned +a ladder for myself, using the two trunk lashings as the uprights. This +was a glorious thought. I tied the lashings together behind the wooden +bed-post which was to be my support in midair. Then I rummaged out a +hank of sailor's spunyarn, a kind of very strong tarred string, with +which to make my steps, or rungs, did not do this very well, for I was +working in the dark, but you may be sure that I made those steps with +all my strength, since my bones were to depend upon them. I ran short of +spunyarn before I had finished, so my last three steps were made of the +fire-irons. They made a good finish to the whole; for, being heavy, they +kept the ladder steady. At least thought that they would keep the ladder +steady, in the innocence of my heart. + +I was so excited, when I finished the tying of the tongs, that I almost +forgot to take some money from the little store which I kept locked up +in my trunk. A shilling would be ample, I thought; but I took rather +more than that, so as to be on the safe side. I took the precaution, +before leaving, of bolting my door from the inside, lest Ephraim should +visit me in my absence. + +Then, having tested all my knots, I paid out my ladder from the window. +No one was within sight along the lane. Downstairs they were at supper, +for I heard the dining-room bell ring. Very cautiously I swung myself +over the window ledge on my adventure. Now a rope ladder is an unsteady +thing at the best of times; but when I swung myself on to this one it +jumped about like a wild colt, banging the fire-irons against the wall, +making noise enough to raise the town. I had to climb down it on the +inner side, or I should have had Ephraim out to see what the matter was. +Even so, my heart was in my mouth, with fright, as I stepped on to the +pavement. After making sure that no one saw, I hooked up the lower ends +of my ladder as far as I could reach, so that a passer-by might run less +chance of seeing them. Then I scuttled off to the delights of Eastcheap, +thinking what glorious sport I could have with this ladder in time to +come. I thought of the moonlight adventures on the river, skulking along +in my boat, like a pirate on a night attack. I thought how, perhaps, I +should overhear gangs of highwaymen making their plans, or robbers in +their dens, carousing after a victory. It seemed to me that London might +be a wonderful place, to one with such a means of getting out at night. + +I ate a good supper at a cook-shop, sauntered about the streets for +awhile, then sauntered slowly home, after buying a tinder box, with +which to light my candies. I found my ladder dangling unnoticed, so I +nimbly climbed to my room, pulling it up after me, like the savages in +Polynesia. I lit my candles, intending to read; but I found that I was +far too well inclined to mischief to pay much heed to my book. Casting +about for something to do, I thought that I would open a little locked +door which led to some (apparently disused) room beyond my own. I had +some difficulty in breaking the lock of this door; but a naughty boy is +generally very patient. I opened it at last, with some misgivings as to +what my uncle might say on the morrow, though with the feeling that I +was a sort of conspirator, or, shall we say, a man haunting a house, +playing ghost, coming at night to his secret chamber. I was disappointed +with the room. Like my own room, it was nothing more than a long, bare +attic. It had a false floor, like many houses of the time, but there was +no thought of concealment here. Half a dozen of the long flooring planks +were stored in a stack against the wall, so that anyone could see what +lay in the hollow below. There was nothing romantic there. A long array +of docketed, ticketed bundles of receipts filled more than half the +space. I suppose that nearly every bill which my uncle had ever paid lay +there, gathering dust. The rest of the space was filled with Ephraim's +dirty old account books, jumbled higgledy-piggledy with collections of +printed, unbound sermons, such as used to be sold forty years before, in +the great Puritan time. I examined a few of the sermons, hoping to find +some lighter fare among them. I examined also a few of the old account +books, in the same hope. Other rubbish lay scattered in the corners +of the room; old mouse-eaten saddle-bags mostly. There were one or two +empty baskets, which had once been lined with silk. In one of them, I +can't think why, there was an old empty, dusty powder-horn, the only +thing in that room at all to my taste. I stuck it into my belt with a +scrap of spunyarn, feeling that it made me a wonderful piratical figure. +If I had had a lantern I should have been a very king there. + +As I sat among the rubbish there, with my pistol (a sailmaker's fid) in +my belt, it occurred to me that I would sit up till everyone had gone +to bed. Then, at eleven or twelve o'clock, I would, I thought, creep +downstairs, to explore all over the house, down even to the cellars. It +shocked me when I remembered that I was locked in. I dared not pick the +lock of that door. My scheme (after all) would have to wait for another +night, when the difficulties would be less. That scheme of mine has +waited until the present time. Though I never thought it, that was the +last hour I was to spend in my uncle's house. I walked past it, only the +other day, thinking how strange my life has been, feeling sad, too, that +I should never know to what room a door at the end of the upper passage +led. Well, I never shall know, now. I was a wild, disobedient young +rogue. Read on. + +When I decided not to pick the lock of my door I thought of the +mysterious Mr. Jermyn as an alternative excitement. I crept to my window +to look out at the house, watching it with a sort of terrified pleasure, +half expecting to see a ghost flapping his wings, outside the window. + +I was surprised to see that the window of the upper floor (which I knew +to be uninhabited) was open. I watched it, (it was just opposite) hoping +that something would happen. Presently two men came quickly up the lane +from the river. As they neared the house they seemed to me to shuffle in +their walk rather more than vas necessary. It must have been a signal, +for, as they came opposite the door, I saw it swing back upon its +hinges, as it had swung that morning, with Mr. Jermyn. Both men entered +the house swiftly, just as the city churches, one after the other, +chimed half-past nine o'clock. Almost directly afterwards I got the +start of my life. I was looking into the dark upper room across the +lane, expecting nothing, when suddenly, out of the darkness, so terribly +that I was scared beyond screaming, two large red eyes glowed, over +a mouth that trembled in fire. I started back in my seat, sick with +fright, but I could not take my eyes away. I watched that horrid thing, +with my hair stiffening on my head. Then in the room below it, the +luminous figure of an owl gleamed out. That was not the worst, either. I +heard that savage, “chacking” noise which brown owls make when they are +perched. This great gleaming owl, five times greater than any earthly +owl, was making that chacking noise, as though it would soon spread its +wings, to swoop on some such wretched mouse as myself. I could see its +eyes roll. I thought I saw the feathers stiffen on its breast. Then, +as the sweat rolled down my face, both the horrible things vanished as +suddenly as they had appeared. They were gone for more than a minute, +then they appeared again, only to disappear a second time. They were +exactly alike at each appearance. Soon my horror left me, for I saw that +the things disappeared at regular intervals. I found that I could time +each reappearance by counting ninety slowly from the instant the things +vanished. That calmed me. “I believe they're only clock-work,” I said to +myself. A moment later I saw Mr. Jermyn's head in sharp outline against +the brightness of the owl. He seemed to be fixing something with his +hand. It made me burst into a cackle of laughter, to find how easily +I had been scared. “Why, it's only clock-work,” I said aloud. “They're +carved turnips with candles inside them, fixed to a revolving pole, like +those we used to play with at Oulton, on the 5th of November.” My fear +was gone in an instant. I thought to myself how fine it would be if I +could get into that house, to stop the works, in revenge for the scare +they had given me. I wondered how I could do that. + + + +CHAPTER IV. I LEAVE HOME FOR THE LAST TIME + +I was thoroughly ripe for mischief of any kind; my scare had driven away +all desire for sleep. I looked at the window, wondering if it would be +best to go down my ladder again, to get the ladder in the garden. I +was about to do thus, when I remembered the planks in the box-room. How +splendid it would be, I thought, if I could get a couple of those long +planks across the lane as a sort of bridge. They were strong, thick +planks not likely to sag in the middle if I could only get them across. +Getting them across was the difficulty; for though I was strong for my +age, I found the first plank very contrary. After blowing out my candles +I fixed one end of the board under my heavy four-post bed, pointing the +other end out through the window, slanting upwards. Straddling across +it, I very gingerly edged it out, a hand's breadth at a time, till I had +some ten feet wagging about in the air over the lane. It was as much as +I could do unaided, to aim the thing. It seemed to have a wild, contrary +kind of life in it. Once or twice I came near to dropping it into the +lane, which would have been the end of everything. When I got it across, +the end caught on the window ledge for about ten perilous minutes. + +I was quite tired out before I got it properly across with two feet of +the end in the other house. I did not at all look forward to the job +of getting it back again after my trip. One plank was hardly safe, I +thought; so I slid a second over it, without much trouble. It seemed +firm enough then for anybody, no matter how heavy. So carefully I +straddled across it, hopping forward a little at a time, as though I +were playing leap-frog. When once I had started, I was much too nervous +to go back. My head was strong enough. I was well used to being high up +in trees. But the danger of this adventure made me dizzy. At every hop +the two planks clacked together. I could feel the upper plank shaking +out behind me a little to one side of the other. Then a tired waterman +shambled slowly up from the river, carrying his oars. He passed +underneath me, while I was in mid-air. It was lucky for me, I thought, +that few people when walking look above their own heads. He passed on +without seeing me. I waited up aloft till he had gone, feeling my head +grow dizzier at each second. I was, I trust, truly thankful when I was +able to dive down over the window-sill into the strange house. When I +had rested for a moment, I felt that it was not so difficult after all. +“Going back,” I said to myself, “will be much less ticklish.” Turning +my head, I saw the eyes of the devil-face glaring at me. They smelt very +strongly of kitchen tallow. + +I was not in the least frightened. I crept cautiously along the floor, +on tip-toe, to examine the contrivance. A hollow shaft of light wood, +a sort of big wooden pipe, led down through the floor, probably to the +ground-floor or basement, much as a mast goes down through a ship's +decks into the hold. It was slowly revolving, being worked by some +simple, not very strong mill-contrivance downstairs. A shelf had been +fixed up inside the pipe. On the shelf (as I could see by looking in) +was a tallow candle in a sconce. Two oval bits of red glass, let into +the wood, made the eyes of this lantern-devil. The mouth was a smear of +some gleaming stuff, evidently some chemical. This was all the monster +which had frightened me. The clacking noise was made by the machine +which moved it round. As for the owl, that was probably painted with the +same chemical. People were more superstitious then than now. I have no +doubt that an ignorant person like Ephraim, who had lived all his life +in London, had been scared out of his wits by this machine. Like most +ignorant people, he probably reckoned the thing as devilish, merely +because he did not understand it. One or two neighbours, a housemaid +or so, perhaps, had seen it, too. On the strength of their reports the +house had gotten a bad name. The two unoccupied floors had failed to +get tenants, while Mr. Jermyn, the contriver of the whole, had been left +alone, as no doubt he had planned. I thought that Londoners must be a +very foolish people to be so easily misled. Now that I am older, I see +that Londoners often live in very narrow grooves. They are apt to be +frightened at anything to which they have not been accustomed; unless, +of course, it is a war, when they can scream about themselves so loudly +that they forget that they are screaming. + +I examined the machine critically, by its own candle, which I removed +for the purpose. I meant to fix up one very like it in Ephraim's +bed-room as soon as I found an opportunity. Then I looked about the +room for some other toy, feeling in a fine state of excitement with +the success of my adventure. The room was quite bare. But for this +ghost-machine, there was nothing which could interest me, except a +curious drawing, done with a burnt stick on the plaster of the wall, +of a man-of-war under sail. After examining this drawing, I listened +carefully at the door lest my faint footsteps should have roused someone +below. I could hear no one stirring; the house was silent. “I must be +careful,” I said to myself. “They all may have gone to bed.” Understand, +I did not know then what I was doing. I was merely a wrong-headed boy, +up to a prank, begun in a moment of rebellion. When I paused in the +landing, outside the ghost-room, shading the candle with my hand, I was +not aware that I was doing wrong. I was only thinking how fine it would +be to find out about Mr. Jermyn, before crawling back, over the plank, +to my bed. I wanted to steal about these deserted floors, like a +conspirator; then, having, perhaps, found out about the mystery, to go +back home. It did not enter my head that I might be shot as a burglar. +My original intention, you must remember, had only been to stop the +works of the ghost. It was later on that my intention became criminal, +instead of merely boyish, or, in other words, crack-brained. As to +stopping the ghost, I could not stop the revolving pipe. I could do no +more than take away the light from the ghost-face. As for the owl on the +lower floor, when I came to it, could not do so much, for it was a great +big picture on board, done in some shining paint. I had nothing with +which I could smear it over, nor could I reach the head. As for stopping +the machine, that I dared not attempt to do, lest I should bring someone +up to me, from the works, wherever they were. Standing by the ghost of +the owl, hearing the chack-chack of the machine at intervals below me, +I became aware of voices in the room downstairs. When the chack-chack +stopped, I could hear men talking. I could hear what they said, for they +were talking in the ordinary tone of conversation. There was an open +space as it happened, all around the great pipe, where it passed through +the floor. I could peep through this into the room below, getting a +good sight of what was going on. It was very wicked of me, for there is +nothing quite so contemptible as an eavesdropper, but I could not resist +the temptation to look down. When once I had looked down I am ashamed to +say that I listened to what the men were saying. But first of all, I put +out my candle, lest anyone looking up should see the light through the +open space. + +At the head of the table, there was a very handsome man, dressed all in +black, as though in mourning. His beauty was so great that afterwards +it passed into a proverb. Later in the year, when I saw this gentleman +nearly every day, I noticed that people (even those who did not know who +he was) would look after him when he passed them. I will say only this +about his handsomeness. It was a bodily kind of beauty, of colour +rather than of form; there was not much character in it. Had he lived, +I daresay he would have become ugly like the rest of his family, none of +whom, except his great-great-grandmother, was accounted much for looks. + +Next to this handsome man, on the right, sat Mr. Jermyn, looking fifteen +years younger without his false beard. Then came a very black-looking +man, with a face all eyebrows. Then a soldier in uniform. Then a little, +wiry man, who jumped about as though excited--I could only see him when +he jumped: he had an unpleasant, saturnine face, which frightened me. +That, as far as I could see, was the whole company. When I first began +to listen, the man in uniform was speaking to the handsome man at the +head of the table. I knew at once, when he said Your Majesty, that he +was talking to James, the Duke of Monmouth, of whom I had heard that +afternoon. + +“No, your Majesty,” he said. “No, your Majesty,” he repeated, “I can't +answer for the army. If things had been different in February” (he +meant, “if you had been in England when Charles II died”) “there would +have been another King in England. As it is, I'm against a rising.” + +“Don't you think his Majesty could succeed by raising an army in the +West?” said Mr. Jermyn. “The present usurper (he meant James II) is a +great coward. The West is ripe to rebel. Any strong demonstration +there would paralyse him. Besides, the army wouldn't fire on their own +countrymen. We'd enough of that in the Civil War. What do you think of a +Western rising?” + +The soldier smiled. “Ah no,” he said. “No, your Majesty. Whatever you +do, Sire, don't do it with untrained men. A rising in the West would +only put you at the head of a mob. A regiment of steady trained men in +good discipline can destroy any mob in twenty minutes. No, your Majesty. +No. Don't try. it, Sire.” + +“Then what do you advise, Lane?” said the Duke. + +“I would say wait, your Majesty. Wait till the usurper, the poisoner, +commits himself with the Papists. When he's made himself thoroughly +unpopular throughout the country, then sound a few regiments. It's only +a matter of a year or two. If you'll wait for a year or two you'll see +yourself invited over. Besides, a sudden rising in the West must fail, +sir. Your Majesty would be in between two great garrisons, Bristol and +Portsmouth. We can't be sure that either would be true to us.” + +“Yes,” the Duke answered. “Yes, Lane. But as I plan it, the army will +be tempted north. Argyle will make a strong feint in Scotland, with the +great clans, just when the Western gentry declare for us.” + +“I take it,” Lane answered, “that Argyle has sounded the clans. He +knows, I suppose, what force of drilled men will rally to him. You know +nothing, sir, about the West. You know that many men are for you; but +you know not how many nor how good. You will need mounted men, sir, +if you are to dash down upon London with any speed. You cannot raise +cavalry in a week. All that you will get in the West will be squireens, +or dashing young farmers, both kinds unaccustomed to being ordered; both +kinds totally unfitted for war.” + +“Yes,” said the saturnine little man. “But a rising in the West would +have this natural effect. Argyle will draw troops to the north, as his +Majesty has explained. Very well, then. Let Devon declare for the King, +the business will be done. The usurper will not dare to send the few +troops left to him out of the capital, lest the town should rise on +him.” + +“Very true. True. A good point,” said the man with the eyebrows. + +“I think that disposes of your argument, Lane,” said the Duke, with a +smile. + +“It's a supposition, sir, against a certainty. I've told you of a +military danger. Falk, there, only tells you of a bare, military +possibility.” + +“But it's as certain as anything can be,” said the man with the +eyebrows. “You can see. That's just what must happen.” + +“It is what may happen if you wait for a year or two, your Majesty,” + Lane replied. “But a newly crowned King is always popular. I doubt if +you will find public opinion so much on your side, your Majesty. No for +a year or two, till he's made himself disliked. They've settled down +now to this usurper. They'll resent an interruption. The trades-men will +resent an interruption.” + +“I think you over-rate the difficulties, Lane,” said Mr. Jermyn. + +“Yes,” said the Duke, “I'm a great believer in putting a matter to the +test. Much must necessarily be left to chance. If we wait, we may not +find public opinion turning against our enemies. We may even lose the +good opinion of the West by waiting. Besides, by waiting, Lane, we +should lose the extraordinary: help of Argyle's diversion in the north.” + +“Yes,” the others said in chorus. “We mustn't lose that. A rising this +early summer, when the roads are good. A rising as soon as Argyle is +ready.” + +“Well, your Majesty,” said Lane, shaking his head. “I see you're +resolved. You shall not find me backward when the time comes, for all my +doubts at this meeting. To your Majesty's happy success.” They all drank +the toast; but I noticed that Mr. Lane looked melancholy, as though he +foresaw something of what actually happened in that terrible June. + +“Very good,” said the Duke, “I thank you, gentlemen. Now, Jermyn. We +two shall have to be off to the Low Countries in another half hour. How +about messengers to the West? You, Lane, are tied here to your regiment. +Falk, how about you, Falk?” + +“No, your Majesty,” said Falk. “There's danger in sending me. I'm +suspected. I'm known to be in your interests.” + +“You, then, Candlish,” said the Duke to the man with the eyebrows. + +“Not me, Sire,” said Candlish. “I can't disguise myself. I'm stamped by +nature for the paths of virtue.” + +“It would be a good thing,” said Falk, “if we could get some Western +carrier.” + +“The Western carriers are all watched,” Lane replied. “They are +followed, wherever they go, as on as they arrive at their inns here.” + +“Haven't you found some more gipsies, Falk?” Candlish asked. “The last +gipsy we had was very good.” + +“He was caught by a press-gang,” said Falk, “Gipsies aren't to be +trusted, though. They would sell us at once if they had the chance. +Ramon was an exception.” + +Mr. Jermyn had risen at the Duke's last speech as though to put on +his coat, ready to leave the house.. The Duke was listening to the +conversation, making 'idle sketches, as he listened, on the paper before +him, I think I hardly realised, as I craned over the open space, that +I had been listening to a conversation which would have condemned all +present to death for treason. I repeated to myself, in a dazed sort of +way, that the West was ready to rise. “King James is an usurper,” I said +softly. “These men are going to rebel against him. There's going to be +a civil war in England about it.” I had hardly repeated this to myself, +when it came over me with a shock that I was in terrible personal +danger. The men were just leaving the house. They would probably look +up, on leaving, to see what sort of a night it was. They would see my +wonderful bridge. It would be all over with me then. I was so I could +hardly stand up. I took a few cautious steps towards the door, saying +to myself that I would never again be disobedient if I might escape this +once. I was at the door, just about to open it, when I heard a step upon +the landing just outside, coming towards me. I gave up hope then; but I +had just sense enough to step to my left, so that, when the door should +open (if the stranger entered) it might, possibly, screen me from him. +Then I heard the Duke's voice from down below calling to Mr. Jermyn. + +“Jermyn,” he called. “Bring down my books, will you. They're on my bed. +What are you doing up there?” + +“Just seeing to the ghosts, your Majesty. I won't keep you waiting.” + +“I'll come, too,” he answered. “I'd like to see your ghosts again.” Then +I heard Mr. Jermyn loitering at the stair-head while the Duke left the +council-room. My hair was rising on my scalp; there was cold sweat on my +forehead; it was as much as I could do to keep my teeth from chattering. +I heard the Duke's feet upon the stairs; there were eleven stairs, +I counted them. Presently I heard him say, “Now, Jermyn.” Then came +Jermyn's answer of “This way, your Majesty.” He flung the door wide +open, so that the Duke might enter. The two men passed into the room to +examine the horrible owl. The Duke chuckled as the machine moved round +to him. “How bright he keeps,” he said. “Yes,” Jermyn answered. “He +won't need painting for a long while yet.” “No,” the Duke answered, “I +hear, Jermyn, he's given you a most uncanny reputation.” “Yes,” said +Jermyn, “the house has a bad name. What in the world is this?” + In walking round the owl his foot had struck upon the unlucky tin +candle-sconce which I had brought from the room above. “Sounds like +a tin candle-stick,” said the Duke. “Yes,” said Mr. Jermyn, groping. +“That's what it is. Now how in the world did it get here? It's the +candle-stick from the dragon's head in the room above.” “Are you sure, +Jermyn?” the Duke asked, in a voice which showed that he was agitated. +“Yes, sir. Quite sure. But no one's been up there.” “There must be +a spy,” said the Duke. The two voices spoke together for a moment in +whispers. I could not hear what they said; but a moment later I heard +the rasping, clinking noise of two swords being drawn. “Come out of +that,” said Mr. Jermyn's voice. I felt that I was discovered; but I +dared not stir from my covert. I heard the two men walking swiftly to +the door. A hand plucked it from in front of me. I shrank back into the +wall, covering my eyes with my hands, so that I should not see the two +long sword-blades pointing at my throat. “Make no sound. Make no sound, +now,” said the Duke, pressing his sword-point on my chest, so that I +could feel it thrust hard upon me, as though it needed very little force +to send it through. I made no sound. + +“Who are you?” said Mr. Jermyn, backing to the opening in the floor. +“Kill him if he moves, sir. Candlish, Candlish. Bring a light. Bring a +light. We've caught a moth.” + +I tried to swallow, but my throat seemed choked with dust. I heard the +people downstairs bustling out of the room with candles. I tried to +speak; but I could not. I was too much scared. I stood pressed hard +against the wall, with the Duke's sword-point still in place. + +“Bring it in here, Candlish,” said Mr. Jermyn. There came a clattering +noise from the window. Mr. Jermyn had released some heavy rolled up +curtain-blinds, which covered the whole window. There was no chance, +now, of being seen from the street, or from my uncle's house. Candlish +entered carrying a candle. + +The others followed at his heels. + +“A boy. Eh?” he said. + +“What do you do here?” the Duke asked, staring hard at me. + +“He's frightened out of his wits, sir,” said Lane. “We aren't going to +hurt you, boy, if you'll only tell the truth.” + +“Why,” said Mr. Jermyn. “It's Martin Hyde, nephew to old Hyde across the +way.” + +“But he's overheard us,” put in Falk. “He's overheard us.” + +“Come on downstairs. Bring him with you,” said the Duke. Lane took me by +one arm. Mr. Jermyn took me by the other. They marched me downstairs to +the council-room. + +“Here, boy,” said Candlish, not unkindly. “Drink this wine.” He made +me swallow a glass of Burgundy, which certainly did me a great deal of +good. I was able to speak after drinking it. + +“Now, Mr. Hyde,” said Mr. Jermyn. “How do you come to be in this house?” + +“Take your time, boy,” said Lane. + +“He's not a London boy?” said the Duke to Mr. Jermyn. + +“No, sir,” he answered in a whisper. “Just come here from the country.” + +“Please, your Majesty,” I began. + +“So you're a young rebel,” said the Duke. “That shows he overheard us,” + said Falk. + +“Let him alone, Falk,” the Duke said. + +“He'll tell the truth. No use in frightening him.” + +“Please, your Majesty,” I said again, “I was locked up in my room for +taking my uncle's boat this afternoon.” One of two of them smiled when I +said this: it gave me confidence. + +“But how did you get into this house?” Mr. Jermyn asked. + +“Please, sir,” I answered, “I saw your upper window open. So I laid a +couple of planks across the lane from my window. Then I just straddled +across, sir.” + +“Are you used to burglary, may I ask?” said the Duke. + +“No, your Majesty. But I saw the ghosts. I wanted to see how they were +made.” + +“Well. That's one for you, Jermyn,” said Lane. “Your ghosts haven't +frightened this one.” + +“Sir,” I answered. “They frightened me horribly. I wanted to be revenged +for that. But after a bit I was sure they were only clockwork. I wanted +to stop them. I did stop the devil upstairs, sir.” + +“So you stopped the devil upstairs,” the Duke said. “What did you do +then?” + +“I came down to this room, sir. I looked at the owl. But I couldn't +see how to stop the owl, sir. I saw you all sitting round the room. I'm +afraid I listened, sir.” + +“That was not a gentlemanly thing to do,” said Lane. “Was it now?” + +“No, sir.” + +“You understood all that was said. Eh, boy?” said Candlish. + +“Yes, sir. I understood it all.” + +“Well, young man,” said Falk. “You'll be sorry you did.” + +“Be quiet, Falk,” said the Duke. “No one shall bully the boy. What's +your name, boy?” + +“Martin Hyde, sir.” + +“A very smart lad too, sir,” said Jermyn. “He saved my book of cipher +correspondence yesterday. We should have been in trouble if that had got +into the wrong hands.” + +“You understand,” said the Duke, “that what you have heard might get us +all, perhaps many more besides ourselves, into very terrible danger if +repeated?” + +“Yes, your Majesty, I understand,” I answered. “Lock him into the +pantry, Jermyn,” said the Duke, “while we decide what to do with him. Go +with Mr. Jermyn, boy. We sha'n't hurt you. Don't be frightened. Give him +some oranges, Jermyn.” + + + +CHAPTER V. I GO TO SEA + +Mr. Jermyn led me to the pantry (a little room on the ground floor), +where he placed a plate of oranges before me. + +“See how many you can eat,” he said. “But don't try to burgle yourself +free. This is a strong room.” He locked the heavy door, leaving me alone +with a well-filled pantry, which seemed to be without a window. A little +iron grating near the ceiling served as a ventilator. There was no +chance of getting out through that. The door was plated with iron. The +floor was of concrete. I was a prisoner now in good earnest. I was +no longer frightened; but I had had such scares that night that I had +little stomach for the fruit. I was only anxious to be allowed to go +back to my bed. I heard a dull noise in the upper part of the house, +followed by the falling of a plank. “There goes my bridge,” I thought. +“Are they going to be so mean as to call my uncle out of bed, to show +him what I've been doing?” I thought that perhaps they would do this, as +my uncle (for all that I knew) might be in their plot. “Well,” I said to +myself, “I shall get a good thrashing. Perhaps that brute Ephraim will +be told to thrash me. But thrashing or no, I've had enough of going out +at night. I'll ask my uncle not to thrash me, but to put me into the +Navy. I should love that. I know that I shall never get on in London.” + This sudden plan of the Navy, about which I had never before thought, +seemed to me to be a good way of getting out of my deserts. I felt sure +that my uncle would be charmed to be rid of me; while I knew very well +that boys of that generation often entered the Navy, in the care of +the captains, as naval cadets (or, as they were then called, “captain's +servants”) at the ages of eight or nine. I wondered why the debate +lasted so long. Naturally, in that gloomy little prison, lit by a single +tallow candle, with all my anxieties heavy on my mind, the time passed +slowly. But they were so long in making up their minds that it seemed +as though they had forgotten me. I began to remember horrible tales of +people shut up in secret rooms until they starved to death, or till the +rats ate them. I remembered the tale of the nun being walled up in a +vault of her convent, brick by brick, till the last brick shut off the +last glimmer of the bricklayer's lantern, till the last layer of mortar +made for her the last sound she would hear, the patting clink of the +trowel on the brick, before it was all horrible dark silence for ever. +I wondered how many people had been silenced in that way. I wondered how +long I should live, if that was what these men decided. + +My fears were ended by the opening of the door. “Come on,” said Mr. +Lane. “This way,” He led me back to the council-room, where all the +conspirators sat at their places by the table. I noticed that Mr. Jermyn +(cloaked now, as for travel) was wearing his false beard again. + +“Mr. Hyde,” the Duke said. “I understand that you are well disposed to +my cause.” + +“Yes, your Majesty,” I answered; though indeed I only followed what my +father had told me. I had no real knowledge about it, one way or the +other. I knew only what others had told me. Still, in this instance, as +far as I have been able to judge by what I learned long afterwards, +I was right. The Duke had truly a claim to the throne; he was also a +better man than that disgraceful king who took his place. + +“Very well, Mr. Hyde,” the Duke answered. “Have you any objections to +entering my service?” + +I was not very sure of what he meant; it came rather suddenly upon me, +so I stammered, without replying. + +“His Majesty means, would you like to join our party?” said Mr. Lane. +“To be one of us. To serve him abroad.” + +I was flushed with pleasure at the thought of going abroad, among a +company of conspirators. I had no knowledge of what the consequences +might be, except that I should escape a sound whipping from my uncle or +from Ephraim. I did not like the thought of living on in London, with +the prospect of entering a merchant's office at the end of my boyhood. +I thought that in the Duke's service I should soon become a general, so +that I might return to my uncle, very splendidly dressed, to show him +how well I had managed my own life for myself. I thought that life was +always like that to the adventurous man. Besides I hoped that I should +escape school, the very thought of which I hated. Looking at the matter +in that secret council-room, it seemed so very attractive. It seemed to +give me a pathway of escape, whichever way I looked at it, from all that +I most disliked. + +“Yes, your Majesty,” I said, “I should very much like to enter your +service.” + +“You understand, Hyde,” said Mr. Jermyn, “that we are engaged in a very +dangerous work. It is so dangerous that we should not be justified in +allowing you to go free after what you have heard tonight. But its very +danger makes it necessary that we should tell you something of what your +work under his Majesty will be, before you decide finally to throw in +your lot with us. It is one thing to be a prisoner among us, Hyde; +but quite another to be what is called a rebel, engaged in treasonable +practices against a ruling King.” + +“Still,” said Lane, “don't think that your imprisonment with us would be +unpleasant. If you would rather not join us, you have only to say so. +We shall then send you over to Holland, where you will, no doubt, +find plenty of boats with which to amuse yourself. You will be kept in +Holland till a certain much-wished event takes place, about the middle +of June. After that you will be brought back here to your uncle who, by +that time, will have forgiven you.” + +“That's a very pretty ladder you made,” said the Duke. “You've evidently +lived among sailors.” + +“Among fishermen mostly, your Majesty,” I said “My father was rector in +the Broads country.” I knew from his remark that someone had been across +to my uncle's house to remove all traces of my bridge. My ladder, I +knew, would now be dangling from my window, to show by which way I had +escaped. + +“We want you, Hyde,” Mr. Jermyn said. “That is--we shall want you in +the event of your joining us, to be our messenger to the West. You will +travel continually from Holland to the West of England, generally to the +country near Taunton, but sometimes to Exeter, sometimes still further +to the West. You will carry letters sewn into the flap of your leather +travelling satchel. You will travel alone by your own name, giving out, +in case any one should ask you, that you are going to one of certain +people, whose names will be given to you. There will be no danger to +yourself; for the persons to whom you will be sent are not suspected; +indeed one of them is a clergyman. We think that a boy will have less +difficulty in getting about the country in its present state than any +man, provided, of course, that you travel by different routes on each +journey. If, however, by some extraordinary chance, you should be caught +with these letters in your wallet, we shall take steps to bring you off; +for we have a good deal of power, in one way or another, by which we +get things done. Still, it may well fall out, Hyde, in spite of all +our care, that you will come into the hands of men with whom we have no +influence. If you should, (remember, it is quite possible) you will be +transported to serve in one of the Virginian or West Indian plantations. +That will be the end of you as far as we are concerned. We shan't +be able to help you then. If you think the cause is right, join us, +provided that you do not think the risks too great.” + +“If all goes well,” said the Duke, “if the summer should prove +prosperous, I may be able to reward a faithful servant, even if he is +only a boy.” + +“I will serve your Majesty gladly,” I answered. “I should like to join +your service.” + +“Very well then, Jermyn,” he said, rising swiftly on his way to the +door; “bring him on board at once.” + +“We're off to Holland tonight, in the schooner there,” said Mr. Jermyn. +“So put these biscuits in your pocket. Give him another glass of wine, +Falk. Now, then. Good-bye, Lane. Good-bye everybody.” + +“Good-bye,” they said. “Good-bye, boy.” In another minute we were in +the narrow road, within earshot of the tumbling water, going down to the +stairs at the lane end, to take boat. The last that I saw of my uncle's +house was the white of my ladder ropes, swinging about against the +darkness of the bricks. + +“Remember, Hyde,” said Mr. Jermyn in a low voice, “that his Majesty is +always plain Mr. Scott. Remember that. Remember, too, that you are never +to speak to him unless he speaks to you. But you won't have much to do +with him. Were you ever at sea, before?” + +“No, sir. Only about the Broads in a coracle.” + +“You'll find it very interesting, then. If you're not seasick. Here we +are at the boat. Now, jump in. Get into the bows.” + +“Mr. Scott” was already snug under a boat-cloak in the sternsheets. As +soon as we had stepped in, the boatman shoved off. The boat rippled the +water into a gleaming track as she gathered way. We were off. I was on +my way to Holland. I was a conspirator, travelling with a King. There +ahead of me was the fine hull of the schooner La Reina, waiting to carry +us to all sorts of adventure, none of them (as I planned them then) so +strange, or so terrible, as those which happened to me. As we drew up +alongside her, I heard the clack-clack of the sailors heaving at the +windlass. They were getting up the anchor, so that we might sail from +this horrible city to all the wonderful romance which awaited me, as I +thought, beyond, in the great world. Five minutes after I had stepped +upon her deck we were gliding down on the ebb, bound for Holland. + +“Hyde,” said Mr. Jermyn, as we drew past the battery on the Tower +platform, “do you see the high ground, beyond the towers there?” + +“Yes, sir,” I said. + +“Do you know what that is?” + +“No, sir.” + +“That's Tower Hill,” he answered, “where traitors, I mean conspirators +like you or me, are beheaded. Do you know what that means?” + +“Yes, sir,” I replied. “To have your head cut off.” + +“Yes,” he said. “With all that hill black with people. The scaffold hung +with black making a sort of platform in the middle. Then soldiers, with +drums, all round. You put your head over a block, so that your neck +rests on the wood. Then the executioner comes at you with an axe. Then +your head is shown to the people. 'This is the head of a traitor.' We +may all end in that way, on that little hill there. You must be very +careful how you carry the letters, Hyde.” + +After this hint, he showed me a hammock in the schooner's 'tweendecks, +telling me that I should soon be accustomed to that kind of bed. “It is +a little awkward at first,” he said, “especially the getting in part; +but, when once snugly in, it is the most comfortable kind of bed in the +world.” After undressing by the light of a huge ship's lantern, which +Mr. Jermyn called a battle-lantern, I turned into my hammock, rather +glad to be alone. Now that I was pledged to this conspiracy business, +with some knowledge of what it might lead to, I half wished myself well +out of it. The 'tweendecks was much less comfortable than the bedroom +which I had left so gaily such a very little time before. I had +exchanged a good prison for a bad one. The smell of oranges, so near to +the hold in which they were stored, was overpowering, mixed, as it was, +with the horrible ship-smell of decaying water (known as bilge-water) +which flopped about at each roll a few feet below me. My hammock was +slung in a draught from the main hatchway. People came down the hatchway +during the night to fetch coils of rope or tackles. Tired as I was, I +slept very badly that first night on board ship. The schooner seemed to +be full of queer, unrelated movements. The noise of the water slipping +past was like somebody talking. The striking of the bells kept me from +sleeping. I did not get to sleep till well into the middle watch (about +two in the morning) after which I slept brokenly until a rough voice +bawled in my ear to get up out of that, as it was time to wash down. + +I put my clothes on hurriedly, wondering where I should find a basin +in which to wash myself. I could see none in the 'tweendecks; but I +supposed that there would be some in the cabins, which opened off the +'tweendecks on each side. Now a 'tweendecks (I may as well tell you +here) is nothing more than a deck of a ship below the upper deck. If +some of my readers have never been in a ship, let them try to imagine +themselves descending from the upper deck--where all the masts stand--by +a ladder fixed in a square opening known as a hatchway. About six feet +down this ladder is the 'tweendecks, a long narrow room, with a ceiling +so low that unless you bend, you bump your head against the beams. + +If you will imagine a long narrow room, only six feet high, you will +know what a 'tweendecks is like. Only in a real 'tween-decks it is +always rather dark, for the windows (if you care to call them so) are +thick glass bull's-eyes which let in very little light. A glare of light +comes down the hatchways. Away from the hatchways a few battle-lanterns +are hung, to keep up some pretence of light in the darkest corners. At +one end of this long narrow room in La Reina a wooden partition, running +right across from side to side, made a biggish chamber called “the +cabin,” where the officers took their meals. A little further along the +room, one on each side of it, were two tiny partitioned cabins, about +seven feet square, in which the officers slept, two in each cabin one +above the other, in shelf-beds, or bunks. My hammock had been slung +between these cabins, a little forward of them. When I turned out, I +saw that the rest of the 'tweendecks was piled with stores of all kinds, +lashed down firmly to ringbolts. Right forward, in the darkness of the +ship's bows, I saw other hammocks where the sailors slept. + +I was wondering what I was to do about washing, when the rough man who +had called me a few minutes before came down to ask me why I was not up +on deck. I said that I was wondering where I could wash myself. + +“Wash yourself,” he said. “You haven't made yourself dirty yet. You +don't wash at sea till your work's done for the day. Why, haven't you +lashed your hammock yet?” + +“Please, sir,” I said, “I don't know how.” + +“Well, for once,” he said, “I'll show you how. Tomorrow you'll do it for +yourself.” + +“There,” he said, when he had lashed up the hammock, by what seemed to +me to be art-magic, “don't you say you don't know how to lash a 'ammick. +I've showed you once. Now shove it in the rack there. Up on deck with +you.” + +I ran up the ladder to the deck, thinking that this was not at all the +kind of service which I had expected. When I got to the deck I felt +happier; for it was a lovely bright morning. The schooner was under all +sail, tearing along at what seemed to me to be great speed. We were +out at sea now. England lay behind us, some miles away. I could see the +windows gleaming in a little town on the shore. Ships were in sight, +with rollers of foam whitening under them. Gulls dipped after fish. The +clouds drove past. A fishing boat piled with fish was labouring up to +London, her sails dark with spray. On the deck of the schooner some +barefooted sailors were filling the wash-deck tubs at a hand-pump. One +man was at work high aloft on the topsail yard, sitting across the yard +with his legs dangling down, keeping his seat (as I thought) by balance. +I found the scene so delightful that I gazed at it like a boy in a +trance, was still staring, when the surly boor who had called me (he was +the schooner's mate it seemed) came up behind me. + +“Well,” he said, in the rough, bullying speech of a sailor, “do ye see +it?” + +“See what, sir?” + +“What you're looking at.” + +“Yes, sir,” I answered. + +“Then you got no butter in your eyes, then. Why ain't you at work?” + +“What am I to do, sir?” + +“Do,” he said. “Ain't you Mr. Scott's servant?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Then get a bucket of fresh water out of the cask there. Take this +scrubber. You'll find some soap in the locker there. Now scrub out the +cabin as quick as you know how.” + +He showed me down to the cabin. It was a dingy, dirty little room about +twelve feet square over all, but made, in reality, much smaller by the +lockers which ran along each side. + +It was lighted by two large wooden ports, known as “chase ports,” + through which the chase guns or “stern-chasers pointed. Only one gun (a +long three pounder on a swivel) was mounted; for guns take up a lot of +room. With two guns in that little cabin there would not have been room +enough to swing a cat. You need six feet for the proper swinging of a +cat, so a man-of-war boatswain told me. The cat meant is the cat of nine +tails with which they used to flog seamen. To flog properly one needs a +good swing, so my friend said. + +“There you are,” said the mate of the schooner. “Now down on your knees. +Scrub the floor here. See you get it mucho blanco.” + +He left me feeling much ashamed at having to work like a common ship's +boy, instead of like a prince's page, which is what I had thought +myself. Like many middle-class English boys I had been brought up to +look on manual work as degrading. I was filled with shame at having +to scrub this dirty deck. I, who, only yesterday, had lorded it over +Ephraim, as though I were a superior being. You boys who go to good +schools try to learn a little humbleness. You may think your parents +very fine gentlefolk; but in the world, outside a narrow class, the +having gentle parents will not help one much. It may be that you, for +all your birth, have neither the instincts nor the intellect to preserve +the gentility your parents made for you. You are no gentleman till +you have proved it. Your right level may be the level of the betting +publican, or of the sneak-thief, or of things even lower than these. It +is nothing to be proud of that your parents are rich enough to keep your +hands clean of joyless, killing toil, at an age when many better men +are old in slavery. Try to be thankful for it; not proud. Leisure is +the most sacred thing life has. A wise man would give his left hand for +leisure. You that have it given to you by the mercy of gentle birth, +regard it as a trust; make noble use of it. Many great men waste half +their energies in the struggle for that which you regard, poor fools, as +your right, as something to brag of. + +I had never scrubbed a floor in my life; but I had seen it done, without +taking much account of the art in it. I set to work, feeling more +degraded each moment, as the hardness of the deck began to make my knees +sore. When I had done about half of the cabin (in a lazy, neglectful +way, leaving patches unscrubbed, only just wetted over, so as to seem +clean to a chance observer) I thought that I would do no more; but wait +till Mr. Jermyn came to me. I would tell him that I wished to go home, +that I was not going to be a common sailor, but a trusted messenger, +with a lot more to the same tune, meaning, really, that I hated this job +of washing decks like poison. I dare say, if the truth were known, the +sudden change in my fortunes had made me a little homesick. But even so, +I was skulking work which had been given to me. What was worse, I was +being dishonest. For I was pretending to do the work, even when I took +least trouble with it. At last I took it into my head to wet the whole +floor with water, meaning to do no more to it. While I was doing this +the mate came into the cabin. + +“Look here,” he said. “I've been watching you. You ain't working. You're +skulking. You ain't trying to wash that deck. You're making believe, +thinking I won't know any different. Don't answer me. I know what you're +doing. Now then. You go over every bit of that deck which you've just +slopped at. Do it over. I'm going to stand here till it's done.” + +It was in my mind to be rebellious; but this man did not look like a +good man to rebel from. He was a big grim sailor with a length of rope +in his hand. He called it his “manrope.” “You see my manrope,” he said. +“His name's Mogador Jack. He likes little skulks like you.” Afterwards +I learned that a manrope is the rope rail at a ship's gangway, or +(sometimes) a length of rope in the gangway-side for boatmen to catch as +they came alongside the ship. I did not like the look of Mogador Jack, +so I went at my scrubbing with all my strength, keeping my thoughts +to myself. My knees felt very sore. My back ached with the continual +bending down. I had had no food that morning, either, that was another +thing. “Spell, oh,” said the man at last. “Straighten your back a bit. +Empty your bucket over the side. No. Not through the sternport. Carry +in on deck. Empty it there. Then fill it again. Lively, too. It'll be +breakfast time before you've done. You've got to have this cabin ready +by eight bells.” + +I will not tell you how I finished the deck. I will say only this, that +at the end I began to take a sort of pride or pleasure in making the +planks white. Afterwards, I always found that there is this pleasure in +manual work. There is always pleasure of a sort in doing anything +that is not very easy. “There,” the mate said. “Now lay the table for +breakfast. You'll find the things in them lockers. Lay for three places. +Don't break the ship's crockery while you're doing it.” + + + +CHAPTER VI. THE SEA! THE SEA! + +He left me, then, as he had to watch the men on deck. I felt, when he +went on deck, that the morning had been a nightmare; but now I was to be +flunkey well as slave, a new humiliation. I did not think how many times +I had humiliated others by letting them do such things for me. I had +done so all my life without a thought. Now, forsooth, I was at the point +of tears at having to do it for others, even though one of the others +was my rightful King. Grubbing about among the lockers, I found a canvas +table-cloth, which had once been part of a sail. I spread this cloth +with the breakfast gear, imitating the arrangements made at home at +Oulton. The mate came down some minutes after I had finished. He caught +me sitting down on the top of the lockers, looking out at the ships +through the open port. + +“Here,” he said roughly. “You've got to learn manners, or I'll have to +teach you. Remember this once for all, my son. No one sits in the cabin +except a captain or a passenger. You'll take your cap off to the cabin +door before I've done with you. Nor you don't sit down till your work's +done. That's another thing. Why ain't you at work?” + +“Please, sir,” I said, “I've laid the table. What else am I to do?” + +“Do,” he said. “Give the windows a rub. Then clean your hands, ready to +wait at table. No. Hold on. Have you called Mr. Scott yet?” + +“No, sir. I didn't know I had to.” + +“My,” he answered. “Have you any sense at all? Go call them. No. Get +their hot water first at the galley.” + +I suppose I stared at him; for I did not know that this would be a +duty of mine. “Here. Don't look at me like that,” he said. “You make +me forget myself.” He went to the locker, in which he rummaged till he +produced a big copper kettle. “Here's the hot water can,” he said. “Nip +with it to the galley, before the cook puts his fire out. On deck, boy. +Don't you know where the galley is?” + +I did not know where the galley was in this particular ship. I thought +that it would probably be below decks, round a space of brick floor to +prevent fire. But as the mate said “on deck” I ran on deck at once. I +ran on deck, up the hatch, so vigorously, that I charged into a seaman +who was carrying a can of slush, or melted salt fat used in the greasing +of ropes. I butted into him, spattering the slush all over him, besides +making a filthy mess of grease on the deck, then newly cleansed. The +seaman, who was the boatswain or second mate, boxed my ears with a +couple of cuffs which made my head sing. “You young hound,” he said, +“Cubbadar when your chief passes.” I went forward to the galley, crying +as if my heart would break, not only at the pain of the blows, which +stung me horribly, but at the misery of my life in this new service, +that had seemed so grand only seven or eight hours before. At the galley +door was the cook, a morose little Londoner with earrings in his ears. +“Miaow, Miaow,” he said, pretending to mimic my sobs. “Why haven't you +come for this 'ot water before? 'Ere 'ave I been keepin' my fire lit +while you been enjoyin' a stuffin' loaf down in that there cabin.” I was +too miserable to answer him. I just held out my kettle, thinking that +he would fill it for me. “Wot are you 'oldin' out the kettle for?” + he asked. “Think I'm goin' to do yer dirty work? Fill it at the 'ob +yourself.” I filled it as he bade me, choking down my tears. When I had +filled it, I hurried back to the 'tweendecks, hoping to hide my misery +down in the semi-darkness there. I did not pass the second mate on my +way back; but I passed some of the seamen, to whom a boy in tears was +fair game. One asked me what I meant by coming aft all salt, like a head +sea, making the deck wet after he'd squeegeed it down. Another told me +to wait till the second mate caught me. “I'd be sorry then,” he said, +“that ever I spilt the slush;” with other sea-jests, all of them pretty +brutal. It is said that if a strange rook comes to a rookery the other +rooks peck it to death, or at any rate drive it away. I know not if this +be true of rooks (I know that sparrows will attack owls or canaries, +whenever they have a chance), but it is true enough of human beings. We +all hate the new-comer, we are all suspicious of him, as of a possible +enemy. The seamen did to me what school-boys do to the new boy. I did +not know then that there is no mercy for one sensitive enough to take +such “jests” to heart. At sea, the rough, ready tom-fool boy is the +boy to thrive. Such an one might have spilt all the slush in the ship, +without getting so much as a cuff. I was a merry boy enough, but I was +sad when I made my first appearance. The sailors saw me crying. If I +had only had the wit to dodge the bosun's blows, the matter of the slush +would have been turned off with a laugh, since he only struck me in the +irritation of the moment. He would have enjoyed chasing me round the +deck. If I had only come up merrily that is what would have happened. As +it was I came up sad, with the result that I got my ears boxed, which, +of course, made me too wretched to put the cook in a good temper; a +cause of much woe to me later. The seamen who saw me crying at once put +me down as a cry-baby, which I really was not; so that, for the rest of +my time in the ship I was cruelly misjudged. I hope that my readers will +remember how little a thing may make a great difference in a person's +life. I hope that they will also remember how easy it is to misjudge +a person. It will be well for them if, as I trust, they may never +experience how terrible it feels to be misjudged. + +After I had called the two gentlemen, I gave the glass bull's-eyes in +the swing ports a rub with a cloth. I was at work in this way when the +two gentlemen entered. Mr. Jermyn smiled to see me with my coat off, +rubbing at the glass. He also wished me good morning, which Mr. Scott +failed to do. Mr. Scott took no notice of me one way or the other; +but sat down at the locker, asking when breakfast would be ready. “Get +breakfast, boy,” Mr. Jermyn said. At that I put my glass-rag into the +locker. I hurried off to the galley to bring the breakfast, not knowing +rightly whether it would be there or in another place. The cook, surly +brute, made a lot of offensive remarks to me, to which I made no answer. +He was glad to have someone to bully, for he had the common man's love +of power, with all his hatred of anything more polished than himself. +I took the breakfast aft to the cabin, where, by this time, the ship's +captain was seated. I placed the dish before Mr. Jermyn. + +“Why haven't you washed your hands, boy?” he asked, looking at my hands. + +“Please, sir, I haven't had time.” + +“Wash them now, then. Don't come to wait at table with hands like that +again. I didn't think you were a dirty boy.” + +I was not a dirty boy; but, having been at work since before six that +morning, I had had no chance of washing myself. I could not answer; +but the injustice of Mr. Jermyn's words gave me some of the most bitter +misery which I have known. For brutal, thoughtless injustice, it is +difficult to beat the merchant ship. I stole away to wash myself, very +glad of the chance to get away from the cabin. When I was ready, it was +time to clear the breakfast things to the galley, to wash them with the +cook. Luckily, I had overheard Mr. Jermyn say “how well this cook can +devil kidneys.” I repeated this to the cook, who was pleased to hear it. +It made him rather more kind in his manner to me. He did not know who +Mr. Scott really was. He asked me a lot of questions about what I knew +of Mr. Scott. I replied that I'd heard that he was a Spanish merchant, a +friend of Mr. Jermyn's. As for Mr. Jermyn, he knew' an uncle of mine. I +had helped him to recover his pocket-book; that was all that I knew of +him; that was why he had given me my present post as servant. More I +dared not say; for I remembered the Duke's sharp sword on my chest. We +talked thus, as we washed the dishes; the cook in a sweeter mood (having +had his morning dram of brandy); I, myself, trying hard to win him to a +good opinion of me. I asked him if I might clean his copper for him; +it was in a sad state of dirt. “You'll have work enough 'ere, boy,” he +said, tartly, “without you running round for more. You mind your own +business.” After this little snap at my head (no thought of thanks +occurred to him) he prepared breakfast for us, out of the remains of the +cabin breakfast. I was much cheered by the prospect of food, for nearly +three hours of hard work had given me an appetite. At a word from the +cook, I brought out two little stools from under the bunk. Then I placed +the “bread-barge,” or wooden bowl of ship's biscuits, ready for our +meal, beside our two plates. + +Breakfast was just about to begin, when my enemy, the boatswain, +appeared at the galley door. “Here, cook,” he said, “where's that +limb of a boy? Oh, you're there, are you? Feeding your face. Get a +three-cornered scraper right now. You'll scrape up that slush you +spilled, before you eat so much as a reefer's nut.” I had to go on deck +again for another hour, while I scraped up the slush, which was, surely, +spilled as much by himself as by me, since he was not looking where he +was going any more than I was. I got no breakfast. For after the grease +was cleaned I was sent to black the gentlemen's boots; then to make up +their beds; then to scrub their cabin clean. After all this, being faint +with hunger, I took a ship's biscuit from the locker in the cabin to eat +as I worked. I did not know it; but this biscuit was what is known as +“captain's bread,” a whiter (but less pleasant) kind of ship's biscuit, +baked for officers. As I was eating it (I was polishing the cabin +door-knobs at the time) the captain came down for a dram of brandy. He +saw what I was eating. At once he read me a lecture, calling me a greedy +young thief. Let me not eat another cabin biscuit, he said, or he'd do +to me what they always did to thieves:--drag them under the ship from +one side to another, so that the barnacles would cut them (as he said) +into Spanish sennet-work. When I answered him, he lost his temper, in +sailor fashion, saying that if I said another word he'd make me sick +that ever I learned to speak. + +I will not go into the details of the rest of that first day's misery. +I was kept hard at work for the whole time of daylight, often at work +beyond my strength, always at work quite strange to me. Nobody in the +ship, except perhaps the mate, troubled to show me how to do these +strange tasks; but all swore at me for not doing them rightly. What +I felt most keenly was the injustice of their verdicts upon me. I was +being condemned by them as a dirty, snivelling, lying, thieving young +hound. They took a savage pleasure in telling me how I should come to +dance on air at Cuckold's Haven, or, in other words, to the gallows, if +I went on as I had begun. Whereas (but for my dishonest moment in the +morning) I had worked like a slave since dawn under every possible +disadvantage which hasty men could place in my way. After serving the +cabin supper that night I was free to go to my hammock. There was not +much to be glad for, except the rest after so much work. I went with +a glad heart, for I was tired out. The wind had drawn to the east, +freshening as it came ahead, so that there was no chance of our reaching +our destination for some days. I had the prospect of similar daily +slavery in the schooner at least till our arrival. My nights would be my +only pleasant hours till then. The noise of the waves breaking on board +the schooner kept me awake during the night, tired as I was. It is a +dreadful noise, when heard for the first time. I did not then know what +a mass of water can come aboard a ship without doing much harm. So, when +the head of a wave, rushing across the deck, came with a swish down the +hatch to wash the 'tweendecks I started up in my hammock, pretty well +startled. I soon learned that all was well, for I heard the sailors +laughing in their rough, swearing fashion as they piled a tarpaulin over +the open hatch-mouth. A moment later, eight bells were struck. Some of +the sailors having finished their watch, came down into the 'tweendecks +to rest. Two of them stepped very quietly to the chest below my +hammock, where they sat down to play cards, by the light of the nearest +battle-lantern. If they had made a noise I should probably have fallen +asleep again in a few minutes; for what would one rough noise have been +among all the noise on deck? But they kept very quiet, talking in +low voices as they called the cards, rapping gently on the chest-lid, +opening the lantern gently to get lights for their pipes. Their +quietness was like the stealthy approach of an enemy, it kept a restless +man awake, just as the snapping of twigs in a forest will keep an Indian +awake, while he will sleep soundly when trees are falling. I kept awake, +too, in spite of myself (or half awake), wishing that the men would go, +but fearing to speak to them. At last, fearing that I should never get +to sleep at all, I looked over the edge of the hammock intending to +ask them to go. I saw then that one of them was my enemy the boatswain, +while the other was the ship's carpenter, who had eaten supper in the +galley with me, at the cook's invitation. As these were, in a sense, +officers, I dared not open my mouth to them, so I lay down again, hoping +that either they would go soon, or that they would let me get to sleep +before the morning. As I lay there, I overheard their talk. I could not +help it. I could hear every word spoken by them. I did not want their +talk, goodness knows, but as I could not help it, I listened. + +“Heigho,” said the boatswain, yawning. “I sha'n't have much to spend on +Hollands when I get there. Them rubbers at bowls in London have pretty +near cleaned my purse out.” + +“Ah, come off,” said the carpenter. “You can always get rid of a coil of +rope to someone, on the sly, you boatswains can. A coil of rope comes to +a few guilders. Eh, mynheer?” + +“I sold too many coils off this hooker,” said the boatswain. “I run the +ship short.” + +“Who sleeps in the hammock there?” the carpenter asked. + +“The loblolly boy for the cabin,” the boatswain answered. “Young clumsy +hound. I clumped his fat chops for him this morning.” + +“Mr. Jermyn's boy?” said the carpenter, sinking his voice. “There's +something queer about that Mr. Jermyn. 'E wears a false beard. That Mr. +Scott isn't all what he pretends neither.” + +“I don't see how that can be,” the boatswain said, “I wish I'd a drink +of something. I'm as dry as foul block.” + +“There'd be more'n a dram to us two, if Mr. Scott was what I think,” + said the carpenter. “I'm going to keep my eye on that gang.” + +“Keep your eye on the moon,” said the boatswain. + +“I tell you what'd raise drinks pretty quick.” + +“What would?” + +“That loblolly boy would.” + +“Eh?” said the carpenter. “Go easy, Joe. He may be awake.” + +“Not he,” said the boatswain, carelessly glancing into my hammock, where +I lay like all the Seven Sleepers condensed. “Not he. Snoring young +hound. Do him good to raise drinks for the crowd.” + +“Eh,” said the carpenter, a quieter, more cautious scoundrel than the +other (therefore much more dangerous). “How would a boy like that?” He +left his sentence unfinished. + +“Sell him to one of these Dutch East India merchants,” said the +boatswain. “There's always one or two of them in the Canal, bound for +Java. A likely young lad like that would fetch twenty pounds from a +Dutch skipper. A white boy would sell for forty in the East. Even if we +only got ten, there'd be pretty drinking while it lasted.” + +This evidently made an impression on the carpenter, for he did not +answer at once. “Yes,” he said presently. “But a lad like that's got +good friends. He don't talk like you or I, Joe.” + +“Friends in your eye,” said the other. “What's a lad with good friends +doing as loblolly boy?” + +“Run away,” the carpenter said. “Besides, Mr. Jermyn isn't likely to let +the lad loose in Haarlem.” + +“He might. We could keep a watch,” the boatswain answered. “If he goes +ashore, we could tip off Longshore Jack to keep an eye on him. Jack gets +good chances, working the town.” + +“Yes,” said the other. “I mean to put Longshore Jack on to this Mr. +Jermyn. If I aren't foul of the buoy there's money in Mr. Jermyn. More +than in East Indian slaves.” + +“Oh,” the boatswain answered, carelessly, “I don't bother about my +betters, myself. What d'ye think to get from Mr. Jermyn?” + +The carpenter made no answer; but lighted his pipe at the lantern, +evidently turning over some scheme in his mind. After that, the talk +ran on other topics, some of which I could not understand. It was mostly +about the Gold Coast, about a place called Whydah, where there was +good trading for negroes, so the boatswain said. He had been there in +a Bristol brig, under Captain Travers, collecting trade, i.e. negro +slaves. At Whydah they had made King Jellybags so drunk with “Samboe” + (whatever Samboe was) that they had carried him off to sea, with his +whole court. “The blacks was mad after,” he said, “the next ship's crew +that put in there was all set on the beach. I seed their bones after. +All picked clean. But old King Jellybags fetched thirty pound in Port +Royal, duty free.” He seemed to think that this story was something +laugh at. + +I strained my ears to hear more of what they said. I could catch nothing +more relating to myself. Nothing more was said about me. They told each +other stories about the African shore, where the schooners anchored in +the creeks, among the swamp-smells, in search of slaves or gold dust. +They told tales of Tortuga, where the pirates lived together in a town, +whenever they were at home after a cruise. “Rum is cheaper than water +there,” the bo'sun said. “A sloop comes off once a month with stores +from Port Royal. Its happy days, being in Tortuga.” Presently the two +men crept aft to the empty cabin to steal the captain's brandy. Soon +afterwards they passed forward to their hammocks. + +When they had gone, I lay awake, wondering I was to avoid this terrible +danger of being sold to the Dutch East India merchants. I wondered +who Longshore Jack might be. I feared that the carpenter suspected our +party. I kept repeating his words, “There's money in Mr. Jermyn,” till +at last, through sheer weariness, I fell asleep. In the morning, as +cleared away breakfast, from the cabin-table, I told Mr. Jermyn all +that I had heard. The Duke seemed agitated. He kept referring to an +astronomical book which told him how his ruling planets stood. “Yes,” + he kept saying, “I've no very favourable stars till July. I don't like +this, Jermyn.” Mr. Jermyn smoked a pipe of tobacco (a practise rare +among gentlemen at that time) while he thought of what could be done. At +last he spoke. + +“I know what we'll do, sir. We'll sell this man as carpenter to the +Dutch East India man. We'll give the two of them a sleeping draught in +their drink. We'll get rid of them both together.” + +“It sounds very cruel,” said the Duke. + +“Yes,” said Mr. Jermyn, “it is cruel. But who knows what the sly man +may not pick up? We're playing akes, we two. We've got many enemies. One +word of what this man suspects may bring a whole pack of spies upon us. +Besides, if the spies get hold of this boy we shall have some trouble.” + +“The boy's done very well,” said the Duke. + +“He's got a talent for overhearing,” Mr. Jermyn answered. “Well, Martin +Hyde. How do you like your work?” + +“Sir,” I answered, “I don't like it at all.” + +“Well,” he said, “we shall be in the Canal to-night, now the wind has +changed. Hold out till then, think, sir,” he said, turning to the Duke, +“the boy has done really very creditably. The work is not at all the +work for one of his condition.” + +The Duke rewarded me with his languid beautiful smile. + +“Who lives will see,” he said. “A King never forgets a faithful +servant.” + +The phrase seemed queer on the lips of that man's father's son; but I +bowed very low, for I felt that I was already a captain of a man-of-war, +with a big blazing decoration on my heart. Well, who lives, sees. I +lived to see a lot of strange things in that King's service. + + + +CHAPTER VII. LAND RATS AND WATER RATS + +I will say no more about our passage except that we were three days at +sea. Then, when I woke one morning, I found that we were fast moored to +a gay little wharf, paved with clean white cobbles, on the north side of +the canal. Strange, outlandish figures, in immense blue baggy trousers, +clattered past in wooden shoes. A few Dutch galliots lay moored ahead of +us, with long scarlet pennons on their mastheads. On the other side of +the canal was a huge East Indiaman, with her lower yards cockbilled, +loading all three hatches at once. It was a beautiful morning. The sun +was so bright that all the scene had thrice its natural beauty. The +clean neat trimness of the town, the water slapping past in the canal, +the ships with their flags, the Sunday trim of the schooner, all filled +me with delight, lit up, as they were, by the April sun. I looked about +me at my ease, for the deck was deserted. Even the never-sleeping mate +was resting, now that we were in port. While I looked, a man sidled +along the wharf from a warehouse towards me. He looked at the schooner +in a way which convinced me that he was not a sailor. Then, sheltering +behind a bollard, he lighted his pipe. + +He was a short, active, wiry man, with a sharp, thin face, disfigured by +a green patch over his right eye. He looked to me to have a horsey look, +as though were a groom or coachman. After lighting his pipe, he advanced +to a point abreast of the schooner's gang-way, from which he could look +down upon her, as she lay with her deck a foot or two below the level of +the wharf. + +“Chips aboard?” he asked, meaning, “Is the carpenter on board?” + +“Yes,” I said. “Will you come aboard?” + +He did not answer, but looked about the ship, as though making notes of +everything. Presently he turned to me. + +“You're new,” he said. “Are you Mr. Jermyn's boy?” I told him that I +was. + +“How is Mr. Jermyn keeping?” he asked. “Is that cough of his better?” + This made me feel that probably the man knew Mr. Jermyn. “Yes,” I said. +“He's got no cough, now.” “He'd a bad one last time he was here,” the +man answered. For a while he kept silent. He seemed to me to be puzzling +out the relative heights of our masts. Suddenly he turned to me, with +a very natural air. “How's Mr. Scott's business going?” he asked. “You +know, eh? You know what I mean?” I was taken off my guard. I'm afraid +I hesitated, though I knew that the man's sharp eyes noted every little +change on my face. Then, in the most natural way, the man reassured me. +“You know,” he said. “What demand for oranges in London?” I was thankful +that he had not meant the other business. I said with a good deal too +much of eagerness that there was, I believed, a big demand for oranges. +“Yes,” he said, “I suppose so many young boys makes a brisk demand.” I +was uneasy at the man's manner. He seemed to be pumping me, but he had +such a natural easy way, under the pale mask of his face, that I could +not be sure if he were in the secret or not. I was on my guard now, +ready for any question, as I thought, but eager for an excuse to get +away from this man before I betrayed any trust. “Nice ship,” he said +easily. “Did you join her in Spain?” “No,” I answered. “In London.” “In +London?” he said. “I thought you'd something of a Spanish look.” “No,” I +said. “I'm English. Did you want the carpenter, sir?” + +“Yes,” he answered. “I do. But no hurry. No hurry, lad.” Here he pulled +out a watch, which he wound up, staring vacantly about the decks as he +did so. “Tell me, boy,” he said gently. “Is Lane come over with you?” To +tell the truth, it flashed across my mind, when he pulled out his watch, +that he was making me unready for a difficult question. I was not a very +bright boy; but I had this sudden prompting or instinct, which set me on +my guard. No one is more difficult to pump than a boy who is ready for +his questioner, so I stared at him. “Lane?” I said, “Lane? Do you mean +the bo'sun?” + +“No,” he said. “The Colonel. You know? Eh?” + +“No.” I said. “I don't know.” + +“Oh well,” he answered. “It's all one. I suppose he's not come over.” At +this moment the mate came on deck with the carpenter, carrying a model +ship which they had been making together in their spare time. They +nodded to the stranger, who gave them a curt “How do?” as though they +had parted from him only the night before. The mate growled at me for +wasting time on deck when I should be at work. He sent me down to my +usual job of getting the cabin ready for the breakfast of the gentlemen. +As I passed down the hatchway, I heard the carpenter say to the +stranger, “Well. So what's the news with Jack?” It flashed into my mind +that this man might be his friend, the “Longshore Jack” who was to keep +an eye upon me as well as upon Mr. Jermyn. It gave me a most horrid +qualm to think this. The man was so sly, so calm, so guarded, that the +thought of him being on the look-out for me, to sell me to the Dutch +captains, almost scared me out of my wits. The mate brought him to the +cabin as I was laying the table. “This is the cabin,” he was saying, +“where the gentlemen messes. That's our stern-chaser, the gun there.” + +“Oh,” said the stranger, looking about him like one who has never seen +a ship before. “But where do they sleep? Do they sleep on the sofa (he +meant the lockers), there?” + +“Why, no,” said the mate. “They sleep in the little cabins yonder. But +we musn't stay down here now. I'm not supposed to use this cabin. I +mustn't let the captain see me.” So they went on deck again, leaving me +alone. When the gentlemen came in to breakfast, I had to go on deck for +the dishes. As I passed to the galley, I noticed the stranger talking to +the carpenter by the main-rigging. They gave me a meaning look, which +I did not at all relish. Then, as I stood in the galley, while the cook +dished up, I noticed that the stranger raised his hand to a tall, lanky, +ill-favoured man who was loafing about on the wharf, carrying a large +black package. This man came right up to the edge of the wharf, directly +he saw the stranger's signal. It made me uneasy somehow. I was in a +thoroughly anxious mood, longing to confide in some one, even in the +crusty cook, yet fearing to open my mouth to any one, even to Mr. +Jermyn, to whom I dared not speak with the captain present in the room. +Well, I had my work to do, so I kept my thoughts to myself. I took the +dishes down below to the cabin, where, after removing the covers, I +waited on the gentlemen. + +“Martin,” said Mr. Jermyn. “This skylight over our heads makes rather a +draught. We can't have it open in the morning for breakfast. + +“Did you open it?” the captain asked. “What made you open it?” + +“Please, sir, I didn't open it.” + +“Then shut it,” said the captain. “Go on deck. The catch is fast +outside.” + +I ran very nimbly on deck to shut the skylight, but the catch was very +stiff; it took me some few moments to undo. I noticed, as I worked at +it, that the deck was empty, except for the lanky man with the package, +who was now forward, apparently undoing his package on the forehatch. I +thought that he was a sort of pedlar or bumboatman, come to sell onions, +soft bread, or cheap jewellery to the sailors. The carpenter's head +showed for an instant at the galley-door, He was looking forward at the +pedlar. The hands were all down below in the forecastle, eating their +breakfast. The other stranger seemed to have gone. I could not see him +about the deck. At last the skylight came down with a clatter, leaving +me free to go below again. As I went down the hatchway, into the +'tweendecks gloom, I saw a figure apparently at work among the ship's +stores lashed to the deck there. I could not see who it was; it was +too dark for that but the thing seemed strange to me. I guessed that +it might be my enemy the boatswain, so I passed aft to the cabin on the +other side. + +Soon after that, it might be ten minutes after, while the gentlemen were +talking lazily about going ashore, we heard loud shouts on deck. + +“What's that?” said the captain, starting up from his chair. + +“Sounds like fire,” said Mr. Jermyn. + +“Fire forward,” said the captain, turning very white. “There's five tons +of powder forward.” + +“What?” cried the Duke. + +At that instant we heard the boatswain roaring to the men to come on +deck. “Aft for the hose there, Bill,” we heard. Feet rushed aft along +the deck, helter-skelter. Some one shoved the skylight open with a +violent heave. Looking up, we saw the carpenter's head. He looked as +scared as a man can be. + +“On deck,” he cried. “We're all in a blaze forward. The lamp in the +bo'sun's locker. Quick.” + +“Just over the powder,” the captain said, rushing out. + +“Quick, sir,” said Jermyn to the Duke. “We may blow up at any moment.” + +“No,” said the Duke, rising leisurely. “Not with these stars. +Impossible.” + +All the same, the two men followed the captain in pretty quick time. Mr. +Jermyn rushed the Duke out by the arm. I was rushing out, too, when I +saw the Duke's hat lying on the lockers. I darted at it, for I knew +that he would want it, with the result that my heel slipped on a copper +nail-head, which had been worn down even with the deck till it was +smooth as glass. Down I came, bang, with a jolt which shook me almost +sick. I rose up, stupid with the shock, so wretched with the present +pain that the fire seemed a little matter to me. Indeed, I did not +understand the risk. I did not know how a fire so far forward could +affect the cabin. + +A couple of minutes must have passed before I picked up the hat from +where it lay. As I hurried through the 'tweendecks some slight noise +or movement made me turn my head. Looking to my right. I saw the horsey +man, the stranger, rummaging quickly in the lockers of the Duke's cabin, +As I looked, I saw him snatch up something like a pocketbook or pocket +case, with a hasty “Ah” of approval. At the same moment, he saw me +watching him. + +“Where's Mr. Scott?” he cried, darting out on me. “We may all blow up in +another moment.” + +“He's on deck,” I said. “Hasn't he gone on deck?” + +“On deck?” said the man. “Then on deck with you, too.” He pushed me +up the hatch before him. “Quick,” he cried. “Quick. There's Mr. Scott +forward. Get him on to the wharf. + +He gave me a hasty shove forward, to where the whole company was working +in a cloud of smoke, passing buckets from hand to hand. A crowd of +Dutchmen had gathered on the wharf. Everybody was shouting. The scene +was confused like a bad dream. I caught sight of the pedlar man at the +gangway as the stranger thrust me forward. In the twinkling of an eye +the stranger passed something to him with the quick thrust known as the +thieves' pass. I saw it, for all my confusion. I knew in an instant that +he had stolen something. The pedlar person was an accomplice. As likely +as not the fire was a diversion. I rushed at the gangway. The pedlar was +moving quickly away with his hands in his pockets. It all happened in +a moment. As I rushed at the gangway, with some wild notion of stopping +the pedlar, the horsey man caught me by the collar. + +“What,” he said, in a loud voice. “Trying to desert, are you? You come +forward where the danger is.” He ran me forward. He was as strong as a +bull. + +“Mr. Jermyn,” I cried. “Mr. Jermyn. This man's a thief.” + +The man twisted my collar on to my throat till I choked. “Quiet, you,” + he hissed. + +Then Mr. Jermyn dropped his bucket to attend to me. + +“A thief,” I gasped. “A thief.” Mr. Jermyn sprang aft, with his eyes on +the man's eyes. The stranger flung me into Mr. Jermyn's way, with all +the sweep of his arm. As I went staggering into the fore-bitts (for +Mr. Jermyn dodged me) the man took a quick side step up the rail to the +wharf. I steadied myself. Mr. Jermyn, failing to catch the man before +he was off the ship, rushed below to see what was lost. The crowd +of workers seemed to dissolve suddenly. The men surged all about me, +swearing. The fire was out. Remember, all this happened in thirty +seconds, from the passing of the stolen goods to the stranger's letting +go my throat. The very instant that I found my feet against the bitts, I +jumped off the ship on to the wharf. There was the stranger running down +the wharf to the right, full tilt. There was the lanky pedlar slouching +quickly away as though he were going on an errand, with his black box +full of groceries. + +“That's the man, Mr. Scott,” I cried. “He's got it.” + +The captain (who, I believe, was a naval officer in the Duke's secret) +was up on the wharf in an instant. I followed him, though the carpenter +clutched at me as I scrambled up. I kicked out behind like a donkey. I +didn't kick him, but some one thrust the carpenter aside in the hurry +so that I was free. In another seconds I was past the captain, running +after the pedlar, who started to run at a good speed, dropping his box +with a clatter. Half a dozen joined in the pursuit. The captain had his +sword out. They raised such a noise behind me that I thought the whole +crew was at my heels. The pedlar kept glancing behind; he knew very +little about running. He doubled from street to street, like a man at +his wits' ends. I could see that he was blown. When he entered into that +conspiracy, he had counted on the horsey man diverting suspicion from +him. Suddenly, after twisting round a corner, he darted through a swing +door into a stone-paved court, surrounded by brick walls. I was at his +heels at the moment or I should have lost him there. I darted through +the swing door after him. I went full sprawl over his body on the other +side. He had, quite used up, collapsed there. + + + +CHAPTER VIII. I MEET MY FRIEND + +“Give it me,” I said. “Give it me, Longshore Jack. Before they catch +us.” To my horror, I saw that the creature was a woman in a man's +clothes. She took me for one of her gang. She was too much frightened to +think things out. “I thought you were one of the other lot,” she gasped, +as she handed me a pocketbook. + +“Didn't he get the letters, too?” I asked at a venture. “No,” she said, +sitting up, now, panting, to take a good look at me. I stared at her for +a moment. I, myself, was out of breath. + +“They're going,” I said, hearing the noise of the pursuit passing away +in the check. “I'll just spy out the land.” I opened the door till it +was an inch or two ajar, so that I could see what was going on outside. +“They're gone,” I said again, still keeping up the pretence of being on +her side. As I said it, I glanced back to fix her features on my memory. +She had a pale, resolute face with fierce eyes, which seemed fierce from +pain, not from any cruelty of nature. It was a pleasant face, as far as +one could judge of a face made up to resemble a dirty pedlar's face. + +Seeing my look, she seemed to watch me curiously, raising herself up, +till she stood unsteadily by the wall. “When did you come in?” she said, +meaning, I suppose, when did I join the gang. + +“Last week,” I answered, swinging the door a little further open. +Footsteps were coming rapidly along the road. I heard excited voices, I +made sure that it was the search party going back to the schooner. + +“Digame, muchacho,” she said in Spanish. It must have been some sort of +pass-word among them. Seeing by my face that I did not understand she +repeated the words softly. Then at that very instant she was on me like +a tigress with a knife. I slipped to one side instinctively. I suppose +I half saw her as the knife went home. She grabbed at the pocket-book, +which I swung away from her hand. The knife went deep into the door, +with a drive which must have jarred her to the shoulder. “Give it me,” + she gasped, snatching at me like a fury. I dodged to one side, up the +court, horribly scared. She followed, raving like a mad thing, quite +ghastly white under her paint, wholly forgetful that she was acting a +man's part. When once we were dodging I grew calmer. I led her to the +end of the court, then ducked. She charged in, blindly, against the +wall, while I raced to the door, very pleased with my success. I did not +hear her follow me, so, when I got to the door, I looked back. Just at +that instant, there came a smart report. The creature had fired at me +with a pistol; the bullet sent a dozen chips of brick into my face. I +went through the door just as the shot from the second barrel thudded +into the lintel. Going through hurriedly I ran into Mr. Jermyn, as he +came round the corner with the captain. “I've got it,” I said. “Look +out. She's in there.” + +“Who?” they said. “The thief? A woman?” They did not stay, but thrust +through the door. + +Mr. Jermyn dragged me through with them. “You say you've got it, +Martin?” + +“Yes,” I answered, handing him the book. “Here it is.” + +“That's a mercy,” he said. “Now then, where's the thief?” + +I had been out of the court, I suppose thirty seconds; it cannot have +been more. Yet, when I went back with those two men, the woman had gone, +as though she had never been there. “She's over the wall,” cried the +captain, running up the court. But when we looked over the wall there +was no trace of her, except some slight scratches upon the brick, where +her toes had rested. On the other side of the wall was a tulip bed full +of rows of late flowering tulips, not yet out. There was no footmark on +the earth. Plainly she had not jumped down on the other side. “Check,” + said captain. “Is she in one of the houses?” + +But the houses on the left side of the court (on the other side the +court had no houses, only brick walls seven feet high) were all old, +barred in, deserted mansions, with padlocks on the doors. She could not +possibly have entered one of those. + +“They're old plague-houses,” said Mr. Jermyn. + +“They've been deserted twenty years now, since the great sickness.” + +“Yes?” said the captain, carelessly. “But where can she have got to?” + +“Well. It beats me,” Mr. Jermyn replied. “But perhaps she ran along the +wall to the end, then jumped down into the lane. That's the only thing +she could have done. By the way, boy, you were shot at. Were you hit?” + +“No,” I answered. “But I got jolly near it. The bullet went just by me.” + +“Ah,” he said. “Take this. You'll have to be armed in future.” + +He handed me a beautiful little double-barrelled pocket pistol. “Be +careful,” he said. “It's loaded. Put it in your pocket. You musn't be +seen carrying arms here. That would never do.” + +“Boy,” said the captain. “D'ye think you could shin up that water-spout, +so as to look over the parapet there, on to the leads of the houses?” + +“Yes,” I said. “I think I could, from the top of the wall.” + +“Why,” Mr. Jermyn said. “She couldn't have got up there.” + +“An active woman might,” the captain said. “You see, the water-spout is +only six feet long from the wall to the eaves. There's good footing on +the brackets. It's three quick steps. Then one vigorous heave over the +parapet. There you are, snug as a purser's billet, out of sight.” + +“No woman could have done it,” Mr. Jermyn said. “Besides, look here. We +can't go further in the matter. We've recovered the book. We must get +back to the ship.” + +So the scheme of climbing up the water pipe came to nothing. We walked +off together wondering where the woman had got to. Long afterwards I +learned that she heard all that we said by the wall there. While we +talked, she was busy reloading her pistol, waiting. At the door of the +court we paused to pull out her knife from where it stuck. It was a not +very large dagger-knife, with a small woman's grip, inlaid with silver, +but bound at the guard with gold clasps. The end of the handle was also +bound with gold. The edge of the broad, cutting blade curved to a long +sharp point. The back was straight. On the blade was an inscription in +Spanish, “Veneer o Morir” (“To conquer or die”), with the maker's name, +Luis Socartes, Toledo, surrounded by a little twirligig. I have it in +my hand as I write. I value it more than anything in my possession. It +serves to remind me of a very remarkable woman. + +“There, Martin,” said Mr. Jermyn. “There's a curiosity for you. Get one +of the seamen to make a sheath for it. Then you can wear it at your back +on your belt like a sailor.” + +As we walked back to the ship, I told Mr. Jermyn all that I had seen of +the morning's adventure. He said that the whole, as far as he could make +it out, had been a carefully laid plot of some of James the Second's +spies. He treated me as an equal now. He seemed to think that I had +saved the Duke from a very dreadful danger. The horsey man, he said, was +evidently a trusted secret agent, who must have made friends with the +carpenter on some earlier visit of the schooner. He had planned his raid +on the Duke's papers very cleverly. He had arrived on board when no one +was about. He had bribed the carpenter (so we conjectured, piecing the +evidence together) to shout fire, when we were busy at breakfast. Then, +when all was ready, this woman, whoever she was, had gone forward to +the bo'sun's locker, where she had set fire to half a dozen of those +fumigating chemical candles which she had brought in her box. The +candles at once sputtered out immense volumes of evil smelling smoke. +The carpenter, watching his time, raised the alarm of fire, while the +horsey man, hidden below, waited till all were on deck to force the +spring-locks on the Duke's cabin-door. When once he had got inside the +cabin, he had worked with feverish speed, emptying all the drawers, +ripping up the mattress, even upsetting the books from the bookshelf, +all in about two minutes. Luckily the Duke kept nearly all his secret +papers about his person. The pocket-book was the only important +exception. This, a very secret list of all the Western gentry ready to +rise, was locked in a casket in a locked drawer. + +“It shows you,” said Mr. Jermyn, “how well worked, that he did all this +in so little time. If you hadn't fallen on the nail, Martin, our friends +in the West would have fared badly. It was very clever of you to bring +us out of the danger.” When we got back aboard the schooner, we found, +as we had expected, that the men in league with the horsey man had +deserted. Neither carpenter nor boatswain was to be found. Both had +bolted off in pursuit of the horsey man at the moment of alarm, leaving +their chests behind them. I suppose they thought that the plot had +succeeded. I dare say, too, that the horsey man, who was evidently well +known to them both, had given them orders to desert in the confusion, +so that he might suck their brains at leisure elsewhere. Altogether, +the morning's work from breakfast time till ten was as full of moving +incident as a quiet person's life. I have never had a more exciting two +hours. When I sat down to my own breakfast (which I ate in the cabin +among the gentlemen) I seemed to have grown five years older. All three +men made much of me. They brought out all sorts of sweetmeats for me, +saying I had saved them from disaster. The Duke was especially kind. +“Why, Jermyn,” he said, “we thought we'd found a clever messenger; but +we've found a guardian angel.” He gave me a belt made of green Spanish +leather, with a wonderfully wrought steel clasp. “Here,” he said. “Wear +this, Martin. Here's a holster on it for your pistol. These pouches +hold cartridges. Then this sheath at the back will hold your dagger, the +spoils of war.” + +“There,” said the captain. “Now I'll give you something else to fit you +out. I'll give you a pocket flask. What's more, I'll teach you how to +make cartridges. We'll make a stock this morning.” + +While he was speaking, the mate came down to tell us how sorry he was +that it was through him that the horsey man was shown over the ship. “He +told me he'd important letters for Mr. Scott,” he said, “so I thought it +was only right to show him about, while you was dressing. The carpenter +came to me. 'This gentleman's got letters for Mr. Scott,' he said. So +I was just taken in. He was such a smooth spoken chap. After I got to +know, I could 'a' bit my head off.” They spoke kindly to the man, who +was evidently distressed at his mistake. They told him to give orders +for a watchman to walk the gangway all day long in future, which to me +sounded like locking the stable door too late. After that, I learned how +to make pistol cartridges until the company prepared to go ashore. +The chests of the deserters were locked up in the lazaret, or store +cupboard, so that if the men came aboard again they might not take away +their things. + +“Before we start,” the Duke said, “I must just say this. We know, from +this morning's work, that the spies of the English court know much more +than we supposed. We may count it as certain that this ship is being +watched at this moment. Now, we must put them off the scent, because I +must see Argyle without their knowledge. It is not much good putting to +sea again, as a blind, for they can't help knowing that we are here +to see Argyle. They have only to watch Argyle's house to see us enter, +sooner or later. I suggest this as a blind. We ought to ride far out +into the country to Zaandam, say, by way of Amsterdam. That's about +twenty miles. Meanwhile Argyle shall come aboard here. The schooner +shall take him up to Egmont; he'll get there this afternoon. He must +come aboard disguised though. At Zaandam, we three will separate, Jermyn +will personate me, remaining in Zaandam. The boy shall carry letters in +a hurry to Hoorn; dummy letters, of course. While I shall creep off to +meet Argyle--somewhere else. If we start in a hurry they won't have +time to organize a pursuit. There are probably only a few secret agents +waiting for us here. What do you say?” + +“Yes,” said Mr. Jermyn. “I myself should say this. Send the boy on at +once to Egmont with a note to Stendhal the merchant there. They won't +suspect the boy. They won't bother to follow him, probably. Tell +Stendhal to send Out a galliot to take Argyle off the schooner while +at sea. The galliot can land Argyle somewhere on the coast. That would +puzzle them rarely. She can then ply to England, or elsewhere, so that +her men won't have a chance of talking. As for the schooner, she can +proceed north to anchor at the Texel till further orders. At the same +time, we could ride south to Noordwyk; find a barge there going north. +Hide in her cabin till she arrives, say, at Alkmaar. Meet Argyle +somewhere near there. Then remain hidden till it is time to move. We can +set all the balls moving, by sticking up a few bills in the towns.” + I did not know what he meant by this. Afterwards I learned that the +conspirators took their instructions from advertisements for servants, +or of things lost, which were stuck up in public places. To the +initiated, these bills, seemingly innocent, gave warning of the Duke's +plan. Very few people in Holland (not more than thirty I believe) +were in the secret of his expedition. Most of these thirty knew other +loyalists, to whom, when the time came, they gave the word. When the +time came we were only about eighty men all told. That is not a large +force, is it, for the invasion of a populous kingdom? + +They talked it out for a little while, making improvements on Mr. +Jermyn's plan. They had a map by them during some of the time. Before +they made their decision, they turned me out of the cabin, so that I +know not to this day what the Duke did during the next few days. I know +only this, that he disappeared from his enemies, so completely that the +spies were baffled. Not only James's spies, that is nothing: but the +spies of William of Orange were baffled. They knew no more of his +whereabouts than I knew. They had to write home that he had gone, they +could not guess where; but possibly to Scotland to sound the clans. All +that I know of his doings during the next week is this. After about half +an hour of debate, the captain went ashore to one of the famous inns in +the town. From this inn, he despatched, one by one, at brief intervals, +three horses, each to a different inn along the Egmont highway. He gave +instructions to the ostlers who rode them to wait outside the inns named +till the gentlemen called for them. He got the third horse off, in this +quiet way, at the end of about an hour. I believe that he then sent +a printed book (with certain words in it underlined, so as to form a +message) by the hand of a little girl, to the Duke of Argyle's lodging. +I have heard that it was a book on the training of horses to do tricks. +There was probably some cipher message in it, as well as the underlined +message. Whatever it was, it gave the Duke his instructions. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. I SEE MORE OF MY FRIEND + +After waiting for about an hour in the schooner, I was sent ashore with +a bottle-basket, with very precise instructions in what I was to do. I +was to follow the road towards Haarlem, till I came to the inn near the +turning of the Egmont highway. There I was to leave my bottle-basket, +asking (or, rather, handing over a written request) for it to be filled +with bottles of the very best gin. After paying for this, I was to +direct it to be sent aboard the schooner by the ostler (who was waiting +at the door with a horse) the last of those ordered by the captain. I +was then to walk the horse along the Egmont road, till I saw or heard +an open carriage coming behind. Then I was to trot, keeping ahead of the +carriage, but not far from it, till I was past the third tavern. After +that, if I was not recalled by those in the carriage, I was free to +quicken up my pace. I was then to ride straight ahead, till I got to +Egmont, a twenty mile ride to the north. There I was to deliver up my +horse at the Zwolle-Haus inn, before enquiring for M. Stendhal, the +East India merchant. To him I was to give a letter, which for safety was +rolled into a blank cartridge in my little pistol cartridge box. After +that, I was to stay at M. Stendhal's house, keeping out of harm's way, +till I received further orders from my masters. + +You may be sure that I thought myself a fine figure of gallantry as I +stepped out with my bottle-basket. I was a King's secret agent. I had +a King's letter hidden about my person. I was armed with fine weapons, +which I longed to be using. I had been under fire for my King's sake. +I was also still tingling with my King's praise. It was a warm, sunny +April day; that was another thing to fill me with gladness. Soon I +should be mounted on a nag, riding out in a strange land, on a secret +mission, with a pocket full of special service money. Whatever I had +felt in the few days of the sea-passage was all forgotten now. I did +not even worry about not knowing the language. It would keep me from +loitering to chatter. My schoolboy French would probably be enough for +all purposes if I vent astray. I was “to avoid chance acquaintances, +particularly if they spoke English.” That was my last order. Repeating +it to myself I walked on briskly. + +I had not gone more than three hundred yards upon my way, when a lady, +very richly dressed, cantered slowly past me on a fine bay mare. She was +followed by a gentleman in scarlet, riding on a little black Arab. They +had not gone a hundred yards past me when the Arab picked up a stone. +The man dismounted to pick it out, while the lady rode back to hold the +horse, which was a ticklish job, since he was as fresh as a colt. He +went squirming about like an eel. The man had no hook to pick the stone +with; nor could he get it out by his fingers. I could hear him growling +under his breath in some strange language, while the horse sidled about +as wicked as he could be. + +As I approached, the horse grew so troublesome that the man decided to +take him back to the town, to have the stone pulled there. He was just +starting to lead him back when I came up with them. He asked me some +question in a tongue which I did not know. He probably asked me if I had +a hook. I shook my head. The lady said something to him in French, which +made him laugh. Then he began to lead back the horse towards the town. +The lady, after waving her hand to him, started to ride slowly forward +in front of me. Like most ladies at that time she wore a little black +velvet domino mask over her eyes. All people could ride in those days; +but I remember it occurred to me that this lady rode beautifully. So +many women look like meal-sacks in the saddle. This one rode as though +she were a part of the horse. + +She kept about twenty yards ahead of me till I sighted the inn, where an +ostler was walking the little nag which I was to ride. She halted at the +inn-door, looking back towards the town for her companion. Then, without +calling to anybody, she dismounted, flinging her mare's reins over a +hook in the wall. She went into the inn boldly, drawing her whip through +her left hand. When I entered the inn-door a moment later, she was +talking in Dutch to the landlord, who was bowing to her as though she +were a great lady. + +I handed over my bottle-basket, with the letter, to a woman who served +the customers at the drinking bar. Then, as I was going out to take my +horse, the lady spoke to me in broken English. + +“Walk my horse, so he not take cold,” she said. It was in the twilight +of the passage from the door, so that I could not see her very clearly, +but the voice was certainly like the voice of the woman who had fired +at me in the courtyard. Or was I right? That voice was on my nerves. It +seemed to be the voice of all the strangers in the town. I looked up at +her quickly. She was masked; yet the grey eyes seemed to gleam beyond +the velvet, much as that woman's eyes had gleamed. Her mouth; her chin; +the general poise of her body, all convinced me. She was the woman who +had carried away the book from Longshore Jack. I was quite sure of it. +I pretended not to understand her. I dropped my eyes, without stopping; +she flicked me lightly with her whip to draw my attention. + +“Walk my horse,” she said again, with a little petulance in her voice. I +saw no way out of it. If I refused, she would guess (if she did not +know already) that I was not there only for bottles of gin. “Oui, +mademoiselle,” I said. “Oui. Merci.” So out I went to where the mare +stood. She followed me to the door to see me take the mare. There was no +escape; she was going to delay me at the door till the man returned. I +patted the lovely creature's neck. I was very well used to horses, for +in the Broad Country a man must ride almost as much as he must row. But +I was not so taken up with this mare that I did not take good stock of +the lady, who, for her part, watched me pretty narrowly, as though she +meant never to forget me. I began to walk the beast in the road in +front of the inn, wondering how in the world I was to get out of the +difficulty before the Duke's carriage arrived. There was the woman +watching me, with a satirical smile. She was evidently enjoying the +sight of my crestfallen face. + +Now in my misery a wild thought occurred to me. I began to time my +walking of the mare so that I was walking towards Sandfoort, while the +other horse-boy was walking with my nag towards Egmont on the other side +of the inn. I had read that in desperate cases the desperate remedy is +the only measure to be tried. While I was walking away from the inn I +drew the dagger, the spoils of war. I drew it very gently as though I +were merely buttoning my waistcoat. Then with one swift cut I drew it +nine-tenths through the girth. I did nothing more for that turn, though +I only bided my time. After a turn or two more, the other horse-boy was +called up to the inn by the lady to receive a drink of beer. No doubt +she was going to question him (as he drank) about the reason for his +being there. He walked up leisurely, full of smiles at the beer, leaving +his nag fast to a hook in the wall some dozen yards from the door. +This was a better chance than I had hoped for; so drawing my dagger, +I resolved to put things to the test. I ripped the reins off the mare +close to the bit. Then with a loud shout followed by a whack in the +flank, I frightened that lovely mare right into them, almost into the +inn-door. Before they knew what had happened I was at my own horse's +head swiftly casting off the reins from the hook. Before they had turned +to pursue me, I was in the saddle, going at a quick trot towards Egmont, +while the mare was charging down the road behind me, with her saddle +under her belly, giving her the fright of her life. + +An awful thought came to me. “Supposing the lady is not the English spy, +what an awful thing I have done. Even if she be, what right have I to +cut her horse's harness? They may put me in prison for it. Besides, what +an ass I have been. If she is what I think, she will know now that I +am her enemy, engaged on very special service.” Looking back at the +inn-door, I saw a party of people gesticulating in the road. A man was +shouting to me. Others seemed to be laughing. Then, to my great joy, +round the turn of the road came an open carriage with two horses, going +at a good pace. There came my masters. All was well. I chuckled to +myself as I thought of the lady's face, when these two passed her, +leaving her without means of following them. When we were well out of +sight of the inn, I rode back to the carriage to report, wondering how +they would receive my news. They received it with displeasure, saying +that I had disobeyed my orders, not only in acting as I had done; but in +coming back to tell them. They bade me ride on at once to Egmont, before +I was arrested for cutting the lady's harness. As for their own plans, +whatever they were, my action altered them. I do not know what they did. +I know that I turned away with a flea in my ear from the Duke's reproof. +I remember not very much of my ride to Egmont, except that I seemed to +ride most of the time among sand-dunes. I glanced back anxiously to see +if I was being pursued; but no one followed. I rode on at the steady +lope, losing sight of the carriage, passing by dune after dune, rising +windmill after windmill, to drop them behind me as I rode. In that low +country, I had the gleam of the sea to my left hand, with the sails of +ships passing by me. The wind freshened as I rode, till at last my left +cheek felt the continual stinging of the sand grains, whirled up by the +wind from the bents. Where the sea-beach broadened, I rode on the sands. +The miles dropped past quickly enough, though I rode only at the lope, +not daring to hurry my horse. I kept this my pace even when going +through villages, where the people in their strange Dutch clothes +hurried out to stare at me as I bucketed by. I passed by acre after acre +of bulb-fields, mostly tulip-fields, now beginning to be full of colour. +Once, for ten minutes, I rode by a broad canal, where a barge with a +scarlet transom drove along under sail, spreading the ripples, keeping +alongside me. The helmsman, who was smoking a pipe as he eyed the luff +of his sail, waved his hand to me, as I loped along beside him. You +would not believe it; but he was one of the Oulton fishermen, a man +whom I had known for years. I had seen that tan-sailed barge many, many +times, rushing up the Waveney from Somer Leyton, with that same quiet +figure at her helm. I would have loved to have called out “Oh, Hendry. +How are you? Fancy seeing you here.” But I dared not betray myself; nor +did Hendry recognize me. After the road swung away from the canal, I +watched that barge as long as she remained in sight, thinking that while +she was there I had a little bit of Oulton by me. + +At last, far away I saw the church of Egmont, rising out of a flat +land (not unlike the Broad land) on which sails were passing in a misty +distance. I rose in my stirrups with a holloa; for now, I thought, I was +near my journey's end. I clapped my horse's neck, promising him an apple +for his supper. Then, glancing back, I looked out over the land. The +Oulton barge was far away now, a patch of dark sail drawing itself +slowly across the sky. Out to sea a great ship seemed to stand still +upon the skyline. But directly behind me, perhaps a mile away, perhaps +two miles, clearly visible on the white straight ribbon of road, a clump +of gallopers advanced, quartering across the road towards me. There may +have been twenty of them all told; some of them seemed to ride in ranks +like soldiers. I made no doubt when I caught sight of them that they +were coming after me, about that matter of the lady's harness. My first +impulse was to pull up, so that Old Blunderbore, as I had christened my +horse, might get his breath. But I decided not to stop, as I knew how +dangerous a thing it is to stop a horse in his pace after he has settled +down to it, had still three miles to go to shelter. If I could +manage the three miles all would be well. But could manage them? Old +Blunderbore had taken the eighteen miles we had come together very +easily. Now I was thankful that I had not pressed him in the early part +of the ride. But Egmont seemed a long, long way from me. I dared not +begin to gallop so far from shelter. I went loping on as before, with my +heart in my mouth, feeling like one pursued in a nightmare. + +As I looked around, to see these gallopers coming on, while I was still +lollopping forward, I felt that I was tied by the legs, unable to move. +Each instant made it more difficult for me to keep from shaking up my +horse. Continual promptings flashed into my mind, urging me to bolt down +somewhere among the dunes. These plans I set aside as worthless; for a +boy would soon have been caught among those desolate sandhills. There +was no real hiding among them. You could see any person among them from +a mile away. I kept on ahead, longing for that wonderful minute when I +could hurry my horse, in the wild rush to Egmont town, the final wild +rush, on the nag's last strength, with my pursuers, now going their +fastest, trailing away behind, as their beasts foundered. The air came +singing past. I heard behind me the patter of the turf sent flying by +Old Blunderbore's hoofs. The excitement of the ride took vigorous hold +on me. I felt on glancing back that I should do it, that I should carry +my message, that the Dutchman should see my mettle, before they stopped +me. They were coming up fast on horses still pretty fresh. I would show +them, I said to myself, what a boy can do on a spent horse. + +Old Blunderbore lollopped on. I clapped him on the neck. “Come up, boy! +Up!” I cried. “Egmont--Egmont! Come on, Old Blunderbore!” The good old +fellow shook his head up with a whinny. He could see Egmont. He could +smell the good corn perhaps. I banged him with my cap on the shoulder. +“Up, boy!” I cried. I felt that even if I died, even if I was shot +there, as I sailed along with my King's orders, I should have tasted +life in that wild gallop. + +A countryman carrying a sack put down his load to stare at me, for +now, with only a mile to go, I was going a brave gait, as fast as Old +Blunderbore could manage. I saw the man put up his hands in pretended +terror. The next instant he was far behind, wondering no doubt why the +charging squadron beyond were galloping after a boy. Now we were rushing +at our full speed, with half a mile, a quarter of a mile, two hundred +yards to the town gates. Carts drew to one side, hearing the clatter. I +shouted to drive away the children. Poultry scattered as though the king +of the foxes was abroad. After me came the thundering clatter of the +pursuit. I could hear distant shouts. The nearest man there was a +quarter of a mile away. A man started out to catch my rein, thinking +that my horse had run away with me. I banged him in the face with my cap +as I swung past him. In another second, as it seemed, I was pulled up +inside the gates. + +As far as I remember,--but it is all rather blurred now,--the place +where I pulled up was a sort of public square. I swung myself off Old +Blunderbore just outside a tavern. An ostler ran up to me at once to +hold him. So I gave him a silver piece what it was worth I did not know, +saying firmly “Zwolle-Haus. Go on. Zwolle-Haus.” + +The ostler smiled as he repeated Zwolle-Haus, pointing to the tavern +itself, which, by good luck, was the very house. + +“M. Stendhal,” I said. “Where is M. Stendhal? Mynheer Stendhal? Mynheer +Stendhal Haus?” + +The ostler repeated, “Stendhal? Stendhal? Ah, ja. Stendhal. Da.” He +pointed down a narrow street which led, as I could see, to a canal +wharf. + +I thanked him in English, giving him another silver piece. Then off I +went, tottering on my toes with the strangeness of walking after so long +a ride. I was not out of the wood yet, by a long way. At every second, +as I hurried on, I expected to hear cries of my pursuers, as they +charged down the narrow street after me. I tried to run, but my legs +felt so funny, it was like running in a dream. I just felt that I was +walking on pillows, instead of legs. Luckily that little narrow street +was only fifty yards long. It was with a great gasp of relief that I +got to the end of it. When I could turn to my right out of sight of the +square I felt that I was saved. I had been but a minute ahead of the +pursuers outside on the open. Directly after my entrance, some cart or +waggon went out of the town, filling the narrow gateway full, so that my +enemies were forced to pull up. This gave me a fair start, without which +I could hardly have won clear. If it had not been for that lucky waggon, +who knows what would have happened? + +As it was, I tottered along with drawn pistol to the door of a great +house (luckily for me the only house), which fronted the canal. I must +have seemed a queer object, coming in from my ride like that, in a +peaceful Dutch town. If I had chanced upon a magistrate I suppose I +should have been locked up; but luck was with me on that day. I chanced +only on Mynheer Stendhal as he sat smoking among his tulips in the front +of his mansion. He jumped up with a “God bless me!” when he saw me. + +“Mynheer Stendhal?” I asked. + +“Yes,” he said in good English. “What is it, boy?” + +“Take me in quick,” I said. “They're after me.” + + + +CHAPTER X. SOUNDS IN THE NIGHT + +In another minute, after Mr. Stendhal had read my note, I was skinning +off my clothes in an upper bedroom. Within three minutes I was dressed +like a Dutch boy, in huge baggy striped trousers belonging to Stendhal's +son. In four minutes the swift Mr. Stendhal had walked me across the +wharf in sabots to one of the galliots in the canal, which he ordered +under way at once, to pick up Argyle at sea. So that when my pursuers +rode up to Mr. Stendhal's door in search of me, I was a dirty little +Dutch boy casting off a stern-hawser from a ring bolt. They seemed to +storm at Mr. Stendhal; but I don't know what they said; he acted the +part of surprised indignation to the life. When I looked my last on Mr. +Stendhal he was at the door, begging a search party to enter to see for +themselves that I was not hidden there. The galliot got under way, at +that moment, with a good deal of crying out from her sailors. As she +swung away into the canal, I saw the handsome lady idly looking on. She +was waiting at the door with the other riders. She was the only +woman there. To show her that I was a skilled seaman I cast off the +stern-hawser nimbly, then dropped on to the deck like one bred to the +trade. A moment later I was aloft, casting loose the gaff-topsail. From +that fine height as the barge began to move I saw the horsemen turning +away foiled. I saw the lady's leathered hat, making a little dash of +green among the drab of the riding coats. Then an outhouse hid them all +from sight. I was in a sea-going barge, bound out, under all sail, +along a waterway lined with old reeds, all blowing down with a rattling +shiver. + +Now I am not going to tell you much more of my Holland experiences. I +was in that barge for about one whole fortnight, during which I think I +saw the greater part of the Dutch canals. We picked up Argyle at sea on +the first day. After that we went to Amsterdam with a cargo of hides. +Then we wandered about at the wind's will, thinking that it might puzzle +people, if any one should have stumbled on the right scent. All that +fortnight was a long delightful picnic to me. The barge was so like an +Oulton wherry that I was at home in her. I knew what to do, it was not +like being in the schooner. When we were lying up by a wharf, I used +to spend my spare hours in fishing, or in flinging fiat pebbles from +a cleft-stick at the water-rats. When we were under sail I used to sit +aloft in the cross-trees, looking out at the distant sea. At night, +after a supper of strong soup, we all turned in to our bunks in the tiny +cabin, from the scuttle of which I could see a little patch of sky full +of stars. + +A boy lives very much in the present. I do not think that I thought much +of the Duke's service, nor of our venture for the crown. If I thought +at all of our adventures, I thought of the handsome woman with the grey, +fierce eyes. In a way, I hoped that might have another tussle with her, +not because I liked adventure, no sane creature does, but because I +thought of her with liking. I felt that she would be such a brave, witty +person to have for a friend. I felt sad somehow at the thought of not +seeing her again. She was quite young, not more than twenty, if her +looks did not belie her. I used to wonder how it was that she had come +to be a secret agent. I believed that the sharp-faced horsey man had +somehow driven her to it against her will. Thinking of her at night, +before I fell asleep, I used to long to help her. It is curious, but I +always thought tenderly of this woman, even though she had twice tried +to kill me. A man's bad angel is only his good angel a little warped. + +On the second of May, though I did not know it then, Argyle set sail for +Scotland, to raise the clans for a foray across the Border. On the same +day I was summoned from my quarters in the barge to take up my King's +service. Late one evening, when it was almost dark night, Mr. Jermyn +halted at the wharf-side to call me from my supper. “Mount behind me, +Martin,” he said softly, peering down the hatch. “It's time, now.” + I thought he must mean that it was time to invade England. You must +remember that I knew little of the rights of the case, except that the +Duke's cause was the one favoured by my father, dead such a little while +before. Yet when I heard that sudden summons, it went through me with a +shock that now this England was to be the scene of a bloody civil war, +father fighting son, brother against brother. I would rather have been +anywhere at that moment than where I was, hearing that order. Still, I +had put my hand to the plough. There was no drawing back. I rose up +with my eyes full of tears to say good-bye to the kind Dutch bargemen. +I never saw them again. In a moment I was up the wharf, scrambling into +the big double saddle behind Mr. Jermyn. Before my eyes were accustomed +to the darkness we were trotting off into the night I knew not whither. + +“Martin,” said Mr. Jermyn, half turning in his saddle, “talk in a low +voice. There may be spies anywhere.” + +“Yes, sir,” I answered, meekly. For a while after that we were silent; I +was waiting for him to tell me more. + +“Martin,” he said at length, “we're going to send you to England, with a +message.” + +“Yes, sir?” I answered. + +“You understand that there's danger, boy?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Life is full of danger. But for his King a Christian man must be +content to run risks. You aren't afraid, Martin?” + +“No, sir,” I answered bravely. I was afraid, all the same. I doubt if +any boy my age would have felt very brave, riding in the night like +that, with danger of spies all about. + +“That's right, Martin,” he said kindly. “That's the kind of boy I +thought you.” Again we were quiet, till at last he said: + +“You're going in a barquentine to Dartmouth. Can you remember Blick of +Kingswear?” + +“Blick of Kingswear,” I repeated. “Yes, sir.” + +“He's the man you're to go to.” + +“Yes, sir. What am I to tell him?” + +“Tell him this, Martin. Listen carefully. This, now. King Golden Cap. +After Six One.” + +“King Golden Cap. After Six One,” I repeated. “Blick of Kingswear. King +Golden Cap. After Six One.” + +“That's right,” he said. “Repeat it over. Don't forget a word of it. +But I know you're too careful a lad to do that.” There was no fear of my +forgetting it. I think that message is burned in into my brain under the +skull-bones. + +“There'll be cipher messages, too, Martin. They're also for Mr. Blick. +You'll carry a little leather satchel, with letters sewn into the flap. +You'll carry stockings in the satchel. Or school-books. You are Mr. +Blick's sister's son, left an orphan in Holland. You'll be in mourning. +Your mother died of low-fever, remember, coming over to collect a +debt from her factor. Your mother was an Oulton fish-boat owner. Pay +attention now. I'm going to cross-examine you in your past history.” + +As we rode on into the gloom, in the still, flat, misty land, which +gleamed out at whiles with water dykes, he cross-examined me in detail, +in several different ways, just as a magistrate would have done it. I +was soon letter-perfect about my mother. I knew Mr. Blick's past history +as well as I knew my own. + +“Martin,” said Mr. Jermyn suddenly. “Do you hear anything?” + +“Yes, sir,” I answered. “I think I do, sir.” + +“What is it you hear, Martin?” + +“I think I hear a horse's hoofs, sir.” + +“Behind us?” + +“Yes, sir. A long way behind.” + +“Hold on then, boy. I'm going to pull up.” + +We halted for an instant in the midst of a wide fiat desert, the +loneliest place on God's earth. For an instant in the stillness we +heard the trot trot of a horse's hoofs. Then the unseen rider behind us +halted, too, as though uncertain how to ride, with our hoofs silent. + +“There,” said Mr. Jermyn. “You see. Now we'll make him go on again.” + He shook the horse into his trot again, talking to him in a little low +voice that shook with excitement. Sure enough, after a moment the trot +sounded out behind us. It was as though our wraiths were riding behind +us, following us home. “I'll make sure,” said Mr. Jermyn, pulling up +again. + +“You're a cunning dog,” he said gently. “You heard that?” Indeed, it +sounded uncanny. The unseen rider had feared to pull up, guessing that +we had guessed his intentions. Instead of pulling up he did a much more +ominous thing, he slowed his pace perceptibly. We could hear the change +in the beat of the horse-hoofs. “Cunning lad,” said Mr. Jermyn. “I've +a good mind to shoot that man, Martin. He's following us. Pity it's so +dark. One can never be sure in the dark like this. But I don't know. I'd +like to see who it is.” + +We trotted on again at our usual pace. Presently, something occurred +to me. Mr. Jermyn, I said; “would you like me to see who it is? I could +slip off as we go. I could lie down flat so that he would pass against +the sky. Then you could come back for me.” + +He did not like the scheme at first. He said that it would be too dark +for me to see anybody; but that when we were nearer to the town it might +be done. So we rode on at our quick trot for a couple of more, hearing +always behind us a faint beat of +upon the road, like the echo of our own hoofs. After a time they stopped +suddenly, nor did we hear them again. + +“D'you know what he's done, Martin?” said Mr. Jermyn. + +“No, sir,” I answered. + +“He's muffled his horse's hoofs with duffle shoes. A sort of thick felt +slippers. He was in too great a hurry to do that before. There are the +lights of the town.” + +“Shall I get down, sir?” + +“If you can without my pulling up. Don't speak. But lay your head on the +road. You'll hear the horse, then, if I'm right.” + +“Then I'll lie still,” I said, “to see if I can see who it is.” + +“Yes. But make no sign. He may shoot. He may take you for a footpad. +I'll ride back to you in a minute.” + +He slowed down the horse so that I could slip off unheard on to the turf +by the roadside. When he had gone a little distance, I laid my ear to +the road. Sure enough, the noise of the other horse was faint but plain +in the distance, coming along on the road, avoiding the turf. The turf +vas trenched in many drains, so as to make dangerous riding at night. I +lay down flat on the turf, with my pistol in my hand. I was excited; but +I remember that I enjoyed it. I felt so like an ancient Briton lying in +wait for his enemy. I tried to guess the distance of this strange horse +from me. It is always difficult to judge either distance or location by +sound, when the wind is blowing. The horse hoofs sounded about a quarter +of a mile away. I know not how far they really were. Very soon I could +see the black moving mass coming quietly along the road. The duffle +hoof-wraps made a dull plodding noise near at hand. Nearer the unknown +rider came, suspecting nothing. I could see him bent forward, peering +out ahead. I could even take stock of him, dark though it was. He was a +not very tall man, wearing a full Spanish riding cloak. It seemed to me +that he checked his horse's speed somewhere in the thirty yards before +he passed me. Then, just as he passed, just as I had a full view of him, +blackly outlined against the stars, his horse shied violently at me, on +to the other side of the road. The rider swung him about on the instant +to make him face the danger. I could see him staring down at me, as he +bent forward to pat his horse's neck. I bent my head down so that my +face was hidden in the grass. + +The stranger did not see me. I am quite sure that he did not see me. He +turned his horse back along the road for a few snorting paces. Then with +a sounding slap on his shoulder he drove him at a fast pace along the +turf towards me. I heard the brute whinny. He was uneasy; he was trying +to shy; he was twisting away, trying to avoid the strange thing which +lay there. I hid my head no longer. I saw the horse above me. I saw the +rider glaring down. He was going to ride over me. I saw his face, a grey +blur under his hat. The horse seemed to be right on top of me. I started +up to my feet with a cry. The horse shied into the road, with a violence +which made the rider rock. Then, throwing up his head, he bolted towards +the town, half mad with the scare. Fifty yards down the road he tore +past Mr. Jermyn, who was trotting back to pick me up. We heard the +frantic hoofs pass away into the night, growing louder as the duffle +wraps were kicked off. Perhaps you have noticed how the very sound of +the gallop of a scared horse conveys fear. That is what we felt, we two +conspirators, as we talked together, hearing that clattering alarm-note +die away. + +“Martin,” said Mr. Jermyn. “That was a woman. She chuckled as she +galloped past me.” + +“Are you sure, sir?” I asked, half-hoping that he might be right. I +felt my heart leap at the thought of being in another adventure with the +lady. + +“Yes,” he said, “I'm quite sure. Now we must be quick, so as to give +her no time in the town.” When I had mounted, we forced the horse to a +gallop till we were within a quarter of a mile of the walls, where we +pulled up at a cross-roads. + +“Get down, Martin,” he said. “We must enter the town by different roads. +Turn off here to the right. Then take the next two turns to the left, +which will bring you into the square. I shall meet you there. Take your +time. There's no hurry.” + +About ten minutes later, I was stopped in a dark quiet alley by a hand +on the back of my neck. I saw no one. I heard no noise of breathing. In +the pitch blackness of the night the hand arrested me. It was like my +spine suddenly stiffening to a rod of ice. “Quiet,” said a strange voice +before I could scream. “Off with those Dutch clothes. Put on these. Off +with those sabots.” I was in a suit of English clothes in less than a +minute. “Boots,” the voice said in my ear. “Pull them on.” They were +long leather knee-boots, supple from careful greasing. In one of them I +felt something hard. My heart leapt as I felt it. + +It was a long Italian stiletto. I felt myself a seaman indeed, nay, +more than a seaman, a secret agent, with a pair of such boots upon me, +“heeled,” as the sailors call it, with such a weapon. “Go straight on,” + said the voice. + +As I started to go straight on, there was a sort of rustling behind me. +Some black figure seemed to vanish from me. Whoever the man was that had +brought me the clothes, he had vanished, just as an Indian will vanish +into grass six inches high. Thinking over my strange adventures, I +think that that changing of my clothes in the night was almost the most +strange of all. It was so eerie, that he should be there at all, a part +of Mr. Jermyn's plan, fitting into it exactly, though undreamed of by +me. Would indeed that all Mr. Jermyn's plans had carried through so +well. But it was not to be. One ought not to grumble. + +A few steps farther on, I came to a public square, on one side of which +(quite close to where I stood) was a wharf, crowded with shipping. I had +hardly expected the sea to be so near, somehow, but seeing it like that +I naturally stopped to look for the ship which was to carry me. The only +barquentine among the ships lay apart from the others, pointing towards +the harbour entrance. She seemed to be a fine big vessel, as far as +I could judge in that light. I lingered there for some few minutes, +looking at the ships, wondering why it was that Mr. Jermyn had not met +me. I was nervous about it. My nerves were tense from all the excitement +of the night. One cannot stand much excitement for long. I had had +enough excitement that night to last me through the week. As I stood +looking at the ships, I began to feel a horror of the wharf-side. I felt +as though the very stones of the place were my enemies, lying in wait +for me. I cannot explain the feeling more clearly than that. It was due +probably to the loneliness of the great empty square, dark as a tomb. +Then, expecting Mr. Jermyn, but failing to meet with him, was another +cause for dread. I thought, in my nervousness, that I should be in a +fine pickle if any enemies made away with Mr. Jermyn, leaving me alone, +in a strange land, with only a few silver pieces in my pocket. Still, +Mr. Jermyn was long in coming. My anxiety was almost more than I could +bear. + +At last, growing fearful that I had somehow missed him at the mouth of +the dark alley, I walked slowly back in my tracks, wishing that I had a +thicker jacket, since it was beginning to rain rather smartly. There was +a great sort of inn on the side of the square to which I walked. It had +lights on the second floor. The great windows of that story opened on +to balconies, in what is, I believe, the Spanish way of building. I +remember feeling bitterly how cheery the warm lights looked, inside +there, where the people were. I stood underneath the balcony out of the +rain, looking out sharply towards the alley, expecting at each instant +to see Mr. Jermyn. Still he did not come. I dared not move from where I +was lest I should miss him. I racked my brains to try to remember if I +had obeyed orders exactly. I wondered whether I had come to the right +square. I began to imagine all kinds of evil things which might have +happened to him. Perhaps that secret fiend of a woman had been too many +for him. Perhaps some other secret service people had waylaid him as +he entered the town. Perhaps he was even then in bonds in some cellar, +being examined for letters by some of the usurper's men. + + + +CHAPTER XI. AURELIA + +While I was fretting myself into a state of hysteria, the catch of one +of the great window-doors above me was pushed back. Someone came out on +the balcony just over my head. It was a woman, evidently in some great +distress, for she was sobbing bitterly. I thought it mean to stand there +hearing her cry, so I moved away. As I walked off, the window opened +again. A big heavy-looted man came out. + +“Stop crying, Aurelia,” the voice said. “Here's the stuff. Put it in +your pocket.” + +“I can't,” the woman answered. “I can't.” + +I stopped moving away when I heard that voice. It was the voice of the +Longshore Jack woman who had had those adventures with me. I should have +known her voice anywhere, even choked as it then was with sobs. It was a +good voice, of a pleasant quality, but with a quick, authoritative ring. + +“I can't,” she said. “I can't, Father.” + +“Put it in your pocket,” her father said. “No rubbish of that sort. You +must.” + +“It would kill me. I couldn't,” she answered. “I should hate myself +forever.” + +“No more of that to me,” said the cold, hard voice with quiet passion. +“Your silly scruples aren't going to outweigh a nation's need. There it +is in your pocket. Be careful you don't use too much. If you fail again, +remember, you'll earn your own living. Oh, you bungler! When I think +of--” + +“I'm no bungler. You know it,” she answered passionately. “I planned +everything. You silly men never backed me up. Who was it guessed right +this time? I suppose you think you'd have come here without my help? +That's like a man.” + +“Don't stand there rousing the town, Aurelia,” the man said. “Come in out +of the rain at once. Get yourself ready to start.” + +As the window banged to behind them, a figure loomed up out of the +night--two figures, more. I sprang to one side; but they were too quick +for me. Someone flung an old flour-sack over my head. Before I was ready +to struggle I was lying flat on the pavement, with a man upon my chest. + +“It's him,” said a voice. “You young rip, where are the letters?” + +“What letters?” I said, struggling, choking against the folds of the +sack. + +“Rip up his boots,” said another. “Dig him with a knife if he won't +answer.” + +“Bring him in to the Colonel,” said the first. + +“I've got no letters,” I said. + +“Lift him up quick,” said the man who had suggested the knife. “In with +him. Here's the watch.” + +“Quick, boys,” the leader said. “We mustn't be caught at this game.” + +Steps sounded somewhere in the square. Hearing them, I squealed with all +my strength, hoping that somebody would come. + +“Choke him,” said one of the men. + +I gave one more loud squeal before they jammed the sack on my mouth. +To my joy, the feet broke into a run. They were the feet of the watch, +coming to my rescue. + +“Up with him,” said the leader among my captors. “Quick, in to the +Colonel with him.” + +“No, no! Drop it. I'm off. Here's the watch,” cried the other hurriedly. + +They let me drop on to the pavement after half lifting me. In five +seconds more they were scattering to shelter. As I rose to my feet, +flinging off the flour-sack, I found myself in the midst of the city +watch, about a dozen men, all armed, whose leader carried a lantern. +The windows of the great inn were open; people were thronging on to the +balcony to see what the matter was; citizens came to their house-doors. +At that moment, Mr. Jermyn appeared. The captain of the guard was asking +questions in Dutch. The guardsmen were peering at my face in the lantern +light. + +Mr. Jermyn questioned me quickly as to what had happened. He interpreted +my tale to the guard. I was his servant, he told them. I had been +attacked by unknown robbers, some of whom, at least, were English. One +of them had tried to stifle me with a flour-sack, which, on examination +under the lantern, proved to be the sack of Robert Harling, Corn-miller, +Eastry. Goodness knows how it came to be there; for ship's flour travels +in cask. Mr. Jermyn gave an address, where we could be found if any of +the villains were caught; but he added that it was useless to expect +me to identify any of them, since the attack had been made in the dark, +with the victim securely blindfolded. He gave the leader of the men some +money. The guard moved away to look for the culprits (long before in +hiding, one would think), while Mr. Jermyn took me away with him. + +As we went, I looked up at the inn balcony, from which several heads +looked down upon us. Behind them, in the lighted room, in profile, in +full view, was the lady of the fierce eyes. I knew her at once, in spite +of the grey Spanish (man's) hat she wore, slouched over her face. She +was all swathed in a Spanish riding cloak. One took her for a handsome +young man. But I knew that she was my enemy. I knew her name now, too; +Aurelia. She was looking down at me, or rather at us, for she could not +have made out our faces. Her face was sad. She seemed uninterested; +she had, perhaps, enough sorrow of her own at that moment, without +the anxieties of others. A big, burly, hulking, handsome person of the +swaggering sort which used to enter the army in those days, left the +balcony hurriedly. I saw him at the window, speaking earnestly to her, +pointing to the square, in which, already, the darkness hid us. I saw +the listlessness fall from her. She seemed to waken up into intense life +in an instant. She walked with a swift decision peculiar to her +away from the window, leaving the hulking fellow, an elderly, +dissolute-looking man, with the wild puffy eyes of the drinker, to pick +his teeth in full view of the square. + +When we left watching our enemies, Mr. Jermyn bade me walk on tiptoe. We +scurried away across the square diagonally, pausing twice to listen for +pursuers. No one seemed to be following. There was not much sense in +following; for the guard was busy searching for suspicious persons. We +heard them challenging passers-by, with a rattle of their halberds +on the stones, to make their answers prompt. We were safe enough from +persecution for the time. We went down a dark street into a dark alley. +From the alley we entered a courtyard, the sides of which were vast +houses. We entered one of these houses. The door seemed to open in the +mysterious way which had puzzled me so much in Fish Lane. Mr. Jermyn +smiled when I asked him how this was done. “Go on in, boy,” he said. +“There are many queer things in lives like ours.” He gave me a shove +across the threshold, while the door closed itself silently behind us. + +He took me into a room which was not unlike a marine store of the better +sort. There were many sailor things (all of the very best quality) lying +in neat heaps on long oak shelves against the walls. In the middle of +the room a table was laid for dinner. + +Mr. Jermyn made me eat a hearty meal before starting, which I did. As +I ate, he fidgeted about among some lockers at my back. Presently, as I +began to sip some wine which he had poured out for me, he put something +over my shoulders. + +“Here,” he said, “this is the satchel, Martin. Keep the straps drawn +tight always. Don't take it off till you give it into Mr. Blick's hands. +His own hands, remember. Don't take it off even at night. When you lie +down, lash it around your neck with spun-yarn.” All this I promised most +faithfully to do. “But,” I said, examining the satchel, which was like +an ordinary small old weather-beaten satchel for carrying books, “where +are the letters, sir?” + +“Sewn into the double,” he answered. “You wouldn't be able to sew so +neatly as that. Would you, now?” + +“Oh, yes, I should, sir,” I replied. “I am a pretty good hand with a +sail-needle. The Oulton fishermen used to teach me the stitches. I can +do herring-bone stitch. I can even put a cringle into a sail.” + +“You're the eighth wonder of the world, I think,” Mr. Jermyn said. “But +choose, now. Choose a kit for yourself. You won't get a chance to change +your clothes till you get to Mr. Blick's if you don't take some from +here. So just look round the room here. Take whatever you want.” + +I felt myself to have been fairly well equipped by the stranger who had +made me change my clothes in the alley. But I knew how cold the Channel +may be even in June; so I chose out two changes of thick underwear. +Weapons I had no need for, with the armory already in my belt; but a +heavy tarred jacket with an ear-flap collar was likely to be useful, so +I chose that instead. It was not more than ten sizes too large for me; +that did not matter; at sea one tries to keep warm; appearances are not +much regarded. Last of all, when I had packed my satchel, I noticed +a sailor's canvas “housewife” very well stored with buttons, etc. I +noticed that it held what is called a “palm,” that is, the leather +hand-guard used by sail-makers for pushing the needle through sail +cloth. It occurred to me, vaguely, that such a “housewife” would be +useful, in case my clothes got torn, so I stuffed it into my satchel +with the other things. I saw that it contained a few small sail-needles +(of the kind so excellent as egg-borers) as well as some of the strong +fine sail-twine, each thread of which will support a weight of fifty +pounds. I put the housewife into my store with a vague feeling of being +rich in the world's goods, with such a little treasury of necessaries; I +had really no thought of what that chance impulse was to do for me. + +“Are you ready?” Mr. Jermyn asked. + +“Yes, sir. Quite ready.” + +“Take this blank drawing-book,” he said, handing me a small pocket-book, +in which a pencil was stuck. “Make a practice of drawing what you see. +Draw the ships. Make sketches of the coast. You will find that such +drawings will give you great pleasure when you come to be old. They will +help you, too, in impressing an object on your mind. Drawing thus will +give you a sense of the extraordinary wonder of the universe. It will +teach you a lot of things. Now let's be off. It's time we were on +board.” + +When we went out of the house we were joined by three or four seamen who +carried cases of bottles (probably gin bottles). We struck off towards +the ship together at a brisk pace, singing one of those quick-time songs +with choruses to which the sailors sometimes work. The song they sang +was that very jolly one called “Leave her, Johnny.” They made such a +noise with the chorus of this ditty that Mr. Jermyn was able to refresh +my memory in the message to be given to Mr. Blick. + +The rain had ceased before we started. When we came into the square, we +saw that cressets, or big flaming port-fires, had been placed along +the wharf, to give light to some seamen who were rolling casks to the +barquentine. A little crowd of idlers had gathered about the workers to +watch them at their job; there may have been so many as twenty people +there. They stood in a pretty strong, but very unsteady light, by which +I could take stock of them. I looked carefully among them for the figure +of a young man in a grey Spanish hat; but he was certainly not there. +The barquentine had her sails loosed, but not hoisted. Some boats were +in the canal ahead, ready to tow her out. She had also laid out a +hawser, by which to heave herself out with her capstan. I could see at +a glance that she was at the point of sailing. As we came up the +plank-gangway which led to her deck we were delayed for a moment by a +seaman who was getting a cask aboard. + +“Beg pardon, sir,” he said to Mr. Jermyn. “I won't keep you waiting +long. This cask's about as heavy as nitre.” + +“What 'a' you got in that cask, Dick?” said the boatswain, who kept a +tally at the gangway. + +“Nitre or bullets, I guess,” said Dick, struggling to get the cask on to +the gang plank. “It's as heavy as it knows how.” + +“Give Dick a hand there,” the boatswain ordered. A seaman who was +standing somewhere behind me came forward, jogging my elbow as he +passed. In a minute or two they had the cask aboard. + +“It's red lead,” said the boatswain, examining the marks upon it. “Sling +it down into the 'tweendecks.” + +After this little diversion, I was free to go down the gangway with +Mr. Jermyn. The captain received us in the cabin. He seemed to know my +“uncle Blick,” as he called him, very well indeed. I somehow didn't like +the looks of the man; he had a bluff air; but it seemed to sit ill +upon him. He reminded me of the sort of farmer who stands well with his +parson or squire, while he tyrannizes over his labourers with all the +calculating cowardly cruelty of the mean mind. I did not take to Captain +Barlow, for all his affected joviality. + +However, the ship was sailing. They showed me the little trim cabin +which was to be mine for the voyage. Mr. Jermyn ran ashore up the +gangway, after shaking me by the hand. He called to me over his shoulder +to remember him very kindly to my uncle. A moment later, as the hawsers +were cast off, the little crowd on the wharf called out “Three cheers +for the Gara barquentine,” which the Gara's crew acknowledged with three +cheers for Pierhead, in the sailor fashion. We were moving slowly under +the influence of the oared boats ahead of us, when a seaman at the +forward capstan began to sing the solo part of an old capstan chanty. +The men broke in upon him with the chorus, which rang out, in its sweet +clearness, making echoes in the city. I ran to the capstan to heave with +them, so that I, too, might sing. I was at the capstan there, heaving +round with the best of them, until we were standing out to sea, beyond +the last of the fairway lights, with our sails trimmed to the +strong northerly wind. After that, being tired with so many crowded +excitements, which had given me a life's adventures since supper-time, I +went below to my bunk, to turn in. + +I took off my satchel, intending to tie it round my neck after I had +undressed. Some inequality in the strap against my fingers made me hold +it to the cabin lamp to examine it more closely. To my horror, I saw +that the strap had been nearly cut through in five places. If it had not +been of double leather with an inner lining of flexible wire, any one +of those cuts would have cut the thong clean in two. Then a brisk twitch +would have left the satchel at the cutter's mercy. It gave me a lively +sense of the craft of our enemies, to see those cuts in the leather. I +had felt nothing. I had suspected nothing. Only once, for that instant +on the wharf, when we stopped to let Dick get his barrel aboard, had +they had a chance to come about me. Yet in that instant of time they had +suspected that that satchel contained letters. They had made their bold +attempt to make away with it. They had slashed this leather in five +places with a knife as sharp as a razor. But had it been on the wharf, +that this was done? I began to wonder if it could have been on the +wharf. Might it not have been done when I was at the capstan, heaving +round on the bar? I thought not. I must have noticed a seaman doing such +a thing. It would have been impossible for any one to have cut the strap +there; for the capstan was always revolving. The man next to me on the +bar never took his hands from the lever, of that I was certain. The men +on the bar behind me could not have reached me. Even if they had reached +me the mate must have noticed it. I knew that sailors were often clever +thieves; but I did not believe that they could have been so clever under +the mate's eye. If it had not been done at the capstan it could not have +been done since I came aboard; for there had been no other opportunity. +I was quite convinced, after a moment's thought, that it had been done +on the wharf before I came aboard. Then I wondered if it had been done +by common shore thieves, or “nickers,” who are always present in our +big seaport towns, ready to steal whenever they get a chance. But I was +rather against this possibility; for my mind just then was much too full +of Aurelia's party. I saw their hands in it. It would have needed very +strong evidence to convince me that they were not at the bottom of this +last attack, as they had doubtless been in the attack under the inn +balcony. + +Thinking of their cunning with some dismay, I went to my door to secure +it. I was in my stockinged feet at the moment, as I had kicked my +boots off on coming into the cabin. My step, therefore, must have been +noiseless. Opening the door smartly, half-conscious of some slight noise +on the far side, I almost ran into Captain Barlow, who was standing +without. He showed a momentary confusion, I thought, at seeing me thus +suddenly. It was a bad sign. To me, in my excited nervous state, it was +a very bad sign. It convinced me that he had been standing there, trying +to spy upon me through the keyhole, with what purpose I could guess only +too well. His face changed to a jovial grin in an instant; but I felt +that he was searching my face narrowly for some sign of suspicion. + +“I was just coming in to see if you wanted anything,” he said. + +“No. Nothing, thanks,” I answered. “But what time's breakfast, sir?” + +“Oh, the boy'll call you,” he answered. “Is that your school satchel? +Hey? What you carry your books in? Let's see it?” + +“Oh,” I said, as lightly as I could, feeling that he was getting on +ticklish ground. “I've not unpacked it yet. It's got all my things in +it.” + +By this time he was well within my cabin. “Why,” he said, “this strap's +almost cut in two. Does your master let you bring your satchel to school +in that state? How did it come to be cut like that? Hey?” + +I made some confused remark about its having always been in that state; +as it was an old satchel which my father used for a shooting-bag. I had +never known boys to carry books in a satchel. That kind of school was +unknown to me. + +“Well,” he said, fingering the strap affectionately, as though he was +going to lift it off my head, “you let me take it away with me. I've got +men in this ship, who can mend a cut leather strap as neat as you've no +idea of. They'd sew up a cut like them so as you'd hardly know it had +been cut.” + +I really feared that he would have the bag away from me by main force. +But I rallied all my forces to save it. “I'm lagged now,” I said. “I +haven't undone my things. I'll give it to you in the morning.” + +It seemed to me that he looked at me rather hard when I said this; but +he evidently thought “What can it matter? Tomorrow will serve just as +well.” So he just gave a little laugh. “Right,” he said. “You turn in +now. Give it to me in the morning. Good night, boy.” + +“Good night,” I said, as he left the cabin, adding, under my breath, +“Good riddance, too. You won't find quite so much when you come to +examine this bag by daylight.” After he had gone--but not at once, as I +wished not to make him suspicious,--I locked my cabin-door. Then I hung +my tarred sea-coat on the door-hook, so that the flap entirely covered +the keyhole. There were bolts on the door, but the upper one alone could +be pushed home. With this in its place felt secure from spies. Yet not +too secure. I was not certain that the bulkheads were without crannies +from which I could be watched. The crack by the door-hinge might, for +all I knew, give a very good view of the inside of the cabin. Thinking +that I might still be under observation I decided to put off what I had +to do until the very early morning, so I undressed myself for bed. I +took care to put out the light before turning in, so that I might not +be seen lashing the satchel round my neck with a length of spunyarn. I +slept with my head upon it. + + + +CHAPTER XII. BRAVE CAPTAIN BARLOW + +Very early the next morning, at about half-past four, a little before +sunrise, I woke up with a start, wondering where I was. Looking through +my little scuttle port, I could see the flashing of bright waves, +which sometimes dowsed my window with a shower of drops. The ship +was apparently making about three knots an hour, under all her sails. +Directly I woke, I turned out of my bunk to do what I had to do. After +dressing, I took my sail-making tools from my housewife. I had resolved +to cut the letters from their hiding-place so that I might make them +up into tiny rolls, small enough to hide in my pistol cartridges. Very +carefully I cut the threads which bound the leather flaps of the satchel +together. I worked standing up, with the satchel in my bunk. I could +hardly have been seen from any point. In a few moments the letters were +in my hands. They were small sheets of paper, each about four inches +square. They were nine in number, all different. They were covered with +a neat cipher very different from the not very neat, not quite formed +hand of the Duke himself. What the cipher was, I did not know. It was +one of the many figure ciphers then in use. I learned long afterwards +that the figures which frequently occurred in them stood for King +James II. Such as they were, those cipher letters made a good deal of +difference to many thousands of people then living contentedly at home. + +As soon as I had removed them, I rolled them up very carefully into +pistol cartridges from which I drew the charges. I was just going to +throw away the powder, when I thought, “No, I'll put the powder back. +It'll make the fraud more difficult to detect.” So I put the powder back +with great care. Then I searched my mind for something with which to +seal up the cartridge wads over the powder. I could think of nothing at +all, till I remembered the tar-seams at my feet. I dug up a fragment of +tar-seam from the dark corners of the cabin under my bunk. Then I lit my +lamp with my little pocket tinder-box, so that I could heat the tar as I +needed it. It took me a long time to finish the cartridges properly; but +I flatter myself that I made neat jobs of them. I was trained to neat +habits by my father. The Oulton seamen had given me a taste for doing +clever neat work, such as plaits or pointing, so that I was not such a +bungler at delicate handicraft as most boys of my age. I even took the +trouble to hide the tar marks on my wads by smearing wetted gunpowder +all over them. When I had hidden all the letters, I wrote out a few +pencilled notes upon leaves neatly cut from my pocket-book. I wrote a +varying arrangement of ciphers on each leaf, in the neatest hand I could +command. I always made neat figures; but as I had not touched a pen for +nearly a month, I was out of practice. Still, I did very creditably. I +am quite sure that my neat ciphers gave the usurper James a very trying +week of continual study. I daresay the whole privy council puzzled over +those notes of mine. I felt very pleased with them when they were done. + +I had not much more than a half-hour left to me when I finished writing +them out. The ship's bells told me that it was seven o'clock. Cabin +breakfast, as I knew very well, would be at eight. I could expect to +be called at half past seven. I put the two flaps of the satchel evenly +together, removing all traces of the thread used in the earlier sewing. +Then I very trimly sewed the two flaps with my sail-needle, using all +my strength to make secure stitches. I used some brown soap in the +wash-stand as thread wax, to make the sewing more easy. “There,” I +thought, “no one will suspect that this was sewn by a boy.” When I had +finished, I thought of dirtying the twine to make the work look old; but +I decided to let well alone. I might so easily betray my hand by trying +to do too much. The slight trace of the soap made the work look old +enough. But I took very great care to remove all traces of my work +in the cabin. The little scraps of thread which I had cut out of the +satchel I ate, as I could see no safer means of getting rid of them. I +cannot say that they disagreed with me, though they were not very easy +to get down. My palm, being a common sea-implement, not likely to +seem strange in a ship's cabin, I hid in a locker below my bunk. My +sail-needles I thrust at first into the linings of the pockets of my +tarred sea-coat. On second thoughts, I drove them into the mattress of +my bunk. My hank of twine I dropped on deck later, when I went out to +breakfast. Having covered all traces of my morning's work, I washed with +a light heart. When some one came to my cabin-door to call me, I cried +out that I would be out in a minute. + +When the breakfast bell rang, I walked aft to the great cabin, with my +satchel over my shoulder. The captain asked me how I had slept; so +I said that I had slept like a top, until a few minutes before I was +called. + +“That's the way with you young fellows,” he said. “When you come to be +my age you won't be able to do that.” Presently, as we were sitting down +to breakfast, he began his attack upon the satchel. “You still got your +satchel, I see,” he said. “Do you carry it about with you always? Or are +you pretending to be a military man with a knapsack?” + +I looked a little uncomfortable at this; but not from the reason which +flashed through his mind. I said that I liked carrying it about, as it +served instead of a side coat-pocket, which was perfectly true. + +“By the way,” he said; “you must let me take that beloved satchel after +breakfast, so that I can get the strap sewn up for you.” + +It came into my mind to look blank at this. I stammered as I said that I +didn't mind the straps being cut, because there was a wire heart to the +leather which would hold till we got to England, when I could put on a +new strap for myself. + +“Oh, nonsense,” he said, serving out some of the cold bacon from the +dish in front of him. “Nonsense. What would your uncle say if you landed +slovenly like that? Besides, now you're at sea you're a sailor. Sailors +don't wear things like that at meals any more than they wear their +hats.” + +After this, I saw that there was no further chance of retaining the +satchel, so I took it from my neck, but grudgingly, as though I hated +doing so. I heard no more about it till after breakfast, when he made a +sudden playful pounce upon it, as it lay upon the chair beside me, at an +instant when I was quite unprepared to save it. + +“Aha,” he cried, waving his booty. “Now then. Now.” + +I knew that he would expect a passionate outcry from me, nor did I +spare it; because I meant him to think that I knew the satchel contained +precious matters. + +“No, no,” I cried. “Let me have it. I don't want it mended.” + +“What?” he said. “Not want it mended? It must be mended.” + +At this I made a sort of playful rush to get it. He dodged away from me, +laughing. I attacked again, playing my part admirably, as I thought, +but taking care not to overdo it. At last, as though fearing to show too +great an anxiety about the thing, I allowed him to keep it. I asked him +if he would be able to sew the leather over the wire heart. + +“Why, yes,” he said. I could see that he smiled. He was thinking that I +had stopped struggling in order to show him that I set no real value on +the satchel. He was thinking that he saw through my cunning. + +“Might I see you sew it up?” I said. “I should like to learn how to sew +up leather.” + +He thought that this was another sign of there being letters in the +satchel, this wish of mine to be present when the sewing was done. + +“Why, yes,” he said. “I'll do it here. You shall do it yourself if you +like. I will teach you.” So saying, he tossed me an orange from his +pocket. “Eat that,” he said, “while I go on deck to take the sights.” + +He left the cabin, swinging the satchel carelessly in his left hand. I +thought to myself that I had better play anxiety; so, putting the orange +on the table, I followed him into the 'tweendecks, halting at the door, +as though in fear about the satchel's fate. Looking back, he saw me +there. My presence confirmed him in his belief that he had got my +treasure. He waved to me. “Back in a minute,” he said. “Stay in the +cabin till I come back. There's a story-book in the locker.” + +I turned back into the cabin in a halting, irresolute way which no doubt +deceived him as my other movements had deceived him. When I had shut the +door, I went to the locker for the story-book. + +Now the story-book, when I found it, was not a story-book, but a little +thick book of Christian sermons by various good bishops. I read one of +them through, to try, but I did not understand it. Then I put the book +down with the sudden thought: “This Captain Barlow cannot read. He +thinks that these sermons are stories. Now who is it in this ship to +whom the letters will be shown? Or can there be no one here? Is he going +to steal the letters to submit them to somebody ashore?” + +I was pretty sure that there was somebody shut up in the ship who was +concerned in the theft with Barlow. I cannot tell what made me so sure. +I had deceived the captain so easily that I despised him. I did not give +him credit for any intelligence whatsoever. Perhaps that was the reason. +Then it came over me with a cold wave of dismay that perhaps the woman +Aurelia was on board, hidden somewhere, but active for mischief. I +remembered that scrap of conversation from the inn-balcony. I wondered +if that secret mission mentioned then was to concern me in any way. What +was it, I wondered, that was put into her pocket by her father as she +stood crying there, just above me? If she were on board, then I must +indeed look to myself, for she was probably too cunning a creature to +be deceived by my forgeries. The very thought of having her in the ship +with me was uncomfortable. I felt that I must find some more subtle +hiding-place for my letters than I had found hitherto. I may have +idealized the woman, in my alarm, into a miracle of shrewdness. At +any rate I knew that she would be a much more dangerous opponent than +Captain Barlow, the jocular donkey who allowed himself to be fooled by +a schoolboy who was in his power. I knew, too, that she would probably +search me other letters, whether my ciphered blinds deceived her or not. +She was not one so easily satisfied as a merchant skipper; besides, she +had now two scores against me, as well as excellent reason to think me a +sharp young man. + +Presently, after half an hour's absence, the captain came back with the +satchel, evidently very pleased with himself. He seemed to find pleasure +in the sight of my pretended distress. “Why,” he said, with a grin; +“you've not eaten your orange.” + +“No, sir,” I said, “I'm not very hungry just after breakfast.” + +“Why, then,” he answered, “you must keep it for your dinner. Look how +nice I've mended your strap for you.” + +“Thank you very much, sir,” I said. “But thought that you were going to +do it here. You were going to teach me how to do it.” + +“Well, it's done now, isn't it?” he replied. “It's done pretty good, +too. I'll teach you how to sew some other time. I suppose they don't +learn you that, where you go to school?” + +“No, sir,” I said, “they don't.” + +“Ah,” he said, picking up the book. “You're a great one for your book, I +see. There's very good reading in a book like that.” + +“Yes,” I said, looking at the mended strap. “There is. How very neatly +you've mended the strap, sir. Thank you very much.” + +He looked at me with a look which said, very plainly, “You've got a fine +nerve, my lad, to pretend in that way.” + +I could see from his manner during the next few minutes that he wished +to keep me from examining the satchel flap. No doubt he thought that I +was on tenter-hooks all the time, to look to see if the precious letters +had been disturbed. At last, in a very easy way, after slinging the +strap round my shoulder, I pulled out my handkerchief, intending to put +it into the satchel as into an extra pocket. + +“I'm going up on deck, sir,” I said. “May I take the book with me?” + +As he said that I might, I swiftly opened the satchel, to pop the book +in. I could feel that he watched my face mighty narrowly all the time. +No doubt I looked guilty enough to convince him of his cleverness. I had +no more than a second's peep at the flap, but that was quite enough to +show me that it had been tampered with. I had finished off my work that +morning with an even neatness. The bold Captain Barlow had left two ends +of thread sticking out from the place where he had ended his stitch. +Besides, my thread had been soaped, to make it work more easily. The +thread in the flap now was plainly not soaped; it was fibrous to the +touch, not sleeked down, as mine had been. + +When I went on deck, I found the ship driving fast down Channel, making +an excellent passage. I took up my place by the mizzen-rigging, near +which there were no seamen at work, so that I could puzzle out a new +hiding-place for my letters. I noticed, as I stood there, that some men +were getting a boat over the side. It seemed a queer thing to be doing +in the Channel, so far from the port to which we were bound; but I did +not pay much attention to it at the time, as I was very anxious. I was +wondering what in the world I could do with the pistol cartridges which +I had made that morning. I feared Aurelia. For all that I could tell she +was looking at me as I stood there, guessing, from my face, that I had +other letters upon me. It did not occur to me that my anxiety might be +taken for grief at having the satchel searched. At last it came into +my head that Aurelia, if she were in the ship, would follow up that +morning's work promptly, before I could devise a fresh hiding-place. +At any rate I felt pretty sure that I should not be much out of that +observation until the night. It came into my head that the next attack +would be upon my boots; for in those days secret agents frequently hid +their papers above a false boot-sole, or stitched them into the double +leather where the beckets, or handles, joined the leg of the boot at the +rim. + +Sure enough, I had not been very long on deck when the ship's boy +appeared before me. He was an abject looking lad, like most ship's boys. +I suppose no one would become a ship's boy until he had proved himself +unfit for life anywhere else. Personally, I had rather be a desert +savage than a ship's boy. My experience on La Reina was enough to sicken +me of such a life forever. This barquentine's boy came up to me, as I +have said. + +“Sir,” he said, “can I take away your boots to black, please?” + +“No,” I answered, “my boots don't want blacking. I grease them myself.” + +“Please, sir,” he said, “do let me take them away, sir.” + +“No,” I said. “I grease them myself, thank you.” I thought that this +would end the business; but no such matter. + +“Please, sir,” he said, “I wish you would let me take them away. The +captain'll wale me if I don't. He gave me orders, sir.” + +“Don't call me 'sir,'” I said. “I'll see the captain myself.” + +I walked quickly to the companion-way, below which (listening to us, +like the creature he was) sat the captain, carving the end of a stick. + +“Please, sir,” I said, “I've already greased my boots this morning. I +always grease them.” (I had only had them about twelve hours.) “If I +blacked them they'd get so dry that they would crack.” + +“All right. All right, boy,” he answered. “I forgot you wore +soft-leather boots. They're the kind they buy up to make salt beef of at +the Navy Yard.” He grinned in my face, as though he were pleased; but +a few minutes later, when I had gone forward, I heard him thrashing the +wretched boy, because he had failed to get the boots from me for him. + +I soon found that I was pretty closely watched. If I went forward to the +fo'c's'le, I found myself dogged by the ship's boy, who was blubbering +from his whipping, poor lad, as though his heart would break. In between +his sobs, he tried to tell me the use of everything forward, which was +trying to me, as I knew more than he knew. If I went aft, the mate would +come rolling up, to ask me if I could hear the dog-fish bark yet. If I +went below the captain got on to my tracks at once. He was by far the +worst of the three: the other two were only obeying his orders. I went +into my cabin hoping to get rid of him there; but no, it was no use. +In he came, too, with the excuse that he wished to see if I had enough +clothes on my bunk. It was more worrying than words can tell. All the +time I wondered whether he would end by knocking me senseless so that +he might search my boots at his ease. I had the fear of that strongly on +me. I was tempted, yet feared, to drive him from me by threatening him +with my pistol. His constant dogging of me was intolerable. But had I +threatened him, he would have had an excuse for maltreating me. My +duty was to save the letters, not to worry about my own inconveniences. +Often, since then, I have suffered agonies of remorse at not giving up +the letters meekly. Had I done so, I might, who knows, have saved some +two thousand lives. Well. We are all agents of a power greater than +ourselves. Though I was, it may be, doing wrong then, I was doing wrong +unwittingly. Had things happened only a little differently, my wrong +would have turned out a glorious right. The name of Martin Hyde would +have been in the history books. He watched me narrowly as I took off +my waistcoat (pretending to be too hot), nor did he forget to eye +the waistcoat. “See here,” he said. “Do you know how a sailor folds a +waistcoat? Give it to me now. I'll show you.” He snatched it from my +hands with that rudeness which, in a boorish nature, passes for fun; he +only wished to feel it over so that if any letter were sewn within it he +might hear the paper crackle. The sailor's way of folding a waistcoat, +as shown by him then, was just the way which bent all the cloth in +folds. He seemed to be much disgusted at hearing no crackling as he +folded it. I could have laughed outright at his woeful face, had I been +less anxious. Had he been worth his salt as a spy he would have lulled +all my suspicions to sleep before beginning to search for letters. +Instead of that he went to work as crudely as a common footpad.. + + + +CHAPTER XIII. IT BREEZES UP + +After I had taken off my waistcoat, I went out into the 'tweendecks, +then into the grand cabin, then into the space below the booms. He +followed me everywhere, keeping me under observation, till I was tempted +to tell him where the letters were, so as to have a little peace. At +first he kept telling me stories, or making bad jokes; but very soon +he grew weary of pretending; he became surly. At this point I asked him +which was his cabin. He glowered at me for asking such a question, but +he pointed it out to me. It was a cabin no larger than my own, on +the opposite (that is the port) side of the 'tweendecks. I took the +opportunity (it was a bold stroke, evidently displeasing to him) of +looking in; for to tell the truth I had a suspicion that he slept in the +grand cabin, on the top of the locker. I thought that the stateroom +had another inmate. When I looked into it I expected to find myself in +Aurelia's presence. I did not want to see her; but I wished very eagerly +to know if she were in the ship or not. The stateroom was empty, but the +bunk, which had been slept in, was not yet made up. + +I do not know how much longer he would have dogged me about the ship. +To my great joy he was called from me by the mate, who cried down +the hatchway, bidding him come up at once, as there was “something in +sight.” Captain Barlow evidently wanted me to come on deck with him; +but I was resolute. I said I would stop below to have another try at his +stories. He went on deck surlily, saying something about “You wait,” + or “You whelp,” I could not catch his exact words. He turned at the +hatchway to see where I had gone. I had expected this move, so when +he looked, he saw me entering the grand cabin, just as I had said. I +watched him through the crack in the hinge; for I fully expected him to +return suddenly. As he did not return on the instant, I darted into my +own cabin just long enough to drop the letter cartridges into an old tin +slush-pot which was stowed in the locker below the bunk. I had noted it +in the early morning when I had done my sewing. I pressed the cartridges +into the slush, till they were all hidden. In another instant of time +the pot was back in the locker among the other oddments while I was +back in the cabin hard at work at my sermons. I was conscious that +the captain glanced through the skylight at me. No doubt what he saw +reassured him. For the moment I felt perfectly safe. + +About half an hour later, I heard a great noise of hauling on deck, +followed by the threshing of our sails, as though they had suddenly come +aback. I knew enough of the sea to know that if we were tacking there +would be other orders, while, if the helmsman had let the ship come +aback by accident I should have heard the officers rating him. I heard +neither nor orders; something else was happening. A glance out of the +stern windows showed me that the ship was no longer under way. She was +not moving through the water. It struck me that I had better go on deck +to see what was the matter. When I reached the deck I found that +the barquentine was hove-to (that is, held motionless by a certain +arrangement of the sails) about half a mile from a small full-rigged +ship which had hove-to likewise. The barquentine's boat was rapidly +pulling towards this full-rigged ship, with Captain Barlow sitting +in the stern-sheets. The ship was a man-of-war; for she flew the St. +George's banner, as well as a pennant. Her guns were pointing through +her ports, eight bright brass guns to a broadside. She was waiting +there, heaving in huge stately heaves, for Captain Barlow's message. + +Now I had had alarms enough since I entered the Duke's service; but I +confess this sight of the man-of-war daunted me worse than any of them. +I knew that Captain Barlow had stopped her, so that he might hand over +my letters to her captain; that was easily guessed The next question +was, would the captain insist on taking the messenger to be examined in +person. It was that which scared me worst. I had heard frightful tales +about political prisoners. They were shut up in the Tower dungeons, +away below the level of the Thames. They were examined there by masked +magistrates who wrung the truth from them by the “bootikins,” which +squeezed the feet, or by the thumbscrews, which twisted the thumbs. My +feet seemed to grow red-hot when I thought of that horror. I knew only +too well that my youth would not save me. James the Second was never +moved by pity towards a beaten enemy. I watched the arrival of the boat +at the ship's side, with the perspiration running down my face. I began +to understand, now, what was meant by the words high treason. I saw all +the majesty of the English Navy, all the law, all the noble polity of +England, arrayed to judge a boy to death, for a five minutes' prank. +They would drag me on a hurdle to Tyburn, as soon as torture had made me +tell my tale. + +But enough of my state of mind. I saw Captain Barlow go up the ship's +gangway, where an officer no doubt received him. Very soon afterwards he +came down the gangway again, half followed by some one who seemed to +be ordering him. His boat then shoved off for the barquentine. The +man-of-war got under way again by swinging her great mainyard smartly +about. The smother at her bows gleamed whiter at the very instant, as +she gathered way. It was a blessed sight to me, after my suspense, I +assure you; but I did not understand it till later. I learned later +on that Captain Barlow was one of a kind of men very common in those +troublous times. He was hedging, or trimming. He was quite willing to +make money by selling the Duke's plans to the King; but he had the sense +to see that the Duke's party might succeed, in which case the King's +favour would not be worth much. So his treason to the Duke stopped short +of the betrayal of men attached in any way to the Monmouth party. He +would betray letters, when he could lay his hands on them unobserved; +but he was not going to become an open enemy to the Duke until he knew +that the Duke's was the losing side; then he would betray men fast +enough. Until then, he would receive the trust of both factions, in +order to betray a portion of the confidence received from them. + +The day dragged by for me somehow, uncomfortably, under the captain's +eye. It was one of the longest days I have ever known. It sickened me +utterly of the life of adventure to which I now seemed pledged. I vowed +that if I had the chance I would write to my uncle from Mr. Blick's +house, begging to be received back. That seemed to be the only way of +escape possible to me. It did not seem hopeful; but it gave me some +solace to think of it. I longed to be free from these terrors. You +don't know what an adventurous life is. I will tell you. It is a life of +sordid unquiet, pursued without plan, like the life of an animal. Have +you seen a dog trying to cross a busy street? There is the adventurer. +Or the rabbit on the cliff, in his state of continual panic; he, too, +lives the adventurous life. What does the world owe to the adventurer? +But there. I become impatient. One patient hero in his garret is worth +all these silly fireworks put together. + +One thing more happened on that day. The breeze freshened all the +afternoon till by bedtime it blew what is called a fresh gale. Captain +Barlow drove his ship till she shook to her centre, not because he liked +(like many sailors) to show his vessel's paces; but because he sat at +his bottle too long after dinner. He was half drunk by supper time, too +drunk to take the sail off her, so we drove on down Channel, trusting to +the goodness of the gear. There would have been a pretty smash-up if we +had had to alter our course hurriedly. As it was we were jumping like a +young colt, in a welter of foam, with two men at the tiller, besides a +gang on the tackles. I never knew any ship to bound about so wildly. I +passed the evening after supper on deck, enjoying the splendour of that +savage leaping rush down Channel, yet just a little nervous at the sight +of our spars buckling under the strain. The captain was drunk before +dark; we could hear him banging the table with his bottle. The mate, who +was on the poop with me, kept glancing from the spars to the skylight; +he was getting frightened at the gait we were going. “Young man,” he +said, “d'ye know the sailor's catechism?” + +“No, sir,” I answered. “Well,” he said, “it's short but sweet, like a +ration of rum. What is the complete duty of a sailorman? You don't know? +It's this. OBEY ORDERS, IF YOU BREAK OWNERS. My orders are not to take +off sail till Mr. drunken Barlow sees fit. You'll see a few happenings +aloft just now if he don't see fit soon.” Just at that instant she gave +a lurch which sent one of the helmsmen flying. The mate leaped to his +place with an angry exclamation. “Another man to the helm,” he cried. +“You, boy. Run below. Tell the captain she'll be dismasted in another +five minutes.” He was in the right of it. A blind man could have told +that the ship was being over-driven. I ran down, as eager as the mate to +put an end to the danger. + +When I went below, I found the captain in my cabin, rummaging +everywhere. He had flung out the contents of the lockers, my bedclothes, +everything, in a jumble on the deck, which, in a drunken aimless way he +was examining by the light of a couple of dip candles, stuck to the edge +of the bunk. It was not a time to mind about that. “Sir,” I said, “the +ship is sinking. Come on deck, sir; take the sail off. The mate says the +ship is sinking.” + +“Eh,” said the captain furiously. “You young spy. I command this ship. +What's the sail got to do with you?” He glared at me in drunken anger. + +“You young whelp,” he cried, grabbing me by the collar. “Where are your +letters? Eh? Where've you hid your letters?” + +At that instant, there came a more violent gust in the fierceness of +wind which drove us. The ship gave a “yank;” there is no other word to +express the frightful shock of her movement. She lay down on her lee +beam ends with a crash of breaking crockery. Casks broke loose in the +hold; gear fell from aloft; the captain was flung under me against the +ship's side. The deck beneath us sloped up like a roof. In the roar +of water rushing down the hatch I remember thinking that the Day of +Judgment was come. Yells on deck mingled with all the uproar; I heard +something thud like a sledge-hammer on the ship's side. The captain +picked himself up holding his head, which was all one gore of blood from +the crack against the ship's side. “Beam ends,” he said stupidly. “Beam +ends. Yes. Yes.” He was dazed; he did not know what he said; but some +sort of sailor's instinct told him that he was wanted on deck. At any +rate he went out, pulling himself up the steep deck with a cleverness +which I had not expected. He left me clutching the ledge of the bunk, +staring up at the door away above me, while the wreck of my belongings +banged about at my feet. I thought it was all over with the ship; but I +was not scared at the prospect of death; only a little sickish from +the shock of that sudden sweeping over. I found a fascination in the +horrible open door, the black oblong hole in the air through which the +captain had passed. I waited for the sea to pour down it. I expected +to see a clear mass of water with fish in it; something quite calm, +something beautiful, not the noisy horror of the sea outside. I suppose +I waited like that for a full minute before the roar of the squall grew +less. Then I told myself that I must go on deck; that the danger would +be less, looking it in the face, than down there in the cabin. It +was not pleasant to go on deck, any more than it is pleasant to go +downstairs at two in the morning to look for burglars, but it was better +to be moving than staying still. I clenched my fist upon the only dip +which remained alight (the other was somewhere in the jumble under my +feet). Then, catching hold of the door-hook I pulled myself up to the +door, where I steadied myself for a moment. While I stood there I had +a horrible feeling of the ship having died under my feet. She had been +leaping so gallantly only five minutes before. Now she lay with her +heart broken, while the seas beat her with great thumps. + +Two battle-lanterns lit the after 'tweendecks. There was a great heap +of staved in casks, slopping about in an inch or two of water, all along +that side, thrown there by the smash. I could hear the men yelling on +deck. Captain Barlow was swearing in loud shouts. I could hear all this +in the lull of the squall. I heard more than that, as I stood listening. +I heard the faint crying out of a woman's voice from the steward's +pantry (next door to the captain's cabin) on the opposite side, across +the steep, tipped up slippery decks. At first I thought it must be +the poor cat; but as the wind passed, letting me hear more clearly, I +recognized that it was a woman's voice, crying out there in the darkness +with a note of pain. I did not think of Aurelia. She never entered my +head. All that I thought was “Poor creature! What a place for a woman!” + The ship was jerking, you might almost call it gasping, as the seas +struck her; it was no easy job to climb along that roof-slope of the +deck with nothing to hold on by. I got across somehow, partly by luck, +partly by fingernails. I even managed to open the pantry door, which was +another difficulty, as it opened inwards, into the cabin. As I opened +it, a suck of wind blew out my light. There I was in the dark, with a +hurt woman, in a ship which for all I knew, might sink with all hands +in twenty seconds. It is queer; I didn't mind the ship sinking. What I +disliked was being in the dark with an unknown somebody who whimpered. + +“Are you much hurt?” I asked. “Hold on a minute. I'll strike a light.” + I shut myself into the cabin, so as to keep out the draught. My feet +kicked among the steward's crockery. It was as dark in that cubby-hole +as in a grave. The unknown person, probably fearing me, thinking me some +rough drunken sailor, was crying out now more in terror than in pain. +She was begging me not to hurt her. I probably frightened her a good +deal by not replying. The tinder box took up all my attention for a +good couple of minutes. A tinder box is not a thing to get light by +hurriedly. You try some day, to see how quickly you can light a candle +by one. When I got the candle lit, I thought of the battle-lanterns +swinging outside all the time. I might have saved myself all that +trouble by using a little common sense. Well. Wait till you stand as I +stood, with your heart in your boots, down in a pit of death, you'll see +how much common sense will remain in your fine brains. + +When the flame took hold of the wick, so that I could look about me, I +saw the lady Aurelia lying among the smashed up gear to leeward. She had +been lying down, reading in a sort of bunk which had been rigged up for +her on the locker-top. The shock had flung her clean out of the bunk +on to the deck. At the same moment an avalanche of gear had fetched to +leeward. A cask had rolled on to her left hand, pinning her down to +the deck, while a box of bottles had cut the back of her head. A more +complete picture of misery you could not hope to see. There was all +the ill-smelling jumble of steward's gear, tumbled in a heap of smash, +soaking in the oil from the fallen lamp. There was a good deal of blood +about. Aurelia was lying in all the debris half covered with salted fish +from one of the capsized casks. They looked like huge leaves. She seemed +to have been buried under them, like a babe in the wood. She grew calm +when she saw me. “There are candles under the bunk,” she said. “Light +two or three. Tell me what has happened.” + +I did not answer till I had lighted three or four more candles. “The +ship's on her beam ends,” I said. “It's the captain's fault. But never +mind that. I must get you out. Are you badly hurt, do you think?” + +“I'm all right,” she said with a gasp. “But it's being pinned in here. I +thought I was going to be pinned down while I was being drowned.” + +“Shut your eyes, please,” I said. “Bite your lip. It'll hurt, I'm +afraid, getting this cask off your hand. Are you ready. Now.” I did it +as gently as I could; but it made me turn all cold to think of the hand +under all that weight. + +“Can you withdraw your hand, now?” I asked, tilting the cask as far up +as I could. + +“No,” she said. “Look out. I'll roll out.” In another two seconds she +was sitting up among the crockery with her face deathly white against +the bulkhead; she had fainted. There was a water-carafe on a bracket up +above my head. I splashed her face with water from it till she rallied. +She came to herself with a little hysterical laugh, at the very instant +when something giving way aloft let the ship right herself again. “Hold +on a minute,” I said. “Take this water. Now drink a little. I'll be back +in a moment.” The ship was rolling drunkenly in the trough of the sea; +but I made a nimble rush to the cabin, where the captain's cruet of +brandy bottles still swung from a hook in the beams. I ran back to her +with a bottle of brandy. There were a few unbroken mugs in the pantry, +so I gave her a drink of brandy, which brought the colour back to her +cheeks. While she sat there, in the mess of gear which slid about as the +ship rolled, I got a good big jug of water from the scuttle-butt in the +'tweendecks. I nipped on deck with it to ask the mate for some balsam, +an excellent cure for cuts which most sailors carry to sea with them. +There was mess enough on deck in all conscience. I found the foretopmast +gone over the side, in a tangle of torn rope at which all hands were +furiously hacking. The mate was on the fo'c'sle hacking at some gear +with a tomahawk. I did not see the captain. + +“Mr. mate,” I cried. “I want some balsam, quick.” + +“Get out of this,” he shouted. “Get out of this. I can't attend to your +hurts. Don't come bothering here.” + +“It's for the lady,” I said, “the lady down below.” + +“In my chest. Look in my chest till,” he said. “Now stand dear. I've +trouble enough without ladies in the case. Are you all clear, you, aft +there?” + +“All gone here, sir,” the men shouted back. “Shall we sling a bowline +over the foot?” + +“No,” he shouted. “Look out. She's going.” + +For just a second I saw the mass of spar all tangled up with sail rise +up on a wave as it drifted past. I found myself wondering why we had all +been in the shadow of death only a couple of minutes before. There was +no thought of danger now. I ran below for the balsam, which I found +without difficulty. + + + +CHAPTER XIV. A DRINK OF SHERBET + +I took what handkerchiefs I could find into the pantry with me. “There's +no danger,” I said. “The ship's all right. How are you now? Let me give +you some more brandy.” I gave her a little more brandy; then I helped +her on to the top of the locker. Pouring out some water into the basin I +bathed the cut on her head. It was a clean long cut which would probably +have gone through the bone had not her hair been so thick. I dressed it +as well as I could with balsam, then bound it tightly up with a white +handkerchief. The hand was a good deal more, difficult to manage; it +was nastily crushed; though no bones were broken. The wrist was so much +swollen that I had to cut open the sleeve of her man's riding jacket. +Then I bathed the hand with cold water mixed with vinegar (which I had +heard was cooling) till I felt that the time had come to bandage it, so +that the patient might lie down to rest. She had been much shaken by her +fall. I don't think it ever once occurred to me to think of her as my +enemy. I felt too much pity for her, being hurt, like that. “Look here,” + I said. “You'll have to wear that arm in a sling. I'll bandage it up for +you nicely.” She bore my surgery like the hero she was; it didn't look +very wonderful when it was done; but she said that the pain was a good +deal soothed. That was not the end though. I had to change cabins +with her, since I could not let a hurt woman sleep in that bunk in the +pantry; she might so easily be flung from it a second time. So I shifted +her things into my cabin, where I made all tidy for her. As for the +precious slush can, I stowed that carefully away, at the back of some +lumber in one of the pantry lockers, where it would not be found. +Altogether, it took me about twenty minutes to make everything ready, +by which time the little accident on deck had been forgotten, except by +those who had to do the work of sending up a new topmast; a job which +kept all hands busy all night. The ship was making a steady three knots. +under her reduced sail when I helped Aurelia across to her new room. +There was no more thought of danger. + +As I paused at the cabin door, to ask if there was anything more which I +could do for her, the lady turned to me. + +“What is your name?” she asked. I am ashamed to say that I hesitated, +being half inclined to give her a false name; for my time of secret +service had given me a thorough distrust of pretty nearly everybody. She +noticed my hesitation. “As a friend to another friend,” she added. “Life +isn't all the King's service.” + +“My name is Martin Hyde,” I said. + +“Mine is Aurelia,” she replied, “Aurelia Carew. Will you remember that?” + I told her that I should certainly remember that. “We seem to have met +before,” she said, “more than once.” + +“Yes,” I answered, smiling. She, too, smiled, but she quickly became +grave again. + +“Mr. Martin Hyde,” she said, with a little catch in her voice, “we two +are in opposite camps. But I don't know. After this, it's difficult. +I warn you.” Here she stopped, quite unable to go on. “I can't,” she +continued, more to herself than to me, “I can't. They oughtn't to have +put this on me. They oughtn't. They oughtn't.” She laid her unhurt hand +on my shoulder for a moment. “Let me warn you,” she said earnestly, +“that you're in danger.” + +“In danger from you?” I asked. + +“Don't ask me more,” she said, “I hate myself for telling you even that. +Oh, it's terrible to have to do it. Go now. Don't ask me more. But I had +to warn you. But I can't do it myself.” I did not know what to make of +this; but I gathered that her task (whatever it was) from which she had +shrunk so bitterly in the Dutch town only the night before, was now to +be deputed to another, probably to the captain, perhaps to the Dartmouth +justices. I did not like the thought; but I thanked her for warning me, +it was generous of her to warn me. I took out the dagger with which she +had tried to stab me. “You said we were in opposite camps, Miss Carew,” + I said. “But I wouldn't like to keep this. I mean I wouldn't like to +think that we were enemies, really.” I daresay I said other foolish +things as well, at the same time. + +“Yes, keep it,” she said. “I couldn't bear to have it again. But be +warned. Don't trust me. While we're in opposite camps you be warned. For +I'm your enemy, then, when you least expect it.” + +Nothing much happened the next day until the evening, by which time +we were off the Isle of Wight. With the aid of the mate, I doctored +Aurelia's hand again; that was the only memorable event of the day. In +the evening, the captain (who had been moody from his drunkenness of +the night before) asked me to sing to him in the great cabin. I was +surprised at the request; but I knew a few ballads, so I sang them to +him. While I was singing, Aurelia entered the cabin; she sat down on +one of the lockers below the great window. She looked very white, in the +gloom there. She did not speak to me; but sat there restlessly, coughing +in a dry hacking way, as though one of her ribs had been broken in the +fall. I lowered my voice when I noticed this, as I was afraid that +my singing might annoy her; I thought that she was suffering from her +wound. The captain told me to pipe up; as he couldn't hear what my +words were. I asked Aurelia if my singing worried her; but instead of +answering she left the cabin for a few minutes. When she came back, she +sat with her face in her hand, seemingly in great pain. I sang all the +ballads known to me. When I had finished, the captain grunted a note of +approval. “Well,” he said, “so there's your ballads. That's your treat. +Now you shall have mine.” A little gong hung in the cabin. He banged +upon it to summon his boy, who came in trembling, as he always did, +expecting to be beaten before he went out. “Bring in a jug of cool +water,” he said. “Then fetch them limes I bought.” As the boy went +out, the captain turned to me with a grin. “Did you ever drink Turk's +sherbet?” he said. + +“No,” I answered. “I've never even heard of it. What is it?” + +“Why,” he said, “it's a drink the heathen Turks make out of citron. A +powder which fizzes. I got some of it last autumn when I made a voyage +to Scanderoon. It's been too cold ever since to want to drink any, as +it's a summer drink mostly. Now you shall have some.” He took down some +tumblers from the rack in which they stood. “Here's glasses,” he said. +“Now the sherbet is in this bottle here.” He produced a pint glass +bottle from one of the lockers. It was stopped with a wooden plug, +carved in the likeness of a Turk's head. It was about three parts full +of a whitish powder. A label on the side of the bottle gave directions +for its preparation. + +When the boy returned with his tray, the captain squeezed the juice of +half a lime into each of the three tumblers. “That's the first thing,” + he said. “Lime juice. Now the water.” He poured water into each glass, +till they were nearly full. “White of egg is said to make it better,” + he said to me. “But at sea I guess we must do without that. Now then. +You're the singer, so you drink first. Be ready to drink it while it +fizzes; for then it's at its best. Are you ready?” I was quite ready, so +the captain filled his spoon with the soft white powder. Glancing round +at Aurelia I saw that she had covered her eyes with her hand. “Won't +Miss Carew drink first?” I asked. + +“I don't want any,” she said in a low voice. Before I could speak +another word the captain had poured his heaped spoonful of powder into +my glass. “Stir it up, boy,” he cried. “Down with it while it fizzes.” + Aurelia rose to her feet, catching her breath sharply. + +I remember a pleasant taste, as though all of the fruits of the world +had been crushed together into a syrup; then a mist surged all about me, +the cabin became darker, the captain seemed to grow vast, till his body +filled the room. My legs melted from me. I was one little wavering +flame blowing about on great waves. Something was hard upon my head. +The captain's hand (I could feel) was lifting my eyelid. I heard him say +“That's got him.” Instantly a choir of voices began to chant “That's got +him,” in roaring, tumultuous bursts of music. Then the music became, as +it were, present, but inaudible; there were waves of sound all round me, +but my ears were deafened to them. I had been put out of action by some +very powerful drug, I remember no more of that evening's entertainment. +I was utterly unconscious. + +I came to, very sick, some time in the night. I was in the bunk in the +pantry; but far too helpless in my misery to rise, or to take an account +of time. I lay half-conscious till the morning, when I fell into a deep +sleep, which lasted, I may say, till the evening; for I did not feel +sufficiently awake to get up until about half-past five. When I did +get up, I felt so tottery that I could hardly keep my feet. Someone, I +supposed that it was Aurelia, had placed a metal brandy flask, with a +paper roll containing hard-boiled eggs, on my wash-hand-stand. I took a +gulp of the brandy. In the midst of my sickness I remember the shame of +it; the shame of being drugged by those two; for I knew that I had been +drugged; the shame of having given up like that, at the moment when I +had the cards in my hand; all the cards. I was locked into the +pantry; all my clothes were gone. I found myself dressed in a sailor's +serge-shirt. All my other property had vanished. I remember crying as +I shook at the door to open it; it was too strong for me, in my weak +state. As I wrestled with the door, I heard the dry rattling out of the +cable. We had come to anchor; we were in Dartmouth; perhaps in a few +minutes I should be going ashore. Looking through the port-hole, I saw +a great steep hill rising up from the water, with houses clinging to its +side, like barnacles on the side of a rock. I could see people walking +on the wharf. I could see a banner blowing out from a flagstaff. + +A few more gulps of brandy brought me to myself I was safe anyhow; +my cartridges had not been found. I dropped them one by one into the +metal-flask. Whatever happened, no one would look for them there. Then +I banged at the door again, trying to make people hear. Nobody paid +any attention to me; I might have spared myself the trouble. Long +afterwards, I learned that I was detained while Captain Barlow spoke to +a magistrate about me, asking if I might be “questioned,” that is, put +to the thumbscrews, till it could be learned whether I carried a verbal +message to my uncle, Mr. Blick. The magistrate to whom he first applied +was one of the Monmouth faction as it happened, so my thumbs escaped; +but I had a narrow escape later, as you shall hear. About an hour after +the ship came to anchor, the cabin-door was opened by a sailor, who +flung in an armful of clothes to me, without speaking a word. They were +mostly not my own clothes; the boots were not mine; my own boots, I +guessed, had been cut to pieces in the letter-hunt. All the clothes +which were mine had had the seams ripped up. All my cartridges had been +taken. About half of my money was gone. The only things untouched were +the weapons in the belt. I laughed to myself to think how little reward +they had had for all their baseness. They had stooped to the methods of +the lowest kind of thieves, yet they had failed. They had not found my +letters. My joy was not very real; I was too wretched for that. Looking +back at it all long after, I think that the hardest thing to bear was +Aurelia's share in the work. I had not thought that Aurelia would join +in tricking me in that way. But while I thought bitterly of her deceit, +I thought of her tears on the balcony in the Dutch city. After all, she +had been driven into it by that big bully of a man. I forgave her when I +thought of him; he was the cause of it all. A brute he must have been to +force her into such an action. Presently the mate came down with orders +to me to leave the ship at once. I asked him for my own clothes; but he +told me sharply to be thankful for what I had, since I'd done no work +to earn them; by work he meant the brainless manual work done by people +like himself. So going on deck I called a boatman, who for twopence put +me ashore on the Kingswear side of the river. He gave me full directions +for finding Mr. Blick's house, telling me that in another five minutes I +should come to it, if I followed my nose. As I started from the +landing place I looked back at the barquentine, where I had had so +many adventures. She was lying at anchor at a little distance from the +Dartmouth landing place, making a fair show, under her flag, in spite of +her jury foretopmast. As I looked, the boatman jogged my elbow, pointing +across the river to the strip of road which edges the stream. “A young +lady waving to you,” he said. Sure enough a lady was waving to me. I +supposed that it was Aurelia, asking pardon, trying to show me that we +parted friends. I would not wave at first; I was surly; but after +about a minute I waved my hat to her. Then I set off up the road to Mr. +Blick's. Ten minutes later, I was in Mr. Blick's house, telling him all +that I have now told you. + +Mr. Blick kept me in his house for a day or two less than four weeks, +when business took him to Exeter. I went with him; for he gave out that +he was taking me to school there, as his dead sister had wished. His +real reason was to pass the word through the country that King Monmouth +was coming. He was one of the few men in full knowledge of the Duke's +plans; but as we went about from town to town, spreading the word among +the faithful, I saw that the Duke was expected by vast numbers of the +country folk. Our clients were not much among the gentry; they hung by +themselves, as, in this country, they always will, in times of popular +stir. But among the poorer people, such as small farmers, or common +labouring men, we were looked for as men sent from on high. At more than +one little quiet village, when we went into the inn-parlour, we saw the +men looking at us, half frightened, half expectant, as though we, being +strangers, must needs have news of the King for whom they longed. Often +some publican or maltster would tell us that Gyle (their name for the +unfortunate Argyle, then a defeated man in Scotland, if not already put +to death for his rebellion) was taken, looking at us carefully as he +spoke, for fear lest we should be of the wrong side. Then, if we seemed +sympathetic, he would tell us how perhaps another would have better luck +elsewhere. After that, we would tell our news. It was dangerous work, +though, carrying that message across the country. In many of the towns +we found guards of the Devon red regiment of militia. I am quite sure +that if Mr. Blick had not had me by his side, as an excellent excuse +for travelling to Exeter, he would have been lodged in gaol as a +suspicious character. The soldiers had arrested many travellers already; +the gaols were full. King James's great man in those parts, the Earl of +Albemarle, knew very well that something was in the air; but as he was a +great lord the hearts of the poor were hidden from him. He had no +guess of what was planning. In a way, the Duke's affairs were very well +planned. The eastern end of Devon, all Somerset, with the western end of +Dorset, were all ripe to rise, directly he appeared. They knew that he +was coming; they were prepared to join him; they knew at about what time +he would come, at about a fortnight from hay-harvest. Already, quite +unknown to the authorities, we had men picked out to carry the news +of the landing to different parts of the country. So far, I think, the +Duke's affairs were well planned. But though we had all this enthusiasm +in three counties, besides promises of similar risings in London, we +were in no real case to take the field. Our adherents, however numerous, +however brave, were only a mob, when all is said; they were not an army. +The Duke thought that the regular army, or at least some regiments of +it, would desert to him, as happened some years later, when the great +Prince William did what my master attempted. But my master forgot that +he had neither the arms nor the officers to make his faction a likely +body for regular troops to join. + + + +CHAPTER XV. THE ROAD TO LYME + +We spread the tidings as far as Exeter, where Mr. Blick made some +pretence of handing me over to a schoolmaster, one Hubble, a red-faced, +cheery clergyman, one of the most ardent rebels on our side. Indeed, the +clergymen everywhere supported us, as defenders of the Protestant faith, +which that dastard James would have destroyed. Mr. Hubble made some +excuse for not taking me in at the instant; but gave us letters of +introduction to people in towns further on, so that we could pass the +militia without difficulty, to give the news in western Dorset. So after +waiting for a little while in Exeter, gathering all the news we could of +the whereabouts of the troops of militia, we pushed on eastward, by way +of Sidmouth, to the big town of Dorchester. As we came east, we found +the militia very much more suspicious than they had been on the western +side of Exeter. At every little town we found a strong guard so placed +that no one could enter without passing under the captain's eye. We were +brought before militia captains some two or three times a day. Sometimes +we were searched; sometimes, if the captain happened to be drunk, we +were bullied with threats of the gaol. Mr. Blick in these cases always +insisted on being brought before the magistrate, to whom he would tell +a fine indignant tale, saying what a shame it was that he could not +take his orphan nephew peaceably to school, without being suspected of +complicity in a rebellion. He would then show Mr. Hubble's letters, +or some other papers signed by the Dartmouth magistrates. These always +cleared our characters, so that we were allowed to proceed; but I did +not like the way in which our descriptions were taken. Once on our +journey, shortly after we had left Sidmouth, where the soldiers had been +very suspicious, we turned out of the highway to leave word at a town +called Seaton. We spread the watchword at several villages near the +sea, before we came to Seaton, so that we were rather late in arriving. +Thinking no wrong, we put up at one of the inns in Seaton, intending to +pass the night there. We were at supper in our inn, when some yeomanry +rode up to the door, to ask the landlord if an elderly man had passed +that way with a boy. The landlord, who was a good deal scared by the +soldiers, showed the captain in to us at once. We were quite as much +scared to see him as the landlord had been. The captain of the soldiers +was the very man who had given us such a searching examination in +Sidmouth that morning. + +“Well,” he said to Mr. Blick, “I thought you were going to Dorchester. +What brings you here?” “Sir,” said Mr. Blick, “we've been so much +interrupted by soldiers that we hoped to travel away from the +main-roads.” + +“Well, sir,” said the captain, “I've had you watched. Since you left +Sidmouth, you've been into every inn upon the road, listening to a lot +of seditious talk about Argyle. That's not my point, though. You gave +out to me that you were going to Dorchester. Instead of that you slink +off the Dorchester road at the first opportunity. You will have to +explain yourself to my superiors. You're under arrest.” + +“Sir,” said Mr. Blick, “I am sorry that you should think ill of me. We +will gladly come with you to answer for our conduct to the authorities. +But while the horses are being saddled, perhaps you will join us at +supper. Landlord, bring a couple of bottles more. The captain sups with +us.” + +But though the captain drank his couple of bottles of port, he did not +become any gentler with us. As soon as supper was over we had to ride on +again, with the troopers all round us. + +“Sir,” said Mr. Blick, “may I ask you where we are going with you?” + +“Axminster,” said the captain. + +“Well. That's on my way,” said Mr. Blick. + +“It'll probably end your way, for some time,” said the captain. + +“I'm perfectly willing to abide by the decision of the authorities,” Mr. +Blick answered calmly. “But what is the meaning of all these soldiers +everywhere? I've asked the people; but nobody seems able to give a +straight answer.” + +“I think you know what the soldiers mean well enough,” answered the +captain. “If you hadn't known you wouldn't have turned out of the +highway.” + +At about midnight we reached Axminster. We were taken before a couple +of officers who sat at work by candlelight over a mass of papers, in +an upper chamber of an inn. They had a wild air of having been without +sleep for some time. Their muddy riding boots were drying in front of +the fire. They had a map of the countryside before them, all stuck about +with little flags, some red, some yellow, to show where the different +troops of militia were stationed. After saluting these officers, +the captain made his report about us, saying that we were suspicious +persons, who had started from Sialmouth, towards Dorchester. He had +waited to receive word from the troops stationed along the highway of +our arrival at various points upon the road; but, failing to hear about +us, he had searched for us, with the result that he had found us at +Seaton, some miles out of our way. The officers questioned us closely +about our plans, making notes of what we said. They kept referring to a +book of letters, as though to verify what we said. Mr. Blick's answers +made them take a favourable view of us; but they told him in a friendly +way that the officer had done right to arrest us. They complimented +the captain on his zeal. Meanwhile, they said, since we were going to +Dorchester, we could not object to going with a military escort. A troop +of cavalry was to start in a couple of hours; we could go with that. + +We were in Dorchester for a few days, always under the eye of the +soldiers. It was a bustling, suspicious time full of false alarms. Mr. +Blick told me that the message “King Golden Cap. After six one,” meant +that the Duke was to be expected off Golden Cap, a cliff a few miles +from Lyme Regis, any day after the first of the sixth month. He was +on tenter-hooks to be in Lyme to greet him on his arrival; but this he +could not hope to do. We were watched too carefully to be able to get +away to a place upon the sea-coast. We had to be very careful how we +sent our secret message abroad into the country. I have never known a +time so full of alarms. People would ride in to the town at night with +word that Monmouth was landed, or that there was fighting all along the +coast, or that King James was dead. The drums would beat; the cavalry +would come out clattering. People would be crying out. The loyal would +come to their doorsteps ready to fly further inland. Every night, if +one lay awake, one could hear the noise of spades in back gardens where +misers were burying their money. Then, every day, one would see the +troopers coming in, generally two at a time, with a suspected man led by +a cord knotted to his two thumbs. Dorchester gaol was full of suspected +people, who were kept in prison indefinitely, without trial, in very +great discomfort. King James was afraid, he did not really know of what, +so he took measures not so much to prevent trouble as to avenge his own +fear. Mr. Blick used to send me to the prison every morning with loaves +of fresh bread for the prisoners. + +At last, after midnight, in the night of the 11th of June, a memorable +day for the West, riders came in with news which destroyed the night's +rest of the town. Monmouth had landed at Lyme the evening before, after +sailing about in sight of the town all day. That was news indeed. It +made a strange uproar in the streets. The trumpets blew from every +inn-door to summons the billeted soldiers. Officers ran about bawling +for their sergeants; the sergeants hurried about with lanterns, rousing +the men from where they slept. All the streets were full of cavalry men +trying to form in the crowd. At last, when they were formed, a trumpet +sounded, making everyone keep silence. Then in the stillness an officer +shouted out an order, which no one, save a soldier, could understand. +Instantly the kettle-drums began to pound; the swords jingled; the +horses whinnied, tossing up their heads. The soldiers trotted off +smartly towards Bridport, leaving the town strangely quiet, strangely +scared, to discuss the great news from Lyme. + +I was watching the crowd at my bed-room window when the horsemen trotted +off. While I stood looking at them, Mr. Blick ran upstairs, bidding me +to come down at once, as now there was a chance to get to Lyme. “Come +quick,” he said. “The troops are gone. We must follow on their tracks. +It'll be too late later in the morning.” In less than twenty minutes we +were trotting after the soldiers at a good pace, passing some scores +of men on foot who were hurrying, as they said, to see the battle. Mr. +Blick wore a sword which clattered as he rode. The people hearing the +noise thought that he was an officer, perhaps a colonel, riding with his +servant. Many of the men asked him where the battle was to be, whether +it would begin before daylight, whether Monmouth was come with the +French, all sorts of questions, to which we answered at random. In the +light summer night we had a fair view of things. When we dismounted to +lead our horses up or down the steep hills of that road, the straggling +sight-seers came all round us as we walked, to hear what we had to tell. +We could see their faces all about us, strange in the dusk, like ghosts, +not like real men. At the top of one hill, Mr. Blick warned them to look +out for themselves. He told them that before morning the highway would +be patrolled by troops who would take them in charge as suspicious +characters trying to join Monmouth, which actually happened the next day +when the militia officers realized that war had begun. His words scared +off a number of them; but many kept on as they were going, to see the +great battle, which, they said, would begin as soon as it was light. + +When the sun began to peep, we turned off the highway in order to avoid +Bridport, which we passed a little after dawn. A few miles further on +we felt that we could turn into the road again as we were safe from +the militia at that distance. Then, feeling happy at the thought of +the coming contest, which, we felt sure, would be won by our side, +we pressed our tired nags over the brook towards the steep hill which +separates Charmouth from Lyme. + +It was early morning, about five o'clock, when we came to Charmouth; +but the little town was as busy as though it were noon on fair-day. The +street was crowded. People were coming in from all the countryside. A +man was haranguing the crowd from a horseless waggon drawn up at an inn. +The horses had no doubt been pressed into Monmouth's service some hours +before. I should think that there must have been three hundred people +listening to the orator. Men, already half drunk, with green boughs in +their hats, were marching about the town in uneven companies, armed +with clubs torn from the hedges. Weeping women followed them, trying to +persuade their sons or husbands to come home. Other men were bringing +out horses from private stables. People were singing. One man, leaning +out of a window, kept on firing his pistol as fast as he could load. +Waving men cheered from the hill above. The men in the town cheered +back. There was a great deal of noisy joking everywhere. They cheered us +as we rode through them, telling us that Monmouth had arms for all. One +poor woman begged Mr. Blick to tell her man to come home, as without him +the children would all starve. The crowd groaned at her; but Mr. Blick +stopped them, calling the husband, who was in a sad state of drunken +vainglory, to leave the ranks in which he tried to march. “We don't want +fathers of families,” he cried. “We want these tight young bachelors. +They're the boys.” Indeed, the tight young bachelors felt that this was +the case, so the woman got her man again; lucky she was to get him. As +far as I could judge, the crowd imagined us to be great officers; at +any rate our coming drew away the listeners from the waggon. They came +flocking to our heels as though we were the Duke himself. A drummer beat +up a quickstep; the crowd surged forward. We marched across the fields +to Lyme, five hundred strong. One of the men, plucking a sprig of +hawthorn from the hedge, asked me to wear it in my hat as the Duke's +badge, which I did. He called me “Captain.” “Captain,” he said. “We had +a brush with them already, this morning, along the road here. Two on 'em +were killed. They didn't stay for no more.” So fighting had begun then, +the civil war had taken its first fruits of life. There could be no more +shillyshallying; we had put our hands to a big business. In spite of +the noise of the march, my spirits were rather dashed by the thought +of those two men, lying dead somewhere on the road behind us, killed by +their own countrymen. + +We are said to be a sober people; but none of those who saw Lyme that +morning would have had much opinion of our sobriety. Charmouth had been +disorderly; Lyme was uproarious. Outside the town, in one of the fields +above the church, we were stopped by a guard of men who all wore white +scarves on their arms, as well as green sprays in their hats. They +stopped us, apparently, because their captain wished to exercise them +in military customs. They were evidently raw to the use of arms. They +handled their muskets like spades. “Be you for Monmouth, masters?” they +asked us, grinning. When we said that we were, this very unmilitary +guard told us to pass on. “Her've got arms for all,” they said. “The +word be 'Fear nothing but God.'” Some of them joked with friends among +our party. They waved their muskets to us. + + + +CHAPTER XVI. THE LANDING + +Inside the town, there was great confusion. Riotous men were foraging, +that is, plundering from private houses, pretending that they did so at +the Duke's orders. The streets were full of people, nearly all of them +men, the green boughs in their hats. On the beach two long lines of +men with green scarves on their arms were being drilled by an officer. +Horses were picketed in a long line up the main street; they were +mostly very poor cart-stock, ill-provided, as I learned afterwards, +with harness. Men were bringing hay to them from whatever haystack was +nearest. From time to time, there came a loud booming of guns, above +the ringing of the church bells. Three ships in the bay, one of them +La Reina, were firing salutes as they hoisted their colours. It was all +like a very noisy fair or coronation day. It had little appearance of an +armed invasion. We found the Duke busy with Mr. Jermyn enlisting men in +a field above the town. + +“That's not Mr. Jermyn. That's Lord Grey,” Mr. Blick said, on hearing me +exclaim. “Mr. Jermyn's only the name he goes by. He's my Lord now, you +must remember.” + +Just then the Duke caught sight of us riding up. He took us for local +gentry, coming in to volunteer. He came smiling to welcome us. It must +have been a shrewd disappointment to him to find that we were not what +he thought. All his hopes were in the gentry, poor man. By the time we +were on our feet with our hats off he had turned his back upon us +as though to speak to Lord Grey, but really, I believe, to hide his +chagrin. When he turned to us again both of them welcomed us, saying +that there was work enough for all, in enlisting men, making out +billets, etc. So without more ado we gave our horses to the ostlers at +an inn. Mr. Blick at once began to blarney the standers-by into joining, +while I, sitting at a little table, in the open air, wrote out copies of +a letter addressed to the local gentry. My copies were carried from Lyme +by messengers that afternoon but, alas for my master, they did not bring +many gentry to us. + +Now while I was writing at the table, under the great flapping standard, +with the Duke, in his purple coat, walking about in front of me, I had a +pretty full view of the crowd which ringed us in. We were circled about +by a crowd of gaping admirers; from whom, every minute, Mr. Blick, or +the Duke, or Lord Grey, would select a sheepish grinning man to serve +under our colours. Among the crowd I noticed a little old lame man with +a long white beard. He was a puppet-man, who was making the people laugh +by dancing his puppets almost under the Duke's nose. As he jerked the +puppet-strings, he played continually on his pan-pipes the ribald tune +of “Hey, boys, up go we,” then very popular. The Duke spoke to him once; +but he did not answer, only bowed very low, with his hat off, which made +the people think him an idiot or a jester. They laughed heartily at him. +After a bit, it occurred to me that this old puppet-shaker always crept +into the ring (with his hat off to receive alms) whenever the Duke spoke +aside to Lord Grey, or to some other officer. I watched him narrowly to +make sure, because something in his manner made me suspect that he was +trying to catch what our leaders said to each other. I tried to recall +where I had seen the old man; for I had seen him before. He had been at +Exeter on the day we set out for Sidmouth, so much I remembered clearly; +but looking at him carefully, with my head full of memories of faces, +it seemed to me that he had been at Dorchester also. Surely an old man, +lame in the left leg like this man, had gone down a narrow lane in +front of me in Dorchester. I had not thought of it in Dorchester; but I +thought of it now, with a feeling that it was strange to meet again thus +in Lyme. I took good stock of the man, wondering if he were a spy. +He was a dirty old man enough. His dirty fingers poked through ragged +mittens. His cheeks were all swathed up in a woollen comforter. I made +the mistake of looking at him so hard that I made him look at me. Seeing +that I was staring at him, with a face full of suspicion, he walked +boldly up to me, holding out his hat for my charity. We stared at +each other, while he blew a blast on his pan-pipes, at which everybody +laughed. + +“Come, come, boy,” said Lord Grey to me, “we want those letters done. +Never mind about the puppets. Here, old man” (giving him a penny), “you +take yourself off now. Or are you going to enlist?” + +The people laughed again at this, while the old man, after a flourish of +his hat to me, piped up lively quickstep, called “Jockeys to the Fair.” + +He disappeared after this. I did not see him again until our troubles +began, later in the morning. I was finishing off the last of my letters, +when some of our scouts rode in to make a grave report to the Duke. They +had ridden in pretty hard, their horses were lathered all over. They +themselves were in an internal lather; for they had just had their first +sight of war. They had come into touch (so they declared) with the +whole of Albemarle's militia, marching out to attack them. On being +questioned, it turned out that they had heard this from an excited +labourer who had run to them with the news, as they stood guard in +a roadside field a few miles out of Lyme. They themselves had seen +nothing, but the news seemed so probable that the Duke acted on it. He +sent me off at once with a message to a clever, handsome gentleman who +was in charge of the cavalry in the street. It was in giving the message +that I saw the old man again. He was them limping up the street on the +Sidmouth road, going fast, in spite of his lameness. I gave my message +to the captain, who commanded his trumpeter to call to arms. The +trumpeter blew nobly; but the sight of the confusion afterwards showed +me how little raw troops can be trusted. There was a hasty scramble for +horses rather than a setting forth. Some men quarreled over weapons; +others wrestled with harness; others ran about wildly, asking what was +happening, was it to be a battle, what did blowing on the trumpet mean? +Some few, thinking the worst, got wisdom in those few moments. They took +horses from the ranks, but instead of forming up with the regiments, +they galloped off home, having had enough of soldiering at the first +order. The foot behaved rather better, knowing, perhaps, that if they +fought they would be behind hedges, in some sort of shelter. Even so, +they seemed a raw lot of clumsy bumpkins as they marched up. Many of +them were in ploughmen's smock-frocks; hardly any of them had any +sense of handling their guns. They had drums with them, which beat up +a quickstep, giving each man of them a high sense of his importance, +especially if he had been drinking. People in the roadway cheered them, +until they heard that there was to be a battle. Those who were coming in +to join us found it a reason for hesitation. + +After a lot of confusion, the army drew out of Lyme along the Sidmouth +road, followed by a host of sightseers. Some of the best mounted rode +on ahead at a trot, under the handsome man, Mr. Fletcher, who was their +captain. I followed on with the foot-soldiers, who marched extremely +slowly. They halted at their own discretion; nor did they seem to +understand that orders given were to be obeyed. What they liked, poor +fellows, was to see the women admiring them. The march up the hill +out of Lyme was a long exhibition of vanity, the women waving their +handkerchiefs, the men putting on all sorts of airs, jetting like +gamecocks. When we got up to the top of the hill, I saw the old lame +puppet-man, sitting on the edge of the wild, unenclosed, gorse-covered +common-land which stretches away towards the town of Axminster. He was +watching us with deep interest. Our men were spreading out into line +upon this common. The horse was ranging on, bobbing about, far ahead. +The foot were looking about eagerly as they got out of the ranks in +which they had marched; but they could see no trace of any enemy. +I caught sight of the Duke four hundred yards away, a little figure +sitting alone on his horse, in front of half a dozen others. They were +all scanning the country, all the way round. Presently I called out that +I saw the enemy. Half a dozen cavalry were riding up a combe far off. +But they were our own men, not the militia. They were some of our scouts +riding off as “feelers” to spy out Albemarle's position. All the time +that we were up there on the hill, the little old man portered about +among the men, now listening to what they had to say, now asking the +soldiers to look at his pretty puppets. When the returning scouts +brought word that no troops were near us, so that we were free to march +back again, he was still there, packing up his puppets in tarred canvas, +as though about to march off to the next market-town. We marched past +him, as he sat in the heather. I passed quite close to him, staring at +him hard, for to tell the truth he was on my mind. I was suspicious of +him. He took off his hat to me, with a smile; but he did not speak. Then +my troops swung round, down the hill, leaving him alone there, watching +the men pass. + +Other things put him out of my mind during the afternoon. I was kept +busy writing orders to scouts; for we were sending out scouts in every +direction, partly to protect us from surprise, partly to direct new +recruits to our headquarters. Mr. Blick, who knew the ground dictated +the letters, helped by Mr. Fletcher, who studied a big map with great +attention; I was writing all that afternoon. Lyme grew noisier during +the day, as the recruits became more drunk. Many steady men turned away +from us when they saw our disorder. I myself had been brought up to +abhor drunkenness. I found the state of drunken uproar very terrible. I +feared that such an army would never achieve any great deed. I thought +that such sin would be punished. Our soldiers were not behaving like +knights sworn to a good cause; but like boors at a fair. That day we +lost our only good officer, Mr. Fletcher. + +I have spoken of this gentleman. He was in command of the horse under +Lord Grey. He was a much better soldier than my Lord; a better officer, +too; a better man. Now in the day's confusion, with everything topsy +turvy, the Duke's messenger, “Old Dare,” rode into Lyme from Taunton, +where he had galloped the day before to spread the news of our arrival. +This Dare was a quick-tempered, not very clever, popular man with a +great deal of influence in the countryside. On his way back to us from +Taunton, someone lent, or gave, him a very fine horse. It may have been +meant as a gift to the Duke; I do not know. Anyhow Old Dare rode in on +this horse with letters from Taunton, which he handed to Mr. Fletcher to +give to the Duke. Fletcher, our cavalry commander, had as yet no horse; +so seeing the splendid charger on which Old Dare rode, he ordered Old +Dare to give it up to him. He was the real commander of the army, with +a military right, if no real right, to take what horse he liked from +any subordinate officer. But Old Dare, like so many of our men, had no +knowledge of what soldier's discipline meant. He saw, in Fletcher, a +gentleman with whom he had lived as an equal for the last fortnight. He +was not going to give up his horse like that; not he. Fletcher (speaking +sharply) told him to obey without further words, at which Dare in a +sudden flush of temper struck him with his riding switch. Fletcher +was not a patient man. He could not let an act of gross mutiny pass +unpunished, nor would he suffer an insult. He shot Dare dead upon +the spot, in full view of some hundreds of us. It was all done in an +instant. There was Dare lying dead, never to stir again. There was +Fletcher, our only soldier, with a smoking pistol in his hand, thinking +that he had taught the army a lesson in obedience. There was the +army all about him, flocking round in a swarm, not looking at it as a +military punishment but as a savage murder, for which he deserved to be +hanged. Then the Duke hastened up to make things quiet, before the army +avenged their friend. He drew Fletcher aside, though the people murmured +at him for speaking to a murderer. He was unnerved by Fletcher's act. He +had no great vitality. Sudden crises such as this unnerved him, by +using up his forces. A crisis of this kind (a small thing in a great +rebellion) was often enough to keep his brain from considering other, +more important, more burning questions concerning the entire army. The +end of this business was as unhappy as its beginning. Fletcher, our only +soldier, was sent aboard the frigate in which the Duke had sailed from +Holland. When the tide served, she set sail with him for Corunna in +Spain. With him she carried all our hopes of success, together with a +quantity of stores which would have been of use later in the expedition. +As I left the Cobb, or pier, which makes Lyme harbour, I saw the little +lame puppet-man turning away from the beach with a company of men who +wore our green boughs. For a few steps I hurried towards him, so that I +might overhear what he was saying; I made so sure that he was a spy. Mr. +Blick, to whom I told my fears, bade me not to worry myself. “Why, boy,” + he said, “there are five hundred spies in Lyme; but they can't hurt us. +Before they can get off to tell our enemies all about us there won't +be any enemies left. We shall be marching at once. We shall drive +everything before us.” He spoke with such confidence that I believed +him; yet the old man troubled me, for all that. When you see a face +continually, at a time when you are excited, you connect the face with +your excitement; it troubles your nerves. + +The day wore by with all the unreality of a day of confusion. I was kept +at work until the light was gone; then served at the Duke's table while +he supped, then snatched a hurried supper while he talked with his +officers. After supper, I had to go from billet to billet, looking for +people whom the officers wished to see. Something very important was in +the air. The discussion in the inn's great room was the first serious +council of the war. About eleven o'clock, Lord Grey came out of the +room, telling me to follow him. We went out into the street, where +presently our men began to fall in, four or five abreast, about a +hundred ranks of them. A few cavalry came, too, but not enough, I heard +Lord Grey say, not enough to do any good with. In spite of all the +efforts of those who loved us (by efforts I mean the robbing of +farm-stables) we were very short of horses. Those which we had were not +good; they were cart, not saddle-horses, unused to the noise of guns. +Still, such as they were, they formed up in the street ahead of the +foot. The force took a long time to form; for the men kept saying that +they had forgotten something, their powder-horn, their cartridges, their +guns, even. Then they had to run back to their billets to fetch whatever +it was, while those who remained behind, puzzled at the movement so late +at night, when they wished to sleep, began to get nervous. They began to +ask where it was that we were going, was it to Axminster, or to Bridport. + + + +CHAPTER XVII. A VOICE AT DAWN + +Word was passed about that we were going to surprise the militia at +Bridport at dawn. We were told to keep quiet on the march, after passing +Charmouth, as the night was so still that we should be heard far off. We +did not know how near the Bridport outposts might come to us under cover +of the night. “You come with us, Martin,” said Lord Grey: “Take a horse. +If we win Bridport you'll have to gallop back with the news.” I was +made a little nervous by the thought of going into battle so soon; but +gulping down my fears I mounted a marsh-mare which stood near the inn +door. I hoped sincerely that no militia bullet would find any part of +either of us. Then the drums began to play us out of the town with their +morning roll. A fife whined out, going down to our marrows with its +shrillness. Lights showed at the windows. We saw dark heads framed in +yellow patches. People called to us. In the door of the great inn stood +Monmouth; his face seemed very white in the glare of the torches. He +raised his hand to us as we passed him. The last thing I noticed of the +town, for I rode in the rear with Lord Grey, were the ranks passing the +lamp on the town hall. They came up to it in waves, their cloaks showing +in glimmer for an instant. Then they passed on into the night, sliding +forwards slowly with a steady roll, like the moving of waves to the +shore. + +We were a long time riding; so long that the dawn was on us by the time +we were within shot of the enemy. I don't remember very much about the +ride, except that it was unreal, very unreal; for the mists came down, +blotting the world from us, so that we rode in a swirl of cold grey, +amid a noise of dropping. When we got to the top of the long hill after +Chideock I was bidden halt at a cross-roads, with a waggon full of +ammunition, while the force moved on to the attack. The hills were +showing up clearly above the mist; but the valley lay like a sea, a +great grey formless level, like some world of the ghosts. The troops +passed down in it, moving pretty briskly, lest the mist should lift +before they were in position. Most of them knew the country, so that +they could well walk confidently; but their quickness had something +nervous in it, as though they were ill at ease. Very soon they were out +of sight, out of hearing, swallowed up in the fog. + +I waited a long time (as it seemed) up there at the cross-roads. After a +long wait I rode a little down the hill, from sheer anxiety. I pulled +up in a bank of cloud, through which I could see dimly, in the growing +light, for about a dozen yards. I was leaning well forward, listening +for the sound of shooting, when something made me look down. Someone +was standing at my side, slipping something into my pocket. It gave me a +start. I clutched at the person. It was the old lame puppet-man who +had been at Lyme the day before. “Latter for ee,” he said in a whisper. +“Read en, unless you'm a fool.” His hand pressed lightly on my bridle +hand for an instant; then he ducked sideways swiftly into the wilderness +of ferny gorse at the side of the road, where I could not hope to +follow him, even if the mist had not hidden him. Something in the voice, +something in the lightness of the touch startled me into the knowledge. +As he ducked, it came over me that this old man was Aurelia disguised, +come to spy upon us, but bent, also, on giving me a warning, some little +kind word of advice, at the beginning of my lord's war. I ought to have +recognized her before. I had been blind. She had been under my eyes the +whole day, yet I had never once suspected, no one, of all that army, had +suspected. She had been disguised by a master-hand. She had played her +part like a great actress. It was terrible to think of the risk she was +running. One man's suspicion, in a time of war, would have been enough +to give her to a horrible death. I tried to follow her into the jungle +into which she had vanished; but my horse would not face the furze. I +tried hard to see her, but it was no use; the tangle was too thick; she +had gone. I called out to her softly; but I got no answer; only, at some +little distance away, I heard a twig snap under a passer's foot. + +In a momentary clearing of the mist, I pulled out my letter. It was +written in a fine, firm hand, with signature. It was a short, purposeful +letter, which kept sharply to the point. It only contained two lines. +“Your Duke's cause is hopeless. He has no possible chance. Take the +Axminster road to safety.” That was the whole letter. It gave me a +feeling of uneasiness; but it did not tempt me to desert. I thought that +if I deserted I might very well be tortured into betraying all that I +knew of the Duke's plans, while I doubted very much whether the Duke's +body-servant would find mercy from the merciless, frightened King. What +was I to do, even if I escaped from the King's party? I was too young +for any employment worthy of my station in life. I had neither the +strength nor the skill for manual labour. Who would employ a boy of my +age on a farm or in a factory? All that I could hope would be to get +away to sea, to a life which I had already found loathsome. As to going +back to my uncle's house, I doubt if I would have gone, even had I had +the certainty of getting to it safely. When a boy has once taken to an +adventurous life, nothing but very ill health will drive him back to +home-life. Yet there was the thought of Aurelia. Somehow the thought +of her was a stronger temptation than any fear of defeat. I would have +liked to have seen that old enemy of mine again. + +I was thinking over the letter, wondering what would come to the Duke's +cause, when the valley below me began to ring with firing. A heavy +fire had begun there. It thundered in a long roll, which died down, +momentarily, into single sputterings through which one could hear +shouting. About twenty minutes after the beginning of the shots, when +all the party on the hill-top were edging nearer to the battle, taking +a few steps at a time, on tenter-hooks to be engaged, we heard a great +gallop of horses' hoofs coming to us at full tilt. At first we +were scared by this, for the noise was tremendous, too great, we +inexperienced soldiers thought, to be caused by our little troop of +cavalry. We thought that it was the Bridport militia charging down on +us, after destroying our friends. The mist by this time was all blowing +clear, though wisps of it clung along the hedgerows in unreal rolling +folds. The day above was breaking in the sultry blue summer dimness. We +could see, I suppose, for a quarter of a mile, straight down the road. + +We had swung round, facing towards Lyme, when the noise of the hoofs +first came to us. When the turn of the road showed us a squad of cavalry +coming to us at the charge, led by half a dozen riderless horses, we +waited for no more. We spurred up our nags in a panic, till we, too, +were going full tilt for Lyme, shouting out as we went any nonsense +which came to our heads. We were in a panic fear; I believe that the +horses in some way felt it too. We galloped back to Chideock as though +we were chased by witches, while the gun-firing at Bridport steadily +grew less, till at last it stopped altogether. At Chideock, some of the +cavalry came up with us. They were our own men, our own troop of horse, +not an enemy after all. The riderless horses were a few of the militia +charges which had been seized from a cavalry outpost to the west of the +town. We had bolted from our own crazy terror. But we were not the only +fleers. Our cavalry had bolted first, at the first volley outside the +town. It is unjust to say that they were afraid. Lord Grey was not a +coward; our men had stout hearts enough; but they had not reckoned +on the horses. The first discharge of guns scared the horses almost +frantic. They swung about out of action in a couple of seconds. Another +volley made them all bolt. It was when they were bolting that the men +began to grow alarmed. Fear is a contagious thing; it seems to pass +from spirit to spirit, like a flame along a powder train, till perhaps +a whole army feels it. Our horsemen pulled up among us in Chideock in +as bad a scare as you ever saw; it was twenty minutes before they dared +walk back to find out what had happened to the foot at Bridport, after +their retreat. + +Our foot came back very angry with the horse. They had fired away a lot +of powder to very little purpose, before orders reached them, bidding +them retire. They had not wished to retire; but at last they had done +so sullenly, vowing to duck Lord Grey for deserting them. We had +taken about a dozen horses without harness, instead of the two hundred +equipped chargers which we had promised ourselves. + +We had killed a few of the militia, so everybody said; but in the +confusion of the powder-smoke who could say how many? They were certain +that none of our own men had been killed; but in a force so newly +raised, who could say for certain which were our own men? As a matter +of fact several of our men had been taken by the royalists, which is as +much as to say that they had been killed. Altogether the affair had +been a hopeless failure from the very beginning. The foot had learned to +despise the horse. The horses had learned to be afraid of gun-fire. The +cavalrymen had learned to despise Lord Grey. The militia had learned to +despise us. The only valuable lesson that our men had learned was that +a battle was not so terrible a thing. You knelt down, fired your gun, +shouted, borrowed your neighbour's drinking bottle, took a long swig, +then fired again, with more shouting, till somebody clapped you on the +shoulder with orders to come away. But this lesson, precious as it was +did not console our men for their beating. They were cross with the long +night-march as well as with Lord Grey's desertion. We dragged our +way back to Lyme very slowly, losing a good fifty of our number by +desertion. They slipped away home, after falling out of the ranks to +rest. They had had enough of fighting for the Duke; they were off home. +The officers were strict at first, trying to stop these desertions; but +the temper of the men was so bad that at last they gave it up, hoping +that some at least would stay. That was another evil consequence of +fighting for the crown with an undisciplined mob; they could sustain +defeat as ill as they could use victory. We did not trail into Lyme +until after noon; for we marched like snails, fearing that the militia +would follow us. When we got into camp, the men flung their arms from +them, careless of the officer's orders. All that they wanted was sleep +(we had eaten a late breakfast at Charmouth), they were not going to +do any more soldier's foolery of drill, or sentry-go. As for Lord Grey, +whom everybody called a coward, the Duke could not cashier him, because +he was the best officer remaining to us. Poor Fletcher, who might have +made something of our cavalry, was by this time far away at sea. The +other officers had shown their incapacity that morning. For my own part, +I chose out a snug billet on a hearthrug in the George Inn, where I +slept very soundly for several hours. While I slept, the Duke held a +melancholy council to debate what could be done. + +They say that he ought to have marched that morning to Exeter, where +Lord Albemarle's militia (all of them ripe for rebellion) would have +joined him. + +Exeter or Bristol, one or the other, would have been a fine plume in +his cap, a strong, fortified town, full of arms, where he could have +established himself firmly. I do not know why he decided against +marching to Exeter. He may have had bad reports of troops being on the +road waiting for him; or he may have thought that his friends (who +were plentiful on the Bristol road) would rally to him as soon as he +appeared. He was deceived by those protesting gentry, his friends, who +had welcomed him so warmly only a few months before. He thought that all +the countryside was ready to join him. He had been deceived, as perhaps +a cleverer man would have been deceived, by the warmth of his welcome +on his earlier visit. An Englishman is always polite to a Duke when he +meets him in a friendly gathering. But when the Duke says, “Lend me all +your ready money, together with your horses, or rather give them to me, +since I am the King,” his politeness leaves him; he gets away to London +to warn the police as fast as his horse will take him. Thus it was with +the Duke's friends scattered about along the main-road from Lyme to +Bristol. + +I know not who persuaded the Duke to march; probably it was Grey; it may +have been Venner; it may have been a momentary mad resolution caused +by a glass of wine. They say that he was solemn about it, as though he +expected to fail. Perhaps he would have gone back to Holland if the ship +had been still in the harbour, but of course she had gone away. He would +not go in La Reina; for she was sluggish from barnacles, having been +long un-careened. The Channel at this time was full of ships looking for +him; how he escaped them when he sailed from Holland I cannot think. He +hesitated for a long time, poor man, before deciding; no man could have +acted more like a Stuart, at such a time. When the decision was made he +gave word to start early on the following morning. But this I did not +know till one A.M, when Lord Grey routed me out from my berth on the +hearth-rug, so that I might go from house to house, calling up our +officers. + +I suppose that all our officers were out of bed by two o'clock, yet +it took them eight hours to get their men together, into some sort of +order. We were hardly ready for the road at ten A.M. when the drums +beat up to play us out of the town. As I was the Duke's servant, I was +allowed to ride by my master; I daresay people thought that I was the +young Prince. We marched up the hill gaily, with a multitude flocking +all about us, but there were many of that crowd who looked doubtfully +at my master's sad face, thinking that he looked over-melancholy for a +conquering king. + +We marched out of Lyme into a valley, through a sort of suburb called +Uplyme. After that we marched steadily up hill, a long climb of two +miles, having a great view of the countryside on our left hand. Our +right was shut from us by a wooded hill. It was a warm, sunny June day: +the grass just ripe for hay harvest; the country at its best; everything +at its full flower, so that you wondered at the world's abundance. We +sent out scouts, when we were about a mile from Lyme; but when we were +at the top of the hill we could see for ourselves, without putting +scouts abroad. We could see horsemen on the high ground away to the +left, two or three hundred of them. Besides these there were some +companies of foot drawn up in good order in the fields outside +Axminster, at some distance from the town. When this army caught sight +of us, it began to file off towards the town, as though to dispute it +with us, so our advanced guard pushed on to drive them out of it. +The sight of so many men in order, was a very moving one. To see them +advance their colours, to see the light on the shifting steel, to hear +the low beating hum of the feet was stirring to the heart. Word ran +along the line that there was going to be a battle. Our foot left the +road, so as to spread out into line in the open, where they could take +up positions behind hedges. I was sent back to the rear at this instant, +to order up the ammunition waggons, so that I missed some part of the +operations; but I shall never forget how confidently our men spread out; +they marched as though they were going into the fields for partridges. +The drums began again, to hearten them, but there was no need for drums +in that company; they began to sing of their own accord, making a noise +which drowned the drums altogether. I gave my orders to the ammunition +waggons, which were blocked in a jumble of sightseers, camp-followers, +etc., etc., so that they could hardly move. The drivers got me to charge +my horse through the mob to make a path, which I did, with a good deal +of pain to myself, for the people thus thrust aside struck at me. The +drivers struck out at them in return; we had a little fight of our own, +while Axminster was being won. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. I SPEAK WITH AURELIA + +The next thing which I remember was coming out of the mob with the +waggons just behind me, going at a smart pace to a position on the +army's right. The road was pretty full of all sorts of people; but as +we shouted for them to clear the way, they made a lane for us. I saw the +Duke's little clump of staff-officers on a pitch of rising ground, but +there was no firing; only a noise of many voices singing. Just as we +were about to turn off the road into the fields behind our right wing, +I saw the little old lame puppet-man sitting on a donkey by the ditch +at the side of the road. I shouted to the drivers to pass on, which they +did, at full tilt, while I drew rein by the old man's side. “Aurelia,” I +said, “this is no place for you. Do get away from here before they find +you out.” + +“Why,” she said, very calmly, in the broad burring man's voice which +she imitated so exactly. “I be come 'ere to find you out. You'm going to +your death, boy. You get out of this 'ere army afore you're took. I +tell ee thy Duke be a doomed man. Look at en's face. Why, boy, there be +eleven thousand soldiers a-marching to put er down. You've only a got +a quarter of that lot. Come out of en, boy. Do-an't ee be led wrong.” I +was touched by her kind thought for me; she was risking her life for +me for the second time, but in the hurry of the moment I could not put +words together to thank her. + +“Aurelia,” I said, “I can't talk to you now. Only get out of this. Don't +stay here. I'm all right.” + +“No, Martin,” she said, in her ordinary voice, “you're not all right. +Come out of this. Slip away tonight to Newenham Abbey. It be over there, +not more than a couple of miles. Oh, come, come. I can't bear to see you +going away to certain death. I KNOW that this force cannot win.” + +“Yes, Aurelia,” I answered. “But I'm not going to be a hang-back for all +that. I'm not going to be a coward. You risk a horrible death, only to +tell me not to do the same. You wouldn't give up a cause you believed +in, merely because it was dangerous. I'll stick by my master, Aurelia. +Don't try to tempt me.” + +She would have said more; she would perhaps have persuaded me from my +heroics, had not the guns begun firing. That broke the spell with a +vengeance; nothing could be done after that. I shook up my horse, hardly +pausing to say “God bless you.” In another minute she was out of sight, +while I was cantering off to the extreme right wing with the Duke's +orders to his officers to cut in on the road to Chard. As I rode along, +behind the scattered line of our men, I could see the rolls of smoke +from the firing on the left. The men on the right were not firing, but +being raw troops they were edging little by little towards the firing, +in which I do not doubt they longed to be, for the sake of the noise. +They say now that the Duke threw away this battle at Axminster. He could +have cut Albemarle's troops to pieces had he chosen to do so. They made +a pretty bold front till we were within gunfire of them, when they all +scattered off to the town pell-mell. While they were in the town, we +could have cut them off from the Chard road, which would have penned +them in while we worked round to seize the bridges. After that, one +brisk assault would have made the whole batch of them surrender. Some of +our officers galloped from our right wing (where I was) to see how the +land lay, before leading off their men as I had brought them word. A +few of them fired their pistols, when they came to the road, which was +enough to make the right wing double forward to support them without +orders. In a minute about a thousand of us were running fast after our +officers, while the Duke's aides charged down to stop us. He had decided +not to fight, probably thinking that it would do his cause no good by +killing a lot of his subjects so early in his reign. We know now that +had he made one bold attack that morning, the whole of Albemarle's +force, with the exception of a few officers, would have declared for +him. In other words we should have added to our army about a thousand +drilled armed men who knew the country through which we were to pass. +By not fighting, we discouraged our own army, who grumbled bitterly when +they found their second battle as ineffectual as the fight at Bridport. + +I remember next that I saw the whole of Albemarle's troops flying for +their lives along the Chard road, flinging away their weapons as they +ran. They had the start of us; but a resolute captain could have brought +them to a stand, by pushing forward his cavalry. However “a bridge of +gold to a flying foe” is a good saying. We let them go. When our cavalry +advanced (to keep them on the move, not to fight with them) they passed +the time in collecting what the militia had flung away; about four +thousand pounds' worth of soldiers' stores, chiefly uniforms. I went +forward with the horse on that occasion. I picked up altogether about a +dozen muskets, which I gave to some of our men who were armed only with +clubs. Then I rode back to report myself ready for service to my master, +who was getting ready for camp, thinking that his men had done enough +for one day. + +It was a sad waste of time. A rough camp was formed. We went no further +for that time. About half a precious day was wasted, which might have +brought us nearly to Taunton under a resolute man, sworn to conquer. +Some of our men went out to forage, which they did pretty roughly. It +was theft with violence, coloured over by some little touch of law. +The farmers who were unpopular thereabouts had their cattle driven off; +their ricks carted off; their horses stolen; their hen-roosts destroyed. +We were like an army of locusts, eating up everything as we passed. Our +promises to pay, when the King came to his own, were really additional +insult; for the people robbed knew only too well how Stuart kings kept +their promises. One strange thing I saw that night. The men who were +cooking their newly stolen beef at the camp-fires kept crying out for +camp-kettles in which to boil the joints. We had no camp-kettles; but an +old man came forward to the Duke's quarters to ask if he might show the +men how to cook their meat without kettles. The Duke at once commanded +him to show us how this might be done. Like most useful inventions, it +was very simple. It was one of those things which are forgotten as life +becomes civilised, but for want of which one may perish when one returns +to barbarity, as in war. The old man began by placing stout poles +in tripods over the camp-fires, lashing them firmly at the top with +faggot-binders. Then he took the hide of one of the slaughtered cattle, +gathering it up at the corners, so as to form a sort of bag. He cut some +long narrow strips from the hide of the legs, with which to tie the four +corners together. Then he lashed the four corners to the tripod, so that +the bag hung over the fire. + +“There,” he said. “There is your kettle. Now put water into en. Boil +thy victuals in er. That be a soldier's camp-kettle. You can carry your +kettle on your beef till you be ready for en.” + +Indeed, it proved to be a very good kind of a kettle after one got +used to the nastiness of it, though the smell of burning hair from the +kettles was disgusting. To this day, I have only to singe a few hairs +in a candle to bring back to my mind's eye that first day in camp at +Axminster, the hill, the valley ringed in by combes, the noise of the +horses, the sputtering of the fires of green wood, the many men passing +about aimlessly, wondering at the ease of a soldier's life after the +labour of spring ploughing. It was a wonderful sight, that first camp +of ours; but the men for the most part grumbled at not fighting; they +wanted to be pushing on, to seize the city of Bristol, instead of +camping there. How did they know, they said, that the weather would +keep fine? How were we to march with all our ten baggage waggons if the +weather turned wet, so that the roads became muddy? The roads in those +parts became deep quagmires in rainy weather. A light farmer's market +cart might go in up to the axles after a day's steady rain. To march +through such roads would break the men's hearts quicker than any +quantity of fighting, however disastrous. Thus they grumbled about the +camp-fires, while I bustled over the Duke's dinner, in the intervals of +running errands for the colonel. + +That evening, after the summer dusk had come, but before the army had +settled to sleep, I heard an old man, one of our cavalrymen, talking to +another trooper. “Ah,” he said, “I was fighting in the old wars under +Oliver. I've seen wars enough. You mark my words, boy, this army won't +do much. We've not got enough men, for one thing. We could have had +fourteen thousand or more if he'd thought to bring muskets for en. We've +not got cavalry, that's another thing. When us do come face to face with +all the King's men us shall be sore put to it for want of a few trusty +horses. Horsemen be the very backbones of armies in the field. Then, +boy, we not got any captains, that's worst of all. The Duke's no +captain. If he'd been a captain her'd have fought this morning. Them +others aren't captains neither, none of them. Besides, what are they +doing sitting down in camp like this when we ought to be marching? +Us ought to be marching. Marching all night, never setting down once, +marching in two armies, one to Exeter, one to Bristol. Us'd 'ave the two +towns by late tomorrow night if us was under old Oliver. It'll take us +a week to get to Bristol at this rate. By that time it will be full of +troops, as well as secured by ships. As for us, by that time we shall +have troops all round us, not to speak of club-men.” + +“Ah,” said the younger man. “What be club-men, gaffer?” + +“You'll know soon enough what club-men are,” the old man answered, “if +there's any more of this drunken dirty robbery I saw this afternoon. +Those thieves who stole the farmer's cattle would have been shot in +Oliver's time. They'd have cast lots on a drum in sight of all on us, +drawn up. The men who got the low numbers would have been shot. The +captains would have pistolled them where they stood. If this robbing +goes on, all the farmers will club together to defend themselves, making +a sort of second army for us to fight against. That is what club-men +means. It's not a nice thing to fight in a country where there are +club-men all round you. No, boy. So what with all this, boy, I be going +to creep out of this 'ere army. I do-an't like the look of things, nor +I do-an't like the way things are done. If you take a old man's advice +you'll come too.” + +“Noa,” said the honest oaf, “I be agoin' to vight. I be a-goin' to +London town to be a girt sol-dier.” + +“Ah,” said the old man, shortly, “you be a vule, Tummas. Wish ee good +day, maister.” Then the old man turned sharply on his heel to leave the +camp, which he did easily enough, for he knew several of the sentries. +Even if he had not known them, it would have made little difference, +because our sentries were so lax that the camp was always swarming with +strangers. Women came to see their husbands or sweethearts. Boys came +out of love of mischief. Men came out of curiosity, or out of some wish +to see things before they decided which side to take. Our captains were +never sure at night how many of their men would turn up at muster the +next morning. + +After the old man had deserted, I sat down on the high ground above the +camp, in the earthen battery where our four little guns were mounted. I +was oppressed with a sad feeling that we were all marching to death. The +old man's words, “we shall have troops all round us,” rang in my head, +till I could have cried. My mind was full of terrible imaginings. I +saw our army penned up in a little narrow valley where the roads were +quagmires, so that our guns were stuck in the mud, our horses up to +their knees, our men floundering. On the hills all round us I saw +the King's armies, fifty thousand strong, marching to music under the +colours, firing, then wheeling, forming with a glint of pikes, bringing +up guns at a gallop, shooting us down, while we in the mud tried to +form. I knew that the end of it all would be a little clump of men round +the Duke, gathered together on a hillock, holding out to the last. The +men would be dropping as the shot struck them. The wounded would waver, +letting their pike-points drop. Then' there would come a whirling of +cavalry, horses' eyes in the smoke, bright iron horse-shoes gleaming, +swords crashing down on us, an eddy of battle which would end in a hush +as the last of us died. I saw all these pictures in my brain, as clearly +as one sees in a dream. You must not wonder that I looked over the misty +fields towards Newenham Abbey with a sort of longing to be there, well +out of all the war. It was only a mile from me. I could slip away so +easily. I was not bound to stay where I was, to share in the misery +caused by my leader's want of skill. Then I remembered how my father had +believed in the right of the Duke's cause. He would have counselled me +to stay, I thought. It seemed to me, in the dusk of the night, that my +father was by me, urging me to stay. The thought was very blessed; it +cleared away all my troubles as though they had not been. I decided +to look no more towards Newenham; but to go on by the Duke's side to +whatever fortune the wars might bring us. Somehow, the feeling that my +father was by me, made me sure that we were marching to victory. I went +to my quarters comforted, sure of sleeping contentedly. + +Like the rest of us, I had to sleep in the open, without any more +shelter than a horse-cloth. Even the Duke was without a tent that night. +He slept in camp with us, to set an example to his men, though he might +well have gone to some house in the town. I liked the notion of sleeping +out in the open. In fine warm summer weather, when the dew is not too +heavy, it is pleasant, until a little before the dawn, when one feels +uneasy, for some reason, as though an enemy were coming. Perhaps our +savage ancestors, the earliest ancient Britons, who lived in hill-camps, +high up, with their cattle round them, expected the attacks of their +enemies always at a little before the dawn; so that, in time, the +entire race learned to be wakeful then, lest the enemy should catch the +slumberers, with flint-axe heads in the skull. It may be that to this +day we feel the fear felt by so many generations of our ancestors. On +this first night in camp, I found that many of the men were sleeping +uneasily, for they did not know the secret of sleeping in the open. They +did not know that to sleep comfortably in the open one must dig a little +hole in the ground, about as big as a porridge bowl, to receive one's +hipbone. If you do this, you sleep at ease, feeling nothing of the +hardness of the bed. If you fail to do it, you wake all bruised, after a +wretched night's tumbling; you ache all the next day. + +After grubbing up a hollow with my knife, I swathed myself in my blanket +with a saddle for pillow. I watched the stars for a while, as they +drifted slowly over me. The horses stamped, shaking their picket-ropes. +The sentries walked their rounds, or came to the camp-fires to call +their reliefs. The night was full of strange noises. The presence of so +many sleeping men was strange. It was very beautiful, very solemn. It +gave one a kind of awe to think that thus so many famous armies had +slept before the battles of the world, before Pharsalia, before Chalons, +before Hastings. Presently the murmuring became so slight that I fell +asleep, forgetting everything, only turning uneasily from time to time, +to keep the cool night wind from blowing on my cheeks so as to wake me. + +It must have been two in the morning when I was wakened by some armed +men, evidently our sentries, who rolled me over without ceremony. + +“Wake up, young master,” they said, grinning. “You'm wanted. You be to +get up to go a errand. You be a soldier now. You does your sleeping in +peace-times when you be a soldier,” I sat up blinking my eyes, in the +early light, thinking how nice t'other forty winks would be. + +“Heigho,” I yawned. “All right. I'm awake. What is it? What's the +matter?” + +“Lord Grey be a wanting you, young master,” said one of the men. “Down +there, where them horses be in the road.” I picked myself up at that, +wishing for a basin of water into which I might shove my head. + +“Yes, yes,” I said. “Thank you. I'll go down.” I left my blanket where +it was, as I expected to be back in a few minutes. I walked down hill +out of the camp to the road where the horses stood; there were four +horses, two of them mounted. The mounted men were regular country +bumpkins, with green sprays in their hats, like the rest of our men; but +their horses were pretty good, much better than most of those we had. +One of them was a stocky old cob, which was no doubt to be mine. +The other was a beast with handsome harness for Lord Grey. “Alas,” I +thought. “No more sleep for me. I've got to ride. I wonder where we are +going.” The men touched their hats to me; for as I was in the Duke's +retinue I was much respected. Some of them no doubt thought I was a +princeling or little lord. + +“Where are we going?” I asked the troopers. + +“Going scouting out towards Colyton yonder, sir,” said one of them. “Us +be to pick up his Lordship in the town.” + + + +CHAPTER XIX. I MEET THE CLUB MEN + +I wondered when I was to get breakfast; but I knew Lord Grey well enough +to know that he was not a man to go willingly without food for more than +a few hours at a time. Breakfast I should have presently, nor would it +be skin-boiled beef, smelling of singed hair. So I mounted my cob with +a good will. The first trooper rode by my side, the other waited for a +moment to examine the feet of Lord Grey's charger. He trotted after +us, leading the riderless horse, some fifty yards behind us. We trotted +smartly through Axminster, where we set the dogs barking. People sprang +from their beds when they heard us, fearing that we were an army coming +to fight. We cantered out of the town over the river, heading towards a +hilly country, which had few houses upon it. I looked back after leaving +Axminster, to see if Lord Grey wanted me. He had mounted his horse +somewhere in the town; but he was now a couple of hundred yards behind +us, riding' with a third man, whom I judged to be Colonel Foukes, by his +broad white regimental scarf. After we had gone a few miles, we came to +a cross-roads where my guide bade me halt to wait for orders. The others +had pulled up, too. I could see Lord Grey examining a map, while his +horse sidled about across the road. The trooper who had been riding with +him, joined us after a while, telling us to take the road to our right, +which would take us, he said, towards Taunton. We were to keep our eyes +skinned, he said, for any sign of armed men coming on the high-road from +Honiton, so as to threaten our left flank. The gentlemen were going to +scout towards the sea. At eight o'clock, if we had seen no trace of any +armed force coming, we were to make for Chard, where we should find the +Duke's army. We were to examine the roads for any signs of troops having +passed recently towards Taunton. We were to enquire of the country +people, if troops were abroad in that countryside, what troops they +might be, how led, how equipped, etc. If we came across any men anxious +to join the Duke we were to send them on to Chard or Ilminster, on the +easterly road to Taunton. We were to ride without our green boughs, he +said; so before starting on our road we flung them into the ditches. +Lord Grey waved his hand to us, as he turned away with his friend. We +took off our hats in reply, hardly in a soldierly salute; then we set +off at a walk along the Taunton road. It is a lonely road leading up to +the hills, a straight Roman road, better than any roads laid in England +at that time; but a road which strikes horror into one, the country +through which it runs is so bleak. + +By about six o'clock (according to one of the troopers, who judged by +the height of the sun) we were in a clump of firs high up on a hill, +looking over a vast piece of eastern Devon. We had scouted pretty +closely all round Honiton, examining the country people, without hearing +of any troops. We were now looking out for some gleam upon a road, some +rising of dust over a hedge, some scattering of birds even, any sign +of men advancing, which might be examined more closely. The morning was +bright; but the valleys had mist upon them, which would soon turn to the +quivering blue June heat-haze. The land lay below us, spread out in huge +folds; the fields, all different colours, looked like the counties on a +map; we could see the sea, we could see the gleam of a little river. We +could see Axminster far to the east of us; but the marching army was out +of sight, somewhere on the Chard high-road. After scanning pretty well +all around us, I caught sight of moving figures on the top of one of the +combes to south of us. We all looked hard at the place, trying to make +out more of them. They were nearly a mile from us. They seemed to be +standing there as sentries. At first we thought that they must be people +with Lord Grey; but as we could see no horses we decided that they could +not be. One of the men said that as far as he'd heard tell like, +the combe on which they stood was what they call a camp, where soldiers +lived in the old time. He didn't know much more about it; but he said +that he thought we ought to examine it, like, before riding on to some +inn where we could breakfast. + +The other man seemed to think so, too; but when we came to talk over +the best way of doing our espials, we were puzzled. We should be seen at +once if we went to them directly. We might be suspected if we approached +them on horseback. If the men went, they might be detained, because, for +all that we knew, the combe might be full of militia. So I said I had +better go, since no one would suspect a boy. To this the men raised a +good many objections, looking at each other suspiciously, plainly asking +questions with their raised eyebrows. I thought at the time that they +were afraid of sending me into a possible danger, because I was a +servant attached to the Duke's person. However, when I said that I would +go on foot, taking all precautions, they agreed grudgingly to let me go. + +I crept along towards this combe on foot, as though I were going bird's +nesting. I beat along by the hedges, keeping out of sight behind them, +till I was actually on the combe's north slope, climbing up to the old +earthwork on the top. I took care to climb the slope at a place where +there was no sentry, which was, of course, not only the steepest bit of +the hill but covered with gorse clumps, through which I could scarcely +thrust my way. Up towards the top the gorse was less plentiful; there +were immense foxgloves, ferns, little marshy tufts where rushes grew, +little spots of wet bright green moss. Yellow-hammers drawled their +pretty tripping notes to me, not starting away, even when I passed close +to them. All the beauty of June was on the earth that day; the beauty of +everything in that intense blue haze was wonderful. + +The top of the combe was very steep, steeper than any of the ascent, +because it had been built up like an outer wall by the savages who once +lived there with their cattle. I could see just the bare steep wall +of the rampart standing up in a dull green line of short-grassed turf +against the sky, now burning with the intense blue of summer. One hard +quick scramble, with my fingernails dug into the ground, brought my head +to the top of the rampart, beyond which I could see nothing but +great ferns, a forest of great ferns, already four or five feet high, +stretching away below, into the cup of the camp or citadel. I did not +dare to stand up, lest I should be seen. I burrowed my way among the +ferns over the wall into the hollow, worming my way towards the edge of +the fern clump so that I could see. In a minute, I was gazing through +the fern-stems into the camp itself; it was a curious sight. + +About fifty people (some of them women) were sitting about a hollow +in the ground, which I guessed to be a sort of smokeless fireplace or +earth-oven. Everywhere else, all over the hollow of the camp, which +must have been a full three hundred yards across, were various kinds of +farm-stock, mostly cattle, though there were many picketed horses, too. +At first I thought that I had climbed into a camp of gipsies, which gave +me a scare; for gipsies then were a wild lot, whom wise folk avoided. +Then, as I glanced about, I saw a sentry standing not thirty yards from +me, but well above me, on the rampart top. He was no gipsy he was an +ordinary farmer's lad, with the walk of a ploughman. His sleeves, which +were rolled back, showed me a sun-burnt pair of arms, such as no gipsy +ever had. What puzzled me about him was his heavy double-barrelled +pistol, which he carried in his right hand, with something of a military +cock, yet as though awed by it. He was not over sure of that same +pistol. I could see that he confounded it in some way with art-magic. + +Then I remembered what the old soldier had said the night before about +club men. This camp must be a camp of club men, I thought. They had come +there to protect their stock from the rapine of our vile pillagers, who +had spread such terror amongst the farmers the day before. Perched up +on the combe, with sentries always on the look-out, they could see the +Duke's raiders long before they came within gunshot. If an armed force +had tried to rush the camp, after learning that the beasts were shut up +within it (which, by the way, no man could possibly suspect until he +saw them from the rampart top), the few defenders clubbed together there +could have kept them out without difficulty; for there was only one +narrow entrance to the camp, so constructed that any one entering by it +could be shot at from three sides, if not from all four. I looked about +me carefully from my hiding-place, till I decided that I could get a +better view from another part of the fern clump. I began to wriggle +through the thick, sweet-scented stalks, towards the heart of the camp, +going with infinite care, so as not to break down the fern into a path. +I hoped to make no more stir among the fern-tops than would be made by +one of the many pigs scattering about in the enclosure. + +While I was crawling along in this way, I suddenly heard a curious +noise from an intensely thick part of the fern in front of me. It was a +clinking noise, followed by a sort of dry rasping, as though a very big +person were gritting his teeth very hard. It stopped suddenly, but soon +began again. I thought that it must be some one mending harness with +a file, or perhaps some old sheep or cow, with the remnants of a bell +about her neck, licking a stone for salt. As was in an adventure, +I thought that I would see it out to the end; for I was enjoying my +morning. In spite of the want of breakfast I felt very like a red Indian +or a pirate, creeping through the jungle to the sack of a treasure +train. So I wormed on towards the noise. As I came near to it, I went +more cautiously, because in one of the pauses of the noise, I heard a +muttered curse, which told me that the unseen noise-maker was a man. If +I had been wise I should have stopped there; for I had learned all that +I came out to learn. But I was excited now. I wished to see everything, +before creeping away unseen to make my report. Perhaps I wished to see +something which had nothing to do with the club men, a private main +of cocks, say, or a dog, or bull-baiting, carried on with some of the +squire's creatures, but without his knowledge. I had a half wish that I +might have something of the kind to report; because in my heart I longed +to say nothing to any of the Duke's party which might lead to the ruin +of these poor people who were trying so hard to protect their property. + +A few feet further on, I was wishing most heartily that I had never +left my room in London. It was like this. In the very heart of the fern +clump, where the ferns were tallest, a little spring bubbled out of +the ground, at the rate, I suppose, of a pint of water in a minute. The +ferns grew immensely thick there; but someone had thinned out a few of +the roots from the ground, leaving the uprooted plant with the ferns +still living, to form a rough kind of thatch above a piece of earth big +enough for a man's body. In the scented shade of this thatch, with +the side of his face turned towards me, a big, rough, bearded man sat, +filing away some bright steel irons which were riveted on his ankles. He +swore continually in a low whisper as he worked, not even pausing in his +curses when he spat on to the hollow scraped in the irons by his file. +He was the fiercest looking savage of a man I have ever seen. His face +had a look of stern, gloomy cruelty which I shall never forget. His +general appearance was terrible; for he had a face burnt almost black by +the sun (some of it may have been mud) with a nasty white scar running +irregularly all down his left cheek, along the throat to the shoulder. +He was not what you might call naked, a naked man, such as I have seen +since in the hot countries, would have looked a nobleman beside him. He +wore a pair of dirty linen knickerbockers, all frayed into ribbons at +the knees, a pair of strong hide slippers bound to his ankles by strips +of leather, a part of a filthy red shirt without sleeves, a hat stolen +from a scarecrow, nothing else whatever, except the mud of many days' +gathering. His shirt was torn all down the back in a great slit which +he had tried to secure by what the sailors call “Bristol buttons,” i.e. +pieces of string. The red flannel hung from him so as to show his back, +all criss-crossed with flogging scars. I knew at once from the irons +that he was a criminal escaped from gaol; but the criss-crossed scars +taught me that he was a criminal of the most terrible kind, probably one +who had shipped into the Navy to avoid hanging. + +I took in a view of him before he saw me. His image was stamped on my +brain in less than ten seconds. In the eleventh second, I was lying on +my back in the gloom of the fern-growth, with this great ruffian on my +chest, squeezing me by my windpipe. I cannot say that he spoke to me. It +was not speech. It was the snarling wild beast gurgle which passes for +speech in the slums of our great cities, as though all the filth of a +low nature were choking in the throat at once. He was on me too quickly +for me to cry out. I could only lie still, cackling for breath, while +the fierce face glowered down on me. I understood him to say that he +would have my windpipe out if I said a word. I suppose he saw that I was +only a very frightened boy; for his clutch upon me relaxed, after a few +awful, gasping moments. When he loosed his hold, his great hand pawed +over my throat till he had me by the scruff of the neck. He drew me over +towards the spring, as one would draw a puppy. Then, still crouching in +the fern, he hurried me to a single stunted sloe-bush which grew there. +“Go down, you,” he said, giving me a shove towards the bush. “Down th' +'ole.” + +Just behind the sloe-bush, under a fringe of immense ferns, was an +opening in the earth, about eighteen inches high, by two feet across. +It was like a large rabbit or fox earth, except that the mouth of it was +not worn bare. I did not like the thought of going down th' 'ole; but +with this great griping fist on my nape there was not much sense in +saying so. I wormed my way in, helped on by prods from the file. It was +a melancholy moment when my head passed beyond the last filtering of +light into the tomb's blackness, where not even insects lived. After a +moment of scrambling I found that the passage was big enough for me to +go on all fours. It was a dry passage, too, which seemed strange to me; +but on reaching out with my hand I felt that the walls were lined with +well laid stones, unmortared. The roof above me was also of stone. You +may wonder why I did not shoot this ruffian with my pistol. You boys +think that if you had a pistol you would shoot any one who threatened +you. You would not. When the moment comes, it is not so easily disposed +of. Besides, a filthy, cursing pirate on your throat checks your natural +calm most strangely. + +The passage led into the swell of the rampart for about twenty yards, +where it opened into a dimly lighted chamber about four feet high. A +little blink of light came through a rabbit hole, at the end of which +I saw a spray of gorse with the sunlight on it. I could see by the dim +light that the chamber was built of unmortared stones, very cleverly +laid. The floor of it was greasier than the passage had been, but still +it was not damp. On one side it had a bed of heather stalks, on the +other there was something dark which felt like cold meat. The man came +grunting in behind me, clinking his leg-irons. After groping about in a +corner of the room he lighted a stinking rushlight by means of a tinder +box. + + + +CHAPTER XX. THE SQUIRE'S HOUSE + +“There,” he said, not unkindly, “there's a nice little 'ome for yer. Now +you, tell me wot you were doing spying on me. First of all, 'ave you +any money?” He did not wait for me to answer, but dug his hands into my +pockets at once, taking every penny I had, except a few shillings +which were hidden in my belt. He did not see my belt, as I had taken to +wearing it next my skin, since I began to follow the wars. I feared from +the greed which showed in all his movements that he vas going to strip +me; but he did not do so, thinking, no doubt, that none of my clothes +would fit his body. + +“Well,” he said, in his snarling beast voice, “wot's up 'ere, with all +these folk brought their beasts 'ere?” + +I told him that the Duke had come co fight for the crown of England, +with the result, as I supposed, that the country people dared not trust +their live-stock at home, for fear of having them pillaged. He seemed +pleased at the news; but being an utter wild beast, far less civilized +than the lowest savage ever known to me, he showed his pleasure by +hoping that the rich (whom he cursed fluently) might have their heads +pulled off in the war, while as for the poor (the farmers close by us) +he hoped that they might lose every beast they owned. “Do 'era good,” + he said. “Now,” he went on, “are you come spying 'ere along of the +farmers?” + +“No,” I said, “I am a servant of the Duke's, riding out to look for the +militia.” + +“Ah,” he said. “Are yer, cocky? 'Ow'm I to know that?” + +“Well,” I said, “Look at my hands. Are they the hands of a farmer?” + +“No,” he said. “No, Mister stuck-up flunkey, they ain't. I s'pose yet +proud of yet 'ands. I'll 'ave yer wait at table on me.” He seemed to +like the notion: for he repeated it many times, while he dug out hunks +of cold ham with his file, from the meat which I had felt as I crawled +in + + “'Ow proud I dig + A'unk a cold pig” + +he sang, as he gulped the pieces down. It was partly a nightmare, partly +very funny. I was not sure if he was mad, probably he was mad, but being +down in the burrow there, in the half darkness, hearing that song, made +me feel that I was mad; it was all a very terrible joke; perhaps madness +affects people like that. At last I spoke to him again. + +“Sir,” I said, “I've been up since two this morning. Give me a hunk of +cold pig, too. I'm half-starved.” + +“'Elp yourself, can't yer?” he snarled. “Oo'm I to wait on yer?” Then, +very cunningly, he put in, “'Ave you got a knife on yer?” + +“No,” I said cautiously, “I've got no knife,” which was a lie; I did not +wish my knife to go the same way as the money. He gave me some cold +pig, very excellent ham it was, too, for which I was very thankful. He +watched my greediness with satisfaction. I ate heartily when I saw that +my confident way with him had made him more tender towards me. + +“Yes,” he snorted. “Per'aps you ain't been lying to me after all. Now +'ow long will these blokes be up the 'ill 'ere?” I did not know that; +but I supposed that they would go home directly the Duke's army had got +as far, say, as Taunton. “But,” I added, “the Duke may be beaten. If +he's beaten, all this part will be full of troops beating every bush for +the rebels.” He swore at this; but his curses were only designed to hide +his terror. + +“Could a fellow get to sea,” he said in a whining tone. “Could a poor +fellow in trouble slip away to sea, now, at one of these seaport towns? +Boy, I been livin' like a wild beast all the way from Bristol, this two +months. I didn't kill the feller; not dead. The knife only went into 'im +a very little way, not more'n a inch. I was raised near 'ere at a farm. +So I knowed of this 'ere burrow. I got 'ere two days ago, pretty near +dead. Now I been penned up from the sea by these farmers comin' 'ere, +doin' swottin' sentry-go all round me. I tell yer, I'll cut up sour, if +they pen me in, now I'm so near got away. I been with Avery. They call +Avery a pirate. They said I was a pirate. It's 'anging if they ketch +me. Do yer think I could get away to Lyme or some place, to get took +into a ship?” I told him, no; because I knew from what Lord Grey had +told me, that the Channel was full of men-of-war searching every +ship which hove in sight; besides, he did not look to me to be a very +promising hand for a captain to take aboard. + +“All the same,” he said, “I got to risk it. You say there may be troops +coming?” + +“As for that,” I answered, “the troops may be here at any moment from +Exeter or Honiton. They've arrested hundreds of people everywhere +around. You'd better stay in the burrow here.” He did not pay much +attention to what I said. He cursed violently, as though he were a +bag-pipe full of foul words being slowly squeezed by some player. At +last he crawled to the passage, foaming out incoherently that he would +show them, he would, let them just wait. + +“You stay 'ere,” he said. “If I find you follerin' me, I'll mash your 'ed +into that much slobber.” He showed me a short piece of rope which he had +twisted, sailor fashion, so as to form a handle for a jagged piece of +flint, which, as I could see, had been used on some one or something +quite recently. + +“Mogador Jack,” he said, “'e don't like people follerin' 'im.” With that +he left me alone in the burrow, wondering, now that it was over, why he +had not killed me. He left me quite stunned; his sudden coming into my +life had been so strange. It was unreal, like a dream, to have been +in an ancient Briton's burial-chamber with a mad old pirate who had +committed murder. But now that he had gone, I was eager to go, too, if +it could be managed. I would not stay there till the brute came back, in +spite of that flint club. After waiting some little time, during which, +I felt sure, he was waiting for me at the door of the burrow, I took +out my pistol. I examined the charge to see that all was well; then very +cautiously, I began to crawl up the passage, with my pistol in my hand. + +I waited for some minutes near the door, trying to convince myself by +the lie of the shadows outside that he was crouched there, ready for me. +But it seemed safe. I could see no shadow at all except the tremulous +fern-shadows. At last I took off my coat as a blind. I flung it through +the doorway, with some force, to see if it would draw him from his +hiding. Nothing happened. The ruffian did not pounce upon it. I took +a few long breaths to hearten me; it was now or never. I shut my eyes, +praying that the first two blows might miss my head, so that I should +have time to fire. Then, on my back, with my pistol raised over my head, +I forced myself out with every muscle in my body. I leaped to my feet on +the instant, quickly glancing round for the madman, swinging my pistol +about with my finger hard on the trigger. He was not there, after all. +I might have spared myself the trouble. I was alone there in the fern, +within earshot of a murmur of voices, talking excitedly. I was not going +to spy into any more secrets. I was going to get out of that camp cost +what it might. I made one rush through the fern in the direction of the +rampart, shoving the stalks aside, as a bull knocks through jungle in +Campeachy. In thirty steps I was clear of the fern, charging slap into a +group of people who were giving brandy to the sentry, whom I had passed +but a little while before. He was bleeding from a broken wound on his +pretty hard Saxon skull. He was not badly hurt, for he was swearing +lustily; but he had been stunned just long enough for my pirate man to +strip him. He was dressed now in a pair of leather gaiters, all the rest +of his things had been taken, the pistol with them, I saw all this at +a glance, as I charged in among them. I took it all in, guessing in one +swift gleam of comprehension, exactly what had happened there, as my +pirate made his rush for freedom. There was no time to ask if my guess +were right or not. + +“Out of my way,” I shouted, shoving my pistol towards the nearest of the +group. “Out of my way, or I shall fire.” They made way for me. I charged +down hill by the way I had come. Some one cried “Stop en.” Another +shouted “Shoot en, maister.” There came a great bang of a gun over my +head. But I was going down hill like a rabbit, into the gorse, into the +bracken, into the close cover of the heath. Glancing back, I saw a dozen +excited people rushing down the rampart after me. Some flung stones; +some ran to catch horses to chase me. But I had the start of them. I was +down the hill, over the hedge, in the lane, in no time. There, a hundred +yards away, I saw my friends the troopers leading my cob. I shouted to +them. They heard me. They came up to me at a gallop. In ten seconds more +we were sailing away together. + +“You been getting into scrapes, master,” said one of the troopers. “You +doan't want to meddle with the folk in these parts.” + +“No,” said the other, with a touch of insolence in his voice. “So your +master may find, one of these fine days.” Being mindful of the Duke's +honour, I told the man to mind his own business, which he said he meant +to do, without asking my opinion. After that we rode on together a +little heated, till we were out of sight of the combe, where I had had +such a startling adventure. + +After another hour of riding, we pulled up at the garden gate of an old +grey handsome house which stood at some distance from the road. I asked +one of the troopers who lived in this house. He said that it was an old +Abbey, which belonged to Squire; but that we were to leave word there +of the Duke's movements, “for Squire be very 'tached to the Protestants; +besides he'll give us a breakfast. Sure to.” We left our horses at the +gate while we walked up to the house. A pretty girl, who seemed to know +one of the men, told us to come in, while she got breakfast for us. +“Squire,” she said, “would be glad to hear what was going on; for he was +that given up to the soldiers we couldn't hardly believe.” We were +shown down a long flagged corridor to a little cool room which looked as +though it had once been the abbot's cell. It had a window in it, looking +out upon a garden in full flower, a little rose garden, covered with +those lovely bushes of old English red single roses, the most beautiful +flower in the world. The window was large, but the space of it was +broken up by stone piers, so that no pane of glass was more than six +inches wide. I mention this now, because of what happened later. There +was not much furniture in the room; but what there was was very good. +There was an old Dutch pewter jug, full of sweet-williams, on the +table. On the wall' there was a picture of a Spanish gentleman on a +cream-coloured, fat handsome little horse. Together they looked very +like Don Quixote out for a ride with his squire. The two troopers left +me in this room, while they went off to the kitchen. Presently the +servant came in again, bringing me a noble dish of breakfast, a pigeon +pie, a ham, a jar of preserved quince, a honeycomb, a great household +loaf, newly baked, a big quart jug full of small beer. I made a very +honest meal. After eating, I examined the room. There was tapestry over +one part of the wall. It concealed a little low door which led to what +had once been the abbot's fishpond, now a roofed-in bath-house, where +one could plunge into eight feet or so of (bitterly cold) spring water. +This bath-house was some steps lower than the little dining room. It +was lighted by a skylight directly over the bath. It had no other window +whatever. After examining the bath, wishing that I had known of it +before eating, I went back to the dining room, where the servant was +clearing away the food. + +“I hope you enjoyed your breakfast, sir,” she said. + +“Yes, thank you, very much indeed,” I answered. + +“Squire will be down d'reckly, sir,” she said. “If you will please to +make yourself at home.” I made myself at home, as she desired, while +she, after a few minutes, took away the soiled plates, leaving all the +other things on the side-board, ready for dinner. I noticed that she +smiled in a rather strange way as she drew to the door behind her. + +I loitered away about half an hour, waiting for the squire to come. As +he did not come, I turned over the books on the shelves, mostly volumes +of plays, the Spanish Tragedy, the Laws of Candy, Love Lies a Bleeding, +etc., four plays to a volume in buckram covers. I was just getting +tired of All for Love, when I heard a footstep in the passage outside. +I thought that I would ask the passenger, whoever it might be, for +how much longer the squire would keep me waiting. I was anxious about +getting back to the army. It was dangerous to straggle too far from the +Duke's camps when unbeaten armies followed on both his wings. So I went +to the door to learn my fate at once. To my great surprise I found that +I could not open it. It was locked on the outside. The great heavy +iron lock had been turned upon me. I was a prisoner in the room there. +Thinking that it had been done carelessly, I beat upon the door to +attract the man who passed down the passage, calling to him to turn the +key for me so that I might get out. The footsteps did not pause. They +passed on, down the corridor, as though the man were deaf. After that +a fury came upon me. I beat upon the door for five minutes on end, till +the house must have rung with the clatter; but no one paid any attention +to me, only, far away, I heard a woman giggling, in an interval when I +had paused for breath. The door was a heavy, thick oak door, bound with +iron. The lock was a bar of steel at least two inches thick; there was +no chance of getting it open. Even firing into the lock with my little +pistol would not have helped me; it would only have jammed the tongue of +steel in its bed. I soon saw the folly of trying to get out by the door; +so I turned to the window, which was more difficult still, or, if not +more difficult, more tantalizing, since it showed me the free garden +into which one little jump would suffice to carry me. But the closely +placed piers of stone made it impossible for me to get through the +window. It was no use trying to do so. I should only have stuck fast, +midway. I began at once to pick out the mortar of the pier stones with +my knife point. It was hopeless work, though, for the old monks had used +some cement a good deal harder than the stones which it bound together. +I could only dig away a little dust from its surface. That way also was +barred to me. Then I went down to the bathing-chamber, hoping that there +would be some way of escape for me there. I hoped that the escape pipe +of the bath might be a great stone conduit leading to a fish-pond in +the garden. It was nothing of the sort. It was a little miserable leaden +pipe. I beat all round the walls, praying for some secret door, but +there was nothing of any use to me, only a little iron ventilator high +up, big enough to take my head, but nothing more. As for the skylight +over the bath, it was beyond my reach, high up. For the moment I could +see no means of getting to it. I went back to the dining room to give +another useless pounding to the door. My head was full of miserable +forebodings; but as yet I suspected merely that I had been caught by +some sudden advance of militia. Or perhaps the squire had laid plans +to get information from one who knew the Duke. Perhaps I had been lured +away specially by one hungry for the King's good opinion. Or could it be +Aurelia? Whatever it was, I was trapped, that was the terrible thing. I +was shut up there till my enemy, whoever it was, chose to deal with me. +I was in arms against the ruling King of England; everybody's hand would +be against me, unless my own hands helped me before my enemies came. +My first thought was to get the table down the steps, to make a bridge +across the bath, from which I could reach the skylight. This I could not +do at first; for being much flustered, I did not put the table-leaves +down. Until I knocked them down in my hurry they kept me from dragging +the table from the dining room. When I got it at last into the +bath-room, I found that it would not stretch across the water: the legs +were too close together, as I might have seen had I kept my wits about +me. I could think of no other way of getting out. + +I went back disheartened to the dining room, dragging my coat behind +me. The first thing which I saw was a letter addressed to me in a hand +already known to me. The letter lay on the floor on the space once +covered by the table. As it had not been there when I dragged the table +downstairs, someone must have entered the room while I was away. I +opened the letter in a good deal of flurry. It ran as follows: + +“Dear Martin Hyde:--As you will not take a sincere friend's advice, you +have to make the best of a sincere adviser's friendship. You did me a +great service. Let me do you one. I hope to keep you an amused prisoner +until your captain is a beaten man. By about three weeks from this 26th +of June we shall hope to have made you so much our friend that you will +not think of leaving us. May I make a compact with you? Please do not +shoot me with that pistol of yours when I bring you some supper tonight. +That is one part of it. The other is this. Let us be friends. We know +all about you. I have even talked to Ephraim about you. So let us make +it up. We have been two little spit fires. At any rate you have. Let us +be friends. What sorts of books do you like to read? I shall bring you +some story-books about ghosts, or about red Indians. Which do you like +best? I like red Indians myself. I suppose you, being a man, like ghosts +best. Your sincere friend Aurelia Carew. Who by the by thinks it best +to warn you that you had not better try to get up the chimney, as it is +barred across. She hopes that the table did not fall into the bath.” + + + +CHAPTER XXI. MY FRIEND AURELIA AND HER UNCLE + +It was a friendly letter, which relieved me a good deal from my +anxieties; but what I could not bear was the thought that the Duke would +think me a deserter. I made up my mind that I would get away from that +house at the first opportunity, so as to rejoin the Duke, to whom I felt +myself pledged. But in the meantime, until I could get away, I resolved +to make the best of my imprisonment. I was nettled by Aurelia's tone of +superiority. I would show her, as I had shown her before, that my wits +were just as nimble as hers. A few minutes after the letter had been +read, she held a parley with me through the keyhole. + +“Mr. Martin Hyde. Are you going to shoot me?” + +“No, Miss Carew, though I think you deserve it.” + +“You won't try to get away if I open the door?” + +“I mean to get away as soon as ever I get half a chance.” + +“I've got three men with me at the door here.” + +“Oh. Very well. But you just wait till I get a chance.” + +“Don't be so bloodthirsty, Mr. Martin Hyde. Now, I'm coming in to talk +with you. No pistols, mind. Not one.” + +“I've promised I won't shoot. You might believe a fellow. But I mean to +get away, remember. Just to show you.” + +She opened the door after that, a brown, merry Aurelia, behind whom I +could see three men, ready to stop any rush. They closed the door behind +her after she had entered. + +“Well,” she said, smiling. “Will you not shake hands with me, Martin +Hyde?” + +“Yes,” I said, “I will shake hands. But you played a very mean trick, I +think. There.” + +“You mustn't think me mean,” she answered. “I don't like mean people. +Now promise me one thing. You say you are going to run away from us. You +won't run away from me when I am with you, will you?” + +“No,” I said, after thinking this over, to see if it could be twisted +into any sort of trap, likely to stop my escape. “I will not. Not while +I am with you.” + +“That's right,” she said. “We can go out together, then. Now you've +promised, suppose we go out into the garden.” + +We went into the garden together, talking of every subject under the sun +but the subject nearest to our hearts at the moment. I would not speak +of her capture of me; she would not speak of the Duke's march towards +Taunton. There was some constraint whenever we came near those subjects. +She was a very merry, charming companion; but the effect of her talk +that morning was to make me angry at being trapped by her. I looked over +the countryside for guiding points in case I should be able to get away. +Axminster lay to the southeast, distant about six miles; so much I could +reckon from the course of our morning's ride. I could not see Axminster +for I was shut from it by rolling combes, pretty high, which made a +narrow valley for the river. To the west the combes were very high, +strung along towards Taunton in heaps. Due east, as I suspected, quite +near to us, was Chard, where by this time the Duke must have been +taking up his position. Taunton I judged (from a mile-stone which we had +passed) to be not much more than a dozen miles from where I was. I have +always had a pretty keen sense of position. I do not get lost. Even in +the lonely parts of the world I have never been lost. I can figure out +the way home by a sort of instinct helped by a glimpse at the sun. When +I go over a hill I have a sort of picture-memory of what lies behind, +to help me home again, however tortuous my path is on the other side. So +the few glimpses which I could get of the surrounding country were real +helps to me. I made more use of them than Aurelia suspected. + +We were much together that day. Certainly she did her best to make my +imprisonment happy. In the evening she was kinder; we were more at ease +together; I was able to speak freely to her. + +“Aurelia,” I said, “you risked your life twice to warn me.” + +“That's not quite true, Martin,” she said. “I am a government spy, +trusted with many people's lives. I had other work to do than to warn a +naughty boy who wanted to see what the ghosts were.” I was startled at +her knowing so much about me; she laughed. + +“Well,” she said, “I like you for it. I should have wanted to see them +myself. But the ghost-makers are scattered far enough now.” + +“All the same, Aurelia,” I said, “I thank you for what you did for me. I +wish I could do something in return.” She laughed. + +“Well,” she said, “you were very kind in the ship. You were a good enemy +to me then. Weren't you?” + +“Yes,” I said, “I beat you properly on the ship. I carried the Duke's +letters in my pistol cartridges, where you never suspected them. The +letters which were in the satchel I forged myself after I got on board. +If you'd not been a silly you'd have seen that they were forged.” + +“So that was why,” she said. “Those letters gave everybody more anxious +work than you've any notion of. Oh, Martin, though, I helped to drug you +to get those letters. It was terrible. Terrible. Will you ever forgive +me?” + +“Why, yes, Aurelia,” I said. “After all, it was done for your King. Just +as I mean to run away from here to serve mine. All is fair in the King's +service. Let us shake hands on that.” We shook hands heartily, looking +into each other's eyes. + +“By the way,” I said, “where did you get to that day in Holland, when I +got the letters from you?” + +“Ah,” she answered, “you made me like a wildcat that day. I nearly +killed you, twice. You remember that low parapet on the roof? I was +behind that, waiting for you with a loaded pistol. You were all very +near your deaths that morning. In the King's service, of course. +For just a minute, I thought that you would climb up to examine that +parapet. What a crazy lot you all were not to know at once that I was +there! Where else could I have been?” + +“Well,” I answered, “I beat you in the ride, didn't I? You thought +yourself awfully clever about that horse at the inn. Well, I beat +you there. I beat you in the race. I beat you with my letters to the +Dutchman. I beat you over those forgeries.” + +“Yes, indeed,” she said. “I can beat all the men in your Duke's service. +Every one. Even clever Colonel Lane. Even Fletcher of Saltoun. But a +boy is so unexpected, there's no beating a boy, except with a good +birch rod. You beat me so often, Martin, that I think you can afford to +forgive me for tricking you once in bringing you here.” + +“I shall beat you in that, too, Miss Carew,” I said; “for I mean to get +away from you as soon as I can.” + +“So you say,” she said. “But we have club men walking all round this +house all night, as well as sentries by day, guarding the stock. +Your gang of marauders will find a rough welcome if they come for +refreshments here.” + +Even as she spoke, there came a sudden crash of fire-arms from the +meadows outside the garden. About a dozen men came hurrying out of the +house with weapons in their hands, among them a big, fierce-looking +handsome man, who drew his sword as he ran. + +“That is my uncle, Travers Carew,” said Aurelia. “He owns this property. +He wants to meet you.” There came another splutter of fire-arms from the +meadows. “Come,” she said. “We'll see what it is. It is the Duke's men +come pillaging.” + +We ran through a gate in the wall into an apple-orchard, where the Carew +men were already dodging among the trees towards the enemy. There was +a good deal of shouting, but the tide of battle, as they call it, the +noise of shots, the trampling of horses, had already set away to the +left, where the enemy were retreating, with news, as I heard later, that +the militia held the Abbey in force. The Carew men came back in a few +minutes with a prisoner. He had been captured while holding the horses +of two friends, who had dismounted to drive off some of the Carew +cattle. He said that the attack had been made by a party of twenty of +the Duke's horse, sent out to bring in food for the march. They had +scattered at the first discharge of fire-arms, which had frightened them +horribly, for they had not expected any opposition. The frightened men +never drew rein till they galloped their exhausted horses into Chard +camp, where they gave another touch of dejection to the melancholy Duke. +As for the prisoner, he was sent off under guard to Honiton gaol; I +don't know what became of him. He was one of more than three thousand +who came to death or misery in that war. They said that he was a young +farmer, in a small way, from somewhere out beyond Chideock. The war +had been a kind of high-spirited frolic for him; he had entered into it +thoughtlessly, in the belief that it would be a sort of pleasant ride to +London, with his expenses paid. Now he was ended. When he rode out with +bound hands from the Carew house that evening, between two armed riders, +he rode out of life. He never saw Chideock again, except in the grey +light of dawn, after a long ride upon a hurdle, going to be hanged +outside his home. Or perhaps he was bundled into one of the terrible +convict ships bound for Barbadoes, with other rebels, to die of +small-pox on the way, or under the whip in the plantations. + +After this little brush, with its pitiful accompaniment, which filled +me full of a blind anger against the royal party, so much stronger, yet +with so much less right than ours, I was taken in to see Sir Travers +Carew. He had just sent off the prisoner to Honkon, much as he would +have brushed a fly from his hand. He had that satisfaction with himself, +that feeling of having supported the right, which comes to all those who +do cruel things in the name of that code of unjust cruelty, the criminal +law. He looked at me with rather a grim smile, which made me squirm. + +“So,” he said, “this is the young rebel, is it? Do you know that I could +send you off to Honiton gaol with that poor fellow there?” This made my +heart die; but something prompted me to put a good face on it. + +“Sir,” I said, “I have done what my father thought right. I don't wish +to be treated better than any other prisoner. Send me to Honiton, sir.” + +“No,” he said, looking at me kindly. “I shall not send you to Honiton. +You are not in arms against the King's peace, nor did you come over from +Holland with the Duke. I can't send you to Honiton. Besides, I knew your +father, Martin. I was at college with him. He was a good friend of +mine, poor fellow. No, sir, I shall keep you here till the Duke's crazy +attempt is knocked on the head. I think I can find something better for +you to do than that fussy old maid, your uncle, could. But, remember, +sir. You have a reputation for being a slippery young eel. I shall take +particular pains to keep you from slipping out of my hands. But I do not +wish to use force to your father's son. Will you give me your word not +to try to escape?” + +“No,” I answered, sullenly. “I won't. I mean to get away directly I +can.” + +“Come,” he said kindly, “we tricked you rather nastily. But do you +suppose, Martin, that your father, if he were here, would encourage your +present resolutions? The Duke is coming (nearly unprepared) to bring a +lot of silly yokels into collision with fully trained soldiers ten times +more numerous. If the countryside, the gentry, the educated, intelligent +men, were ready for the Duke, or believed in his cause, they would join +him. They do not join him. His only adherents are the idle, ignorant, +ill-conditioned rogues of this county, who will neither fight nor obey, +when it comes to the pinch. I do not love the present King, Martin, but +he is a better man than this Duke. The Duke will never make a king. He +may be very fit for court-life; but there is not an ounce of king in +him. If the Duke succeeds, in a year or two he will show himself so +foolish that we shall have to send for the Prince of Orange, who is a +man of real, strong wisdom. We count on that same prince to deliver us +from James, when the time is ripe. It is not ripe, yet. I am telling you +bitter, stern truth, Martin. Now then. Let me have your promise not to +continue in the service of this doomed princeling, your master. Eh? What +shall it be?” + +“No,” I said, “that's desertion.” + +“Not at all,” he answered. “It is a custom of war. Come now. As a +prisoner of war, give me your parole.” + +“You said just now that I was not a prisoner of war,” I answered. + +“Very well, then,” he said. “I am a magistrate. I commit you add +suspected person. Hart! Hart!” (Here he called in a man-servant.) “Just +see that this young sprig keeps out of mischief. Think it over, Mr. +Martin. Think it over.” + +In a couple of minutes I was back in my prison cells, locked in for the +night, with neither lamp nor candle. A cot had been made up for me in a +corner of the room. Supper was laid for me on the table, which had been +brought back to its place. There was nothing for it but to grope to bed +in the twilight, wondering how soon I could get away to what I still +believed to be a righteous cause in which my father wished me to fight. +I slept soundly after my day of adventure. I dreamed that I rode into +London behind the Duke, amid all the glory of victory, with the people +flinging flowers at us. But dreams go by contraries, the wise women say. + +I was a full fortnight, or a little more, a prisoner in that house. +They treated me very kindly. Aurelia was like an elder sister. Old Sir +Travers used to jest at my being a rebel. But I was a prisoner, shut +in, watched, kept close. The kindness jarred upon me. It was treating +me like a child, when I was no longer a child. I had for some wild weeks +been doing things which few men have the chance of doing. Perhaps, if I +had confided all that I felt to Aurelia, she would have cleared away my +troubles, made me see that the Duke's cause was wrong, that my father +would wish his son well out of civil broils, however just, that I had +better give the promise that they asked from me. But I never confided +really fully in her. I moped a good deal, much worried in my mind. I +began to get a lot of unworthy fancies into my head, silly fancies, +which an honest talk would have scattered at once. I began to think from +their silence about the Duke's doings that his affairs were prospering, +that he was conquering, or had conquered, that I was being held by this +loyalist family as a hostage. It was silly of me; but although in many +ways I was a skilled man of affairs, I had only the brain of a child, I +could not see the absurdity of what I came to believe. It worried me so +much that at the end of my imprisonment I became very feverish; really +ill from anxiety, as prisoners often are. I refused food for the latter +part of one day, hoping to frighten my captors. They did not notice it, +so I had my pains for nothing. + +I went to bed very early; but I could not sleep. I fidgeted about till +I was unusually wakeful. Then I got out of bed to try if there was a +way of escape by the old-fashioned chimney, barred across as it was, +at intervals, by strong old iron bars. I had never thought the chimney +possible, having examined it before, when I first came to that house; +but my fever made me think all things possible; so up I got, hoping that +I should have light enough to work by. + + + +CHAPTER XXII. THE PRIEST'S HOLE + +It was too dark to do much that night, but I spent an hour in picking +mortar from the bricks into which the lowest iron bar had been let. +After a brief sleep I woke in the first of the light (at about one +o'clock) ready to go at it again. My fever was hot upon me. I don't +think that I was quite sane that day; but all my reason seemed to burn +up into one bright point, escape, escape at all costs, then, at the +instant. I must tell you that the chimney, like most old chimneys, was +big enough for a big boy to scramble up, in order to sweep it. For some +reason, the owners of the house had barred the chimney across so that +this could not be done. They swept it, probably, in the effective +old-fashioned way by shooting a blank charge of powder from a +blunderbuss straight up the opening. The first two iron bars were so +placed that it was only necessary to remove one to make room for my +body. Further up there were others, more close together. The fire had +not been lighted for many years; there was no soot in the passage. There +was a jackdaw's nest high up. I could see the old jackdaw looking down +at me. Up above her head was a little square of sky. I did not doubt +that when I got to the top I should be able to scramble out of that +square on to the leads, then down by a water-spout, evading the +sentries, over the garden wall to freedom. After half an hour of mortar +picking I got one end of the lowest iron bar out of its socket. Then I +picked out the mortar from the other end, working the bar about like a +lever, to grind the fulcrum into dust. Soon I had the bar so loose that +I was able to thrust it to one side, leaving a passage big enough for my +body. + +I was very happy when this was done. I went back to the room to make up +a packet of food to take with me. This I thrust into an inner pocket, +before launching out up the hole. When I had cleaned up the mess of +mortar, I started up the chimney, carefully replacing the bar behind +me. Soon I was seven or eight feet above the room, trying to get at the +upper bars. I was scrambling about for a foothold, when I noticed, to +my left, an iron bar or handle, well concealed from below by projecting +bricks. I seized hold of it with my left hand, very glad of the support +it offered, when, with a dull grating noise, it slid downwards under my +weight, drawing with it the iron panel to which it was clamped. I had +come upon a secret chamber in the chimney; there at my side was an +opening big enough for a man's body. I was pretty well startled by it, +not only by the suddenness of the discovery, but from the fear I had +lest it should lead to some inhabited room, where my journey would be +brought to an end. I peered into it well, before I ventured to enter. +It was a little low room, about five feet square, lit by two loopholes, +which were concealed from outside by the great growth of ivy on the side +of the house. I clambered into it with pleasure, keeping as quiet as I +could. It was a dirty little room, with part of its floor rotten from +rain which had beaten in through the loopholes. It had not been used for +a great while. The pallet bed against the wall was covered with rotten +rags, dry as tinder. There were traces of food, who could say how +ancient, in a dish by the bed. There was a little crucifix, with a +broken neck-chain, lying close to the platter. Some priest who had used +this priest-hole years before had left it there in his hurry; I wondered +how. Something of the awe which had been upon him then seemed to linger +in the place. Many men had lain with beating hearts in that room; the +room seemed to remember. I have never been in a place which made one's +heart move like that room. Well. The priest's fears were dead as the +priest by this time. Nothing but the wreck of his dinner, perhaps the +last he ever ate, remained to tell of him, beside the broken symbol of +his belief. I shut-to the little panel-door by which I had entered, so +that I might not have the horrible fancy that the old priest's shaven +head was peering up the chimney at me, to see what I was doing in his +old room, long since given over to the birds. + +As I expected, there was a way of escape from the hiding-place. A big +stone in the wall seemed to project unnecessarily; the last comer to +that room had shut the door carelessly; otherwise I might never have +found it. Seeing the projecting stone, I took it for a clue feeling all +round it, till I found that underneath it there was a groove for finger +tips. The stone was nothing more than a large, cunningly fashioned +drawer, which pulled out, showing a passage leading down, down, along +narrow winding steps, just broad enough for one man to creep down at a +time. The stairs were more awesome than the room, for they were dark. I +could not see where they led; but I meant to go through this adventure, +now that I had begun it. So down I crept cautiously, clinging to the +wall, feeling with my feet as I went, lest there should be no step, +suddenly, but a black pit, far down, into which a man might fall +headlong, on to who knows what horrors. I counted the steps. I thought +that they would never end. There were thirty-seven altogether. They +brought me to a dark sort of room, with damp earth for its floor, upon +which water slowly dropped from some unseen stalactite. I judged that +I must be somewhere under the bath-chamber, not more than ten feet from +the abbot's old fish-pond. If there was a way out I felt that it must +be to my left, under the garden; not to my right, which would lead back +under the body of the house. + +Very cautiously I felt along to my left, till I found that there was +indeed a passage; but one so low that I had to stoop to get along it. A +few steps further brought me with a shock against a wall, a sad surprise +to me, for I thought that I was on the road to safety. When I recovered +from my fear I felt along the wall till I found that the passage +zigzagged like a badger's earth. It turned once sharply to the right, +going up a couple of steps, then again sharply to the left, going up a +few more steps, then again to the right up one step more, to a broader +open stretch, lit by one or two tiny chinks, more cheering to me than +you can imagine. I guessed that I was passing at last under the garden, +having gone right below the house's foundations. The chinks of light +seemed to me to come from holes worn in the roof by rabbits or rats. +They were pleasant things to see after all that groping in the blackness +of night. On I went cautiously, feeling my way before me, till suddenly +I stopped dead, frightened terribly, for close to me, almost within +touch as it seemed, some men were talking to each other. They were +evidently sitting just above my head, in the cool morning, watching +for me to come through my window, as I suppose. They were some of Sir +Travers's sentries. A moment's thought told me that I had little to +fear from them, if I moved quietly in my burrow. However, as my walk was +often noisy, through stumblings on stones, I waited till they moved off, +which was not for some minutes. One of the men was asking the other what +was the truth about the Duke. + +“Why,” his mate answered, “they say as he got beat back coming towards +London. They say he be going to Bridgewater, now, to make it a castle, +like; or perhaps he be a coming to Taunton. They say he have only a mob, +like, left to en, what with all this rain. But I do-an't know. He be +very like to come here agen; so as us'll have to watch for our stock.” + +“Ah?” said the first. “They did say as there was soldiers come to +Evilminster. So as to shut en off, like. I seed fires out that way, +myself, like camp-fires, afore it grew light. They do say the soldiers +be all for the Duke.” + +“Yes,” the other answered, “he be very like to win if it come to a +battle. He'd a got on to London, I dare-say, if the roads had but been +dry.” + +“What do ee say to a bit of tobaccy, master?” said the first, after a +pause. + +“Why, very well,” said the other. At this instant, without any warning, +something in the wall of my passage gave way, some bit of rotten mortar +which held up a stone, or something of the sort. At any rate, a stone +fell out, with a little rush of rotten plaster, making a good deal of +noise, though of course it seemed more to me than to the men outside. + +“What ever in the world was that?” said one of them. + +“I dunno,” said the other. “It seemed to come from down below somewhere, +under the earth, like. Do you think as it could be a rabbit?” + +“It did sound like a stone falling out of a wall,” came the answer. “I +dunno. Where could it a come from?” + +They seemed to search about for some trace of a rabbit; but not finding +any, they listened for another stone to fall. + +“I tell you what I think,” said the first man. “I believe as there be +underground passages all over these here gardens. Some of them walks +sound just as hollow as logs if you do stamp on 'em. There was very +queer doings here in the old monks' time; very queer. Some day I mean to +grub about a bit, master. For my old grandmother used always to say as +the monks buried a lot of treasure hereabouts in the old time.” + +“Ah?” said the other. “Then shall us get a spade quiet like, to see if +it be beneath.” The other hesitated, while my heart sank. I very nearly +went back to my prison, thinking that all was over. + +“No,” said his comrade. “Us'll ask Sir Travers first. He do-an't like +people grubbing about. Some of his forefathers as they call them weren't +very good, I do hear, neither. He do-an't want none of their little +games brought to light, like.” + +After this, the men moved off, to some other part of their beat. I went +on along the passage quickly, till suddenly I fell with a crash down +three or four steps into a dirty puddle, knocking my head as I fell. I +could see no glimmer of light from this place; but I groped my way out, +up a few more steps further on into a smaller, dirtier passage than the +one which I had just left. After this I had to crawl like a badger in +his earth, with my back brushing against the roof, over many masses of +broken brickwork most rough to the palms of my hands. All of a sudden +I smelt a pleasant stable-smell. I heard the rattle of a halter drawn +across manger bars. I heard a horse paw upon the ground quite close to +me. A dim, but regular chink of light showed in front of me, level with +my head as crawled. Peering through it, I saw that I was looking into a +stable, almost level with the floor; the passage had come to an end. + +By getting my fingers into the crack through which I peered, I found +that I could swing round some half a dozen stones, which were mortared +together, so as to form a revolving door. It worked with difficulty, +as though no one had passed through by that way for many years; but +it worked for me, after a little hard pushing. I scrambled through the +narrow opening into a roomy old stable, where some cart-horses peered +at me with wonder, as I rose to my feet. After getting out, I shut to +my door behind me, so firmly that I could not open it again; there must +have been some spring or catch which I could not set to work. Two steps +more took me out of the horses' stalls into the space behind, where, on +a mass of hay, lay a carter, fast asleep, with the door-key in his hand. +By his side lay a pitchfork. He was keeping guard there, prepared to +resist Monmouth's pillagers. + +He slept so heavily that I was tempted to take the key from his hand. +Twice I made little half steps forward to take it; but each time +something in the man's look daunted me. He was a surly-looking man who, +if roused suddenly, in a locked stable, might lay about him without +waiting to see who roused him. He stirred in his sleep as I drew near +him for the second time; so I gave up the key as a bad job. The loft +seemed to be my only chance; as there was only this one big locked +double door upon the lower floor, I clambered up the steep ladder to the +loft, hoping that my luck there might be better, but resolved, if the +worst came, to hide there in the hay until the carter took the horses to +work, leaving the doors open. + +I had hardly set my foot upon the loft floor, when one of the horses, +hearing some noise outside, or being moved by some evil spirit, whinnied +loudly, rattling his halter. The noise was enough to arouse an army. It +startled the carter from his bed. I heard him leap to his feet with an +oath; I heard him pad round the stable, talking to the horses in turn; I +heard him unlock the door to see what was stirring. I stood stock-still +in my tracks, not daring to stir towards the cover of the hay at the +farther end of the loft. I heard him walk slowly, grunting heavily, +to the foot of the ladder, where he stopped to listen for any further +signal. If he had come up he must have caught me. I could not have +escaped. But though he seemed suspicious he did not venture further. He +walked slowly back to his bed, grunting discontentedly. In a few minutes +he was sound asleep again; for farming people sleep like sailors, as +though sleep were a sort of spirit muffling them suddenly in a thick +felt blanket. After he had gone off to sleep, I took off my boots, in +order to put them on under my stockings, for the greater quiet which +that muffling gives to the tread. Then I peered about the loft for a way +of escape. + +There were big double doors to this upper loft, through which the hay +could be passed from a waggon standing near the wall. These doors were +padlocked on the inside; there was no opening them; the staples were +much too firm for me to remove without a crowbar. The other openings in +the walls were mere loophole slits, about four feet long but only a few +inches broad. There were enough of these to make the place light. By +their light I could see that there was no way of escape for me except +by the main door. I was almost despairing of escape from this prison of +mine, when I saw that the loft had a hayshoot, leading downwards. When +I saw it I fondly hoped that it led to some outer stable or cart-shed, +separated from that in which the carter slept. A glance down its smooth +shaft showed me that it led to the main stable. I could see the heads +of the meditative horses, bent over the empty mangers exactly as if they +were saying grace. Beyond them I saw the boots of the carter dangling +over the edge of the trusses of hay on which he slept. I stepped back +from this shaft quickly because I thought that I might be seen from +below. My foot went into the nest of a sitting hen, right on to the +creature's back. Up she started, giving me such a fright that I nearly +screamed. She flew with a cackling shriek which set all the blackbirds +chippering in the countryside. Round the loft she scattered, calling +her hideous noise. Up jumped the carter, down came his pitchfork with +a thud. His great boots clattered over the stable to the ladder. Clump, +clump, he came upstairs, with his pitchfork prongs gleaming over his +head like lanceheads. I saw his head show over the opening of the loft. +There was not a second to lose. His back of course was still towards me, +as the ladder was mercifully nailed to the wall. Before he turned I slid +over the mouth of the shaft down into the hayrack of the old brute who +had whinnied. I lit softly; but I certainly shocked that old mare's +feelings. In a second, before she had time to kick, I was outside her +stall, darting across the stable to the key, which lay on the truss of +hay, mercifully left there by its guardian. In another second the lock +had turned. I was outside, in the glorious open fields again. Swiftly +but silently I drew the key out of the lock. One second more sufficed +to lock that door from without. The carter was a prisoner there, locked +safely in with his horses. I was free. The key was in my pocket. Yonder +lay the great combes which hid Taunton from me. I waved my hat towards +them; then, with a wild joyous rush, I scrambled behind the cover of the +nearest hedge, along which I ran hard for nearly a quarter of a mile. + +I stopped for a few minutes to rest among some ferns, while I debated +how to proceed. I changed the arrangement of my stockings; I also dusted +my very dirty clothes, all filthy from that horrid passage underground. +“Now,” I said to myself, “there must be many ways to Taunton. One way, +I know, leads along this valley, past Chard there, where the houses are. +The other way must lie across these combes, high up. Which way shall I +choose, I wonder?” A moment's thought showed me that the combes would +be unfrequented, while the valley road, being the easy road, which (as I +knew) the Duke's army had chosen, would no doubt be full of people, some +of them (perhaps) the King's soldiers, coming up from Bridport. If I +went by that road my pursuers would soon hear of me, even if I managed +to get past the watchers on the road. On the other hand, Aurelia would +probably know that I should choose the combe road. Still, even if she +sent out mounted men, she would find me hard to track, since the combes +were lonely, so lonely that for hours together you can walk there +without meeting anybody. There would be plentiful cover among the combes +in case I wished to lie low. Besides, I had a famous start, a five +hours' start; for I should not be missed until eight o'clock. It could +not then have been much more than half-past two. In five hours an active +boy, even if he knew not the road, might put some half a dozen miles +behind him. I say only half a dozen miles, because the roads were the +roughest of rough mud-tracks, still soft from the rains. As I did not +know the way, I knew that I might count on going wrong, taking wrong +turns, etc. As I wished to avoid people, I counted on travelling most +of the way across country, trusting to luck to find my way among the +fields. So that, although in five hours I should travel perhaps ten or +twelve miles, I could not count on getting more than six miles towards +Taunton. + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. FREE + +For the first hour or two, as no one would be about so early, I thought +it safe to use the road. I put my best foot foremost, going up the great +steep combe, with Chard at my back. + +The road was one of the loneliest I have ever trodden. It went winding +up among barren-looking combes which seemed little better than waste +land. There were few houses, so few that sometimes, on a bit of rising +ground, when the road lifted clear of the hedges, one had to look about +to see any dwelling of men. There was little cultivation, either. It was +nearly all waste, or scanty pasture. A few cows cropped by the wayside +near the lonely cottages. A few sheep wandered among the ferns. It was +a very desolate land to lie within so few miles of England's richest +valleys. I walked through it hurriedly, for I wished to get far from my +prison before my escape was discovered. No one was there to see me; +the lie of the valley below gave me my direction, roughly, but closely +enough. After about an hour of steady, fairly good walking, I pulled up +by a little tiny brook for breakfast. I ate quickly, then hurried on, +for I dared not waste time. I turned out of the narrow cart-tracks into +what seemed to be a highroad. + +I dipped down a hollow, past a pond where geese were feeding, then +turned to a stiff steep hill, which never seemed to end for miles. The +country grew lonelier at every step; there were no houses there; only +a few rabbits tamely playing in the outskirts of the coverts. A jay +screamed in the clump of trees at the hill-top; it seemed the proper +kind of voice for a waste like that. Still further on, I sat down to +rest at the brink of the great descent, which led, as I guessed, as I +could almost see, to the plain where Taunton lay, waiting for the Duke's +army to garrison her. There were thick woods to my right at this point, +making cover so dense that no hounds would have tried to break through +it, no matter how strong a scent might lead them. It was here, as I sat +for a few minutes to rest, that a strange thing happened. + +I was sitting at the moment with my back to the wood, looking over +the desolate country towards a tiny cottage far off on the side of the +combe. A big dog-fox came out of the cover from behind me, so quietly +that I did not hear him. He trotted past me in the road; I do not think +that he saw me till he was just opposite. Then he stopped to examine me, +as though he had never seen such a thing before. He was puzzled by me, +but he soon decided that I was not worth bothering about, for he made +no stay. He padded slowly on towards Chard, evidently well-pleased with +himself. Suddenly he stopped dead, with one pad lifted, a living image +of alert tension. He was alarmed by something coming along the road by +which I had come. He turned his head slightly, as though to make sure +with his best ear. Then with a single beautiful lollopping bound he +was over the hedge to safety, going in that exquisite curving rhythm of +movement which the fox has above all English animals. For a second, I +wondered what it was that had startled him. Then, with a quickness of +wit which would have done credit to an older mind, I realized that there +was danger coming on the road towards me, danger of men or of dogs, +since nothing else in this country frightens a fox. It flashed in upon +me that I must get out of sight at once; before that danger hove in view +of me. I gave a quick rush over the fence into the tangle, through which +I drove my way till I was snug in an open space under some yew trees, +surrounded on all sides by brambles. I shinned up one of the great yew +trees, till I could command a sight of the road, while lying hidden +myself in the profuse darkness of the foliage. Here I drew out my +pistol, ready for what might come. I suppose I had not been in my +hiding-place for more than thirty seconds, when over the brow of the +hill came Sir Travers Carew, at a full gallop, cheering on a couple of +hounds, who were hot on my scent. Aurelia rode after him, on her famous +chestnut mare. Behind her galloped two men, whom I had not seen before. +In an instant, they were swooped down to the place where the dog-fox had +passed. The hounds gave tongue when they smelt the rank scent of their +proper game; they were unused to boy-hunting. They did not hesitate an +instant, but swung off as wild as puppies over the hedge, after the fox. +The horsemen paused for a second, surprised at the sudden sharp turn; +but they followed the hounds' lead, popping over the fence most nimbly, +not waiting to look for my tracks in the banks of the hedge. They +streamed away after the fox, to whom I wished strong legs. I knew that +with two young hounds they would never catch him, but I hoped that he +would give them a good run before the sun killed the scent. I looked +at the sun, now gloriously bright over all the world, putting a bluish +glitter on to the shaking oak leaves of the wood. How came it that they +had discovered my flight so soon since it could not be more than six +o'clock, if as much? I wondered if it had been the old carter, who had +never really seen me. It might have been the old carter; but doubtless +he drummed for a good while on the door of the stable before anybody +heard him. Or it might have been one of the garden sentries. One of the +sentries might well have peeped in at the window of my room to make sure +that I was up to no pranks. He could have seen from the window that my +bed was empty. If he had noticed that, he could have unlocked my door to +make sure, after which it would not have taken more than a few minutes +to start after me. I learned afterwards that the sentry had alarmed the +house at a little before five o'clock. The carter, being only half-awake +when he came after me, suspected nothing till the other farm-hands came +for the horses, at about six o'clock, when, the key being gone, he had +to break the lock, vowing that the rattens had took his key from him in +the night. My disappearance puzzled everybody, because I had hidden my +tracks so carefully that no one noticed at first how the chimney bars +had been loosened. No one in that house knew of the secret room, so that +the general impression was that I had either squeezed myself through the +window, or blown myself out through the keyhole by art-magic. The hounds +had been laid along the road to Chard, with the result that they had hit +my trail after a few minutes of casting about. + +Now that they were after me, I did not know what to do. I dared not +go on towards Taunton; for who knew how soon the squire would find his +error, by viewing the fox? He was too old a huntsman not to cast back +to where he had left the road, as soon as he learned that his hounds +had changed foxes. I concluded that I had better stay where I was, +throughout that day, carefully hidden in the yew-tree. In the evening +I might venture further if the coast seemed clear. It was easy to make +such a resolution; but not so easy to keep to it; for fifteen hours is a +long time for a boy to wait. I stayed quiet for some hours, but I heard +no more of my hunters. I learned later that they had gone from me, in +a wide circuit, to cut round upon the Taunton roads, so as to intercept +me, or to cause me to be intercepted in case I passed by those ways. +The hounds gave up after chasing the fox for three miles. The old squire +thought that they stopped because the sun had destroyed the scent. With +a little help from an animal I had beaten Aurelia once more. When I grew +weary of sitting up in the yew tree, clambered down, intending to push +on through the wood until I came to the end of it. It was mighty +thick cover to push through for the first half mile; then I came to a +cart-track, made by wood-cutters, which I followed till it took me out +of the wood into a wild kind of sheep-pasture. It was now fully nine +in the evening, but the country was so desolate it might have been +undiscovered land. I might have been its first settler, newly come there +from the seas. It taught me something of the terrors of war that day's +wandering towards Taunton. I realized all the men of these parts had +wandered away after the Duke, for the sake of the excitement, after +living lonely up there in the wilds. Their wives had followed the army +also. The while population (scanty as it was) had moved off to look for +something more stirring than had hitherto come to them. I wandered +on slowly, taking my time, getting my direction fairly clear from the +glimpses which I sometimes caught of the line of the highway. At a +little after noon I ate the last of my victuals near a spring. I rested +after my dinner, then pushed on again, till I had won to a little +spinney only four miles from Taunton, where my legs began to fail under +me. + +I crept into the spinney, wondering if it contained some good shelter in +which I could sleep for the night. I found a sort of dry, high pitched +bank, with the grass all worn off it, which I thought would serve my +turn, if the rain held off. As for supper, I determined to shoot a +rabbit with my pistol. For drink, there was a plenty of small brooks +within half a mile of the little enclosure. After I had chosen my camp, +I was not very satisfied with it. The cover near by was none too thick. +So I moved off to another part where the bushes grew more closely +together. As I was walking leisurely along, I smelt a smell of something +cooking, I heard voices, I heard something clink, as though two tin cups +were being jangled. Before I could draw back, a man thrust through the +undergrowth, challenging me with a pistol. Two other men followed him, +talking in low, angry tones. They came all round me with very murderous +looks. They were the filthiest looking scarecrows ever seen out of a +wheat-field. + +“Why,” said one of them, lowering his pistol, “it be the Duke's young +man, as we seed at Lyme.” They became more friendly at that; but still +they seemed uneasy, not very sure of my intentions. + +“Where is the Duke?” I asked after a long awkward pause. “Is he at +Taunton?” They looked from one to the other with strange looks which I +did not understand. + +“The Duke be at Bridgewater,” said one of them in a curious tone. “What +be you doing away from the Duke?” + +“Why,” I said, “I was taken prisoner. I escaped this morning.” + +“Yes?” they said with some show of eagerness. “Be there many soldiers +hereaway, after us?” + +“No. Not many,” I said. “Are you coming from the Duke?” + +“Yes,” said one of them, “we left en at Bridgewater. We have been having +enough of fighting for the crown. We been marching in mud up to our +knees. We been fighting behind hedges. We been retreating for the last +week. So now us be going home, if us can get there. Glad if we never +sees a fight again.” + +“Well,” I said, “I must get to the Duke if I can. How far is it to +Bridgewater?” + +“Matter of fifteen mile,” they said, after a short debate. “You'll never +get there tonight. Nor perhaps tomorrow, since we hear the soldiers be a +coming.” + +“I'll get some of the way tonight,” I said; but my heart sank at the +thought; for I was tired out. + +“No, young master,” said one of the men kindly, “you stop with us for +tonight. Come to supper with us. Us 'ave rabbits on the fire.” Their +fortnight of war had given them a touch of that comradeship which +camp-life always gives. They took me with them to their camp-fire, where +they fed me on a wonderful mess of rabbits boiled with herbs. The men +had bread. One of them had cider. Our feast there was most pleasant; or +would have been, had not the talk of these deserters been so melancholy. +They were flying to their homes like hunted animals, after a fortnight +of misery which had altered their faces forever. They had been +in battle; they had retreated through mud; they had seen all the +ill-fortune of war. They did all that they could to keep me from my +purpose; but I had made up my mind to rejoin my master; I was not to be +moved. Before settling down to sleep for the night I helped the men to +set wires for rabbits, an art which I had not understood till then, +but highly useful to a lad so fated to adventurous living as myself. We +slept in various parts of the spinney, wherever there was good shelter; +but we were all so full of jangling nerves that our sleep was most +uneasy. We woke very early, visited our wires, then breakfasted heartily +on the night's take. The men insisted on giving me a day's provision +to take with me, which I took, though grudgingly, for they had none too +much for themselves, poor fellows. Just before we parted I wrote a note +to Sir Travers, on a leaf of my pocketbook. “Dear Sir Travers,” I wrote, +“These men are well-known to me as honest subjects. They have had great +troubles on their road. I hope that you will help them to get home. +Please remember me very kindly to your niece.” After folding this +very neatly I gave the precious piece of impudence to one of the men. +“There,” I said, “if you are stopped, insist on being carried before Sir +Travers. He knows me. I am sure that he will help you as far as he +can.” For this the men thanked me humbly. I learned, too, that it was of +service to them. It saved them all from arrest later in the same day. + +Having bidden my hosts farewell, I wandered on, keeping pretty well in +cover. I saw a patrol of the King's dragoons in one of the roads near +which I walked. The nets were fast closing in on my master: there were +soldiers coming upon him from every quarter save the west, which was +blocked too, as it happened, by ships of war in the Channel. This +particular patrol of dragoons caught sight of me. I saw a soldier +looking over a gate at me; but as I was only a boy, seemingly out for +birdsnests, he did not challenge me, so that by noon I was safe in +Taunton. I have no clear memory of Taunton, except that it was full of +people, mostly women. There were little crowds in the streets, little +crowds of women, surrounding muddy, tired men who had come in from the +Duke. People were going about in a hurried, aimless way which showed +that they were scared. Many houses were shut up. Many men were working +on the city walls, trying to make the place defensible. If ever a town +had the fear of death upon it that town was Taunton, then. As far as I +could make out it was not the actual war that it feared; though that +it feared pretty strongly, as the looks on the women's faces showed. It +feared that the Duke's army would come back to camp there, to eat them +all up, every penny, every blade of corn, like an army of locusts. +Sometimes, while I was there, men galloped in with news, generally +false, like most warmews, but eagerly sought for by those who even now +saw their husbands shot dead in ranks by the fierce red-coats under +their drunken Dutch general. Sometimes the news was that the army was +pressing in to cut off the Duke from Taunton; that the dragoons were +shooting people on the road; that they were going to root out the whole +population without mercy. At another time news came that Monmouth was +marching in to music, determined to hold Taunton till the town was a +heap of cinders. Then one, bloody with his spurred horse's gore, cried +aloud that the King was dead, shot in the heart by one of his brother's +servants. Then another came calling all to prayer. All this uproar +caused a hurrying from one crowd to another. Here a man preached +fervently to a crowd of enthusiasts. Here men ran from a prayer-meeting +to crowd about a messenger. Bells jangled from the churches; the noise +of the picks never ceased in the trenches; the taverns were full; the +streets swarmed; the public places were now thronged, now suddenly +empty. Here came the aldermen in their robes, scared faces among the +scarlet, followed by a mob praying for news, asking in frenzy for +something certain, however terrible. There several in a body clamoured +at a citizen's door in the like fever of doubt. There was enough agony +of mind in Taunton that day to furnish out any company of tragedians. +We English, an emotional people by nature, are best when the blow has +fallen. We bear neither doubt nor rapture wisely. Our strength is shown +in troublous times in which other people give way to despair. + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. THE END + +Among all the confusion, I learned certainly from some deserters that +the Duke was at Bridgewater, waiting till his men had rested, before +trying to break through to the north, to his friends in Chester. He had +won a bad name for himself among his friends. Nobody praised him. The +Taunton people, who had given him such a splendid welcome ten days +before, now cursed him for having failed; they knew too well what sort +of punishment was sure to fall upon them, directly the fighting came to +an end. Somehow all their despairing talk failed to frighten me. I was +not scared by all the signs of panic in the streets. I was too young to +understand fully; but besides that I was buoyed up by the belief that +I had done a fine thing in escaping from prison in order to serve the +cause dear to my heart. My heart told me that I was going to a glorious +victory in the right cause. I cannot explain it. I felt my father in my +heart urging me to go forward. I would not have drawn back for all the +King's captains in a company riding out against me together. I felt that +these people were behaving absurdly; they should keep a brave patient +face against their troubles. Tomorrow or the next day would see us in +triumph, beating our enemies back to London, to the usurper's den in +Whitehall. + +It drew towards sunset before I had found a means to get to Bridgewater. +The innkeepers who in times of peace sent daily carriers thither, with +whom a man could travel in comfort for a few pence, had now either lost +their horses, or feared to risk them. No carriers had gone either to +Bridgewater or to Bristol since the Duke marched in on the fourth day +of his journey; nor had the carriers come in as usual from those places; +the business of the town was at a standstill. I asked at several inns, +but that was the account given to me. There was no safety on the roads. +The country was overrun by thieves, who stole horses in the name of the +Duke or of the King; nothing was safe anywhere. The general hope of the +people was for Monmouth to be beaten soon, or to be victorious soon. +They had lost quite enough by him; they wanted the rebellion over. + +At last, just when I had begun to think the thing hopeless, I found an +honest Quaker about to ride to Bridgewater with a basket of Bibles for +the Duke's men. He did not ask me what my business at Bridgewater +might be; but he knew that no one would want to go there at such a time +without good cause. “Well,” he said, “if you can ride small, you shall +ride behind me, but it will be slow riding, as the horse will be heavily +laden.” He was going to start at eight o'clock, so as to travel +all night, when the marauders, whether deserters from the Duke or +ill-conditioned country people, were always less busy. I had time to +get some supper for myself in the tavern-bar before starting. Just as +we were about to ride off together, when we were in the saddle, waiting +only till some carts rolled past the yard-door, I had a fright, for +there, coming into the inn yard, was one of the troopers who had +beguiled me from the Duke's army that day at Axminster. I had no doubt +that he was going from inn to inn, asking for news of me. We began to +move through the yard as he came towards us; the clack of the horse's +feet upon the cobbles made him look up; but though he stared at me hard, +he did so with an occupied mind; he was in such a brown study (as it is +called) that he never recognized me. A minute later, we were riding out +of town past the trench-labourers, my heart going pit-a-pat from the +excitement of my narrow escape. I dared not ask the Quaker to go fast, +lest he should worm my story from me, but for the first three miles I +assure you I found it hard not to prod that old nag with my knife to +make him quicken his two mile an hour crawl. Often during the first +hours of the ride I heard horses coming after us at a gallop. It was +all fancy; we were left to our own devices. My pursuers, I found, +afterwards, were misled by the lies of the landlord at the inn we had +left. We were being searched for in Taunton all that fatal night, by +half a dozen of the Carew servants. + +Bridgewater had not gone to bed when we got there. The people were out +in the streets, talking in frightened clumps, expecting something. After +thanking the Quaker for his kindness in giving me a lift I asked at one +of these clumps where I could find the Duke. I was feeling so happy +at the thought of rejoining my master, after all my adventures, that I +think I never felt so happy. + +“Where can I find the Duke?” I asked. “I'm his servant, I must find +him.” + +“Find him?” said one of the talkers. “He's not here. He's marched out, +sir, with all his army, over to Sedgemoor to fight the King's army. It's +a night attack, sir.” + +I was bitterly disappointed at not having reached my journey's end; but +there was a stir in the thought of battle. I asked by which road I could +get to the place where the battle would be. The man told me to turn to +the right after crossing the river. “But,” said he, “you don't want to +get mixed up in the fighting, master. There be thousands out there on +the moor. A boy would be nowhere among all them.” + +“Yes,” said another. “Better stay here, sir. If the Duke wins he'll be +back afore breakfast. If he gets beat, you'd be best out of the way.” + +This was sound advice; but I was not in a mood to profit by it. +Something told me that the battle was to be a victory for us; so I +thanked the men, telling them that I would go out over the moor by the +road they had mentioned. As I moved away, they called out to me to mind +myself, for the King's dragoons were on the moor, as a sort of screen +in front of their camp. By the road they had mentioned I might very well +get into the King's camp without seeing anything of my master. One of +them added that the battle would begin, or might begin, long before I +got there, “if the mist don't lead en astray, like.” + +It took me some few minutes to get out of the gates across the river; +for there was a press of people crowded there. It was as dark as +a summer night ever is, that is, a sort of twilight, when I passed +through, but just at the gates were two great torches stuck into rings +in the wall. The wind made their flames waver about uncertainly, so that +sometimes you could see particular faces in the crowd, all lit in muddy +gold light for an instant, before the wavering made them dark again. +Several mounted men were there, trying to pass. Among them, in one +sudden glare, I saw Aurelia on her Arab, reined in beside Sir Travers, +whose horse was kicking out behind him. I passed them by so close that +I touched Aurelia's riding habit as I crept out of the press. They were +talking together, just behind me, as I crept from the town over the +bridge above which the summer mists clung, almost hiding the stream. +Aurelia was saying “I only hope we may be in time.” “Yes, poor boy,” + said Sir Travers. “It will be terrible if we are too late.” It gave me a +pang to hear them, for I knew that they were talking about me. + +I crept into the shelter of the bridge parapet while they rode on past +me. The mist hid them from me. The town was dark above the mist like +a city in the clouds. The stars were dim now with the coming of day. +A sheep-bell on the moor made a noise like a nightbird. A few ponies +pastured on the moor trotted away, lightly padding, scared, I suppose, +by the two riders. Then, far away, but sounding very near at hand, for +sound travels very strangely in mist, so strangely that often a very +distant noise will strike loudly, while it is scarcely heard close to, +there came a shot. Almost instantly, the air seemed full of the roar +of battle. The gun-fire broke out into a long irregular roar, a fury +of noise which roused up the city behind me, as though all the citizens +were slamming their doors to get away from it. I hurried along the road +towards the battle, praying, as I went, that my master might conquer, +that the King's troops had been caught asleep, that when I got there, +in the glory of dawn, I might find the Duke's army returning thanks in +their enemy's camp. I pressed on along the rough moor road until the +dawn came over the far horizon, driving the mists away, so that I could +see what was doing there. + +I saw a great sweep of moorland to my left, with a confused crowd of +horsemen scattering away towards a line of low hills some miles beyond. +They were riding from the firing, which filled all the nearer part of +the moor with smoke, among which I saw moving figures, sudden glimpses +of men in rank, sudden men on horseback, struggling with their horses. +The noise was worse than I had expected; it came on me with repeated +deafening shocks. I could hear cries in the lulls when the firing +slackened; then the uproar grew worse again, sounds of desperate thuds, +marking cannon shot. I heard balls going over my head with a shrill +“wheep, wheep,” which made me duck. A small iron cannon ball spun into +the road like a spinning top, scattering the dust. It wormed slowly past +me for a second, then rose up irregularly in a bound, to thud into the +ditch, where it lay still. I saw cannon coming up at a gallop, with many +horses, on the bare right flank of the battle. Another ball came just +over my head, with a scream which made my heart quite sick. I sat down +cowering under a ruined thorn-tree by the road, crying like a little +child. It must have been a moment after that when I saw a man staggering +down the road towards me, holding his side with both hands. He fell +into the road, dead, not far from me. Then others came past, some so +fearfully hurt that it was a miracle that they should walk. They came +past in a long horrible procession, men without weapons, without hands, +shot in the head, in the body, lacerated, bleeding, limping, with white +drawn faces, tottering to the town which they would never see again. I +shut my eyes, crouching well under the tree, while this fight went +on. It was nothing but a time of pain, a roaring, booming horror with +shrieks in it. I don't know how long it lasted. I only know that the +shooting seemed suddenly to pass into a thunder of horse-hoofs as +the King's dragoons came past in a charge. Right in front of me they +galloped, hacking at the fleers, leaning out from their saddles to cut +at them, leaning down to stab them, rising up to reach at those who +climbed the banks. Under that tide of cavalry the Duke's army melted. +They fought in clumps desperately. They flung away their weapons. They +fled. They rushed down desperately to meet death. It was all a medley of +broken noises, oaths, stray shots, cries, wounded men whimpering, hurt +horses screaming. The horses were the worst part of it. Perhaps you +never heard a horse scream. + +That morning's work is all very confused to me. I remember seeing men +cut down as they ran. I remember a fine horse coming past me lurching, +clattering his stirrups, before leaping into the river. I remember the +stink of powder over all the field; the strange look on the faces of +the dead; the body of a trumpeter, kneeling against a gorse-bush, shot +through the heart, with his trumpet raised to his lips, the litter +everywhere, burnt cartridges, clothes, belts, shot, all the waste of +war. They are in my mind, those memories, like scattered pictures. The +next clear memory in my mind, is of a company of cavalry in red coats, +under a fierce, white-faced man, bringing in a string of prisoners to +the King's camp. A couple of troopers jumped down to examine me. One had +the face of a savage; the other was half drunk. “You're one of them,” + they said. “Bring him on.” They twisted string about my thumbs. I +was their prisoner. They dragged me into the King's camp, where the +white-faced man sat down at a table to judge us. + +I will not talk of that butchery. The white-faced man has been judged +now, in his turn; I will say no more of him. When it came to my turn, he +would hear no words from me; I was a rebel, fit for nothing but death. +“Pistol him” was all the sentence passed on me. The soldiers laid hands +on me to drag me away, to add my little corpse to the heap outside. One +of the officers spoke up for me. “He's only a boy,” he said. “Go easy +with the boy. Don't have the poor child killed.” It was kindly spoken; +but quite carelessly. The man would have pleaded for a cat with just as +much passion. It was useless, anyway, for the colonel merely repeated +“Pistol him,” just as one would have ordered a wine at dinner. +“Burgundy.” “No, the Burgundy here is all so expensive.” “Never mind, +Burgundy.” So I was led away to stand with the next batch of prisoners +lined against a wall to be shot. My place was at the end of a line, +next to a young sullen-looking man black with powder. I did not feel +frightened, only hopeless, quite hopeless, a sort of dead feeling. I +remember looking at the soldiers getting ready to shoot us. I wondered +which would shoot me. They seemed so slow about it. There was some +hitch, I think, in filling up the line; a man had proved his innocence +or something. + +Then, the next instant, there was Aurelia dragging the white-faced man +from his table. I dimly remember him ordering me to be released, while +Sir Travers Carew gave me brandy. I remember the young sullen-looking +man's face; for he looked at me, a look of dull wonder, with a sort +of hopeless envy in it, which has wrung my heart daily, ever since. +“Mount,” said Aurelia. “Mount, Martin. For God's sake, Uncle Travers, +let us get out of this.” They were on both sides of me each giving me an +arm in the saddle, as we rode out of that field of death through Zoyland +village towards the old Abbey near Chard. + +I shall say little more, except that I never saw my master again. When +they led him to the scaffold on Tower Hill I was outward bound to +the West Indies, as private secretary to Sir Travers, newly appointed +Governor of St. Eulalie. We had many of Monmouth's men in St. Eulalie +after the Bloody Assizes; but their tale is too horrible to tell here. +You will want to know whether I ever saw Aurelia again. Not for some +years, not very often for nine years; but since then our lives have been +so mingled that when we die it will be hard to say which soul is which, +so much our spirits are each other's. So now, I have written a long +story. May we all tell our tales to the end before the pen is taken from +us. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Martin Hyde, The Duke's Messenger, by +John Masefield + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1274 *** |