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diff --git a/old/69609-0.txt b/old/69609-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 96ef4a1..0000000 --- a/old/69609-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6821 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Martin of Old London, by Herbert -Strang - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Martin of Old London - -Author: Herbert Strang - -Release Date: December 23, 2022 [eBook #69609] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Al Haines, John Routh & the online Distributed Proofreaders - Canada team at https://www.pgdpcanada.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARTIN OF OLD LONDON *** - - - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - - MARTIN OF OLD - LONDON - - By - HERBERT STRANG - - - - [Illustration] - - - OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS - LONDON : HUMPHREY MILFORD - - - - - STORIES FOR BOYS - _by_ HERBERT STRANG - - _Adventures of Dick Trevanion, The_ - _Adventures of Harry Rochester, The_ - _A Gentleman-at-arms_ - _Air Patrol, The_ - _Air Scout, The_ - _Barclay of the Guides_ - _Boys of the Light Brigade_ - _Humphrey Bold_ - _Jack Brown in China_ - _Kobo_ - _One of Clive’s Heroes_ - _Palm Tree Island_ - _Rob the Ranger_ - _Samba_ - _Settlers and Scouts_ - _Sultan Jim_ - _Tom Burnaby_ - _Winning His Name_ - _With Drake on the Spanish Main_ - - - REPRINTED 1936 IN GREAT BRITAIN AT THE - UNIVERSITY PRESS, OXFORD, BY JOHN JOHNSON - - - - - _CONTENTS_ - - PAGE - - I. THE WAITING BOAT 5 - II. MARTIN AT HOME 8 - III. THE ASSAULT 13 - IV. MARTIN LOSES HIS JOB 16 - V. THE NOISE IN THE NIGHT 22 - VI. MARTIN’S PASSENGER 28 - VII. A BLOW IN THE DARK 33 - VIII. THE FACE AT THE WINDOW 39 - IX. AN ADVENTURE IN PUDDING LANE 44 - X. A MYSTERIOUS VISITOR 48 - XI. MR. SLOCUM AGAIN 54 - XII. THE BRASS-BOUND BOX 59 - XIII. BLACKBEARD VISITS THE BAKER 64 - XIV. ON BOARD THE _SANTA MARIA_ 69 - XV. COFFEE FOR TWO 74 - XVI. WHAT MARTIN FOUND 80 - XVII. STOP, THIEF! 84 - XVIII. SALLY TAKES A HAND 90 - XIX. GUNDRA DISAPPEARS 94 - XX. FIRE! FIRE! 100 - XXI. WHAT SUSAN FOUND 105 - XXII. THE EMPTY ROOM 110 - XXIII. 'PRENTICES TO THE RESCUE 115 - XXIV. MR. SLOCUM MOVES AT LAST 121 - XXV. MARTIN FOLLOWS 126 - XXVI. PRISONERS 131 - XXVII. MARTIN FINDS A WAY 136 - XXVIII. THE BOYS ESCAPE 142 - XXIX. MARTIN USES HIS WITS 147 - XXX. THE BOYS SWIM FOR IT 152 - XXXI. GOLLOP MAKES A DISCOVERY 157 - XXXII. THE PURSUIT 163 - XXXIII. AT GRIPS AT LAST 168 - XXXIV. GOLLOP AT BAY 174 - XXXV. MARTIN TO THE RESCUE 177 - XXXVI. MARTIN’S ORDEAL 182 - XXXVII. ALL’S WELL 188 - - Martin of Old London - - - - - CHAPTER THE FIRST - - - THE WAITING BOAT - -One fine evening in the August of the year 1666, Martin Leake, aged -fourteen and a few months, had strolled down to the riverside for a -breath of air. - -It had been a terribly hot day. The whole month had been fine and dry; -the narrow streets of London were stuffy and smelly, and it was a relief -to escape from them to the bank of the broad Thames, where the easterly -wind carried in a sharp salt tang from the sea. - -The river always had a charm for Martin. In those days it might have -been called the main highway of London City, and he loved to watch the -wherries laden with passengers, and the tall ships lying at anchor or -floating up or down on the tide. - -He sauntered on and on, every now and then exchanging a nod or smile or -cheery word with some waterman he knew. But most of the watermen were -busy on the river, and as the evening went on Martin met fewer and fewer -people. - -Presently he sat down to rest near the head of a flight of stairs that -led down to the water. A broad stone post gave support for his back, and -leaning against it he watched the sun sinking into a fiery sky, and the -lights that began to twinkle on the ships moored in the stream. - -It was very peaceful. The only sounds that reached his ears were the -plash of oars in passing boats and the voices of the watermen and their -passengers. - -Turning to look in the other direction, he noticed for the first time a -ship’s boat straining at her painter, which was made fast to a ring at -the foot of the stairs. In the boat sat, or rather crouched, a solitary -seaman—a man with a very dark face and long, coal-black hair. His head -was bent forward on his crossed arms; it seemed that the light rise and -fall of the boat on the tide had rocked him to sleep. He wore a sailor’s -long red cap and an orange-coloured jersey. - -A waterman passing at the moment stopped and smiled as he glanced at the -slumbering figure. Observing Martin, he said: - -“They sleep like cats, these foreigners.” - -“He’s a foreigner, then?” - -“For sure: out of the Portugal ship repairing at Deptford. Her -mizzen-mast, they say, was shot away by a French privateer nigh the -Goodwins. Very bold these Frenchies are of late, though I did hear as -the Duke of York have give ’em a good drubbing.” - -He said Good-night and passed on. - -All was still again. The glow faded from the sky. Martin’s eyes were -attracted by a three-master that glided out of the dusk, dropping down -with the tide. He watched her graceful shape threading her way among the -smaller craft on the river, and wondered where she was bound for, what -adventures she would meet with on her voyage. - -She had almost disappeared when Martin was roused from his reverie by -the sound of footsteps on the cobbled roadway behind him. Peeping round -the edge of the post, he saw, in the gloom, a man come forward to the -head of the stairs. There he paused and threw a look round in the manner -of a person who is ill at ease. - -Martin caught a glimpse of his face, and, with a start of surprise, -shrank back into the shelter of the post. The man had not seen him. Next -moment he stepped down the stairs, and in a low voice hailed the seaman -slumbering in the boat. - -There was no answer. The newcomer called again, more urgently. This time -the sailor stirred, straightened himself, mumbled a reply, and hauling -on the painter, drew the boat alongside the lower stairs. The man -stepped into it, casting another suspicious glance around as he seated -himself on the stern thwart. - -A word was spoken that Martin did not catch. Then the seaman cast off, -thrust his oars into the rowlocks, and with long, swinging strokes drove -the boat into the darkness downstream. - -“What’s Mr. Slocum after?” said Martin to himself as he got up and -started for home. - - - - - CHAPTER THE SECOND - - - MARTIN AT HOME - -And who was Mr. Slocum? - -Martin was the only son of a master mariner who, retiring after many -years at sea, had settled in a little house near the Tower. He had -suffered many misfortunes. Ship after ship in which he had invested his -savings was lost, and the last of them, the _Merry Maid_, sailing from -Bristol in the year ’62, had never been heard of again. - -“Have you seen or heard aught of the _Merry Maid_?” was the question the -old captain had put to all seafaring men coming into the river. - -The answer was always the same. Martin often wondered what had become of -the vessel. Many a time he wished that he could go sailing over the seas -to try to find some trace of her. But when his father and mother both -died of the Plague, he felt bound to stay on shore and help to look -after his little sister Lucy. - -They were left almost destitute, having nothing except the small sum -that was realised by the sale of Captain Leake’s furniture. This was in -the hands of a lawyer, and as it would bring in only a few shillings a -week, it was clear that Martin would have to earn something. - -He was taken from St. Paul’s school, and the lawyer found him a job in -the shop of Mr. Greatorex, a wealthy goldsmith in Cheapside, who had -known his father, and indeed had had an interest in the _Merry Maid_. - -“I’ll give the lad a trial,” Mr. Greatorex had said when the lawyer -approached him. “He’ll not get on very far unless he is apprenticed, of -course; but I’m not inclined to take him as an apprentice without a -premium; at any rate, until I find out the kind of lad he is. I’ve lost -hundreds of pounds in that unlucky vessel. Let him come and do odd jobs -for a while. Mr. Slocum will tell me how he gets on.” - -Martin had never seen Mr. Greatorex himself. Unlike most of the city -merchants of that day, who lived over their shops, the goldsmith had -built himself a house in the country, and left his business almost -entirely to Mr. Slocum, his manager. - -There were three apprentices who lived in the house, two of them -sleeping under the shop counter. They rather despised the new boy. -Martin had to come early in the morning to take down the shutters and -sweep out the shop. All day he was running errands between the shop and -the workrooms in Foster Lane, or carrying parcels to customers, or -fetching things for Mr. Slocum and the housekeeper. - -At the close of business he had to put up the shutters, and was often -very tired by the time he reached home. At first one or two of the -apprentices were inclined to bully him, but he showed himself to have -plenty of spirit and a neat way with his fists, and his tormentors soon -learnt to leave him alone. But his life was a hard one. Mr. Slocum was -ill-tempered, and nothing but Martin’s care for his sister kept him from -running away to sea. - -All the way home Martin puzzled about Mr. Slocum’s journey down the -river in the foreign boat. The apprentices talked among themselves about -their master, and Martin knew that he often went out at night, not -returning until very late. He was late also in the morning, except when -Mr. Greatorex was expected to ride in from the country. And his temper -seemed to grow worse every day. He barked at the apprentices like an -angry dog, and if they or Martin committed the slightest fault, they had -learnt to expect a thrashing. - -The house where Martin lived was a large old building that stood by -itself some distance from the riverside. It had once been the mansion of -a nobleman, but of late years it had been let out in tenements. - -The basement was occupied by an old seaman named Dick Gollop and his -wife. Gollop had served under Captain Leake in many a voyage, and -retired at the same time, obtaining employment as a constable. His thick -round figure and bandy legs were well known along the waterside, and he -was so good-tempered that the small boys of the neighbourhood liked to -go with him on his rounds, and beg him to tell them a story. - -When Martin and his sister were left homeless it was arranged that they -should live with the Gollops, the lawyer paying a small sum weekly for -their board and lodging. Martin slept in a small parlour at the back, -and Lucy in a slip room. They had their meals with the constable and his -wife, whose tongue was sometimes rather sharp, but whose heart was kind. - -“You’re late to-night, young master,” said Susan Gollop as Martin -entered the kitchen. Supper was on the table, and Lucy had already begun -her meal. Gollop was not present. - -“Look what I’ve got,” said the little girl, holding up a cake of -hardbake. - -“Ay, the Mounseer gentleman will spoil you, that he will,” said Susan. -“I never liked foreigners, but the Mounseer has a kind heart, and he has -took to you most uncommon.” - -The Mounseer was an old French gentleman who had fled from persecution -in France a few years before, and now occupied the first floor of the -Gollops’ house. He had struck up a friendship with Lucy, and regularly -every day escorted her to and from the dame’s school she attended about -a mile away. Mrs. Gollop was glad to earn a little every week for -looking after his room and his clothes; but he bought his own food and -did himself what little cooking he needed. - -“And what do you think?” Susan went on. “The second floor is let at -last.” - -“I’m glad of that,” said Martin. “You’ll get more money now.” - -“I wish I might,” said the old woman. “But the new gentleman will do for -himself. He’s a nice, fair-spoken gentleman, I will say that, Seymour by -name, and I wonder at him making his own bed and dusting and all that. -But there, I suppose he knows his own business; it’s not for me to say; -only I would have liked to make a shilling or two extra doing for him as -I did for the lodger what’s gone.” - -At this moment heavy footsteps were heard clumping down the stone -stairs. - -“Here’s my old man,” said Susan, going to the door. - -“A fine night, my hearties,” said the constable as he came in. “And -plaguey hot. Never did I know a summer as dry as this. Give me a drink, -Sue.” - -He hung his three-cornered hat on a peg, threw his staff into a corner, -stripped off his long coat, and rolled up his shirt sleeves. His broad -red face beamed as he sat down to his simple supper of bread and cheese -and beer. - -“Well, young master, what’s your own news to-day?” he said to Martin. -“Have you been conveying gold and silver about the city? When I think of -the watches and the goblets and the golden rings you carry on you, I -wonder to myself whether, being a constable, I oughtn’t to go with you.” - -“I haven’t done much of that to-day,” said Martin. “I had to fetch some -tobacco for Mr. Slocum—ah, I must tell you! I was down by the river -just now, and I saw Mr. Slocum get into a boat with a foreign sailor, -from a Portugal ship, I was told.” - -“Well, that’s not a wonderful bit of news to tell the Lord Mayor about. -These warm nights many folks like a row on the river. It freshens ’em up -and helps ’em to sleep. I reckon all the watermen were busy, and Mr. -Slocum took the first boat that was handy.” - -“I don’t think so. The boat seemed to be waiting for him.” - -“Maybe he had business with the master of the Portugal ship—a matter of -earrings for the crew, belike.” - -“But he came down in a sneaking sort of way, as if he didn’t want to be -seen.” - -“Steady, my lad; don’t you go for to be too sharp, getting fancies into -your head. It’s none of your business, what Mr. Slocum does; and if he -didn’t wish to be seen, he won’t thank you for talking about it. So take -my advice and keep your mouth shut.” - - - - - CHAPTER THE THIRD - - - THE ASSAULT - -Next day, when Martin was preparing to put up the shutters of the shop -in Cheapside, Mr. Slocum called him. - -“Here, you Leake, you’re not to go home yet. There’s a parcel to be -taken to an address in Middle Temple Lane. It must go without fail this -evening, and you’ll have to wait for it.” - -“Very well, sir,” said Martin. - -“And on your way you can leave a letter in Whitefriars. That will save a -special journey. Don’t loiter, mind. You’ll take a receipt for the -parcel, and give it to me to-morrow.” - -Martin was a little annoyed at being kept late, as he had promised to -take Lucy on the river. But there was no help for it. He closed the -shop, then went to the workrooms in Foster Lane, where the parcel would -be made up. - -Only one workman was there at his bench, giving the final polish to a -goblet of silver-gilt. He appeared to Martin to dawdle over his job, and -it was nearly dark before the parcel was ready. - -Martin set off with it, going through St. Paul’s Churchyard and down -Ludgate Hill. Then he turned to the left, towards the maze of lanes and -alleys that constituted the district of Whitefriars. It was at a house -in one of these lanes that he had to deliver the letter. - -He walked quickly, for it was an unsavoury neighbourhood. Many of the -houses were old and tumble-down; many of the people who lived in them -were bad characters; and Martin, knowing that the parcel he carried was -valuable, wished that he could have taken it by the more direct and open -route along Fleet Street. - -It was already so dark that he had some difficulty in finding the house -at which the letter was to be delivered. In those days houses were not -numbered; some were distinguished by signs that hung over the doorways, -others had no distinguishing marks at all. - -The address on Martin’s letter ran: “To Mr. Mumford, at his house over -against the Golden Fleece Tavern.” - -After making some inquiries, Martin discovered the house where Mr. -Mumford lived, and rapped on the door. A window opened, and a hoarse -voice asked, “Who’s there?” - -“A letter from Mr. Slocum,” Martin replied. - -A few moments afterwards the door was opened, and a rough-looking man, -holding a candle, gave a hard look at Martin as he took the letter. - -“All right; no answer,” he said, without breaking the seal. - -Martin hurried away, wondering how the man knew there was no answer -before he had read the letter. - -He had got about half-way to his destination in Middle Temple Lane when -two men rushed suddenly out of a narrow doorway and almost knocked him -down. As he staggered, he felt a tug at the parcel he carried under his -arm. - -Tightening his grip upon it, he drew himself away, but next moment a -sharp blow behind his knees threw him to the ground. - -“It’s under him; quick about it,” said a hoarse voice very much like Mr. -Mumford’s. - -Martin had fallen on the parcel. He realised now that the men were -trying to steal it, and he grasped it with both arms, and called aloud -for help. - -One of the men instantly clapped his hand over Martin’s mouth, while the -other sought to wrench the parcel from his clinging arms. He kicked out -with his feet, pressed with all his weight upon the parcel, and -desperately resisted the man’s attempt to turn him over on his back. - -But his assailant was a man of brawn. The struggle was hopeless. As -Martin was heaved violently over, his mouth was released for a moment -from the clutching hand, and he let out a piercing cry. A heavy shoe -kicked him; once more he was stifled; but his cry had been heard; there -was an answering shout and the clatter of feet on the cobblestones down -the street. - -The ruffians made one more attempt to wrest the parcel away. Failing, -they kicked him again, and made off just in time to escape the sturdy -watermen who had rushed to the spot. - -“Why, it’s young Master Leake,” said one of them, lifting him from the -ground. “What’s amiss?” - -Bruised and breathless, Martin told his story. - -“They didn’t get my parcel,” he concluded. “But it’s ruined, crushed; -look at it. It’s no good my going on. I must take it back.” - -“And we’ll see you safe,” said the watermen. - -Escorted by his rescuers, Martin returned to the shop in Cheapside, and -gave the parcel into the hands of the housekeeper. Then, his aching body -supported between his two friends, he walked slowly homeward. - - - - - CHAPTER THE FOURTH - - - MARTIN LOSES HIS JOB - -The moment Martin entered the shop next day Mr. Slocum pounced on him. - -“Here, you Leake, come here,” he cried. “What do you mean by it? What -have you got to say for yourself, eh? A pretty messenger you are! Look -at this goblet; scratched, dented, absolutely ruined! Who’s to pay for -the damage? Tell me that.” - -“Truly I am sorry, sir,” said Martin; “but it was not my fault. I was -set upon and knocked down by two ruffians. But for some watermen who -came up I should have lost the goblet altogether.” - -“Watermen, you say. Did they chase the footpads?” - -“No, sir; the men ran away at once.” - -“You’d know them again, I suppose?” - -“I’m afraid not. It was nearly dark, and they attacked me so suddenly -that I hadn’t time to get much of a look at them. But I did see that one -of them had a big scar across his forehead, just above the eye.” - -“And where did this happen?” - -“A little way beyond Mr. Mumford’s, sir, just after I had given him your -letter.” - -“And you mean to tell me you were stupid enough to carry a costly goblet -into that nest of rogues?” - -“You told me to, sir.” - -“I did not.” - -“Indeed, sir, you said I was to take Mr. Mumford’s letter on my way, and -that meant——” - -“Don’t contradict me! You were a careless young dog; went meandering -along, I dare say, with your nose in the air and your eyes on the stars. -You are not to be trusted. If anything of the sort happens again, you -and I will say good-bye, Master Leake. Get your broom and sweep the -floor.” - -Mr. Slocum went to his little room at the back, and Martin set about his -work, smarting under a sense of injustice. He had simply done as he was -told, and it was unfair to be blamed for what could not have been -foreseen. Who would have guessed that anyone would attack a boy carrying -a small parcel? - -To add to his annoyance, the ’prentices began to bait him. - -“A likely story,” said one. “You made it all up.” - -“Of course he did,” said another. “Butter-fingers! Dropped the parcel; a -horse gave it a kick, and he tells this cock-and-bull story to explain -the damage.” - -Martin went on sweeping, saying nothing, though his ears began to burn. - -“Look at him blushing,” jeered the first. “His name ought to be Molly.” - -Martin threw down his broom and sprang at his tormentor, a big, hulking -fellow half a head taller. They grappled; Martin wrenched himself out of -the other’s grip and rushed at him with clenched fists. - -They fought almost without sound, fearing to draw Mr. Slocum from his -den. The ’prentice was content at first to ward off the blows that -Martin rained on him, and the scornful smile on his face only fed the -smaller boy’s rage. - -So intent were they upon the fight that neither noticed the entry of a -well-dressed elderly gentleman. He stood looking on with a smile until, -scuffling and swaying, the boys lurched against him, the ’prentice -treading on his toes. - -At this moment Mr. Slocum came out of his room and, rushing down the -shop, gave Martin a smart clout on the side of his head. - -“I beg a thousand pardons, sir,” he said to the customer. “This is a -troublesome young rascal; I have already had to admonish him this -morning, and——” - -“Oh, it’s nothing, Mr. Slocum!” said the gentleman, smiling. “Boys will -be boys. I admire the youngster’s pluck, and as for your admonishments, -I fancy they are due rather to the other for fighting one so much -smaller than himself. Besides, the lout trod on my toes, confound him!” - -“I am shocked, sir, deeply pained,” said Mr. Slocum, glaring at the two -boys. “Get away to your work; I will deal with you presently.” - -Martin could not help watching the pleasant red-faced gentleman who had -taken his part. He noticed how humble Mr. Slocum’s attitude was to the -customer, and how respectfully he spoke. - -“I wonder who he is?” Martin thought, and the gentleman’s features -remained fixed in his memory. - -When the customer had finished his business and departed, Mr. Slocum -turned to Martin and, speaking in his usual harsh, overbearing way, -said: - -“You disgrace this establishment! Mind you this: if I catch you fighting -here again I shall dismiss you on the spot!” - -Martin made no protest, but he felt the injustice of his employer’s -treatment, and wished more than ever that he was free to find a place as -ship’s boy. - -The very next day matters came to a head. - -Early in the afternoon Martin was surprised to see enter the shop the -old Frenchman who lived above the Gollops. At the moment he was -polishing some silver plate in the back premises, along with two of the -’prentices. The third was behind the counter, and the Frenchman asked -him, in his queer broken English, if he might see Mr. Slocum. - -[Illustration] - -The ’prentice went into Mr. Slocum’s office, and, returning in a few -moments, bade the visitor, not too politely, to follow him. The door of -the office was closed behind him. - -“What’s old Froggy want now?” said one of the ’prentices. - -Martin looked at the speaker in surprise. He had not himself seen -Mounseer in the shop before, but evidently this was not his first visit. - -“I’d like to know,” replied his opponent of the previous day. “I wonder -he dares to show himself in a respectable shop. His clothes aren’t fit -for a scarecrow.” - -Martin flushed. The Frenchman was his friend, a kindly, courteous, -dignified gentleman, and he disliked to hear him criticised. It was -true, Martin had to admit, now that his attention had been called to -him, that his clothes were shabby; but they were well made, and of good -quality. For the first time Martin asked himself whether the old man was -very poor. - -“I wonder where he lives,” the first ’prentice went on. “He’s never had -anything sent home, has he?” - -“Not that I know of,” was the answer. “I dare say he lives in some -filthy cellar and feeds on rats and mice. He’s come a-begging, I should -think; but he won’t get much out of old Slocum.” - -Martin had been growing more and more indignant, and could remain silent -no longer. - -“Let me tell you the French gentleman is a friend of mine, and lives in -my house,” he blurted out. - -“Oh, indeed! A friend of yours, is he? And you and he live in the same -cellar, I suppose, and share the vermin? I’m not surprised.” - -“He doesn’t live in a cellar. You’d better say no more about him; I -won’t stand it.” - -“I’ll say what I like without asking you. He’s a miserable old scarecrow -of a foreigner, and we don’t want people like him in London. He would -make a good guy for the Fifth of November. I’d like to light some -crackers under him and see him jump.” - -This was more than Martin could stand. Dropping the salver he was -polishing, he rushed at the ’prentice with such impetuosity that the boy -lost his balance and fell. Up again in an instant, he closed with -Martin, and, forgetting everything else, the two began to fight in the -narrow space behind the counter. - -“Look out!” warned the ’prentice looking on. - -But the warning came too late. They lurched against one of the -glass-cases containing jewellery. There was a crash. Splinters of glass -fell all about the floor, the door of Mr. Slocum’s den flew open, and -Mr. Slocum himself, pale with anger, dashed out, followed by the old -Frenchman. - -“You again, you young villain!” roared the goldsmith. - -He caught Martin by the ear, lugged him to the door, and shot him into -the street with a parting kick. - -“Don’t you dare to show your face here again,” he cried, “or I’ll thrash -you black and blue.” - - - - - CHAPTER THE FIFTH - - - THE NOISE IN THE NIGHT - -Martin picked himself up, rubbed the mud from his clothes, and without -giving another look at Mr. Slocum or the shop, set off on the way home. - -“I’m glad to be out of it,” he thought; “but what shall I do now to earn -some money?” - -He had taken only a few steps when he heard his name called from behind. -Turning, he saw Mounseer hurrying after him, and stood still until the -Frenchman had caught him up. - -“I see it,” said the old gentleman. “I ask, what is the matter?” - -“I am dismissed, sir; that is all,” Martin replied, as they walked on. - -“Dismissed! But yes; does the Englishman dismiss with violence? I do not -understand.” - -“Mr. Slocum was angry. I was fighting one of the ’prentices.” - -“Ah, ah, fighting; what you call the box,” said the Frenchman, smiling. -“That is what the English like, I think. It is not then a reason to -dismiss.” - -“I fought yesterday, and Mr. Slocum threatened to dismiss me if I did it -again.” - -“Ah! That is another thing. To fight once, yes; but to fight a second -time when the master forbids, that is disobedience, also it is folly. -What was the subject of the quarrel? I may ask?” - -“The fellow was saying things about——” - -Martin pulled himself up. He could not hurt the old gentleman’s feelings -by repeating the ill-natured sneers at his appearance. - -“You do not tell, eh? Well, I ask no more. You are young, Martin; as you -grow older you will know that fighting is not for always; you must -choose the proper time. Without doubt, Mr. Slocum is a hard man; but it -is reasonable he think his place of business is not the right place, nor -the hours of business the right time, for the practice of the box.” - -Martin ruefully agreed that his friend was right. - -“But come, then,” Mounseer went on, noticing his downcast look. “Do not -be down in dumps; that is what you say, eh? To fight is no disgrace, if -the cause is good. To be dismissed, that is bad, certainly; but I think -you will soon find other employment.” - -The Frenchman’s confidence was not shared by Dick Gollop and his wife -when Martin explained the reason of his early return. In applying for a -new situation he would need a reference, and it would be hopeless to -look for a recommendation from Mr. Slocum. - -“What I say is, go straight to Mr. Greatorex,” said Susan. “That Slocum -is a wicked tyrant, that’s what he is, and Mr. Greatorex ought to know -about him.” - -“Nonsense, Sue!” said her husband. “The boy disobeyed orders; that’s -mutiny, and Mr. Greatorex wouldn’t override his manager. Martin won’t -tell what he was fighting about, but says he isn’t ashamed of it. -There’s a mystery somewhere, and I don’t like it. He must look for -another job, and I hope he’ll get one.” - -Late that night, when Dick Gollop was out on his round as constable, and -Lucy had gone to bed, Susan was stitching a rent in one of Mounseer’s -shirts. - -“There! That’s done at last,” she said. “’Tis time Mounseer had a new -shirt, I’m thinking. Deary me! I’m tired out after working all this -broiling hot day, and I’m sure I don’t want to climb those stairs.” - -“Let me take it up,” said Martin. “I’ll save your legs.” - -“That’s kind of you. I promised the old gentleman he should have it -to-night, or I wouldn’t trouble you.” - -Martin took the shirt and left the room. The staircase was very dark, -and he walked up slowly, feeling his way along the wall. - -When he was about half-way up he heard a creaking on the landing above, -opposite the Frenchman’s door. He halted, and, supposing that Mounseer -himself had come out of his room to ask for his shirt, he was on the -point of calling to him when he caught the sound of hurried but soft -footfalls on the stairs higher up, and then of a door gently closed. - -He went on again, reached Mounseer’s door, and knocked. At first there -was no answer; but after knocking a second time he heard the sound of -flint and steel in the room within, then a voice asking who was there, -and at last a fumbling with the bolt. - -“Ah! It is you, my young friend, with my shirt,” said the old gentleman, -opening the door. “I had fallen asleep, and had to light my candle.” - -“I thought I heard you on the stairs, sir,” said Martin. - -“Oh no! I have not left my room. It is late, and time for your bed. -Good-night. A thousand thanks!” - -Martin returned to the basement, bade good-night to Susan, and went to -bed. But he found it impossible to sleep. He lay tossing on his bed, -worrying about the future, listening to the church clocks striking the -hours. - -It was some time after midnight when the stillness was broken by what -seemed to be a low whistle from the patch of waste ground outside and a -little above Martin’s window. The sound was not repeated, and Martin -almost believed he was mistaken; but a few seconds later he was roused -by another sound; a slight creaking, as if a window somewhere had been -opened, then closed again. - -On so hot a night anyone might open a window for air. It was the -closing, after the whistle, that caused Martin to get up, go to his -window and look out upon the waste ground. No one was in sight. There -were no more sounds, and Martin went back to bed. - -Just as he was at last dozing off to sleep he was roused by a slight -sound in the house. In old buildings the stairs often creak without -apparent cause, and Martin was not startled or disturbed. But a minute -or two later he heard a louder sound, like wood breaking, and then -shouts and the stamping of heavy feet. - -Springing out of bed he rushed into the passage and up the stairs as -quickly as he could in the dark. The noise appeared to be coming from -the neighbourhood of Mounseer’s room. When he reached the landing he was -hurled back against the wall by the impact of a heavy figure that seemed -to have come through the open door. - -Before he could recover his footing he heard someone stumbling down the -stairs. He darted to the banisters and was just able to see a dark form -rush along the passage and through the front door, which he banged after -him. - -“What is it? What ever is it?” cried Susan from the door of her room. -Lucy shrieked with alarm and fear. - -“Don’t worry,” Martin called. “He has gone.” - -He went into the Frenchman’s room, and by the faint starlight he saw a -scene that surprised him. In the middle of the floor stood the old -gentleman, rapier in hand, his coat wrapped round his left arm, as -duellists were accustomed to wear their cloaks. A chair was overturned, -and there was broken wood near the door. - -“It is you, my young friend,” said the Frenchman, dropping his point. -“Be good enough to light my candle.” - -While Martin did this, Mounseer stood on guard, watching the door. - -“He will not come back, I think,” he said. “I was disturbed by a sound -outside my door; I sleep lightly, like all who have followed campaigns, -and I had time to rise and seize my rapier before the bolt was forced -and that wretch broke in.” - -“Who was he, sir?” asked Martin. - -“That I know not,” was the reply. “But he will remember me,” he added -with a chuckle. “I felt my point get home, and the wretch was only saved -because, as I pressed him, I stumbled over my chair. . . . But, pardon, -monsieur, I did not observe you.” - -In the doorway stood a tall man in a dressing-gown, his close-cropped -poll and blue shaven cheeks giving him a strange appearance in the -candlelight. It was Mr. Seymour, the new lodger who had recently taken -the top floor. - -“I would not intrude, sir,” said the newcomer politely, “but I heard the -noise, and came to give neighbourly assistance if it were needed. I see -that it was not.” - -Mounseer bowed without saying anything. - -“I am vastly relieved, sir,” Mr. Seymour went on. “Such an attack might -have been dangerous to one of your years. The city is infested with -rogues, but one might expect to be safe with a constable in the house.” - -“The constable is not in the house at night, sir,” said the Frenchman -drily. “I thank you for your benevolent intention; the danger is past, -and I would not keep you from your bed.” - -His bow as he said this could only be taken as a courteous dismissal, -and Mr. Seymour bowed himself out. Martin guessed from the expression of -Mounseer’s face that he did not like his neighbour. - -“Now, my friend Martin, please me by returning to your bed,” said the -old gentleman. “I will barricade my door; they will not disturb me -again.” - -Martin heard the clocks strike two before he fell asleep. And it was -only in his last waking moment that he remembered having heard creaking -stairs earlier that night near Mounseer’s room. - - - - - CHAPTER THE SIXTH - - - MARTIN’S PASSENGER - -Martin spent all the next day in a fruitless search for work. Either no -one wanted a boy, or the few that had places open would not engage a boy -who had been dismissed for fighting. - -In the evening, tired and dejected, Martin was walking homeward along -the waterside. Glancing towards the stairs where he had seen Mr. Slocum -embark on the foreigner’s boat, he noticed two small boys bending down -over a boat that was moored to an iron ring. A third boy stood half-way -up the stairs, evidently keeping watch. - -While Martin was still some distance off, the two boys rose and ran up -to their companion, smiling and pointing. Then all three climbed the -remaining steps and darted away. - -Martin could not help smiling at the mischievous little fellows. They -had untied the painter, and set the boat adrift on the stream. It was -now floating down on the swift-running tide. - -By the time it came opposite Martin it was already a dozen yards from -the shore. To his surprise he saw that it was not empty, as he had -supposed. In the bottom lay a dark bearded man with a red cap and an -orange jersey—the same man as Martin had seen at the same spot two or -three days before. He was fast asleep, just as he had been then. Neither -the action of the mischievous boys nor the motion of the stream had -awakened him. - -“Hi! hi!” shouted Martin, fearing that the man might come to grief if -the boat struck against some larger vessel lower down. - -But his cries did not awaken the sleeper, and Martin ran on to the -stairs; there was usually a boat belonging to one of his watermen -friends moored on the farther side; he would put off in her and catch up -with the drifting boat before she came to harm. But there was no boat at -hand. - -“Well, never mind,” said Martin to himself. “I can’t help the -sleepy-head. I dare say he’ll be seen from some wherry or lighter. How -strange that he should be here again!” - -He sat down with his back against the stone post, and idly watched the -boat as it rapidly drifted downstream. In a few minutes two men came -from behind the head of the stairs, and grumbled at the absence of the -watermen. Then one appeared, rowing his wherry from the opposite shore. -The men hailed him; he pulled in to the foot of the stairs, took on the -impatient passengers, and rowed away again, towards the city. - -The dusk was gathering, and Martin was about to rise and go home when he -heard footsteps on the other side of him, and a voice say, angrily, - -“The boat is not here!” - -“I can’t wait,” said another voice, which Martin recognised at once as -Mr. Slocum’s. Instinctively he drew farther back into the shadow of the -post. “It would not be safe. You must hire a waterman.” - -“There isn’t one to be seen,” said the first speaker. “There never is -when you want one.” - -“No doubt one will come in a minute or two,” said Mr. Slocum. -“Good-night.” - -The speaker had been hidden from Martin by the post. He heard Mr. Slocum -hurry away; then the other man came in sight and walked down the steps. -Under his arm he carried a small box. - -“Old Slocum here again,” thought Martin. “It’s very strange.” - -He was now so much interested that he decided to wait and see what -happened. The man was tall and swarthy, with a big red nose, and a beard -as black as the foreign seaman’s. As he sat on the stairs he muttered to -himself. - -After a while a heavily-laden wherry approached from upstream. It -contained several passengers, laughing and singing noisily, and when -they disembarked and mounted the stairs Martin saw that they carried -baskets, and guessed that they were picknickers returning from a jaunt -to Chelsea or Battersea. The waterman was Jack Boulter, a friend of his. - -The waiting stranger called to Boulter, demanding to be taken to -Deptford. - -“Not me; not to-night,” said the waterman. “I’ve been out all day. I’m -going home.” - -“But you must take me, I say,” the stranger protested. He raised his -voice, and Martin was surprised at a change in his accent. With Mr. -Slocum he had spoken like an Englishman, but now his utterance was -exactly that of a foreigner. - -“What you say don’t matter,” returned Boulter, proceeding to tie up his -boat. “I won’t stir out again for no man.” - -The stranger began to plead and coax and threaten, but to all his -excited words Boulter turned a deaf ear. Some impulse prompted Martin to -rise and walk down to the bottom of the stairs. - -“I say, Boulter, let me take him to Deptford,” he said. - -“It’s you, young master,” said Boulter. “Well, you’ve rowed my wherry -time and again, and I don’t mind if you do, so long as you promise to -tie her up when you get back.” - -“Ah! You are kind. You are a friend,” said the foreigner. He produced a -shilling, and was handing it to Martin when Boulter reached forward and -took the coin. - -“Thank’ee,” he said. “Young master will take ’ee quite safe, and I’ll -get along to the Pig and Whistle.” - -In another minute Martin was pulling the wherry out into mid-stream. The -passenger sat in silence upon the stern thwart, still grasping his box. - -There was now little traffic on the river. Here and there near the banks -barges were moored, and the spars of larger vessels were outlined -against the glooming sky. Glancing frequently over his shoulder Martin -steered a course clear of obstructions, and in no long time came within -sight of the Deptford shipyards. - -Presently the passenger, who had not spoken a word, motioned Martin to -land him at a jetty jutting out from a quay along the wall of a house -overhanging the river. It had the appearance of an empty warehouse. - -Martin was pulling round when the man changed his mind. - -“No, not there,” he said. “Beyond; farther: at the stairs of Deptford.” - -Martin sculled on, feeling that there was something mysterious about his -passenger. He seemed anxious, or excited. - -The wherry was almost opposite to the Deptford stairs when a cry broke -from the passenger’s lips. Martin glanced round, and saw a boat -approaching swiftly. It contained a single man, pulling hard against the -tide. - -Martin’s passenger stood up, and shouted angrily a few words in a -foreign tongue, which Martin could not understand. The man ceased -rowing, and turned his head, and Martin recognised him as the foreign -seaman whom he had seen a little while before asleep in the drifting -craft. Next moment he swung his boat round and rowed rapidly towards the -entrance of the repairing yard. - -A few minutes later Martin landed his passenger at the foot of the -stairs. The man seemed to be in too great a hurry even to thank him. He -sped up the stairs and disappeared. - -“I’ll have a little rest before I go back,” thought Martin. - -He tied up the boat and strolled along by the edge of the repairing -dock. Only one vessel lay there, a three-master brig without her -mainmast, and it flashed into Martin’s memory that the waterman had told -him of a Portugal ship that had come in for repairs. - -“Is that a Portugal vessel?” he asked a man who was lounging near by. - -“Ay, Portugal she is,” was the reply. “Dismasted by a Frenchman in the -Channel. She’s not so foreign-looking as some Portugal ships I’ve seen, -but her crew—why, bless your life, they’re as pretty a set of -cut-throats as you’ve ever set eyes on.” - - - - - CHAPTER THE SEVENTH - - - A BLOW IN THE DARK - -Martin found himself to be taking a rather unusual interest in this -Portugal ship. It was impossible in the dusk to see her lines clearly; -indeed, she was lying so low in the dock that even in the daylight one -could not have obtained a good view of her. And the shipwrights’ work -being over for the day, there was nothing going on upon her deck. - -What interested Martin was not so much the vessel herself as the persons -with whom she seemed to be connected. There was the foreign seaman whom -he had twice seen waiting at the foot of the stairs. There was Mr. -Slocum, who had embarked on that seaman’s boat. And now there was this -third man, who had come with Mr. Slocum to the stairs, who spoke like an -Englishman and also like a foreigner, and who was evidently very well -known to the sleepy-headed seaman. - -“There’s some mystery about all this,” Martin said to himself. “Mr. -Slocum said it wasn’t safe for him to wait about at the stairs. Why? -What reason can he have for coming or sending to this Portugal ship at -all? Has she jewels or plate among her cargo, and he’s buying them? But -why should he do it secretly?” - -It was quite clear that he would not get answers to his questions by -staring at the vessel. Two or three swarthy men in outlandish costumes -were now moving about the deck: he heard their strange voices, so unlike -the sing-song of English sailors. The lighting of a lamp reminded him -that black night would soon lie upon the river. - -“It’s time to be off,” he thought, and, turning about, he walked back -without hurry to his boat, cast her off, and began to pull out into -mid-stream. - -The tide was now slack, just on the turn, and he was glad that he would -not have to row against the current. - -He had taken no more than half a dozen strokes when the silence was -broken by loud shouts from the direction of the repairing yard. Turning -his head, he saw a small figure in the act of diving into the river from -a little jetty at the angle of the yard, and behind him a number of much -taller forms rushing along as if in pursuit. - -It was so nearly dark that all these figures were only just visible. But -in a moment Martin was able to see a black head and two splashing arms -on the surface of the water. The swimmer was making straight across -towards the opposite bank. - -He was seen also by the men on the jetty. With cries of excitement they -dashed back to the shore, and ran towards a boat that was drawn up on -the mud. - -Martin had ceased rowing; his interest in the Portugal ship was whetted -anew, for surely those excitable men were foreigners from that vessel. -Who was the fugitive? - -As he rested on his oars he noticed that the swimmer had suddenly -changed his course, and was coming with swift over-hand strokes straight -for the boat. Meanwhile, the pursuers had hauled their boat off the mud, -got afloat, and were now pulling hard in the same direction. - -Martin felt a throb of excitement as he watched the chase. By this time -he realised that the fugitive was swimming to him for help, and he -checked the motion of his boat, which had been drifting slowly on the -turning tide, and edged it towards the swimmer. - -Next moment a hand shot out of the water and grasped the gunwale. The -second hand followed. Then a husky, spluttering voice whispered: - -“Take me in, quick! They will catch me.” - -Martin was thrilled when he saw that the speaker was a boy, a little -younger than himself, as he guessed. Without reasoning, acting on a -natural impulse, he shipped his oars, and trimming the boat as well as -he could by lying across it, managed with some difficulty to help the -little fellow to clamber in. - -“Quick! They will catch me,” gasped the boy again as he sank exhausted -into the bottom of the boat. - -In a moment Martin had the oars in the rowlocks and began to pull with -all his strength. He caught sight of the pursuing boat forging out of -the darkness, and the shouts of the men aboard her told him that they -had seen what had happened to the boy. - -Spurred on by the angry menace of their voices, he bent to his oars with -a will. He had seen a look of terror in the boy’s eyes as he climbed -into the boat, and afterwards he remembered, what he had not consciously -observed at the time, that the boy’s skin was dark, though his features -were not those of a Negro. - -But Martin did not look at the boy as he lay in the boat. His whole -attention was concentrated on the pursuers. His heart sank; they were -gaining on him. How could it be otherwise? The Thames wherry of those -days was a heavy lumbering craft, and a half-grown boy could not hope to -outrow the two men who were urging their boat along with strong, -sweeping strokes. - -He heard encouraging cries from the third man who sat in the stern, and -as the pursuing boat gained on him yard by yard, he saw with a strange -thrill, in spite of the darkness, that this man was the mysterious -bearded passenger whom he had rowed down the river an hour before. - -Without knowing why, this recognition urged him to still greater -exertions. But the strain was telling upon his muscles; already they -were aching almost to numbness. Yet he rowed on and on, doggedly, not -dropping his sculls until the other boat sheered up alongside, and one -of the men, swinging round the butt of his oar, dealt Martin a blow that -sent him backward off his thwart. His head struck the thwart behind, and -he lay doubled up between the two, stunned. - -How long he remained thus he never knew. When he came to himself, -conscious of a stiff back and an aching head, and raised himself, he -found that he was alone in the boat, which was drifting towards the mud -flats on the Surrey shore. - -He looked around; the other boat, the fugitive boy, the pursuers, all -had disappeared. - -“Where am I?” he thought. - -There were few lights on the banks; in the darkness he could not -recognise his whereabouts. Seizing his sculls, he rowed slowly, -painfully, across the stream towards the northern shore. Presently, in -the distance, he caught sight of dim lights stretching across the river, -and knew that they shone from the houses on London Bridge. - -With a sigh he swung the boat about, and pulled still more slowly -against the running tide, keeping close to the shore. It seemed hours -before he came to the well-known stairs. He tied up the boat and then -deliberated. - -“Shall I go and tell Boulter what’s happened? He’ll be at the Pig and -Whistle: I’d better go home.” - -Dragging himself along, more distressed at his failure to save the boy -than at his own injuries, he reached his house, groped stumblingly down -the dark stairs, and found Susan Gollop placidly knitting. - -“Why, sakes alive, what’s come to you?” she cried, as the candlelight -fell upon his pale face. - -“I’ve hurt my head,” he replied, dropping into a chair. - -“There! If my thumbs didn’t prick!” she exclaimed. “I knew something had -happened to you, you’re so late. I said to Gollop: ‘That boy’s got into -mischief, and you can’t deny it.’ Now just you sit still and let me look -at the place and tell me all about it.” - -The good woman lifted his hair gently. - -“Gracious me! A lump as big as a duck’s egg,” she cried. “You’ve been -fighting again, I’ll be bound, though I’d have thought——” - -“Don’t be a goose, Susan,” Martin interrupted. “If I’d fought, the bump -would have been in front. I was hit a foul blow, and I’ll tell you.” - -Susan Gollop was more tender in action than in speech. She bathed the -wounded head and bound it up with a strip of linen, while Martin -recounted the events of the evening. - -“Dear, dear! Well, I’m sure! Poor little boy! Oh, the wretch!” she -exclaimed at points of the story. - -“Well, I never did hear the like,” she said at the end. “That Slocum: -it’s my belief he’s doing something he’s ashamed of, or ought to be, -drat him! It’s a mercy you don’t work for him any more. And the other -man; would you know him again? For you must tell Gollop all about it, -and he’ll take the wretch up and see what the magistrates have to say to -him.” - -“Yes, I’d know him again,” Martin replied. “I couldn’t forget his big -red nose and his beard as black as your saucepan.” - -“That’s strange,” said the woman thoughtfully. - -“What’s strange?” - -“Why, if I didn’t see just such a one this very day! Ay, and in this -very street. He passed me as I came back from shopping! ‘That’s a red -coal in a black grate,’ thinks I, and indeed he was a fearsome-looking -creature.” - -“I wonder what he was doing about here?” - -“Ah! Who knows? But don’t bother your head about him any more. Get you -to your bed, and I hope the bump’ll be flatter by the morning.” - - - - - CHAPTER THE EIGHTH - - - THE FACE AT THE WINDOW - -At breakfast next morning Martin expected to have to tell his story over -again to Dick Gollop, who had been out on duty half the night. But the -moment he entered the room, with his head still bandaged, the constable -took the wind out of his sails. - -“Ahoy, shipmate!” he said, “how’s the weather? By what I hear you’ve run -through a bit of a squall.” - -“You know, then?” said Martin. - -“Know! Of course I know. When my watch was over, somewhere about four -bells, and I came below dead-beat and turned in, d’you think I could get -any sleep? Not a wink, believe me. There was my old woman wide-awake, -and bursting with the news. - -“‘Gollop,’ says she, ‘there’s rogues and rascals in the world.’ That -being no news at all, I just gave a grunt and began to snore. ‘Listen to -me,’ says she, ‘and don’t pretend.’ What you can’t help, put up with. So -I listened, always ready to oblige, and out it came, like a flood over a -weir. - -“I own I dozed one or twice afore she was well under way, but I was fair -shook up when she’d got her canvas full spread. You take my meaning? -I’ve fought with a cutlass, and I’ve knocked down a swabber with a -marline-spike, but never in my born days have I hit a man with an oar; -there’s something uncommon about that, and as a constable I took note of -it. - -“Foreign ways, to be sure. Them fellows in the boat must have been some -of the crew of that Portugal ship.” - -“Not the big-nosed man with the black beard,” said Martin. “I’m sure he -was an Englishman.” - -“Maybe, but I ask you, what was he doing along with those foreigners? -And what’s his ploy with Slocum?” - -“Ay, and why come along this very street?” Susan put in. - -“There you go!” said Dick. “I’ve seen many a big nose, also red, _and_ -black beards, likewise many tabby cats. You can’t tell one from t’other -unless you’ve studied ’em. I see a tabby in one place; you see one in -another; that don’t make ’em the same.” - -“What’s cats got to do with it?” protested Susan. - -“Nothing,” said Dick. “All I say is, if I took up a man just because -he’d a big red nose and a black beard the magistrates would call me a -fool, and belike I’d have to pay damages, and then where’d you be?” - -“Then why talk about cats?” said Susan. “And tabbies! Now if you’d said -black cats——” - -“Drat the cats!” cried the constable. “You’ll go on about ’em till -you’re tired, I suppose. Martin, what I say is, keep your weather-eye -open, and if so be as you spy that black-haired fellow again, keep him -in sight, my lad, and inform an officer of the law.” - -A tapping was heard on the banisters at the head of the stairs. - -“There’s Mounseer, Lucy,” said Susan, “waiting to take you to school.” - -The little girl sprang up; she liked her morning walk with the old -Frenchman. She ran up the stairs, but returned in a few moments. - -“Mounseer says will you please lend him a hammer and chisel,” she said. - -“Willing, and anything else,” said Gollop. “But ask him if I can do the -hammering for him. I’ve been reckoned a handy man in my time; you have -to turn your hand to any odd job at sea.” - -The girl gave the message and returned. - -“Mounseer says it’s a trifle, and he won’t trouble you!” - -“Very well then; take him the things, and welcome.” - -The Frenchman laid the tools on a chair in his room, then locked the -door and started with Lucy for the half-mile walk to her school. - -Soon afterwards Gollop and Martin went out together, the former to take -his morning draught with his cronies, the latter to make another effort -to find work. - -In his pocket he carried some bread and cheese, so that he need not come -home for the mid-day meal. - -All through the hot summer day he wandered about, seeking employment. In -the evening he returned and reported that he had again met with no -success. - -“Never mind,” said Susan. “Things will take a turn. Now, just run -upstairs and ask Mounseer for that hammer. I want it to knock some nails -in Lucy’s cupboard, so as she can hang up her things tidy. Tell him he -shall have it back if he hasn’t done with it, but he’s been banging -nearly all day, so I dare say he has.” - -On reaching the Frenchman’s door Martin saw that a staple had been -fitted to one of the side joists, evidently to receive a padlock. From -within the room came the sound of knocking. He tapped on the door; the -sound ceased and Mounseer asked: - -“Who is there?” - -“It’s me, sir,” said Martin. - -“Ah, you, my young friend. Wait but one little moment.” - -The bolts were drawn inside, the door was opened, and there stood -Mounseer in his shirt-sleeves, chisel in hand. Martin gave his message. - -“But yes; assuredly: I ask pardon for keeping it so long. But you see, -one must be careful. My lock was broken by that villain; therefore I -must make other defences.” - -Martin noticed that an iron socket for a bar was fitted to the inside of -the door, and the bar itself, a stout baulk of wood, was leaning against -the wall. - -“Pouf! It is hot,” the Frenchman went on, “though I take off my coat and -open the window. A little rest will be agreeable. But I ask for the -hammer again, until I finish; I wish to finish this night.” - -Promising to bring the hammer back in a few minutes Martin went down to -the basement. But it was more than half an hour later, and dusk was -already falling, before he was able to return: Susan’s job had taken -longer than he had expected. - -This time there was no answer to his tap on Mounseer’s door, nor any -sound from within. He waited awhile, then tapped again. A sleepy voice -asked who was there, and when Martin was at last admitted, the old -gentleman apologised for the delay. - -“It is the terrible heat,” he said, spreading out his hands. “I fall -asleep; I am old, and the labour fatigues me. How I would like to be -young, like you! Labour is light for the young.” - -“But I can’t get any work, sir,” said Martin. - -“Courage, my young friend. It will come. Seat yourself, and tell me -where you go to-day; I am very much interested.” - -Sitting on a chair facing the open window, Martin began to relate his -wanderings of the day, while the Frenchman took the hammer and chisel -and worked away at the bar of wood by the light of a candle. - -While Martin was speaking he fancied he saw something move just outside -the window. Though somewhat startled, he had the presence of mind to go -on with his story, and a few moments afterwards was astonished to see a -hat appear above the edge of the window-sill, at a corner. - -It rose slowly; the dim light of the candle at the farther end of the -room showed him a man’s face—a face seamed with a scar across the -temple. So great was his surprise at recognising one of the men who had -tried to steal his parcel that he jumped up with a sudden cry. - -Instantly the face disappeared, and by the time Martin and the Frenchman -reached the window the man was half-way down the gutter-pipe up which he -had climbed. - -With amazing quickness Mounseer seized a three-legged stool and hurled -it down. It missed the man by an inch or two, and fell with a crash upon -the ground. In another second the man dropped beside it and bolted -across the open space into the darkness. - -“What is the matter?” asked a voice from above. - -Looking up, Martin saw Mr. Seymour, the occupant of the upper floor, -leaning over his window-sill. - -“A matter of no consequence,” said the Frenchman, drawing Martin back -into the room. “I must close the shutters,” he went on, “though it will -be very hot. But I do not like the curious people.” - -“That face belonged to one of the men who tried to rob me,” said Martin. -“It is strange he should have come to the house where I live, for I’ve -nothing worth stealing here. I’ll describe him to Gollop, and he’ll -circulate the description, and someone will arrest the fellow.” - -“Not for me, my friend,” said the Frenchman. “I, a stranger, would not -give trouble. And indeed my best protection is not in the Law, but in a -few stout bolts and my lifelong friend yonder.” - -He pointed to his rapier, hanging on the wall. - -It was clear to Martin that the Frenchman wished to be alone, so he said -Good-night and went downstairs. On the way he was struck by a curious -circumstance. According to Susan Gollop, Mounseer had been hammering all -day; why then was there so little sign of it? All that he had done would -have been the work of only an hour or two. But perhaps the old gentleman -was not expert with tools. - - - - - CHAPTER THE NINTH - - - AN ADVENTURE IN PUDDING LANE - -Next morning, when the time came for Lucy to start for school, the -Frenchman said that he felt a little indisposed, and would not venture -out in the heat. - -“I’ll take her,” said Martin. “But I can’t promise to bring her back, -because I’m going in search of work again, and I don’t know where I’ll -be when school is over.” - -“Don’t you worry, my lad,” said Susan. “Dick will be home then, and he -can fetch the child for once. And I hope you’ll get a job to-day, for it -makes a difference not having your few shillings at the weekend.” - -When he had left his sister at the door of the dame’s school, Martin -stood for a minute or two undecided as to the way he would go in his -hunt for work. - -He was feeling rather disheartened. It was the first time Susan Gollop -had said a word to hint that he was a burden to her, and in his pride he -was determined that she should never have another occasion for any -remark of the sort. - -Up to the present his applications for a job had been made at the larger -places of business—establishments that would rank equal with Mr. -Greatorex’s shop in Cheapside. But it was no time to pick and choose; he -would take the meanest job that offered itself, no matter what it was. - -It occurred to him that he might have better success if he crossed the -river and made inquiries at the Hop Market in Southwark. In the course -of his walk towards London Bridge he was crossing Pudding Lane, a narrow -street near Billingsgate, when he was almost thrown down by the sudden -impact of a strange figure that darted out of a baker’s shop at the -corner. - -“Steady!” he cried, putting up his hands to protect himself. - -The figure recoiled, then without a word of excuse or explanation dashed -down the lane. Martin laughed; he had never seen a more comical object -than this boy, a little bigger than himself, who was covered with flour, -and whose head was almost concealed in a large mass of dough. - -His amusement was increased when he saw a second figure issue from the -shop—the figure of a short, stout man, he too cased in dough and flour -from head to foot. The baker set off at a toddling scamper after the -boy, their course marked on the cobblestones with a white trail. - -In a few moments the pursuer recognised that his chase was hopeless. The -boy, indeed, had turned the corner and was out of sight by the time his -master had run half a dozen paces. - -“The young villain!” cried the man, stopping short and shaking his fist -in the direction of the vanished fugitive. - -He turned back towards the shop, picking at the dough that clung to his -hair and beard, spluttering and muttering curses the while. As he was -passing Martin a mass of the loosened dough fell over his eyes, and for -a moment he tottered like a blind man. - -Martin sprang to his side, held him steady, and helped him to rid -himself of some of the dough, which hung in long clammy strips about his -face, like the curls of a full-bottomed wig. - -“Ugh! Ugh!” gasped the baker. “The insolent young ruffian! Thank you! -Thank you! My hair is short, or—— The young viper! ’Tis a mercy none -of the neighbours have seen my plight. Quick, boy; lead me. I can -scarcely see my own shop door!” - -Martin took him by the arm and led him the few paces to his shop. On the -sign hanging above the door were the words: “Faryner, Baker to His -Majesty the King.” - -Within the shop Martin stayed to give further assistance to the angry -baker, who intermingled abuse of the runaway boy with explanations, half -to himself, and half to Martin. - -“The whelp!” he exclaimed. “He comes late, and when I tax him, is saucy, -scandalously saucy. ’Twould try the patience of a saint, and I’m no -saint. Must silence his chattering tongue. Up with a pan of dough; dab -it on the rascal’s head. - -“The impudence of the knave! What does he do but snatch up another pan -and empty it over me—me, a master baker, baker to the King, contractor -to the Admiralty, purveyor to half the nobility and gentry. Ay, and -flings a bag of flour at me. What do you think of that? What is the -world coming to?” - -Martin did not venture to say what he thought. - -“Well, he’ll never darken my doors again, that’s certain. And that -reminds me. There’s his basket—the loaves ought to have been delivered -an hour ago. I was already one boy short, and the rascal knew it, and -yet he came late. I shall lose some of my best customers.” - -The greater part of the sticky mass had now been plucked from the -baker’s head. He looked ruefully at the basket of loaves in a corner of -the shop, scratched his head, became conscious that there were still -some fragments of dough adhering to his short-clipped hair, and burst -out again into violent denunciation of his errand boy. - -On the impulse of the moment Martin spoke up. - -“I’ll take the basket. I’m out of a job.” - -“Ah!” exclaimed the baker, looking at him keenly as if he was only just -aware of him. “Who are you?” - -“My name’s Martin Leake.” - -“Are you honest?” - -“Won’t you try me?” - -“That’s not a bad answer. You’ve done me a service and I like the look -of you. I’ll try you. Here’s a list of the customers these loaves are to -be delivered to. Set off at once. Nay, wait! I don’t like changes. If I -try you, and you satisfy me, I shall expect you to stick to the job. -Five shillings a week and a loaf a day. That’s my wages.” - -“I’ll be glad to earn that to begin with,” said Martin. - -“Then that’s a bargain. Don’t loiter.” - -Martin took the basket on his arm, and as he went out he heard the baker -mutter: - -“How shall I get rid of the rest of this plaguey dough? The young -ruffian!” - -Scanning the list of customers given him, Martin was interested to find -at the bottom the name of Mr. Slocum, at the goldsmith’s shop in -Cheapside. The idea of meeting his old master was not at all pleasant, -but he reflected that if he went to the back entrance, from a yard -leading out of Bow Lane, he would probably avoid such a meeting, and see -only the housekeeper or the cook, who had both been on friendly terms -with him. - -“I’m glad it’s the last on the list,” he thought. “But I wish I hadn’t -to go there at all. What strange fate is always bringing me into contact -with old Slocum? I don’t like it. There’s something mysterious about -it.” - -And it was with a strange feeling of misgiving that he trudged on with -his heavy load of bread. - - - - - CHAPTER THE TENTH - - - A MYSTERIOUS VISITOR - -Martin’s first hour’s experience as baker’s boy was by no means -pleasant. Mr. Faryner’s customers had been kept waiting for their -morning rolls and loaves, and at nearly every house where Martin called -he was received with dark looks and cutting words. - -He took it all in good part, explained that he was a new boy, and -promised to be earlier on the morrow. As the basket became lighter he -grew more cheerful, and by the time he reached Bow Lane he had almost -forgotten the forebodings with which he had started. - -Turning into the yard by which he would reach the back entrance to Mr. -Slocum’s house he suddenly collided with a boy coming in the opposite -direction. He was turning round; the basket was jerked off his arm, and -the two loaves it contained rolled out on the cobblestones. - -“Now, clumsy, why don’t you look where you are going?” said a -well-remembered voice. - -Martin had already recognised his old opponent, the apprentice through -whom he had been dismissed. He was himself recognised before he could -say a word in reply, and for a moment or two the boys stared at each -other. Then the apprentice laughed. - -“Dash my eyes!” he said. “Do I see Martin Leake?” - -Without waiting for an answer he swooped on the loaves, picked them up, -rubbed the dust off on his breeches, and rushed back into the open -doorway of the house. - -“Sally, here’s Martin Leake turned baker’s boy,” Martin heard him shout. - -In a few seconds he came out again followed by the cook with the loaves -in her hands. Martin had picked up his basket, and was standing just -outside the door. - -“Well I never!” exclaimed the cook, who had always been well disposed -towards Martin. “So you are working for Faryner, are you? I was -wondering what had come to the boy. Mr. Slocum is in a towering rage -because he’s been kept waiting for his breakfast. I’ll just send up the -bread, then I’ll come back, Master Hopton; mind you that.” - -She retreated into the house, and the boys were left at the door. They -stood looking at each other awkwardly. Martin bore Hopton no malice; on -the other hand he could not feel friendly towards him, and had not the -cook asked him to remain he would have walked away. - -“Slocum’s a terror,” said the apprentice suddenly. - -Martin did not reply. - -“Sent me out to buy a loaf,” Hopton went on. “You saved me a journey.” - -This did not appear to call for an answer. There was silence again for a -few moments. - -“I say, I’m sorry I got you turned out,” said Hopton, awkwardly. - -“You needn’t be,” said Martin, surprised. “I wouldn’t come back again -for anything.” - -“I don’t blame you. I’m sick of Slocum and his tempers. Does Faryner pay -you well?” - -“Now what’s that to do with you, Master Hopton?” said the cook, -returning. “Just you run back to the shop, or you’ll get into trouble.” - -“All right, Sally,” said the apprentice, grinning. He gave Martin a -friendly wink as he turned into the house. - -“So you have made up your quarrels,” said the cook. - -“I’m not sure that we have,” replied Martin, with a smile. “But he’s -very friendly. I wonder why?” - -“He wishes he were you, I daresay, instead of being bound to Mr. Slocum -for seven years. To Mr. Slocum, says I, though ’tis really to Mr. -Greatorex. Ah! I wish the old master had never left the City. What -things are coming to I don’t know. Mr. Slocum’s cursing and cuffing -those apprentices from morning till night, and you’re lucky to be out of -it.” - -“What’s the matter with him?” - -“Goodness alone knows! It’s my belief he has something on his mind, -but—— There he is, bawling for me. Don’t let him see you. Coming, sir, -coming!” - -Martin hurried away, feeling more than ever glad that he was no longer -in Mr. Slocum’s service, and wondering whether his old employer’s ill -temper was connected in any way with his mysterious doings on the -riverside. - -Another round, in a different part of the city, occupied part of the -afternoon, and Martin had to clean out the shop before he left for home. -Again it had been a very hot day, and he was more tired than he had ever -been before; so tired, indeed, that he was not inclined to talk about -his new job. - -“’Tis a come-down, to be sure, for a master mariner’s son,” said Dick -Gollop; “but what you can’t help, make the best of.” - -“Now don’t you go for to dishearten the lad, with your come-downs,” said -Susan. “’Tis honest and useful, and we shan’t have to buy so much -bread.” - -Weary though he was, Martin that night found it impossible to sleep. His -room was small and felt like an oven, though he had opened the window -and the door, and thrown off all the bedclothes. - -The senses of a sleepless person are extraordinarily acute, and as the -hours dragged on Martin became annoyed at the regular snores of Susan -Gollop in the room beyond. Dick happened to be out on night duty again. -For a long time the only other sounds Martin heard were the footsteps of -Mr. Seymour as he went along the passage above and up the stairs to his -room. - -“He’s very late home,” thought Martin. - -He heard the lodger shut his door; then all was silent again until a new -sound, outside his window, caught his ear. It was a slight thud, such as -would be made by a small object falling on the ground, and he might -hardly have noticed it had not recent events made him heedful and -suspicious. - -Rising from his bed he tiptoed on bare feet to the window and looked -out, taking care to keep out of sight himself. It was a starry night, -and he saw a dark patch against the sky—the form of a man standing on -the square of waste ground above the basement level. - -His thoughts flew to the man who had climbed the gutter pipe to the old -Frenchman’s room, and his heart began to beat more quickly. Then he -heard whispering voices. The man was evidently talking to someone on one -of the upper floors. Only a few words were spoken, then the man walked -quickly away. - -Martin was relieved; it seemed that there was to be no further attack on -the Frenchman’s room. But he was also puzzled. Who was the man? Why -should anyone come in the dead of night to the back of the house and -talk to one of the inmates? And to whom had he spoken? It must be either -Mounseer or Mr. Seymour. - -Still listening and watching, Martin suddenly heard the stairs creak. -More than ever puzzled, and a little alarmed, he stole out into the -passage. There were now footsteps in the hall above. He crept up the -basement stairs on hands and knees, and noticed a dim flickering light -upon the wall. - -At the top of the staircase he bent low and peeped round. A smoky candle -was guttering on the hall floor. The front door was partly open, and -Martin saw the back of a man in nightcap and dressing-gown, talking to -someone outside. - -“Mr. Seymour!” said Martin to himself. “It’s too tall for Mounseer.” - -“The sloop is in the river,” said a husky voice. “It’s too risky. You -had better take it.” - -“If I must, I must!” replied Mr. Seymour, in a low tone. - -He opened the door a little farther. Martin felt strangely excited. A -mysterious visitor to Mr. Seymour; a sloop in the river; some risky -enterprise; something that Mr. Seymour was to take; all these -circumstances sharpened his curiosity and caused him to strain eyes and -ears. - -The two men between them carried a heavy object into the hall. Martin -could not see what it was, nor could he see the features of the visitor. -Mr. Seymour was between them and the light. - -“Remember you’ll have to account to me,” said the stranger in the same -low, husky tone. - -“If you don’t trust me,” replied Mr. Seymour impatiently, “take it -away!” - -“Trust you—oh, yes!” was the answer, with a slight gurgle of laughter. -“But I thought I might as well remind you. That’s all. Good-night!” - -He turned his back and went out into the darkness, Mr. Seymour gently -closing the door behind him. And then Martin saw that the object on the -floor was a square box, brass-bound at the corners. - -Mr. Seymour shot the bolt without noise, shouldered the box, which -appeared to be of considerable weight, then looked at the candle. - -“Confound it!” he muttered, frowning. - -Martin guessed that he was annoyed because, laden with the box, he could -not stoop to lift the candle. - -Slowly, taking every step cautiously, he carried the box up the first -staircase, across the landing, and then up the staircase to his own -room. In a minute he returned, picked up the candle, and ascended once -more. - -Martin’s heart was thumping as he crept down to his room again, and it -was almost morning before he at last fell asleep. - - - - - CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH - - - MR. SLOCUM AGAIN - -Having to be early at his new job, Martin was hurried in the morning. -When he left after a quick breakfast, Dick Gollop was still a-bed; he -had only returned from his night duty about five o’clock. So Martin had -no opportunity of telling the constable of the strange incident he had -witnessed in the night, and he refrained from mentioning it to the -others for fear of alarming them. - -He was still greatly puzzled, and his mind was full of the matter as he -walked to Mr. Faryner’s shop in Pudding Lane. There was no reason why -Mr. Seymour should not have a box delivered to him. But why had the -messenger come secretly by night? What was the danger? And what was the -meaning of the mysterious reference to the sloop in the river? - -These questions were driven from his thoughts for a time by his work. -Mr. Faryner praised him for coming punctually, gave him a few odd jobs -to do, and then sent him out on the morning round. - -In due course he arrived at the goldsmith’s house, and once more made -his way to the back entrance. Leaving his basket just inside the door, -he took the four loaves intended for Mr. Slocum’s household up the -stairs to the kitchen on the first floor. - -Passing the hall landing, he noticed that the door of a small room which -was usually kept locked now stood ajar. The fact did not arouse any -particular curiosity, and he went on to the kitchen and handed the bread -to the friendly cook. - -“I’m glad you are early,” she said, “though it wouldn’t have mattered so -much this morning. The master isn’t up yet. He was out late last night, -and I warrant will be in a rare tantrum when he wakes. And how do you -like your new work?” - -“Better when I’ve finished than when I begin,” replied Martin, smiling. -“The basket is very heavy at the start, and it makes me very tired this -hot weather.” - -“Never mind; it’s something to be working for the King’s baker, and I -hope you’ll get on. There now! What did I say!” - -Mr. Slocum had just called “Sally!” from below stairs, and his voice -certainly sounded far from good-tempered. - -“Coming, sir,” the cook answered, and hurried to the head of the -staircase. - -“I want you to go at once to the dairyman’s in Milk Street and complain -of the mouldy cheese he sent me. Tell him it’s not fit for pigs, and if -he can’t serve me better I’ll deal elsewhere.” - -“Very good, sir,” said Sally. “I’ll just fetch my shawl.” - -“Nonsense, woman; you don’t need your shawl a hot day like this. Get -away at once, and be sure you don’t mince matters.” - -Martin heard Mr. Slocum’s loud angry tones distinctly. The cook hurried -downstairs, her master talking at her all the time. As soon as she had -left the house Mr. Slocum dashed up the stairs, and Martin realised that -his retreat was cut off. He had no fear of his old employer, but was not -at all eager to meet him. - -By the time Mr. Slocum reached the kitchen door, Martin had stepped back -into the shelter afforded by the jutting corner of a large cupboard. Mr. -Slocum came in hurriedly, turned the key in the door, and went straight -across the room to another door that led into a passage and thence into -his private room. - -Martin waited, undecided whether to go at once or to remain until he was -sure the coast was clear. Just as he was on the point of moving he heard -Mr. Slocum returning, and thought it better to stay where he was. - -The goldsmith’s movements were much slower now, and when he came into -view Martin had a shock of surprise. The man was carrying a box, -brass-bound at the corners, exactly like the box which had been -delivered to Mr. Seymour the previous night. He passed across the -kitchen, unlocked the door, and began to descend the stairs. - -Martin felt trapped. He was lucky in having escaped notice so far; he -could hardly hope not to be observed if Mr. Slocum returned. And hearing -Mr. Slocum enter the room on the half-landing he hurried after him on -tip-toe, hoping to slip by unseen. - -Just as he reached the half-landing Mr. Slocum, empty-handed, came out -of the little room, shutting the door behind him. Martin bent, and tried -to dash by; but Mr. Slocum heard him, turned quickly, shot out his hand -and caught him by the tail of his coat. - -“Who on earth are you?” cried the goldsmith. “No use wriggling; I have -you fast.” And then, as he caught sight of Martin’s face: “You! You -scoundrel! Where have you come from? What business have you here? Didn’t -I tell you never to show your face again?” - -“I am working for Mr. Faryner, and have just brought your bread,” Martin -replied. - -“Then what are you hanging about for? Why are you hiding in my house?” - -“The cook was called away before she had time to pay me.” - -“And you are skulking here, stealing for all I know. I’ll send for a -constable, and give you in charge on suspicion of loitering with the -intention of committing a felony.” - -“You may do that if you please, Mr. Slocum,” said Martin with spirit. -“But you have nothing against me, and you will look rather silly.” - -At this Mr. Slocum lifted his left hand to clout Martin, who took -advantage of a slight relaxing of the grip of the other hand to wrench -himself away and leap down the stairs. He picked up his basket and fled -out into the yard, leaving Mr. Slocum shouting threats and curses behind -him. - -The sequel to this unlucky meeting was seen later in the day. On -returning from his afternoon round Martin found that Mr. Slocum had sent -a message to the baker, saying that if the new errand boy was sent again -to the house he would transfer his custom. - -“You were impudent, I suppose,” said Mr. Faryner, “and you won’t suit -me, and that’s a pity, for I’d taken a fancy to you. It’s a lesson to me -to make inquiries before I hire a boy.” - -Martin thought it was high time to give his employer a little -information. He related the morning’s incident, not mentioning the box; -some instinct prompted him to keep that to himself. - -“There was nothing much to be angry about,” said the baker. “Have you -told me everything?” - -“I haven’t told you that I was once in Mr. Slocum’s employment, and he -dismissed me for——” - -“Impudence? Confess now.” - -“No, sir; for fighting one of the apprentices.” - -“Bless me, I’ve done that myself,” said Mr. Faryner, with a laugh. “But -come now, I can’t afford to lose a good customer. I daren’t send you on -that round again. Let me see.” - -He stuck his hands into his belt and looked questioningly at Martin. - -“Can you row a boat?” he asked. - -“I’ve done it often,” said Martin. “My father was a sea-captain, and -I’ve helped my friends among the watermen more than once.” - -“Capital! Then I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll put another boy on your -round, and I’ll give you the river. You’ll take supplies to the ships in -the Pool. What do you say to that?” - -“I’ll say thank you, sir; I shall like it very much.” - -“Very well, then. You see, I’ve taken a fancy to you.” - - - - - CHAPTER THE TWELFTH - - - THE BRASS-BOUND BOX - -When Martin reached home that evening he told his friends of the -approaching change in his work that was due to Mr. Slocum. Susan -Gollop’s red cheeks grew redder as she listened to him. - -“That Slocum is a monster!” she cried indignantly. “I’d like to give him -a piece of my mind, that I would!” - -“Now don’t you go putting your oar in, my woman,” said the constable. “I -don’t like the man, but he was within his rights in turning out of the -house the boy he dismissed for misbehaviour——” - -“Misbehaviour, indeed!” Susan interrupted. “What’s his own behaviour -like? Tell me that. Mr. Greatorex ought to know what a temper the man -has got, and if he didn’t live so far away I’d tell him myself. Martin -shall write it down for me, being no scholar myself, and we’ll send Mr. -Greatorex a letter.” - -“Avast there!” said Dick. “Look at it sensible, Sue. Mr. Greatorex is -the owner of the ship, so to put it, and he’s made Slocum captain. -’Tain’t for us to question his right so to do. And d’you think he’s -going to bother his head about the ship’s boy?” - -“What ship’s boy?” - -“Why, Martin, of course. In a manner of speaking he was the ship’s boy -aboard that craft.” - -“Stuff and nonsense!” exclaimed Susan. “You and your ship’s boy—and -Martin the son of a captain _and_ owner! Gollop, I wonder at your -ignorance.” - -“Well, my dear, what you can’t help, make the best of. Let things alone, -that’s what I say, and maybe Martin’ll never meet Slocum again, and so -it won’t matter.” - -Martin was not long in deciding that Mr. Slocum had really done him a -good turn. He liked his new job—to deliver bread to the ships in the -Pool. Their officers, coming into harbour after long voyages, were glad -to get a change from the hard, mouldy, and often worm-bitten biscuit -which they had to put up with at sea. Mr. Faryner’s excellent loaves -found a ready sale among them. - -At least once, sometimes twice, a day Martin rowed out from the steps -below London Bridge to the vessels that lay against the wharves or at -anchor in the river. Sometimes he would send up his bread in a basket -lowered over the side; sometimes, after tying his painter to the anchor -chains, he would himself swarm up a rope ladder to the deck. Now and -then he had to scramble across the lighters surrounding a vessel that -was taking in or discharging cargo. - -He found all this thoroughly interesting and enjoyable. It was much -easier to carry his basket in a boat than to carry it on his arm. He -liked to meet and chat with the jolly sailor-men and to see the insides -of the ships whose outsides he knew so well. If he could not go to sea -himself, he felt that the next best thing was to have something to do -with those who did, even if it were only supplying them with bread. - -And he was well satisfied with his change of masters. Mr. Faryner, he -found, was just as quick-tempered as Mr. Slocum, but he was not mean or -spiteful or unjust. - -One Saturday when Martin had made a slight mistake in accounting for the -money he had received from customers, the baker flew into a rage. - -“You’re either a ninny or a rascal!” he cried. “And I don’t know which -is worse. Can’t you add two and two? You’re no good to me. Boys are the -plague of my life, none of them any good. If they’re not saucy they’re -stupid, and if they’re not stupid they’re——. Here, get out of my -sight, and don’t stare at me as if I were a fat pig at a fair!” - -Martin was careful to keep out of the angry man’s way, and wondered -whether, when he received his week’s wages, he would be told to find -another job. To his surprise Mr. Faryner seemed to have forgotten the -matter that had upset him. - -“Here you are, my lad,” he said, as he handed Martin his five shillings. -“And you had better take two loaves home to-night instead of one; there -are some over, and they’ll be too stale to sell by Monday.” - -Like many another quick-tempered man’s, Mr. Faryner’s bark was worse -than his bite. - -When Martin got home that evening he found Susan Gollop in a great state -of excitement. - -“I don’t know what’s coming to us all,” she said. “Only think of it! -When Mounseer came back from his walk this afternoon he found his room -all upside-down and higgledy-piggledy, and me in the house all the time, -and never heard a sound!” - -“What happened?” asked Martin, remembering the former attempts on the -Frenchman’s room. - -“Why, someone got in, front or back, I don’t know how, and picked his -padlock, and rummaged the room, forced open his cupboard, slit up his -mattress, and even ripped the lining of his coat on the peg.” - -“But why? What were they seeking?” Martin asked in his amazement. “He -seems to have nothing valuable except his sword.” - -“Ah! That’s what puzzles me. And what’s more, Mounseer didn’t seem very -upset when he came in and found everything topsy-turvy. He just looked -round the room, and then he smiled—fancy that; smiled!—as if it was -just a muddle made by children. - -“‘You take it easy, sir,’ says I, and he gave his shoulders a shrug—you -know his way—and said, ‘Be so good, madam’—he called me madam—‘to -help me arrange.’ And when we were in the middle of putting things -straight, who should come in but Mr. Seymour. - -“‘Dear me!’ says he, all astonished like, ‘what in the world is the -matter?’ And just as I was opening my mouth, Mounseer took me up short. -‘Nothing in the world, sir,’ says he, ‘I thank you!’ And he goes -straight to the door and shuts it in Mr. Seymour’s face. - -“I was fair took aback; where were his French manners? Always so polite -to me, calling me madam and all, and yet almost rude to Mr. Seymour! - -“Mounseer must have took a dislike to him, that’s all I can say, and -very queer it is, for Mr. Seymour is a nice, pleasant-spoken gentleman, -with always a ‘Good-day, Mrs. Gollop!’ or ‘Very warm, Mrs. Gollop!’ -whenever I meet him on the stairs.” - -Martin said nothing to this, though recent incidents had made him -uncomfortable, and inclined to share in Mounseer’s evident distrust of -the mysterious lodger on the top floor. His doubts were deepened by -something that happened that very night. - -He was disturbed from a sound sleep by slight noises from the waste land -at the rear of the house. They were louder than they had been on the -previous occasion, and he guessed that the man below had had more -difficulty in attracting Mr. Seymour’s attention. - -But things happened as before. There was a short, murmured exchange of -words between the two men; the speaker below went away, Mr. Seymour came -with scarcely a sound down the stairs. Martin reached his post near the -top of the basement staircase in time to hear the same husky voice -outside the front door say: “The sloop is back in the river.” - -Again Mr. Seymour opened the door wide, and the other man brought in a -brass-bound box. - -“It’s heavier this time,” said Mr. Seymour. “You must give me a hand -with it upstairs.” - -“It’s not safe. You’ve got slippers; my sea-boots make too much noise.” - -“Take them off, and walk in your stockings!” said Mr. Seymour, -impatiently. - -The other man growled, but came forward, set the box on the floor, and -sat on it while he removed his boots. His features were still concealed -from Martin by Mr. Seymour’s figure between him and the candle half-way -down the hall. He stood up. - -“Heave ho,” he muttered. - -And then Martin started, and instinctively shrank back a little. When he -looked out again the two men, carrying the box between them, were full -in the light of the guttering candle, and in the larger of them he -recognised the black-bearded stranger whom he had first seen at the -river stairs in the company of Mr. Slocum, and whom he had rowed down to -Deptford in Jack Boulter’s wherry. - - - - - CHAPTER THE THIRTEENTH - - - BLACKBEARD VISITS THE BAKER - -The astonishing discovery that Mr. Seymour and Blackbeard, as he called -the stranger to himself, had dealings in common kept Martin awake for a -good many hours. - -He acknowledged that there was no reason why they should not have -business relations, but there seemed to be something underhand in these -stealthy visits by night. - -When he got up in the morning he went straight into Dick Gollop’s room, -and roused him. - -“What do you want?” asked the constable, sleepily. “It’s not my watch -yet.” - -“Wake up and listen!” replied Martin. - -“Been fighting again, eh?” - -“No. Do wake up; it’s something you ought to know.” - -“Well, spin your yarn, and don’t be long about it, or my eyes’ll shut, -and then my ears won’t be no manner of good.” - -Martin wasted no words in recounting the story of Blackbeard’s two -midnight visits and the conveying up to Mr. Seymour’s room of the two -brass-bound boxes. Gollop began to snore in the middle of it, but was -roused again by a vigorous shake. - -“And you spoil a man’s sleep for that!” the constable grumbled. “I -wouldn’t have thought it of you!” - -“But surely——” - -“Now, look here, my lad!” said Gollop, raising himself on one elbow, -“don’t you go for to teach me anything about the law.” - -“I wasn’t going——” - -“Stow your gab and hark to me! Ain’t I a constable, and therefore a man -of law? Well, then, I tell you there’s nothing in the law to prevent a -man, two men, forty men, bringing a box, two boxes, forty boxes, into a -house at any watch o’ the night, dog-watch included.” - -“But——” - -“Don’t interrupt. If so be I was to run athwart the course of a man -conveying a box in the middle watches it ’ud be my bounden duty to hail -him and ask where he was bound for—if ’twas in the street, mind you, -and I was on my rounds. But when a man has got across his own -threshold—set his foot on his own deck in a manner of speaking—then I -question him at my peril.” - -“Couldn’t you search the house?” - -“Not being an inward-bound ship, nor me a customs officer, I couldn’t, -not without a warrant.” - -“Why not get a warrant?” asked Martin. - -“Why not? Because there’s no reason to think there’s anything contraband -in them boxes; and, what’s more, because I’m dead sleepy. So just you -set a course for your baker’s shop, my lad; what you can’t help, make -the best of.” - -Martin was by no means satisfied that the constable’s exposition of the -law was sound, but it was clearly impossible to do anything more with -him until he had finished his sleep. - -That morning, Martin, in the course of his duty, boarded a vessel moored -near Wapping which he had already visited several times, and where he -had established friendly relations with the cook. - -“Two quarterns to-day, and mind they’re not stale,” said the cook. - -“We never have any stale; our bread sells like hot cakes,” said Martin. - -“Well, there’s a new customer for you astern there.” - -The cook pointed to a vessel at anchor a few cables’ lengths down the -river. - -“Why, isn’t that the Portugal ship that was repairing at Deptford?” -Martin asked. - -“Ay, that’s her. She came up out of the yard on the tide yesterday.” - -“I saw her in the yard not long ago. She’s had her mainmast shot away by -the French, they said.” - -“True, that was the yarn. She’s a queer sort of vessel, by all accounts. -The crew are all black-haired men, but that you’d expect, being -Portugals or Levantines, or summat outlandish. What’s queer is that -they’re never allowed leave on shore. Even in Deptford, when the ship -was being overhauled, they had to sling their hammocks in an old -warehouse on the riverside. They was marched about like a lot of -prisoners—conveyed there and back by the officers—and a dark-looking -lot they are too. - -“The captain’s a white man—white, says I, meaning he’s not a nigger, -for his face is the colour of beer, and his hair as black as coal, and -his beard like a horse’s mane. And it’s well his crew are foreigners, -for true-born Englishmen wouldn’t stand that sort of treatment; there’d -be mutiny aboard, trust me. But there’s no proper spirit in those -Portugals; I don’t call ’em men.” - -“They’re men enough to eat English bread, I expect,” said Martin. - -“See that you get English money. I wouldn’t trust ’em far,” declared the -cook. - -Martin laughed as he went down the side. He had already got one or two -new customers for his master, and he was so much interested in this -Portugal vessel that he felt rather excited at the prospect of boarding -her. - -But as he rowed towards her he began to have qualms. It was members of -her crew that had chased him that night when he had rowed Boulter’s -wherry down to Deptford and picked up the fugitive boy. He remembered -their wild looks and savage cries; above all, he remembered the face of -the man who had urged them on—the man who had been his -passenger—Blackbeard himself. What if he were recognised when he ran -alongside the vessel? - -This idea daunted him, and swinging the boat round, he headed up the -river. But before he was half-way back to London Bridge he wished he had -taken the risk. After all, what had he to fear? Blackbeard might not be -aboard the ship; the crew had seen him only indistinctly in the dusk, -and they had been more intent on the boy he had taken into the boat than -on himself. - -Further, suppose Blackbeard did recognise him, what then? He would know -him only as the rower of the wherry, who had allowed a boy swimming in -the river to climb into his boat for safety. There was nothing in that; -anyone else might have done the same. Blackbeard could not know that he -lived in the same house as Mr. Seymour, and was aware of his mysterious -visits to that gentleman. - -But though he repented his timidity, he felt that he had come too far to -return now. As it turned out, he was glad of his decision, for in the -evening, just before closing time at the shop, when he was sweeping up -the flour and breadcrumbs that littered the floor, and had his back to -the door, he was startled to hear behind him the husky voice of the man -he had been thinking about. - -“Pardon, sir,” said the voice; and Martin noticed that it had a foreign -accent, not at all like that in which Blackbeard had spoken to Mr. -Seymour. - -He glanced over his shoulder, thinking he might be mistaken; but no, he -could not mistake that swarthy face and strangely-trimmed beard. - -“Pardon, sir, are you the baker as send bread to the ships on the -river?” - -“I am, to be sure,” said Mr. Faryner. - -“Then I beg you send three breads regular all the days to the _Santa -Maria_ what lie by Wapping.” - -“Are you the captain?” - -“I am so.” - -“Very well, I will send the bread, and you will pay on the spot?” - -“Without doubt, yes, I will pay. Good-night.” - - - - - CHAPTER THE FOURTEENTH - - - ON BOARD THE _SANTA MARIA_ - -Before Martin started on his river journey next morning, Mr. Faryner -impressed upon him that he must not leave bread upon the _Santa Maria_ -without payment. - -“I’ve been done before now,” said the baker. “I’ve given credit to -foreign captains and they’ve sailed away without settling. Once bit, -twice shy.” - -Martin visited his regular customers as usual, then rowed on to the -Portugal vessel, which lay some distance from the other ships, and was -the last for that morning’s delivery. - -His fears of the previous evening had left him, but he was conscious of -a rather quickening pulse as he brought his boat under the side. -Dark-browed men, leaning on the bulwarks, peered curiously at him, and -he could not help wondering whether one or another of them might -recognise his features. - -A rope ladder hung from the waist. Catching hold of this, he looked up -and called: - -“Bread for the _Santa Maria_.” - -To his surprise none of the men answered. They continued to stare at him -but did not change their positions. Even if they did not understand -English, he thought they might guess his errand from the sight of the -loaves in his basket. - -“Bread,” he called again, “ordered by the captain.” - -Then someone repeated the word _capitano_, and Martin inferred from the -way they talked among themselves that the captain was not on board. -Emboldened by this discovery, Martin pointed to the loaves, and made -signs that they were intended for the ship. - -“Ha, Sebastian,” cried one of the men. - -A few moments later a very fat man came from behind and pushed his way -through to the side. His swarthy cheeks hung like dewlaps over his thick -neck, his shirt was open, revealing a massive chest almost as dark as -his face. - -“What want?” he said. - -“The captain ordered these loaves from the King’s baker,” Martin -replied. - -“Up, up,” said the man, whose English appeared to be limited to -monosyllables. - -Martin began to do as he had been instructed: to place the loaves in a -small sack, sling this on his back, and swarm up the ladder. But when -Sebastian, whom he supposed to be the cook, saw his intention, he cried -“No, no,” waved him back, and let down a rope, indicating that Martin -was to tie the sack to that. - -There seemed to be nothing else to be done, though Martin was -disappointed: he had hoped for an opportunity of seeing something of -this mysterious vessel. The sack was drawn up; the man took it in his -huge dirty hands, and was turning away when Martin detained him by -calling out the word “money,” at the same time jingling the bag that -contained his morning’s takings. - -“No money; captain not here,” said the man. “Come again other time.” - -“I can’t do that,” said Martin. “My master’s orders were not to go -without the money.” - -“Basta!” exclaimed the cook; then he turned on his heel and disappeared. - -Without an instant’s hesitation, Martin hitched his painter to the rope -ladder, and, swarming up, sprang on to the deck. The seamen made way for -him, and looked on impassively as he darted across the deck. - -[Illustration] - -The cook was on the point of entering the galley, carrying the sack -slung loosely across his shoulders. He turned as he heard quick -footsteps, but was too late to prevent Martin from snatching the sack -away. - -The man snarled an ejaculation in his own tongue, and lurched heavily -forward with arms outstretched as if to recapture the sack. But Martin -skipped back, held the sack behind him, and said firmly: - -“I must have two shillings, or I cannot leave the bread.” - -Before the cook could reply, one of the crew made a remark which drew a -roar of laughter from his mates, and brought a fierce scowl upon -Sebastian’s face, and a torrent of angry words from his lips. Martin -noticed how his multiple chin shook as he denounced the men who were -chaffing him. - -He came on, threateningly, and Martin edged back, intending to toss the -sack into the boat and at least save his bread. But at this moment there -appeared round the side of the galley a slight, thin, dusky-faced boy, -in whom Martin at once recognised the child he had vainly tried to save -from his pursuers a few nights before. The boy’s manner suggested that -curiosity had drawn him to see what was going on. - -His appearance served to divert the cook’s wrath. Turning aside, -Sebastian dealt the boy a heavy blow that struck him sprawling upon the -deck, and lifted his foot to kick him as he lay. With a sudden spring -Martin thrust himself between the bully and his victim. - -For a moment there was dead silence; then a jesting remark from the -seaman who had spoken before evoked loud guffaws from the rest of the -crew. Purple with rage, Sebastian aimed a kick at Martin, who evaded it -by a quick sidelong movement, at the same time swinging his sack and -banging the man on the side of the head. - -The sudden blow upset his balance. He toppled sideways, and with a -resounding thump measured his huge bulk on the deck. The boy, meanwhile, -had picked himself up and darted into the galley. - -At this moment a man, somewhat better dressed than the others, came up -through the open hatchway and uttered a few words in a commanding tone -of voice. Martin guessed that he was demanding the meaning of the -uproar. A babel of explanations broke from the crew. The newcomer -silenced them with a stern gesture, his uneasy manner suggesting he was -anxious to put a stop to the scene and avoid further trouble. - -With a contemptuous look at Sebastian, who had now risen to his feet, he -ordered him away, and opening a wallet that was slung at his belt, made -signs that Martin was to take from it the money due to him. Martin -picked out two shillings, emptied the sack on the deck, then clambered -down the side into his boat and rowed away. - -Remembering the vindictive scowl on the cook’s face as he slunk off, he -wondered whether his impetuous action might not have done the boy more -harm than good. He felt a great pity for the wretched-looking little -fellow, with his thin cheeks and wistful, melancholy eyes. - -“I wasn’t much good to him before,” he thought, “and only got myself a -sore head. I suppose he is cook’s mate to that fat bully, and leads a -dog’s life on board this strange ship. No doubt they’ll tell Blackbeard -all about it when he comes on board, and I shouldn’t wonder if he -complains to Mr. Faryner, and I shall get into hot water again. Well, I -couldn’t do anything else, and as Dick Gollop says, what you can’t help, -make the best of.” - - - - - CHAPTER THE FIFTEENTH - - - COFFEE FOR TWO - -Martin debated with himself whether to tell Mr. Faryner what had -happened on board the _Santa Maria_. - -“If I mention the squabble he may think I’m a quarrelsome fellow,” he -said to himself ruefully. “He’ll say I get into trouble everywhere, on -land and on water too, and tell me to go. And I did want to go aboard -again: there’s something queer about that ship, and I’d like to know -more about her.” - -It happened when he got back to the shop that the baker was so much -concerned with another matter that he gave Martin no opportunity of -telling his story. - -“I’ve got another job for you, my lad,” he said. “You know Mr. Pasqua’s -coffee-house in Newman’s Court?” - -“No, sir; and I don’t know where Newman’s Court is,” Martin replied. - -“It’s off Cornhill; you know that. Well, Mr. Pasqua came himself this -morning and ordered a quantity of rolls and cakes to be sent to his -coffee-house. It’s a feather in my cap, my lad. He used to deal with -Grimes of Gracious Street, but he’s dissatisfied. I never did think much -of Grimes. Mr. Pasqua will be a very good customer if I please him, and -I promised that the things should be sent by one o’clock, and you’re -back just in time.” - -“Must I go before dinner, sir?” asked Martin, who had been out in the -heat since early morning. - -“Before dinner? Of course you must. What does your dinner matter when -there’s a new customer to be served? The basket will be ready in five -minutes; you can have your dinner presently. And let me tell you, you -must be very polite to Mr. Pasqua if you see him. He has been a servant, -and there’s no one more likely to take offence at want of politeness in -a servant than a man who has been a servant himself. And he’s a -foreigner too.” - -“A Frenchman, sir?” - -“No, a Sicilian. I wonder you haven’t heard of him. He was the servant -of an English merchant who lived in the East, and came back with his -master a few years ago to make coffee for him in the Eastern way. Mr. -Edwards, the merchant, had learnt the use of coffee-beans, and he was so -plagued and pestered by his friends and visitors wanting to taste the -new drink that he set his servant up in a coffee-house, and the man is -now a good deal richer than I am. Here’s the last batch.” - -A man came from the bakery bearing a tray laden with crisp brown rolls -and rice-cakes. These were placed in the basket and Martin set off. - -Following the fashion set by Mr. Pasqua, others had opened coffee-houses -in different parts of the city; but they were frequented only by -merchants and gentlemen, and Martin had never been inside one. It was -therefore with considerable interest that he entered the coffee-house in -Newman’s Court. - -It was a large square room with a counter at one end, on which stood -glistening urns, porcelain cups, and silver sugar-basins. Behind it was -a young woman with golden hair piled high upon her head. A kettle hung -from a hook over a wood-fire. - -Here and there about the room were small tables surrounded by wooden -chairs. At one side the room was partitioned off into compartments, some -with doors, within which the merchants could sip their coffee and talk -over their business in privacy. - -Two boys were serving customers at the tables, and a small, dark, -foreign-looking man was moving about, exchanging a word here and a word -there. - -When Martin entered with his laden basket, the foreigner, Mr. Pasqua -himself, came up to him, and speaking in very good English, said: - -“You are from Faryner’s, boy?” - -“Yes, sir.” - -“You are in very good time. It is not yet one o’clock, and I am pleased. -Grimes’s boy was late, over and over again, and I was in danger of -losing my customers, the gentlemen who honour me. Tell Mr. Faryner that -he has begun well. And now let me see what you have brought.” - -He took a cake and a roll from the basket, and bit each of them in turn. - -“Very good,” he said, as he munched, smacking his lips and blinking his -eyelids. Martin was amused at the little man’s serious air. - -Calling one of his boys, he bade him take the basket to the signorina. -This was evidently the young woman behind the counter, but as she spoke -in a very decided London accent Martin felt sure she was not a foreigner -and wondered why she was so called. It was a harmless affectation of Mr. -Pasqua’s, like that which, in those days of Charles II, gave Italian -names to English musicians and mountebanks. - -While the basket was being emptied, Mr. Pasqua said to Martin: - -“You look tired, boy. Would you like a cup of coffee?” - -“I have never tasted it, sir,” Martin answered. - -“Then this shall be a great day in your life. A cup of coffee, -signorina.” - -A small cup was brought to Martin. Sipping it, he made a wry face. - -“Ah! You find it bitter,” said Mr. Pasqua. “But stir it with the spoon, -then taste again.” - -At the bottom of the cup was thick brown sugar. Martin stirred and -tasted. - -“That is good, eh?” said the man, smiling. “It will refresh you. And you -shall have another cup when you come the next time.” - -At this moment a bell rang in one of the closed compartments. Mr. Pasqua -himself hurried to answer the summons. As the door opened, Martin was -startled, and hastily turned his head. Seated at the little table were -two men, Mr. Slocum and Mr. Seymour. - -He was careful not to look towards them again, and was glad when the -empty basket was brought to him and he was able to get out into the -street. - -His first feeling was relief that he had not been seen by Mr. Slocum. He -thoroughly distrusted his former employer, and was ready to believe that -he would not hesitate to make mischief with Mr. Pasqua. - -“Why am I always coming across that man?” he thought. - -Then as he walked back towards Pudding Lane, he grew uneasy and -suspicious. It was a shock to him that Mr. Slocum and Mr. Seymour were -acquainted. He had seen each of them at different times with Blackbeard, -and the fact that all three were acquainted brought a crowd of -recollections to his mind. - -He remembered that he had seen Mr. Slocum carrying a brass-bound box -exactly like those which Blackbeard had brought to Mr. Seymour. He -recalled how angry Mr. Slocum had been on that occasion, without any -obvious reasonable cause. - -Blackbeard’s visits to Mr. Seymour had been secret. Was Mr. Slocum’s -anger due to the fact that he also had something to conceal? What was -the connection between the three men? Had it anything to do with the -boxes? What did they contain? Were they part of the cargo of the _Santa -Maria_?—perhaps held smuggled goods? - -Puzzling about these questions, Martin suddenly thought of another—one -that startled him. What was the nature of the business between Mr. -Slocum and the old Frenchman? - -The question came as a surprise to Martin himself. At first he did not -understand what had given rise to it, but he found himself fitting -together incidents that had previously seemed unrelated, and the more he -thought of them the more disturbed he grew. - -Hitherto no one had been able to account for the strange attacks on the -Frenchman’s room. But Martin now remembered that the face he had seen -one night at the window was the face of the man who had waylaid him -going an errand for Mr. Slocum. He remembered also Mounseer’s dislike of -Mr. Seymour—and Mr. Seymour knew Mr. Slocum. It was odd that, somehow -or other, Mr. Slocum came into everything. - -What was the mystery behind it all? To all appearance the Frenchman -possessed nothing that was worth stealing; yet what other motive than -robbery could anyone have had for breaking into his room? Mounseer knew -Mr. Slocum. Mr. Slocum knew Mr. Seymour, and that gentleman, in spite of -his politeness and his neighbourly intentions, was evidently suspected -and detested by the Frenchman. - -Martin began to feel very much worried, and had the extraordinary -conviction that the clue to the whole mystery lay with Mr. Slocum. - -“I dare say it’s very silly,” he thought; “it’s simply because I dislike -the man. Yet I can’t help it. The question is, what is Mr. Slocum at?” - -This question was dinning in Martin’s head as he walked back along the -street. So intent was he on his own thoughts that he stepped rather -heedlessly, and was brought up by the sudden collision with a man -proceeding in the opposite direction. The man let out a savage oath, and -Martin, uttering an apology, edged away, only then recognising that the -angry footfarer was Blackbeard. - -Fortunately, he thought, he had not himself been recognised, and, -allowing a short interval to elapse, he had the curiosity to follow the -man. It was with no surprise that he saw him enter Mr. Pasqua’s -coffee-house. Beyond doubt he was going to meet the two men whom Martin -had already seen there. - -More curious than ever, Martin wished that he could find some means of -discovering what the three conspirators, as he now considered them, were -about to discuss. He thought of going in and buying a cup of coffee on -the chance that he might learn something, but after a moment’s -reflection gave up the idea; there would be too much danger of his being -caught. - - - - - CHAPTER THE SIXTEENTH - - - WHAT MARTIN FOUND - -The tide was running strong up the river when Martin started on his -round next morning. There was promise that the day would be hotter than -ever, but the wind, blowing briskly from the east, tempered the heat, -though at the same time it rendered doubly hard the task of rowing the -heavy wherry. - -Martin was just pulling away from a brig at which he had delivered some -loaves, when a boat, sculled by a single seaman, passed him in the -opposite direction. He recognised it at once as the boat belonging to -the _Santa Maria_, and the oarsman as the man who found it so difficult -to keep awake. - -Previously he had seen him only in the evening, and he could not help -feeling curious as to what his errand was. - -After visiting in turn the ships on his list, and scratching off the -name of one that had left her moorings, he came at length to the last, -the _Santa Maria_. - -“She won’t be here long,” he thought, noticing that a lighter lay on -each side of her. - -From the one on the starboard side cargo was being hoisted on board by -means of a clumsy kind of derrick. He made his boat fast to the other, -put the loaves into his sack, threw the empty basket into the stern, -and, with the sack slung over his shoulder, swarmed up by a rope that -hung from a second derrick, placed ready for use when the second lighter -should be discharged. - -All hands were busy with the cargo. Some of the crew grinned when they -recognised him, and as he looked inquiringly round they pointed to the -cook’s galley. Wondering what his reception would be, he went on, and -found the fat man frying some fish on his brazier, the timid-looking boy -standing by with a flask of oil. - -The cook glanced at Martin with a surly scowl, and paid him no further -attention until he had turned out the fried fish on to a plate standing -on a tray. Then he took one of the fresh, crisp rolls that Martin had -brought, set this also on the tray, and ordered the boy to carry -breakfast to the captain. - -The boy had only just gone, and Sebastian was counting the contents of -Martin’s sack, when the captain, Blackbeard himself, came along, as if -attracted by the smell of the frizzling fish. Catching sight of Martin -he stopped, looked hard at him for a moment or two, then, in his husky -voice with its foreign intonation, asked: - -“What you do here?” - -“I have brought the bread from Mr. Faryner,” Martin replied. - -“Ah!” There was a slight pause. “I see you before?” he said. - -It was clear that he had not at once recognised Martin as the boy who in -the evening dusk had rowed him down the river. Anxious to avoid -identification, Martin answered: - -“I was in Mr. Faryner’s shop when you came to give your order.” - -“Ah! So! I see you there—yes—perhaps. I think so.” - -But there was a puzzled look on his face as he followed the boy with the -tray, and Martin was on thorns lest clearer recollection should come to -him. - -Having counted the loaves and rolls, the cook, who had not addressed a -word to Martin, went away to fetch the money for them. Martin would not -have been surprised if he had been summoned to the captain’s cabin; but -Sebastian on his return simply handed him the coins, and he was free to -go. - -Without loss of time he swarmed down on to the lighter, threw his sack -upon the upturned basket in the stern of the boat rocking alongside, -hauled on the painter until the boat was near enough for him to step in, -then cast loose, drifting on the tide while he got out his oars. Then he -pulled the boat round, but rested on the oars as he looked back at the -_Santa Maria_. - -“Perhaps I ought to have asked when she is sailing,” he thought. “But I -suppose Blackbeard will give notice. I wonder what her cargo is and -where she is bound for? Perhaps Mr. Seymour and Mr. Slocum are engaged -in some venture overseas, and there is nothing really to be suspicious -about.” - -He was still in a sort of daydream, moving the oars only enough to keep -the boat’s head straight, when a shout ahead roused him. Glancing over -his shoulder, he saw a ferryboat crossing his bows. A collision seemed -inevitable, but he eased his left oar and put all his strength into his -right, and scraped by with an inch or two to spare, the ferryman pouring -out a torrent of abuse such as only the Thames waterman of those days -could command. - -The boat rocked under the sudden change of course and the wash of the -ferryboat. Martin pulled her round again, and noticed that the basket -had shifted slightly. It was now partly resting on its side against the -stern thwart. And then he caught sight of something dark between the rim -of the basket and the floor of the boat—something that surprised him so -much that for a few moments he ceased rowing and could only stare. - -It was a small dark-skinned foot, the toes and instep just protruding -from the basket. - -“Who’s there?” he called. - -The foot was suddenly withdrawn, the basket moved, settling down so as -to cover completely the person underneath. - -“I’ve seen you; you’d better show yourself,” said Martin. An idea struck -him, and he added: “Just show your face.” - -The basket moved again, and now Martin saw without surprise the dark, -pathetic face of the cook’s boy of the _Santa Maria_. - -“Don’t come out. I’ll row on,” he said. - -He looked back towards the _Santa Maria_, now some two hundred yards -astern. The crew were still hoisting and stowing the cargo; there was no -sign of excitement, nothing to show that the boy had been missed. - -Martin rowed on in silence for a few minutes until the bend in the river -hid the vessel from sight. Then he said again: - -“Don’t come out. Keep the basket over you. But tell me why you are on my -boat, and what it is that you want.” - - - - - CHAPTER THE SEVENTEENTH - - - STOP, THIEF! - -It was a strange scene—had anyone witnessed it. But Martin was careful -to keep out of the course of passing wherries, and so far from the ships -at anchor that the bottom of his boat was not visible from their decks. -The rim of the basket rested on the boy’s neck, and his dusky face, with -its large pleading eyes upturned towards Martin, looked as though it -projected from the planking. - -“Me run away,” said the boy in a strange, high-pitched sing-song. “No -takee me back. No let catchee me. I pray sahib very much.” - -“Where do you come from?” said Martin. “What are you?” - -“Me India boy, come long way over black water. They beat me. See!” - -He moved the basket a little, disclosing his thin, bare arms and legs, -on which were old scars and the long livid weals of recent lashes. - -“Cover yourself,” said Martin hastily. “Go on. Tell me more.” - -The boy went on to relate, in his halting broken English, a story that -Martin heard with indignation and pity. His name was Gundra, and his -parents were servants of an English merchant at Surat. He had been -allowed to run in and out of the merchant’s godowns, and had thus picked -up the little English he knew. - -One day, when he was straying some little distance from the factory, he -was kidnapped by two big men, who carried him aboard their ship. There -he had been kept as a slave, half-starved, and cruelly used. He had not -one real friend among the crew, though the captain now and then -interposed when the fat cook was thrashing him. - -So wretched was his life that he had long wished he might die, and if he -were taken back to the ship he would throw himself overboard and let -himself drown, though he could swim, as the sahib had seen. More than -once he had been tempted to destroy himself, but had been restrained by -the hope that some day he might be rescued and restored to his home. - -“Keep me to be your slave, sahib,” he pleaded. “Me do all you tell.” - -The boy’s woebegone look, and the sight of the wounds on his limbs, -moved Martin so deeply that he had already determined to do what he -could to save him from his oppressors. But he foresaw great -difficulties. What could he do with the boy? There was no room in Dick -Gollop’s apartments; besides, he felt sure the constable, as a man of -law, would hold strong views about the offence of harbouring runaways. - -Yet he could not land the boy and leave him to his own devices. He would -be taken up as a vagrant, and what would become of him then? His lot -could hardly be worse than it had been on board the _Santa Maria_; but -Martin felt that by giving the boy shelter he had shouldered a certain -responsibility, and that he must not throw the little fellow into the -uncertain hands of chance. - -While he was thinking over the problem so suddenly thrust upon him, he -had been paddling gently, but the swift-flowing tide had already borne -the boat a good distance up the river. It was clear that he must come to -a decision within a few minutes. - -He had no friends but the Gollops and some of the watermen, and he could -not place the boy with them until he had consulted them. The idea of -running up as far as Battersea or Chelsea, and leaving Gundra there -until later, occurred to him; but he was due to return to the shop, and -he shrank from incurring Mr. Faryner’s displeasure. If it had been -evening, as on the former occasion, he might have left the boy in the -boat until after dark, but there were still many hours of daylight to -run, and the boat would be a very insecure shelter, even if the boy were -hidden under sacking. - -After much thought he decided that the simplest course was the best. He -would land at the stairs nearest his home, take the boy there as quickly -as possible, hand him over to good-hearted Susan Gollop, and go back to -his work. What was ultimately to be done with Gundra must be left for -discussion with the constable and his wife after the day’s work was -done. - -There were two or three boats at the foot of the stairs as Martin -approached, intending to land on the up-river side. But as he pulled in -towards them he suddenly noticed that one of the boats on that side was -the ship’s boat of the _Santa Maria_, which he had passed when rowing -down. The foreign seaman was in his usual attitude when waiting, half -doubled up in the stern, and apparently asleep. - -Martin at once altered his course, bearing hard on his right oar so as -to bring the boat to the nearer side of the stairs. At the same time he -gave Gundra an urgent warning to keep himself well covered by the -basket. - -He pulled easily in to the landing-place. The other boats were -unoccupied, the watermen, their owners, being out of sight, though no -doubt within hail. - -Martin was beginning to tie his boat to the post when footsteps on the -stairs above caused him to look up. It was with a feeling almost of -dismay that he saw Mr. Seymour coming down, carrying a large square -object wrapped in sacking—no doubt a box, perhaps one of the -brass-bound boxes that Blackboard had brought to the house. Behind him -came a man laden with a similar burden. - -“Next oars, sir?” called a hoarse, loud voice, and a waterman appeared -at the head of the steps. “Next oars” was the phrase commonly used by -watermen plying for hire. - -“Not to-day,” replied Mr. Seymour over his shoulder. “I have my own -boat.” - -The waterman growled about people who did honest men out of a living, -and walked away. - -Martin was desperately anxious that Mr. Seymour should not observe him. -He dared not go up the stairs and meet him face to face; not that he had -any dread of a meeting for himself, but because of his knowledge of the -runaway boy and his new-born suspicions of Mr. Seymour’s relations with -Blackbeard and Mr. Slocum. - -Turning his back to the stairs, he fumbled with his painter, as if he -found a difficulty in tying up the boat. He had, in fact, tied, untied, -and tied again before Mr. Seymour and his companion had stowed their -burdens on board, and his back was still towards them when he knew by -the thudding of the oars in the rowlocks that their boat had put off. - -It was some little time before he allowed himself to face about, hoping -that the danger of recognition was past. But he had not reckoned with -the strength of the current. The seaman, pulling the heavily-weighted -boat against the stream, had made only a few yards. Mr. Seymour’s face -was turned towards the shore. He caught sight of Martin, waved his hand -in recognition, and smiled in his usual pleasant way. - -“He doesn’t guess what I’ve got under my basket,” Martin thought, at the -same time feeling unreasonably annoyed at having been recognised at all. - -Now that the coast was clear he paddled round to the side of the stairs, -and tied up his wherry at the place vacated by the ship’s boat, wasting -time until that craft was well out of sight. Then, after a look all -round, he lifted the basket. - -“Come with me,” he said to the Indian boy, taking him by the hand, and -slinging the basket over his other arm. - -Hand in hand they ascended the stairs. Lolling against a rail was the -waterman who had offered his wherry to Mr. Seymour—a man whom he knew. - -“Ahoy, young master! What have you got there?” said the man, looking -quizzingly at the dark-faced boy, who, at the sound of his rough voice, -shrank timidly to Martin’s side and clasped his hand more tightly. - -“An Indian boy come ashore to see London,” Martin replied. “There’s no -need to mention it if questions are asked.” - -“Mum’s the word, eh? Ay, ay, I’ll keep my tongue under hatches, never -fear.” - -The two boys had walked only a few yards when they came upon the man who -had accompanied Mr. Seymour. He was seated on a tree-stump, smoking, -idly watching the river. As the boys passed him he turned and looked at -them, but Martin could not gather from his expression whether he had -paid them any special attention or not. A few minutes afterwards, -however, when they were going up the gentle hill that would presently -bring them to Bishopsgate, Martin chanced to turn his head, and saw, -with a feeling of alarm, that the man was following. - -In a flash he realised that while he had been watching Mr. Seymour the -other man must have been watching him. No doubt he had noticed how he -was acting for the purpose of consuming time. Martin had never seen the -man before, and felt sure that he knew nothing about him, but had -guessed that he had something to conceal from Mr. Seymour. What could be -done to shake him off? - -Martin knew every inch of this part of London, lying between the river -and his home. A minute or two after he had assured himself that the man -was indeed dogging him, he turned suddenly into a narrow court, dropped -Gundra’s hand, and telling the boy to keep pace with him, started to -run. - -But he was hindered by his basket. The man must have started to run -also, for before the boys had gained the end of the court the pursuer -was hard on their heels. To make matters worse, he shouted. “’Ware! -’ware! Stop, thief!” - -No one was at the moment passing in the court, but windows flew open, -heads looked out, and Martin knew that it was only a matter of minutes -before the chase would be in full cry. - -Dashing out of the court with the Indian, he ran a few yards along the -street, then darted into a narrow alley on the other side. In a moment -he realised the mistake into which his haste had led him. The place was -a cul-de-sac; there was no opening at the farther end. He was trapped. - - - - - CHAPTER THE EIGHTEENTH - - - SALLY TAKES A HAND - -For a moment or two Martin felt as a hunted fox might feel when the -chase had driven it into an enclosure from which there was no escape. - -The narrow alley, a sort of tunnel under the houses, opened into a -broader yard, bounded on the one side by a high blank wall, on the other -by the palings of square grass plots in front of a row of small houses. -At the farther end another wall presented an obstacle which only a cat -could have climbed. - -But just as Martin was on the verge of despair he caught sight of a -familiar figure, and in a flash he saw a possible chance of safety. - -On one of the grass plots a buxom woman was bending over a large washtub -that stood on a three-legged stool. A clothes-line, propped on poles, -was extended from a nail in the house-wall to one of the palings, and -from it hung a blue shirt, a pair of stockings, a spotted neck-cloth, -and other articles, pegged up to dry in the sun. - -“Sally Boulter!” Martin exclaimed, rushing through the little gate. - -He had recognised her as the wife of his friend Boulter the waterman, to -whom she sometimes brought his dinner to the stairs. - -“Please let us come into your house,” he went on breathlessly. “There’s -a man after us.” - -“Well, to be sure!” she cried, keeping her hands in the tub. “In with -you, young master.” - -The boys ran past her into the open doorway of the little house. At the -same moment the pursuer, red-faced with running, came out of the alley -into the yard. Apparently he had seen the boys before they disappeared, -for he pounded along straight to Mrs. Boulter’s gate. - -When he reached it he found it closed, and on the other side of it a -strapping young woman, her stout, muscular arms bared to the shoulder, -and in her hands a blanket which she had just wrung dry. Her lips were -pressed close together, and her friends would have said that she was in -a difficult mood. - -Brought up by the gate, the man asked, rather gaspingly: - -“Have you seen a baker’s boy and a blackamoor?” - -“Have I seen—what did you say?” replied Sally. - -“A baker’s boy.” - -“Many a one; baker’s boys aren’t that uncommon.” - -“Just now, I mean.” - -Sally looked up and down the yard. - -“No, I can’t see a baker’s boy just now,” she said. “But if you want a -baker’s boy, there’s a baker just round the corner, and another two -streets away. I’m busy with my man’s washing, so don’t bother me no -more.” - -“Don’t you talk of bothers, mistress,” said the man, tartly. “You’ll be -more bothered yet if you’re not careful. Didn’t I see the tail-end of -the basket going into your door? The baker’s boy is inside, and the -blackamoor too, and I’ve something to say to them, so——” - -He suddenly pushed open the gate, forcing the woman back a pace, and was -starting to run across the grass towards the house. But Sally was a -woman of spirit. Whirling the roll of blanket round her head she brought -it with a swish across the man’s neck, hurling him against the washtub. -He caught at the rim to steady himself, disturbing the balance of the -tub upon its stool. It toppled over with a crash, and the man lay -between the stool and the tub in a pool of soapy water. - -“What’s all this, missus?” cried a bluff voice. - -In the doorway stood the burly waterman, Boulter himself, surveying the -scene. Above his breeches he wore nothing but his shirt. - -“Wants bakers’ boys and blackamoors, he does,” answered his wife, -jerking her elbow towards the fallen man. “Pushes in, he does, and -upsets my washtub; clumsy, I call it.” - -“He does, does he!” said the waterman, licking his hands as he stepped -out on to the grass. “Bakers’ boys, and blackamoors, _and_ washtubs, -does he? Pushes in, does he? I’m thinking it’s black eyes what he really -wants.” - -With every sentence he had drawn a step nearer to the discomfited -intruder, who, spluttering with soapsuds, was still recumbent in the -swamp, half-hidden by the tub. - -“Get up!” cried Boulter. - -The man pushed the tub off, and rose slowly to his feet. - -“Out you go, after that,” the waterman continued, kicking the man’s hat -over the fence into the yard. - -The man slunk through the gateway, leaving a trail of soapsuds. - -“Messing up my garden!” growled Boulter, close on his heels. “Pick up -your hat.” - -As soon as the man had recovered his dripping hat he set off to run to -the alley-way. But Boulter took a stride forward, seized him by the -collar, and marched him down the yard, prodding him on with regular -applications of a bony knee. - -“I’ll learn you to come pushing into decent folk’s gardens!” said the -waterman. “On a Saturday too! After bakers’ boys and blackamoors! And -washtubs! Spilling the water! You get out!” - -He had come to the entrance of the alley, and with a parting kick sent -the man headlong towards the street. - -“Now don’t you tell me nothing,” he said to Martin when he returned to -the house. “I’m much mistook if I didn’t see this blackamoor aboard that -there Portugal ship, and if I don’t hear no stories I won’t tell no -lies, for there may be questions asked.” - -“Very well, Boulter,” said Martin. “Thank you very much for your help. -Will it be safe for us to go home now?” - -“I’ll see to that,” said the waterman. - -He accompanied the boys to the street. Lurking at the corner stood the -pursuer. On seeing Boulter he shambled away in the direction of the -river. - -“Drawed out of action,” said Boulter with a chuckle. “You’ve a clear -course on t’other tack, and I reckon you’ll come safe to port.” - - - - - CHAPTER THE NINETEENTH - - - GUNDRA DISAPPEARS - -Gundra, the Indian boy, had been a silent, nervous spectator of these -scenes. His lean body seemed to be quivering from top to toe when Martin -once more struck away for home, and the curious glances of the persons -they met brought a scared look into his eyes. - -“Cheer up!” said Martin, noticing his timorousness. “We’ll soon be home, -and I’m sure Susan Gollop will be kind to you.” - -But the first aspect of Susan Gollop made Gundra shrink back and clutch -Martin by the sleeve. The good woman was beating a mat on the waste -ground at the rear of the house, and the vigour of her strokes with the -cane, and the fierce set of her mouth, seemed to promise little -kindness. - -“Here’s a poor little Indian boy, Susan,” Martin began. - -“Don’t worry me!” Susan interrupted. “I’m late as it is; Gollop will be -roaring for his breakfast in a minute. And why aren’t you at your work, -I’d like to know?” - -All the same, she looked inquisitively at the shrinking child. Martin, -knowing her morning temper of old, discreetly said nothing, but took -Gundra back into the house, and set him on a stool with a wedge of -treacle-cake from the table. - -Presently Susan came in, flung the mat upon the floor; then, placing her -hands on her hips, stood over the boys and demanded: - -“Now what’s all this about? Who’s this black boy?” - -“He’s an Indian, and has run away from a ship where they were ill-using -him,” Martin replied. - -“Sakes alive! And what’s that to do with you, Martin Leake?” - -“I want to help him. I want you to keep him here for a day or two, until -we can decide what to do with him.” - -“Do with him? Take him back, to be sure. There’s no room for a runaway -here; you’ll get us all into trouble; and I can’t afford another mouth -to feed. I’m surprised at you. And you’ll be out of a job again. What -will Mr. Faryner say, neglecting your work like this?” - -“We can’t send him back, Susan, to be thrashed and half-starved,” Martin -began. - -He said no more, for Gundra slipped from the stool, fell upon his knees, -and holding up his bare arms, pleaded his own cause. - -“Not go back; not go back!” he cried piteously. “Me not eat much; me -work very, very hard!” - -“What’s them marks on his arms?” said Susan, suddenly. - -“Where’s he’s been lashed!” said Martin. - -“Wicked; downright wicked!” Susan exclaimed. “Poor lamb! What if he is -black? But I don’t know what Gollop will say.” - -At this moment the constable entered the room, his cheeks well lathered, -and shaving-brush in hand. - -“What’s that squeaky voice I hear?” he said. “Bless my eyes, who’s this -I see?” - -“You may well ask,” said Susan. “It’s a poor little creature of a slave -boy what’s run away.” - -“From that Portugal ship I’ve told you about,” Martin added. - -“Run away, has he?” said Gollop. “Then you’ll convoy him back as quick -as quick. Harbouring runaways is an offence in law, and as a man of law -’tis my bounden duty to give him up.” - -“For shame, Gollop!” said his wife, now completely won over. “You and -your law! What’s law, I’d like to know?” - -“Law’s your master and my living, woman,” said Gollop. “Don’t you make -any mistake about that. The boy’s a runaway, and back he goes.” - -“You’re a hard-hearted monster,” said Susan. “Look at this!” She seized -Gundra by the arm and drew him towards her husband. “Scars! Look at -’em!” - -“Show your back, Gundra,” said Martin. - -Susan herself pulled up the boy’s shirt and revealed livid streaks upon -his flesh. - -“Is there no law about that?” she demanded indignantly. - -The constable stood with his brush poised in his hand. - -“Them Portugals did that!” he cried. “Flog a poor little shrimp, eh? -Sink me if I give ’em another chance. I’m a freeborn Englishman, I am, -and law or no law, I’ll not give up any mortal soul, black or white, to -be treated that cruel. Cover him up, Sue. Split my timbers! I’ve never -seen anything like it.” He began to stamp up and down the room, kicking -over a stool, flourishing his soapy brush. “Brutes, that’s what they -are. How dare they run into an English port! Constable as I am, English -seaman I was, and sooner than send the poor little wretch back into a -ship where they treat them so savage, I’d—I’d——” - -He knocked over a chair. - -“I understand your feelings, Gollop,” said Susan mildly, “but you -needn’t smash the furniture. And you’ll want a steady hand for your -shaving, my man. Just go and make yourself tidy while I get your -breakfast.” - -“I will. Mind you, Sue, that boy stays here till the ship sails. Don’t -you give him up to no one whatsoever. And keep a still tongue. Don’t go -a-babbling.” - -“And keep him out of Mr. Seymour’s sight,” said Martin. - -“Why?” asked Susan in surprise. - -“Because—I’ll tell you later on. It’s a long story, and Mr. Faryner -will be in a rage with me if I don’t hurry back. I’m very late.” - -“What you can’t help, make the best of,” said Gollop, as he went back -into his bedroom to finish his interrupted toilet. - -The baker was in an irritable mood when Martin reached the shop. He had -had to find another messenger to carry the morning’s delivery of bread -and pastries to Mr. Pasqua’s coffee-house. His annoyance was increased -when Martin told him that the _Santa Maria_ was taking in cargo in -preparation for sailing. - -“They’ve given me no notice,” he said. “But I’ve given no credit, that’s -a blessing. What have you been doing all this time? Gaping at the -sailors, I suppose. I know you boys—eyes for anything but your proper -work. Get away into the back shop and scrub the floor.” - -Martin was thankful not to be questioned further. He had half expected -that by this time Mr. Faryner had been informed of his having brought an -Indian boy away from the ship, and he was on thorns for the rest of the -day. But nothing was said about it, and he left the shop at the usual -hour. - -When he got home, he found that Gundra was the centre of interest. -Seated on a settle beside Lucy, he was chatting cheerfully to the little -girl, answering her innumerable questions in his queer, broken English. - -“He is such a nice little boy,” she whispered to Martin. “I am so glad -you brought him.” - -Mrs. Gollop, in high good humour, was full of his praises. She related -how eagerly he had made himself useful, scouring her pots and pans, -peeling potatoes, and even showing her how to cook rice in the Indian -way. - -She had made him a shakedown in a cupboard under the stairs. - -“It’s a dark place,” she said, “and I won’t say but he’ll have mice for -company, but it was the only place I could think of, and when I’d swept -it out he was quite pleased with it. It’s very stuffy this hot weather, -but I told him to leave the door open when he goes to bed, or he’ll be -stifled. He’s a willing little fellow, that I will say.” - -The next day was Sunday, but Martin rose at his usual hour, because he -had to make a round with fresh hot rolls before the day was his own. He -noticed as he passed the cupboard under the stairs that the door, which -had been open when he said good-night to the boy, was now nearly closed. - -“Well, let it be,” said Susan, upon his telling her. “Them Indians live -in a hot country, by all that’s said, and he won’t mind the stuffiness. -And we won’t wake him; a long sleep will do him good, poor lamb.” - -Martin cleaned his boots and ate his breakfast; then, as he was about to -start for the shop, he thought he would peep into the cupboard and see -if the boy was awake. - -He listened at the door. There was no sound from within. Then very -cautiously he pulled the door towards him and looked in. The narrow -cupboard with its sloping roof was in black darkness, and for a few -moments his eyes could not distinguish even the shakedown on the floor. -But presently he was able to discern its dim outlines, and then he -started and hurriedly entered. - -Half a minute later he rushed back into the living-room, where Mrs. -Gollop was cleaning the hearth. - -“Susan,” he cried, “the cupboard is empty. Gundra has gone!” - -Mrs. Gollop was considerably upset. - -“Well, of all the ungrateful little wretches!” she exclaimed. “Coming -here whining and dropping on his knees, and me making up a bed for him -and all—and then to slink out without a word! I’ll never do anything -for a foreigner again.” - -“But we don’t know that he slunk out, Susan,” Martin protested. - -“We don’t _know_!” she retorted sarcastically. “Did he say good-bye to -_you_, then? Did you hear him go? And I warrant he didn’t go -empty-handed, either. Wait till I count my spoons!” - -“I don’t believe he’s a thief!” said Martin. “I don’t believe he ran -away. I believe someone got into the house and took him!” - -“Well, them that took him had a right to him, didn’t they? A good -riddance to bad rubbish! Now eat your fill, and be off; ’tis your first -Sunday with Mr. Faryner, and he won’t thank you if you’re late.” - -It was only six o’clock. Gollop had not returned from his nightly duty, -and Lucy was still asleep. Martin hurriedly swallowed a thick slice of -bread-and-dripping, thinking hard all the time, while Susan inspected -her drawers and cupboards to find evidence of the Indian boy’s knavery. - -“I’m sure he did not go willingly,” thought Martin. “Mr. Seymour’s man -saw him with me, and no doubt told Mr. Seymour, and he knows Blackbeard, -and—oh, what a puzzle everything is!” - -His mind was full of the matter as he started for the shop. He wondered -whether Mr. Seymour had let Blackbeard into the house during the -night—whether the boy was now back on board the _Santa Maria_, perhaps -at that very moment being thrashed by that fat bully the cook. And he -foresaw a very unpleasant time for himself when he took his bread to the -ship on Monday morning. - - - - - CHAPTER THE TWENTIETH - - - FIRE! FIRE! - -Within a minute or two Martin’s mind was taken off the fate of the -Indian boy by something much more actual and immediate. On turning the -corner he was aware that there were many more people in the streets than -was usual at that hour on Sunday morning. They were all hurrying in one -direction—the same direction as himself. There was excitement in their -looks and in the way they spoke to one another; some appeared to be -asking eager questions which those they addressed were in too great -haste to answer. - -He caught the word Fire! - -“Is there a fire? Where is it?” he asked a lad in a ’prentice’s cap who -was trotting over the cobblestones. - -“London Bridge,” panted the lad, and ran on. - -Martin began to run too. The crowd grew thicker; from every street and -lane poured men and boys, and a few women, some only half dressed, all -excited, all eager. From mouth to mouth ran the terrible word Fire! and -as the throng swelled their pace quickened, and their cries, mingling -with the clatter of their shoes, raised a din that strangely disturbed -the Sabbath quiet of the bright morning. - -“It must be a big fire,” thought Martin, and he remembered hearing -Gollop speak of a fire on London Bridge when he was a boy, which had -burned all night and destroyed more than forty houses. - -“Where is it? Where is it?” - -The question was repeated again and again as newcomers joined the crowd. -No one seemed to know with certainty. Some said London Bridge, others -Cannon Street. Nothing could be seen of it. The streets were narrow, the -houses high and overlapping in their upper storeys; between their tops -the sky was cloudless blue. - -The clamour grew louder; every now and then there were strange popping -noises which for a moment startled the crowd to silence. They ran faster -and faster, jostling one another, pushing aside the less active. Swept -along in the pouring tide, Martin found himself in Little Eastcheap, and -then, far ahead in that broader thoroughfare, he saw over the roofs a -brownish tinge in the sky. - -On and on he ran, his excitement growing with every step he took. At the -corner of Gracechurch Street the meeting streams of people made so dense -a block that for a while his progress was checked; he was hemmed in amid -a press of stout citizens, unable to see anything but their backs. - -His ears were deafened by their shouts, which rose above the distant -roar and crackle. Presently, when he again began to move onward, he -heard a man near him say, in a loud voice: - -“’Tis Pudding Lane, I tell you.” - -The words were taken up around him. Pudding Lane! The cry flew from lip -to lip, and stirred the crowd into a vast surging movement southward. - -“Pudding Lane! What house, I wonder?” thought Martin. “The Three Tuns, -perhaps; they’ve a lot of straw in their yard. Or perhaps it’s at -Noakes’s, the oil-man’s. His shop would blaze.” - -More and more eager to reach the scene of the fire, he began to push and -wriggle and worm his way through the mob, getting his toes trodden on, -and indignant thrusts and cuffings from those he incommoded. As he drew -nearer to his goal the roar swelled; at moments, when he was able to -look ahead, he saw dense clouds of smoke, brown and black, sweeping -across the housetops westward, carried swiftly along by the north-east -wind. - -After what seemed to be hours of struggling he arrived at the corner of -Fish Street Hill. The air was full of smoke and floating blacks and the -suffocating smell of burning. The crowd here was denser than ever; the -din louder and more terrible. Martin, already half-choked with the -smoke, felt that his breath would be squeezed out of him by the pressure -around. But he pushed and prodded, taking advantage of the least gap -that opened as the throng swayed, and by and by he managed to force his -way to a point where he should be able to see the houses on Fish Street -Hill and in Pudding Lane opposite. - -But where were the houses? He rubbed his smarting eyes, and looked and -looked again. There were no houses any more. Where the great Star Inn -had stood, with its galleries and yards and outbuildings, there was now -nothing but a black smouldering heap. All down the Hill, all down the -Lane, it was the same black waste and desolation: not a house remained -standing. And as he looked he saw flames burst from the belfry of St. -Magnus Church beyond, and a huge column of smoke shoot up around its -lofty tower. - -“The church is ablaze!” roared the crowd. - -“The parsonage too! Save us all!” - -Here and there among the throng were persons wringing their hands and -lamenting the loss of all their possessions. Martin forced his way to -one of them, and asked eagerly: - -“Have you seen Mr. Faryner?” - -“My house is gone—my house is gone!” was all the reply he received. - -He went from one to another, repeating his question; no one knew the -whereabouts of the baker. Martin felt anxious; the house and shop were -utterly destroyed, their site was occupied only by heaps of charred and -smouldering debris. Had Mr. Faryner and his family and journeyman -escaped? It was clear that the fire must have broken out in the middle -of the night. Had they been taken by surprise and perished in the -flames? - -Martin was at a loss what to do. His occupation was gone; there was no -bread for him to carry; he could learn nothing of his employer, and he -debated with himself whether to stay and watch the progress of the fire -or to run home and tell the Gollops what he had seen. Deciding for the -second course, he turned his back and tried to fight his way to -Gracechurch Street. But the crowd had enormously increased. There were -no policemen in those days to clear the streets, no firemen to dash up -with their engines and pour water on the flames. In the churches were -kept a few leather buckets and metal squirts, but they were useless in -so great a conflagration. - -An eddy in the stream of people carried Martin into Cannon Street, and -he suddenly found himself pressed against Mr. Faryner’s man. He was -swept past him, but managed to dodge back, and seized his arm firmly. - -“Where is Mr. Faryner?” he cried. - -“Safe and sound, thank God, with his friend the mercer in Cheapside,” -the man answered. “But he’s in a terrible state of mind, and no wonder, -seeing as the fire broke out in his shop.” - -“In our shop?” asked Martin, in amazement. - -“Ay, about two o’clock this morning. I woke out of my sleep feeling I -was choking, and the place was full of smoke. I roused the master. We -couldn’t get downstairs, so we had to climb through the garret window -and along a gutter-pipe to the roof next door. How we did it, Heaven -alone knows, and I wouldn’t venture it again for a thousand pounds.” - -“What caused the fire?” - -“Who knows? ’Tis my belief——” - -But at this moment there was a cry of “Make way for the Lord Mayor!” -People pushed this way and that, and in the commotion Martin was torn -from the man’s side and swept along the street. It was hopeless to -attempt to reach him again, or to take a direct course for home, and -Martin allowed himself to drift on the tide. - - - - - CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIRST - - - WHAT SUSAN FOUND - -The circular movement of the crowd brought Martin in time to a point -where he was able to see how swiftly the fire was spreading. The houses -at the end of London Bridge were ablaze. Between the bridge and -Fishmongers’ Hall was a warren of dilapidated timber houses intersected -by narrow alleys. Into those passages the strong wind bore sparks and -blazing fragments; the dry wood easily caught fire, and it was evident -that the whole district would soon be a furnace. - -And now the inhabitants, at first careless spectators, were seized with -panic fear, and in desperate haste began to move their goods and -furniture from the doomed houses. From every door they sallied forth, -laden with every article they could carry. There was a fierce demand for -trucks and carts; some people hastened downhill to the riverside, and -besought the aid of the watermen in conveying their goods out of harm’s -way. - -This suggested an idea to Martin. Mr. Faryner’s boat lay at the stairs -some distance below the bridge. Why should he not use it to help the -frantic people? He ought to ask Mr. Faryner’s leave, but it would take -him hours to get through the crowd to the mercer’s house in Cheapside; -indeed, it would be difficult enough, even by a roundabout route, to -reach the stairs. - -The arrival of the Lord Mayor on horseback, attended by his javelin men, -had fortunately thinned the crowd at the corner of Eastcheap, and -Martin, by dodging and winding, succeeded in making his way into one of -the lanes running down to the river. - -He would hardly have been surprised to find that the boat had already -been taken away; but it was in its usual place, padlocked to the post. -Springing in, he rowed out upon the river, which was already crowded -with craft of all kinds: the wherries of the watermen, who would reap a -rich harvest to-day: the barges of fine gentlemen come to view the -spectacle. - -Martin pulled over to the Surrey side, to avoid the sparks and burning -masses that were falling from the houses at the northern end of the -bridge, shot through one of the arches, and rowed across to the other -shore. The fire was speeding westward like a devouring monster. He -observed the flames leaping from house to house; the smoke, driven -before the wind, already reaching past Blackfriars; the blazing -particles that were whirled up and round, and fell hissing into the -river. - -The waterside was thronged with people clamouring for watermen, even -throwing their goods into the water. When Martin pulled in to the -nearest stairs he had to keep an oar’s length distant to prevent his -boat from being overcrowded and swamped, and it was only after some -argument and even altercation that he was able to take on board an old -man and woman with all their little wealth tied up in huge bundles. - -Having rowed them to Westminster, where they had a married daughter, and -refused pay, he returned, and again selected the older people from those -who besought his services. Time after time he went up and down the -river, finding it more and more difficult to steer a course among the -hundreds of craft, large and small, that almost blocked the waterway. -And on shore the roar and crackle of the flames mingled with the cries -and lamentations of homeless people. - -At last, tired and hot and hungry, Martin pulled his empty boat down -stream, fastened it to its post at the stairs which, being behind the -fire, were deserted, and dragged himself wearily homeward. It was long -past his dinner-time, but Susan Gollop had kept food waiting for him and -for her husband, who had not yet returned. - -“What’s come of the man?” she said, when Martin entered the room. -“Stopping to see the fire they’re talking about, I suppose. And you’re -as black as a sweep. What have you been doing?” - -“Helping to save people’s goods,” Martin replied. “It’s a frightful -fire, Susan; hundreds of houses burnt already, and there’s no stopping -it while the wind’s so strong. Mr. Faryner’s house is burnt down.” - -“Gracious me! What’ll you do for your living now? Where did this dratted -fire start?” - -“At our shop.” - -“Well, to be sure! Some careless wretch didn’t rake out the embers, I -warrant.” - -“Shall we be burnt, Martin?” asked Lucy, timorously. - -“Of course not, child,” Susan interposed. “It’s far enough off, and the -wind blows it away from us, thank goodness. I don’t know what the -world’s coming to, what with fires, and men who won’t come in to their -vittles, and dark doings under the stairs.” - -“What do you mean?” Martin asked. - -“Why, look at this: what do you make of that?” - -She held up a large brass button, to which were attached a few threads. - -“Well?” said Martin, wondering. - -“It’s not well: it’s a mystery. That’s a button from a man’s coat, and I -found it in the cupboard under the stairs. I went in with a candle to -take down the bed that Indian boy slept in, and tidy up, and there was -the button a-shining on the floor.” - -“What of that?” - -“Why, that boy had no buttons: his clothes was all rags and strings.” - -“It may have been there before.” - -“That I’m sure it wasn’t, for I swept out the place myself for the boy. -I ask you, how did that button come in my cupboard?” - -“I can’t tell, and it doesn’t matter much. By the look of it it’s been -torn off. I’ll just eat my dinner and then go off and see if I can find -Gollop.” - -But Martin did not find Gollop, nor indeed did he look very earnestly -for him, so much interested was he in watching the fire. Soldiers, horse -and foot, had been sent from Westminster to keep order in the streets. -At the King’s command houses were being pulled down to stay the course -of the flames. The streets were clogged with carts and barrows laden -with the goods of fugitives. And the crowds were now declaring that the -fire was the work of foreigners, and clamouring for vengeance. - -It was late in the evening when Martin, tired out, once more reached -home. Meeting the old Frenchman on the doorstep, he mentioned the -excitement about foreigners, and suggested that his friend should avoid -the crowds. Mounseer smiled and thanked him, but showed no signs of -concern. - -They stood on the doorstep watching the glow in the sky. It was a dark -night, but every now and then a burst of flame in the distance lit up -the street. Presently Mr. Seymour came along from the direction of the -river. As he reached the foot of the steps a sudden brief illumination -fell upon him. And in that moment Martin noticed that the top button of -Mr. Seymour’s coat was missing. - -Mr. Seymour halted, and, dangling his tasselled cane, said with a -pleasant smile: “A magnificent spectacle, is it not? And we need not pay -for seats.” - -“As you say, sir,” replied the Frenchman coldly, turning to enter the -house. - -Martin was trying to see clearly the kind of buttons on Mr. Seymour’s -coat, but that gentleman had faced about, so that his back was towards -the fire, and the glow in the sky had dulled a little. In order to -detain him, Martin asked: - -“Are we quite safe here, sir?” - -The Frenchman heard the question, and turned at the door, as if waiting -with some anxiety for the answer. - -“There’s not a doubt of it,” said Mr. Seymour. “We are a good distance -behind the fire, and the east wind is driving it from us along the -waterside.” - -Martin had paid little attention to Mr. Seymour’s answer, so eager was -he to satisfy himself as to the nature of the buttons. Mounseer, -apparently reassured, had disappeared. Wheeling round to follow him into -the house, Mr. Seymour came for a moment within the illumination from -the red sky, and Martin almost jumped as he noticed that the buttons -appeared to be made of the same metal as the one that Susan Gollop had -found. They seemed also to be the same size, but of that he was not -quite so sure. - -He went into the house behind Mr. Seymour, watched him ascend to the -upper floor, then ran down the basement stairs. Mrs. Gollop had prepared -supper, and there was a look of disappointment on her face when she saw -Martin enter alone. - -“Have you seen Gollop?” she asked anxiously. - -“I’m sorry, I haven’t,” Martin replied. - -“What has become of the man? I’m beginning to worrit. He’s such a -regular man for his meals. He’s never missed his Sunday dinner since he -came home from sea.” - -“Isn’t that his step?” said Martin, running to the door. - -Heavy, dragging footsteps were heard on the stairs. Lucy jumped up and -joined her brother: Mrs. Gollop stood in her place, and with a quick -lift of her apron wiped the corners of her eyes. - - - - - CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SECOND - - - THE EMPTY ROOM - -The constable tumbled rather than walked into the room. His hands and -clothes were begrimed and black; his hat was crushed and shapeless; his -fat, rosy cheeks were streaked with irregular patterns where his fingers -had rubbed. - -Susan Gollop stood with arms akimbo, grimly eyeing the returned -wanderer. - -“Well, if you’re not a pretty object!” she said severely; but her lips -were trembling a little. “There! Fetch a basin of water, Lucy, and the -pummy stone, and there’s a dirty towel on the rack.” - -Dick Gollop plumped heavily into a chair. - -“I’m dead beat, missus,” he murmured. “Give us a drink.” - -Martin handed him a mug, and he took a deep draught. - -“What a Sunday!” he exclaimed. “Fire and brimstone! The everlasting -fire! And the Lord Mayor’s just as silly as any common man. My throat’s -as dry as a bone. Another drink, lad.” - -“Don’t you talk lightly of the Lord Mayor, my man,” said his wife -reproachfully. - -“Pish! He’s scared out of his wits, no good at all. The King’s the man -for my money. ’Twas he sent orders to pull down houses so’s the fire -wouldn’t have nothing to feed on; but bless me! the Lord Mayor goes up -and down wringing his hands and crying, ‘What can I do?’ But I’m dead -beat, I say: all day and all night at it; I’ll drop asleep where I sit.” - -“Pardon,” said the Frenchman’s voice in the doorway. “You are of return. -Tell me, I pray, the house: is it safe?” - -“Don’t worrit about the house, Mounseer,” said Gollop. “There’s more -call to worrit about yourself. Keep below deck, that’s my advice to you. -The people are raging about all foreigners, specially French and Dutch, -and if they catch you in the street, ten to one they’ll do you a -mischief. I saw a Frenchman nearly torn limb from limb by a parcel of -women because he was carrying fire-balls, they said. Turned out to be -tennis-balls; that’s their ignorance. Don’t go out, Mounseer: what you -can’t help, make the best of.” - -The Frenchman smiled and thanked him, and returned to his own apartment. - -“You’re sure we’re safe, Gollop?” said Susan. “We can go to sleep in our -beds?” - -“Sure I’m going to sleep in mine,” answered Gollop. “One more drink, -then——” - -“If you’re so sure, why’s that Mr. Seymour so frightened, then? He’s -been going in and out all day; men have been traipsing up and down, -carrying out boxes and parcels and things. _He’s_ not so sure, -seemingly.” - -The mention of Mr. Seymour reminded Martin of the button. - -“I say, Susan,” he said, “where’s that button you found in the -cupboard?” - -“Bless the boy! What’s buttons to do with it? It’s on the mantelshelf, -if you must know.” - -Martin reached it down, examined it, and in a moment exclaimed: - -“This is Mr. Seymour’s. His top button is missing. I saw him as he came -in.” - -“Well!” said Susan. - -“Gundra must have torn it off. It was Mr. Seymour spirited him away.” - -“Did you ever! You hear that, Gollop?” - -“Eh? What?” said Gollop, who was beginning to doze in his chair. - -“That Indian boy was carried off in the night, and ’twas Mr. Seymour -done it. Poor little wretch! That’s kidnapping. You can’t go to sleep -yet: what’s your precious law say to that?” - -“The law says,” muttered Gollop drowsily, “what you can’t help, -make——” - -“Listen to me,” said his wife, shaking him. “You’ll just go upstairs at -once with this button and show it to that Seymour, and ask him what he -means by——” - -“Avast there, woman!” cried the constable, heaving himself out of his -chair. “I’ll sheer off to my bed and nowhere else, not for all the laws -in the kingdom. Talk of buttons and nigger boys when all the world is -afire! I’m dead-beat, I say, and I’ll turn in this minute.” - -He lurched away into the bedroom and shut the door with a bang. - -Susan looked at the door as if in a mind to follow her husband and drag -him back. Then her face softened. - -“Poor dear!” she said. “He’s that tired I never did see, and when a -man’s tired let him be, that’s what I say. But that there Seymour!” Her -lips shut tight. “Gollop can’t go, so I’ll go myself.” - -“He won’t tell you anything,” said Martin. - -“Maybe he will, maybe he won’t. But I’ll not rest till I know what he’s -done with that poor shrimp of a blackamoor. And if he won’t tell, -leastways I’ll show him the button, and ask whether he owns it, and I -warrant I’ll tell by the look on his face whether he’s a villain or -not.” - -“I’ll go with you—light you upstairs,” said Martin, taking a candle -from the table. - -“Go to bed, Lucy,” said Susan. “You are over-late already.” - -“I want to know about the Indian boy,” said Lucy. - -“Now, don’t make me cross. Go to bed at once; you shall hear all about -it in the morning.” - -Smoothing her apron and setting her cap straight, Mrs. Gollop marched -out of the room, Martin following with the candle. - -“_I’ll_ talk to him!” said the angry woman, as she began to climb the -stairs. “_I’ll_ teach him to come stealing down in the dead of night and -poking his nose into the rooms of honest people! _I’ll_ give him a piece -of my mind, and his ears will be all of a tingle before he’s done with -Susan Gollop!” - -Martin noticed with amusement that the higher she got the lower fell the -tone of her voice, until by the time she reached Mr. Seymour’s door and -knocked, and asked, “Can I speak to you, sir?” her voice was as mild as -the cooing of a dove. - -There was no answer. She knocked again. - -“Mr. Seymour, sir!” - -There was still no answer. She waited a moment or two, then summoned up -her resolution and turned the handle. To her surprise the door opened. -The room was dark. - -“Show me a light,” she whispered. - -Martin, with the candle, stepped in front of her. A glance showed that -the room was empty, except of the furniture and a quantity of litter on -the floor. - -“Well, I declare!” Susan cried, in loud indignation. “He’s gone, and -took all his belongings. There’s a coward for you!” - -Among the litter there were a few pieces of paper, suggesting that Mr. -Seymour had torn up old letters before he left. Martin, all his -suspicions revived, had the curiosity to collect these scraps. - -“We can do nothing more,” he said. “I’d like to look at these bits of -paper carefully downstairs.” - -“They’re just love-letters or other rubbidge,” scoffed Mrs. Gollop, “and -I’ve come up all these stairs for nothing at all!” - -But half an hour later Martin, poring over the papers spread before him -on the table by the light of two candles, was inclined to think that the -journey had not been in vain. He had put together a number of scraps -that appeared to be all in the same handwriting, and by shifting their -positions until the torn edges fitted together he had composed a -sentence or two that clearly formed part of a letter. What he read was -as follows: - -_. . . . Maria sails on Tuesday. All cargo must be stowed by Monday. -Tell W. S. that I do not communicate with him direct, for reasons which -. . ._ - -There was no more. Martin was at no loss to understand that the vessel -sailing on Tuesday was the _Santa Maria_; nor was it long before he came -to another conclusion. W. S. were the initials of his old employer, -William Slocum. - - - - - CHAPTER THE TWENTY-THIRD - - - ’PRENTICES TO THE RESCUE - -Dick Gollop and Martin both rose very late next morning. They left the -house together, but soon parted, the former to return to his duty, the -latter to resume his self-imposed office of helping people in need. - -The Fire was still raging unchecked, and was spreading from the -riverside streets towards the heart of the city. Many people who had -indulged a careless belief in the safety of their dwellings had now -flown to the opposite extreme of panic and despair, and the supply of -carts, barrows, and wherries was hopelessly unequal to the demands of -those anxious to save their goods. The streets in every direction were -blocked by frantic fugitives, and the fields north of the city were -already dotted with the encampments of homeless people. - -When Martin reached the stairs where he had left his boat he found that -it had disappeared. It was hopeless to look for it among the hundreds -that were plying on the river, and Martin, feeling himself deprived of -his occupation, made his way westwards, first with the idea of inquiring -after Mr. Faryner, and then of getting a view of the progress of the -Fire. - -As he was jostling his way among the crowds who were moving up -Cheapside, he was thrown against the old Frenchman, struggling along in -the opposite direction. It flashed into his mind that Mounseer might -have been paying another visit to Mr. Slocum, and his former feeling of -puzzlement returned with redoubled force. - -“Ah, my friend, what do you here?” asked the old man. - -“My boat has been taken,” replied Martin, looking around rather -anxiously; for the Frenchman’s words must have been heard by the persons -near him, and his accent, coupled with the cut of his clothes and his -general appearance, would certainly betray him as a foreigner. - -“So you have nothing to do,” the Frenchman continued. “Same as me; your -little sister go not to the school to-day, therefore am I unoccupied. I -enjoy the holiday,” he added, with a smile. “We shall enjoy it together, -eh?” - -“Hadn’t you better go home, sir?” said Martin, remembering what Gollop -had said overnight about the mob’s treatment of foreigners. - -“Not at all, not at all. This great sight interest me very much. You -shall take me to a place where the spectacle is most beautiful.” - -Martin noticed one or two people scowling, and wished that Mounseer -would hold his tongue. Determined to draw him away from the main stream -of traffic he turned into an alley-way, intending to go by back streets -as far as St. Paul’s, where, perhaps, the sacristan might allow them to -ascend the tower. - -Their course led them past the back entrance to Mr. Greatorex’s -premises. Just before they reached it a man came out and walked towards -Cheapside. Martin and the Frenchman recognised him at the same moment; -he was the man whose scarred face they had seen at the window—the man -who had knocked Martin down in Whitefriars. - -“What next?” thought Martin. This was a new shock of surprise. Was this -man also among Mr. Slocum’s acquaintances? The idea would never have -occurred to Martin but for his thorough distrust of Mr. Slocum, and a -strange suspicion was dawning on his mind when his attention was -diverted by a sudden movement of the Frenchman, who hurried after the -man, seized his arm, and began to speak excitedly in French. - -The man stared, swore, caught sight of Martin, then suddenly shouted: - -“Frenchy! Ho, boys, here’s one of the foreign spies what sets us afire. -Down with all Frenchies!” - -They were near the end of the lane, and the man’s words were heard and -taken up by the crowd in Cheapside. A number of roughs surged towards -them, and the accuser, finding himself supported, turned on the -Frenchman, dealt him a violent blow, and started to tear his coat off. - -“Away, you coward!” cried Martin, rushing forward to help the old -gentleman; but a burly ruffian caught him in his arms and hurled him -back. - -At this moment there was a cry from behind. - -“Why, it’s Martin Leake! Clubs! Clubs! ’Prentices to the rescue!” - -A tall figure dashed past Martin, who was staggering under the big man’s -assault, and with doubled fists attacked the aggressor with a whirling -ferocity that drove him back reeling. In the lad who had come to his -help Martin recognised his fellow-'prentice and opponent, George Hopton. - -Next moment from several doors in the neighbourhood darted one or more -flat-capped ’prentices brandishing the clubs from which they took their -rallying cry. - -For centuries the London ’prentices had been renowned for their prowess -in faction fights among themselves and against the rougher elements of -the population. The street now rang with the cry “Clubs! Clubs!” and -those formidable weapons were soon thudding on the heads and shoulders -of the rabble. - -The Frenchman had fallen to the ground, but rose when his assailant -turned to defend himself against the ’prentices, and leant, bruised and -shaken, against the wall. The success of the ’prentices’ attack was due -to its suddenness rather than its strength. There were only about six of -them altogether, and the man with the scar, seeing that no more were -joining them, again raised his cry of “Down with all Frenchies!” and -called on all true Englishmen to support him. - -By this time the crowd had increased, and several truculent fellows -broke from it and rushed towards the fight. They were heavier metal than -the ’prentice lads; soon they outnumbered them; the little band was -forced back step by step, some of them losing their clubs to the enemy. -The combat swept past the old Frenchman, carrying Martin with it, and in -a few moments the ’prentices would have suffered a disastrous rout had -not a loud shout in a tone of authority imposed a sudden peace. - -All eyes were turned upon the speaker, an elderly gentleman wearing a -well-curled periwig, and a coat of purple cloth, and carrying a -gold-headed cane which he brandished at the crowd. Martin recognised him -as the important customer of Mr. Slocum’s who had been hustled in the -course of his fight with George Hopton. - -“Back, rascals!” cried the gentleman. “Are you fools enough to believe -these absurd tales of foreign incendiaries? I tell you there’s no ground -for them. Foreigners in our midst should be treated as guests. Your -conduct is a disgrace to Englishmen and citizens of London. Away with -you, and find something useful to do.” - -“Hurrah for Mr. Pemberton!” cried the ’prentices. - -The combatants shamefacedly drew back and mingled with the more -peaceable spectators. Martin hurried to the old Frenchman’s side. - -“What! You again!” said Mr. Pemberton, recognising him. “Are you always -fighting?” - -“I owe my life to him and the others,” began Mounseer. - -[Illustration] - -“You had better go home, sir,” was the reply, “and remain within doors -while men’s minds are affected by this great calamity. As for you lads, -I hope, though I don’t expect, that you will always use your clubs in as -good a cause.” - -He moved away, followed by another cheer from the ’prentices, and Martin -started to accompany the Frenchman home, supporting him on his arm. -George Hopton and one or two other ’prentices set off to see them a -little distance on their way. - -In a few moments they became aware that the man with the scar was -skulking after them. - -“Whoop!” cried Hopton. “Clubs! Clubs!” - -With his fellow ’prentices he turned and chased the man, who did not -wait their onslaught, but dived into a narrow entry and disappeared. And -all the way home Martin was wondering what the baffled ruffian had to do -with Mr. Slocum. - - - - - CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FOURTH - - - MR. SLOCUM MOVES AT LAST - -Anxious to avoid any repetition of the attack on Mounseer, Martin -conducted the old gentleman across Cheapside into Wood Street, intending -to go home by way of Aldermanbury and Cripplegate, though it involved a -long round. George Hopton accompanied them for some little distance, -then he stopped. - -“I say, I must go back,” he said, “or Slocum will be in a rage. I don’t -know what’s come to him. He seems to have lost his wits. Most of the -other goldsmiths have removed their valuables to the Tower, and Slocum -has been urged to do the same. But he refuses. ‘Time enough, time -enough,’ he says, ‘the Fire is by the river; it may not reach as far as -Cheapside.’” - -“I think he’s wrong,” said Martin. “What’s to stop it?” - -“That’s what everybody says. But his answer is that the goods are safer -in the vaults than they’d be if he moved them; there are thieves about. -That’s true enough; I’ve heard of several shops having been robbed. But -though Slocum talks like that he has been packing the stock. At least, I -suppose he has; he hasn’t asked for any help from me. He was in the -strong-room nearly all day yesterday, alone, and we heard hammering time -after time.” - -“He’s not so stupid after all,” Martin rejoined. “I suppose he talks to -keep up other people’s courage, though he’s making preparations to go. -But he’ll be lucky if he gets a cart. There are so many doing the same -thing that there aren’t enough carts to go round.” - -“Well, I must go,” said Hopton, adding in a whisper: “Keep the old man -indoors. I mayn’t be at hand next time.” - -“Thanks for your help,” said Martin, with a smile: Hopton certainly did -not suffer from an excess of modesty. - -Mounseer himself seemed to have realised at last that his friends had -given him good advice. He walked quickly, begged Martin to keep close to -him, and declared that he would not stir from the house again until the -Fire had ceased and the excitement died down. - -When they reached home they found Dick Gollop snatching a meal. He told -Martin that the services of the constables were not so necessary in the -streets now that the troops had arrived to keep order. - -“But it’s a terrible calamity,” he said, “and I’m afeard we’re not near -the end yet. The flames are spreading: they’ve got across Cannon Street, -and I was pretty near stifled as I came through Bucklersbury by the -stench from the druggists’ shops. I passed the back of your old place, -Martin. Does Mr. Seymour know Slocum?” - -“Why?” asked Martin. - -“Because I saw him coming out of the door. There was a sneaking way -about him. ‘Hallo!’ thinks I, ‘has my fine gentleman been to pawn -something?’ Then I thought maybe he knew Slocum, though you’ve never -said you saw him at the shop.” - -Martin thought it was time to acquaint the constable with what he knew -of the relations between Slocum and Seymour and the captain of the -_Santa Maria_. He spoke of Blackbeard’s visits by night, and the -brass-bound boxes, and the meeting in Mr. Pasqua’s coffee-house. - -“You ought to have told me all that before,” said Gollop reproachfully -when the story was concluded. “Me being a man of law, ’twould have been -proper I should know of them queer goings on.” - -“I did try, but you shut me up,” said Martin. - -“So I did. I was wrong. I own it; dash my sleepy head! Never you sleep -your brains away, my lad. Them brass boxes, now. There’s no telling what -mischief’s in them boxes. Still, what you can’t help, make the best of, -and I say no more for the present. When the Fire’s over maybe I’ll look -into things a bit: I’ve no time for it now—indeed, I must get back to -my duty.” - -He went out hurriedly, before Martin had related what had happened to -the old Frenchman. Susan and Lucy, when that story was told, were both -indignant at the crowd’s treatment of their friend, and nothing would -satisfy the girl but that she must take him a bowl of syllabub to -comfort him, as she said. - -Martin was too restless to remain indoors. The fascination of the Fire -drew him again into the streets, which were now still more congested, -the stream of fugitives hurrying to the fields meeting a stream of -countrymen whom the prospect of making money by hiring out their carts -had drawn to the City. The roar of the flames, the crash of falling -houses, the cries and oaths of the people struggling to save their -goods, the smells from burning oil and spices, the blazing flakes -fantastically whirling in the wind, made up a series of vivid -impressions that remained in Martin’s memory for many a day. - -Towards evening he found himself again in the neighbourhood of Mr. -Slocum’s house. He had not gone there of set purpose, but had been drawn -there unconsciously, perhaps, by a vague recollection of Dick Gollop’s -remarks. - -Going down the lane towards the back entrance, he was brought to a halt -by the sight of a large hand-truck at the door. The three ’prentices, in -their shirt sleeves, were loading it with boxes under the direction of -Mr. Slocum. - -“He’s scared at last,” thought Martin. “But what a strange time to -choose for going away.” - -He remained in a shady corner, watching. It was certainly high time that -the goldsmith’s valuables were removed, for the Fire had reached the -foot of the streets leading up to Cheapside. - -The loading was finished a few minutes after Martin’s arrival, and the -’prentices put on their coats. - -“Am I not to come, sir?” Martin heard Hopton say. - -“No; you are to stay and guard the shop. Jenks and Butler can wheel the -truck. Too many of us would attract attention, and the dusk will bring -out the thieves.” - -He threw a sheet over the truck, tying it down at the corners. So far as -appearance went, the load might have consisted only of household goods -like those which hundreds of citizens had been moving all the day. - -The two younger ’prentices seized the handles of the truck and wheeled -it up the lane. Martin, shrinking back in his corner, noticed that Mr. -Slocum, walking close behind, had a pistol projecting from his pocket. - -When they had turned into Cheapside, Martin went up to Hopton as he was -going back to the door. - -“Hallo!” said Hopton. “Is the Frenchman in trouble again?” - -“No; he won’t stir out again,” replied Martin. “So Slocum has moved at -last.” - -“The lunatic! Why didn’t he go earlier? He’ll have to make a long round -to get to the Tower, and it will be nearly dark before he arrives: just -the time for footpads to attack him. There’s nobody left in the house, -or I’d follow and see that he gets there safely.” - -“I’ll go,” said Martin, once more amused at Hopton’s idea of his own -importance. - -Hopton gave a snort. “What could you do if they were attacked?” he -asked. “You’ve no weapons.” - -“But I could shout.” - -“Go, then. It’s no concern of yours, but you might raise a hullabaloo if -anything happens. I suppose I must kick my heels here until Slocum -releases me, though I promise you I won’t stay if the flames come -anywhere near.” - -Martin set off, but during the minute or two he had been talking with -Hopton the barrow had passed out of sight among the thronging people. -Knowing that it must take a northerly direction in order to skirt the -Fire, he crossed Cheapside and dodged his way into Milk Street, the -nearest of the streets branching out of the main thoroughfare. There was -no sign of the barrow, yet it could not have got far, owing to the -crowd. - -He struck into a by-lane and came to Wood Street. The crowd here was not -so thick, and he was able to move more quickly. At the corner of Silver -Street he stopped and looked round on all sides. The evening gloom was -already descending, though the glow in the sky lit up the over-arching -houses. - -“I shall never find them now,” he thought. But just at that moment the -grinding of wheels on the cobbles drew his attention. He glanced round -and saw the barrow coming along from the direction of the Guildhall. - -“They tried that way and couldn’t get through, I suppose,” he said to -himself, and slipped into the entrance of a yard until the barrow had -passed. “Now to keep them in sight.” - - - - - CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIFTH - - - MARTIN FOLLOWS - -Martin could hardly have explained why he felt so keenly interested in -the progress of the barrow. Mr. Slocum was only doing what most of the -goldsmiths had already done, and it was certainly his duty to save the -property of his master, Mr. Greatorex. But recent incidents had inspired -Martin with so deep a distrust of Mr. Slocum that he was determined not -to lose sight of him until the barrow had safely entered the portals of -the Tower. - -He kept far enough behind not to be observed, yet close enough to run no -risk of missing the party again. - -“I’m glad I’m not shoving the barrow,” he thought. - -The air that summer evening was hot, and its oppressiveness was enhanced -by the pervasive smell of burning. Martin followed the toiling -’prentices into Aldersgate Street and turned after them into London -Wall, expecting them to swing to the right at Bishopsgate, and so finish -their long round to the Tower. - -To his surprise, they took the eastward direction, and struck into a -winding lane that would bring them, certainly, to the river, but at a -point far away from their supposed destination. Martin was conscious of -a growing curiosity, even of excitement. The lane was narrow, and as the -dusk was deepening he lessened the distance between him and the barrow. -But a little farther on, where the lane made a sharp curve, he hung back -for a moment to give the party time to get well round the corner. - -As he did so a man came suddenly round on the inside of the curve, -brushed past him, and continued his course up the lane towards the main -street. Martin glanced round; the man was fast disappearing into the -dusk, but there was something in his shape and gait that reminded Martin -vaguely of someone he had seen, he could not remember when or where. The -impression passed in a moment, and he hurried on, anxious not to lose -sight of his quarry. - -Turning the corner, he found himself between parallel lines of tall -warehouses, some flush with the lane, others standing back behind small -yards in which goods were no doubt unloaded. He had not taken many steps -when he heard shrill cries ahead, and broke into a run, wondering why -thieves had been attracted to so quiet a spot, remote from the crowds. - -Some thirty yards ahead the lane made another sharp twist. When Martin -reached the bend he was just in time to see, dimly in the fading light, -one of the ’prentices being shoved by a man through the gateway of a -warehouse yard. The barrow, Mr. Slocum, and the other ’prentice were -already out of sight. - -Martin recognised the voice of the lad who was being roughly used as -that of Butler, and he dashed on at his topmost speed, shouting as he -ran. For a moment he had no other thought than to save the lad who had -been his fellow-'prentice from the hands of his assailant. But before he -gained the scene the wooden gate was banged to; he heard the grating of -a bolt and Butler’s protesting cries as he was lugged across the yard. - -He looked up. The gate and the wall on either side of it were at least -ten feet high; their tops were studded with nails or jagged glass; even -if he found a foothold it would be impossible to scale them. He banged -at the door, still shouting; but there was no response. Work in the -warehouse was over for the day, and no doubt any workmen or loungers who -might ordinarily have been about were far away, watching the Fire. The -cries of Butler had ceased; within the yard all was silent. - -Feeling that to knock or shout any longer here would merely be wasting -time, Martin wondered whether he could find admittance at the back of -the warehouse. He ran on a few yards and came upon a narrow passage -striking off at right angles to the lane. At a venture he turned into -this, and found himself within a few moments in a lane that evidently -ran parallel with the one he had left. - -He had only just rounded the corner when he heard the rattling of cart -wheels on the cobbles at the river-end of the lane, and caught sight of -a few strange figures dimly outlined against the background of sky. - -“Stop thief!” he shouted, dashing down the lane. - -For some minutes he had been so confused that he only now guessed that -Mr. Slocum’s barrow had entered by the gateway through which Butler had -been forced; otherwise it could scarcely have disappeared so suddenly. -As he ran, calling for help, he noticed that a large gateway, with a -wicket beside it, stood wide open on his left. He rushed up to the first -man he overtook. - -“There is villainy going on,” he said. “Help me!” - -“I’m helping myself,” the man growled; and the strangeness of his figure -was accounted for by the huge bundle he carried on his back. He was one -of the fugitives who were conveying their possessions to the river in -the hope of finding a boat. - -Martin ran on, and in the fast-gathering darkness cannoned into another -man laden almost as heavily. - -“Mind your steps!” shouted the man; and with his free hand he dealt -Martin a blow that sent him staggering against the wall. Recovering -himself he dashed on, his cries to one and another going unheeded. -People were too much concerned with their own troubles to regard the -vague demands of a lad. - -And then suddenly he found himself on the edge of a little quay -stretching into the river. There was a reddish glow reflected from the -water, and by this light he recognised, at the farther end of the quay, -the handcart he had lost sight of. It was standing deserted. A boat was -putting off, piled with boxes. The glow of the fire glinted on their -brass-bound corners and on the swarthy face of Blackbeard, who held the -tiller strings while two other men rowed steadily down stream. - -Beyond the quay there were two or three other boats into which fugitive -citizens were dumping their goods. - -“Row after that boat!” Martin cried to the watermen. “It contains stolen -goods.” - -“Not the only one,” chuckled one of the men. - -“Things of great value,” Martin persisted, looking round in vain to find -a waterman whom he knew. “The owner will reward you richly.” - -“Out of my way,” cried the man with whom Martin had collided. “What’s -your fare, waterman?” - -“Five shillings a mile,” the man replied. - -“You’re a shark, making your profit out of other folk’s calamities. But -I suppose I must pay you, though ’tis five times the proper price. Take -this bundle.” - -Seeing that the watermen were too intent on present gain to trouble -about a visionary reward, Martin turned away. And then he asked himself, -what had become of Slocum and the other ’prentice? They were certainly -not with Blackbeard in the boat. Was it possible that they too had been -carried prisoners into the warehouse? - -He retraced his steps and came to the large gateway which he had guessed -to be the main entrance to the warehouse. It was now closed, as was also -the wicket at the side. He was trying the latch when a man came up -behind. - -“Want to get in, eh? Well, so you shall.” - -Martin turned hastily, and recognised with alarm the sinister face of -the man with the scar. - -Before he could recover his wits he was seized in an iron grip. His -captor inserted a key in the lock of the wicket gate, turned it, and -snarling: “Oh, you shall get in, you shall,” pushed Martin before him -into the yard. - - - - - CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SIXTH - - - PRISONERS - -Just inside the gate, on the right, was a small brick cabin, where -during working hours the gatekeeper attended for the purpose of checking -merchandise that entered or left the yard. It was now closed; its window -was shuttered; but a streak of light shone between the door and the -lintel. - -Grasping Martin firmly with one hand, with the other the man unlocked -the door, and pushed his prisoner in. An oil lamp stood on a table, and -on a chair near it sat Mr. Slocum. He started up on seeing Martin. - -“Heavens above! Have they caught you too?” he exclaimed, with an air of -genuine surprise. - -Martin glanced from him to his captor, and caught a fleeting grin on -that man’s face. - -“But how came you in this unhappy plight?” Slocum went on, speaking very -rapidly. “Why should the wretches attack you? In my own case the -explanation is simple. I set out to save Mr. Greatorex’s property from -this disastrous Fire, with Jenks and Butler; you remember them? We were -suddenly rushed upon by half a dozen footpads, hustled into the yard, -and while I was shut up here the ’prentice lads were taken—who knows -where?” - -“Not far,” said the man, grinning again. “Not so very far. You can see -’em out in the yard there.” - -He pointed through the open doorway. Shading his eyes against the light, -Martin saw dimly two figures with their backs to the wall, and a big -fellow apparently standing guard over them. - -“You can cheer each other up,” said the man, going out and locking the -door behind him. - -“A monstrous outrage!” said Slocum. “But what have the villains against -you?” - -“I’d like to know that myself,” said Martin, cautiously. - -“You were passing up from the waterside, no doubt?” said Slocum. - -“No; I was going the other way.” - -“Strange coincidence! You saw the ruffians attack me?” - -“No, I did not.” - -Martin’s answers were short. He guessed that the object of Slocum’s -questions were to ascertain how much he knew, and though he had been -almost taken in by Slocum’s manner, he now suspected that his surprise -had been feigned, and that he was playing a part. - -“Well, it is a gross attack on our personal liberty,” Slocum continued; -“and I won’t stand it!” - -He rose with an air of grim determination, and hammered sharply on the -door. The man with the scar entered. - -“Enough of this foolery!” said Slocum, elbowing the man from the -doorway. “Let me out, fellow. I warn you that you are incurring -punishment of the highest severity in holding two citizens in durance!” - -“Take it easy; none of your shoving,” said the man. “You can’t go out -without I get orders.” - -“Orders! From whom do you get your orders?” - -“That’s my look-out.” - -“You are insolent, fellow! Don’t dare to use that tone to me! I will not -put up with insolence from a ruffian and a gaol-bird!” - -“Who are you a-calling a gaol-bird?” said the man, scowling fiercely. - -Martin had already suspected that the men were play-acting. It now -seemed that the captor had forgotten his part, and was taking Slocum’s -expressions seriously. Slocum realised that he had gone too far with a -person of limited intelligence, and hastened to reassure him by -pantomimic signs which, slight as they were, did not pass unobserved by -Martin. - -“I demand to be taken outside,” Slocum went on. “I want air. What with -the hot evening and the stinking lamp this place is suffocating.” - -“Well, I’ve no orders to stifle you,” said the man. Thereupon, he took -Slocum by the sleeve and marched him out into the yard. Martin was -following, but the man turned at the door, thrust him back, and locked -him in. “Your turn presently,” he said. - -Martin sat down on the chair. He was convinced that Slocum and the man -were acting in collusion, and supposed that their object was to retain -him for an hour or two until the boat conveying Mr. Greatorex’s -valuables had got away. Remembering that the _Santa Maria_ was to sail -next day, he felt sure that those valuables would form part of her -freight, the fruits of a conspiracy in which Slocum, Blackbeard, and -Seymour were concerned. - -Waiting in the hot, stuffy room soon became tedious and uncomfortable. -Martin got up and tried the door and the window; both were securely -fastened against him. Presently he heard voices outside, the creaking of -the gate, and the rattle of wheels on the cobbles of the yard. A minute -or two later the key was turned in the lock, the door was thrown open, -and three men, one of them the man with the scar, who was now carrying a -lantern, stamped into the room. They stood for a moment looking at -Martin. - -“Why not leave him here?” said one of them. “’Twill save trouble.” - -“Won’t do,” said the man with the scar. “There’ll be folk about in the -morning; he’ll be found, and then—you see he knows too much.” - -“Well, then, why not shut his mouth? The river’s handy. With a stone -round his neck——” - -“Stow your gab, Bill,” interrupted the other irritably. “We can’t drown -’em all. Besides, orders is orders, so you’d better set about it.” - -Martin had risen at their entrance, and stood facing them, his heart -beating rather quickly and his cheeks flushing as he listened to this -frank discussion of his fate. He was not prepared for what happened. The -man who had wished to save trouble made a sudden pounce, flung his arm -round Martin’s neck, and deftly slipped a gag into his mouth. He was -then tripped up, and as he lay on the floor his hands were roped -together, and he was shoved into a sack that covered him completely. - -Thus bundled up, he was carried into the yard and dumped into the -handcart, which had been brought empty from the quay. The cart jolted -over the cobbles; he heard the gate slammed behind him, and wondered to -what destination the men had orders to convey him. - -The jolting did not last long. In a minute or two the legs of the -handcart were let down with a bump, and Martin was hoisted out. His head -being covered, he could not see where he had been brought, but he felt -himself being carried downstairs, then flung down upon boards that -rocked under his weight. He was in a boat. - -He judged by their voices that two of the three men got into the boat -after him. It moved away, and through the sack he heard the men talking -of matters he knew nothing about. After a journey that seemed much -longer than it was the boat stopped; he felt its side grate against -stone. He was lifted out and carried up a few steps, then for some yards -on the level. - -Once more he was set down. There was a knock upon a door; after an -interval of waiting the bolts were drawn; some words were exchanged -between his bearers and the man who had opened; then he was carried -along, up a flight of stairs, and finally dropped roughly to the floor. - -“Cut the sack open,” said one of the men. “Better give him some air and -take the gag out,” he added. “He won’t do no harm now.” - -The string was cut, and the sack pulled down to his shoulders. - -“Best tie him up,” said one. - -“He can’t get away.” - -“Never mind that; let’s make it sure.” - -A rope was tied round the middle of the sack, and knotted to a staple in -the wall. - -“Now all’s snug,” said a man. “We’ve lost enough time over him; let’s -get back to the City; we ought to be able to prig a thing or two out of -those fine shops in Cheapside.” - - - - - CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SEVENTH - - - MARTIN FINDS A WAY - -By the light of the lantern carried by the man with the scar Martin had -made a hasty survey of his prison. It was a large, empty room, -apparently part of a disused warehouse. When the men went away they took -the lantern with them, leaving the place in complete darkness. - -Martin was at once aware of sounds of movement on the floor -above—sounds of heavy cases or bales being dragged over the boards. At -intervals also he heard a creaking that suggested the lowering of goods -over a rusty pulley. - -“Where am I?” he thought. - -The sounds lulled, and his ears caught a slight rustle in the room -itself. - -“Rats!” he said to himself. “I hope they won’t attack me.” - -During the next pause in the louder sounds he heard another rustle -somewhat more prolonged, a faint clanking, and he had the strange -feeling that some human being besides himself was in the room. Startled, -he called out quickly: “Who’s there?” - -From some distant corner came a thin, piping voice: - -“Me, Gundra.” - -“Gundra!” He felt surprise and relief; the Indian boy was at least a -friend. “Come and untie me.” - -“Me no can,” was the reply. - -“Why not?” - -“Me tied, too.” - -“How?” - -“To thing in the wall. No can move it.” - -“Your hands tied?” - -“No; a band round me, tight.” - -Martin guessed that the boy, like himself, was fastened to a staple, -which was out of his reach. It was clear that neither could get to the -other. - -But Martin was not ready to admit that the situation was hopeless. His -hands, it is true, were tied, so that he could not loose the knot at the -staple, and he knew that if he strained on the rope he would only -tighten the knot. It might be possible to jerk the staple from the wall. -He made several attempts, but finding that there was no sound of tearing -wood, no yielding of the metal, he bent his mind to considering another -way. - -There was only a few feet of rope between him and the staple. By a -series of convulsive jerks he managed to wriggle over the floor until he -lay at the foot of the wall. Supporting himself against it, he got on to -his knees, and was then able to touch the rope with his mouth. He asked -himself whether it would be easier to cut through it with his teeth, or -to rise to his feet, trace the rope to the staple, and work away until -he had loosed the knot. - -Before he could make up his mind he heard heavy footsteps outside, -growing louder as they approached. Instantly he dropped to the floor, -wriggled back to his former position, and, when the door opened, lay on -his elbow as though he were incapable of rising higher. - -Through a door at the farther end of the room came Sebastian, the fat -cook of the _Santa Maria_. From one hand swung a horn lantern; in the -other he carried a large platter holding a pitcher of water and a hunk -of bread. He crossed to the corner where Gundra lay, gave him a kick, -set the platter beside him, then moved along to Martin, and leered down -upon him, pouring out a stream of abuse in his own language. Having -examined the staple and rope, he laughed maliciously, banged Martin’s -head with the lantern, and left the room, locking the door behind him. - -Martin had taken advantage of the lantern light to make a careful mental -note of the position of the staple. As soon as the sound of Sebastian’s -footsteps had died away he wriggled again to the wall, rose upon his -knees, then upon his feet, and began to tug with his teeth at the knot -about the staple. - -For some time he toiled in vain, trying one part of the knot after -another. Despairingly he felt that his teeth would yield before the -hempen rope. But presently he was aware of a slight loosening, and -taking heart, he continued to bite at the same coil. To his joy the knot -grew looser and looser; the second coil was easier to undo than the -first; now he felt the free end of the rope slipping out, and in a few -more minutes it was clear of the staple and dropped on the floor. - -His lips were sore, his jaw ached intolerably; and the uneasy posture he -had had to maintain had strained his muscles to the point of extreme -fatigue. For a while he lay quietly resting, not even telling Gundra -that he was free. The noises still continued on the upper floor. - -At length he started to jerk and worm his way across the floor. - -“I’m coming to untie you,” he said in a low tone. - -Moving only inch by inch, with frequent pauses for rest, he was a long -time in reaching the Indian boy’s corner. When at last he rolled beside -him he said: - -“Now, your hands are free; untie the rope round the sack.” - -Gundra groped with his fingers, and found the knot, but it had been so -well tied that it was some minutes before he succeeded in loosening it. -Then he pulled the sack away, and made a shorter job of untying Martin’s -hands. - -“Now to release you,” said Martin; “but I must wait until my hands are -less cramped. What is this place, Gundra?” - -“A big godown by the river,” replied the boy. “Plenty goods upstairs, -belong for _Santa Maria_.” - -Martin suddenly remembered that on the evening when he had rowed -Blackbeard down the river his passenger had directed him at first to row -towards a large warehouse on the bank, but had changed his mind. No -doubt this was the very warehouse which had been chosen for the -safe-keeping of the boys. It was plain, too, that it had been used as a -place of storage for ill-gotten goods until the time came when they -might safely be transferred to the _Santa Maria_. - -“If only I can get out,” Martin thought, “I’ll be in time to put a spoke -in Blackbeard’s wheel.” - -He felt over Gundra’s body to ascertain how he was fastened. About his -middle was a steel girdle, connected by a fine chain with the staple in -the wall. Martin discovered in a few moments that it was impossible to -detach the chain at either end; the links, though small, were of tough -metal, and gave no sign of yielding under the strongest strain he could -put upon them. - -“This is thirsty work,” said Martin. “I’ll take a drink from your -pitcher, Gundra. They haven’t brought me any water or food; I suppose -they think they’ll tame me. They don’t starve you?” - -“No; give food; not much.” - -“And how long have you been here?” - -Gundra explained that in the dead of Saturday night someone had come -into the cupboard under the stairs, gagged him, and carried him out of -the house. He had struggled hard. - -“That accounts for Mr. Seymour’s button,” thought Martin. “But how am I -to get Gundra free?” - -He sat for a while considering, with his knees up and his chin on his -hands. “I’ll try it,” he exclaimed at length. - -The staple was driven deep into the wall, but Martin’s idea was that its -setting might be loosened by picking at the wood around it, and that -then a tug would wrench it away. Opening his clasp knife he began to -scrape and chip at the wood, which being oak offered a considerable -resistance to his rather blunt blade. More than once he pulled at the -staple without detecting any sign of its yielding. - -“What about a violent jerk?” he thought. - -He explained to Gundra what he proposed to do. They both stood close to -the wall. Martin got his hands firmly between Gundra’s body and the -steel girdle; then at the same moment both he and the Indian made a -sudden leap into the room. The staple was torn from its setting; the -boys fell in a heap on the floor, and the metal rattled and clanged. -Clasping each other, they listened breathlessly. Had the sounds been -heard by the men above? - -There were no cries, no sudden movement, no footsteps. Every now and -then came the creaking of the pulley-block which had been going on at -intervals ever since Martin had been brought into the room, and the -exchange of a few words between the men who were presumably attending to -the lowering of the goods. They were too much occupied with their task -to notice the sounds in the room. - -“Now to get out!” said Martin in a whisper. “I think I can find my way -to the door.” - -“Me come; no let go,” said Gundra, clinging to him. - -They moved together in the direction of the door. The chain on the -Indian boy’s girdle clanked. - -“This won’t do,” said Martin. “Tuck it up inside the belt.” - -When this was done they started again. Martin had taken his bearings by -the light of the fat cook’s lantern, but in the pitch darkness he was at -fault, and it was only by feeling round the wall that they at last -reached the door. It was locked. There was no escape that way. - -“Any windows?” asked Martin. - -“No, sahib. But another door; oh, yes, over there.” - -“You have seen it open?” - -“No, but see light in crack.” - -“Then we’ll make for that. Keep close to me.” - - - - - CHAPTER THE TWENTY-EIGHTH - - - THE BOYS ESCAPE - -The two boys groped across the room to find the second door. Suddenly -Martin tripped and almost fell; he had stepped into a hole where the -floor-boards were rotted away. - -“Take care, Gundra,” he said, recovering himself. - -He felt on the floor to ascertain the size of the gap, then led the -Indian boy cautiously across it, and almost immediately touched a wall. -Passing his hand along it, he came upon an iron bar. - -“I think this is it,” he said. - -Feeling along the bar and the wall behind it, he discovered a vertical -crack. - -“A folding door,” he thought. “Now to lift the bar and see if we can -open the door and find out where it leads to.” - -The bar was thick and heavy, and so well settled down into its sockets -that it had evidently not been used for some time. Martin’s efforts to -lift it at first had no success, but after much pulling and pushing it -shifted upward suddenly with a loud squeaking noise. - -The boys held their breath, wondering whether the sound had been heard -in the room above. But the slow creaking still went on, and Martin -ventured to raise the bar from its place and lay it gently on the floor. - -There was an iron ring in one of the panels of the double door. -Inserting his finger in this Martin pulled, and the panel, sticking at -first, presently came inward with a squeak; clearly its hinges needed -oiling. Inch by inch he drew it towards him. A strong breeze blew into -the room, carrying with it a salt tang. The clear sky eastward was -studded with stars, which kindled reflections in the river. Nearer at -hand a reddish glow suffused the sky. - -While they were gazing out there was a creak above them, much louder -than they had heard before, and a large object dangling at the end of a -rope passed slowly downward within a yard of their faces. It was plain -that goods were being let down from the store-room above with some care -to avoid noise, for there was no shouting, no giving and receiving -directions, no cries of “Are you ready?” “Lower away!” such as were -usual in operations of the kind. - -Holding on by the door, Martin bent down and peered over the edge, -careful to keep out of sight. The package that had been lowered rested -on a sort of quay between the wall of the warehouse and the shored-up -bank of the river. A man was disengaging it from the rope. When it was -free he shook the rope as a signal that it might be drawn up, then -hoisted the package on to a truck and wheeled it along the quay until he -came to a short jetty. There he halted and lowered it over the side; -evidently a boat was moored below. Apparently the tide was too low to -allow of the boat’s drawing in nearer to the bank. - -Meanwhile a second load came slowly down over the pulley, and reached -the ground with a slight jolt. The man had not yet returned from the -jetty with the truck. Martin wondered whether it would be possible to -slide down the rope without attracting attention. The stars gave very -little light, and the glow from the Fire was intercepted by the angle of -the warehouse. The distance from the door to the ground was less than -twenty feet. - -Leaning out he cautiously tried the rope. It gave under a slight pull, -showing that the man above was no longer holding it firmly. But he must -have noticed the movement, for Martin heard a hoarse voice whisper, -“Don’t pull the rope through the block, you fool!” - -He shrank back into the room. - -“Are you there?” whispered the voice again. - -At this moment the man below reached the package on the ground. - -“What’s the matter?” he growled. - -“I said, don’t pull on the rope!” repeated the man above. - -“Didn’t touch it!” responded the other gruffly. - -There was an inaudible reply from the upper storey. The second load was -discharged and trundled away, the rope again wound up, and by the time -the man returned from the jetty a third package had been lowered. - -By this time Martin had arrived at a conclusion. If he and Gundra were -to escape by the rope, they must cling to it while it was descending -weighted with a load, and while the man below was still absent at the -jetty. There was the risk of their being discovered through the man at -the pulley feeling the extra drag on the rope, or through the return of -the other man while they were still suspended in the air. Even should -they reach the ground safely, there was the further risk of their being -intercepted, for they would have to pass the jetty on their left, and go -through the lower floor of the warehouse, the quay on the right -apparently ending at a high blank wall. - -But it was clear that they must either face these risks, with a chance, -however slight, of escaping, or remain as prisoners in the room, with -the certainty that the breaking of their bonds would be discovered as -soon as fat Sebastian paid them his next visit. - -In rapid whispers Martin explained his plan to the Indian boy. Timid as -Gundra had hitherto appeared, it was plain that ill-usage had not -utterly broken his spirit, for he agreed eagerly to make the attempt, -and promised to follow Martin’s instructions faithfully. - -“I will go first,” said Martin, with the idea of giving Gundra -confidence. “We can’t both go down with the same load. You must wait for -the next, but don’t come down till you see I am safe.” - -They waited, tingling with impatience and excitement, until once more a -heavy package came swaying past the open door. As soon as it had -descended below the sill, Martin took a firm hold of the rope and swung -off. There was a louder creaking of the pulley above, a more violent -oscillation of the load, a sudden quickening of the rate of descent; -then the slow, even movement was resumed. - -Martin glanced up. The pulley block hung from the wall above a similar -door some twelve feet above. The man who operated the machine was not -visible. - -Martin slid down until his feet touched the package. The moment this -reached the ground he slipped off and glided along the wall until he -came to a shaded corner beyond the shore end of the jetty. There he drew -back as far as possible into the shadow and waited. - -“Are you there?” he heard the man in the upper room whisper huskily, and -saw him lean over, holding on to the rope. - -There was no answer. His mate was at that moment half-way back from the -jetty, pushing the truck before him. A minute or so later, when he began -to loose the package, the man above noticed the movement of the rope, -and said: - -“You there, Bob?” - -“Ay! What’s up? In a hurry, ain’t you? You’ve got the easy job.” - -“No call to be nasty! Have a care to stand from under when the loads are -coming down. These old blocks are sticking. There was a mighty bad jolt -just now. I don’t trust ’em.” - -“All right; be there much more?” - -“Half a dozen boxes or so.” - -“I’m not sorry. The tide is making. I might as well wait a few minutes, -then I can pull the barge up a bit and save all this hiking with the -truck.” - -Martin’s heart sank. If the man did as he suggested, Gundra would have -no opportunity of escaping. But next moment he was reassured. - -“’Tain’t safe,” said the man above. “Barge might stick in the mud, and -tide take an hour or more to lift her. The sooner we get these things on -board the better.” - -While the men were talking the rope had been drawn up, and another load -was fastened to it almost as soon as the man below had started to wheel -the previous one away. - -The pulley creaked, the package descended. Martin watched anxiously, -wondering whether Gundra’s nerve would fail, whether the addition of his -weight to the rope would cause the man this time to look over. He saw -the slight form issue from the doorway and clutch the rope. Gundra was -much lighter than Martin; the extra weight made scarcely any difference -to the rate at which the rope descended. But Martin did not feel secure -until the load bumped on the ground, and the Indian boy, running as -lightly as a wild animal, reached his side. - - - - - CHAPTER THE TWENTY-NINTH - - - MARTIN USES HIS WITS - -Both the boys were panting a little, as much from excitement as from -exertion. For a few moments they remained, silent and still, in the -shadowy recess. Martin’s thoughts were busy with the new problem, how to -make good their escape. They were free, but they were not at large. - -“Shall we wait until the loading is finished?” Martin asked himself. -“There are only a few more loads to come down, then the barge will put -off. No doubt these men will leave, too, and we shall be able to get -away at leisure.” - -But as he pondered the matter he decided for immediate action. Convinced -that the goods now being removed were stolen property, he was bent on -saving it if that were possible, and the only obvious means of saving it -was to inform someone in authority who would send officers of the law to -arrest both goods and men. There was very little time. To win complete -freedom was a matter of urgency. - -“Come along,” Martin whispered when the man was once more busy at the -jetty. - -They crept along by the wall to the door of the warehouse. It was shut -and bolted. On each side of it was a window, but the shutters were up, -and heavily barred. It would be impossible even to attempt to force an -entrance without making a noise that would bring the man hot-foot upon -them. - -Martin glanced this way and that. The quay on the landward side was -entirely enclosed. It seemed that there was no exit from it except -through the warehouse, and that was shut. They were trapped after all. - -But there was the river. Could they escape by that? Was there, below the -jetty, a wherry or any kind of row-boat in addition to the barge that -was being loaded? Martin could not see one. Nor could they seize an -opportunity and dive into the river, for beneath the shore end of the -jetty there was nothing at low tide but liquid mud, probably deep enough -to engulf them. - -All at once the man’s remark about pulling the barge up recurred to -Martin. An idea struck him that made his heart bound and his nerves -tingle. He whispered a few words to Gundra, and anyone who could have -observed them would have noticed how they braced themselves up. - -The result of Martin’s inspiration showed itself when the man next left -the barge and wheeled the truck back along the jetty and across the -quay. As soon as his back was turned, they quitted their hiding-place -and, stooping low, made a dash for the jetty, the sound of their -movements being drowned by the noise of the rumbling wheels. - -At the place where the jetty sprang from the quay they stopped, lowered -themselves over the side, and slipped on to one of the cross-beams that -supported the planking. There they crouched breathlessly. It was a -perilous position, for the timber was slippery with slime, and they had -to hug it closely to prevent their sliding off. There, clinging and -crouching, they remained until the man had again come and gone. - -As soon as the man was at a safe distance, they clambered up to the -jetty, and crept along it on all fours until they came just above the -barge. This was now well afloat, but it was moored stem and stern to -posts on the jetty, as they saw by the light of a small oil-lamp -standing on a tub amidships. Boxes were piled fore and aft. - -The two boys slid down on to the barge by the rope by which the man had -lowered the goods. Martin ran to the stern and tried to cast the aft -mooring rope loose; but the knot was firm and the rope hard, and he had -not succeeded when he heard the rumbling of the truck wheels along the -quay. There was not time to complete the job before the man arrived. The -urgent necessity at the moment was to hide and hope that he would not -see them. - -Together they crouched down in the narrow space between the piled boxes -and the gunwale. With beating hearts they heard the rumbling draw -nearer; the heavy tramp of the man; his mutterings as he heaved his load -from the truck and lowered it to the deck of the barge. They held their -breath. Would the man follow it? No; he swung it almost over their -heads, and it settled with a bump a few feet short of them. - -The moment the man retreated, Martin dashed back to the aft rope, -struggled with the knot until he managed to cast it off, hastened -forward and cast off the rope there likewise. The barge swung free. -Against its gunwale lay the long heavy sweeps with which it was -propelled. Martin attempted to lift one of these, but found it -impossible to do so without Gundra’s help. - -The barge was already lurching shoreward on the tide. In a few moments, -unless its motion was checked, it would strike the mud, and then all -hope of escape was lost. Holding the sweep between them, the boys drove -it against the beams that supported the jetty, and tried to push off. - -Unused to the handling of so clumsy an implement, the boys were unable -to prevent its end from glancing off the slimy timber, and it plunged -with a splash into the water. But they had not let it go. Levering it up -across the gunwale, they once more made the attempt, and by exerting all -possible pressure were able to force the barge a yard or two from the -jetty. Then they were almost undone by their own vigour, for the sweep -slipped again as the barge sheered away, and they fell forward, striking -against the gunwale, and dropping the sweep with a loud clatter. - -They seized it just in time to save it from being carried overboard. -Meanwhile the barge had lost the impetus they had given it, and was -again drifting shoreward. It was clear that the noise they had made had -been heard by the men. There was a shout and hurried footsteps on the -quay, and Martin, looking up, could just see in the starlight the man at -the upper door leaning out and making wild movements with his arms, -evidently to urge on his mate below. - -In a moment this man came in sight, running along the quay to the spot -where he expected the barge to strike if it escaped the mud. Martin saw -that the next few minutes would decide his fate. - -“Catch hold!” he cried to the Indian boy. “Shove when I tell you.” - -He pointed the sweep at the angle between two supporting beams, and with -Gundra’s help drove it into the notch, and brought all his weight and -strength to bear upon it. The barge sidled outward, slowly, too slowly. -Martin realised that if the man had run on to the jetty, he could have -jumped on board before the heavy vessel was out of range. - -“Don’t let go,” Martin called, as the sweep dropped from its -resting-place into the water. - -Keeping a tight grasp on the pole, the boys pulled it slowly through the -water. The barge swung about a little, and Martin saw with joy that the -gap between it and the quay was wider. It was now too late for the man -to attempt the leap. He stood on the quayside, shouting, cursing, -gesticulating to his companions, two men who were running to join him. -The second of them, lumbering along in the rear, Martin recognised as -Sebastian the fat cook. - -Unwieldy though the sweep was, Martin was learning under the stress of -necessity how to manipulate it, his knowledge of oarsmanship assisting. -Laboriously he and Gundra dragged it through the water, and at every -stroke the barge forged a little farther from the quay. - -The men there were in all the agitation of helpless rage. There was a -flash, a crack; one of them had fired a pistol. - -“You fool!” shouted one of his companions. “Do you want to bring all -Deptford down upon us!” - -The answer was inaudible on the barge. There the boys, panting and -sweating from their exertions in the hot night, did not relax their -efforts until the heavy vessel was clear of the jetty and had begun to -drift upstream on the tide. Then, as they paused, they heard the same -voice apparently giving an order, though the words could not be -distinguished. Dimly they saw the three figures run along the quay, then -they were lost to sight in the darkness. A few moments later there came -the sound of rusty hinges creaking; somewhere a gate was opening. - -“What are they about now?” thought Martin; and he noticed for the first -time that Gundra’s eyes were wide with amazement and fright as they -gazed upon the ruddy glow of the Fire. - - - - - CHAPTER THE THIRTIETH - - - THE BOYS SWIM FOR IT - -Martin felt that he had been uncommonly lucky. The utmost he had hoped -for was to escape with Gundra from the warehouse; it now seemed to his -sanguine spirit that he would save the stolen property as well. The -barge was slowly drifting upstream; there was no present sign of -pursuit; and if his luck held, before long he would get assistance from -friendly hands, and the evil schemes of Blackbeard, Slocum, and the rest -would be brought to nought. - -But he had pitched his hopes too high. The heavy barge moved only at the -pace of the tide, and neither Martin nor the Indian had sufficient -muscular strength to work the cumbersome sweep for more than a few -minutes at a time. And they were soon aware that the pursuit had -started. In the light from the glowing sky they caught sight of three or -four men hurrying along the road that bordered the river. They were -outstripping the barge; it was probably their intention to get well -ahead, find a boat, and cut across the course of the fugitives. - -They might be delayed by the fact that every serviceable boat had been -engaged for the conveyance of householders’ goods, but sooner or later -they would get some kind of craft, and then the end was inevitable. - -The same dearth of boats operated against Martin. He hailed one or two -that passed, but the watermen would not so much as wait to hear his -explanations; they were reaping a golden harvest. - -What could be done? The only chance seemed to be to run the barge across -the river to the north bank, as near as possible to the stairs where -Martin’s friends were wont to ply, and trust to finding one or other of -them at hand and ready to help. - -The barge was drifting broadside with the stream, and it was only by -dint of great efforts and strenuous pulling at the sweep that the boys -were able to bring her head in the desired direction. They had hardly -begun to creep towards the north bank when they heard shouts ahead, and -saw a wherry putting out from the southern shore and making to cross -their bows. - -The fiery aspect of the sky seemed to increase the heat of the summer -night, and Martin felt the sweat pouring off him in streams as he tugged -desperately at the sweep. He realised in a few moments the impossibility -of gaining the stairs before the wherry overtook him. To save the goods -was beyond hoping for; it would be as much as he could do to save -himself and Gundra from capture. They must abandon the barge and swim -for the shore, now perhaps some fifty yards distant. Could they do so -without being seen and followed? Martin had little doubt that the -pursuers would strain every nerve to capture them, and so ensure that -the sailing of the _Santa Maria_ should not be interfered with. - -“We must swim for it,” he said, dropping the sweep. “Come with me, and -keep low.” - -They crept behind the pile of cargo that had sheltered them when they -first boarded the barge, and slipped over the gunwale into the water on -the side remote from the pursuing wherry. Martin hoped to get at least -half way to the shore before he was seen. With Gundra he struck out -vigorously, but was soon conscious that his strength had already been -overtaxed, and he would be unable to keep up his stroke for more than a -minute or two. - -It seemed that they had only left the barge a few seconds when they -heard the wherry bump into its side, and the men scrambling on board, -cursing as they searched for the fugitives. The search did not last -long; one of the pursuers caught sight of the swimmers, who might -perhaps have got away unseen but for the glare of the Fire. - -“There they are!” - -The shout caused Martin and Gundra to put all their remaining strength -into their strokes. The pursuers rushed for their boat, and it was -fortunate for the swimmers that it lay on the farther side of the barge. -By the time it had been pulled round the stern the boys had entered -shallow water, and were wading ashore in the mud. - -And then the pursuers made a mistake. Had they continued on their course -upstream and rowed across to the nearest stairs, or to one of the quays -that broke the riverside, they could have landed well ahead of the boys -and met them while they were still floundering in the mud flats. But in -their haste and flurry, due no doubt to their wish to avoid drawing too -much attention from passing boats, they swung round against the current -and made toward the boys. - -Ankle deep in slime, Martin and Gundra struggled on to gain the waste -land that stretched up from the river bank. The pursuing boat rapidly -approached them, and was only some twenty yards behind when its nose -stuck in the mud, throwing the rowers forward over their oars. Cursing -violently, the men strove to back water, but the boat was held fast, the -oars were useless, and it was only after precious time had been wasted -that the men decided to jump overboard and continue the pursuit on foot. - -[Illustration] - -In the clinging mud their weight told against them. By the time they had -dragged themselves on to the dry land the boys were already disappearing -into the hedge-lined lane that wound north-westward in the direction of -Spitalfields. - -As they ran the chain by which Gundra had been fastened slipped from his -steel girdle, and its clanking gave a clue to their line of flight. They -heard the heavy feet of their pursuers thundering after them. Martin -tucked the chain up as well as he could, scarcely changing his pace, and -dragged Gundra along. In a minute or two they would reach houses, and -among them, shadowed from the glare of the Fire, they might hope to -elude further pursuit. - -“No can run,” panted Gundra suddenly, placing his hand over his heart. - -“A stitch,” thought Martin. - -To lose time would be fatal. Without a moment’s hesitation he hauled the -Indian through a thin place in the hedge. - -“Lie flat,” he whispered. “Don’t make a sound.” - -They lay beneath the hedge, trying to smother the sounds of their quick -breathing. The pursuers came up, passed; their footsteps receded. - -“Better wait and see if they come back,” thought Martin. “We are both -dog-tired, and want a rest.” - -Minutes passed. Martin listened for the sound of returning footsteps. -Presently he heard them, slow, dragging. The men went by on the other -side of the hedge; there was sullen rage in the tone of their voices. -Martin waited until he could hear them no longer; then he turned to the -Indian boy. - -“We can go now,” he said. “The pain is gone, Gundra?” - -Gundra was asleep. - - - - - CHAPTER THE THIRTY-FIRST - - - GOLLOP MAKES A DISCOVERY - -The little fellow screamed when Martin roused him, and started up in a -fright. - -“Hush! It’s all right,” said Martin. “The men have gone. We must get -home and tell Gollop all about it. He will tell us what is best to be -done.” - -He reflected that if, as he supposed, the barge held stolen goods that -were to form part of the cargo of the _Santa Maria_, it would take some -time to row that clumsy craft against the tide, and it might still be -possible to intervene before the vessel sailed. No doubt she would leave -her moorings as soon as the tide turned, and make what headway she could -against the east wind. - -Martin had no idea what hour of the night it was, and he was surprised, -before they had gone far on the homeward way, to notice signs of dawn in -the sky. When they reached the house the sun was peering above the -horizon, its beams competing with the glow of the Fire. - -Descending into the basement, Martin found the old Frenchman in anxious -consultation with the Gollops. - -“Here’s Martin!” cried Lucy gleefully. “Oh, I _am_ glad you’ve come -home. We’ve been in such a state about you.” - -“Not a wink of sleep for any of us all night,” said Susan. “Why, bless -me! Here’s the blackamoor too.” - -Gundra had crept in timidly behind the elder boy. - -“Now what have you to say for yourself?” the woman went on. “As if there -weren’t worries enough without——” - -“Peace, woman!” cried the constable. “Don’t rate the lad. He’s fair -foundered, by the look of him. Sit you down, Martin, and tell us what -has kept you out all night.” - -Martin was glad enough to rest, and Lucy had already taken possession of -Gundra, placed him in a corner of the settle, and was asking eager -questions about the strange girdle he wore about his body. - -Without wasting words Martin related how he had followed Mr. Slocum’s -handcart, been trapped in the yard, and finally carried off to the -disused warehouse; how he had escaped with Gundra, and got away on the -barge. - -“You’re a chip of the old block,” said Gollop delightedly; “and your -poor father would be proud of you.” - -“That Slocum’s a wretch,” said Susan. “I always said so. Now, what are -you going to do, Gollop?” - -“Do! What can I do?” - -“There’s a man for you! Just as bad as the Lord Mayor. What can you do, -indeed! Why, just set off after that barge this very minute and stop it -before it’s too late.” - -“Spoken like a woman,” responded Gollop. “You don’t understand the law, -Sue. Before that barge can be stopped there must be a warrant drawn up -proper, saying as how Richard Gollop, constable——” - -“Fiddle-diddle!” Susan broke in scornfully. “Go out and get your -warrant, then, instead of talking about it.” - -“I’d get never a magistrate to listen to me; they can’t think of nothing -but the Fire. But I’ll tell you what I will do: I’ll go down to the -river and see this vessel, _Santa_ something or other; there’s plenty of -time, for they’ve got to unload the barge. I’ll ask a question or two -along the riverside, and if what I hear bears out the lad’s tale——” - -“There! Get along with you,” cried his wife. “It’s a mercy the world -isn’t all made of men.” - -“What you can’t help, make the best of,” said Gollop, as he hurried -away. - -Susan quickly prepared a meal for the famished boys. While she did so -she continued the conversation with Mounseer which Martin’s entrance had -interrupted. It appeared that the Frenchman was becoming anxious about -the safety of the house. On returning home about midnight the constable -had reported that there were signs of the Fire’s working back against -the wind. Already several houses eastward of Pudding Lane had been -consumed by the flames, and although the danger was as yet not imminent, -there was a risk that if the wind lulled or changed, the area of -destruction would extend to the Tower and the adjacent streets. - -“Keep your mind easy, Mounseer,” said Susan with comfortable assurance. -“The neighbours will give us good warning if so be the Fire comes nigh, -and you’ll have time to collect your belongings; not that you’ve got -much to lose, so far as I know.” - -Martin caught a strange look on the Frenchman’s face as he left the room -to return to his own apartment. - -“When you’ve eat your fill, Martin,” said Susan, “you’d better go to -sleep. The blackamoor child has dropped off already, poor lamb!” - -Martin lay down on his bed, but he found it impossible to sleep. His -brain whirled with thoughts of the Fire, and the barge, and the _Santa -Maria_; of Slocum, and Blackbeard, and the rest; and in spite of Susan’s -confidence the mere suggestion that the Fire might spread to their own -house and swallow it up filled him with alarm. He could not bear to -think that the Gollops might presently be among the thousands of -families that had lost their all. - -Presently he could not endure inaction any longer. He sprang up. - -“I am going out,” he said. “I must see for myself where the Fire has got -to. I won’t be very long.” - -At the top of the stairs he banged into Gollop, red-faced and panting -through haste. - -“Bless my eyes! Here’s a wonder!” gasped the man. - -“What is it? Has the Fire got to us?” said Martin. - -“The Fire! What’s the Fire to you? Martin, my lad, never did I think I’d -live to see this day.” - -“Tell me—what is it?” asked Martin in wonder. - -“Why, call me a Dutchman if that there Portugal ship ain’t the _Merry -Maid_, your father’s own vessel what never came home, to his ruin, poor -old captain of mine. The moment I set eyes on her I rubbed ’em, ’cos I -couldn’t believe it. But I knowed them lines; I knowed the pretty -creature, though they’d done something to alter the look of her. She’s -the captain’s ship as sure as I’m alive. And now you must come with me; -we’ll go to the Lord Mayor or somebody and get a warrant. She’s ready to -slip her moorings; we must arrest her; what’s your father’s is yours; -that’s the law, and soon they’ll know it!” - -Waiting just long enough to tell his wife of his amazing discovery, the -constable hurried away with Martin in his quest of the Lord Mayor. But -that magnate was not to be found; nor were any of the sheriffs -discovered in the devastated city. Gollop, distracted, was beating his -wits to recall the name and address of some magistrate in a district -still untouched when Martin suddenly caught sight of Mr. Pemberton, the -customer of Slocum’s whom he had met on two occasions. The gentleman was -standing among a group of his friends, to whom he was pointing out the -site of his own ruined dwelling. - -“He must be a magistrate,” thought Martin, remembering how Mr. Pemberton -had interfered when the crowd was molesting the Frenchman. “I’ll ask -him.” - -He ran up to the group, pushed his way among them without much ceremony, -and said: - -“Sir, may I speak to you?” - -Mr. Pemberton stared at the eager boy, displeased at what appeared to be -an unmannerly intrusion. Then his brow cleared; he smiled and said: - -“My friend the fighter, isn’t it? Well, what have you been fighting -about now?” - -Martin coloured as he felt the eyes of the group focussed on him. But he -recovered his composure in a moment, and began to pour out his story. At -first the gentlemen listened with smiles of amusement or toleration, but -as he proceeded their interest was awakened, and Mr. Pemberton himself -watched him with keen attention. - -“Stay,” he said at one point. “Your father was Reuben Leake?” - -“Yes, sir, that was his name.” - -“I have heard of him; a sound mariner. Go on.” - -Martin continued his story, doing his best to make its complications -clear. - -“Now let me understand,” said Mr. Pemberton when he had finished. “This -vessel, the _Santa Maria_, once the _Merry Maid_, is on the point of -sailing with a cargo which you suspect to consist of stolen goods, some -of them the property of the respected goldsmith Mr. Greatorex. You say -that Mr. Slocum, Mr. Greatorex’s man, is concerned in this crime with -the captain of the vessel, whom you call Blackbeard, and a man named -Seymour. The crew is mainly foreign; they have held an Indian boy as a -slave, and they kidnapped him when you had rescued him from them, and -shut you up with him in a warehouse at Deptford. Have I the story -right?” - -“Yes, sir; all that is true.” - -“Well, let me say—and my friends will agree with me—that you have -shown uncommon intelligence and courage and resource. Your running off -with the barge was an admirable device and deserved to succeed. And now -I understand that you wish to have a warrant for the arrest of the -vessel before she leaves the river. But you must have someone in -authority to execute the warrant, and in the present state of the -city——” - -“There’s me, your worship,” broke in Gollop, who had stood at hand. -“Being a man of law in the shape of a constable——” - -“Ah! Well, we must lose no time. But I have no paper, no pen—— Stay, -is that a half-burnt ledger I see among the ashes there?” - -Martin leapt to the spot and picked up the book. Mr. Pemberton tore out -a page, hurriedly wrote a few lines upon it with a pencil, and handed it -to the constable. - -“There, my man,” he said, “that is the best I can do for you. I cannot -swear that the phraseology is absolutely in form, but it will serve. I -don’t know what you will do if your Blackbeard shows fight. There is no -available force to put at your disposal; you must do the best you can. I -wish you success. I shall be glad to learn the issue of this strange -affair.” - - - - - CHAPTER THE THIRTY-SECOND - - - THE PURSUIT - -Martin sat on a thwart side by side with Hopton, listening intently to -the discussion that passed between Gollop and Boulter as they pulled the -boat steadily downstream. - -“She got away with the first of the ebb,” said the constable. “What’s -the odds on our catching her?” - -“That depends,” replied the waterman cautiously. “I reckon she’s got -three or four hours’ start, but she won’t go faster than the tide.” - -“Not so fast, against this wind,” said Gollop. - -“True, but it ain’t blowing so hard, and it’s my belief it’ll drop to a -calm afore night. Well then, she’ll hardly make Gravesend afore the turn -of tide, and as she can’t beat up against the wind in the narrow reaches -she’ll have to lay up when the ebb fails. For summat about three hours -we ought to gain a bit on her, but not so much as to overhaul her, and -then we’ll have the tide against us.” - -“And be dead beat; I ain’t so handy with an oar as I was in my sea-going -days.” - -“Well, I’ve a friend or two in Woolwich, and if so be they ain’t saving -the London folk’s goods I’ll get ’em to come aboard and take a spell -while we rest. But suppose we catch the Portugal ship, what then, -Gollop?” - -“Why, I’ve got a warrant, ain’t I?” - -“Much good that’ll be,” said Boulter scornfully. “They won’t care a fig -for warrants or anything but swords and firelocks. You ought to have -took a boatload of soldiers, that’s what I say.” - -“Ay, it’s easy to say, but it couldn’t be done. Well, what you can’t -help, make the best of. I tell you this: that Portugal ship, leastways -the _Merry Maid_, shan’t get out of the river if I can help it.” - -Martin was half-inclined to regard the pursuit as a wild-goose chase, -and Hopton had nothing to say to encourage him; but uncertainty gave a -spice to the adventure, and they felt a pleasant thrill of anticipation. - -By the time they reached Woolwich the tide had turned, and Boulter -thought it well to pull to the shore, partly for rest and food, partly -to seek out his friends, enquire of them whether they had noticed the -Portugal ship, and try to enlist their help. Luckily he came upon two -watermen whom he knew well, and who were disengaged. From them he learnt -that the vessel had passed about three hours before; she had tow boats -out, towing her, and it was a matter of speculation on the riverside why -her crew were putting themselves to so much exertion in such hot -weather. - -Gollop’s face fell when he heard this news. It was clear that Blackbeard -expected pursuit, and was making all possible speed to evade it. -Boulter’s friends agreed to join the expedition, under promise of a good -reward if it proved successful, and the boat set off again after half an -hour’s delay, the fresh oarsmen making good progress even against the -tide. When all four men were pulling its pace was noticeably rapid, and -at Erith, six miles beyond Woolwich, Gollop was delighted to learn on -enquiry from an upgoing barge that the _Merry Maid_ was now little more -than two hours ahead. - -Hour after hour the rowers plied their oars, taking turns to rest in -couples. Martin and the old Frenchman, who had been up all night, fell -asleep on their seats, and when they awoke it was five o’clock in the -afternoon, and the boat was approaching Gravesend. Here Gollop decided -to go ashore, for as the day wore on he had become less confident, and -recognised that if Blackbeard and his crew resisted the arrest of the -ship the pursuers, hopelessly outnumbered, would not be able to enforce -it unless they could engage a party adequately armed. - -Both he and Boulter had acquaintances among the mariners of Gravesend, -but some of these were absent from their usual haunts, having been drawn -to London by the prospect of making money out of the Fire. Those who -remained showed themselves distrustful and suspicious; they were not to -be tempted to lend their services in a cause that might fail; and -Gollop, angry and troubled, made his way to the office of the Customs -officer of the port, and sought his aid as a brother man of the law. The -officer appeared to resent this claim of relationship, and treated the -constable very off-handedly. - -“Let me see this warrant you talk of,” he said, and when Gollop produced -the scrap of paper, creased, oddly-shaped, its edges frayed and -scorched, he sniffed. “I cannot act on this,” he said. “It is not drawn -up in proper form. The _Santa Maria_ has cleared; she is bound for -Lisbon, the port of an ally; she is beyond my jurisdiction.” - -At this Gollop lost his temper. - -“You and your long words!” he said. “That there vessel ain’t a Portugal -ship; she’s English from stem to stern; don’t I know? You’re neglecting -of your duty, master officer, and I’ll take good care that them above -you hear about it and you’ll get a rough hauling, my fine fellow.” - -“Get out of this,” cried the officer, losing his temper in turn. “You -may be a constable; I don’t know; but you’ll find your legs in the -stocks if you air your insolence on an officer of His Majesty’s -Customs.” - -“Come away, Dick,” said Boulter soothingly. “We ain’t done yet. And we -can’t afford to lose any more time. If the craft weathers Hope Point -she’ll have a clear run out and give us the slip altogether. Come on, -man.” - -Within a few minutes the boat was again under way. It was heavy work -pulling her down Gravesend Reach, and heavier still when, in Lower Hope -Reach, she came full in the teeth of the wind. An exclamation from -Martin caused Gollop to fling a hasty look over his shoulder. Strung out -along the lee shore three ships lay at anchor, evidently waiting for the -tide. - -“Easy all!” cried Gollop, shipping his oar. A look of triumph gleamed in -his eyes. “The second o’ them vessels—she’s the _Merry Maid_, bless her -heart!” - -“Are you sure?” said Boulter. “She’s three-quarters of a mile away.” - -“Sure! Am I sure I’ve a nose on my face? That there’s my dear old -captain’s craft, one in a thousand. She’s safe for a few hours. We’ll go -ashore and wet our whistles, my mates; this is a chance we’ve got to -make the best of.” - -They pulled in towards the shore, but lay a few yards off the mud flats -to talk over the next step before they landed. - -“We can’t fight ’em, that’s certain,” said Boulter, “being only seven -all told, two of us just boys, and one a aged furriner.” - -Mounseer smiled, and fingered his rapier. - -“True for you, mate,” said Gollop. “Well, if you ain’t strong enough to -fight, what do you do?” - -“Speaking for myself, I plays a trick.” - -“Spoke like a wise man. Now what trick could you play?” - -“That depends,” said Boulter, scratching his head. “What about boring a -hole in her hull?” - -“Seeing as none of us is a sword-fish, that can’t be done without ’tis -noticed. What about giving ’em a scare? Them furriners are easy -frightened.” - -“You couldn’t scare ’em into quitting the vessel. But you talk of -furriners. Now I come to think of it, I’ve knowed furren gentlemen put -aboard outgoing vessels in the river—gentlemen as want to get away -secret, and pay well for it. If so be——” - -He paused and looked at the Frenchman. - -“If so be as our furren gentleman could go aboard as a passenger, maybe -the rest of us could get aboard too, eh?” - -“Well, what then?” - -“Why, that’s the trick, d’you see? What I say is——” - -“But perhaps Mr. Seymour’s aboard, and he knows Mounseer,” said Martin. - -“So much the better,” cried Gollop, slapping his thigh. “But what does -Mounseer say?” - -“I do anything what please you,” said the Frenchman quietly. - -Five minutes’ close discussion ensued. Then the boat’s head was turned -upstream, and the little party, hopeful and elated, was speeding back to -Gravesend. - - - - - CHAPTER THE THIRTY-THIRD - - - AT GRIPS AT LAST - -In Gravesend they spent a busy hour. While Boulter bought a small -sea-chest at a marine store, Gollop purchased cutlasses for the watermen -and a stout staff for Martin: Hopton fortunately had brought his club. A -visit to a slop shop provided sea-jackets and hats for the two boys, and -so disguised they might have been taken for cabin boys ashore. The -cutlasses, wrapped in sacking, were laid in the chest. - -“We’d better wait for the dusk,” said Gollop. “How about the tide, -Boulter?” - -“’Twill turn at dusk or thereabouts,” replied the waterman. “But the -wind’s dropping, so we mustn’t bide too long or the barque will slip -us.” - -“True; but we’ll have time to fill our holds, which I mean to say our -stomachs. An empty man’s only half a man, and every one of us will have -to make two to-night, or I’m a Dutchman.” - -Repairing to the Three Tuns inn, the little party made a good meal; then -they returned to the wherry and set off on their adventure. The tide was -still running up, but the force of the wind had sensibly diminished, and -they made good progress toward their destination. - -The sun was setting behind them, and a slight haze crept over the river. -Presently the _Santa Maria_ hove in sight. - -“All’s quiet on deck,” said Gollop, looking eagerly ahead. “They feel -pretty snug: so much the better.” - -The approach of the wherry was apparently not noticed on board. It had -drawn under the vessel’s quarter before Boulter raised a hail. - -“_Santa Maria_ ahoy!” he called. - -A dark face showed itself above the gunwale. - -“Captain aboard?” said Boulter. - -The man nodded. - -“I want a word with him,” the waterman continued. - -There was no answer: the man simply stared. - -“Speakee capitano,” said Boulter, as if obligingly suiting his language -to the comprehension of a foreigner. - -In a few halting words of broken English the man declared that the -captain was at supper and must not be disturbed. - -“What you want?” he concluded. - -“Never you mind,” said Boulter. “Bring capitano: maybe he’ll understand -plain English.” - -After some further colloquy the man was prevailed upon to seek the -captain, and Martin felt a cold trickle along his spine when he saw in -the fading light the face of Blackbeard looking down from the poop. -Instinctively he shrank down on his seat. - -“What you want?” demanded the captain, with his foreign accent. - -“A gentleman wishes a passage in your vessel, captain,” said Boulter, -persuasively. “He must get aboard at once: a foreign gentleman, you -understand: can pay well: fifty pounds, say.” - -“It is impossible,” said Blackbeard bluntly. “There is not cabin room -for passenger. No; impossible.” - -Another face was peering over his shoulder, and Martin effaced himself -more thoroughly as he recognised Slocum. The goldsmith threw a searching -glance over the boat. Martin saw him start, pluck Blackbeard by the -sleeve, and draw him out of sight. - -“Did he see me?” thought Martin, quaking a little. - -In a minute he was reassured. Blackbeard returned alone, and Martin -noticed that his eyes at once sought Mounseer, who was sitting on a -thwart next to Gollop. - -“I have considered,” he said. “Perhaps for one. You said one?” - -“Yes: one gentleman: a Frenchman,” said Boulter. “London is not safe for -the French. He was beset in the street.” - -“Very well; he shall come. And quick: soon will the tide turn.” - -He called up a seaman, and bade him lower a rope-ladder from the waist. -Mounseer got up, and staggered. - -“He is old and weak,” said Boulter. “Some of you help him, there.” - -According to the plan previously arranged, Martin and Gollop each took -one of the Frenchman’s arms and led him to the ladder. Martin climbed -nimbly to the deck, then turned to assist Mounseer, who ascended slowly, -Gollop following. To all appearances the Frenchman was feeble, -exhausted; he tottered and swayed between the others when all three were -on board. Meanwhile Boulter’s two watermen friends were proceeding to -carry up the sea-chest, which might be supposed to contain the -passenger’s baggage. - -“Come with me,” said Blackbeard. “We will make bargain.” - -He led the way towards the round-house, a sort of cabin on the upper -deck. Martin and Gollop led Mounseer between them. Slocum had -disappeared; the only persons visible were Blackbeard, the dark-faced -seaman, and some members of the crew who were lying outstretched on the -planks, resting, no doubt, after their exertions in towing the vessel. - -Martin looked curiously about the round-house as he entered. It -contained a well-spread table, two chairs and two berths; the walls were -lined with racks containing arms of all kinds: firelocks, picks, swords, -pistols. - -At a gesture from Blackbeard the Frenchman sank into one of the chairs. - -“Now you go,” the captain commanded, turning to Martin and Gollop. “I -will finish the bargain with this gentleman.” - -“Begging your pardon, sir,” said Gollop quietly, “but afore I go it is -in a manner of speaking——” - -“What you mean?” said Blackbeard, truculently. “I say you go: there is -no more for you: you have done; the business is with this gentleman.” - -“So it is, to be sure,” returned Gollop unperturbed. “Leastways a part -of it. But afore I go, it is in a manner of speaking my duty as an -officer of the law to show you a dokyment——” - -He had drawn from his pocket the warrant signed by Mr. Pemberton and was -proceeding to unfold it. But something in his manner had aroused -suspicion in the captain, who made a quick sidelong movement and -snatched at a pistol in the nearest rack. - -Then the Frenchman, who had appeared so weak and faint, showed a -marvellous alacrity for a man of his years and impotence. He sprang up -from his chair, whipped out his rapier from under his cloak, and had its -point within an inch of Blackbeard’s throat while his hand was still -closing over the pistol butt. - -For a second or two there was silence as the men faced each other. -Martin, quivering with excitement, took in the details of the scene: -Gollop flourishing the paper in his hand; Blackbeard, his hand -outstretched, his nostrils dilating, his eyes glaring; Mounseer cool, -smiling, watching the other as a cat watches a mouse. - -Then the silence was broken. The Frenchman, wearing his inscrutable -smile, said gently, in a tone not above the conversational pitch: - -“Monsieur recognises—is it not so?—that he must render himself?” - -Blackbeard made no answer in words, but his eyes narrowed, his fingers -tightened on the pistol, and he made an almost imperceptible movement. -The Frenchman read the intention in his eyes. The smile disappeared, -giving place to a look of grim resolution. One twist of the wrist, and -the rapier point, an instant before at the man’s throat, flickered like -a flash of lightning and pricked him in the forearm. He winced; the -pistol fell clattering to the floor; and he let out a cry, a loud wild -cry that must have rung through the ship from stem to stern: a rallying -cry to his crew. - -Next instant a door at the farther end of the round-house, which had -stood ajar, was flung open, and a water-bottle hurtled across the room. -It missed the Frenchman’s head by an inch, and crashed against the wall. -Through the door rushed two men, one behind the other. In the foremost -Martin recognised Mr. Seymour, the tenant of the upper floor whose -dealings with Blackbeard had first awakened his suspicions. It was he -who had thrown the bottle; the second man was for the moment hidden from -view behind him. - -Between the table and the wall on either side there was only a narrow -gangway, partly obstructed by the chairs. As he dashed forward, Seymour -snatched at a cutlass hanging above the rack of arms. He grasped it, but -by the blade, for the hilt was higher than his head. To make effective -play with it he must needs lift it from its nail and reverse it: even -then the narrow gangway would allow him no room to swing it, nor the low -roof space in which to bring it above his head: he could only give -point. - -But before he could reverse the weapon and grasp the hilt Gollop had -found himself. Dropping his warrant, he flung himself forward with a -leonine roar. Recalling the fight afterwards Martin wondered how the -burly constable had managed to squeeze himself between the table and the -wall to meet the attack. The chair went clattering along the floor; a -blow from Gollop’s sledge-hammer fist, with sixteen stone of brawn -behind it, caught Seymour clean between the eyes and sent him hurtling -over the broken chair upon the man behind. He dropped; his companion -staggered, recovered himself, and, shouting a furious curse, sprang -forward cutlass in hand. - -Protected in some degree by the huddled form of Seymour, he made a -desperate lunge at Gollop, who had been carried forward by his own -momentum, and could now neither advance nor retreat. At this critical -moment Martin seized the second chair, and, gathering his strength, -hurled it at Slocum. It took him at the level of his belt and doubled -him up. - -Then from without came a medley of shouts and the rustling thud of bare -feet upon the boards. - - - - - CHAPTER THE THIRTY-FOURTH - - - GOLLOP AT BAY - -The light of battle gleamed in Gollop’s eyes. He was no longer the -constable, whose weapons were a staff and a rattle, but the boatswain of -old, who had borne his part in many a fight with pirates in the days -when he sailed the far seas with Captain Leake. - -“I carries more flesh now than I did then,” he said afterwards, when -telling the story to his cronies. “That’s what comes of marrying a good -wife what looks after your vittles. Still, what you can’t help, make the -best of; that’s what I always say.” - -Bulky though he was, at this critical moment he showed himself -astonishingly agile. He snatched two cutlasses from the stand of arms, -and thrust one into Martin’s hand. - -“Better than a stick, my lad,” he said. “Stand you guard over they two -rascals”—he indicated Slocum and Seymour, who were sitting more or less -disabled on the floor. “If they stir, touch ’em with the point.” - -Then, rather breathlessly, he turned to meet the rush at the door. - -Meanwhile the Frenchman was keeping an eye on Blackbeard. Disarmed and -injured, the captain of the _Santa Maria_ stood between the table and -the wall, his dark face distorted with fury. Mounseer could not attack -him again while he was unarmed, nor was there space or time for the duel -that would have rejoiced the Frenchman’s heart. But he knew that if he -took his eye off him for a moment he might expect a rush, and all that -he could do was to shift his ground slightly so that he might be able to -lend aid to Gollop if the crew made a determined assault through the -door. - -“You will have the goodness to retire yourself one step or two,” he said -to Blackbeard, his tone icily polite. To give himself room it was -necessary that the captain should move backward into the round-house. - -Blackbeard muttered a curse under his breath, but refused to budge. - -“Eh bien, voilà!” said the Frenchman, with a sudden deft movement -pricking him with the point of his rapier. - -The captain winced, shrieked out an oath, but made no more ado about -obeying orders. Then Mounseer half turned, and stood so that he could -either check Blackbeard if he showed fight, or move to Gollop’s help, as -the occasion might demand. - -Cutlass in hand, Martin stood over his prisoners, who had shown no sign -of activity themselves, but were looking eagerly, hopefully, towards the -door. Martin found it difficult to prevent his attention from being -distracted by the fight that was now raging there. The crew of the -vessel, headed by the officer whom Martin had seen once before, had -surged in a yelling crowd towards the round-house, catching up as they -ran any object that would serve as a weapon. Some had marline-spikes, -one brandished a short spar, another a hanger; several had drawn -evil-looking knives, and fat Sebastian wielded a meat chopper. - -But there was no order or discipline among them. Shouting, -gesticulating, they got in one another’s way in their struggle to reach -the door, where Gollop coolly awaited their onset. His broad form -blocked up the narrow entrance; the foreigners could attack only one at -a time; and as they came on, one by one, each was put out of action by a -sudden thrust or cut or lunge of the cutlass wielded by a master hand. - -Martin glowed with admiration as he watched the swift movements of the -big man. Planted firmly on his feet, his body scarcely swayed; but his -sword-arm swept from side to side, and the furious yells of his -opponents bespoke their sense of failure. Baffled, they fell back; they -collected in a group to devise some plan whereby they might overcome -this doughty defender of the door. - -Suddenly there was a shout behind them. - -“Ahoy! ahoy! Firk ’em! At ’em, my hearties!” - -The startled group turned; there were a few moments of wild confusion. -Martin, looking under Gollop’s arm, saw a welter of men, some bowled -over like ninepins, others crawling away on hands and knees. The -watermen, with George Hopton, taking their cue from the noises on deck, -had swarmed up from the wherry and swept upon the foreigners from the -rear. They burst through, irresistible; the crew scattered to right and -left; and then Gollop issued forth from the doorway and joined his -friends with a roar of welcome. - -“Round ’em up! Round ’em up!” he cried, and striding ahead of his little -party he chased the crew around the deck, across the waist, down the -ladders, into every corner where they sought refuge. Bereft of their -leaders they had no heart to fight. Within a very few minutes the -foreigners had surrendered, and were herded into the forecastle. - -A few minutes more, and the prisoners in the round-house were sitting in -a disconsolate line against the wall, their hands and feet securely -tied. - -“A very pretty job,” said Gollop, looking approvingly at the watermen’s -work. “I reckon they knots be firm enough, Mounseer; still, ’tis as well -to make sure; so maybe you’ll stand over ’em with that steel of yours -while we go and see what’s in them brass-bound boxes.” - -The Frenchman smiled, and held his rapier at the salute. - - - - - CHAPTER THE THIRTY-FIFTH - - - MARTIN TO THE RESCUE - -Gollop was in a quandary. - -He had got possession of the _Santa Maria_, which would henceforth be -called by her old name, the _Merry Maid_: what was he to do with her? -Night had fallen; the tide was running out again to the sea; it seemed -necessary to wait for morning light and the turn of the tide before the -vessel could be floated back to London. But the constable had left his -duty without leave from his commanding officer, and though he had Mr. -Pemberton’s warrant to produce in self-justification, he felt that if a -strict judgment were passed upon his action, he was in danger of losing -his livelihood. - -“Seems to me I’d better leave you in command, lad,” he said to Martin, -“the ship being yours, and row back to the city.” - -“But you are tired,” replied Martin; “it would be a terribly hard pull -against the tide, and we can’t spare anyone to go with you; we’re very -few to hold the ship if the crew break out of the forecastle.” - -“Besides, there’s them boxes,” Boulter put in. The boxes had been opened -and examined: they were full of plate and jewellery. “I reckon they’re -worth a good few thousands of pounds, and Mr. Greatorex is so much -beholden to you that he’ll see you don’t lose by the night’s work.” - -“Maybe; gratitude ain’t a partickler common virtue. Howsomever, what you -can’t help, make the best of. I’ll bide here till morning, and then -we’ll see. Martin, my lad, you’re dead beat; you’ve got old eyes; turn -in, you and your friend, and sleep sound till I wake you.” - -Martin was glad enough to stretch himself on the deck against the -bulwark; his recent experiences had worn him out. - -“Your Gollop’s a Trojan,” said Hopton as he threw himself beside him. “I -say, I’ll go with you to Tyburn to see Slocum hanged.” - -“I suppose he _will_ be hanged?” said Martin sleepily. - -“Certain sure. It will be a great show. I expect he’ll make a fine -speech on the gallows.” - -But Martin was already asleep. - -When he awoke in the early morning he found that Gollop, in consultation -with the watermen, had planned out his course of action. The vessel -would be left in charge of the Customs officers, who would put a crew on -board, and lodge the criminals, Slocum, Blackbeard, and Seymour, in -jail; then the boarding party would return to the City, Gollop would -report to his captain, and a posse of constables would no doubt be -dispatched to convey the criminals to London for trial. - -About half-past five Boulter’s wherry set off on its return journey to -London. The party were well satisfied with the result of their -expedition, but the pleasure of some of them was alloyed with anxiety. -During the night the wind had fallen away; the air was still; and -Gollop, equally with the Frenchman, was filled with foreboding as to the -progress the Fire might have made during the twelve hours of his -absence. Already, before his departure, the flames had worked back -against the wind in the direction of the Tower, and now that there was -not even the wind to check them, he was on tenterhooks lest they might -have gained his house. - -Mounseer, so calm and self-possessed during the scene in the round-house -of the _Merry Maid_, was now a prey to nervous agitation, which -increased minute by minute as the wherry neared its destination. He said -nothing, but the twitching of his eyelids and the restless movements of -his hands were clear signs of his perturbation of spirit. Martin -wondered, for, like Susan Gollop, he had seen nothing of value in the -old gentleman’s apartment, and such possessions as he had could be -removed in a few minutes if the house were attacked by the Fire. - -The watermen pulled in to the steps where Martin had first become -suspicious of Slocum. There the party separated: Gollop to seek his -captain, Hopton to return home, the watermen to resume their vocation; -Martin and the Frenchman to regain their dwelling-house. - -“If so be the house has caught, lad,” said Gollop at parting, “I trust -to you to look after my Sue and the little one. I’ll come home the very -first minute I can.” - -Martin’s misgivings increased as he hurried with Mounseer through the -streets. - -“I’m sure that’s Clothworkers Hall in Mincing Lane,” he said, noticing a -huge body of yellow flame rising high into the air some distance to the -left. - -He stopped a man who was hurrying past, and asked him how far the Fire -had got. - -“How far? Where have you been, then?” was the reply. “Paul’s Church is -in ashes; so’s Fleet Street and——” - -“I mean on this side.” - -“Why, the Custom House by the river has gone, so’s a part of Tower -Street, and Mincing Lane, and the parsonage of Barking Church——” - -“Juste ciel!” cried the Frenchman. “Our house is near of that. Haste! -haste!” - -His mental distress, following on the fatigues of the night, rendered -the old gentleman’s steps unsteady, and he clung to Martin’s arm for -support. They hurried on, their alarm growing from moment to moment. -Every now and then they heard a terrific explosion, and saw immense -columns of smoke, dust, and fragments of wood spring into the air. - -“What’s that?” asked Martin of a passer-by. - -“Blowing up houses in Seething Lane,” the man replied. - -“Mon Dieu! How close!” muttered the Frenchman. “For me it is ruin, -ruin!” - -At last they turned the corner from which their house could be seen. One -glance was enough. Flames were bursting from the roof. It appeared that -the house had caught fire at the top from floating sparks. People were -running hither and thither in the street, carrying away their goods from -the neighbouring houses. In the roadway before the house was a little -group of three—Susan Gollop, Lucy, and the Indian boy, standing guard -over the household gear piled in the roadway. - -Susan’s set face relaxed as she saw Martin running towards her. - -“Where’s Gollop? Where’s my man?” she cried. - -“He’s quite safe; he’ll be here soon,” Martin replied. “Have you got -everything out?” - -“Everything but the copper. We couldn’t lift that. Come back, Mounseer; -we’ve got your things too.” - -The Frenchman had withdrawn his arm from Martin’s and was hurrying into -the open doorway of the house. He paid no attention to Susan’s cry, but -disappeared. - -“Well I declare!’ cried Susan. “Did you ever know such a foolish old -gentleman! Because he’s French, I suppose. Me and the blackamoor brought -out all his bits of things with our own hands: here they are. But I -suppose he wants to make sure we’ve got ’em all.” - -“I’ll go and bring him back,” said Martin. - -“No, no; bide here. He’ll see the room’s empty and come back himself in -a twink. There’s no call for you to go into the smother.” - -Martin allowed himself to be restrained. A knot of spectators had -gathered, and stared up at the burning house. The flames were spreading -from the roof downwards. Smoke was pouring out of the windows. Susan -watched grimly; Lucy, her eyes wide with awe, clung convulsively to -Gundra, who seemed the least concerned of all. - -Minute after minute passed. There was no sign of the Frenchman. The -window of his room was closed, but smoke was trickling out at the edges -of the casement. - -“Oh! where is my dear Mounseer?” cried Lucy, tearfully. - -“Drat the man!” said Susan. “What in the world he’s doing I don’t know. -He must have a bee in his bonnet. Here now—Martin—come back! Come -back, I say!” - -But Martin, unable to bear the suspense any longer, had broken away and -dashed into the burning house to find his old friend. - - - - - CHAPTER THE THIRTY-SIXTH - - - MARTIN’S ORDEAL - -Martin was only partly conscious of what he passed through during the -next minute, and not at all aware of the risks he ran. - -The old timber house had ignited from the top; the roof had burnt -through, and blazing fragments, falling on to the landings below, had -set fire to the walls and the floors. Already the flames were eating -away the stairs, and Martin, groping his way up through the smoke and by -the aid of the banisters, was awakened to realities by a sudden sharp -stinging pain as his hand touched a place that was on fire. - -“Mounseer! Mounseer!” he called as he bounded up. - -There was no answer. - -He reached the landing at the top of the first flight. Through the -Frenchman’s open doorway, a little way to the right, thick grey smoke -was pouring. Moment by moment red-hot splinters crashed down upon the -landing, and from above came the roar and crackle of the devouring -flames. - -“Mounseer!” Martin shouted; then caught his breath and coughed as the -acrid smoke filled his throat. - -His smarting eyes streamed with water. Half blinded, he pressed his lips -firmly together and dashed across the landing into the open doorway. The -room was thick with smoke: for a moment Martin was compelled to close -his eyes; when he opened them again he saw flames bursting through the -ceiling. Part of a blazing rafter fell at his feet, and he staggered -back as innumerable sparks flew up in his face. - -“Mounseer! Mounseer!” he spluttered. - -There was no sound but the ever-growing roar of the flames. - -Guessing from the denseness of the smoke that the windows were closed, -unable to see anything clearly, Martin in desperation caught up a small -stool which he had touched with his feet and hurled it in the direction -of the window overlooking the waste ground at the back. There was a -crash of breaking glass; the smoke began to pour out through the -shattered pane, and taking advantage of the immediate lightening of the -air Martin started to grope round the room in search of the Frenchman. - -He stumbled against the table, knocked his shins against the edge of the -bed, felt across it with his hands: there was no sign of Mounseer. -Finding that he could breathe more freely near the floor he dropped on -his hands and knees and began to crawl, wincing every now and then as he -touched a fragment of burning wood. - -He made for the cupboard in the corner, thinking that Mounseer might -have been overpowered by the smoke as he stood to save some of his few -possessions there. But there was no sign of him in the corner. He worked -back, and had almost completed the tour of the room when, behind the -door, he stumbled upon something hard. It was the sole of a shoe. In -another moment he knew that the body of the Frenchman was stretched -along the floor close against the wall. - -Raising himself, he seized Mounseer’s feet and tried to drag him out -upon the landing. But suddenly his strength failed: overcome by the -smoke he fell gasping across the prostrate body, and lay for a few -moments in a state of collapse. - -Collecting himself with a great effort, he struggled to his feet and -managed to pull the inert form as far as the doorway before once more -faintness overtook him, and again he fell. - -He tried to shout for help, but only a feeble croak issued from his -parched lips. A terrible fear assailed him: if a few minutes’ immersion -in the smoke could rob him of his strength, how must it be with the -Frenchman, who had been so much longer exposed? Was he too late? Was the -old gentleman past help? - -The thought nerved him to one more effort. He rose, and pulled with all -his might at the Frenchman’s legs. Staggering, he got him through the -doorway on to the landing. Here there was a little more air, but -Martin’s head swam; sick and dizzy he reeled, fell, and struck his head -against the banisters. At the moment of his losing consciousness there -was a noise in his ears, above the roar of the flames—a noise as of -people shouting and running. - -When he came to himself he was lying in the roadway. His head and chest -were wet. His dazed, aching eyes saw Susan Gollop bending over him; in -the background were other figures, among which he by and by recognised -that of George Hopton. - -“Mounseer!” he murmured. - -“Mounseer is safe, my lamb,” said Susan, her tone unusually soft. “Take -a drink: you’ll soon be all right again.” - -He drank greedily from the cup she offered. A well-dressed elderly -gentleman came forward. - -“He is recovering, mistress?” he said. - -“Ay, sir, thank God!” replied Susan. “But I wish Gollop would come. I -don’t know what in the world we are to do now. The old house is done -for: we’ve got our little bits of furniture here, but nowhere to go.” - -“Don’t distress yourself, my good woman,” said the gentleman. “I will -make it my charge to look after you all until something can be arranged. -I would take you to my own house were it not so far away; that is -impossible; but I will at once ride off to a farm I know at Islington, -where I make no doubt I can arrange for your housing.” - -He crossed the road to where a boy was holding a horse, mounted, and -rode away. - -“Who is that?” Martin murmured. George Hopton came and stood by him. - -“Mr. Greatorex, to be sure,” answered Susan, “and a real kind gentleman. -Brave too; ay, a man of bravery if ever there was one, and quick of his -mind. He came riding up with this lad perched behind him, and the way he -got off that horse—well, ’twas a wonderful spring for a man of his -years. ‘Where’s Martin Leake?’ he sings out. ‘In the house,’ says I, -‘a-saving of the old gentleman on the first floor.’ ‘Isn’t there a _man_ -that could have done that?’ says he, scornful-like, looking round on the -crowd. And I must own they was an idle lot, all eyes and no sense. Well, -he didn’t wait a moment, but dashed into the house—though I’ll own this -lad was in front of him. My heart was in my mouth when I saw ’em vanish -into that furnace and heard ’em shouting for you——” - -“Mounseer! what of Mounseer?” asked Martin again, as remembrance came to -his dazed mind. - -“Safe and sound, bless you,” replied Susan; “that is, he will be, when -he’s come to proper. He’s over yonder, with a doctor looking after him. -It seemed an age before Mr. Greatorex came out again, though I suppose -’twas no more than a minute or two. He had you in his arms, and my heart -went pit-a-pat that dreadful when I saw your pale face and your poor -burnt hands. And behind him was this lad with Mounseer on his back: a -strong lad, and a good lad too. And you hadn’t been out of the house two -ticks when the floors fell in with a terrible crash, and sparks flying -all across the street. ’Twas a merciful Providence that sent Mr. -Greatorex in the very nick of time to save you from being burnt alive.” - -“But I don’t understand—Mr. Greatorex—how—why did he want me?” - -“I can tell you that,” said Hopton. “I went up to the shop to see if -there was anything left of it. My word! the ground did scorch my feet. -Of course it’s nothing but a black ruin: all Cheapside is burnt. I was -just coming away when Mr. Greatorex rode up. He’d come up from the -country; only think: the smoke and bits of black paper and stuff have -been carried forty or fifty miles away. He asked me about Slocum, and -whether the goods had been saved in time; and then I told him all I -knew, and said that the goods were safe on board the ship, and ’twas all -owing to you. ‘Take me at once to that Martin Leake,’ says he, and he -was in such a hurry that he made me get up on the saddle behind him: -first time in my life I’ve ever been on a horse, and don’t I ache with -the jolting! Then it happened as Mrs. Gollop said: we found you and the -old Frenchman in a heap on the landing, and we weren’t long bringing you -out, I can tell you.” - -“And such foolishness of Mounseer!” said Susan. “Nearly lost his life, -and yours too, and what for? Just for a bit of a box.” - -“A brass-bound box?” said Martin. - -“No, there’s no brass about it, so far as I could see, though he kept it -so tight in his arms that no one could see it proper. He’d quite lost -his senses when the lad brought him out, but d’you think he’d let go of -that box? Not for ever so. He clung to it as if it was the most vallyble -thing in the whole world—just a bit of a box, leather I fancy, but so -old and worn that—there, you never can tell what queer things some -folks take a fancy to.” - -“But what’s in the box?” - -“Ah, who’s to say? He’s got it in his arms still, and there it’ll be -until he’s rightly come to himself. Are you feeling better now, my -dear?” - -“Yes, though I’m rather chokey, and my hands smart.” - -“To be sure they do, and I’ve no oil to put on ’em. But I’ll get some -soon, and if Mr. Greatorex is a man of his word—and I don’t say he -isn’t—we’ll soon have you in a comfortable bed in a farm-house, and -milk and cream, and—why, it’ll be a holiday in the country, what I’ve -wanted for years. You’ll like that, won’t you, Lucy?” she asked, as the -child ran up. - -“Mounseer’s opened his eyes,” said Lucy. “I’m so glad. He smiled at me. -And then he asked for Martin. And then he said some funny words _I_ -couldn’t understand. And then he told me to come and say ‘Thank you’ a -thousand times to Martin. That was just his fun, of course, for I -couldn’t say it so many times as that, could I?” - -“That’s just his foreign way, my dear,” said Susan. “Once is enough with -English people. Run back and tell him that Martin is all right, and -we’re all going to a farm in the country. I do wish Gollop would come -home.” - - - - - CHAPTER THE THIRTY-SEVENTH - - - ALL’S WELL - -Not many hours later, in one of the comfortable rooms of a large -farm-house near the village of Islington, Dick Gollop and his wife, -Martin and Lucy and Gundra, and Mounseer—whose name was Monsieur Raoul -Marie de Caudebec—had just finished the best meal they had had for many -a day. - -Mr. Greatorex—proving himself to be a man of his word—had sent them -from the City in a hired coach, and arranged that their furniture should -follow in a wagon. He himself had promised to come and see them as soon -as he had had an interview with one of the sheriffs. - -The burns of Martin and the Frenchman had been treated with oil and -flour, and it was Susan Gollop’s opinion that, except for a scar or two, -they would show no permanent marks of their recent terrible experience. - -“And I daresay Martin won’t show none at all,” she said. “He’s young, -and young skin has time to change itself over and over again. And as to -Mounseer—well, he’s old, and I don’t suppose he’ll mind if he do bear a -blemish or two.” - -“That is philosophy, madam,” said the Frenchman with a smile. - -“Your box is marked worse than you,” Susan went on, eyeing with simple -curiosity the small leather casket that lay on the table at Mounseer’s -right hand. “You can’t make a new thing of a bit of old leather, -specially when it’s had a thorough good scorching.” - -“That is true, madam.” Mounseer laid his hand on the casket. “It is old, -older than I am; it was to my grandfather.” - -“Gracious me! Then it must be very ancient, for you ain’t a chicken -yourself. I don’t mean no offence, Mounseer.” - -“I am sure of that: it is just the English way. Eh well, my friends, you -have been so good to me that I owe you to explain. One does not talk of -the private affairs until the time comes. This is the time.” - -And then he proceeded to relate a story that held the rapt attention of -his hearers. Escaping from persecution in France, he had brought with -him nothing but his rapier and the casket that contained a number of -valuable jewels, heirlooms in his family. These were his only means of -support. One by one, as he needed money, he had sold them to Mr. Slocum. -His wants being simple, he had made the money go a long way, and he -hoped that the contents of the casket would last for the rest of his -life. - -“There now!” exclaimed Susan. “And you _would_ buy lollipops for Lucy! -You didn’t ought to, Mounseer, and I wouldn’t have allowed it if I’d -known.” - -“And so you would have robbed me of a great pleasure,” said the old -gentleman. - -“I see it now,” said Martin. “You sold your jewels from time to time to -Slocum, and he knew how valuable they were, though I don’t suppose he -paid you anything like what they were worth. And then he had planned to -rob Mr. Greatorex, and being greedy, wanted the rest of your jewels as -well. That explains the attacks on your room.” - -Mounseer assented, adding that he had of course never suspected Mr. -Slocum of any part in those attacks. Determined to protect his property, -he had removed a length of the wainscoting of the wall of his room, and -hidden the casket in the cavity behind. When his room was ransacked, -this hiding-place remained undiscovered. He had only just removed the -casket when he was overcome by the smoke. - -“And it is to you, my friend,” he said, turning to Martin, “that I owe -that I have still the means to live; and when I die, if any of my jewels -are left, they shall be to you: I will so ordain it in my testament.” - -“That’s handsome said,” cried Dick Gollop. - -“But I hope there will be none left,” said Martin, flushing. - -“Meaning that you’ll live as long as Methusalem, Mounseer,” said Susan. -“And we all agree: of that I’m very sure.” - -“I do not covet so long a life,” said Mounseer, “but it must be as the -good God pleases.” - -“Ay, and what you can’t help, make the best of,” said Gollop. “That -Slocum and his crowd, now—their course is set for the gallows, and I -hope as they’ll put a cheerful face on it. Nothing upsets me more than -to see a man draw down his chops when he’s on his way to be hanged. He -can’t get out of it, so his looks might just as well be sweet as sour.” - -Next day, when Mr. Greatorex paid his promised visit to the farm, he -brought some interesting news. The man who called himself Seymour, but -whose real name was Smith, had purchased his freedom by volunteering to -turn King’s evidence, and had already made a long statement. It appeared -that the man whom Martin had called Blackbeard was a brother of Slocum, -and had spent a good many years in piracy on the eastern seas. He had -captured Captain Leake’s vessel the _Merry Maid_, made some few -alterations in her cut—not skilfully enough to deceive the sharp eyes -of Dick Gollop—changed her name to the _Santa Maria_, and brought her -into dock after a brush with the French. He himself pretended to be a -foreigner and had assumed a foreign accent at times. - -Meeting his brother after many years’ absence, he had suggested that the -most valuable articles in Mr. Greatorex’s stock of plate and jewellery -should be gradually transferred to his vessel, carried to Portugal and -sold. Seymour had been admitted as a partner, and had taken a lodging in -the same house as the Frenchman, partly because his room would be -convenient as a temporary storing place, and partly that he might assist -in the robbery of Mounseer’s valuables. The outbreak of the Fire had -enabled Slocum to carry off the whole of the stock openly. - -Mr. Greatorex was loud in praise of Martin for the large share he had -had in saving the goods. He offered to take him as a regular apprentice, -but learning that Martin had a passion for the sea, he agreed to place -him on a King’s ship, and promised to take charge of Lucy. And being in -want of a gardener for his country house, he asked Gollop whether he -would like to exchange his constable’s staff for a spade. - -“Well, sir, I take it kind of you,” said Dick. “I don’t mind if I do. I -knows nothing about gardening, but then I knowed nothing about the law -till I took up with it, and as a man of law I reckon I’ve a pretty good -name in London town. I’ll do my best, and if I ain’t very good at it -just at first, well, what _I_ can’t help, _you_'ll make the best of, -I’ll be bound.” - -It only remained to dispose of Gundra. Susan Gollop undertook to give -him a home until Martin should sail on his first voyage to the East. -Some two years later Martin had the pleasure of restoring the boy to his -own family in Surat. - -Slocum and his confederates were not destined to be hanged after all. It -was discovered one day that they had broken prison, and they were never -captured. Years afterwards, when Martin was a captain in the King’s -Navy, he was accosted one day in Portsmouth by a wretched-looking -beggar, who suddenly stopped in the midst of his whining plea for help -and slunk off rapidly round the first corner. - -“I could swear that was Slocum,” Martin said to himself. “I suppose he -recognised me and was afraid I should give him up to justice. How it all -comes back to me—that night of the Fire!” - - THE END - - - - - TRANSCRIBER NOTES - - -Mis-spelled words and printer errors have been corrected or -standardised. - -Inconsistency in accents has been corrected or standardised. - -Illustrations have been relocated due to using a non-page layout. - - - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARTIN OF OLD LONDON *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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