THE LAIRD'S LUCKAND OTHER FIRESIDE TALES

BYA. T. QUILLER-COUCH(Q)

CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONSNEW YORK 1901

THE LAIRD'S LUCK

[_In a General Order issued from the Horse-Guards on New Year's Day, 1836, His Majesty, King William IV. , was pleased to direct, throughthe Commander-in-Chief, Lord Hill, that "with the view of doing thefullest justice to Regiments, as well as to Individuals who haddistinguished themselves in action against the enemy, " an accountof the services of every Regiment in the British Army should bepublished, under the supervision of the Adjutant General_. 

_With fair promptitude this scheme was put in hand, under theeditorship of Mr. Richard Cannon, Principal Clerk of the AdjutantGeneral's Office. The duty of examining, sifting, and preparing therecords of that distinguished Regiment which I shall here call theMoray Highlanders (concealing its real name for reasons which thenarrative will make apparent) fell to a certain Major ReginaldSparkes; who in the course of his researches came upon a number ofpages in manuscript sealed under one cover and docketed "Memorandaconcerning Ensign D. M. J. Mackenzie. J. R. , Jan. 3rd, 1816"--theinitials being those of Lieut. -Colonel Sir James Ross, who hadcommanded the 2nd Battalion of the Morays through the campaign ofWaterloo. The cover also bore, in the same handwriting, the word"Private, " twice underlined_. 

_Of the occurrences related in the enclosed papers--of the privateones, that is--it so happened that of the four eye-witnesses nonesurvived at the date of Major Sparkes' discovery. They had, moreover, so carefully taken their secret with them that the Regiment preservednot a rumour of it. Major Sparkes' own commission was considerablymore recent than the Waterloo year, and he at least had heard nowhisper of the story. It lay outside the purpose of his inquiry, andhe judiciously omitted it from his report. But the time is past whenits publication might conceivably have been injurious; and withsome alterations in the names--to carry out the disguise of theRegiment--it is here given. The reader will understand that I use the_IPSISSIMA VERBA _of Colonel Ross_. --Q. ]

THE LAIRD'S LUCK

I

I had the honour of commanding my Regiment, the Moray Highlanders, on the 16th of June, 1815, when the late Ensign David Marie JosephMackenzie met his end in the bloody struggle of Quatre Bras (his firstengagement). He fell beside the colours, and I gladly bear witnessthat he had not only borne himself with extreme gallantry, butmaintained, under circumstances of severest trial, a coolness whichmight well have rewarded me for my help in procuring the lad'scommission. And yet at the moment I could scarcely regret his death, for he went into action under a suspicion so dishonouring that, hadit been proved, no amount of gallantry could have restored him to therespect of his fellows. So at least I believed, with three of hisbrother officers who shared the secret. These were Major William Ross(my half-brother), Captain Malcolm Murray, and Mr. Ronald BraintreeUrquhart, then our senior ensign. Of these, Mr. Urquhart fell two dayslater, at Waterloo, while steadying his men to face that heroic shockin which Pack's skeleton regiments were enveloped yet not overwhelmedby four brigades of the French infantry. From the others I received atthe time a promise that the accusation against young Mackenzie shouldbe wiped off the slate by his death, and the affair kept secretbetween us. Since then, however, there has come to me an explanationwhich--though hard indeed to credit--may, if true, exculpate the lad. I laid it before the others, and they agreed that if, in spite ofprecautions, the affair should ever come to light, the explanationought also in justice to be forthcoming; and hence I am writing thismemorandum. 

It was in the late September of 1814 that I first made acquaintancewith David Mackenzie. A wound received in the battle of Salamanca--ashattered ankle--had sent me home invalided, and on my partialrecovery I was appointed to command the 2nd Battalion of my Regiment, then being formed at Inverness. To this duty I was equal; but my anklestill gave trouble (the splinters from time to time working throughthe flesh), and in the late summer of 1814 I obtained leave of absencewith my step-brother, and spent some pleasant weeks in cruising andfishing about the Moray Firth. Finding that my leg bettered by thisidleness, we hired a smaller boat and embarked on a longer excursion, which took us almost to the south-west end of Loch Ness. 

Here, on September 18th, and pretty late in the afternoon, we wereovertaken by a sudden squall, which carried away our mast (we foundafterwards that it had rotted in the step), and put us for someminutes in no little danger; for my brother and I, being inexpertseamen, did not cut the tangle away, as we should have done, but madea bungling attempt to get the mast on board, with the rigging anddrenched sail; and thereby managed to knock a hole in the side ofthe boat, which at once began to take in water. This compelled us todesist and fall to baling with might and main, leaving the raffle andjagged end of the mast to bump against us at the will of the waves. In short, we were in a highly unpleasant predicament, when a coble orrow-boat, carrying one small lug-sail, hove out of the dusk to ourassistance. It was manned by a crew of three, of whom the master(though we had scarce light enough to distinguish features) hailed usin a voice which was patently a gentleman's. He rounded up, loweredsail, and ran his boat alongside; and while his two hands were cuttingus free of our tangle, inquired very civilly if we were strangers. Weanswered that we were, and desired him to tell us of the nearest placealongshore where we might land and find a lodging for the night, aswell as a carpenter to repair our damage. 

"In any ordinary case, " said he, "I should ask you to come aboard andhome with me. But my house lies five miles up the lake; your boat issinking, and the first thing is to beach her. It happens that you arebut half a mile from Ardlaugh and a decent carpenter who can answerall requirements. I think, if I stand by you, the thing can be done;and afterwards we will talk of supper. "

By diligent baling we were able, under his direction, to bring ourboat to a shingly beach, over which a light shone warm in a cottagewindow. Our hail was quickly answered by a second light. A lanternissued from the building, and we heard the sound of footsteps. 

"Is that you, Donald?" cried our rescuer (as I may be permitted tocall him). 

Before an answer could be returned, we saw that two men wereapproaching; of whom the one bearing the lantern was a grizzled oldcarlin with bent knees and a stoop of the shoulders. His companioncarried himself with a lighter step. It was he who advanced to saluteus, the old man holding the light obediently; and the rays revealed tous a slight, up-standing youth, poorly dressed, but handsome, and witha touch of pride in his bearing. 

"Good evening, gentlemen. " He lifted his bonnet politely, and turnedto our rescuer. "Good evening, Mr. Gillespie, " he said--I thought morecoldly. "Can I be of any service to your friends?"

Mr. Gillespie's manner had changed suddenly at sight of the young man, whose salutation he acknowledged more coldly and even more curtlythan it had been given. "I can scarcely claim them as my friends, " heanswered. "They are two gentlemen, strangers in these parts, who havemet with an accident to their boat: one so serious that I brought themto the nearest landing, which happened to be Donald's. " He shortlyexplained our mishap, while the young man took the lantern in hand andinspected the damage with Donald. 

"There is nothing, " he announced, "which cannot be set right in acouple of hours; but we must wait till morning. Meanwhile if, as Igather, you have no claim on these gentlemen, I shall beg them to bemy guests for the night. "

We glanced at Mr. Gillespie, whose manners seemed to have desertedhim. He shrugged his shoulders. "Your house is the nearer, " said he, "and the sooner they reach a warm fire the better for them after theirdrenching. " And with that he lifted his cap to us, turned abruptly, and pushed off his own boat, scarcely regarding our thanks. 

A somewhat awkward pause followed as we stood on the beach, listeningto the creak of the thole-pins in the departing boat. After a minuteour new acquaintance turned to us with a slightly constrained laugh. 

"Mr. Gillespie omitted some of the formalities, " said he. "My name isMackenzie--David Mackenzie; and I live at Ardlaugh Castle, scarcelyhalf a mile up the glen behind us. I warn you that its hospitality isrude, but to what it affords you are heartily welcome. "

He spoke with a high, precise courtliness which contrasted oddly withhis boyish face (I guessed his age at nineteen or twenty), and stillmore oddly with his clothes, which were threadbare and patched inmany places, yet with a deftness which told of a woman's care. Weintroduced ourselves by name, and thanked him, with some expressionsof regret at inconveniencing (as I put it, at hazard) the family atthe Castle. 

"Oh!" he interrupted, "I am sole master there. I have no parentsliving, no family, and, " he added, with a slight sullenness which Iafterwards recognised as habitual, "I may almost say, no friends:though to be sure, you are lucky enough to have one fellow-guestto-night--the minister of the parish, a Mr. Saul, and a very worthyman. "

He broke off to give Donald some instructions about the boat, watchedus while we found our plaids and soaked valises, and then took thelantern from the old man's hand. "I ought to have explained, " saidhe, "that we have neither cart here nor carriage: indeed, there is nocarriage-road. But Donald has a pony. "

He led the way a few steps up the beach, and then halted, perceivingmy lameness for the first time. "Donald, fetch out the pony. Can youride bareback?" he asked: "I fear there's no saddle but an old pieceof sacking. " In spite of my protestations the pony was led forth; astarved little beast, on whose over-sharp ridge I must have cut asufficiently ludicrous figure when hoisted into place with the valisesslung behind me. 

The procession set out, and I soon began to feel thankful for my seat, though I took no ease in it. For the road climbed steeply from thecottage, and at once began to twist up the bottom of a ravine sonarrow that we lost all help of the young moon. The path, indeed, resembled the bed of a torrent, shrunk now to a trickle of water, thevoice of which ran in my ears while our host led the way, springingfrom boulder to boulder, avoiding pools, and pausing now and then tohold his lantern over some slippery place. The pony followed withadmirable caution, and my brother trudged in the rear and took his cuefrom us. After five minutes of this the ground grew easier and at thesame time steeper, and I guessed that we were slanting up the hillsideand away from the torrent at an acute angle. The many twists andangles, and the utter darkness (for we were now moving between trees)had completely baffled my reckoning when--at the end of twentyminutes, perhaps--Mr. Mackenzie halted and allowed me to come up withhim. 

I was about to ask the reason of this halt when a ray of his lanternfell on a wall of masonry; and with a start almost laughable I knewwe had arrived. To come to an entirely strange house at night is anexperience which holds some taste of mystery even for the oldestcampaigner; but I have never in my life received such a shock as thisbuilding gave me--naked, unlit, presented to me out of a darknessin which I had imagined a steep mountain scaur dotted with dwarfedtrees--a sudden abomination of desolation standing, like theprophet's, where it ought not. No light showed on the side where westood--the side over the ravine; only one pointed turret stood outagainst the faint moonlight glow in the upper sky: but feeling our wayaround the gaunt side of the building, we came to a back court-yardand two windows lit. Our host whistled, and helped me to dismount. 

In an angle of the court a creaking door opened. A woman's voicecried, "That will be be you, Ardlaugh, and none too early! Theminister--"

She broke off, catching sight of us. Our host stepped hastily to thedoor and began a whispered conversation. We could hear that shewas protesting, and began to feel awkward enough. But whatever herobjections were, her master cut them short. 

"Come in, sirs, " he invited us: "I warned you that the fare would behard, but I repeat that you are welcome. "

To our surprise and, I must own, our amusement, the woman caught uphis words with new protestations, uttered this time at the top of hervoice. 

"The fare hard? Well, it might not please folks accustomed to cityfeasts; but Ardlaugh was not yet without a joint of venison in thelarder and a bottle of wine, maybe two, maybe three, for any guest itsmaster chose to make welcome. It was 'an ill bird that 'filed his ownnest'"--with more to this effect, which our host tried in vain tointerrupt. 

"Then I will lead you to your rooms, " he said, turning to us as soonas she paused to draw breath. 

"Indeed, Ardlaugh, you will do nothing of the kind. " She ran into thekitchen, and returned holding high a lighted torch--a grey-hairedwoman with traces of past comeliness, overlaid now by an air of worry, almost of fear. But her manner showed only a defiant pride as she ledus up the uncarpeted stairs, past old portraits sagging and rotting intheir frames, through bleak corridors, where the windows were patchedand the plastered walls discoloured by fungus. Once only she halted. "It will be a long way to your appartments. A grand house!" She hadfaced round on us, and her eyes seemed to ask a question of ours. "Ihave known it filled, " she added--"filled with guests, and thedrink and fiddles never stopping for a week. You will see it betterto-morrow. A grand house!"

I will confess that, as I limped after this barbaric woman and hertorch, I felt some reasonable apprehensions of the bedchamber towardswhich they were escorting me. But here came another surprise. The roomwas of moderate size, poorly furnished, indeed, but comfortable andsomething more. It bore traces of many petty attentions, even--in itswhite dimity curtains and valances--of an attempt at daintiness. Thesight of it brought quite a pleasant shock after the dirt and disarrayof the corridor. Nor was the room assigned to my brother one whit lesshabitable. But if surprised by all this, I was fairly astoundedto find in each room a pair of candles lit--and quite recentlylit--beside the looking-glass, and an ewer of hot water standing, witha clean towel upon it, in each wash-hand basin. No sooner had thewoman departed than I visited my brother and begged him (while heunstrapped his valise) to explain this apparent miracle. He could onlyguess with me that the woman had been warned of our arrival by thenoise of footsteps in the court-yard, and had dispatched a servant bysome back stairs to make ready for us. 

Our valises were, fortunately, waterproof. We quickly exchanged ourdamp clothes for dry ones, and groped our way together along thecorridors, helped by the moon, which shone through their uncurtainedwindows, to the main staircase. Here we came on a scent of roastingmeat--appetising to us after our day in the open air--and at the footfound our host waiting for us. He had donned his Highland dress ofceremony--velvet jacket, phillabeg and kilt, with the tartan ofhis clan--and looked (I must own) extremely well in it, though thegarments had long since lost their original gloss. An apology for ourrough touring suits led to some few questions and replies about theregimental tartan of the Morays, in the history of which he waspassably well informed. 

Thus chatting, we entered the great hall of Ardlaugh Castle--a tall, but narrow and ill-proportioned apartment, having an open timber roof, a stone-paved floor, and walls sparsely decorated with antlers andround targes--where a very small man stood warming his back atan immense fireplace. This was the Reverend Samuel Saul, whoseacquaintance we had scarce time to make before a cracked gong summonedus to dinner in the adjoining room. 

The young Laird of Ardlaugh took his seat in a roughly carved chairof state at the head of the table; but before doing so treated me toanother surprise by muttering a Latin grace and crossing himself. Upto now I had taken it for granted he was a member of the ScottishKirk. I glanced at the minister in some mystification; but he, goodman, appeared to have fallen into a brown study, with his eyesfastened upon a dish of apples which adorned the centre of ourpromiscuously furnished board. 

Of the furniture of our meal I can only say that poverty and decentappearance kept up a brave fight throughout. The table-cloth wasragged, but spotlessly clean; the silver-ware scanty and worn withhigh polishing. The plates and glasses displayed a noble range ofpatterns, but were for the most part chipped or cracked. Each knifehad been worn to a point, and a few of them joggled in their handles. In a lull of the talk I caught myself idly counting the darns in mytable-napkin. They were--if I remember--fourteen, and all exquisitelystitched. The dinner, on the other hand, would have tempted men farless hungry than we--grilled steaks of salmon, a roast haunch ofvenison, grouse, a milk-pudding, and, for dessert, the dish of applesalready mentioned; the meats washed down with one wine only, but thatwine was claret, and beautifully sound. I should mention that we wereserved by a grey-haired retainer, almost stone deaf, and as hopelesslycracked as the gong with which he had beaten us to dinner. In the longwaits between the courses we heard him quarrelling outside withthe woman who had admitted us; and gradually--I know not how--theconviction grew on me that they were man and wife, and the onlyservants of our host's establishment. To cover the noise of one oftheir altercations I began to congratulate the Laird on the quality ofhis venison, and put some idle question about his care for his deer. 

"I have no deer-forest, " he answered. "Elspeth is my onlyhousekeeper. "

I had some reply on my lips, when my attention was distracted by asudden movement by the Rev. Samuel Saul. This honest man had, as weshook hands in the great hall, broken into a flood of small talk. On our way to the dining-room he took me, so to speak, by thebutton-hole, and within the minute so drenched me with gossip aboutArdlaugh, its climate, its scenery, its crops, and the dimensions ofthe parish, that I feared a whole evening of boredom lay before us. But from the moment we seated ourselves at table he dropped to anabsolute silence. There are men, living much alone, who by habittalk little during their meals; and the minister might be reservinghimself. But I had almost forgotten his presence when I heard a sharpexclamation, and, looking across, saw him take from his lips hiswine-glass of claret and set it down with a shaking hand. The Laird, too, had heard, and bent a darkly questioning glance on him. At oncethe little man--whose face had turned to a sickly white--began tostammer and excuse himself. 

"It was nothing--a spasm. He would be better of it in a moment. No, hewould take no wine: a glass of water would set him right--he was moreused to drinking water, " he explained, with a small, nervous laugh. 

Perceiving that our solicitude embarrassed him, we resumed our talk, which now turned upon the last peninsular campaign and certainengagements in which the Morays had borne part; upon the stability ofthe French Monarchy, and the career (as we believed, at an end) ofNapoleon. On all these topics the Laird showed himself well informed, and while preferring the part of listener (as became his youth) fromtime to time put in a question which convinced me of his intelligence, especially in military affairs. 

The minister, though silent as before, had regained his colour; and wewere somewhat astonished when, the cloth being drawn and the companyleft to its wine and one dish of dessert, he rose and announced thathe must be going. He was decidedly better, but (so he excused himself)would feel easier at home in his own manse; and so, declining ourhost's offer of a bed, he shook hands and bade us good-night. TheLaird accompanied him to the door, and in his absence I fell topeeling an apple, while my brother drummed with his fingers on thetable and eyed the faded hangings. I suppose that ten minutes elapsedbefore we heard the young man's footsteps returning through theflagged hall and a woman's voice uplifted. 

"But had the minister any complaint, whatever--to ride off without aword? She could answer for the collops--"

"Whist, woman! Have done with your clashin', ye doited old fool!" Heslammed the door upon her, stepped to the table, and with a sullenfrown poured himself a glass of wine. His brow cleared as he drank it. "I beg your pardon, gentlemen; but this indisposition of Mr. Saul hasannoyed me. He lives at the far end of the parish--a good seven milesaway--and I had invited him expressly to talk of parish affairs. "

"I believe, " said I, "you and he are not of the same religion?"

"Eh?" He seemed to be wondering how I had guessed. "No, I was bred aCatholic. In our branch we have always held to the Old Religion. Butthat doesn't prevent my wishing to stand well with my neighbours anddo my duty towards them. What disheartens me is, they won't see it. "He pushed the wine aside, and for a while, leaning his elbows on thetable and resting his chin on his knuckles, stared gloomily beforehim. Then, with sudden boyish indignation, he burst out: "It's aninfernal shame; that's it--an infernal shame! I haven't been home herea twelvemonth, and the people avoid me like a plague. What have Idone? My father wasn't popular--in fact, they hated him. But so did I. And he hated me, God knows: misused my mother, and wouldn't endure mein his presence. All my miserable youth I've been mewed up in a schoolin England--a private seminary. Ugh? what a den it was, too! My motherdied calling for me--I was not allowed to come: I hadn't seen her forthree years. And now, when the old tyrant is dead, and I come homemeaning--so help me!--to straighten things out and make friends--comehome, to the poverty you pretend not to notice, though it stares youin the face from every wall--come home, only asking to make the bestof of it, live on good terms with my fellows, and be happy for thefirst time in my life--damn them, they won't fling me a kind look!What have I _done_?--that's what I want to know. The queer thing is, they behaved more decently at first. There's that Gillespie, whobrought you ashore: he came over the first week, offered me shooting, was altogether as pleasant as could be. I quite took to the fellow. Now, when we meet, he looks the other way! If he has anything againstme, he might at least explain: it's all I ask. What have I done?"

Throughout this outburst I sat slicing my apple and taking now andthen a glance at the speaker. It was all so hotly and honestly boyish!He only wanted justice. I know something of youngsters, and recognisedthe cry. Justice! It's the one thing every boy claims confidently ashis right, and probably the last thing on earth he will ever get. And this boy looked so handsome, too, sitting in his father's chair, petulant, restive under a weight too heavy (as anyone could see) forhis age. I couldn't help liking him. 

My brother told me afterwards that I pounced like anyrecruiting-sergeant. This I do not believe. But what, after a longpause, I said was this: "If you are innocent or unconscious ofoffending, you can only wait for your neighbours to explainthemselves. Meanwhile, why not leave them? Why not travel, forinstance?"

"Travel!" he echoed, as much as to say, "You ought to know, without mytelling, that I cannot afford it. "

"Travel, " I repeated; "see the world, rub against men of your age. Youmight by the way do some fighting. "

He opened his eyes wide. I saw the sudden idea take hold of him, andagain I liked what I saw. 

"If I thought--" He broke off. "You don't mean--" he began, and brokeoff again. 

"I mean the Morays, " I said. "There may be difficulties; but at thismoment I cannot see any real ones. "

By this time he was gripping the arms of his chair. "If I thought--"he harked back, and for the third time broke off. "What a fool I am!It's the last thing they ever put in a boy's head at that infernalschool. If you will believe it, they wanted to make a priest of me!"

He sprang up, pushing back his chair. We carried our wine into thegreat hall, and sat there talking the question over before the fire. Before we parted for the night I had engaged to use all my interest toget him a commission in the Morays; and I left him pacing the hall, his mind in a whirl, but his heart (as was plain to see) exulting inhis new prospects. 

And certainly, when I came to inspect the castle by the next morning'slight, I could understand his longing to leave it. A gloomier, morepretentious, or worse-devised structure I never set eyes on. TheMackenzie who erected it may well have been (as the saying is) his ownarchitect, and had either come to the end of his purse or left hisheirs to decide against planting gardens, laying out approaches oreven maintaining the pile in decent repair. In place of a drive agrassy cart-track, scored deep with old ruts, led through a gatelessentrance into a courtyard where the slates had dropped from the roofand lay strewn like autumn leaves. On this road I encountered theyoung Laird returning from an early tramp with his gun; and he stoodstill and pointed to the castle with a grimace. 

"A white elephant, " said I. 

"Call it rather the corpse of one, " he answered. "Cannot you imaginesome _genie_ of the Oriental Tales dragging the beast across Europeand dumping it down here in a sudden fit of disgust? As a matter offact my grandfather built it, and cursed us with poverty thereby. Itsoured my father's life. I believe the only soul honestly proud of itis Elspeth. "

"And I suppose, " said I, "you will leave her in charge of it when youjoin the Morays?"

"Ah!" he broke in, with a voice which betrayed his relief: "you arein earnest about that? Yes Elspeth will look after the castle, as shedoes already. I am just a child in her hand. When a man has one onlyservant it's well to have her devoted. " Seeing my look of surprise, headded, "I don't count old Duncan, her husband; for he's half-witted, and only serves to break the plates. Does it surprise you to learnthat, barring him, Elspeth is my only retainer?"

"H'm, " said I, considerably puzzled--I must explain why. 

 * * * * *

I am by training an extraordinarily light sleeper; yet nothing haddisturbed me during the night until at dawn my brother knocked at thedoor and entered, ready dressed. 

"Hullo!" he exclaimed, "are you responsible for this?" and he pointedto a chair at the foot of the bed where lay, folded in a neat pile, not only the clothes I had tossed down carelessly overnight, but thesuit in which I had arrived. He picked up this latter, felt it, andhanded it to me. It was dry, and had been carefully brushed. 

"Our friend keeps a good valet, " said I; "but the queer thing is that, in a strange room, I didn't wake. I see he has brought hot water too. "

"Look here, " my brother asked: "did you lock your door?"

"Why, of course not--the more by token that it hasn't a key. "

"Well, " said he, "mine has, and I'll swear I used it; but the samething has happened to me!"

This, I tried to persuade him, was impossible; and for the while heseemed convinced. "It _must_ be, " he owned; "but if I didn't lock thatdoor I'll never swear to a thing again in all my life. "

 * * * * *

The young Laird's remark set me thinking of this, and I answered aftera pause, "In one of the pair, then, you possess a remarkably clevervalet. "

It so happened that, while I said it, my eyes rested, without theleast intention, on the sleeve of his shooting-coat; and the wordswere scarcely out before he flushed hotly and made a motion as if tohide a neatly mended rent in its cuff. In another moment he would haveretorted, and was indeed drawing himself up in anger, when I preventedhim by adding--

"I mean that I am indebted to him or to her this morning for a neatlybrushed suit; and I suppose to your freeness in plying me with winelast night that it arrived in my room without waking me. But for thatI could almost set it down to the supernatural. "

I said this in all simplicity, and was quite unprepared for its effectupon him, or for his extraordinary reply. He turned as white inthe face as, a moment before, he had been red. "Good God!" he saideagerly, "you haven't missed anything, have you?"

"Certainly not, " I assured him. "My dear sir--"

"I know, I know. But you see, " he stammered, "I am new to theseservants. I know them to be faithful, and that's all. Forgive me; Ifeared from your tone one of them--Duncan perhaps . .. "

He did not finish his sentence, but broke into a hurried walk and ledme towards the house. A minute later, as we approached it, he beganto discourse half-humorously on its more glaring features, and hadapparently forgotten his perturbation. 

I too attached small importance to it, and recall it now merelythrough unwillingness to omit any circumstance which may throw lighton a story sufficiently dark to me. After breakfast our host walkeddown with us to the loch-side, where we found old Donald putting thelast touches on his job. With thanks for our entertainment we shookhands and pushed off: and my last word at parting was a promise toremember his ambition and write any news of my success. 

II

I anticipated no difficulty, and encountered none. The _Gazette_ ofJanuary, 1815, announced that David Marie Joseph Mackenzie, gentleman, had been appointed to an ensigncy in the --th Regiment of Infantry(Moray Highlanders); and I timed my letter of congratulation to reachhim with the news. Within a week he had joined us at Inverness, andwas made welcome. 

I may say at once that during his brief period of service I could findno possible fault with his bearing as a soldier. From the first hetook seriously to the calling of arms, and not only showed himselfpunctual on parade and in all the small duties of barracks, butdisplayed, in his reserved way, a zealous resolve to master whateverby book or conversation could be learned of the higher business ofwar. My junior officers--though when the test came, as it soon did, they acquitted themselves most creditably--showed, as a whole, justthen no great promise. For the most part they were young lairds, likeMr. Mackenzie, or cadets of good Highland families; but, unlike him, they had been allowed to run wild, and chafed under harness. One ortwo of them had the true Highland addiction to card-playing; andthough I set a pretty stern face against this curse--as I dare to callit--its effects were to be traced in late hours, more than one case ofshirking "rounds, " and a general slovenliness at morning parade. 

In such company Mr. Mackenzie showed to advantage, and I soon began tovalue him as a likely officer. Nor, in my dissatisfaction with them, did it give me any uneasiness--as it gave me no surprise--to findthat his brother-officers took less kindly to him. He kept a certainreticence of manner, which either came of a natural shyness or hadbeen ingrained in him at the Roman Catholic seminary. He was poor, too; but poverty did not prevent his joining in all the regimentalamusements, figuring modestly but sufficiently on the subscriptionlists, and even taking a hand at cards for moderate stakes. Yet hemade no headway, and his popularity diminished instead of growing. All this I noted, but without discovering any definite reason. Of hisprofessional promise, on the other hand, there could be no question;and the men liked and respected him. 

Our senior ensign at this date was a Mr. Urquhart, the eldest son of aWest Highland laird, and heir to a considerable estate. He had beenin barracks when Mr. Mackenzie joined; but a week later his father'ssudden illness called for his presence at home, and I granted him aleave of absence, which was afterwards extended. I regretted this, notonly for the sad occasion, but because it deprived the battalion for atime of one of its steadiest officers, and Mr. Mackenzie in particularof the chance to form a very useful friendship. For the two young menhad (I thought) several qualities which might well attract them eachto the other, and a common gravity of mind in contrast with theircompanions' prevalent and somewhat tiresome frivolity. Of the two IJudged Mr. Urquhart (the elder by a year) to have the more stablecharacter. He was a good-looking, dark-complexioned young Highlander, with a serious expression which, without being gloomy, did notescape a touch of melancholy. I should judge this melancholy of Mr. Urquhart's constitutional, and the boyish sullenness which lingered onMr. Mackenzie's equally handsome face to have been imposed rather bycircumstances. 

Mr. Urquhart rejoined us on the 24th of February. Two days later, asall the world knows, Napoleon made his escape from Elba; and the nextweek or two made it certain not only that the allies must fight, butthat the British contingent must be drawn largely, if not in the main, from the second battalions then drilling up and down the country. The29th of March brought us our marching orders; and I will own that, while feeling no uneasiness about the great issue, I distrusted theshare my raw youngsters were to take in it. 

On the 12th of April we were landed at Ostend, and at once marched upto Brussels, where we remained until the middle of June, having beenassigned to the 5th (Picton's) Division of the Reserve. For somereason the Highland regiments had been massed into the Reserve, andwere billeted about the capital, our own quarters lying between the92nd (Gordons) and General Kruse's Nassauers, whose lodgings stretchedout along the Louvain road; and although I could have wished someharder and more responsible service to get the Morays into training, Ifelt what advantage they derived from rubbing shoulders with the finefellows of the 42nd, 79th, and 92nd, all First Battalions toughenedby Peninsular work. The gaieties of life in Brussels during these twomonths have been described often enough; but among the military theywere chiefly confined to those officers whose means allowed them tokeep the pace set by rich civilians, and the Morays played the part ofamused spectators. Yet the work and the few gaieties which fell to ourshare, while adding to our experiences, broke up to some degree theold domestic habits of the battalion. Excepting on duty I saw less ofMr. Mackenzie and thought less about him; he might be left now to beshaped by active service. But I was glad to find him often in companywith Mr. Urquhart. 

I come now to the memorable night of June 15th, concerning which andthe end it brought upon the festivities of Brussels so much has beenwritten. All the world has heard of the Duchess of Richmond's ball, and seems to conspire in decking it out with pretty romantic fables. To contradict the most of these were waste of time; but I may pointout (1) that the ball was over and, I believe, all the companydispersed, before the actual alarm awoke the capital; and (2) that allresponsible officers gathered there shared the knowledge that suchan alarm was impending, might arrive at any moment, and would almostcertainly arrive within a few hours. News of the French advance acrossthe frontier and attack on General Zieten's outposts had reachedWellington at three o'clock that afternoon. It should have beenbrought five hours earlier; but he gave his orders at once, andquietly, and already our troops were massing for defence uponNivelles. We of the Reserve had secret orders to hold ourselvesprepared. Obedient to a hint from their Commander-in-chief, thegenerals of division and brigade who attended the Duchess' ballwithdrew themselves early on various pleas. Her Grace had honouredme with an invitation, probably because I represented a Highlandregiment; and Highlanders (especially the Gordons, her brother'sregiment) were much to the fore that night with reels, flings, andstrathspeys. The many withdrawals warned me that something was in thewind, and after remaining just so long as seemed respectful, I tookleave of my hostess and walked homewards across the city as the clockswere striking eleven. 

We of the Morays had our headquarters in a fairly large building--theHôtel de Liège--in time of peace a resort of _commis-voyageurs_ ofthe better class. It boasted a roomy hall, out of which opened twocoffee-rooms, converted by us into guard- and mess-room. A largedrawing-room on the first floor overlooking the street served me forsleeping as well as working quarters, and to reach it I must pass the_entresol_, where a small apartment had been set aside for occasionaluses. We made it, for instance, our ante-room, and assembled therebefore mess; a few would retire there for smoking or card-playing;during the day it served as a waiting-room for messengers or any onewhose business could not be for the moment attended to. 

I had paused at the entrance to put some small question to the sentry, when I heard the crash of a chair in this room, and two voices brokeout in fierce altercation. An instant after, the mess-room dooropened, and Captain Murray, without observing me, ran past me andup the stairs. As he reached the _entresol_, a voice--mybrother's--called down from an upper landing, and demanded, "What'swrong there?"

"I don't know, Major, " Captain Murray answered, and at the same momentflung the door open. I was quick on his heels, and he wheeled round insome surprise at my voice, and to see me interposed between him andmy brother, who had come running downstairs, and now stood behind myshoulder in the entrance. 

"Shut the door, " I commanded quickly. "Shut the door, and send awayany one you may hear outside. Now, gentlemen, explain yourselves, please. "

Mr. Urquhart and Mr. Mackenzie faced each other across a small table, from which the cloth had been dragged and lay on the floor with ascattered pack of cards. The elder lad held a couple of cards in hishand; he was white in the face. 

"He cheated!" He swung round upon me in a kind of indignant fury, andtapped the cards with his forefinger. 

I looked from him to the accused. Mackenzie's face was dark, almostpurple, rather with rage (as it struck me) than with shame. 

"It's a lie. " He let out the words slowly, as if holding rein on hispassion. "Twice he's said so, and twice I've called him a liar. " Hedrew back for an instant, and then lost control of himself. "If that'snot enough--. " He leapt forward, and almost before Captain Murraycould interpose had hurled himself upon Urquhart. The table betweenthem went down with a crash, and Urquhart went staggering back from ablow which just missed his face and took him on the collar-bone beforeMurray threw both arms around the assailant. 

"Mr. Mackenzie, " said I, "you will consider yourself under arrest. Mr. Urquhart, you will hold yourself ready to give me a full explanation. Whichever of you may be in the right, this is a disgraceful business, and dishonouring to your regiment and the cloth you wear: sodisgraceful, that I hesitate to call up the guard and expose it tomore eyes than ours. If Mr. Mackenzie"--I turned to him again--"canbehave himself like a gentleman, and accept the fact of his arrestwithout further trouble, the scandal can at least be postponed untilI discover how much it is necessary to face. For the moment, sir, youare in charge of Captain Murray. Do you understand?"

He bent his head sullenly. "He shall fight me, whatever happens, " hemuttered. 

I found it wise to pay no heed to this. "It will be best, " I said toMurray, "to remain here with Mr. Mackenzie until I am ready for him. Mr. Urquhart may retire to his quarters, if he will--I advise it, indeed--but I shall require his attendance in a few minutes. Youunderstand, " I added significantly, "that for the present this affairremains strictly between ourselves. " I knew well enough that, for allthe King's regulations, a meeting would inevitably follow sooner orlater, and will own I looked upon it as the proper outcome, betweengentlemen, of such a quarrel. But it was not for me, their Colonel, tobetray this knowledge or my feelings, and by imposing secrecy I putoff for the time all the business of a formal challenge with seconds. So I left them, and requesting my brother to follow me, mounted to myown room. The door was no sooner shut than I turned on him. 

"Surely, " I said, "this is a bad mistake of Urquhart's? It's anincredible charge. From all I've seen of him, the lad would never beguilty . .. " I paused, expecting his assent. To my surprise he did notgive it, but stood fingering his chin and looking serious. 

"I don't know, " he answered unwillingly. "There are stories againsthim. "

"What stories?"

"Nothing definite. " My brother hesitated. "It doesn't seem fair to himto repeat mere whispers. But the others don't like him. "

"Hence the whispers, perhaps. They have not reached me. "

"They would not. He is known to be a favourite of yours. But theydon't care to play with him. " My brother stopped, met my look, andanswered it with a shrug of the shoulders, adding, "He wins prettyconstantly. "

"Any definite charge before to-night's?"

"No: at least, I think not. But Urquhart may have been put up towatch. "

"Fetch him up, please, " said I promptly; and seating myself at thewriting-table I lit candles (for the lamp was dim), made ready thewriting materials and prepared to take notes of the evidence. 

Mr. Urquhart presently entered, and I wheeled round in my chair toconfront him. He was still exceedingly pale--paler, I thought, than Ihad left him. He seemed decidedly ill at ease, though not on his ownaccount. His answer to my first question made me fairly leap in mychair. 

"I wish, " he said, "to qualify my accusation of Mr. Mackenzie. That hecheated I have the evidence of my own eyes; but I am not sure how farhe knew he was cheating. "

"Good heavens, sir!" I cried. "Do you know you have accused that youngman of a villainy which must damn him for life? And now you tell me--"I broke off in sheer indignation. 

"I know, " he answered quietly. "The noise fetched you in upon us onthe instant, and the mischief was done. "

"Indeed, sir, " I could not avoid sneering, "to most of us it wouldseem that the mischief was done when you accused a brother-officer offraud to his face. "

He seemed to reflect. "Yes, sir, " he assented slowly; "it is done. Isaw him cheat: that I must persist in; but I cannot say how far he wasconscious of it. And since I cannot, I must take the consequences. "

"Will you kindly inform us how it is possible for a player to cheatand not know that he is cheating?"

He bent his eyes on the carpet as if seeking an answer. It was long incoming. "No, " he said at last, in a slow, dragging tone, "I cannot. "

"Then you will at least tell us exactly what Mr. Mackenzie did. "

Again there was a long pause. He looked at me straight, but withhopelessness in his eyes. "I fear you would not believe me. It wouldnot be worth while. If you can grant it, sir, I would ask time todecide. "

"Mr. Urquhart, " said I sternly, "are you aware you have broughtagainst Mr. Mackenzie a charge under which no man of honour canlive easily for a moment? You ask me without a word of evidence insubstantiation to keep him in torture while I give you time. It ismonstrous, and I beg to remind you that, unless your charge is proved, you can--and will--be broken for making it. "

"I know it, sir, " he answered firmly enough; "and because I knew it, Iasked--perhaps selfishly--for time. If you refuse, I will at least askpermission to see a priest before telling a story which I can scarcelyexpect you to believe. " Mr. Urquhart too was a Roman Catholic. 

But my temper for the moment was gone. "I see little chance, " saidI, "of keeping this scandal secret, and regret it the less if theconsequences are to fall on a rash accuser. But just now I will haveno meddling priest share the secret. For the present, one word more. Had you heard before this evening of any hints against Mr. Mackenzie'splay?"

He answered reluctantly, "Yes. "

"And you set yourself to lay a trap for him?"

"No, sir; I did not. Unconsciously I may have been set on the watch:no, that is wrong--I _did_ watch. But I swear it was in every hope andexpectation of clearing him. He was my friend. Even when I saw, I hadat first no intention to expose him until--"

"That is enough, sir, " I broke in, and turned to my brother. "I haveno option but to put Mr. Urquhart too under arrest. Kindly convey himback to his room, and send Captain Murray to me. He may leave Mr. Mackenzie in the _entresol_. "

My brother led Urquhart out, and in a minute Captain Murray tapped atmy door. He was an honest Scot, not too sharp-witted, but straight asa die. I am to show him this description, and he will cheerfully agreewith it. 

"This is a hideous business, Murray, " said I as he entered. "There'ssomething wrong with Urquhart's story. Indeed, between ourselves ithas the fatal weakness that he won't tell it. "

Murray took a minute to digest this, then he answered, "I don't knowanything about Urquhart's story, sir. But there's something wrongabout Urquhart. " Here he hesitated. 

"Speak out, man, " said I: "in confidence. That's understood. "

"Well, sir, " said he, "Urquhart won't fight. "

"Ah! so that question came up, did it?" I asked, looking at himsharply. 

He was not abashed, but answered, with a twinkle in his eye, "Ibelieve, sir, you gave me no orders to stop their talking, and in acase like this--between youngsters--some question of a meeting wouldnaturally come up. You see, I know both the lads. Urquhart I reallylike; but he didn't show up well, I must own--to be fair to the other, who is in the worse fix. "

"I am not so sure of that, " I commented; "but go on. "

He seemed surprised. "Indeed, Colonel? Well, " he resumed, "I being thesort of fellow they could talk before, a meeting was discussed. Thequestion was how to arrange it without seconds--that is, withoutbreaking your orders and dragging in outsiders. For Mackenzie wantedblood at once, and for awhile Urquhart seemed just as eager. All of asudden, when. .. . " here he broke off suddenly, not wishing to commithimself. 

"Tell me only what you think necessary, " said I. 

He thanked me. "That is what I wanted, " he said. "Well, all of asudden, when we had found out a way and Urquhart was discussing it, hepulled himself up in the middle of a sentence, and with his eyes fixedon the other--a most curious look it was--he waited while you couldcount ten, and, 'No, ' says he, 'I'll not fight you at once'--for wehad been arranging something of the sort--'not to-night, anyway, norto-morrow, ' he says. 'I'll fight you; but I won't have your blood onmy head _in that way_. ' Those were his words. I have no notion whathe meant; but he kept repeating them, and would not explain, thoughMackenzie tried him hard and was for shooting across the table. He wasrepeating them when the Major interrupted us and called him up. "

"He has behaved ill from the first, " said I. "To me the whole affairbegins to look like an abominable plot against Mackenzie. Certainly Icannot entertain a suspicion of his guilt upon a bare assertion whichUrquhart declines to back with a tittle of evidence. "

"The devil he does!" mused Captain Murray. "That looks bad for him. And yet, sir, I'd sooner trust Urquhart than Mackenzie, and if thecase lies against Urquhart--"

"It will assuredly break him, " I put in, "unless he can prove thecharge, or that he was honestly mistaken. "

"Then, sir, " said the Captain, "I'll have to show you this. It's ugly, but it's only justice. "

He pulled a sovereign from his pocket and pushed it on thewriting-table under my nose. 

"What does this mean?"

"It is a marked one, " said he. 

"So I perceive. " I had picked up the coin and was examining it. 

"I found it just now, " he continued, "in the room below. The upsettingof the table had scattered Mackenzie's stakes about the floor. "

"You seem to have a pretty notion of evidence, " I observed sharply. "I don't know what accusation this coin may carry; but why need it beMackenzie's? He might have won it from Urquhart. "

"I thought of that, " was the answer. "But no money had changed hands. I enquired. The quarrel arose over the second deal, and as a matter offact Urquhart had laid no money on the table, but made a pencil-noteof a few shillings he lost by the first hand. You may remember, sir, how the table stood when you entered. "

I reflected. "Yes, my recollection bears you out. Do I gather that youhave confronted Mackenzie with this?"

"No. I found it and slipped it quietly into my pocket. I thought wehad trouble enough on hand for the moment. "

"Who marked this coin?"

"Young Fraser, sir, in my presence. He has been losing small sums, hedeclares, by pilfering. We suspected one of the orderlies. "

"In this connection you had no suspicion of Mr. Mackenzie?"

"None, sr. " He considered for a moment, and added: "There was acurious thing happened three weeks ago over my watch. It found itsway one night to Mr. Mackenzie's quarters. He brought it to me in themorning; said it was lying, when he awoke, on the table beside hisbed. He seemed utterly puzzled. He had been to one or two already todiscover the owner. We joked him about it, the more by token that hisown watch had broken down the day before and was away at the mender's. The whole thing was queer, and has not been explained. Of course inthat instance he was innocent: everything proves it. It just occurredto me as worth mentioning, because in both instances the lad may havebeen the victim of a trick. "

"I am glad you did so, " I said; "though just now it does not throw anylight that I can see. " I rose and paced the room. "Mr. Mackenzie hadbetter be confronted with this, too, and hear your evidence. It's besthe should know the worst against him; and if he be guilty it may movehim to confession. "

"Certainly, sir, " Captain Murray assented. "Shall I fetch him?"

"No, remain where you are, " I said; "I will go for him myself. "

I understood that Mr. Urquhart had retired to his own quarters or tomy brother's, and that Mr. Mackenzie had been left in the _entresol_alone. But as I descended the stairs quietly I heard within that rooma voice which at first persuaded me he had company, and next that, left to himself, he had broken down and given way to the most childishwailing. The voice was so unlike his, or any grown man's, that itarrested me on the lowermost stair against my will. It resembledrather the sobbing of an infant mingled with short strangled cries ofcontrition and despair. 

"What shall I do? What shall I do? I didn't mean it--I meant to dogood! What shall I do?"

So much I heard (as I say) against my will, before my astonishmentgave room to a sense of shame at playing, even for a moment, theeavesdropper upon the lad I was to judge. I stepped quickly to thedoor, and with a warning rattle (to give him time to recover himself)turned the handle and entered. 

He was alone, lying back in an easy chair--not writhing there inanguish of mind, as I had fully expected, but sunk rather in a stateof dull and hopeless apathy. To reconcile his attitude with the soundsI had just heard was merely impossible; and it bewildered me worsethan any in the long chain of bewildering incidents. For five secondsor so he appeared not to see me; but when he grew aware his lookchanged suddenly to one of utter terror, and his eyes, shifting fromme, shot a glance about the room as if he expected some new accusationto dart at him from the corners. His indignation and passionatedefiance were gone: his eyes seemed to ask me, "How much do you know?"before he dropped them and stood before me, sullenly submissive. 

"I want you upstairs, " said I: "not to hear your defence on thischarge, for Mr. Urquhart has not yet specified it. But there isanother matter. "

"Another?" he echoed dully, and, I observed, without surprise. 

I led the way back to the room where Captain Murray waited. "Can youtell me anything about this?" I asked, pointing to the sovereign onthe writing-table. 

He shook his head, clearly puzzled, but anticipating mischief. 

"The coin is marked, you see. I have reason to know that it was markedby its owner in order to detect a thief. Captain Murray found it justnow among your stakes. "

Somehow--for I liked the lad--I had not the heart to watch his face asI delivered this. I kept my eyes upon the coin, and waited, expectingan explosion--a furious denial, or at least a cry that he was thevictim of a conspiracy. None came. I heard him breathing hard. Aftera long and very dreadful pause some words broke from him, so lowlyuttered that my ears only just caught them. 

"This too? O my God!"

I seated myself, the lad before me, and Captain Murray erect and rigidat the end of the table. "Listen, my lad, " said I. "This wears an uglylook, but that a stolen coin has been found in your possession doesnot prove that you've stolen it. "

"I did not. Sir, I swear to you on my honour, and before Heaven, thatI did not. "

"Very well, " said I: "Captain Murray asserts that he found thisamong the moneys you had been staking at cards. Do you question thatassertion?"

He answered almost without pondering. "No, sir. Captain Murray is agentleman, and incapable of falsehood. If he says so, it was so. "

"Very well again. Now, can you explain how this coin came into yourpossession?"

At this he seemed to hesitate; but answered at length, "No, I cannotexplain. "

"Have you any idea? Or can you form any guess?"

Again there was a long pause before the answer came in low andstrained tones: "I can guess. "

"What is your guess?"

He lifted a hand and dropped it hopelessly. "You would not believe, "he said. 

I will own a suspicion flashed across my mind on hearing thesewords--the very excuse given a while ago by Mr. Urquhart--that thewhole affair was a hoax and the two young men were in conspiracy tofool me. I dismissed it at once: the sight of Mr. Mackenzie's face, was convincing. But my temper was gone. 

"Believe you?" I exclaimed. "You seem to think the one thing I canswallow as creditable, even probable, is that an officer in the Morayshas been pilfering and cheating at cards. Oddly enough, it's the lastthing I'm going to believe without proof, and the last charge I shallpass without clearing it up to my satisfaction. Captain Murray, willyou go and bring me Mr. Urquhart and the Major?"

As Captain Murray closed the door I rose, and with my hands behindme took a turn across the room to the fireplace, then back to thewriting-table. 

"Mr. Mackenzie, " I said, "before we go any further I wish you tobelieve that I am your friend as well as your Colonel. I did somethingto start you upon your career, and I take a warm interest in it. Tobelieve you guilty of these charges will give me the keenest grief. However unlikely your defence may sound--and you seem to fear it--Iwill give it the best consideration I can. If you are innocent, youshall not find me prejudiced because many are against you and you arealone. Now, this coin--" I turned to the table. 

The coin was gone. 

I stared at the place where it had lain; then at the young man. He hadnot moved. My back had been turned for less than two seconds, and Icould have sworn he had not budged from the square of carpet onwhich he had first taken his stand, and on which his feet were stillplanted. On the other hand, I was equally positive the incriminatingcoin had lain on the table at the moment I turned my back. 

"It is gone!" cried I. 

"Gone?" he echoed, staring at the spot to which my finger pointed. Inthe silence our glances were still crossing when my brother tapped atthe door and brought in Mr. Urquhart, Captain Murray following. 

Dismissing for a moment this latest mystery, I addressed Mr. Urquhart. "I have sent for you, sir, to request in the first place that here inMr. Mackenzie's presence and in colder blood you will either withdrawor repeat and at least attempt to substantiate the charge you broughtagainst him. "

"I adhere to it, sir, that there was cheating. To withdraw would be toutter a lie. Does he deny it?"

I glanced at Mr. Mackenzie. "I deny that I cheated, " said he sullenly. 

"Further, " pursued Mr. Urquhart, "I repeat what I told you, sir. He_may_, while profiting by it have been unaware of the cheat. At themoment I thought it impossible; but I am willing to believe--"

"_You_ are willing!" I broke in. "And pray, sir, what about me, hisColonel, and the rest of his brother officers? Have you the coolnessto suggest--"

But the full question was never put, and in this world it will neverbe answered. A bugle call, distant but clear, cut my sentence inhalf. It came from the direction of the Place d'Armes. A second bugleechoed, it from the height of the Montagne du Parc, and within aminute its note was taken up and answered across the darkness fromquarter after quarter. 

We looked at one another in silence. "Business, " said my brother atlength, curtly and quietly. 

Already the rooms above us were astir. I heard windows thrown open, voices calling questions, feet running. 

"Yes, " said I, "it is business at length, and for the while thisinquiry must end. Captain Murray, look to your company. You, Major, see that the lads tumble out quick to the alarm-post. Onemoment!"--and Captain Murray halted with his hand on the door--"It isunderstood that for the present no word of to-night's affair passesour lips. " I turned to Mr. Mackenzie and answered the question I readin the lad's eyes. "Yes, sir; for the present I take off your arrest. Get your sword. It shall be your good fortune to answer the enemybefore answering me. "

To my amazement Mr. Urquhart interposed. He was, if possible, palerand more deeply agitated than before. "Sir, I entreat you not to allowMr. Mackenzie to go. I have reasons--I was mistaken just now--"

"Mistaken, sir?"

"Not in what I saw. I refused to fight him--under a mistake. Ithought--"

But I cut his stammering short. "As for you, " I said, "the mostcharitable construction I can put on your behaviour is to believe youmad. For the present you, too, are free to go and do your duty. Nowleave me. Business presses, and I am sick and angry at the sight ofyou. "

It was just two in the morning when I reached the alarm-post. Brusselsby this time was full of the rolling of drums and screaming of pipes;and the regiment formed up in darkness rendered tenfold more confusingby a mob of citizens, some wildly excited, others paralysed by terror, and all intractable. We had, moreover, no small trouble to disengagefrom our ranks the wives and families who had most unwisely followedmany officers abroad, and now clung to their dear ones bidding themfarewell. To end this most distressing scene I had in some instancesto use a roughness which it still afflicts me to remember. Yet inactual time it was soon overhand dawn scarcely breaking when theMorays with the other regiments of Pack's brigade filed out of thepark and fell into stride on the road which leads southward toCharleroi. 

In this record it would be immaterial to describe either our march orthe since-famous engagement which terminated it. Very early we beganto hear the sound of heavy guns far ahead and to make guesses at theirdistance; but it was close upon two in the afternoon before we reachedthe high ground above Quatre Bras, and saw the battle spread belowus like a picture. The Prince of Orange had been fighting his groundstubbornly since seven in the morning. Ney's superior artillery andfar superior cavalry had forced him back, it is true; but he stillcovered the cross-roads which were the key of his defence, and hisposition remained sound, though it was fast becoming critical. Just aswe arrived, the French, who had already mastered the farm of Piermont, on the left of the Charleroi road, began to push their skirmishersinto a thicket below it and commanding the road running east to Namur. Indeed, for a short space they had this road at their mercy, and thechance within grasp of doubling up our left by means of it. 

This happened, I say, just as we arrived; and Wellington, who hadreached Quatre Bras a short while ahead of us (having fetched acircuit from Brussels through Ligny, where he paused to inspectField-Marshal Blücher's dispositions for battle), at once saw thedanger, and detached one of our regiments, the 95th Rifles, to driveback the tirailleurs from the thicket; which, albeit scarcely breathedafter their march, they did with a will, and so regained the Allies'hold upon the Namur road. The rest of us meanwhile defiled down thissame road, formed line in front of it, and under a brisk cannonadefrom the French heights waited for the next move. 

It was not long in coming. Ney, finding that our artillery made poorplay against his, prepared to launch a column against us. Warned by acloud of skirmishers, our light companies leapt forward, chose theirshelter, and began a very pretty exchange of musketry. But this waspreliminary work only, and soon the head of a large French columnappeared on the slope to our right, driving the Brunswickers slowlybefore it. It descended a little way, and suddenly broke into three orfour columns of attack. The mischief no sooner threatened than Pictoncame galloping along our line and roaring that our division wouldadvance and engage with all speed. For a raw regiment like the Moraysthis was no light test; but, supported by a veteran regiment on eitherhand, they bore it admirably. Dropping the Gordons to protect the roadin case of mishap, the two brigades swung forward in the prettieststyle, their skirmishers running in and forming on either flank asthey advanced. Then for a while the work was hot; but, as will alwayshappen when column is boldly met by line, the French quickly hadenough of our enveloping fire, and wavered. A short charge with thebayonet finished it, and drove them in confusion up the slope: nor hadI an easy task to resume a hold on my youngsters and restrain themfrom pursuing too far. The brush had been sharp, but I had thesatisfaction of knowing that the Morays had behaved well. They alsoknew it, and fell to jesting in high good-humour as General Packwithdrew the brigade from the ground of its exploit and posted us inline with the 42nd and 44th regiments on the left of the main road toCharleroi. 

To the right of the Charleroi road, and some way in advance of ourposition, the Brunswickers were holding ground as best they couldunder a hot and accurate artillery fire. Except for this, the battlehad come to a lull, when a second mass of the enemy began to move downthe slopes: a battalion in line heading two columns of infantry directupon the Brunswickers, while squadron after squadron of lancerscrowded down along the road into which by weight of numbers they mustbe driven. The Duke of Brunswick, perceiving his peril, headed acharge of his lancers upon the advancing infantry, but without theleast effect. His horsemen broke. He rode back and called on hisinfantry to retire in good order. They also broke, and in the attemptto rally them he fell mortally wounded. 

The line taken by these flying Brunswickers would have brought themdiagonally across the Charleroi road into our arms, had not the Frenchlancers seized this moment to charge straight down it in a body. Theyencountered, and the indiscriminate mass was hurled on to us, chokingand overflowing the causeway. In a minute we were swamped--the twoHighland regiments and the 44th bending against a sheer weight ofTrench horsemen. So suddenly came the shock that the 42nd had notime to form square, until two companies were cut off and well-nighdestroyed; _then_ that noble regiment formed around the horsemen whocould boast of having broken it, and left not one to bear back thetale. The 44th behaved more cleverly, but not more intrepidly: it didnot attempt to form square, but faced its rear rank round and gave theFrenchmen a volley; before they could checks their impetus the frontrank poured in a second; and the light company, which had held itsfire, delivered a third, breaking the crowd in two, and driving thehinder-part back in disorder and up the Charleroi road. But alreadythe fore-part had fallen upon the Morays, fortunately the last of thethree regiments to receive the shock. Though most fortunate, they hadleast experience, and were consequently slow in answering my shout. A wedge of lancers broke through us as we formed around the twostandards, and I saw Mr. Urquhart with the King's colours hurled backin the rush. The pole fell with him, after swaying within a yard of aFrench lancer, who thrust out an arm to grasp it. And with that Isaw Mackenzie divide the rush and stand--it may have been for fiveseconds--erect, with his foot upon the standard. Then three lancerspierced him, and he fell. But the lateral pressure of their owntroopers broke the wedge which the French had pushed into us. Theirleading squadrons were pressed down the road and afterwards accountedfor by the Gordons. Of the seven-and-twenty assailants around whom theMorays now closed, not one survived. 

Towards nightfall, as Ney weakened and the Allies were reinforced, ourtroops pushed forward and recaptured every important position takenby the French that morning. The Morays, with the rest of Picton'sdivision, bivouacked for the night in and around the farmstead ofGemiancourt. 

So obstinately had the field been contested that darkness fell beforethe wounded could be collected with any thoroughness; and the comfortof the men around many a camp-fire was disturbed by groans (oftenquite near at hand) of some poor comrade or enemy lying helpless andundiscovered, or exerting his shattered limbs to crawl towards theblaze. And these interruptions at length became so distressing to theMorays, that two or three officers sought me and demanded leave toform a fatigue party of volunteers and explore the hedges and thicketswith lanterns. Among them was Mr. Urquhart: and having readily givenleave and accompanied them some little way on their search, I wasbidding them good-night and good-speed when I found him standing at myelbow. 

"May I have a word with you, Colonel?" he asked. 

His voice was low and serious. Of course I knew what subject filledhis thoughts. "Is it worth while, sir?" I answered. "I have lostto-day a brave lad for whom I had a great affection. For him theaccount is closed; but not for those who liked him and are stillconcerned in his good name. If you have anything further against him, or if you have any confession to make, I warn you that this is a badmoment to choose. "

"I have only to ask, " said he, "that you will grant me the firstconvenient hour for explaining; and to remind you that when I besoughtyou not to send him into action to-day, I had no time to give youreasons. "

"This is extraordinary talk, sir. I am not used to command the Moraysunder advice from my subalterns. And in this instance I had reasonsfor not even listening to you. " He was silent. "Moreover, " Icontinued, "you may as well know, though I am under no obligationto tell you, that I do most certainly not regret having given thatpermission to one who justified it by a signal service to his king andcountry. "

"But would you have sent him _knowing_ that he must die? Colonel, " hewent on rapidly, before I could interrupt, "I beseech you to listen. Iknew he had only a few hours to live. I saw his wraith last night. It stood behind his shoulder in the room when in Captain Murray'spresence he challenged me to fight him. You are a Highlander, sir: youmay be sceptical about the second sight; but at least you must haveheard many claim it. I swear positively that I saw Mr. Mackenzie'swraith last night, and for that reason, and no other, tried to deferthe meeting. To fight him, knowing he must die, seemed to me as badas murder. Afterwards, when the alarm sounded and you took off hisarrest, I knew that his fate must overtake him--that my refusal haddone no good. I tried to interfere again, and you would not hear. Naturally you would not hear; and very likely, if you had, his fatewould have found him in some other way. That is what I try to believe. I hope it is not selfish, sir; but the doubt tortures me. "

"Mr. Urquhart, " I asked, "is this the only occasion on which you havepossessed the second sight, or had reason to think so?"

"No, sir. "

"Was it the first or only time last night you believed you weregranted it?"

"It was the _second_ time last night, " he said steadily. 

We had been walking back to my bivouac fire, and in the light of it Iturned and said: "I will hear your story at the first opportunity. Iwill not promise to believe, but I will hear and weigh it. Go now andjoin the others in their search. "

He saluted, and strode away into the darkness. The opportunity Ipromised him never came. At eleven o'clock next morning we began ourwithdrawal, and within twenty-four hours the battle of Waterloohad begun. In one of the most heroic feats of that day--the famousresistance of Pack's brigade--Mr. Urquhart was among the first tofall. 

III

Thus it happened that an affair which so nearly touched the honour ofthe Morays, and which had been agitating me at the very moment whenthe bugle sounded in the Place d'Armes, became a secret shared bythree only. The regiment joined in the occupation of Paris, and didnot return to Scotland until the middle of December. 

I had ceased to mourn for Mr. Mackenzie, but neither to regret him norto speculate on the mystery which closed his career, and which, nowthat death had sealed Mr. Urquhart's lips, I could no longer hope topenetrate, when, on the day of my return to Inverness, I was remindedof him by finding, among the letters and papers awaiting me, avisiting-card neatly indited with the name of the Reverend SamuelSaul. On inquiry I learnt that the minister had paid at least threevisits to Inverness during the past fortnight, and had, on eachoccasion, shown much anxiety to learn when the battalion might beexpected. He had also left word that he wished to see me on a matterof much importance. 

Sure enough, at ten o'clock next morning the little man presentedhimself. He was clearly bursting to disclose his business, and oursalutations were scarce over when he ran to the door and called tosome one in the passage outside. 

"Elspeth! Step inside, woman. The housekeeper, sir, to the late Mr. Mackenzie of Ardlaugh, " he explained, as he held the door to admither. 

She was dressed in ragged mourning, and wore a grotesque and fearfulbonnet. As she saluted me respectfully I saw that her eyes indeed weredry and even hard, but her features set in an expression of quietand hopeless misery. She did not speak, but left explanation to theminister. 

"You will guess, sir, " began Mr. Saul, "that we have called to learnmore of the poor lad. " And he paused. 

"He died most gallantly, " said I: "died in the act of saving thecolours. No soldier could have wished for a better end. "

"To be sure, to be sure. So it was reported to us. He died, as onemight say, without a stain on his character?" said Mr. Saul, with asort of question in his tone. 

"He died, " I answered, "in a way which could only do credit to hisname. "

A somewhat constrained silence followed. The woman broke it. "You arenot telling us all, " she said, in a slow, harsh voice. 

It took me aback. "I am telling all that needs to be known, " I assuredher. 

"No doubt, sir, no doubt, " Mr. Saul interjected. "Hold your tongue, woman. I am going to tell Colonel Ross a tale which may or may notbear upon anything he knows. If not, he will interrupt me before Igo far; but if he says nothing I shall take it I have his leave tocontinue. Now, sir, on the 16th day of June last, and at six in themorning--that would be the day of Quatre Bras--"

He paused for me to nod assent, and continued. "At six in the morningor a little earlier, this woman, Elspeth Mackenzie, came to me at theManse in great perturbation. She had walked all the way from Ardlaugh. It had come to her (she said) that the young Laird abroad was in greattrouble since the previous evening. I asked, 'What trouble? Was itdanger of life, for instance?'--asking it not seriously, but ratherto compose her; for at first I set down her fears to an old woman'swhimsies. Not that I would call Elspeth old precisely--"

Here he broke off and glanced at her; but, perceiving she paid littleattention, went on again at a gallop. "She answered that it wasworse--that the young Laird stood very near disgrace, and (the worstof all was) at a distance she could not help him. Now, sir, forreasons I shall hereafter tell you, Mr. Mackenzie's being in disgracewould have little surprised me; but that she should know of it, hebeing in Belgium, was incredible. So I pressed her, and she beingdistraught and (I verily believe) in something like anguish, came outwith a most extraordinary story: to wit, that the Laird of Ardlaughhad in his service, unbeknown to him (but, as she protested, wellknown to her), a familiar spirit--or, as we should say commonly, a'brownie'--which in general served him most faithfully but at timeserratically, having no conscience nor any Christian principle todirect him. I cautioned her, but she persisted, in a kind of wildterror, and added that at times the spirit would, in all good faith, do things which no Christian allowed to be permissible, and further, that she had profited by such actions. I asked her, 'Was thieving oneof them?' She answered that it was, and indeed the chief. 

"Now, this was an admission which gave me some eagerness to hearmore. For to my knowledge there were charges lying against young Mr. Mackenzie--though not pronounced--which pointed to a thief in hisemployment and presumably in his confidence. You will remember, sir, that when I had the honour of meeting you at Mr. Mackenzie's table, Itook my leave with much abruptness. You remarked upon it, no doubt. But you will no longer think it strange when I tell you thatthere--under my nose--were a dozen apples of a sort which growsnowhere within twenty miles of Ardlaugh but in my own Manse garden. The tree was a new one, obtained from Herefordshire, and plantedthree seasons before as an experiment. I had watched it, therefore, particularly; and on that very morning had counted the fruit, and beendismayed to find twelve apples missing. Further, I am a pretty goodjudge of wine (though I taste it rarely), and could there and thenhave taken my oath that the claret our host set before us was the verywine I had tasted at the table of his neighbour Mr. Gillespie. As forthe venison--I had already heard whispers that deer and all game werenot safe within a mile or two of Ardlaugh. These were injurious tales, sir, which I had no mind to believe; for, bating his religion, I saweverything in Mr. Mackenzie which disposed me to like him. But I knew(as neighbours must) of the shortness of his purse; and the multipliedevidence (particularly my own Goodrich pippins staring me in the face)overwhelmed me for a moment. 

"So then, I listened to this woman's tale with more patience--or, let me say, more curiosity--than you, sir, might have given it. Shepersisted, I say, that her master was in trouble; and that the troublehad something to do with a game of cards, but that Mr. Mackenzie hadbeen innocent of deceit, and the real culprit was this spirit I tellof--"

Here the woman herself broke in upon Mr. Saul. "He had naeconscience--he had nae conscience. He was just a poor luck-child, bornby mischance and put away without baptism. He had nae conscience. Howshould he?"

I looked from her to Mr. Saul in perplexity. 

"Whist!" said he; "we'll talk of that anon. "

"We will not, " said she. "We will talk of it now. He was my own child, sir, by the young Laird's own father. That was before he was marriedupon the wife he took later--"

Here Mr. Saul nudged me, and whispered: "The old Laird--had hermarried to that daunderin' old half-wit Duncan, to cover things up. This part of the tale is true enough, to my knowledge. "

"My bairn was overlaid, sir, " the woman went on; "not by purpose, I will swear before you and God. They buried his poor body withoutbaptism; but not his poor soul. Only when the young Laird came, andmy own bairn clave to him as Mackenzie to Mackenzie, and wrought andhunted and mended for him--it was not to be thought that the poorinnocent, without knowledge of God's ways--"

She ran on incoherently, while my thoughts harked back to the voice Ihad heard wailing behind the door of the _entresol_ at Brussels; tothe young Laird's face, his furious indignation, followed by hopelessapathy, as of one who in the interval had learnt what he could neverexplain; to the marked coin so mysteriously spirited from sight; toMr. Urquhart's words before he left me on the night of Quatre Bras. 

"But he was sorry, " the woman ran on; "he was sorry--sorry. He camewailing to me that night; yes, and sobbing. He meant no wrong; it wasjust that he loved his own father's son, and knew no better. There wasno priest living within thirty miles; so I dressed, and ran to theminister here. He gave me no rest until I started. "

I addressed Mr. Saul. "Is there reason to suppose that, besides thiswoman and (let us say) her accomplice, any one shared the secret ofthese pilferings?"

"Ardlaugh never knew, " put in the woman quickly. "He may have guessedwe were helping him; but the lad knew nothing, and may the saintsin heaven love him as they ought! He trusted me with his purse, andslight it was to maintain him. But until too late, he never knew--no, never, sir!"

I thought again of that voice behind the door of the _entresol_. 

"Elspeth Mackenzie, " I said, "I and two other living men alone knowof what your master was accused. It cannot affect him; but these twoshall hear your exculpation of him. And I will write the whole storydown, so that the world, if it ever hears the charge, may also hearyour testimony, which of the two (though both are strange) I believeto be not the less credible. "

THREE MEN OF BADAJOS

I

You enter the village of Gantick between two round-houses set one oneach side of the high road where it dips steeply towards the valleybottom. On the west of the opposite hill the road passes out betweenanother pair of round-houses. And down in the heart of the villageamong the elms facing the churchyard lych-gate stands a fifth, alone. 

The five, therefore, form an elongated St. Andrew's cross; but nobodycan tell for certain who built them, or why. They are all alike; each, built of cob, circular, whitewashed, having pointed windows and aconical roof of thatch with a wooden cross on the apex. When I was aboy these thatched roofs used to be pointed out to me as masterpieces;and they still endure. But the race of skilled thatchers, once thepeculiar pride of Gantick, has come to an end. What time has eatenmodern and clumsy hands have tried to repair; yet a glance will tellyou that the old sound work means to outwear the patches. 

The last of these famous thatchers lived in the round-house on yourright as you leave Gantick by the seaward road. His name was old NatEllery, or Thatcher Ellery, and his age (as I remember him) betweenseventy or eighty. Yet he clung to his work, being one of those leanmen upon whom age, exposure, and even drink take a long while totell. For he drank; not socially at the King of Bells, but at home insolitude with a black bottle at his elbow. He lived there alone; hisneighbours, even of the round-house across the road, shunned him andwere shunned by him: children would run rather than meet him on theroad as he came along, striding swiftly for his age (the drink neveraffected his legs), ready greaved and sometimes gauntleted as if inhaste for his job, always muttering to himself; and when he passed uswith just a side-glance from his red eyes, we observed that his paleface did not cease to twitch nor his lips to work. We felt somethinglike awe for the courage of Archie Passmore, who followed twenty pacesbehind with his tools and a bundle of spars or straw-rope, or perhapsat the end of a ladder which the two carried between them. Archie(aged sixteen) used to boast to us that he did not fear the old man aha'penny; and the old man treated Archie as a Gibeonite, a hewer ofwood, a drawer of water, never as an apprentice. Of his craft, exceptwhat he picked up by watching, the lad learned nothing. 

What made him so vaguely terrible to us was the common rumour in thevillage that Thatcher Ellery had served once under his Majesty'scolours, but had deserted and was still liable to be taken and shotfor it. Now this was true and everyone knew it, though why and howhe had deserted were questions answered among us only by dark andfrightful guesses. He had outlived all risk of the law's revenge;no one, it was certain, would take the trouble to seize and executejustice upon a drunkard of seventy. But we children never thought ofthis, and for us as we watched him down the road there was always thethrilling chance that over the hedge or around the next corner wouldpop up a squad of redcoats. Some of us had even seen it, in dreams. 

II

This is the story of Thatcher Ellery as it was told to me after hisdeath, which happened one night a few weeks before I came home fromschool on my first summer holidays. 

His father, in the early years of the century, had kept the mill up atTrethake Water, two miles above Gantick. There were two sons, of whomReub, the elder, succeeded to the mill. Nat had been apprenticed tothe thatching. Accident of birth assigned to the two these differentwalks of life but by taking thought their parents could not havechosen more wisely, for Nat was born clever, with an ambition to cut afigure in man's eyes and just that sense of finish and the need of itwhich makes the good workman. Whereas his brother went the daily roundat home as contentedly as a horse at a cider press. But Nat made themistake of lodging under his father's roof, and his mother made theworse mistake of liking her first-born the better and openly showingit. Nat, jealous and sensitive by nature, came to imagine thewhole world against him, and Reub, who had no vice beyond a largethick-witted selfishness, seemed to make a habit of treading on hiscorns. At length came the explosion: a sudden furious assault whichsent Reub souse into the paternal mill-leat. 

The mother cursed Nat forth from the door, and no doubt said a greatdeal more than she meant. The boy--he was just seventeen--carriedhis box down to the Ring of Bells. Next morning as he sat viciouslydriving in spars astride on a rick ridge, whence he could see farover the Channel, there came into sight round Derryman's Point aship-of-war, running before the strong easterly breeze with piledcanvas, white stun-sails bellying, and a fine froth of white waterrunning off her bluff bows. Another ship followed, and another--atlength a squadron of six. Nat watched them from time to time untilthey trimmed sails and stood in for Falmouth. Then he climbed downfrom the rick and put on his coat. 

Two years later he landed at Portsmouth, heartily sick of the sea andall belonging to it. He drank himself silly that night and for tennights following, and one morning found himself in the streets withouta penny. Portsmouth just then (July, 1808) was filled with troopsembarking under Sir John Moore for Portugal. One regiment especiallytook Nat's eye--the 4th or King's Own, and indeed the whole servicecontained no finer body of men. He sidled up to a corporal and gavea false name. Varcoe had been his mother's maiden name, and it camehandy. The corporal took him to a recruiting sergeant and handed himover with a wink. The recruiting sergeant asked a few convenientquestions, and within the hour Nat was a soldier of King George. To his disgust, however, they did not embark him for Portugal, butmarched him up the length of England to Lancaster, to learn his drillwith the second battalion. 

Seventeen months later they marched him back through the length ofEngland--outwardly a made soldier--and shipped him on a transport forGibraltar. In the meanwhile he had found two friends, the only tworeal ones he ever found in his life. They were Dave McInnes andTeddy Butson, privates of the 4th Regiment of Foot, 2nd Battalion, CCompany. Dave McInnes came from somewhere to the west of Perth anddrank like a fish when he had the chance. Teddy Butson came from theLord knew where, with a tongue that wagged about everything excepthis own past. It did indeed wag about that, but told nothing but lieswhich were understood and accepted for lies and by consequence didn'tcount. These two had christened Nat Ellery "Spuds. " He had no secretfrom them but one. 

He was the cleverest of the three, and they admired him for it. Headmired them in return for possessing something he lacked. It seemedto him the most important, almost the only important, thing in theworld. 

For (this was his secret) he believed himself to be a coward. Hewas not really a coward, though he carried about in his heart theliveliest fear of death and wounds. He was always asking himselfhow he would behave under fire, and somehow he found the odds heavyagainst his behaving well. He put roundabout questions to Dave andTeddy with the aim of discovering what they felt about it. Theyanswered in a careless, matter-of-fact way, as men to whom it hadnever occurred to have any doubt about themselves. Nat was desperatelyafraid they might guess his reason for asking. Just here, when theirfriendship might have been helpful, it failed altogether. He feltangry with them for not understanding, while he prayed that they mightnot understand. He took to observing other men in the regiment, andfound them equally cheerful, concerned only with the moment. He becamesecretly religious after a fashion. He felt that he was the one andonly coward in the King's Own, and prayed and planned his behaviourday and night to avoid being found out. 

In this state of mind he landed at Gibraltar. When the order came forthe 4th to move up to the front, he cheered with the rest, watchingtheir faces. 

III

At ten o'clock on the night of April 6th, 1812, our troops were toassault Badajos. It was now a few minutes past nine. 

The night had closed in without rain, but cloudy and thick, with riverfog. The moon would not rise for another hour or more. After the day'sfurious bombardment silence had fallen on besieged and besiegers; butnow and then a light flitted upon the ramparts, and at intervals theBritish in the trenches could hear the call of a sentinel proclaimingthat all was well in Badajos. 

In the trenches a low continuous murmur mingled with the voices ofrunning water. On the right by the Guadiana waited Picton's ThirdDivision, breathing hard as the time drew nearer. Kempt commandedthese for the moment. Picton was in camp attending to a hurt, but hismen knew that before ten o'clock he would arrive to lead across theRivillas by the narrow bridge and up to the walls of the Castlefrowning over the river at the city's north-east corner. 

In the centre and over against the wall to the left of the Castlewere assembled Colville's and Barnard's men of the Fourth and LightDivisions. Theirs, according to the General's plan, was to be the mainbusiness to-night--to carry the breaches hammered in the Trinidad andSanta Maria bastions and the curtain between; the Fourth told offfor the Trinidad and the curtain, the Light Bobs for the SantaMaria--heroes these of Moore's famous rear-guard, tried men of the52nd Foot and the 95th Rifles, with the 43rd beside them, and destinedto pay the heaviest price of all to-night for the glory of suchcomradeship. But, indeed, Ciudad Rodrigo had given the 43rd a title tostand among the best. 

And far away to the left, on the lower slopes of the hills, Leigh'sFifth Division was halted in deep columns. A knoll separated his twobrigades, and across the interval of darkness they could hear eachother's movements. They were to operate independently; and concerningthe task before the brigade on the right there could be no doubt: adash across the gorge at their feet, and an assault upon the outlyingPardaleras, on the opposite slope. But the business before Walker'sbrigade, on the left, was by no means so simple. The storming partyhad been marching light, with two companies of Portuguese to carrytheir ladders, and stood discussing prospects: for as yet they werewell out of earshot of the walls, and the moment for strict silencehad not arrived. 

"The Vincenty, " grumbled Teddy Butson; "and by shot to me if I evenknow what it's like. "

"Like!" McInnes' jaws shut on the word like a steel trap. "The scarp'sthirty feet high, and the ditch accordin'. The last on the west sideit will be--over by the river. I know it like your face, and itsuglier, if that's possible. "

"Dick Webster was saying it's mined, " put in Nat, commanding a firmvoice. 

"Eh? The glacis? I shouldn't wonder. Walker will know. "

"But what'll he do?"

"Well, now"--Dave seemed to be considering--"it will not be for thelikes of me to be telling the brigadier-general. But if Walker comesto me and says, 'Dave, there's a mine hereabouts. What will I bedoing?' it's like enough I shall say: 'Your honour knows best; but theusual course is to walk round it. '"

Teddy Butson chuckled, and rubbed the back of his axe approvingly. Natheld his tongue for a minute almost, and then broke out irritably: "Tohell with this waiting!"

His nerves were raw. Two minutes later a man on his right kickedawkwardly against his foot. It startled him, and he cursed furiously. 

"Hold hard, Spuds, my boy, " said the man cheerfully; "you ain't LordWellington, nor his next-of-kin, to be makin' all the noise. "

Teddy Butson wagged his head solemnly at a light which showed foggilyfor a moment on the distant ramparts. 

"All right, " said he, "you----town! Little you know 'tis Teddy'sbirthday. "

"There will be wine, " said Dave, dreamily. 

"Lashins of it; wine and women, and loot things. I wonder how our boysare feeling on the right? What's that?"--as a light shot up over theridge to the eastward. "Wish I could see what's doing over there. Mybelief we're only put up for a feint. "

"O hush it, you royal mill-clappers!" This came from the darknessbehind--from some man of the 30th, no doubt. 

The voice was tense, with a note of nervousness in it, which Natrecognised at once. He turned with a sudden desire to see thespeaker's face. Here was one who felt as he did, one who couldunderstand him, but his eyes sought in vain among the lines ofglimmering black shakos. 

"Silence in the ranks!" Two officers came forward, talking togetherand pausing to watch the curious light now rising and sinking andrising again in the sky over the eastern ridges. "They must havecaught sight of our fellows--listen, wasn't that a cheer? What time isit?" The officer was Captain Hopkins commanding Nat's Company, but nowin charge of the stormers. A voice hailed him, and he ran back. "Yes, sir, I think so decidedly, " Nat heard him saying, and he came runningclutching his sword sheath. "Silence men--the brigade will advance. "

The Portuguese picked up and shouldered their ladders: the orders weregiven, and the columns began to move down the slope. For a while theycould hear the tramp of the other brigade moving parallel with them onthe other side of the knoll, then fainter and fainter as it wheeledaside and down the gorge to the right. At the foot of the slope theyopened a view up the gorge lit for a moment by a flare burning on theramparts of the Pardaleras, and saw their comrades moving down andacross the bottom like a stream of red lava pouring towards the foot. The flare died down and our brigade struck away to the left over thelevel country. On this side Badajos remained dark and silent. 

They were marching quickly, yet the pace did not satisfy Nat. Hewanted to be through with it, to come face to face with the worstand know it. And yet he feared it abominably. For two years he hadcontrived to hide his secret. He had marched, counter-marched, fed, slept, and fought with his comrades; had dodged with them behindcover, loaded, fired, charged with them; had behaved outwardly like adecent soldier, but almost always with a sickening void in the pit ofthe stomach. Once or twice in particularly bad moments he had caughthimself blubbering, and with a deadly shame. He had not an idea thatat least a dozen of his comrades--among them Dave and Teddy--had seenit, and thought nothing of it; still less did he imagine that thosehad been his most courageous moments. Soldiers fight differently. Teddy Butson, for instance, talked all the time until his tongueswelled, and then he barked like a dog. Dave shut his teeth andgroaned. But these symptoms escaped Nat, whose habit was to think allthe while of himself. Of one thing he felt sure, that he had never yetbeen anything but glad to hear the recall sounded. 

Well, so far he had escaped. Heaven knew how he had managed it; heonly knew that the last two years had been as long as fifty, and heseemed to have been living since the beginning of the world. But herehe was, and actually keeping step with a storming party. He kept hiseyes on Dave's long lean back immediately in front and trudged on, divided between an insane desire to know of what Dave was thinking, and an equally insane wonder what Dave's body might be worth to him ascover. 

What was the silly word capering in his head? "Mill-clappers. " Why onearth "Mill-clappers?" It put him in mind of home: but he had no sillytender thoughts to waste on home, or the folks there. He had neverwritten to them. If they should happen on the copy of the Gazette--andthe chances were hundred to one against it--the name of NathanielVarcoe among the killed or wounded would mean nothing to them. Hetramped on, chewing his fancy, and extracted this from it: "A man withnever a friend at home hasn't even an excuse to be a coward, curseit!"

Suddenly the column halted, in a bank of fog through which his earcaught the lazy ripple of water. He woke up with a start. The fog wasall about them. 

"What's this?" he demanded aloud; then, with a catch of his breath, "Mines?"

"Eh, be quiet, " said Teddy Butson at his elbow; "listen to yonder. "And the word was hardly out when an explosion split the sky and wasfollowed by peal after peal of musketry. Nat had a swift vision of ahigh black wall against a background of flame, and then night camedown again as you might close a shutter. But the musketry continued. "That will be at the breaches, " Dave flung the words over his leftshoulder. Then followed another flash and another explosion. Thistime, however, the light, though less vivid than the first flash, didnot vanish. While he wondered at this Nat saw first of all the rim ofthe moon through the slant of an embrasure, and then Teddy's pale butcheerful face. 

The head of the column had been halted a few yards only from abreastwork, with a stockade above it and a _chevaux de frise_ on topof all. As far as knowledge of his whereabouts went, Nat might havebeen east, west, north or south of Badajos, or somewhere in anotherplanet. But the past two years had somehow taught him to divine thatbehind this ugly obstruction lay a covered way with a guard house. Andsure enough the men, keeping dead silence now, could hear the Frenchsoldiers chatting in that unseen guard house and laughing. 

"Now's the time. " Nat heard the word passed back by the young engineerofficer who had crept forward to reconnoitre: and then an order givenin Portuguese. 

"Ay, bring up the ladders, you greasers, and let's put it through. "This from Teddy Butson chafing by Nat's side. 

The two Portuguese companies came forward with the ladders as thestorming party moved up to the gateway. And just at that moment therethe sentry let off his alarm shot. It set all within the San Vincentebastion moving and whirring like the works of a mechanical toy; feetcame running along the covered way; muskets clinked on the stoneparapet; tongues of fire spat forth from the embrasures; and then, as the musketry quickened, a flash and a roar lifted the glacis awaybehind, to the right of our column, so near that the wind of it droveour men sideways. 

"All right, Johnny, " Dave grunted, recovering himself as the clods ofearth began to fall: "Blaze away, my silly ducks--we're not there!"

But the Portuguese companies as the mine exploded cast down theladders and ran. Half a dozen came charging back along the column'sright flank, and our soldiers cursed and struck at them as they fled. But the curses were as nothing beside those of the Portuguese officersstriving to rally their men. 

"My word, " said Teddy. "Hear them scandalous greasers! It's poor talk, is English. "

"On with you, lads"--it was Walker himself who shouted. "Pick up theladders, and on with you!"

They hardly waited for the word, but, shouldering the ladders, ranforward through the dropping bullets to the gate, cheering and cheeredby the rear ranks. 

But they flung themselves in vain on the gate. On its iron-bound andiron-studded framework their axes made no impression. A dozen mencharged it, using a ladder as a battering ram. "Aisy with that, yeblind ijjits!" yelled an Irish sergeant. "Ye'll be needin' themladders prisintly!" Our three privates found themselves in the crowdsurging towards the breastwork to the right of the gate. "Nip on myshoulders, Teddy lad, " grunted McInnes, and Teddy nipped up and beganhacking at the _chevaux de frise_ with his axe. "That's av ut, bhoys, "yelled the Irish sergeant again. "Lave them spoikes an' go for thestockade. Good for you, little man--whirro!" Nat by this time was ona comrade's back, and using his axe for dear life; one of twenty menhacking, ripping, tearing down the wooden stakes. But it was Teddy whowriggled through first with Dave at his heels. The man beneath Natgave a heave with his shoulders and shot him through his gap, asplinter tearing his cheek open. He fell head foremost sprawling downthe slippery slope of the ditch. 

While he picked himself up and stretched out a hand to recover his axea bullet struck the blade of it--ping! He caught up the axe and ranhis finger over it stupidly. Phut--another bullet spat into the softearth behind his shoulder. Then he understood. A fellow came tumblingthrough the gap, pitched exactly where Nat had been sprawling a momentbefore, rose to his knees, and then with a quiet bubbling sound laydown again. 

"Ugh! he would be killed--he must get out of this!" But there was nocover unless he found it across the ditch and close under the highstone curtain. They would be dropping stones, beams, fire barrels; butat least he would be out of the reach of the bullets. He forgot thechance--the certainty--of an enfilading fire from the two bastions. His one desire was to get across and pick some place of shelter. 

But by this time the men were pouring in behind and fast filling theditch. A fire-ball came crashing over the rampart, rolled down thegrass slope and lay sputtering, and in the infernal glare he saw allhis comrades' faces--every detail of their dress down to the mouldedpattern on their buttons. "Fourth! Fourth!" some one shouted, and thenvoice and vision were caught up and drowned together in a hell ofmusketry. He must win across or be carried he knew not where by thebrute pressure of the crowd. A cry broke from him and he ran, wavinghis axe, plunged down the slope and across. On the further slope anofficer caught him up and scrambled beside him. "Whirro, Spuds! Afterhim, boys!" sang out Teddy Butson. But Spuds did not hear. 

He and the officer were at the top of the turf--at the foot of thecurtain. "Ladders! Ladders!" He caught hold of the first as it waspushed up and helped--now the centre of a small crowd--to plant itagainst the wall. Then he fell back, mopping his forehead, and feelinghis torn cheek. What the devil were they groaning at? Short? Theladder too short? He stared up foolishly. The wall was thirty feethigh perhaps and the ladder ten feet short of that or more. "Heads!"A heavy beam crashed down, snapping the foot of the ladder like acabbage stump. Away to the left a group of men were planting another. Half a dozen dropped while he watched them. Why in the world were theydropping like that? He stared beyond and saw the reason. The Frenchmarksmen in the bastion were sweeping the face of the curtain withtheir cross fire--those cursed bullets again! And the ladder did notreach, after all. O it was foolishness--flinging away men like thisfor no earthly good! Why not throw up the business and go home? Whydidn't somebody stop those silly bugles sounding the Advance?

There they went again! It was enough to drive a man mad!

He turned and ran down the slope a short way. For the moment he held agrip on himself, but it was slackening, and in another half-minutehe would have lost it and run in mere blind horror. But in the firstgroup he blundered upon were Dave and Teddy, and a score of the King'sOwn, with a couple of ladders between them; and better still, theywere listening to Captain Hopkins, who waved an arm and pointed to anembrasure to the left. Nat, pulling himself up and staring with therest, saw that no gun stood in this embrasure, only a gabion. In amoment he was climbing the slope again; if a man must die, there'scomfort at least in company. He bore a hand in planting the twoladders; a third was fetched--heaven knew whence or how--and plantedbeside them, and up the men swarmed, three abreast, Dave leading onthe right-hand one, at the foot of which Nat hung back and swayed. Heheard Dave's long sigh, the sigh, the sob almost, of desire answeredat last. He watched him as he mounted. The ladders were still tooshort, and the leader on each must climb on the second man's shouldersto get hand-hold on the coping. In that moment he might be clubbed onthe head, defenceless. On the middle ladder a young officer of the30th mounted by Dave's side. Nat turned his head away, and as he didso a rush of men, galled by the fire from the bastion to the right, came on him like a wave, and swept him up the first four rungs. 

He was in for it now. Go back he could not, and he followed the tallRoyal ahead, whose heels scraped against his breast buttons, and onceor twice bruised him in the face; followed up, wondering what face ofdeath would meet him at the top, where men were yelling and jabberingin three languages--French, English, and that tongue which belongsequally to men and brutes at close quarters and killing. 

Something came sliding down the ladder. The man in front of Nat duckedhis head; Nat ducked too; but the body slid sideways before it reachedthem and dropped plumb--the inert lump which had been Dave McInnes. His shako, spinning straight down the ladder, struck Nat on theshoulder and leaped off it down into darkness. 

He saw other men drop; he saw Teddy Butson parallel with him on thefar ladder, and mounting with him step for step--now earlier, nowlater, but level with him most of the time. They would meet at theembrasure; find together whatever waited for them there. Nat wassobbing by this time--sweat and tears together running down the cakedblood on his cheek--but he did not know it. 

He had almost reached the top when a sudden pressure above forced hisfeet off the rung and his body over the ladder's side; and there hedangled, hooked by his armpit. Someone grabbed his leg, and, pullinghim into place, thrust him up over the shoulders of the tall Royal infront. He saw the leader on the middle ladder go down under a clubbedblow which burst through his japanned shako-cover, and then a handcame down to help him. 

"Spuds, O Spuds!"

It was Teddy reaching down from the coping to help him, and he paidfor it with his life. The two wriggled into the embrasure together, Nat's head and shoulders under Teddy's right arm. Nat did not see thebayonet thrust given, but heard a low grunt, as he and his friend'scorpse toppled over the coping together and into Badajos. 

He rose on his knees, caught a man by the leg, flung him, and as thefellow clutched his musket, wrenched the bayonet from it and plungedit into his body. While the Frenchman heaved, he pulled out the weaponfor another stab, dropped sprawling on his enemy's chest, and thefirst wave of the storming party broke over him, beating the breathout of him, and passed on. 

Yet he managed to wriggle his body from under this rush of feet, and, by-and-bye, to raise himself, still grasping the sidearm. Men of the4th were pouring thick and fast through the embrasure, and turning tothe right in pursuit of the enemy now running along the curve of theramparts. A few only pressed straight forward to silence the musketryjetting and crackling from the upper windows of two houses facing onthe fortifications. 

Nat staggered down after them, but turned as soon as he gained theroadway, and, passing to the right, plunged down a black side street. An insane notion possessed him of taking the two houses in the rear, and as he went he shouted to the 4th to follow him. No one paid himthe smallest attention, and presently he was alone in the darkness, rolling like a drunkard, shaken by his sobs, but still shouting andbrandishing his sidearm. He clattered against a high blank wall. 

Still he lurched forward over uneven cobbles. He had forgotten hisdesign upon the two houses, but a light shone at the end of this darklane, and he made for it, gained it, and found himself in a widerstreet. And there the enchantment fell on him. 

For the street was empty, utterly empty, yet brilliantly illuminated. Not a soul could he see: yet in house after house as he passed lightsshone from every window, in the lower floors behind blinds or curtainswhich hid the inmates. It was as if Badajos had arrayed itself fora fête; and still, as he staggered forward a low buzz, a whisper ofvoices surrounded him, and now and again at the sound of his footstepon the cobbles a lattice would open gently and be as gently re-shut. Hundreds of eyes were peering at him, the one British soldier in abewitched city; hundreds of unseen eyes, stealthy, expectant. Andalways ahead of him, faint and distant, sounded the bugles and theyells around the Trinidad and the breaches. 

He stood alone in the great square. While he paused at the corner, hiseyes following the rows of mysterious lights from house to house, fromstorey to storey, the regular tramp of feet fell on his ears and acompany of Foot marched down into the moonlight patch facing him andgrounded arms with a clatter. They were men of his own regiment, andthey formed up in the moonlight like a company of ghosts. One ortwo shots were fired at them, low down, from the sills of a lineof doorways to his right; but no citizen showed himself and no oneappeared to be hit. And ever from the direction of the Trinidad camethe low roar of combat and the high notes of the bugles. 

He was creeping along the side of the square towards an outlet at itsnorth-east corner, when the company got into motion again and cametowards him. Then he turned up a narrow lane to the left and fled. Hewas sobbing no longer; the passion had died out of him, and he knewhimself to be mad. In the darkness the silent streets began to fill;random shots whistled at every street corner; but he blundered on, taking no account of them. Once he ran against a body of Picton'smen--half a score of the 74th Regiment let loose at length from thecaptured Castle, and burning for loot. One man thrust the muzzle ofhis musket against his breast before he was recognized. Then two orthree shook hands with him. 

He was back in the square again and fighting--Heaven knew why--with anofficer of the Brunswickers over a birdcage. Whence the birdcage camehe had no clear idea, but there was a canary-bird inside, and hewanted it. A random shot smashed his left hand as he gripped the cage, and he dropped it as something with which he had no further concern. As he turned away, hugging his hand, and cursing the marksman, asecond shot from another direction took the Brunswicker between theshoulders. 

At dawn he found himself on the ramparts by the Trinidad breach, peering curiously among the slain. Across the top of the breachstretched a heavy beam studded with sword blades, and all the bodieson this side of it were French. Right beneath it lay one red-coatwhose skull had been battered out of shape as he attempted to wrigglethrough. All the upper blades were stained, and on one fluttered astrip of flannel shirt. Powder blackened every inch of the ramparthereabouts, and as Nat passed over he saw the bodies piled in scoreson the glacis below--some hideously scorched---among beams, gabions, burnt out fire-pots, and the wreckage of ladders. A horrible smell ofsinged flesh rose on the morning air; and, beyond the stench and thesullen smoke, birds sang in dewy fields, and the Guadiana flowedbetween grey olives and green promise of harvest. 

Below, a single British officer, wrapped in a dark cape, picked hisway among the corpses. Behind, intermittent shots and outcries told ofthe sack in progress. Save for Nat and the dead, the Trinidad was adesert. Yet he talked incessantly, and, stooping to pat the shoulderof the red-coat beneath the _chevaux de frise_, spoke to Dave McInnesand Teddy Butson to come and look. He never doubted they were besidehim. "Pretty mess they've made of this chap. " He touched the man'scollar: "48th, a corporal! Ugh, let's get out of this!" In imaginationhe linked arms with two men already stiffening, one at the foot andthe other on the summit of the San Vincent's bastion. "King's Own--allfriends in the King's Own!" he babbled as he retraced his way into thetown. 

He had a firelock in his hands . .. He was fumbling with it, veryclumsily, by reason of his shattered fingers. He had wandered down anarrow street, and was groping at an iron-studded door. "Won't open, "he told the ghosts beside him. "Must try the patent key. " He put themuzzle against the lock and fired, flung himself against the door, andas it broke before him, stood swaying, staring across a whisp ofsmoke into a mean room, where a priest knelt in one corner by a strawpallet, and a girl rose from beside him and slowly confronted theintruder. As she rose she caught at the edge of a deal table, andacross the smoke she too seemed to be swaying. 

IV

Seventeen years later Nat Ellery walked down the hill into Gantickvillage, and entered the King of the Bells. 

"I've come, " said he, "to inquire about a chest I left here, one timeback along. " And he told his name and the date. 

The landlord, Joshua Martin--son of old Joshua, who had kept the innin 1806--rubbed his double chin. "So you be Nat Ellery? I can justmind'ee as a lad. As for the chest--come to think, father sent it backto Trethake Water. Reckon it went in the sale. "

"What sale?"

"Why, don't 'ee know? When Reub sold up. That would be about fiveyears after the old folks died. The mill didn' pay after the war, soReub sold up and emigrated. "

"Ah! What became of him?"

"I did hear he was dead too, " said Joshua Martin, "out in Canadysomewhere. But that may be lies, " he added cheerfully. 

Nat made no further comment, but paid for his gin-and-water, picked uphis carpet bag, and went out to seek for a cottage. On his way he eyedthe thatched roofs critically. "Old Thatcher Hockaday will be dead, "he told himself. "There's work for me here. " He felt certain of it inFarmer Sprague's rick-yard. Farmer Sprague owned the two round-housesat the seaward end of the village, and wanted a tenant for one ofthem. Nat applied for it, and declared his calling. 

"Us can't afford to pay the old prices these times, " said the farmer. 

Nat's eyes had wandered off to the ricks. "You'll find you can whenyou've seen my work, " he answered. 

Thus he became tenant of the round-house, and lived in it to the dayof his death. No one in my day knew when or how the story first spreadthat he had been in the army and deserted. Perhaps he let slip thesecret in his cups; for at first he spent his Saturday evenings at theKing of Bells, dropping this habit when he found that every soul theredisliked him. Perhaps some discharged veteran of the 4th, trampingthrough Gantick in search of work, had recognised him and let falla damning hint. Long before I can remember the story had grown upuncontradicted, believed in by everyone. Beneath it the man lived onand deteriorated; but his workmanship never deteriorated, and no manchallenged its excellence. 

About a month before his death (I have this from the postmistress) hesat down and wrote a letter, and ten days later a visitor arrived atthe round-house. This visitor the Jago family (who lived across theroad) declare to have been Satan himself; they have assured meso again and again, and I cannot shake their belief. But that isnonsense. The man was a grizzled artizan looking fellow well overfifty; extraordinarily like the old Thatcher, though darker ofskin--yellow as a guinea, said Gantick; in fact and beyond doubt, theold man's son. He made no friends, no acquaintances ever, but confinedhimself to nursing the Thatcher, now tied to his chair by rheumatism. One thing alone gives colour to the Jagos' belief; the Thatcher whohad sent for him could not abide the sight of him. The Jago children, who snatched a fearful joy by stealing after dark into the unkemptgarden and peering through the uncurtained lattice windows, reportedthat as the pair sat at table with the black bottle between them, theThatcher's eyes would be drawn to fix themselves on the other's with astealthy shrinking terror--or, as they put it, "vicious when he wasna'lookin' and afeared when he was. "

They would sit (so the children reported) half an hour, or maybe anhour, at a time, without a word spoken between them; but, indeed, theyellow stranger troubled few with his speech. His only visits werepaid to the postmistress, who kept a small grocery store, where hebought arrowroot and other spoon-food for the invalid, and the Ring ofBells, where he went nightly to have the black bottle refilled withrum. On the doctor he never called. 

It was on July 12th that the end came. The fine weather, after lastingfor six weeks, had broken up two days before into light thunderstorms, which did not clear the air as usual. Ky Jago (short for Caiaphas), across the way, prophesied a big thunderstorm to come, but allowed hemight be mistaken when on the morning of the 12th the rain came downin sheets. This torrential rain lasted until two in the afternoon, when the sky cleared and a pleasant northwesterly draught played upthe valley. At six o'clock Ky Jago, who, in default of the Thatcher, was making shift to cover up Farmer Sprague's ricks, observed denseclouds massing themselves over the sea and rolling up slowly againstthe wind, and decided that the big storm would happen after all. Atnine in the evening it broke. 

It broke with such fury that the Stranger, with the black bottle underhis arm, paused on the threshold as much as to ask his father, "ShallI go?" But the old man was clamouring for drink, and he went. He washalf-way down the hill when with a crack the heavens opened and thewhite jagged lightning fairly hissed by him. Crack followed crack, flash and peal together, or so quick on each other, that no mortalcould distinguish the rattle of one discharge from the burstingexplosion of the other. No such tempest, he decided, could last forlong, and he fled down to the Ring of Bells for shelter until theworst should be over. He waited there perhaps twenty minutes, andstill the infernal din grew worse instead of better, until his anxietyfor the old man forced him out in the teeth of it and up the hill, where the gutters had overflowed upon the roadway, and the watersraced over his ankles. The first thing he saw at the top in one luridinstant was the entire Jago family gathered by their garden gate--sixof them--and all bareheaded under the deluge. 

The next flash revealed why they were there. Against the round-houseopposite a ladder rested, and above it on the steep roof clung aman--his father. He had clamped his small ladder into the thatch, andas the heaven opened and shut, now silhouetting the round-house, nowwrapping it in white flames--they saw him climbing up, and still up, towards the cross at the top. 

"Help, there!" shouted the Stranger. "Come down! O help, you!--we mustget him down!" The women and children screamed. A fresh explosiondrowned shout and screams. 

Jago and the Stranger reached the ladder together. The Strangermounted first; but as he did so, the watchers in one blinding momentsaw the old Thatcher's hand go up and grip the cross. The shutters ofdarkness came to with a roar, but above it rose a shrill, a terriblyhuman cry. 

"Dave!" cried the voice. "Ted!"

Silence followed, and then a heavy thud. They waited for the nextflash. It came. There was no one on the roof of the round-house, but abroken stump where the cross had been. 

V

This was the story the yellow Stranger told to the Coroner. And theCoroner listened and asked:

"Can you account for conduct of deceased? Had he been drinking thatevening?"

"He had, " answered the witness, and for a moment, while the Coronertook a note, it seemed he had said all. Then he seemed to think betterof it, and added "My father suffered from delusions sir. "

"Hey? What sort of delusions?" The Coroner glanced at the jury, whosat impassive. 

"Well, sir, my father in his young days had served as a soldier. "

Here the jurymen began to show interest suddenly. One or two leanedforward. "He belonged to the 4th Regiment, and was at the siegeof Badajos. During the sack of the city he broke into a house, and--and--after that he was missing. "

"Go on, " said the Coroner, for the witness had paused. 

"That was where he first met my mother, sir. It was her house, and sheand a priest kept him hidden till the English had left. After that hemarried her. There were three children--all boys. My brothers camefirst: they were twins. I was born two years later. "

"All born in Badajos?"

"All in Badajos, sir. My brothers will be there still, if they'reliving. "

"But these delusions--"

"I'm coming to them. My father must have been hurt, somehow hurt inhis head. He would have it that my two brothers--twins, sir, if you'llbe pleased to mark it--were no sons of his, but of two friends ofhis, soldiers of the 4th Regiment who had been killed, the both, thatevening by the San Vincente bastion. So you see he must have beenwrong in his head. "

"And you?"

"O, there couldn't be any mistake about me. I was his very image, and--perhaps I ought to say, sir--he hated me for it. When my motherdied--she had been a fruit-seller--he handed the business over to mybrothers, taking only enough to carry him back to England and mewith him. The day after we landed in London he apprenticed me to abrassworker. I was just turned fifteen, and from that day until lastWednesday three weeks we never set eyes on each other. "

"Let me see, " said the Coroner, turning back a page or two. "At thelast moment just before he fell, you say--and the other witnessesconfirm it--that he called out twice--uttered two names, I think. "

"They were the names by which he used to call my brothers, sir--thenames of his two mates in the storming party. "

THE TWO SCOUTS

_Chapters from the Memoirs of Manuel (or Manus) McNeill, an agentin the Secret Service of Great Britain during the campaigns of thePeninsula (1808-1813). A Spanish subject by birth, and a Spaniard inall his upbringing, he traces in the first chapter of his Memoirshis descent from an old Highland family through one Manus McNeill, a Jacobite agent in the Court of Madrid at the time of the War ofSuccession, who married and settled at Aranjuez. The authenticity ofthese Memoirs has been doubted, and according to Napier the name ofthe two scouts whom Marmont confused together (as will appear in asubsequent chapter) was not McNeill, but Grant: which is probableenough, but not sufficient to stamp the Memoirs as forgeries. Theirauthor may have chosen McNeill as a nom de guerre, and been at painsto deceive his readers on this point while adhering to strictesttruth in his relation of events. And this I conceive to be the realexplanation of a narrative which itself clears up, and credibly, certain obscurities in Napier_. --Q. ]

THE TWO SCOUTS

I

THE FORD OF THE TORMES

In the following chapters I shall leave speaking of my own adventuresand say something of a man whose exploits during the campaigns of1811-1812 fell but a little short of mine. I do so the more readilybecause he bore my own patronymic, and was after a fashion my kinsman;and I make bold to say that in our calling Captain Alan McNeill andI had no rival but each other. The reader may ascribe what virtue hewill to the parent blood of a family which could produce at one timein two distinct branches two men so eminent in a service requiring therarest conjunction of courage and address. 

I had often heard of Captain McNeill, and doubtless he had as oftenheard of me. At least thrice in attempting a _coup d'espionage_ uponground he had previously covered--albeit long before and on a quitedifferent mission--I had been forced to take into my calculationsthe fame left behind by "the Great McNeill, " and a wariness in ouradversaries whom he had taught to lock the stable door after the horsehad been stolen. For while with the Allies the first question onhearing of some peculiarly daring feat would be "Which McNeill?" theFrench supposed us to be one and the same person; which, if possible, heightened their grudging admiration. 

Yet the ambiguity of our friends upon these occasions was scarcelymore intelligent than our foes' complete bewilderment; since to anyonewho studied even the theory of our business the Captain's method andmine could have presented but the most superficial resemblance. Eachwas original, and each carried even into details the unmistakablestamp of its author. My combinations, I do not hesitate to say, werethe subtler. From choice I worked alone; while the Captain reliedfor help on his servant José (I never heard his surname), a Spanishpeasant of remarkable quickness of sight, and as full of resource asof devotion. Moreover I habitually used disguises, and prided myselfin their invention, whereas it was the Captain's vanity to wear hisconspicuous scarlet uniform upon all occasions, or at most to coverit with his short dark-blue riding cloak. This, while to be sure itenhanced the showiness of his exploits, obliged him to carry themthrough with a suddenness and dash foreign to the whole spirit ofmy patient work. I must always maintain that mine were the soundermethods; yet if I had no other reason for my admiration I could notwithhold it from a man who, when I first met him, had been wearing aBritish uniform for three days and nights within the circuit of theFrench camp. I myself had been living within it in a constant twitterfor hard upon three weeks. 

It happened in March, 1812, when Marmont was concentrating his forcesin the Salamanca district, with the intent (it was rumoured) ofmarching and retaking Ciudad Rodrigo, which the Allies had carriedby assault in January. This stroke, if delivered with energy, LordWellington could parry; but only at the cost of renouncing a successon which he had set his heart, the capture of Badajos. Already he hadsent forward the bulk of his troops with his siege-train on the marchto that town, while he kept his headquarters to the last moment inCiudad Rodrigo as a blind. He felt confident of smashing Badajosbefore Soult with the army of the south could arrive to relieve it;but to do this he must leave both Almeida and Ciudad Rodrigo exposedto Marmont, the latter with its breaches scarcely healed and itsgarrison disaffected. He did not fear actual disaster to thesefortresses; he could hurry back in time to defeat that, for heknew that Marmont had no siege guns, and could only obtain them bysuccessfully storming Almeida and capturing the battering train whichlay there protected by 3, 000 militia. Nevertheless a serious effort byMarmont would force him to abandon his scheme. 

All depended therefore (1) on how much Marmont knew and (2) on hisreadiness to strike boldly. Consequently, when that General began todraw his scattered forces together and mass them on the Tormes beforeSalamanca, Wellington grew anxious; and it was to relieve that anxietyor confirm it that I found myself serving as tapster of the Posada delRio in the village of Huerta, just above a ford of the river, and sixmiles from Salamanca. Neither the pay it afforded nor the leisure hadattracted me to the Posada del Rio. Pay there was little, and leisurethere was none, since Marmont's lines came down to the river here, andwe had a battalion of infantry quartered about the village--sixteenunder our roof--and all extraordinarily thirsty fellows for Frenchmen;besides a squadron of cavalry, vedettes of which constantly patrolledthe farther bank of the Tormes. The cavalry officers kept theirchargers--six in all--in the ramshackle stable in the court-yardfacing the inn; and since (as my master explained to me the firstmorning) it was a tradition of the posada to combine the duties oftapster and ostler in one person, I found all the exercise I neededin running between the cellar and the great kitchen, and between thekitchen and the stable, where the troopers had always a job for me, and allowed me in return to join in their talk. They seemed to thinkthis an adequate reward, and I did not grumble. 

Now, beside the stable, and divided from it by a midden-heap, therestood at the back of the inn a small outhouse with a loft. This inmore prosperous days had accommodated the master's own mule, but nowwas stored with empty barrels, strings of onions, and trusses ofhay--which last had been hastily removed from the larger stable whenthe troopers took possession. Here I slept by night, for lack of roomindoors, and also to guard the fodder--an arrangement which suited meadmirably, since it left me my own master for six or seven hours ofthe twenty-four. My bedroom furniture consisted of a truss of hay, alantern, a tinder-box, and a rusty fowling piece. For my toilet I wentto the bucket in the stable yard. 

On the fifth night, having some particular information to send toheadquarters, I made a cautious expedition to the place agreed uponwith my messenger--a fairly intelligent muleteer, and honest, but newto the business. We met in the garden at the rear of his cottage, conveniently approached by way of the ill-kept cemetery which stoodat the end of the village. If surprised, I was to act the nocturnallover, and he the angry defender of his sister's reputation--a foolishbut not ill-looking girl, to whom I had confided nothing beyond a fewamorous glances, so that her evidence (if unluckily needed) mightcarry all the weight of an obvious incapacity to invent or deceive. 

These precautions proved unnecessary. But my muleteer, though plucky, was nervous, and I had to repeat my instructions at least thrice indetail before I felt easy. Also he brought news of a fresh movementof battalions behind Huerta, and of a sentence in the latest GeneralOrder affecting my own movements, and this obliged me to make someslight alteration in my original message. So that, what with one thingand another, it wanted but an hour of dawn when I regained the yard ofthe Posada del Rio and cautiously re-entered the little granary. 

Rain had fallen during the night--two or three short but heavyshowers. Creeping on one's belly between the damp graves of a cemeteryis not the pleasantest work in the world, and I was shivering with wetand cold and an instant want of sleep. But as I closed the door behindme and turned to grope for the ladder to my sleeping loft, I came toa halt, suddenly and painfully wide awake. There was someone inthe granary. In the pitch darkness my ear caught the sound ofbreathing--of someone standing absolutely still and checking hisbreath within a few paces of me--perhaps six, perhaps less. 

I, too, stood absolutely still, and lifted my hand towards the hasp ofthe door. And as I did so--in all my career I cannot recall a nastiermoment--as my hand went up, it encountered another. I felt the fingersclosing on my wrist, and wrenched loose. For a moment our two handswrestled confusedly; but while mine tugged at the latch the otherfound the key and twisted it round with a click. (I had oiled the lockthree nights before. ) With that I flung myself on him, but again myadversary was too quick, for as I groped for his throat my cheststruck against his uplifted knee, and I dropped on the floor androlled there in intolerable pain. 

No one spoke. As I struggled to raise myself on hands and knees, Iheard the chipping of steel on flint, and caught a glimpse of a face. As its lips blew on the tinder this face vanished and reappeared, andat length grew steady in the blue light of the sulphur match. It wasnot the face, however, on which my eyes rested in a stupid wonder, but the collar below it--the scarlet collar and tunic of a Britishofficer. 

And yet the face may have had something to do with my bewilderment. Ilike, at any rate, to think so; because I have been in corners quiteas awkward, yet have never known myself so pitifully demoralised. Theuniform might be that of a British officer, but the face was that ofDon Quixote de la Mancha, and shone at me in that blue light straightout of my childhood and the story-book. High brow, high cheek-bone, long pointed jaw, lined and patient face--I saw him as I had known himall my life, and I turned up at the other man, who stooped over me, alook of absurd surmise. 

He was a Spanish peasant, short, thick-set and muscular, but assuredlyno Sancho: a quiet quick-eyed man, with a curious neat grace in hismovements. Our tussle had not heated him in the least. His right fistrested on my back, and I knew he had a knife in it; and while I gaspedfor breath he watched me, his left hand hovering in front of my mouthto stop the first outcry. Through his spread fingers I saw Don Quixotelight the lantern and raise it for a good look at me. And with that ina flash my wits came back, and with them the one bit of Gaelic knownto me. 

"_Latha math leat_" I gasped, and caught my breath again as thefingers closed softly on my jaw, "_O Alan mhic Neill_!"

The officer took a step and swung the lantern close to my eyes--soclose that I blinked. 

"Gently, José. " He let out a soft pleased laugh while he studied myface. Then he spoke a word or two in Gaelic--some question which I didnot understand. 

"My name is McNeill, " said I; "but that's the end of my mothertongue. "

The Captain laughed again. "We've caught the other one, José, " saidhe. And José helped me to my feet--respectfully, I thought. "Nowthis, " his master went on, as if talking to himself, "this explains agood deal. "

I guessed. "You mean that my presence has made the neighbourhood atrifle hot for you!"

"Exactly; there is a General Order issued which concerns one or bothof us. "

I nodded. "In effect it concerns us both; but, merely as a matter ofhistory, it was directed against me. Pardon the question, Captain, buthow long have you been within the French lines?"

"Three days, " he answered simply; "and this is the third night. "

"What? In that uniform?"

"I never use disguises, " said he--a little too stiffly for my taste. 

"Well, I do. And I have been within Marmont's cantonments for close, on three weeks. However, there's no denying you're a champion. But didyou happen to notice the date on the General Order?"

"I did; and I own it puzzled me. I concluded that Marmont must havebeen warned beforehand of my coming. "

"Not a bit of it. The order is eight days old. I secured a copy on themorning it was issued; and the next day, having learnt all thatwas necessary in Salamanca, I allowed myself to be hired in themarket-place of that city by the landlord of this damnable inn. "

"I disapprove of swearing, " put in Captain McNeill, very sharp andcurt. 

"As well as of disguises? You seem to carry a number of scruples intothis line of business. I suppose, " said I, nettled, "when you read inthe General Order that the notorious McNeill was lurking disguisedwithin the circle of cantonments, you took it that Marmont was puttinga wanton affront on your character, just for the fun of the thing?"

"My dear sir, " said the Captain, "if I have expressed myself rudely, pray pardon me: I have heard too much of you to doubt your courage, and I have envied your exploits too often to speak slightingly of yourmethods. As a matter of fact, disguise would do nothing, and worsethan nothing, for a man who speaks Spanish with my Highland accent. Imay, perhaps, take a foolish pride in my disadvantage, but, " and herehe smiled, "so, you remember, did the fox without a tail. "

"And that's very handsomely spoken, " said I; "but unless I'm mistaken, you will have to break your rule for once, if you wish to cross theTormes this morning. "

"It's a case of must. Barring the certainty of capture if I don't, I have important news to carry--Marmont starts within forty-eighthours. "

"Since it seems that for once we are both engaged on the samebusiness, let me say at once, Captain, and without offence, that mynews is as fresh as yours. Marmont certainly starts within forty-eighthours to assault Ciudad Rodrigo, and my messenger is already two hourson his way to Lord Wellington. "

I said this without parade, not wishing to hurt his feelings. Lookingup I found his mild eyes fixed on me with a queer expression, almostwith a twinkle of fun. 

"To assault Ciudad Rodrigo? I think not. "

"Almeida, then, and Ciudad Rodrigo next. So far as we are concernedthe question is not important. "

"My opinion is that Marmont intends to assault neither. "

"But, my good sir, " I cried, "I have seen and counted thescaling-ladders!"

"And so have I. I spent six hours in Salamanca itself, " said theCaptain quietly. 

"Well, but doesn't that prove it? What other place on earth can hewant to assault? He certainly is not marching south to join Soult. " Iturned to José, who had been listening with an impassive face. 

"The Captain will be right. He always is, " said José, perceiving thatI appealed to him. 

"I will wager a month's pay--"

"I never bet, " Captain McNeill interrupted, as stiffly as before. "Asyou say, Marmont will march upon the Agueda, but in my opinion he willnot assault Ciudad Kodrigo. "

"Then he will be a fool. "

"H'm! As to that I think we are agreed. But the question just now ishow am I to get across the Tormes? The ford, I suppose, is watched onboth sides. " I nodded. "And I suppose it will be absolutely fatal toremain here long after daybreak?"

"Huerta swarms with soldiers, " said I, "we have sixteen in the posadaand a cavalry picket just behind. A whole battalion has eaten thevillage bare, and is foraging in all kinds of unlikely places. To besure you might have a chance in the loft above us, under the hay. "

"Even so, you cannot hide our horses. "

"Your horses?"

"Yes, they're outside at the back. I didn't know there was a cavalrypicket so close, and José must have missed it in the darkness. "

José looked handsomely ashamed of himself. 

"They are well-behaved horses, " added the Captain. "Still, if theycannot be stowed somewhere, it is unlikely they can be explained away, and of course it will start a search. "

"Our stable is full. "

"Of course it is. Therefore you see we have no choice--apart fromour earnest wish--but to cross the ford before daybreak. How is itpatrolled on the far side?"

"Cavalry, " said I; "two vedettes. "

"Meeting, I suppose, just opposite the ford? How far do they patrol?"

"Three hundred yards maybe: certainly not more. "

The Captain pursed up his lips as if whistling. 

"Is there good cover on the other side? My map shows a wood of fairsize. "

"About half a mile off; open country between. Once there, you ought tobe all right; I mean that a man clever enough to win there ought tomake child's-play of the rest. "

He mused for half a minute. "The stream is two wide for me to hear themovements of the patrols opposite. José has a wonderful ear. "

"Yes, Captain, I can hear the water from where we stand, " José put in. 

"He is right, " said I, "it's not a question of distance, but of thenoise of the water. The ford itself will not be more than twenty yardsacross. "

"What depth?"

"Three feet in the middle, as near as can be. I have rubbed down toomany horses these last three days not to know. The river may havefallen an inch since yesterday. They have cleared the bottom of theford, but just above and below there are rocks, and slippery ones. "

"My horse is roughed. Of course the bank is, watched on this side?"

"Two sentries by the ford, two a little up the road, and theguard-house not twenty yards beyond. Captain, I think you'll have toput on a disguise for once in your life. "

"Not if I can help it. "

"Then, excuse me, but how the devil do you propose to manage?"

He frowned at the oath, recovered himself, and looked at me again withsomething like a twinkle of fun in his solemn eyes. 

"Do you know, " said he, "it has just occurred to me to pay you atremendous compliment--McNeill to McNeill, you understand? I proposeto place myself entirely in your hands. "

"Oh, thank you!" I pulled a wry face. "Well, it's a compliment if everthere was one--an infernally handsome compliment. Your man, I suppose, can look after himself?" But before he could reply I added, "No; heshall go with me: for if you _do_ happen to get across, I shall have tofollow, and look sharp about it. " Then, as he seemed inclined toprotest, "No inconvenience at all--my work here is done, and you arepretty sure to have picked up any news I may have missed. You had bestbe getting your horse at once; the dawn will be on us in half an hour. Bring him round to the door here. José will findstraw--hay--anything--to deaden his footsteps. Meanwhile I'll ask you toexcuse me for five minutes. "

The Spaniard eyed me suspiciously. 

"Of course, " said I, reading his thoughts, "if your master doubtsme--"

"I think, Señor McNeill, I have given you no cause to suspect it, " theCaptain gravely interrupted. "There is, however, one question I shouldlike to ask, if I may do so without offence. Is it your intention thatI should cross in the darkness or wait for daylight?"

"We must wait for daylight; because although it increases some obviousdangers--"

"Excuse me; your reasons are bound to be good ones. I will fetcharound my horse at once, and we shall expect you back here in fiveminutes. "

In five minutes time I returned to find them standing in the darknessoutside the granary door. José had strewn a space round about withhay; but at my command he fetched more and spread it carefully, stepby step, as Captain McNeill led his horse forward. My own arms werefull; for I had spent the five minutes in collecting a score of Frenchblankets and shirts off the hedges, where the regimental washermen hadspread them the day before to dry. 

The sketch on the following page will explain my plan and ourmovements better than a page of explanation:--

[Illustration]

The reader will observe that the Posada del Rio, which faces inwardsupon its own courtyard, thrusts out upon the river at its rear a gablewhich overhangs the stream and flanks its small waterside garden fromview of the village street. Into this garden, where the soldiers wereused to sit and drink their wine of an evening, I led the Captain, whispering him to keep silence, for eight of the Frenchmen sleptbehind the windows above. In the corner by the gable was an awning, sufficient, when cleared of stools and tables, to screen him and hishorse from any eyes looking down from these windows, though not tallenough to allow him to mount. And at daybreak, when the battalionassembled at its alarm-post above the ford, the gable itself wouldhide him. But of course the open front of the garden--where in twoplaces the bank shelved easily down to the water--would leave him infull view of the troopers across the river. It was for this that Ihad brought the blankets. Across the angle by the gable there rana clothes line on which the house-servant, Mercedes, hung herdish-clouts to dry. Unfastening the inner end, I brought it forwardand lashed it to a post supporting a dovecote on the river wall. Tofasten it high enough I had to climb the post, and this set the birdsmoving uneasily in the box overhead. But before their alarm grewserious I had slipped down to earth again, and now it took José andme but a couple of minutes to fling the blankets over the line andprovide the Captain with a curtain, behind which, when day broke, hecould watch the troopers and his opportunity. Already, in the villagebehind us, a cock was crowing. In twenty minutes the sun would be upand the bugles sounding the reveille. "Down the bank by the gable, " Iwhispered. "It runs shallow there, and six or seven yards to the rightyou strike the ford. When the vedettes are separated--just before theyturn to come back--that's your time. "

I took José by the arm. "We may as well be there to see. How were youplanning to cross?"

"Oh, " said he, "a marketer--with a raw-boned Galician horse and twopanniers of eggs--for Arapiles--"

"That will do; but you must enter the village at the farther end andcome down the road to the ford. Get your horse"--we crept back to thegranary together--"but wait a moment, and I will show you the wayround. "

When I rejoined him at the back of the granary he had his horse ready, and we started to work around the village. But I had miscalculated thetime. The sky was growing lighter, and scarcely were we in the lanebehind the courtyard before the bugles began to sound. 

"Well, " said I, "that may save us some trouble after all. "

Across the lane was an archway leading into a wheelwright's yard. Ithad a tall door of solid oak studded with iron nails; but this wasunlocked and unbolted, and I knew the yard to be vacant, for theFrench farriers had requisitioned all the wheelwright's tools threedays before, and the honest man had taken to his bed and proposed tostay there pending compensation. 

To this archway we hastily crossed, and had barely time to close thedoor behind us before the soldiers, whose billets lay farther up thelane, came running by in twos and threes for the alarm-post, the laterones buckling their accoutrements as they ran halting now and then, and muttering as they fumbled with a strap or a button. José at myinstruction had loosened his horse's off hind shoe just sufficientlyto allow it to clap; and as soon as he was ready I opened the doorboldly, and we stepped out into the lane among the soldiers, cursingthe dog's son of a smith who would not arise from his lazy bed toattend to two poor marketers pressed for time. 

Now it had been dim within the archway, but out in the lane there wasplenty of light, and it did me good to see José start when his eyesfell on me. For a couple of seconds I am sure he believed himselfbetrayed: and yet, as I explained to him afterwards, it was perhapsthe simplest of all my disguises and--barring the wig--depended moreupon speech and gait than upon any alteration of the face. (For aparticular account of it I must refer the reader back to my adventurein Villafranca. On this occasion, having proved it once, I felt moreconfident; and since it deceived José, I felt I could challengescrutiny as an aged peasant travelling with his son to market. )

A couple of soldiers passed us and flung jests behind them as wehobbled down the lane, the loose shoe clacking on the cobbles, Josétugging at his bridle, and I limping behind and swearing volubly, withbent back and head low by the horse's rump, and on the near side, which would be the unexposed one when we gained the ford. And so wereached the main street and the river, José turning to point withwonder at the troops as we hustled past. One or two made a feint tosteal an egg from our panniers. José protested, halting and calling inSpanish for protection. A sergeant interfered; whereupon the men beganto bait us, calling after us in scraps of camp Spanish. José lost histemper admirably; for me, I shuffled along as an old man dazed withthe scene; and when we came to the water's edge felt secure enough toattempt a trifle of comedy business as José hoisted my old limbs on tothe horse's back behind the panniers. It fetched a shout of laughter. And then, having slipped off boots and stockings deliberately, Josétook hold of the bridle again and waded into the stream. We were safe. 

I had found time for a glance at the farther bank, and saw that thetroopers were leisurely riding to and fro. They met and parted just aswe entered the ford. Before we were half-way across they had come nearto the end of their beat, with about three hundred yards between them, and I was thinking this a fair opportunity for the Captain when Joséwhispered, "There he goes, " very low and quick, and with a souse, horse and rider struck the water behind us by the gable of the inn. Asthe stream splashed up around them we saw the horse slip on the stonybottom and fall back, almost burying his haunches, but with two shortheaves he had gained the good gravel and was plunging after us. Theinfantry spied him first--the two vedettes were in the act of wheelingabout and heard the warning before they saw. Before they could puttheir charges to the gallop Captain McNeill was past us and climbingthe bank between them. A bullet or two sang over us from the Huertashore. Not knowing of what his horse was capable, I feared he mightyet be headed off; but the troopers in their flurry had lost theirheads and their only chance unless they could drop him by a flukingshot. They galloped straight for the ford-head, while the Captainslipped between, and were almost charging each other before they couldpull up and wheel at right angles in pursuit. 

"Good, " said José simply. A shot had struck one of our panniers, smashing a dozen eggs (by the smell he must have bought them cheap), and he halted and gesticulated in wrath like a man in two minds aboutreturning and demanding compensation. Then he seemed to think betterof it, and we moved forward; but twice again before we reached dryland he turned and addressed the soldiers in furious Spanish acrossthe babble of the ford. José had gifts. 

For my part I was eager to watch the chase which the rise of thebank hid from us, though we could hear a few stray shots. But José'sconfidence proved well grounded, for when we struck the high roadthere was the Captain half a mile away within easy reach of the wood, and a full two hundred yards ahead of the foremost trooper. 

"Good!" said José again. "Now we can eat!" and he pulled out a loaf ofcoarse bread from the injured pannier, and trimming off an end wherethe evil-smelling eggs had soaked it, divided it in two. On this and asprig of garlic we broke our fast, and were munching and jogging alongcontentedly when we met the returning vedettes. They were not in thebest of humours, you may be sure, and although we drew aside andpaused with crusts half lifted to our open mouths to stare at themwith true yokel admiration, they cursed us for taking up too much ofthe roadway, and one of them even made a cut with his sabre at thenear pannier of eggs. 

"It's well he broke none, " said I as we watched them down the road. "Idon't deny you and your master any reasonable credit, but for my tasteyou leave a little too much to luck. "

Our road now began to skirt the wood into which the Captain hadescaped, and we followed it for a mile and more, José all the whilewhistling a gipsy air which I guessed to carry a covert message; andsure enough, after an hour of it, the same air was taken up in thewood to our right, where we found the Captain dismounted and seatedcomfortably at the foot of a cork tree. 

He was good enough to pay me some pretty compliments, and, aftercomparing notes, we agreed that--my messenger being a good seven hourson his way with all the information Lord Wellington could need for themoment--we would keep company for a day or two, and a watch on theforce and disposition of the French advance. We had yet to discoverMarmont's objective. For though in Salamanca the French officers hadopenly talked of the assault on Ciudad Rodrigo, there was still achance (though neither of us believed in it) that their general meantto turn aside and strike southward for the Tagus. Our plan, therefore, was to make for Tammames where the roads divided, where the hillsafforded good cover, and to wait. 

So towards Tammames (which lay some thirty miles off) we turned ourfaces, and arriving there on the 27th, encamped for two days amongthe hills. Marmont had learnt on the 14th that none of Wellington'sdivisions were on the Algueda, and we agreed, having watched hispreparations, that on the 27th he would be ready to start. These twodays, therefore, we spent at ease, and I found the Captain, in spiteof his narrow and hide-bound religion, an agreeable companion. Hehad the McNeills' genealogy at his finger ends, and I picked up moreinformation from him concerning our ancestral home in Ross and ourancestral habits than I have ever been able to verify. Certainly ourgrandfathers, Manus of Aranjuez and Angus (slain at Sheriff-muir), hadbeen first cousins. But this discovery had no sooner raised me to aclaim on his regard than I found his cordiality chilled by the thoughtthat I believed in the Pope or (as he preferred to put it) Antichrist. My eminence as a genuine McNeill made the shadow of my error thetaller. In these two days of inactivity I felt his solicitude growinguntil, next to the immediate movements of Marmont, my conversionbecame for him the most important question in the Peninsula, and I sawthat, unless I allowed him at least to attempt it, another forty-eighthours would wear him to fiddle-strings. 

Thus it happened that mid-day of the 30th found us on the wooded hillabove the cross-roads; found me stretched at full length on my backand smoking, and the Captain (who did not smoke) seated beside me withhis pocket Testament, earnestly sapping the fundamental errors ofRome, when José, who had been absent all the morning reconnoitring, brought news that Marmont's van (which he had been watching, and aheadof which he had been dodging since ten o'clock) was barely two milesaway. The Captain pulled out his watch, allowed them thirty-fiveminutes, and quietly proceeded with his exposition. As the head of theleading column swung into sight around the base of the foot-hills, hesought in his haversack and drew out a small volume--the _Pilgrim'sProgress_--and having dog's-eared a page of it inscribed my name onthe fly-leaf, "from his kinsman, Alan McNeill. "

"It is a question, " said he, as I thanked him, "and one often debated, if it be not better that a whole army, such as we see approaching, should perish bodily in every circumstance of horror than that onesoul, such as yours or mine, should fail to find the true light. Formy part"--and here he seemed to deprecate a weakness--"I have neverbeen able to go quite so far; I hope not from any lack of intellectualcourage. Will you take notes while I dictate?"

So on the last leaf of the _Pilgrim's Progress_ I entered the strengthof each battalion, and noted each gun as the great army wound its wayinto Tammames below us, and through it for the cross-roads beyond, but not in one body, for two of the battalions enjoyed an hour's haltthere before setting forward after their comrades, by this time out ofsight. They had taken the northern road. 

"Ciudad Rodrigo!" said I. "And there goes Wellington's chance ofBadajos. "

The Captain beckoned to José and whispered in his ear, then opened hisTestament again as the sturdy little Spaniard set off down the hillwith his leisurely, lopping gait, so much faster than it seemed. Thesun was setting when he returned with his report. 

"I thought so, " said the Captain. "Marmont has left three-fourths ofhis scaling ladders behind in Tammames. Ciudad Rodrigo he will notattempt; I doubt if he means business with Almeida. If you please, "he added, "José and I will push after and discover his real business, while you carry to Lord Wellington a piece of news it will do him goodto hear. "

II

THE BARBER-SURGEON OF SABUGAL

So, leaving my two comrades to follow up and detect the true object ofMarmont's campaign, I headed south for Badajos. The roads were heavy, the mountain torrents in flood, the only procurable horses and mulessuch as by age or debility had escaped the strictest requisitioning. Nevertheless, on the 4th of April I was able to present myself atLord Wellington's headquarters before Badajos, and that same eveningstarted northwards again with his particular instructions. Iunderstood (not, of course, by direct word of mouth) that disquietingmessages had poured in ahead of me from the allied commandersscattered in the north, who reported Ciudad Rodrigo in imminent peril;that my news brought great relief of mind; but that in any case ourarmy now stood committed to reduce Badajos before Soult came to itsrelief. Our iron guns had worked fast and well, and already threebreaches on the eastern side of the town were nearly practicable. Badajos once secured, Wellington would press northward again to teachMarmont manners; but for the moment our weak troops opposing him musteven do the best they could to gain time and protect the magazines andstores. 

At six o'clock then in the evening of the 4th, on a fresh mount, Iturned my back on the doomed fortress, and crossing the Guadiana bythe horse ferry above Elvas, struck into the Alemtejo. 

On the 6th I reached Castello Branco and found the position of theAllies sufficiently serious. Victor Alten's German cavalry were in thetown--600 of them--having fallen back before Marmont without strikinga blow, and leaving the whole country four good marches from Rodrigoexposed to the French marauders. They reported that Rodrigo itself hadfallen (which I knew to be false, and, as it turned out, Marmont hadleft but one division to blockade the place); they spoke openly of afurther retreat upon Vilha Velha. But I regarded them not. They haddone mischief enough already by scampering southward and allowingMarmont to push in between them and the weak militias on whom it nowdepended to save Almeida with its battering train, Celorico and Pinhelwith their magazines, and even Ciudad Rodrigo itself; and while Ilistened I tasted to myself the sarcastic compliments they were likelyto receive from Lord Wellington when he heard their tale. 

Clearly there was no good to be done in Castello Branco, and the nextmorning I pushed on. I had no intention of rejoining Captain McNeill;for, as he had observed on parting--quoting some old Greek for hisauthority--"three of us are not enough for an army, and for any otherpurpose we are too many, " and although pleased enough to have akinsman's company he had allowed me to see that he preferred to workalone with José, who understood his methods, whereas mine (in spiteof his compliments) were unfamiliar and puzzling. I knew him to bewatching Marmont, and even speculated on the chances of our meeting, but my own purpose was to strike the Coa, note the French force thereand its disposition, and so make with all serviceable news for thenorth, where Generals Trant and Wilson with their Portuguese militiawere endeavouring to cover the magazines. 

Travelling on mule-back now as a Portuguese drover out of work, Idodged a couple of marauding parties below Penamacor, found Marmont inforce in Sabugal at the bend of the Coa, on the 9th reached Guarda, atown on the top of a steep mountain, and there found General Trant inposition with about 6, 000 raw militiamen. To him I presented myselfwith my report--little of which was new to him except my reason forbelieving Ciudad Rodrigo safe for the present; and this he heard withreal pleasure, chiefly because it confirmed his own belief and gave ita good reason which it had hitherto lacked. 

And here I must say a word on General Trant. He was a gallant soldierand a clever one, but inclined (and here lay his weakness) to be onoccasion too clever by half. In fact, he had a leaning towards my ownline of business, and naturally it was just here that I found him out. I am not denying that during the past fortnight his cleverness hadserved him well. He had with a handful of untrained troops to do hisbest for a group of small towns and magazines, each valuable and eachin itself impossible of defence. His one advantage was that he knewhis weakness and the enemy did not, and he had used this knowledgewith almost ludicrous success. 

For an instance; immediately on discovering the true line of Marmont'sadvance he had hurried to take up a position on the lower Coa, but hadbeen met on his march by an urgent message from Governor Le Mesurierthat Almeida was in danger and could not resist a resolute assault. Without hesitation Trant turned and pushed hastily with one brigade tothe Cabeça Negro mountain behind the bridge of Almeida, and reached itjust as the French drew near, driving 200 Spaniards before them acrossthe plain. Trant, seeing that the enemy had no cavalry at hand, withthe utmost effrontery and quite as if he had an army behind him, threwout a cloud of skirmishers beyond the bridge, dressed up a dozenguides in scarlet coats to resemble British troopers, galloped withthese to the glacis of Almeida, spoke the governor, drew off a scoreof invalid troopers from the hospital in the town, and at dusk madehis way back up the mountain, which in three hours he had covered withsham bivouac fires. 

These were scarcely lit when the governor, taking his cue, made adetermined sortie and drove back the French light troops, who in thedarkness had no sort of notion of the numbers attacking them. Socompletely hoaxed, indeed, was their commander that he, who had comewith two divisions to take Almeida, and held it in the hollow of hishand, decamped early next morning and marched away to report, thefortress so strongly protected as to be unassailable. 

Well this, as I say, showed talent. Artistically conceived as a _rusede guerre_, in effect it saved Almeida. But a success of the kind toooften tempts a man to try again and overshoot his mark. Now Marmont, with all his defects of vanity, was no fool. He had a strong armymoderately well concentrated; he had, indeed, used it to littlepurpose, but he was not likely, with his knowledge of the total forceavailable by the Allies in the north, to be seriously daunted or forlong by a game of mere impudence. In my opinion Trant, after brazeninghim away from Almeida, should have thanked Heaven and walked humblyfor a while. To me even his occupation of Guarda smelt of dangerousbravado, for Guarda is an eminently treacherous position, strong initself, and admirable for a force sufficient to hold the ridges behindit, but capable of being turned on either hand, affording bad retreat, and, therefore, to a small force as perilous as it is attractive. ButI was to find that Trant's enterprise reached farther yet. 

To my description of Marmont's forces he listened (it seemed to me)impatiently, asking few questions and checking off each statement with"Yes, yes, " or "Quite so. " All the while his fingers were drumming onthe camp table, and I had no sooner come to an end than he began toquestion me about the French marshal's headquarters in Sabugal. Thetown itself and its position he knew as well as I did, perhaps better. I had not entered it on my way, but kept to the left bank of the Coa. I knew Marmont to be quartered there, but in what house or what partof the town I was ignorant. "And what the deuce can it matter?" Iwondered. 

"But could you not return and discover?" the general asked at length. 

"Oh, as for that, " I answered, "it's just as you choose to order. "

"It's risky of course, " said he. 

"It's risky to be sure, " I agreed; "but if the risk comes in the day'swork I take it I shall have been in tighter corners. "

"Excuse me, " he said with a sort of deprecatory smile, "but I was notthinking of you; at least not altogether. " And I saw by his face thathe held something in reserve and was in two minds about confiding it. 

"I beg that you won't think of me, " I said simply, for I have alwaysmade it a rule to let a general speak for himself and ask no questionswhich his words may not fairly cover. Outside of my own business (thelimits of which are well defined) I seek no responsibility, least ofall should I seek it in serving one whom I suspect of over-cleverness. 

"Look here, " he said at length, "the Duke of Ragusa is a fine figureof a man. "

"Notoriously, " said I. "All Europe knows it, and he certainly knows ithimself. "

"I have heard that his troops take him at his own valuation. "

"Well, " I answered, "he sits his horse gallantly; he has courage. Atpresent he is only beginning to make his mistakes; and soldiers, likewomen, have a great idea of what a warrior ought to look like. "

"In fact, " said General Trant, "the loss of him would make an almightydifference. "

Now he had asked me to be seated and had poured me out a glass of winefrom his decanter. But at these words I leapt up suddenly, jolting thetable so that the glass danced and spilled half its contents. 

"What the dickens is wrong?" asked the general, snatching a map out ofthe way of the liquor. "Good Lord, man! You don't suppose I was askingyou to assassinate Marmont!"

"I beg your pardon, " said I, recovering myself. "Of course not; but itsounded--"

"Oh, did it?" He mopped the map with his pocket handkerchief andlooked at me as who should say "Guess again. "

I cast about wildly. "This man cannot be wanting to kidnap him!"thought I to myself. 

"You tell me his divisions are scattered after supplies. I hear thatthe bulk of his troops are in camp above Penamacor; that at theoutside he has in Sabugal under his hand but 5, 000. Now Silveirashould be here in a couple of days; that will make us roughly 12, 000. "

"Ah!" said I, "a surprise?" He nodded. "Night?" He nodded again. "Andyour cavalry?" I pursued. 

"I could, perhaps, force General Bacellar to spare his squadron ofdragoons from Celorico. Come, what do you think of it?"

"I do as you order, " said I, "and that I suppose is to return toSabugal and report the lie of the land. But since, general, you ask myopinion, and speaking without local knowledge, I should say--"

"Yes?"

"Excuse me, but I will send you my opinion in four days' time. " And Irose to depart. 

"Very good, but keep your seat. Drink another glass of wine. "

"Sabugal is twenty miles off, and when I arrive I have yet to discoverhow to get into it, " I protested. 

"That is just what am going to tell you. "

"Ah, " said I, "so you have already been making arrangements?"

He nodded while he poured out the wine. "You come opportunely, for Iwas about to rely on a far less _rusé_ hand. The plan, which is myown, I submit to your judgment, but I think you will allow some meritin it. "

Well, I was not well-disposed to approve of any plan of his. In truthhe had managed to offend me seriously. Had an English gentlemancommitted my recent error of supposing him to hint at assassination, General Trant (who can doubt it?) would have flamed out in wrath; butme he had set right with a curt carelessness which said as plain aswords that the dishonouring suspicion no doubt came natural enough toa Spaniard. He had entertained me with a familiarity which I had notasked for, and which became insulting the moment he allowed me tosee that it came from cold condescension. I have known a dozencombinations spoilt by English commanders who in this way havecombined extreme offensiveness with conscious affability; and Ihave watched their allies--Spaniards and Portuguese of the firstnobility--raging inwardly, while ludicrously impotent to discover apeg on which to hang their resentment. 

I listened coldly, therefore, leaving the general's wine untasted andignoring his complimentary deference to my judgment. Yet the neatnessand originality of his scheme surprised me. He certainly had talent. 

He had found (it seemed) an old vine-dresser at Bellomonte, whosebrother kept a small shop in Sabugal, where he shaved chins, solddrugs, drew teeth, and on occasion practised a little bone-setting. This barber-surgeon or apothecary had shut up his shop on the approachof the French and escaped out of the town to his brother's roof. As amatter of fact he would have been safer in Sabugal, for the excessesof the French army were all committed by the marauding partiesscattered up and down the country-side and out of the reach ofdiscipline, whereas Marmont (to his credit) sternly discouragedlooting, paid the inhabitants fairly for what he took, and altogethertreated them with uncommon humanity. 

It was likely enough, therefore, that the barber-surgeon's shop stoodas he had left it. And General Trant proposed no less than thatI should boldly enter the town, take down the shutters, and openbusiness, either personating the old man or (if I could persuade himto return) going with him as his assistant. In either case the dangerof detection was more apparent than real, for so violently did thePortuguese hate their invaders that scarcely an instance of treacheryoccurred during the whole of this campaign. The chance of theneighbours betraying me was small enough, at any rate, to justify therisk, and I told the General promptly that I would take it. 

Accordingly I left Guarda that night, and reaching Bellomonte a littleafter daybreak, found the vine-dresser and presented Trant's letter. 

He was on the point of starting for Sabugal, whither he had perforceto carry a dozen skins of wine, and with some little trouble Ipersuaded the old barber-surgeon to accompany us, bearing a petitionto Marmont to be allowed peaceable possession of his shop. We arrivedand were allowed to enter the town, where I assisted the vine-dresserin handling the heavy wine skins, while his brother posted off toheadquarters and returned after an hour with the marshal's protection. Armed with this, he led me off to the shop, found it undamaged, helpedme to take down the shutters, showed me his cupboards, tools, andstock in trade, and answered my rudimentary questions in the art ofcompounding drugs--in a twitter all the while to be gone. Nor did Iseek to delay him (for if my plans miscarried, Sabugal would assuredlybe no place for him). Late in the afternoon he left me and went offin search of his brother, and I fell to stropping my razors with whatcheerfulness I could assume. 

Before nightfall my neighbours on either hand had looked in and givenme good evening. They asked few questions when I told them I wastaking over old Diego's business for the time, and kept theirspeculations to themselves. I lay down to sleep that night with alighter heart. 

The adventure itself tickled my humour, though I had no opinion atall of the design--Trant's design--which lay at the end of it. This, however, did not damp my zeal in using eyes and ears; and on the thirdafternoon, when the old vine-dresser rode over with more wine skins, and dropped in to inquire about business and take home a pint ofrhubarb for the stomach-ache, I had the satisfaction of making up forhim, under the eyes of two soldiers waiting to be shaved, a packetcontaining a compendious account of Marmont's dispositions with adescription of his headquarters. My report concluded with thesewords:--

"_With regard to the enterprise on which I have had the honour to beconsulted I offer my opinion with humility. It is, however, a fixedone. You will lose two divisions; and even a third, should you bringit. _"

On the whole I had weathered through these three days with eminentsuccess. The shaving I managed with something like credit (for aPortuguese). My pharmaceutics had been (it was vain to deny) in thehighest degree empirical, but if my patients had not been cured theyeven more certainly had not died--or at least their bodies had notbeen found. What gravelled me was the phlebotomy. Somehow the chanceof being called upon to let blood had not occurred to me, and on thesecond morning when a varicose sergeant of the line dropped intomy operating chair and demanded to have a vein opened, I bitterlyregretted that I had asked my employer neither where to insert thelancet nor how to stop the bleeding. I eyed the brawn in the chair, sofull of animal life and rude health--no, strike at random I could not!I took his arm and asked insinuatingly, "Now, where do you usuallyhave it done?" "Sometimes here, sometimes there, " he answered. Joy! Iremembered a bottle of leeches on the shelf. I felt the man's pulseand lifted his eyelids with trembling fingers. "In your state, " saidI, "it would be a crime to bleed you. What you want is leeches. " "Youthink so?" he asked--"how many?" "Oh, half-a-dozen--to begin with. "In my sweating hurry I forgot (if I had ever known) that the bottlecontained but three. "No, " said I, "we'll start with a couple and workup by degrees. " He took them on his palm and turned them over with astubby forefinger. "Funny little beasts!" said he and marched out ofthe shop into the sunshine. To this day when recounting his Peninsularexploits he omits his narrowest escape. 

I can hardly describe the effect of this ridiculous adventure upon mynerves. My heart sank whenever a plethoric customer entered the shop, and I caught fright or snatched relief even from the weight of afootfall or the size of a shadow in my doorway. A dozen times inintervals of leisure I reached down the bottle from its shelf andstudied my one remaining leech. A horrible suspicion possessed me thatthe little brute was dead. He remained at any rate completely torpid, though I coaxed him almost in agony to show some sign of life. Obviously the bottle contained nothing to nourish him; to offer him myown blood would be to disable him for another patient. On the fourthafternoon I went so far as to try him on the back of my hand. I waitedfive minutes; he gave no sign. Then, startled by a footstep outside, Ipopped him hurriedly back in his bottle. 

A scraggy, hawk-nosed trooper of hussars entered and flung himselfinto my chair demanding a shave. In my confusion I had lathered hischin and set to work before giving his face any particular attention. He had started a grumble at being overworked (he was just off duty andsmelt potently of the stable), but sat silent as men usually do at thefirst scrape of the razor. On looking down I saw in a flash that thiswas not the reason. He was one of the troopers whose odd jobs I haddone at the Posada del Rio in Huerta, an ill-conditioned Norman calledMichu--Pierre Michu. Since our meeting, with the help of a littlewalnut juice, I had given myself a fine Portuguese complexion withother small touches sufficient to deceive a cleverer man. But byill-luck (or to give it a true name, by careless folly) I had knottedunder my collar that morning a yellow-patterned handkerchief which Ihad worn every day at the Posada del Rio, and as his eyes travelledfrom this to my face I saw that the man recognised me. 

There was no time for hesitating. If I kept silence, no doubt he woulddo the same; but if I let him go, it would be to make straight forheadquarters with his tale. I scraped away for a second or two in deadsilence, and then holding my razor point I said, sharp and low, "I amgoing to kill you. "

He turned white as a sheet, opened his mouth, and I could feel himgathering his muscles together to heave himself out of the chair; noeasy matter. I laid the flat of the razor against his flesh, and hesank back helpless. My hand was over his mouth. "Yes, I shall haveplenty of time before they find you. " A sound in his throat was theonly answer, something between a grunt and a sob. "To be sure" I wenton, "I bear you no grudge. But there is no other way, unless--"

"No, no, " he gasped. "I promise. The grave shall not be more secret. "

"Ah, " said I, "but how am I to believe that?"

"Parole d'honneur. "

"I must have even a little more than that. " I made him swear by thefaith of a soldier and half-a-dozen other oaths which occurred to meas likely to bind him if, lacking honour and religion, he might stillhave room in his lean body for a little superstition. He took everyoath eagerly, and with a pensive frown I resumed my shaving. At thefirst scrape he winced and tried to push me back. 

"Indeed no, " said I; "business is business, " and I finished the jobmethodically, relentlessly. It still consoles me to think upon what hemust have suffered. 

When at length I let him up he forced an uneasy laugh. "Well, comrade, you had the better of me I must say. Eh! but you're a clever one--andat Huerta, eh?" He held out his hand. "No rancour though--a fair trickof war, and I am not the man to bear a grudge for it. After all war'swar, as they say. Some use one weapon, some another. You know, " hewent on confidentially, "it isn't as if you had learnt anything outof me. In that case--well, of course, it would have made all thedifference. "

I fell to stropping my razor. "Since I have your oath--" I began. 

"That's understood. My word, though, it is hard to believe!"

"You had best believe it, anyway, " said I; and with a sort ofshamefaced swagger he lurched out of the shop. 

Well, I did not like it. I walked to the door and watched him down thestreet. Though it wanted an hour of sunset I determined to put up myshutters and take a stroll by the river. I had done the most necessarypart of my work in Sabugal; to-morrow I would make my way back toBellomonte, but in case of hindrance it might be as well to know howthe river bank was guarded. At this point a really happy inspirationseized me. There were many pools in the marsh land by the river--poolsleft by the recent floods. Possibly by hunting among these andstirring up the mud I might replenish my stock of leeches. I had thevaguest notion how leeches were gathered, but the pursuit would at theworst give me an excuse for dawdling and spying out the land. 

I closed the shop at once, hunted out a tin box, and with this and mybottle (to serve as evidence, if necessary, of my good faith) made myway down to the river side north of the town. The bank here was wellguarded by patrols, between whom a number of peaceful citizens sata-fishing. Seen thus in line and with their backs turned to me theybore a ludicrous resemblance to a row of spectators at a play; andgazing beyond them, though dazzled for a moment by the full level raysof the sun, I presently became aware of a spectacle worth looking at. 

On the road across the river a squadron of lancers was movingnorthward. 

"Hallo!" thought I, "here's a reconnaissance of some importance. " Butdeciding that any show of inquisitiveness would be out of place underthe eyes of the patrols, I kept my course parallel with the river's, at perhaps 300 yards distance from it. This brought me to the firstpool, and there I had no sooner deposited my bottle and tin box on thebrink than beyond the screen of the town wall came pushing the head ofa column of infantry. 

Decidedly here was something to think over. The column unwound itselfin clouds of yellow dust--a whole brigade; then an interval, thenanother dusty column--two brigades! Could Marmont be planning againstTrant the very _coup_ which Trant had planned against him? Twentymiles--it could be done before daybreak; and the infantry (I had seenat the first glance) were marching light. 

I do not know to this day if any leeches inhabit the pools outsideSabugal. It is very certain that I discovered none. About a quarterof a mile ahead of me and about the same distance back from the riverthere stood a ruinous house which had been fired, but whether recentlyor by the French I could not tell; once no doubt the country villaof some well-to-do townsman, but now roofless, and showing smears ofblack where the flames had licked its white outer walls. Towards thisI steered my way cautiously, that behind the shelter of an outbuildingI might study the receding brigades at my leisure. 

The form of the building was roughly a hollow square enclosing afair-sized patio, the entrance of which I had to cross to gain therearward premises and slip out of sight of the patrols. The gate ofthis entrance had been torn off its hinges and now lay jammed aslantacross the passage; beyond it the patio lay heaped with bricks andrubble, tiles, and charred beams. I paused for a moment and craned infor a better look at the _débris_. 

And then the sound of voices arrested me--a moment too late. I wasface to face with two French officers, one with a horse beside him. They saw me, and on the instant ceased talking and stared; but withoutchanging their attitudes, which were clearly those of two disputants. They stood perhaps four paces apart. Both were young men, and theone whose attitude most suggested menace I recognised as a younglieutenant of a line regiment (the 102nd) whom I had shaved thatmorning. The other wore the uniform of a staff officer, and at thefirst glance I read a touch of superciliousness in his indignant face. His left hand held his horse's bridle, his other he still kept tightlyclenched while he stared at me. 

"What the devil do _you_ want here?" demanded the lieutenant roughlyin bad Portuguese. "But, hallo!" he added, recognising me, and turneda curious glance on the other. 

"Who is it?" the staff officer asked. 

"It's a barber; and I believe something of a surgeon. That's so, eh?"He appealed to me. 

"In a small way, " I answered apologetically. 

The lieutenant turned again to his companion. "He might do for us; thesooner the better, unless--"

"Unless, " interrupted the staff officer with cold politeness, "youprefer the apology you owe me. "

The lieutenant swung round again with a brusque laugh. "Look here, have you your instruments about you?"

For answer I held up my bottle with the one absurd leech dormant atthe bottom. He laughed again just as harshly. 

"That is about the last thing to suit our purpose. Listen"--he glancedout through the passage--"the gates won't be shut for an hour yet. Itwill take you perhaps twenty minutes to fetch what is necessary. Youunderstand? Return here, and don't keep us waiting. Afterwards, shouldthe gates be shut, one of us will see you back to the town. "

I bowed without a word and hurried back across the water meadow. Alongthe river bank between the patrols the anglers still sat in theirpatient row. And on the road to the north-west the tail of the secondbrigade was winding slowly out of sight. 

Once past the gate and through the streets, I walked more briskly, paused at my shop door to fit the key in the lock, and was astonishedwhen the door fell open at the push of my hand. 

Then in an instant I understood. The shop had been ransacked--bythat treacherous scoundrel Michu, of course. Bottles, herbs, shavingapparatus all was topsy-turvy. Drawers stood half-open; the floor wasin a litter. 

I had two consolations: the first that there were no incriminatingpapers in the, house; the second that Michu had clearly paid me aprivate visit before carrying his tale to headquarters. Otherwise thedoor would have been sealed and the house under guard. I reflectedthat the idiot would catch it hot for this unauthorised piece of work. Stay! he might still be in the house rummaging the upper rooms. Icrept upstairs. 

No, he was gone. He had left my case of instruments, too, afterbreaking the lock and scattering them about the floor. I gathered themtogether in haste, descended again, snatched up a roll of lint, andpausing only at the door for a glance up and down the street, made myescape post haste for the water meadow. 

In the patio I found the two disputants standing much as I had leftthem, the staff officer gently and methodically smoothing his horse'scrupper, the lieutenant with a watch in his hand. 

"Good, " said he, closing it with a snap, "seventeen minutes only. Bythe way, do you happen to understand French?"

"A very little, " said I. 

"Because, as you alone are the witness of this our little difference, it will be in order if I explain that I insulted this gentleman. "

"Somewhat grossly, " put in the staff officer. 

"Somewhat grossly, in return for an insult put upon me--somewhatgrossly--in the presence of my company, two days ago, in the campabove Penamacor, when I took the liberty to resent a message conveyedby him to my colonel--as he alleges upon the authority of the marshal, the Duke of Ragusa. "

"An assertion, " commented the staff officer, "which I am able to proveon the marshal's return and with his permission, provided always thatthe request be decently made. "

They had been speaking in French and meanwhile removing their tunics. The staff officer had even drawn off his riding boots. "Do youunderstand?" asked the lieutenant. 

"A little, " said I; "enough to serve the occasion. "

"Excellent barber-surgeon! Would that all your nation were no moreinquisitive!" He turned to the staff officer. "Ready? On guard, then, monsieur!"

The combat was really not worth describing. The young staff officerhad indeed as much training as his opponent (and that was little), butno wrist at all. He had scarcely engaged before he attempted a blindcut over the scalp. The lieutenant, parrying clumsily, but justin time, forced blade and arm upward until the two pointed almostvertically to heaven, and their forearms almost rubbed as the pairstood close and chest to chest. For an instant the staff officer'ssword was actually driven back behind his head; and then with arearward spring the lieutenant disengaged and brought his edge cleandown on his adversary's left shoulder and breast, narrowly missinghis ear. The cut itself, delivered almost in the recoil, had no greatweight behind it, but the blood spurted at once, and the wounded man, stepping back for a fresh guard, swayed foolishly for a moment andthen toppled into my arms. 

"Is it serious?" asked the lieutenant, wiping his sword and looking, it seemed to me, more than a little scared. 

"Wait a moment, " said I, and eased the body to the ground. "Yes, itlooks nasty. And keep back, if you please; he has fainted. "

Being off my guard I said it in very good French, which in hisagitation he luckily failed to remark. 

"I had best fetch help, " said he. 

"Assuredly. "

"I'll run for one of the patrols; we'll carry him back to the town. "

But this would not suit me at all. "No, " I objected, "you must fetchone of your surgeons. Meanwhile I will try to stop the bleeding; but Icertainly won't answer for it if you attempt to move him at once. "

I showed him the wound as he hurried into his tunic. It was a long andugly gash, but (as I had guessed) neither deep nor dangerous. It ranfrom the point of the collar-bone aslant across the chest, and had thelieutenant put a little more drag into the stroke it must infalliblyhave snicked open the artery inside the upper arm. As it was, myimmediate business lay in frightening him off before the bleedingslackened, and my heart gave a leap when he turned and ran out of thepatio, buttoning his tunic as he went. 

It took me ten minutes perhaps to dress the wound and tie a rudebandage; and perhaps another four to pull off coat and shoes and slipinto the staff officer's tunic, pull on his riding boots over my bluecanvas trousers--at a distance scarcely discernible in colour fromhis tight-fitting breeches--and buckle on his sword-belt. I had somedifficulty in finding his cap, for he had tossed it carelessly behindone of the fallen beams, and by this time the light was bad withinthe patio. The horse gave me no trouble, being an old campaigner, nodoubt, and used to surprises. I untethered him and led him gentlyacross the yard, picking my way in a circuit which would take him asfar as possible from his fallen master. But glancing back just beforemounting, to my horror I saw that the wounded man had raised himselfon his right elbow and was staring at me. Our eyes met; what hethought--whether he suspected the truth or accepted the sight as apart of his delirium--I shall never know. The next instant he fellback again and lay inert. 

I passed out into the open. The warning gun must have sounded withoutmy hearing it, for across the meadow the townspeople were retracingtheir way to the town gate, which closed at sunset. At any moment nowthe patrols might be upon me; so swinging myself into the saddle I setoff at a brisk trot towards the gate. 

My chief peril for the moment lay in the chance of meeting thelieutenant on his way back with the doctor; yet I must run thisrisk and ride through the town to the bridge gate, the river beingunfordable for miles to the northward and trending farther and fartheraway from Guarda; and Guarda must be reached at all costs, or byto-morrow Trant's and Wilson's garrisons would have ceased to exist. My heart fairly sank when on reaching the gate I saw an officer intalk with the sentry there, and at least a score of men behind him. Idrew aside; he stepped out and called an order to his company, whichat once issued and spread itself in face of the scattered groups ofcitizens returning across the meadow. 

"Yes, captain, " said the sentry, answering the question in my look, "they are after a spy, it seems, who has been practising here as abarber. They say even the famous McNeill. "

I rode through the gateway and spurred my horse to a trot again, heading him down a side street to the right. This took me somedistance out of my way, but anything was preferable to the risk ofmeeting the lieutenant, and I believed that I had yet some minutes tospare before the second gunfire. 

In this I was mistaken. The gun boomed out just as I came in sight ofthe bridge gate, and the lieutenant of the guard appeared clanking outon the instant to close the heavy doors. I spurred my horse and dasheddown at a canter, hailing loudly:--

"A spy!--a barber fellow; here, hold a minute!"

"Yes, we have had warning half an hour ago. Nobody has passed outsince. "

"At the gate below, " I panted, "they sighted him; and he made for theriver--tried to swim it. Run out your men and bring them along tosearch the bank!"

He began to shout orders. I galloped through the gate and hailed thesentry at the _tête du pont_. "A spy!" I shouted--"in the river. Keepyour eyes open if he makes the bank!"

The fellow drew aside, and I clattered past him with a dozen soldiersat my heels fastening their belts and looking to their muskets as theyran. Once over the bridge I headed to the right again along the leftbank of the river. 

"This way! This way! Keep your eyes open!"

I was safe now. In the rapidly falling dusk, still increasing thedistance between us, I led them down past the town and opposite theastonished patrols on the meadow bank. Even then, when I wheeled tothe left and galloped for the high road, it did not occur to them tosuspect me, nor shall I ever know when first it dawned on them thatthey had been fooled. Certainly not a shot was sent after me, and Isettled down for a steady gallop northward, pleasantly assured ofbeing at least twenty minutes ahead of any effective pursuit. 

I was equally well assured of overtaking the brigades, but mybusiness, of course, was to avoid and get ahead of them. And with thisobject, after an hour's brisk going, I struck a hill-track to the leftwhich, as I remembered (having used it on my journey from Badajoz), atfirst ran parallel with the high road for two miles or more and thencut two considerable loops which the road followed along the valleybottom. 

Recent rains had unloosed the springs on the mountain side and setthem chattering so loudly that I must have reined up at least a scoreof times before I detected the tramp of the brigades in the darknessbelow me. Of the cavalry, though I rode on listening for at leastanother two miles, I could hear no sound. Yet, as I argued, they couldnot be far distant; and I pushed forward with heart elate at theprospect of trumping Marmont's card, for I remembered the staffofficer's words, "on the marshal's return. " I knew that Marmont hadbeen in Sabugal no longer ago than mid-day; and irregular and almostderogatory as it might be thought for a marshal of France to beconducting a night surprise against a half-disciplined horde ofmilitia, I would have wagered my month's pay that this was the fact. 

And then, with a slip of my horse on the stony track, my good fortunesuddenly ended, and smash went my basket of eggs while I counted thechickens. The poor brute with one false step came down heavily on hisnear side. Quick as I was in flinging my foot from the stirrup, I wasjust a moment too late; I fell without injury to bone, but his weightpinned me to earth by the boot, and when I extricated myself it waswith a wrenched ankle. I managed to get him to his feet, but he hadeither dislocated or so severely wrung his near shoulder that he couldscarcely walk a step. It went to my heart to leave him there on themountain side, but it had to be done, for possibly the fate of thegarrison at Guarda depended on it. 

I left him, therefore, and limped forward along the track until ittook an abrupt turn around a shoulder of the mountain. Immediatelybelow me, unless I erred in my bearings, a desolate sheep farm stoodbut a short distance above the high road. Towards this I descended, and finding it with no great difficulty, knocked gently at the backdoor. To my surprise the shepherd opened it almost at once. He wasfully dressed in spite of the lateness of the hour, and seemed greatlyperturbed; nor, I can promise you, was he reassured when, after givinghim the signal arranged between Trant and the peasantry, I followedhim into his kitchen and his eyes fell on my French uniform. 

But it was my turn to be perturbed when, satisfied with myexplanation, he informed me that a body of cavalry had passed alongthe road towards Guarda a good twenty minutes before. It was this hadawakened him. "No infantry?" I asked. 

He shook his head positively. He had been on the watch ever since. Andthis, while it jumped with my own conviction that the infantry was atleast a mile behind me, gave me new hope. I could not understand thisstraggling march, but it was at least reasonable to suppose thatMarmont's horse would wait upon his foot before attempting such aposition as Guarda. 

"I must push on, " said I, and instructed him where to seek for myunfortunate charger. 

He walked down with me to the road. My ankle pained me cruelly. 

"See here, " said he, "the señor had best let me go with him. It is butsix miles, and I can recover the horse in the morning. "

He was in earnest, and I consented. It was fortunate that I did, orI might have dropped in the road and been found or trodden on by theFrench column behind us. 

As it was I broke down after the second mile. The shepherd took me inhis arms like a child and found cover for me below a bank to the leftof the road beside the stream in the valley bottom. I gave him myinstructions and he hurried on. 

Lying there in the darkness half an hour later I heard the tramp ofthe brigade approaching, and lay and listened while they went by. 

I have often, in writing these memoirs, wished I could be inventinginstead of setting down facts. With a little invention only, how Icould have rounded off this adventure! But that is the way with realevents. All my surprising luck ended with the casual stumble of ahorse, and it was not I who saved Guarda, nor even my messenger, butMarmont's own incredible folly. 

When my shepherd reached the foot of the ascent to the fortress heheard a drum beaten suddenly in the darkness above. This single drumkept rattling (he told me) for at least a minute before a score ofothers took up the alarm. There had been no other warning, not so muchas a single shot fired; and even after the drums began there was noconsiderable noise of musketry until the day broke and the shepherdsaw the French cavalry retiring slowly down the hill scarcely 500yards ahead of the Portuguese militia, now pouring forth from thegateway. These were at once checked and formed up in front of thetown, the French still retiring slowly, with a few English dragoonshanging on their heels. A few shots only were exchanged, apparentlywithout damage. The man assured me that the whole 400 or 500 trooperspassed within a hundred yards of him and so down the slope and out ofhis sight. 

What had happened was this: Marmont, impatient at the delay of his twobrigades of infantry (which by some bungle in the starting did notreach the foot of the mountain before daylight), had pushed hishorsemen up the hill and managed to cut off and silence the outpostswithout their firing a shot. Encouraged by this he pressed on to thevery gates of the town, and had actually entered the street when thealarm was sounded--and by whom? By a single drummer whom GeneralTrant, distrusting the watchfulness of his militia, had posted at hisbedroom door! Trant's servant entering with his coffee at daybreakbrought a report that the French were at the gates; the drummer pliedhis sticks like a madman; other drummers all over the town caught uptheir sticks and tattooed away without the least notion of what washappening; the militia ran helter-skelter to their alarm post; and theFrench marshal, who might have carried the town at a single rush andwithout losing a man, turned tail! Such are the absurdities of war. 

But in fancy I sometimes complete the picture and see myself, inFrench staff officer's dress, boldly riding up to the head of theFrench infantry column and in the name of the, Duke of Ragusacommanding its general to halt. True, I did not know thepassword--which might have been awkward. But a staff officer canswagger through some small difficulties, as I had already proved twicethat night. But for the stumble of a horse--who knows? The possibilityseems to me scarcely more fantastic than the accident which actuallysaved Guarda. 

III

THE PAROLE

Marmont's night attack on Guarda, though immediately and evenabsurdly unsuccessful, did, in fact, convince Trant that the hill wasuntenable, and he at once attempted to fall back upon Celorico acrossthe river Mondego, where lay Lord Wellington's magazines and veryconsiderable stores, for the moment quite unprotected. 

Marmont had from four to six thousand horsemen and two brigades ofinfantry. The horse could with the utmost ease have headed Trant offand trotted into Celorico while the infantry fell on him, and but forthe grossest blundering the militia as a fighting force should havebeen wiped out of existence. But blunders dogged Marmont throughoutthis campaign. Trant and Wilson marched their men (with one day'sprovisions only) out of Guarda and down the long slopes toward theriver. Good order was kept for three or four miles, and the head ofthe column was actually crossing by a pretty deep ford when some fortydragoons (which Trant had begged from Bacellar to help him in hisproposed _coup_ upon Sabugal, and which had arrived from Celorico butthe day before) came galloping down through the woods with a squadronof French cavalry in pursuit, and charging in panic through therearguard flung everything into confusion. The day was a rainy one, and the militia, finding their powder wet, ran for the ford likesheep. The officers, however, kept their heads and got the men over, though with the loss of two hundred prisoners. Even so, Marmont mighthave crossed the river on their flank and galloped into Celoricoahead of them. As it was, he halted and allowed the rabble to savethemselves in the town. While blaming his head I must do justice tohis heart and add that, finding what poor creatures he had to dealwith, he forbade his horsemen to cut down the fugitives, and not asingle man was killed. 

Foreseeing that Trant must sooner or later retreat uponCelorico--though ignorant, of course, of what was happening--I wasactually crossing the river at the time by a ford some four milesabove, not in the French staff officer's uniform which I had worn outof Sabugal, but in an old jacket lent me by my friend the shepherd. By the time I reached the town Wilson had swept in his rabble andwas planting his outposts, intending to resist and, if this becameimpossible, to blow up the magazines before retiring. Trant andBacellar with the bulk of the militia were continuing the retreatmeanwhile towards Lamego. 

I need only say here that Wilson's bold front served its purpose. Once, when the French drove in his outposts, he gave the order to firethe powder, and a part of the magazine was actually destroyed whenMarmont (who above all things hated ridicule, and was severely taxingthe respect of his beautiful army by these serio-comic excursionsafter a raw militia) withdrew his troops and retired in an abominabletemper to Sabugal. 

How do I know that Marmont's temper was abominable? By what follows. 

On March 30th I had left my kinsman, Captain Alan McNeill, with hisservant José at Tammanies. They were to keep an eye on the Frenchmovements while I rode south and reported to Lord Wellington atBadajoz. It was now April 16th, and in the meanwhile a great deal hadhappened; but of my kinsman's movements I had heard nothing. At firstI felt sure he must be somewhere in the neighbourhood of Marmont'sheadquarters; but even in Sabugal itself no hint of him could I hear, and at length I concluded that having satisfied himself of the mainlines of Marmont's campaign he had gone off to meet and receive freshinstructions from Wellington, now posting north to save the endangeredmagazines. 

On the evening of the 16th General Wilson sent for me. 

"Here is a nasty piece of news, " said he. "Your namesake is aprisoner. "

"Where?"

"In Sabugal; but it seems he was brought there from the main campabove Penamacor. Trant tells me that you are not only namesakes butkinsmen. Would you care to question the messenger?"

The messenger was brought in--a peasant from the Penamacor district. Out of his rambling tale one or two certainties emerged. McNeill--thecelebrated McNeill--was a prisoner; he had been taken on the 14thsomewhere in the pass above Penamacor, and conveyed to Sabugal toawait the French marshal's return. His servant was dead--killed intrying to escape, or to help his master's escape. So much I siftedout of the mass of inaccuracies. For, as usual, the two McNeills hadmanaged to get mixed up in the story, a good half of which spreaditself into a highly coloured version of my own escape from Sabugal onthe evening of the 13th; how I had been arrested by a French officerin a back shop in the heart of the town; how, as he overhauled myincriminating papers, I had leapt on him with a knife and stabbed himto the heart, while my servant did the same with his orderly; how, having possessed ourselves of their clothes and horses, we had riddenboldly through the gate and southward to join Lord Wellington; and agreat deal more equally veracious. As I listened I began to understandhow legends grow and demigods are made. 

It was flattering; but without attempting to show how I managed todisengage the facts, I will here quote the plain account of them, sentto me long afterwards by Captain Alan himself:--

_Captain Alan McNeill's Statement_. 

"You wish, for use in your _Memoirs_, an account of my capture in themonth of April, 1811, and the death of my faithful servant, José. Iimagine this does not include an account of all our movements from thetime you left us at Tammames (though this, too, I shall be happy tosend if desired), and so I come at once to the 14th, the actual dateof the capture. 

"The preceding night we had spent in the woods below the great Frenchcamp, and perhaps a mile above the mouth of the pass opening onPenamacor. All through the previous day there had been considerablestir in the camp, and I believed a general movement to be impending. Isupposed Marmont himself to be either with the main army or behindin his headquarters at Sabugal, and within easy distance. It neveroccurred to me--nor could it have occurred to any reasonableman--to guess, upon no evidence, that a marshal of France had gonegallivanting with six thousand horse and two brigades of infantry inchase of a handful of undrilled militia. 

"My impression was that his move, if he made one, would be a resolutedescent through Penamacor and upon Castello Branco. As a matter offact, although Victor Alten had abandoned that place to be heldby Lecor and his two thousand five hundred militiamen, the French(constant to their policy of frittering away opportunities) merelysent down two detachments of cavalry to menace it, and I believe thatmy capture was the only success which befel them. 

"Early on the 14th, and about an hour before these troops (dragoonsfor the most part) began to descend the pass, I had posted myself withJosé on one of the lower ridges and (as I imagined) well under coverof the dwarf oaks which grew thickly there. They did indeed screenus admirably from the squadrons I was watching, and they passedunsuspecting within fifty yards of us. Believing them to be but anadvance guard, and that we should soon hear the tramp of the mainarmy, I kept my shelter for another ten minutes, and was prepared tokeep it for another hour, when José--whose eyes missed nothing--caughtme by the arm and pointed high up the hillside behind us. 

"'Scouts!' he whispered. 'They have seen us, sir!'

"I glanced up and saw a pair of horsemen about two gunshots awaygalloping down the uneven ridge towards us, with about a dozen in acluster close behind. We leapt into saddle at once, made off throughthe oaks for perhaps a couple of hundred yards, and then wheelingsharply struck back across the hillside towards Sabugal. We were stillin good cover, but the enemy had posted his men more thickly thanwe had guessed, and by-and-by I crossed a small clearing and rodestraight into the arms of a dragoon. Providentially I came on him witha suddenness which flurried his aim, and though he fired his pistol atme point-blank he wounded neither me nor my horse. But hearing shoutsbehind him in answer to the shot, we wheeled almost right-about andset off straight down the hill. 

"This new direction did not help us, however; for almost at once abugle was sounded above, obviously as a warning to the dragoons at thefoot of the pass, who halted and spread themselves along the lowerslopes to cut us off. Our one chance now lay in abandoning our horsesand crawling deep into the covert of the low oaks where cavalry wouldhave much ado to follow. This we promptly did, and for twenty minuteswe managed to elude them, so that my hopes began to grow. Butunhappily a knot of officers on the ridge above had watched thismanoeuvre through their telescopes, and now detached small parties ofinfantry down either side of the pass to beat the covers. Our hidingplace quickly became too hot, and as we broke cover and dashed acrossanother small clearing we were spied again by those on the ridge, whoshouted to the soldiers and directed the chase by waving their caps. For another ten minutes we baffled them, and then crawling on handsand knees from a thicket where we could hear our enemies not a dozenyards away beating the bushes with the flat of their swords, we cameface to face with a second party advancing straight upon us. I stoodup straight and was on the point of making a last desperate run for itwhen I saw José sink on his face exhausted. 

"'Do not shoot!' I called to the officer. 'We have hurt no man, monsieur. '--For it is, as you know, a fact that in our business Istrongly disapprove of bloodshed, and in all our expeditions togetherJosé had never done physical injury to a living creature. 

"But I was too late. The young officer fired, and though the ballentered my poor servant's skull and killed him on the instant, ahulking fellow beside him had the savagery to complete what wasfinished with a savage bayonet-thrust through the back. 

"I stood still, fully expecting to be used no more humanely, but theofficer lowered his pistol and curtly told me I was his prisoner. Bythis time the fellows had come up from beating the thicket behind andsurrounded me. I therefore surrendered, and was marched up the hillto the camp with poor José's body at my heels borne by a couple ofsoldiers. 

"In all the hurry and heat of this chase I had found time to wonderhow our pursuers happened to be so well posted. For a good fortnightand more--in fact, since my escape across the ford at Huerta--I couldremember nothing that we had done to give the French the slightestinkling that we were watching them or, indeed, were anywhere near. Andyet the affair suggested no casual piece of scouting, but a deliberateplan to entrap somebody of whose neighbourhood they were aware. 

"Nor was this perplexity at all unravelled by the general officer towhose tent they at once conveyed me--a little round white-headed man, Ducrôt by name. He addressed me at once as Captain McNeill, and seemedvastly elated at my capture. 

"'So we have you at last!' he said, regarding me with a jocular smileand a head cocked on one side, pretty much after the fashion of athrush eyeing a worm. 'But, excuse me, after so much finesse it was ablunder--hein?'

"Now _finesse_ is not a word which I should have claimed at any timefor my methods, [A] and I cast about in my memory for the exploit towhich he could be alluding. 

[Footnote A: NOTE BY MANUEL MCNEILL. --Here the captain, in his hurryto pay me a compliment, does himself some injustice. _Finesse_, to besure, was not generally characteristic of his methods, but he used itat times with amazing dexterity, as, for instance, the latter partof this very adventure will prove, if I can ever prevail on him tonarrate it. On the whole I should say that he disapproved of _finesse_much as he disapproved of swearing, but had a natural aptitude forboth. ]

"'It is the mistake of clever men, ' continued General Ducrôt sagely, 'to undervalue their opponents; but surely after yesterday thecommonest prudence might have warned you to put the greatest possibledistance between yourself and Sabugal. '

"'Sabugal?' I echoed. 

"'Oh, my dear sir, _we_ know. It was amusing--eh!--the barber's shop?I assure you I laughed. It was time for you to be taken; for really, you know, you could never have bettered it, and it is not for anartist to wind up by repeating inferior successes. '

"For a moment I thought the man daft. What on earth (I asked myself)was this nonsense about Sabugal and a barber's shop? I had not beennear Sabugal; as for the barber's shop it sounded to me like a pieceout of the childish rigmarole about cutting a cabbage leaf to makean apple pie. Some fleeting suspicion I may have had that here wasanother affair in which you and I had again managed to get confused;but if so the suspicion occurred only to be dismissed. A fortnightbefore you had left me on your way south to Badajoz, and you willown that to connect you with something which apparently had happenedyesterday in a barber's shop in Sabugal was to overstrain guessing. Having nothing to say, I held my tongue; and General Ducrôt put on amore magisterial air. He resented this British phlegm in a prisonerwith whom he had been graciously jocose and fell back on his nationalbelief that we islanders, though occasionally funny, are so by forceof eccentricity rather than by humour. 

"'I do not propose to deal with you myself, ' he announced. 'Atone time and another, sir, you have done our cause an infinity ofmischief, and I prefer that the Duke of Ragusa should decide yourfate. I shall send you therefore to Sabugal to await his return. '

"This gave me my first intimation that Marmont was neither in Sabugalnor with his main army. That same afternoon they marched me off to thetown and set me under guard in a house next door to his headquarters. 

"Marmont returned from Celorico (if my memory serves me) on theafternoon of the 17th. I was taken before him at once. He treatedme with the greatest apparent kindness, hoped I had suffered noill-usage, and wound up by inviting me to dinner. A couple of hourslater I was escorted to headquarters, where, on entering the roomwhere he received his guests, I found him in conversation with a youngstaff officer who wore his arm in a sling. 

"The marshal turned to me at once, and very gaily. 'I understand, 'said he with a smile, 'that I have no need to introduce you to Captainde Brissac. '

"I looked from him to the young officer in some bewilderment, and sawin a moment that Captain de Brissac was certainly not less bewilderedthan I. 

"'But Monsieur le Maréchal--but this is not the man!'

"'Not the man?'

"'Most decidedly not. The man of whom I spoke was dark and not abovemiddle height. He spoke Portuguese like a native, and belonged to aclass altogether different. It would be impossible for this gentlemanto disguise himself so. '

"For a moment Marmont seemed no less puzzled than we. Then he brokeout laughing again. 

"'Ah! of course; that will have been Captain McNeill's servant--thepoor fellow who was killed, ' he added more gravely. 'I am told, sir, that this servant shared and furthered most of your adventures?'

"'He did indeed, M. Le Maréchal, ' said I; 'but excuse me if I am at aloss--'

"The Duke interrupted me by laughing again and laying a hand on myshoulder as an orderly announced dinner. 'Rest easy, my friend, weknow of all your little tricks. ' And at table he amused himself andmore and more befogged me by a precise account of my haunts andmovements. How I had kept a barber's shop in Sabugal under his verynose; what disguises I used (and you know that I never used a disguisein my life); how my servant had assisted M. De Brissac in a duel andafterwards escaped in his uniform--with much more, and all of it newsto me. My astonished face merely excited his laughter; he set it downto my eccentricity. But after dinner, when M. De Brissac had taken hisdeparture, Marmont crossed his handsome legs and came to business. 

"'Sir, ' said he, 'I am going to pay you a compliment. We have sufferedheavily through your cleverness; and although Lord Wellington maychoose to call you a scouting officer, you must be aware (and willforgive me for reminding you) that I might well be excused for callingyou by an uglier name. '

"You may be sure I did not like this. You may also remember how atHuerta on the occasion of our first meeting the question of _disguise_came up between us, and how I assured you that to me, with my Scottishface and accent, a disguise would be worse than useless. Well, thatwas true enough so far as it went; but I fear that in my anxiety notto offend your feelings I spoke less than the whole truth, for I havealways held that in our business as soon as a man resorts to disguisehis work ceases to be legitimate scouting. It may be no lessjustifiable and even more useful, but it is no longer scouting. Iadmit the distinction to be a nice one;[A] and I have sometimes askedmyself, when covering my uniform with my dark riding cloak, 'What, after all, is a disguise?' Nevertheless, I had always observed it, and standing before Marmont now in His Majesty's scarlet, which (as Imight have told him) I had never discarded either to further a planor to avoid a danger, I put some constraint on myself to listen insilence on the merest off-chance that my silence might help an affairwith which the marshal assumed my perfect acquaintance, while I couldonly surmise that somehow you were mixed up in it, and thereforepresumably it aimed at some advantage to our arms. I did keep silence, however, though without so much as a bow to signify that I assented. 

[Footnote A: NOTE BY MANUEL MCNEILL. --I should think so indeed! To methe moral difference, say, between hiding in a truss of hay and hidingunder a wig is not worth discussing outside a seminary. ]

"'But you are a gentleman, ' Marmont continued, 'and I propose to treatyou as one. You will be sent in safe custody to France, and beyondthis I propose to take no revenge on you--but upon one condition. '

"I waited. 

"'The condition is you give me your parole that on your journeythrough Spain to France you not only make no effort to escape, butwill not consent to be rescued should the attempt be made by any ofthe _partidas_ in hope of reward. '

"I considered this for a moment. 'That is not a small thing torequire, since Wellington may be reasonably expected to offer a roundprice for my recapture. '

"The marshal laughed not too pleasantly. 'Truly, ' said he, 'I haveheard that Scotsmen are hard bargainers. But considering that I couldhave you shot out of hand for a spy, I believed I was offering yougenerous terms. '

"Well, that was unfortunately true; so after a few seconds' pause Ianswered, 'Monsieur le Duc, by imposing these terms on me you at anyrate pay me a handsome compliment. I accept it and give you my word. '

"Upon this parole, then, on the 19th I began my journey towards Franceand captivity, escorted only by M. Gérard, a young lieutenant ofdragoons, and one trooper. The rest you know. "

(_Conclusion of Captain McNeill's Statement_. )

As I have said, the bare news of my kinsman's capture and of poorJosé's death reached me at Celorico on the 16th, late in the evening. Knowing that Lord Wellington was by this time well on his waynorthward, and believing that for more than one reason the captain'sfate would concern him deeply--feeling, moreover, some compunction atthe toils I had all innocently helped to wind about an honest man--Iat once sought and obtained leave from General Wilson to ridesouthward to meet the Commander-in-Chief with the tidings, and ifnecessary solicit his help in a rescue. The captain (on this point themessenger was precise) had been taken to Sabugal to await Marmont'sreturn. I did not know that Marmont was actually at that moment on hisway thither, but I thought him at least likely to be returning verysoon. To be sure he might decide to shoot Captain Alan out of hand. Myrecent performances gave him a colourable excuse, unless the prisonercould disassociate himself from these and prove an _alibi_, whichunder the circumstances and without the help of José's evidence hecould scarcely hope to do. I built, however, some faith on Marmont'sknown humanity, of which in his pursuit of the militia he had justgiven striking proof. The longer I weighed the chances the morecertain I became that Marmont would treat him as an ordinary prisonerof war and send him up to France under escort. 

Why, then (the reader may ask), did I lose time in seeking LordWellington instead of making my way at once to the north and doing mybest to incite the _partidas_ to attempt a rescue somewhere on theroad north of Burgos, or even between Valladolid and Burgos? My answeris that such an affair would certainly turn on the question of money. The French held the road right away to the Pyrenees, not so stronglyperhaps as to forbid hope, but strongly enough to make an attempt uponit risky in the extreme. The bands of Mendizabal, Mina, and Merinowere kept busy by Generals Bonnet and Abbé; for a big convoy theymight be counted on to exert themselves, but for a single prisonerthey as certainly had no time to spare without the incitement of sucha reward as only the Commander-in-Chief could offer. 

Accordingly I made my way south to Castello Branco and reached it onthe 18th, to find Lord Wellington arrived there and making ready topush on as soon as overtaken by the bulk of his troops. I had alwayssupposed him to cherish a peculiar liking for my kinsman, but wasfairly astonished by the emotion he showed. 

"Rescued? Of course he must be rescued!" He broke off to use (I mustconfess) some very strong words upon Trant's design against Marmontand the tomfoolery, as he called it, which had taken me into Sabugal, and left a cloud of suspicion hanging over "the best scouting officerin my service; the only man of the lot, sir, who knows his business. "Lord Wellington could, when he lost his temper, be singularly unjust. I strove to point out that my "tomfoolery" in Sabugal had as a matterof fact put a stop to the very scheme of General Trant's which hecondemned. He cut me short by asking if I proposed to argue with him. 

"Ride back, sir. Choose the particular blackguard who can effect yourpurpose, and inform him that on the day he rescues Captain McNeill Iam his debtor for twelve thousand francs. "

The speech was ungracious enough, but the price more than I had daredto hope for. Feeling pretty sure that in his lordship's temper a wordof thanks would merely invite him to consign my several members toperdition, I bowed and left him. Twenty minutes later I was on theroad and galloping north again. 

Before starting from Celorico I had sent the peasant who brought newsof Captain Alan's plight back to Sabugal with instructions to discoverwhat more he could, and bring his report to Bellomonte on my northwardroad not later than the 20th. On the afternoon of the 19th when I rodeinto that place I could hear no news of him. But late in the eveninghe arrived with word that "the great McNeill" had been sent off underescort towards Salamanca. Of the strength of that escort he could tellme nothing, and had very wisely not stayed to inquire; he had pickedup the news from camp gossip and brought it at once, rightly judgingthat time was more valuable to me just now than detailed information. 

His news was doubly cheering; it assured me that my kinsman stilllived, and also that by riding to secure Lord Wellington's help I hadnot missed my opportunity. Yet there was need to hurry, for I had notonly to fetch a long circuit by difficult paths before striking theroad to the Pyrenees, --I had to find the _partidas_, persuade them, and get them on to the road ahead of their quarry. 

I need not describe my journey at length. I rode by Guarda, Almeida, Ledesma, keeping to the north of the main road, and travelling, not byday only, but through the better part of each night. Beyond the fordof Tordesillas, left for the while unguarded, I was in country whereat any moment I might stumble on the guerilla bands, or at least getnews of them. The chiefs most likely for my purpose were "the threeM's"--the curate Merino, Mina and Mendizabal. Of these, the curate wasabout the biggest scoundrel in Spain. I learned on my way that havinglately taken about a hundred prisoners near Aranda, he had hanged thelot, sixty to avenge three members of the local junta put to death bythe French, and the rest in proportion of ten for every soldier of hislost in the action. From dealing with such a blackguard I prayed to bespared. And by all accounts Mina ran him close for brutal ferocity. Ihoped, therefore, for Mendizabal, but at Sedano I heard that Bonnet, after foiling an attack by him on a convoy above Burgos, had beatenhim into the Asturias, where his scattered bands were now shifting asbest they could among the hills. Merino was in no better case, andmy only hope rested on Mina, who after a series of really brilliantoperations, helped out by some lucky escapes, had on the 7th withfive thousand men planted himself in ambush behind Vittoria, cut upa Polish regiment, and mastered the same enormous convoy which hadescaped the curate and Mendizabal at Burgos, releasing no less thanfour hundred Spanish prisoners and enriching himself to the tune ofa million francs, not to speak of carriages, arms, stores, and aquantity of church plate. 

This was no cheerful hearing, since so much in his pocket must needslessen the attractiveness of my offer of twelve thousand francs. And, indeed, when I found him in his camp above the road a little to theeast of Salvatierra his first answer was to bid me go to the devil. Although for months he had only supported his troops on English moneyconveyed through Sir Howard Douglas, this ignorant fellow snapped hisdirty fingers at the mention of Wellington and, flushed with a casualtriumph, had nothing but contempt for the allied troops who weresaving his country while he and his like wasted themselves on futileraids. I can see him now as he sat smoking and dangling his legs on arock in the midst of his unwashed staff officers. 

"For an Englishman, " he scoffed, "I won't say but twelve thousandfrancs is a high price to pay. Unfortunately, it is no price for mytroops to earn. Here am I expecting at any moment a convoy which isdue from the Valencia side, and Lord Wellington asks me to waste mymen and miss my chance for the sake of a single redcoat. He must be afool. "

Said I, nettled, "For a Spaniard you have certainly acquired a raresuit of manners. But may I suggest that their rarity will scarcelyprove worth the cost when your answer comes to Lord Wellington'sears. "

He glared at me for a moment, during which no doubt he weighed thetemptation of shooting me against the probable risk. Then his featuresrelaxed into a grin, and withdrawing the chewed cigarette from histeeth he spat very deliberately on the ground. "The interview, " heannounced, "is ended. "

I took my way down the hillside in no gay mood. I had travelled far;my nerves were raw with lack of sleep. I judged myself at least a dayahead of any convoy with which the captain could be travelling, eventhough it had moved with the minimum of delay. But where in the nexttwo days was I to find the help which Mina had refused? To be sure Ihad caught up at Sedano a flying rumour that the curate Merino hadeluded Bonnet, broken out of the Asturias, and was again menacing theroad above Burgos. I had come across no sign of him on my way, yetcould hit on no more hopeful course than to hark back along the roadon the chance of striking the trail of a man who as likely as not wasa hundred miles away. 

It was about nine in the morning when Mina gave me his answer, and atthree in the afternoon I was scanning the road towards Miranda de Ebrofrom a hill about a mile beyond Arinez (the same hill, in fact, whereGeneral Gazan's centre lay little more than a year afterwards on themorning of the battle of Vittoria). I had been scanning the roadperhaps for ten minutes when my heart gave a jump and my hand, Iam not ashamed to confess, shook on the small telescope. To thesouth-west, between me and Nanclares three horsemen were advancing ata walk, and the rider in the middle wore a scarlet jacket. 

It took me some seconds to get my telescope steady enough for a secondlook, and with that I wheeled my horse, struck spur and posted backtowards Salvatierra as fast as the brute would carry me through theafternoon heat. 

I reached Mina's camp again at nightfall, and found the chief seatedexactly as I had left him, still smoking and still dangling his legs. Were it not that he now wore a cloak against the night air I mighthave supposed him seated there all day without stirring, and the guardwho led me to him promised with a grin that I was dangerously near oneof those peculiar modes of death which his master passed his amiableleisure in inventing. 

At the sight of me Mina's eyebrows went up and he chuckled, "Indeed, "said he, "it has been a dull day, and I have been regretting that Ilet you off so easily this morning. "

"This morning, " I said, "I made you an offer of twelve thousandfrancs. You replied that you considered it too little for the servicesof your army. Perhaps it was; but you will admit it to be pretty fairpay for the services of a couple of men. "

"Hullo!" He eyed me sharply. "What has happened?"

"That, " I answered, "is my secret. Lend me a couple of men, say, forforty-eight hours. In return, on producing this paper, you receivetwelve thousand francs; that is, as soon as Lord Wellington hasassured himself on my report that you received the paper from me anddid as I requested. "

"Two men? This begins to look like business. "

"It _is_ business, " said I curtly. "To your patriotism I should nothave troubled to appeal a second time. "

He warned me to keep a civil tongue in my head; but I knew my man, andwithin half-an-hour I rode out of his camp with two of his choicestruffians, one beside me and one ahead to guide me through thedarkness. 

Now at Vittoria the road towards Irun and the frontier runs almost duenorth for some distance and then bends about in a rough arc towardsthe east. Another road runs almost due east from Vittoria to Pamplona. The first road would certainly be taken by my kinsman and his escort:Mina's camp lay above the second: but, a little way beyond, atAlsasua, a third road of about five leagues joins the two, and by thisshort cut I was certain of heading off our quarry. 

There was no call to hurry. If, as I judged likely, the party meant tosleep the night at Vittoria, I had almost twenty-four hours in hand. So we rode warily, on the look-out for French vedettes, and reachingBeasain a little before two in the morning took up a comfortableposition on the hillside above the junction of the roads. 

At dawn we shifted into better shelter--a shepherd's hut, dilapidatedand roofless--and eked out a long day with tobacco and a greasy packof cards. A few bullock carts passed along the road below us, themost of them bound westward, and perhaps half-a-dozen peasants onmule-back. At about four in the afternoon a French patrol trotted by. As the evening drew on I began to feel anxious. 

A little before sunset I sent off one of my ruffians--Alonsosomething-or-other (I forget his magnificent surname)--to scoutalong the road. He had been gone half-an-hour when his fellow, JuanGallegos, flung down his cards in the dusk--the more readily perhapsbecause he held a weak hand--and pricked up his ears. 

"Horses!" he whispered, and after a pause nodded confidently. "Threehorses!"

We picked up our muskets and crept down towards the road. Halfway downwe met Alonso ascending with the news. Yes, there were three horsemenon this side of Zumarraga and coming at a trot. One of them wore a redcoat. 

"Be careful, then, how you pick them off. The man in red must not behurt; the money depends on that. "

They nodded. Night was now falling fast, yet not so fast but that asthe horsemen came up I could distinguish Captain Alan. He was ridingon the left beside the young French officer, the orderly about sixyards behind. As they came abreast of us Juan let fly, and theorderly's horse pitched forward at once and fell, flinging his man, who struck the road and lay either stunned or dead. At the noise ofthe report the other horses shied violently and separated, thus givingus our chance without danger to the prisoner. Alonso and I firedtogether, and rushed out upon the officer, who groaned in the act ofwheeling upon us. One of the bullets had shattered his sword arm. Within the minute we had him prisoner, the captain not helping us atall. 

"What is this?" he demanded in Spanish, peering at me out of the duskand breaking off to quiet his frightened horse. "What is this, and whoare you?"

"Well, it looks like a rescue, " said I; "and I am your kinsman, ManusMcNeill, and have been at some pains to effect it. "

"You!" he peered at me. "I thank you, " said he, "but you have done abad evening's work. I am on parole, as a man so clever as you mighthave guessed by the size of my escort. "

"We will talk of that later, " I answered, and sent Juan and Alonso offto examine the fallen trooper. "Meanwhile the man here has fainted. Oblige me by helping him a little way up the hill, or by leading hishorse while I carry him. The road here is not healthy. "

Captain Alan followed in silence while I bore my burden up to the hut. Having tethered the horses outside, he entered and stood above mewhile I lit a lantern and examined the young officer's wound. 

"Nothing serious, " I announced, "a fracture of the forearm and maybe asplintered bone. I can fix this up in no time. "

"You had better leave it to me and run, " my kinsman answered. "ThisM. Gérard is an amiable young man and a friend of mine, and I chargemyself to see him safe to Tolosa to-night. What are you doing?"

"Searching for his papers. "

"I forbid it. "

"_Alain mhic Neill_, " said I, "you are not yet the head of our clan. "And I broke the seal of a letter addressed to the Governor of Bayonne. "Ah! I thought as much, " I added, having glanced over the missive. "Itseems, my dear kinsman, that my knowledge of the Duke of Ragusa goesa bit deeper than yours. Listen to this: 'The prisoner I send youherewith is one Captain McNeill, a spy and a dangerous one, who hasdone infinite mischief to our arms. I have not executed him on thespot out of respect to something resembling an uniform which he wears. But I desire you to place him at once in irons and send him up toParis, where he will doubtless suffer as he deserves' . .. "

Captain Alan took the paper from me and perused it slowly, biting hisupper lip the while. "This is very black treachery, " said he. 

"It acquits you at any rate. "

"Of my parole?" He pondered for a moment; then, "I cannot see that itdoes, " he said. "If the Duke of Ragusa chooses to break an impliedbond with me it does not follow that I can break an explicit promiseto him. "

"No? Well, I should have thought it did. "

At once my kinsman put on that stiff pedantic tone which had irritatedme at Huerta. "I venture to think, " said he, "that no McNeill wouldsay so unless he had been corrupted by traffic with the ScarletWoman. "

"Scarlet grandmother!" I broke out. "You seem to forget that I haveridden a hundred leagues to effect this rescue, for which, by the way, Lord Wellington offers twelve thousand francs. I have promised them tothe biggest scoundrel in Spain; but because he happens to be even abigger scoundrel than the Duke of Ragusa must I break my bond with himand let you go to be shot for the sake of your silly punctilio?"

I spoke with heat, and bent over the groaning officer. My kinsmanrubbed his chin. "What you say, " he replied, "demands a somewhatcomplicated answer, or rather a series of answers. In the firstplace, I thank you sincerely for what you have done, and not the lesssincerely because I am going to nullify it. I shall, perhaps, notcheat myself by believing that a clansman's spirit went some way tohelp your zeal"--here I might well have blushed in truth, for it hadnot helped my zeal a peseta. "I thank Lord Wellington, too, for theextravagant price he has set upon my services, and I beg you to conveymy gratitude to him. As for being shot, I might answer that my paroleextends only to the Pyrenees; but I consider myself to have extendedit tacitly to my young friend here, who has treated me with allpossible consideration on the journey; and I shall go to Bayonne. "

He spoke quietly and in the most matter-of-fact voice. But I haveoften thought since of his words; and often when I call up the figureof Marmont in exile at Venice, where, as he strode gloomily along theRiva dei Schiavoni, the very street urchins pointed and cried afterhim, "There goes the man who betrayed Napoleon!" I call up andcontrast with it the figure of this humble gentleman of Scotland inthe lonely hut declining simply and without parade to buy his life atthe expense of a scruple of conscience. 

"But, " he continued, "I fancy I may persuade M. Gérard at least todelay the delivery of that letter, in which case I see my way atleast to a chance of escape. For the rest, these _partidas_ have beenpromised twelve thousand francs for a service which they have dulyrendered. My patrimony is not a rich one, but I can promise that thissum, whether I escape or not, shall be as duly paid. Hush!" he endedas I sprang to my feet, and Juan and Alonso appeared in the doorwaysupporting the trooper, who had only been stunned after all. 

"We did not care to kill him, " Juan explained blandly, "until we hadthe señor's orders. "

"You did rightly, " I answered, and glanced at my kinsman. His jaw wasset. I pulled out a couple of gold pieces for each. "An advance onyour earnings, " said I. "My orders are that you leave the trooper herewith me, ride back instantly to your chief, report that your work hasbeen well done and successfully, and the money for which he holdsan order shall be forwarded as soon as I return and report to LordWellington in Beira. "

MIDSUMMER FIRES

I

In the course of an eventful life John Penaluna did three very rashthings. 

To begin with, at seventeen, he ran away to sea. 

He had asked his father's permission. But for fifty years the smallestate had been going from bad to worse. John's grandfather in thepiping days of agriculture had drunk the profits and mortgagedeverything but the furniture. On his death, John's father (who hadenlisted in a line regiment) came home with a broken knee-pan and amotherless boy, and turned market-gardener in a desperate attempt torally the family fortunes. With capital he might have succeeded. Butmarket-gardening required labour; and he could neither afford to hireit nor to spare the services of a growing lad who cost nothing but hiskeep. So John's request was not granted. 

A week later, in the twilight of a May evening, John was diggingpotatoes on the slope above the harbour, when he heard--away up thefirst bend of the river--the crew of the _Hannah Hands_ brigantinesinging as they weighed anchor. He listened for a minute, stuck hisvisgy into the soil slipped on his coat, and trudged down to theferry-slip. 

Two years passed without word of him. Then on a blue and sunny dayin October he emerged out of Atlantic fogs upon the Market Strand atFalmouth: a strapping fellow with a brown and somewhat heavy face, silver rings in his ears, and a suit of good sea-cloth on his back. Hetravelled by van to Truro, and thence by coach to St. Austell. It wasFriday--market day; and in the market he found his father standingsentry, upright as his lame leg allowed, grasping a specimenapple-tree in either hand. John stepped up to him, took one of theapple-trees, and stood sentry beside him. Nothing was said--not aword until John found himself in the ramshackle market-cart, jogginghomewards. His father held the reins. 

"How's things at home?" John asked. 

"Much as ever. Hester looks after me. "

Hester was John's cousin, the only child of old Penaluna's onlysister, and lately an orphan. John had never seen her. 

"If I was you, " said he, "I'd have a try with borrowed capital. Youcould raise a few hundreds easy. You'll never do anything as you'mgoing. "

"If I was you, " answered his father, "I'd keep my opinions till theywas asked for. "

And so John did, for three years; in the course of which it is tobe supposed he forgot them. When the old man died he inheritedeverything; including the debts, of course. "He knows what I wouldhave him do by Hester, " said the will. It went on: "Also I will notbe buried in consicrated ground, but at the foot of the dufflinapple-tree in the waste piece under King's Walk, and the plainer thebetter. In the swet of thy face shalt thou eat bread, amen. P. S. --Johnknows the tree. "

But since by an oversight the will was not read until after thefuneral, this wish could not be carried out. John resolved to attendto the other all the more scrupulously; and went straight from thelawyer to the kitchen, where Hester stood by the window scouring acopper pan. 

"Look here, " he said, "the old man hasn' left you nothing. "

"No?" said Hester. "Well, I didn't expect anything. " And she went onwith her scouring. 

"But he've a-left a pretty plain hint o' what he wants me to do. "

He hesitated, searching the calm profile of her face. Hester's facewas always calm, but her eyes sometimes terrified him. Everyoneallowed she had wonderful eyes, though no two people agreed abouttheir colour. As a matter of fact their colour was that of the sea, and varied with the sea. And all her life through they were searching, unceasingly searching, for she knew not what--something she never hadfound, never would find. At times, when talking with you, she wouldbreak off as though words were of no use to her, and her eyes had toseek your soul on their own account. And in those silences your soulhad to render up the truth to her, though it could never be the truthshe sought. When at length her gaze relaxed and she remembered andbegged pardon (perhaps with a deprecatory laugh), you sighed; butwhether on her account or yours it was impossible to say. 

John looked at her awkwardly, and drummed with one foot on the limeashfloor. 

"He wanted you to marry me, " he blurted out. "I--I reckon I've wantedthat, too . .. Oh, yes, for a long time!"

She put both hands behind her--one of them still grasped thepolishing-cloth--came over, and gazed long into his face. 

"You mean it, " she said at length. "You are a good man. I like you. Isuppose I must. "

She turned--still with her hands behind her--walked to the window, andstood pondering the harbour and the vessels at anchor and the rooksflying westward. John would have followed and kissed her, but divinedthat she wished nothing so little. So he backed towards the door, andsaid--

"There's nothing to wait for. 'Twouldn't do to be married from thesame house, I expect. I was thinking--any time that's agreeable--ifyou was to lodge across the harbour for awhile, with theMayows--Cherry Mayow's a friend of yours--we could put up the bannsand all shipshape. "

He found himself outside the door, mopping his forehead. 

This was the second rash thing that John Penaluna did. 

II

It was Midsummer Eve, and a Saturday, when Hester knocked at theMayows' green door on the Town Quay. The Mayows' house hung over thetideway, and the _Touch-me-not_ schooner, home that day from Floridawith a cargo of pines, and warped alongside the quay, had her foreyardbraced aslant to avoid knocking a hole in the Mayows' roof. 

A Cheap Jack's caravan stood at the edge of the quay. The Cheap Jackwas feasting inside on fried ham rasher among his clocks and mirrorsand pewter ware; and though it wanted an hour of dusk, his assistantwas already lighting the naphtha-lamps when Hester passed. 

Steam issued from the Mayows' doorway, which had a board across itto keep the younger Mayows from straggling. A voice from the steaminvited her to come in. She climbed over the board, groped along thedusky passage, pushed open a door and looked in on the kitchen, where, amid clouds of vapour, Mrs. Mayow and her daughter Cherry were washingthe children. Each had a tub and a child in it; and three children, already washed, skipped around the floor stark naked, one with a longchurchwarden pipe blowing bubbles which the other two pursued. In thefar corner, behind a deal table, sat Mr. Mayow, and patiently tuned afiddle--a quite hopeless task in that atmosphere. 

"My gracious!" Mrs. Mayow exclaimed, rising from her knees; "if itisn't Hester already! Amelia, get out and dry yourself while I make acup of tea. "

Hester took a step forward, but paused at a sound of dismal bumping onthe staircase leading up from the passage. 

"That's Elizabeth Ann, " said Mrs. Mayow composedly, "or Heber, orboth. We shall know when they get to the bottom. My dear, you must beperishing for a cup of tea. Oh, it's Elizabeth Ann! Cherry, go andsmack her, and tell her what I'll do if she falls downstairs again. It's all Matthew Henry's fault. " Here she turned on the naked urchinwith the churchwarden pipe. "If he'd only been home to his time--"

"I was listening to Zeke Penhaligon, " said Matthew Henry (aged eight). "He's home to-day in the _Touch-me-not_. "

"He's no good to King nor country, " said Mrs. Mayow. 

"He was telling me about a man that got swallowed by a whale--"

"Go away with your Jonahses!" sneered one of his sisters. 

"It wasn't Jonah. This man's name was Jones--_Captain_ Jones, fromDundee. A whale swallowed him; but, as it happened, the whale hadswallowed a cask just before, and the cask stuck in its stomach. Sowhatever the whale swallowed after that went into the cask, and didthe whale no good. But Captain Jones had plenty to eat till he cut hisway out with a clasp-knife--"

"How _could_ he?"

"That's all you know. Zeke _says_ he did. A whale always turns that wayup when he's dying. So Captain Jones cut his way into daylight, when, what does he see but a sail, not a mile away! He fell on his knees--"

"How could he, you silly? He'd have slipped. "

But at this point Cherry swept the family off to bed. Mrs. Mayow, putting forth unexpected strength, carried the tubs out to theback-yard, and poured the soapy water into the harbour. Hester, havingborrowed a touzer, [A] tucked up her sleeves and fell to tidying thekitchen. Mr. Mayow went on tuning his fiddle. It was against hisprinciples to work on a Saturday night. 

[Footnote A: _Tout-serve_, apron. ]

"Your wife seems very strong, " observed Hester, with a shade ofreproach in her voice. 

"Strong as a horse, " he assented cheerfully. "I call it wonnerfulafter what she've a-gone through. 'Twouldn' surprise me, one o' thesedays, to hear she'd taken up a tub with the cheeld in it, and heavedcheeld and all over the quay-door. She's terrible absent in her mind. "

Mrs. Mayow came panting back with a kettleful of water, which she setto boil; and, Cherry now reappearing with the report that all thechildren were safe abed, the three women sat around the fire awaitingtheir supper, and listening to the voice of the Cheap Jack without. 

"We'll step out and have a look at him by-and-by, " said Cherry. 

"For my part, " Mrs. Mayow murmured, with her eyes on the fire, "Inever hear one of those fellers without wishing I had a million ofmoney. There's so many little shiny pots and pans you could go onbuying for ever and ever, just like Heaven!"

She sighed as she poured the boiling water into the teapot. OnSaturday nights, when the children were packed off, a deep peacealways fell upon Mrs. Mayow, and she sighed until bed-time, buildingcastles in the air. 

Their supper finished, the two girls left her to her musings andstepped out to see the fun. The naphtha-lamps flared in Hester's face, and for a minute red wheels danced before her eyes, the din of a gongbattered on her ears, and vision and hearing were indistinguishablyblurred. A plank, like a diving-board, had been run out on trestles infront of the caravan, and along this the assistant darted forwards andbackwards on a level with the shoulders of the good-humoured crowd, his arms full of clocks, saucepans, china ornaments, mirrors, featherbrushes, teapots, sham jewellery. Sometimes he made pretence to slip, recovered himself with a grin on the very point of scattering hisprecious armfuls; and always when he did this the crowd laugheduproariously. And all the while the Cheap Jack shouted or beat hisgong. Hester thought at first there were half-a-dozen Cheap Jacks atleast--he made such a noise, and the mirrors around his glitteringplatform flashed forth so many reflections of him. Trade was alwaysbrisk on Saturday night, and he might have kept the auction goinguntil eleven had he been minded. But he had come to stay for afortnight (much to the disgust of credit-giving tradesmen), andcultivated eccentricity as a part of his charm. In the thickest of thebidding he suddenly closed his sale. 

"I've a weak chest, " he roared. "Even to make your fortunes--which ismy constant joy and endeavour, as you know--I mustn't expose it toomuch to the night air. Now I've a pianner here, but it's not for sale. And I've an assistant here--a bit worn, but he's not for sale neither. I got him for nothing, to start with--from the work'us" (comic protesthere from the assistant, and roars of laughter from the crowd)--"and Itaught him a lot o' things, and among 'em to play the pianner. So as'tis Midsummer's Eve, and I see some very nice-lookin' young women atip-tapping their feet for it, and Mr. Mayow no further away than nextdoor, and able to play the fiddle to the life--what I say is, ladiesand gentlemen, let's light up a fire and see if, with all theirreading and writing, the young folks have forgot how to dance!"

In the hubbub that followed, Cherry caught Hester by the arm andwhispered---

"Why I clean forgot 'twas Midsummer Eve! We'll try our fortun'safterwards. Aw, no need to look puzzled--I'll show 'ee. Here, feyther, feyther!. .. " Cherry ran down the passage and returned, haling forthMr. Mayow with his fiddle. 

And then--as it seemed to Hester, in less than a minute--emptypacking-cases came flying from half-a-dozen doors--from the cooper's, the grocer's, the ship-chandler's, the china-shop, the fruit-shop, the"ready-made outfitter's, " and the Cheap Jack's caravan; were seizedupon, broken up, the splinters piled in a heap, anointed with naphthaand ignited almost before Mr. Mayow had time to mount an empty barrel, tune his "A" string by the piano, and dash into the opening bars ofthe Furry Dance. And almost before she knew it, Hester's hands werecaught, and she found herself one of the ring swaying and leapinground the blaze. Cherry held her left hand and an old waterman herright. The swing of the crowd carried her off her feet, and she hadto leap with the best. By-and-by, as her feet fell into time with themeasure, she really began to enjoy it all--the music, the rush of thecool night air against her temples, even the smell of naphtha and theheat of the flames on her face as the dancers paused now and again, dashed upon the fire as if to tread it out, and backed untilthe strain on their arms grew tense again; and, just as it grewunbearable, the circular leaping was renewed. Always in these pausesthe same face confronted her across the fire: the face of a young manin a blue jersey and a peaked cap, a young man with crisp dark hairand dark eyes, gay and challenging. In her daze it seemed to Hesterthat, when they came face to face, he was always on the side of thebonfire nearest the water; and the moon rose above the farther hill asthey danced, and swam over his shoulder, at each meeting higher andhigher. 

It was all new to her and strange. The music ceased abruptly, thedancers unclasped their hands and fell apart, laughing and panting. And then, while yet she leaned against the Mayows' door-post, thefiddle broke out again--broke into a polka tune; and there, in frontof her stood the young man in the blue jersey and peaked cap. 

He was speaking. She scarcely knew what she answered; but, even whileshe wondered, she had taken his arm submissively. And, next, his armwas about her and she was dancing. She had never danced before; but, after one or two broken paces, her will surrendered to his, her bodyand its movements answered him docilely. She felt that his eyes werefixed on her forehead, but dared not look up. She saw nothing of thecrowd. Other dancers passed and re-passed like phantoms, neitherjostling nor even touching--so well her partner steered. She grewgiddy; her breath came short and fast. She would have begged for arest, but the sense of his mastery weighed on her--held her dumb. Suddenly he laughed close to her ear, and his breath ruffled her hair. 

"You dance fine, " he said. "Shall us cross the fire?"

She did not understand. In her giddiness they seemed to be moving in awide, empty space among many fires, nor had she an idea which was thereal one. His arm tightened about her. 

"Now!" he whispered. With a leap they whirled high and across thebonfire. Her feet had scarcely touched ground before they were offagain to the music--or would have been; but, to her immense surprise, her partner had dropped on his knees before her and was clasping herabout the ankles. She heard a shout. The fire had caught the edge ofher skirt and her frock was burning. 

It was over in a moment. His arms had stifled, extinguished the flamebefore she knew of her danger. Still kneeling, holding her fast, helooked up, and their eyes met. "Take me back, " she murmured, swaying. He rose, took her arm, and she found herself in the Mayows' doorwaywith Cherry at her side. "Get away with you, " said Cherry, "and leaveher to me!" And the young man went. 

Cherry fell to examining the damaged skirt. "It's clean ruined, " shereported; "but I reckon that don't matter to a bride. John Penaluna'llnot be grudging the outfit. I must say, though--you quiet ones!"

"What have I done?"

"Done? Well, that's good. Only danced across the bonfire with youngZeke Penhaligon. Why, mother can mind when that was every bit so goodas a marriage before parson and clerk!--and not so long ago neither. "

III

"You go upstairs backwards, " said Cherry an hour later. "It don'tmatter our going together, only you mustn't speak a word for ever so. You undress in the dark, and turn each thing inside out as you takeit off. Prayers? Yes, you can say your prayers if you like; but toyourself, mind. 'Twould be best to say 'em backwards, I reckon; but Inever heard no instructions about prayers. "

"And then?"

"Why, then you go to sleep and dream of your sweetheart. "

"Oh! is that all?"

"Plenty enough, _I_ should think! I dessay it don't mean much to you;but it means a lot to me, who han't got a sweetheart yet an' don'tknow if ever I shall have one. "

So the two girls solemnly mounted the stairs backwards, undressed inthe dark, and crept into bed. But Hester could not sleep. She lay foran hour quite silent, motionless lest she should awake Cherry, witheyes wide open, staring at a ray of moonlight on the ceiling, and fromthat to the dimity window-curtains and the blind which waved ever sogently in the night breeze. All the while she was thinking of thedance; and by-and-by she sighed. 

"Bain't you asleep?" asked Cherry. 

"No. "

"Nor I. Can't sleep a wink. It's they children overhead: they 'm up tosome devilment, I know, because Matthew Henry isn't snoring. He alwayssnores when he's asleep, and it shakes the house. I'll ha' gone tosee, only I was afeard to disturb 'ee. I'll war'n' they 'm up to somemay-games on the roof. "

"Let me come with you, " said Hester. 

They rose. Hester slipped on her dressing-gown, and Cherry an oldmacintosh, and they stole up the creaking stairs. 

"Oh, you anointed limbs!" exclaimed Cherry, coming to a halt on thetop. 

The door of the children's garret stood ajar. On the landing outside ashort ladder led up to a trapdoor in the eaves, and through the opentrapway a broad ray of moonlight streamed upon the staircase. 

"That's mother again! Now I know where Amelia got that cold in herhead. I'll war'n' the door hasn't been locked since Tuesday!"

She climbed the ladder, with Hester at her heels. They emerged throughthe trap upon a flat roof, where on Mondays Mrs. Mayow spread herfamily "wash" to dry in the harbour breezes. Was that a part of the"wash" now hanging in a row along the parapet?

No; those dusky white objects were the younger members of the Mayowfamily leaning over the tideway, each with a stick and line--fishingfor conger Matthew Henry explained, as Cherry took him by the ear; butElizabeth Jane declared that, after four nights of it, she, for herpart, limited her hopes to shannies. 

Cherry swept them together, and filed them indoors through the trapin righteous wrath, taking her opportunity to box the ears of each. "Come'st along, Hester. "

Hester was preparing to follow, when she heard a subdued laugh. Itseemed to come from the far side of the parapet, and below her. Shedrew her dressing-gown close about her and leaned over. 

She looked down upon a stout spar overhanging the tide, and thencealong a vessel's deck, empty, glimmering in the moonlight; uponmysterious coils of rope; upon the dew-wet roof of a deck-house; upona wheel twinkling with brass-work, and behind it a white-paintedtaffrail. Her eyes were travelling forward to the bowsprit again, when, close by the foremast, they were arrested, and she caught herbreath sharply. 

There, with his naked feet on the bulwarks and one hand against thehouse-wall, in the shadow of which he leaned out-board, stood a man. His other hand grasped a short stick; and with it he was reachingup to the window above him--her bedroom window. The window, sheremembered, was open at the bottom--an inch or two, no more. The manslipped the end of his stick under the sash and prised it up quietly. Next he raised himself on tiptoe, and thrust the stick a foot or sothrough the opening; worked it slowly along the window-ledge, andhesitated; then pulled with a light jerk, as an angler strikes a fish. And Hester, holding her breath, saw the stick withdrawn, inch by inch;and at the end of it a garment--her petticoat!

"How dare you!"

The thief whipped himself about, jumped back upon deck, and stoodsmiling up at her, with the petticoat in his hand. It was the youngsailor she had danced with. 

"How dare you? Oh, I'd be ashamed!"

"Midsummer Eve!" said he, and laughed. 

"Give it up at once!" She dared not speak loudly, but felt herselftrembling with wrath. 

"That's not likely. " He unhitched it from the fish-hook he had splicedto the end of his stick. "And after the trouble I've taken!"

"I'll call your captain, and he'll make you give it up. "

"The old man's sleeping ashore, and won't be down till nine in themorning. I'm alone here. " He stepped to the fore-halliards. "Now I'lljust hoist this up to the topmast head, and you'll see what a prettyflag it makes in the morning. "

"Oh, please. .. !"

He turned his back and began to bend the petticoat on the halliards. 

"No, no . .. Please . .. It's cruel!"

He could hear that she was crying softly; hesitated, and faced roundagain. 

"There now . .. If it teases you so. There wasn' no harm meant. Youshall have it back--wait a moment!"

He came forward and clambered out on the bowsprit, and from thebowsprit to the jib-boom beneath her. She was horribly afraid he wouldfall, and broke off her thanks to whisper him to be careful, at whichhe laughed. Standing there, and holding by the fore-topmast stay, hecould just reach a hand up to the parapet, and was lifting it, butpaused. 

"No, " said he, "I must have a kiss in exchange. "

"Please don't talk like that. I thank you so much. Don't spoil yourkindness. "

"You've spoilt my joke. See, I can hoist myself on the stay here. Bendover as far as you can, I swear you shall have the petticoat at once, but I won't give it up without. "

"I can't. I shall never think well of you again. "

"Oh, yes, you will. Bend lower. "

"Don't!" she murmured, but the moonlight, refracted from the waterbelow, glimmered on her face as she leaned towards him. 

"Lower! What queer eyes you've got. Do you know what it means to kissover running water?" His lips whispered it close to her ear. And withthat, as she bent, some treacherous pin gave way, and her looselyknotted hair fell in dark masses across his face. She heard him laughas he kissed her in the tangled screen of it. 

The next moment she had snatched the bundle and sprung to her feet andaway. But as she passed by the trapdoor and hurriedly retwisted herhair before descending, she heard him there, beyond the parapet, laughing still. 

IV

Three weeks later she married John Penaluna. They spent theirhoneymoon at home, as sober folks did in those days. John could spareno time for holiday-making. He had entered on his duties as master ofHall, and set with vigour about improving his inheritance. His firststep was to clear the long cliff-garden, which had been allowed todrop out of cultivation from the day when he had cast down his mattockthere and run away to sea. It was a mere wilderness now. But he fellto work like a navvy. 

He fought it single-handed. He had no money hire extra labour, andapparently had lost his old belief in borrowed capital, or perhaps hadgrown timid with home-keeping. A single labourer--his father's oldhind--managed the cows and the small farmstead. Hester superintendedthe dairy and the housework, with one small servant-maid at her beckand call. And John tackled the gardens, hiring a boy or two in thefruit-picking season, or to carry water in times of drought. So theylived for two years tranquilly. As for happiness--well, happinessdepends on what you expect. It was difficult to know how much JohnPenaluna (never a demonstrative man) had expected. 

As far as folks could judge, John and Hester were happy enough. Dayafter day, from sunrise to sunset, he fought with Nature in his smallwilderness, and slowly won--hewing, digging, terracing, cultivating, reclaiming plot after plot, and adding it to his conquests. The slopewas sunny but waterless, and within a year Hester could see that hiswhole frame stooped with the constant rolling of barrels and carriageof buckets and waterpots up and down the weary incline. It seemed toher that the hill thirsted continually; that no sooner was its thirstslaked than the weeds and brambles took fresh strength and must bedriven back with hook and hoe. A small wooden summer-house stood inthe upper angle of the cliff-garden. John's father had set it theretwenty years before, and given it glazed windows; for it looked downtowards the harbour's mouth and the open sea beyond. Before his deaththe brambles grew close about it, and level with the roof, choking thepath to it and the view from it. John had spent the best part of afortnight in clearing the ground and opening up the view again. Andhere, on warm afternoons when her house work was over, Hester usuallysat with her knitting. She could hear her husband at work on theterraces below; the sound of his pick and mattock mingled with theclank of windlasses or the tick-tack of shipwrights' mallets, as sheknitted and watched the smoke of the little town across the water, theknots of idlers on the quay, the children, like emmets, tumblingin and out of the Mayows' doorway, the ships passing out to sea orentering the harbour and coming to their anchorage. 

One afternoon in midsummer week John climbed to his wife'ssummer-house with a big cabbage-leaf in his hand, and within thecabbage-leaf a dozen strawberries. (John's strawberries were known bythis time for the finest in the neighbourhood. ) He held his offeringin at the open window, and was saying he would step up to the housefor a dish of cream; but stopped short. 

"Hullo!" said he; for Hester was staring at him rigidly, as white as aghost. "What's wrong, my dear?" He glanced about him, but saw nothingto account for her pallor--only the scorched hillside, alive with thenoise of grasshoppers, the hot air quivering above the bramble-bushes, and beyond, a line of sunlight across the harbour's mouth, and aschooner with slack canvas crawling to anchor on the flood-tide. 

"You--you came upon me sudden, " she explained. 

"Stupid of me!" thought John; and going to the house, fetched not onlya dish of cream but the tea-caddy and a kettle, which they put toboil outside the summer-house over a fire of dried brambles. The tearevived Hester and set her tongue going. "'Tis quite a picnic!" saidJohn, and told himself privately that it was the happiest hour theyhad spent together for many a month. 

Two evenings later, on his return from St. Austell market, he happenedto let himself in by the door of the walled garden just beneath thehouse, and came on a tall young man talking there in the dusk with hiswife. 

"Why, 'tis Zeke Penhaligon! How d'ee do, my lad? Now, 'tis queer, butonly five minutes a-gone I was talkin' about 'ee with your skipper, Nummy Tangye, t'other side o' the ferry. He says you'm goin' up foryour mate's certificate, and ought to get it. Very well he spoke of'ee. Why don't Hester invite you inside? Come'st 'long in to supper, my son. "

Zeke followed them in, and this was the first of many visits. John wasone of those naturally friendly souls (there are many in the world)who never go forth to seek friends, and to whom few friends ever come, and these by accident. Zeke's talk set his tongue running on his ownbrief _Wanderjahre_. And Hester would sit and listen to the pair withheightened colour, which made John wonder why, as a rule, she shunnedcompany--it did her so much good. So it grew to be a settled thingthat whenever the _Touch-me-not_ entered port a knife and fork awaitedZeke up at Hall, and the oftener he came the pleasanter was John'sface. 

V

Three years passed, and in the summer of the third year Captain NummyTangye, of the _Touch-me-not_, relinquished his command. CaptainTangye's baptismal name was Matthias, and Bideford, in Devon, hisnative town. But the _Touch-me-not_, which he had commanded forthirty-five years, happened to carry for figurehead a woodenHighlander holding a thistle close to his chest, and against his thigha scroll with the motto, _Noli Me Tangere_, and this being, in popularbelief, an effigy of the captain taken in the prime of life, Mr. Tangye cheerfully accepted the fiction with its implication ofScottish descent, and was known at home and in various out-of-the-wayparts of the world as Nolim or Nummy. He even carried about a smallvolume of Burns in his pocket; not from any love of poetry, but todemonstrate, when required, that Scotsmen have their own notions ofspelling. 

Captain Tangye owned a preponderance of shares in the _Touch-me-not_, and had no difficulty in getting Zeke (who now held a master'scertificate) appointed to succeed him. The old man hauled ashore to acottage with a green door and a brass knocker and a garden highover the water-side. In this he spent the most of his time with aglittering brass telescope of uncommon length, and in the intervals ofstudying the weather and the shipping, watched John Penaluna at workacross the harbour. 

The _Touch-me-not_ made two successful voyages under Zeke's command, and was home again and discharging beside the Town Quay, when, onesummer's day, as John Penaluna leaned on his pitchfork beside a heapof weeds arranged for burning he glanced up and saw Captain Tangyehobbling painfully towards him across the slope. The old man had onhis best blue cut-away coat, and paused now and then to wipe his brow. 

"I take this as very friendly, " said John. 

Captain Tangye grunted. "P'rhaps 'tis, p'rhaps 'tisn'. Better wait abit afore you say it. "

"Stay and have a bit of dinner with me and the missus. "

"Dashed if I do! 'Tis about her I came to tell 'ee. "

"Yes?" John, being puzzled, smiled in a meaningless way. 

"Zeke's home agen. "

"Yes; he was up here two evenin's ago. "

"He was here yesterday; he'll be here again to-day. He comes here toooften. I've got a telescope, John Penaluna, and I sees what's goin'on. What's more, I guess what'll come of it. So I warn 'ee--as afriend, of course. "

John stared down at the polished steel teeth of his pitchfork, glinting under the noonday sun. 

"As a friend, of course, " he echoed vaguely, still with themeaningless smile on his face. 

"I b'lieve she means to be a good 'ooman; but she's listenin' to'en. Now, I've got 'en a ship up to Runcorn. He shan't sail the_Touch-me-not_ no more. 'Tis a catch for 'en--a nice barquentine, fivehundred tons. If he decides to take the post (and I reckon he will) hestarts to-morrow at latest. Between this an' then there's danger, and'tis for you to settle how to act. "

A long pause followed. The clock across the harbour struck noon, andthis seemed to wake John Penaluna up. "Thank 'ee, " he said. "I thinkI'll be going in to dinner. I'll--I'll consider of it. You've took merather sudden. "

"Well, so long! I mean it friendly, of course. "

"Of course. Better take the lower path; 'tis shorter, an' not so manystones in it. "

John stared after him as he picked his way down the hill; then fell torearranging his heaps of dried rubbish in an aimless manner. He hadforgotten the dinner-hour. Something buzzed in his ears. There was nowind on the slope, no sound in the air. The shipwrights had ceasedtheir hammering, and the harbour at his feet lay still as a lake. Theywere memories, perhaps, that buzzed so swiftly past his ears--trivialrecollections by the hundred, all so little, and yet now immenselysignificant. 

"John, John!"

It was Hester, standing at the top of the slope and calling him. Hestuck his pitchfork in the ground, picked up his coat, and went slowlyin to dinner. 

Next day, by all usage, he should have travelled in to market: but heannounced at breakfast that he was too busy, and would send Robert, the hind in his stead. He watched his wife's face as he said it. Shecertainly changed colour, and yet she did not seem disappointed. Thelook that sprang into those grey eyes of her was more like one ofrelief, or, if not of relief, of a sudden hope suddenly snatched at;but this was absurd, of course. It would not fit in with the situationat all. 

At dinner he said: "You'll be up in the summer-house this afternoon? Ishouldn't wonder if Zeke comes to say good-bye. Tangye says he've gotthe offer of a new berth, up to Runcorn. "

"Yes, I know. "

If she wished, or struggled, to say more he did not seem to observeit, but rose from his chair, stooped and kissed her on the forehead, and resolutely marched out to his garden. He worked that afternoon ina small patch which commanded a view of the ferry and also of the roadleading up to Hall: and at half-past three, or a few minutes later, dropped his spade and strolled down to the edge of his property, a lowcliff overhanging the ferry-slip. 

"Hullo, Zeke!"

Zeke, as he stepped out of the ferry-boat, looked with some confusionon his face. He wore his best suit, with a bunch of sweet-william inhis button-hole. 

"Come to bid us good-bye, I s'pose? We've heard of your luck. Here, scramble up this way if you can manage, and shake hands on yourfortune. "

Zeke obeyed. The climb seemed to fluster him; but the afternoon was ahot one, in spite of a light westerly breeze. The two men moved sideby side across the garden-slope, and as they did so John caught sightof a twinkle of sunshine on Captain Tangye's brass telescope acrossthe harbour. 

They paused beside one of the heaps of rubbish. "This is a fine thingfor you, Zeke. "

"Ay, pretty fair. "

"I s'pose we sha'n't be seein' much of you now. 'Tis like an end ofold times. I reckoned we'd have a pipe together afore partin'. " Johnpulled out a stumpy clay and filled it. "Got a match about you?"

Zeke passed him one, and he struck it on his boot. "There, now, " hewent on, "I meant to set a light to these here heaps of rubbish thisafternoon, and now I've come out without my matches. " He waited forthe sulphur to finish bubbling, and then began to puff. 

Zeke handed him half-a-dozen matches. 

"I dunno how many 'twill take, " said John. "S'pose we go round togetherand light up. 'Twont' take us a quarter of an hour, an' we can talk bythe way. "

Ten minutes later, Captain Tangye, across the harbour, shut histelescope with an angry snap. The smoke of five-and-twenty bonfirescrawled up the hillside and completely hid John Penaluna's garden--hidthe two figures standing there, hid the little summer-house at the topof the slope. It was enough to make a man swear, and Captain Tangyeswore. 

John Penaluna drew a long breath. 

"Well, good-bye and bless 'ee, Zeke. Hester's up in the summer-house. I won't go up with 'ee; my back's too stiff. Go an' make your adoos toher; she's cleverer than I be, and maybe will tell 'ee what we've bothgot in our minds. "

This was the third rash thing that John Penaluna did. 

He watched Zeke up the hill, till the smoke hid him. Then he picked uphis spade. "Shall I find her, when I step home this evening? PleaseGod, yes. "

And he did. She was there by the supper-table? waiting for him. Hereyes were red. John pretended to have dropped something, and went backfor a moment to look for it. When he returned, neither spoke. 

VI

Years passed--many years. Their life ran on in its old groove. 

John toiled from early morning to sunset, as before--and yet not quiteas before. There was a difference, and Captain Tangye would, no doubt, have perceived it long before had not Death one day come on him in aneast wind and closed his activities with a snap, much as he had sooften closed his telescope. 

For a year or two after Zeke's departure, John went on enlarging hisgarden-bounds, though more languidly. Then followed four or five yearsduring which his conquests seemed to stand still. And then little bylittle, the brambles and wild growth rallied. Perhaps--who knows?--theassaulted wilderness had found its Joan of Arc. At any rate, it stoodup to him at length, and pressed in upon him and drove him back. Yearby year, on one excuse or another, an outpost, a foot or two, wouldbe abandoned and left to be reclaimed by the weeds. They were theassailants now. And there came a time when they had him at bay, abeaten man, in a patch of not more than fifty square feet, the centreof his former domain. "Time, not Corydon, " had conquered him. 

He was working here one afternoon when a boy came up the lower pathfrom the ferry, and put a telegram into his hands. He read it over, thought for a while, and turned to climb the old track towards thesummer-house, but brambles choked it completely, and he had to fetch acircuit and strike the grass walk at the head of the slope. 

He had not entered the summer-house for years, but he found Hesterknitting there as usual; and put the telegram into her hands. 

"Zeke is drowned. " He paused and added--he could not help it--"You'llnot need to be looking out to sea any more. "

Hester made as if to answer him, but rose instead and laid a hand onhis breast. It was a thin hand, and roughened with housework. With theother she pointed to where the view had lain seaward. He turned. Therewas no longer any view. The brambles hid it, and must have hidden itfor many years. 

"Then what have you been thinkin' of all these days?"

Her eyes filled; but she managed to say, "Of you, John. "

"It's with you as with me. The weeds have us, every side, each in ourcorner. " He looked at his hands, and with sudden resolution turned andleft her. 

"Where are you going?"

"To fetch a hook. I'll have that view open again before nightfall, ormy name's not John Penaluna. "

CAPTAIN DICK AND CAPTAIN JACKA

A REPORTED TALE OF TWO FRIGATES AND TWO LUGGERS

I dare say you've never heard tell of my wife's grandfather, CaptainJohn Tackabird--or Cap'n Jacka, as he was always called. He was aremarkable man altogether, and he died of a seizure in the Waterlooyear; an earnest Methody all his days, and towards the end a highlyrespected class-leader. To tell you the truth, he wasn't much to lookat, being bald as a coot and blind of one eye, besides other defects. His mother let him run too soon, and that made his legs bandy. Andthen a bee stung him, and all his hair came off. And his eye he lostin a little job with the preventive men; but his lid drooped so, you'dhardly know 'twas missing. He'd a way, too, of talking to himself ashe went along, so that folks reckoned him silly. It was queer how thatmaggot stuck in their heads; for in handling a privateer or a Guernseycargo--sink the or run it straight--there wasn't his master inPolperro. The very children could tell 'ee. 

I'm telling of the year 'five, when the most of the business inPolperro--free-trade and privateering--was managed (as the worldknows) by Mr. Zephaniah Job. This Job he came from St. Ann's--byreason of his having shied some person's child out of a window ina fit of temper--and opened school at Polperro, where he taughtrule-of-three and mensuration; also navigation, though he onlyknew about it on paper. By-and-by he became accountant to all thefree-trade companies and agent for the Guernsey merchants; and at lastblossomed out and opened a bank with 1_l_. And 2_l_. Notes, and biggerones which he drew on Christopher Smith, Esquire, Alderman of London. 

Well, this Job was agent for a company of adventurers called the"Pride o' the West, " and had ordered a new lugger to be built for themdown at Mevagissey. She was called the _Unity_, 160 tons (that wouldbe about fifty as they measure now), mounting sixteen carriage gunsand carrying sixty men, nice and comfortable. She was lying on theways, ready to launch, and Mr. Job proposed to Cap'n Jacka to sailover to Mevagissey and have a look at her. 

Cap'n Jacka was pleased as Punch, of course. He'd quite made up hismind he was to command her, seeing that, first and last, in theold _Pride_ lugger, he had cleared over 40 per cent, for this veryCompany. So they sailed over and took thorough stock of the new craft, and Jacka praised this and suggested that, and carried on quite as ifhe'd got captain's orders inside his hat--which was where he usuallycarried them. Mr. Job looked sidelong down his nose--he was a leggyold galliganter, with stiverish grey hair and a jawbone long enough tomake Cap'n Jacka a new pair of shins--and said he, "What do'ee thinkof her?"

"Well, " said Jacka, "any fool can see she'll run, and any fool can seeshe'll reach. I reckon she'll come about as fast as th' old _Pride_, and if she don't sit nigher the wind than the new revenue cutter it'llbe your sailmaker's fault. "

"That's a first-class report, " said Mr. Job. "I was thinking ofoffering you the post of mate in her. "

Cap'n Jacka felt poorly all of a sudden. "Aw, " he asked, "who's to beskipper, then?"

"The Company was thinkin' of young Dick Hewitt. "

"Aw, " said Cap'n Jacka again, and shut his mouth tight. Young DickHewitt's father had shares in the Company and money to buy votesbeside. 

"What do'ee think?" asked Mr. Job, still slanting his eye down hisnose. 

"I'll go home an' take my wife's opinion, " said Cap'n Jacka. 

So when he got home he told it all to his funny little wife that hedoted on like the apple of his one eye. She was a small, round body, with beady eyes that made her look like a doll on a pen-wiper; and shesaid, of course, that the Company was a parcel of rogues and foolstogether. 

"Young Dick Hewitt is every bit so good a seaman as I be, " said Cap'nJacka. 

"He's a boaster. "

"So he is, but he's a smart seaman for all. "

"I declare if the world was to come to an end you'd sit quiet an'never say a word. "

"I dessay I should. I'd leave you to speak up for me. "

"Baint'ee goin' to say _nothin_', then?"

"Iss; I'm goin' to lay it before the Lord. "

So down 'pon their knees these old souls went upon the limeash, andasked for guidance, and Cap'n Jacka, after a while, stretched outhis hand to the shelf for Wesley's Hymns. They always pitched a hymntogether before going to bed. When he'd got the book in his hand hesaw that 'twasn't Wesley at all, but another that he never studiedfrom the day his wife gave it to him, because it was called the "OnlyHymn Book, "[A] and he said the name was as good as a lie. Hows'ever, he opened it now, and came slap on the hymn:--

[Footnote A: Probably "Olney. "]

 _Tho' troubles assail and dangers affright, If foes all should fail and foes all unite, Yet one thing assures us, whatever betide, I trust in all dangers the Lord will provide_. 

They sang it there and then to the tune of "O all that pass by, " andthe very next morning Cap'n Jacka walked down and told Mr. Job he wasready to go for mate under young Dick Hewitt. 

More than once, the next week or two, he came near to repenting; forCap'n Dick was very loud about his promotion, especially at the ThreePilchards; and when the _Unity_ came round and was fitting--very slow, too, by reason of delay with her letters of marque--he ordered Cap'nJacka back and forth like a stevedore's dog. "There was to be no 'nighenough' on _this_ lugger"--that was the sort of talk; and oil androtten-stone for the very gun-swivels. But Jacka knew the fellow, andeven admired the great figure and its loud ways. "He's a cap'n, anyhow, "he told his wife; "'twon't be 'all fellows to football' while he's incommand. And I've seen him handle the _Good Intent_, under Hockin. "

Mrs. Tackabird said nothing. She was busy making sausages and settingdown a stug of butter for her man's use on the voyage. But he knew shewould be a disappointed woman if he didn't contrive in some honest wayto turn the tables on the Company and their new pet. For days togetherhe went about whistling "Tho' troubles assail . .. "; and the verynight before sailing, as they sat quiet, one each side of the hearth, he made the old woman jump by saying all of a sudden, "Coals o' fire!"

"What d'ee mean by that?" she asked. 

"Nothin'. I was thinkin' to myself, and out it popped. "

"Well, 'tis like a Providence! For, till you said that, I'd cleanforgot the sifter for your cuddy fire. Mustn't waste cinders now thatyou're only a mate. "

Being a woman, she couldn't forego that little dig; but she got upthere and then and gave the old boy a kiss. 

She wouldn't walk down to the quay, though, next day, to see him off, being certain (she said) to lose her temper at the sight of Cap'nDick carrying on as big as bull's beef, not to mention the sneeringshareholders and their wives. So Cap'n Jacka took his congees at hisown door, and turned, half-way down the street, and waved a good-byewith the cinder-sifter. She used to say afterwards that this wasProvidence, too. 

The _Unity_ ran straight across until she made Ushant Light; and aftercruising about for a couple of days, in moderate weather (it being thefirst week in April) Cap'n Dick laid her head east and began to noseup Channel, keeping an easy little distance off the French coast. Yousee, the Channel was full of our ships and neutrals in those days, which made fat work for the French privateers; but the Frenchies' ownvessels kept close over on their coast; and even so, the best our boyscould expect, nine times out of ten when they'd crossed over, was torun against a _chasse-marée_ dodging between Cherbourg and St. Malo orMorlaix, with naval stores or munitions of war. 

However, Cap'n Dick had very good luck. One morning, about threeleagues N. W. Of Roscoff, what should he see but a French privateeringcraft of about fifty tons (new measurement) with an English trader intow--a London brig, with a cargo of all sorts, that had fallen behindher convoy and been snapped up in mid-channel. Cap'n Dick had theweather-gauge, as well as the legs of the French _chasse-marée_. Shewas about a league to leeward when the morning lifted and he firstspied her. By seven o'clock he was close, and by eight had madehimself master of her and the prize, with the loss of two men only andfour wounded, the Frenchman being short-handed, by reason of the crewhe'd put into the brig to work her into Morlaix. 

This was first-rate business. To begin with, the brig (she was calledthe _Martha Edwards_, of London) would yield a tidy little sum forsalvage. The wind being fair for Plymouth, Cap'n Dick sent her intothat port--her own captain and crew working her, of course, and thirtyFrenchmen on board in irons. And at Plymouth she arrived without anymishap. 

Then came the _chasse-marée_. She was called the _Bean Pheasant_, [A]an old craft and powerful leaky; but she mounted sixteen guns, thesame as the _Unity_, and ought to have made a better run from her;but first, she hadn't been able to make her mind to desert her prizepretty well within sight of port; and in the second place her men hada fair job to keep her pumps going. Cap'n Dick considered, and thenturned to old Jacka. 

[Footnote A: Probably _Bienfaisant_. ]

"I'm thinking, " said he, "I'll have to put you aboard with a prizecrew to work her back to Polperro. "

"The Lord will provide, " said Jacka, though he had looked to see alittle more of the fun. 

So aboard he went with all his belongings, not forgetting his wife'ssausages and the stug of butter and the cinder-sifter. Towards the endof the action about fifteen of the Johnnies had got out the brig'slarge boat and pulled her ashore, where, no doubt, they reached, safeand sound. So Jacka hadn't more than a dozen prisoners to look after, and prepared for a comfortable little homeward trip. 

"I'll just cruise between this and Jersey, " said Cap'n Dick; "and atthe week-end, if there's nothing doing, we'll put back for home andre-ship you. "

So they parted; and by half-past ten Cap'n Jacka had laid the _BeanPheasant's_ head north-and-by-west, and was reaching along nicely forhome with a stiff breeze and nothing to do but keep the pumps goingand attend to his eating and drinking between whiles. 

The prize made a good deal of water, but was a weatherly craft for allthat, and on this point of sailing shipped nothing but what she tookin through her seams; the worst of the mischief being forward, whereher stem had worked a bit loose with age and started the bends. Cap'nJacka, however, thought less of the sea--that was working up into anasty lop--than of the weather, which turned thick and hazy as thewind veered a little to west of south. But even this didn't troublehim much. He had sausages for breakfast and sausages for dinner, and, as evening drew on, and he knew he was well on the right side of theChannel, he knocked out his pipe and began to think of sausages fortea. 

Just then one of the hands forward dropped pumping, and sang out thatthere was a big sail on the starboard bow. "I b'lieve 'tis a frigate, sir, " he said, spying between his hands. 

So it was. She had sprung on them out of the thick weather. But nowCap'n Jacka could see the white line on her and the ports quite plain, and not two miles away. 

"What nation?" he bawled. 

"I can't make out as she carries any flag. Losh me! if there bain't_another_!"

Sure as I'm telling you, another frigate there was, likewise standingdown towards them under easy canvas, on the same starboard tack a mileastern, but well to windward of the first. 

"Whatever they be, " said Cap'n Jacka, "they're bound to head us off, and they're bound to hail us. I go get my tea, " he said; "for, ifthey're Frenchmen, 'tis my last meal for months to come. "

So he fetched out his frying-pan and plenty sausages and fried awayfor dear life--with butter too, which was ruinous waste. He sharedround the sausages, two to each man, and kept the _Bean Pheasant_ toher course until the leading frigate fired a shot across her bows, and ran up the red-white-and-blue; and then, knowing the worst, herounded-to as meek as a lamb. 

The long and short of it was that, inside the hour the dozen Frenchmenwere free, and Cap'n Jacka and his men in their place, ironed handand foot; and the _Bean Pheasant_ working back to France again with ayoung gentleman of the French navy aboard in command of her. 

But 'tis better be lucky born, they say, than a rich man's son. Bythis time it was blowing pretty well half a gale from sou'-sou'-west, and before midnight a proper gale. The _Bean Pheasant_ being kept headto sea, took it smack-and-smack on the breast-bone, which was herleakiest spot; and soon, being down by the head, made shocking weatherof it. 'Twas next door to impossible to work the pump forward. Towardsone in the morning old Jacka was rolling about up to his waist as hesat, and trying to comfort himself by singing "Tho' troubles assail, "when the young French gentleman came running with one of his Johnniesand knocked the irons off the English boys, and told them to bebrisk and help work the pumps, or the lugger--that was already hoveto--would go down under them. 

"But where be you going?" he sings out--or French to that effect. ForJacka was moving aft towards the cuddy there. 

Jacka fetched up his best smuggling French, and answered: "This herelugger is going down. Any fool can see that, as you're handling her. And I'm going down on a full stomach. "

With that he reached an arm into the cuddy, where he'd stacked hisprovisions that evening on top of the frying-pan. But the labouring ofthe ship had knocked everything there of a heap, and instead of thefrying-pan he caught hold of his wife's cinder-sifter. 

At that moment the Frenchman ran up behind and caught him a kick. "Come out o' that, you old villain, and fall in at the after pump!"said he. 

"Aw, very well, " said Jack, turning at once--for the cinder-sifter hadgiven him a bright idea; and he went right aft to his comrades. Bythis time the Frenchmen were busy getting the first gun overboard. 

They were so long that Jacka's boys had the after-pump pretty well tothemselves, and between spells one or two ran and fetched buckets, making out 'twas for extra baling; and all seemed to be working likeniggers. But by-and-by they called out all together with one woefulvoice, "The pump is chucked! The pump is chucked!"

At this all the Frenchmen came running, the young officer leading, andcrying to know what was the matter. 

"A heap of cinders got awash, sir, " says Jacka. "The pump's cloggedwi' em, and won't work. "

"Then we're lost men!" says the officer; and he caught hold by theforemast, and leaned his face against it like a child. 

This was Jacka's chance. "'Lost, ' is it? Iss, I reckon you _be_lost!--and inside o' ten minutes, unless you hearken to rayson. Hereyou be, not twenty mile from the English coast, as I make it, and witha fair wind. Here you be, three times that distance and more from anyport o' your own, the wind dead on her nose, and you ram-stamming theweak spot of her at a sea that's knocking the bows to Jericho. Now, Mossoo, you put her about, and run for Plymouth. She may do it. Pitchover a couple of guns forr'ad, and quit messing with a ship you don'tunderstand, an' I'll warn she _will_ do it. "

The young Frenchy was plucky as ginger. "What! Take her into Plymouth, and be made prisoner. I'll sink first!" says he. 

But you see, his crew weren't navy men to listen to him; and they hadwives and families, and knew that Cap'n Jacka's was their only chance. In five minutes, for all the officer's stamping and morblewing theyhad the _Bean Pheasant_ about and were running for the English coast. 

Now I must go back and tell you what was happening to the _Unity_ inall this while. About four in the afternoon Cap'n Dick, not liking thelook of the weather at all, and knowing that, so long as it lasted, hemight whistle for prizes, changed his mind and determined to run backto Polperro, so as to re-ship Cap'n Jacka and the prize crew almostas soon as they arrived. By five o'clock he was well on his way, the_Unity_ skipping along quite as if she enjoyed it; and ran before thegale all that night. 

Towards three in the morning the wind moderated, and by half-past fourthe gale had blown itself out. Just about then the look-out came toCap'n Dick, who had turned in for a spell, and reported two ships'lights, one on each side of them. The chances against their beingFrenchmen, out here in this part of the Channel, were about five totwo; so Cap'n Dick cracked on; and at daybreak--about a quarter afterfive--found himself right slap between the very two frigates that hadcalled Jacka to halt the evening before. 

One was fetching along on the port tack, and the other on the weatherside of him, just making ready to put about. They both ran up thewhite ensign at sight of him; but this meant nothing. And in a fewminutes the frigate to starboard fired a shot across his bows andhoisted her French flag. 

Cap'n Dick feigned to take the hint. He shortened sail and rounded ata nice distance under the lee of the enemy--both frigates now lying-toquite contentedly with their sails aback, and lowering their boats. But the first boat had hardly dropped a foot from the davits whenhe sung out, "Wurroo, lads!" and up again went the _Unity's_ greatlug-sail in a jiffy. The Frenchmen, like their sails, were all aback;and before they could fire a gun the _Unity_ was pinching up towindward of them, with Cap'n Dick at the helm, and all the rest of thecrew flat on their stomachs. Off she went under a rattling shower fromthe enemy's bow-chasers and musketry, and was out of range withouta man hurt, and with no more damage than a hole or two in themizzen-lug. The Frenchmen were a good ten minutes trimming sails andbracing their yards for the chase; and by that time Cap'n Dick hadslanted up well on their weather bow. Before breakfast-time he wasshaking his sides at the sight of seven hundred-odd Johnnies vainlyspreading and trimming more canvas to catch up their lee-way (for atfirst the lazy dogs had barely unreefed courses after the gale, andstill had their topgallant masts housed). Likely enough they had workon hand more important than chasing a small lugger all day; for atseven o'clock they gave up and stood away to the south-east, and leftthe _Unity_ free to head back homeward on her old course. 

'Twas a surprising feat, to slip out of grasp in this way, and pasttwo broadsides, any gun of which could have sent him to the bottom;and Cap'n Dick wasn't one to miss boasting over it. Even during thechase he couldn't help carrying on in his usual loud and cheeky way, waving good-bye to the Mossoos, offering them a tow-rope, and thelike; but now the deck wasn't big enough to hold his swagger, and intheir joy of escaping a French prison, the men encouraged him, so thatto hear them talk you'd have thought he was Admiral Nelson and SirSidney Smith rolled into one. 

By nine o'clock they made out the Eddystone on their starboard bow;and a little after---the morning being bright and clear, with a nicesteady breeze--they saw a sail right ahead of them, making in forPlymouth Sound. And who should it be but the old _Bean Pheasant_, deepas a log! Cap'n Dick cracked along after her, and a picture she was ashe drew up close! Six of her guns had gone; her men were baling in twogangs, and still she was down a bit by the head, and her stern yawinglike a terrier's tail when his head's in a rabbit-hole. And there atthe tiller stood Cap'n Jacka, his bald head shining like a statue offun, and his one eye twinkling with blessed satisfaction as he cockedit every now and then for a glance over his right shoulder. 

"Hullo! What's amiss?" sang out Cap'n Dick, as the _Unity_ fetchedwithin hail. 

"Aw, nothin', nothin'. 'Tho' troubles assail an' dangers'--Stiddythere, you old angletwitch!--She's a bit too fond o' smelling thewind, that's all. "

As a matter of fact she'd taken more water than Jacka cared to thinkabout, now that the danger was over. 

"But what brings 'ee here? An' what cheer wi' _you?_" he asked. 

This was Cap'n Dick's chance. "I've had a run between two Frenchfrigates, " he boasted, "in broad day, an' given the slip to both!"

"Dear, now!" said Cap'n Jacka. "So have I--in broad day, too. Theymust ha' been the very same. What did 'ee take out of 'em?"

"Take! They were two war frigates, I tell 'ee!"

"Iss, iss; don't lose your temper. All I managed to take was thisyoung French orcifer here; but I thought, maybe, that you--having ahandier craft--"

Jacka chuckled a bit; but he wasn't one to keep a joke going forspite. 

"Look-y-here, Cap'n, " he said; "I'll hear your tale when we get intodock, and you shall hear mine. What I want 'ee to do just now is totake this here lugger again and sail along in to Plymouth with her asyour prize. I wants, if possible, to spare the feelin's of this younggentleman, an' make it look that he was brought in by force. For so hewas, though not in the common way. An' I likes the fellow, too, thoughhe do kick terrible hard. "

 * * * * *

They do say that two days later, when Cap'n Jacka walked up to his owndoor, he carried the cinder-sifter under his arm; and that, beforeever he kissed his wife, he stepped fore and hitched it on a nailright in the middle of the wall over the chimney-piece, between JohnWesley and the weather-glass. 

THE POISONED ICE

We were four in the _patio_. And the _patio_ was magnificent, with aterrace of marble running round its four sides, and in the middle afountain splashing in a marble basin. I will not swear to the marble;for I was a boy of ten at the time, and that is a long while ago. But I describe as I recollect. It was a magnificent _patio_, at allevents, and the house was a palace. And who the owner might be, Felipeperhaps knew. But he was not one to tell, and the rest of us neitherknew nor cared. 

The two women lay stretched on the terrace, with their heads closetogether and resting against the house wall. And I sat beside themgnawing a bone. The sun shone over the low eastern wall upon thefountain and upon Felipe perched upon the rim of the basin, with hislame leg stuck out straight and his mouth working as he fastened anail in the end of his beggar's crutch. 

I cannot tell you the hour exactly, but it was early morning, and thedate the twenty-fourth of February, 1671. I learnt this later. We inthe _patio_ did not bother ourselves about the date, for the world hadcome to an end, and we were the last four left in it. For three weekswe had been playing hide-and-seek with the death that had caught andswallowed everyone else; and for the moment it was quite enough forthe women to sleep, for me to gnaw my bone in the shade, and forFelipe to fasten the loose nail in his crutch. Many windows opened onthe _patio_. Through the nearest, by turning my head a little, I couldsee into a noble room lined with pictures and heaped with furnitureand torn hangings. All of it was ours, or might be, for the trouble ofstepping inside and taking possession. But the bone (I had killed adog for it) was a juicy one, and I felt no inclination to stir. Therewas the risk, too, of infection--of the plague. 

"Hullo!" cried Felipe, slipping on his shoe, with the heel of which hehad been hammering. "You awake?"

I put Felipe last of us in order, for he was an old fool. Yet I mustsay that we owed our lives to him. Why he took so much trouble andspent so much ingenuity in saving them is not to be guessed: for thewhole city of Panama comprehended no two lives more worthless than oldDoña Teresa's (as we called her) and mine: and as for the Carmelite, Sister Marta, who had joined our adventures two days before, she, poorsoul, would have thanked him for putting a knife into her and endingher shame. 

But Felipe, though a fool, had a fine sense of irony. And so forthree weeks Doña Teresa and I--and for forty-eight hours Sister Martatoo--had been lurking and doubling, squatting in cellars crawling onroofs, breaking cover at night to snatch our food, all under Felipe'sgeneralship. And he had carried us through. Perhaps he had a softcorner in his heart for old Teresa. He and she were just of an age, the two most careless-hearted outcasts in Panama; and knew eachother's peccadilloes to a hair. I went with Teresa. Heaven knows inwhat gutter she had first picked me up, but for professional ends Iwas her starving grandchild, and now reaped the advantages of thatdishonouring fiction. 

"How can a gentleman sleep for your thrice-accursed hammering?" was myanswer to Felipe Fill-the-Bag. 

"The city is very still this morning, " he observed, sniffing the air, which was laden still with the scent of burnt cedar-wood. "The Englishdogs will have turned their backs on us for good. I heard their buglesat daybreak; since then, nothing. "

"These are fair quarters, for a change. "

He grinned. "They seem to suit the lady, your grandmother. She has notgroaned for three hours. I infer that her illustrious sciatica is nolonger troubling her. "

Our chatter awoke the Carmelite. She opened her eyes, unclasped herhand, which had been locked round one of the old hag's, and sat upblinking, with a smile which died away very pitiably. 

"Good morning, Señorita, " said I. 

She bent over Teresa, but suddenly drew back with a little "Ah!" andstared, holding her breath. 

"What is the matter?"

She was on her knees, now; and putting out a hand, touched Teresa'sskinny neck with the tips of two fingers. 

"What is the matter?" echoed Felipe, coming forward from the fountain. 

"She is dead!" said I, dropping the hand which I had lifted. 

"Jesu--" began the Carmelite, and stopped: and we stared at oneanother, all three. 

With her eyes wide and fastened on mine, Sister Marta felt for thecrucifix and rope of beads which usually hung from her waist. It wasgone: but her hands fumbled for quite a minute before the loss camehome to her brain. And then she removed her face from us and benther forehead to the pavement. She made no sound, but I saw her feetwrithing. 

"Come, come, " said Felipe, and found no more to say. 

I can guess now a little of what was passing through her unhappy mind. Women are women and understand one another. And Teresa, unclean andabandoned old hulk though she was, had stood by this girl when shecame to us flying out of the wrack like a lost ship. "Dear, dear, dear"--I remembered scraps of her talk--"the good Lord is debonair, and knows all about these things. He isn't like a man, as you mightsay": and again, "Why bless you, He's not going to condemn you for amatter that I could explain in five minutes. 'If it comes to that, ' Ishould say--and I've often noticed that a real gentleman likes you allthe better for speaking up--'If it comes to that, Lord, why didYou put such bloody-minded pirates into the world?' Now to mythinking"--and I remember her rolling a leaf of tobacco as she saidit--"it's a great improvement to the mind to have been through thebattle, whether you have won or lost; and that's why, when on earth, He chose the likes of us for company. "

This philosophy was not the sort to convince a religious girl: but Ibelieve it comforted her. Women are women, as I said; and when theship goes down a rotten plank is better than none. So the Carmelitehad dropped asleep last night with her hand locked round Teresa's: andso it happened to Teresa this morning to be lamented, and sincerelylamented, by one of the devout. It was almost an edifying end; and theprospect of it, a few days ago, would have tickled her hugely. 

"But what did she die of?" I asked Felipe, when we had in delicacywithdrawn to the fountain, leaving the Carmelite alone with her grief. 

He opened his mouth and pointed a finger at it. 

"But only last evening I offered to share my bone with her: and shetold me to keep it for myself. "

"Your Excellency does not reason so well as usual, " said Felipe, without a smile on his face. "The illustrious defunct had a greataffection for her grandchild, which caused her to overlook theambiguity of the relationship--and other things. "

"But do you mean to say--"

"She was a personage of great force of character, and of some virtueswhich escaped recognition, being unusual. I pray, " said he, liftingthe rim of his rusty hat, "that her soul may find the last peace!I had the honour to follow her career almost from the beginning. Iremember her even as a damsel of a very rare beauty: but even then asI say, her virtues were unusual, and less easily detected than herfailings. I, for example, who supposed myself to know her thoroughly, missed reckoning upon her courage, or I had spent last night inseeking food. I am a fool and a pig. "

"And consequently, while we slept--"

"Excuse me, I have not slept. "

"You have been keeping watch?"

"Not for the buccaneers, my Lord. They left before daybreak. But thedogs of the city are starving, even as we: and like us they have takento hunting in company. Now this is a handsome courtyard, but the gatedoes not happen to be too secure. "

I shivered. Felipe watched me with an amiable grin. 

"But let us not, " he continued, "speak contemptuously of ourinheritance. It is, after all, a very fair kingdom for three. CaptainMorgan and his men are accomplished scoundrels, but careless:they have not that eye for trifles which is acquired in our nobleprofession, and they have no instinct at all for hiding-places. Iassure you this city yet contains palaces to live in, linen and silverplate to keep us comfortable. Food is scarce, I grant, but we shallhave wines of the very first quality. We shall live royally. But, alas! Heaven has exacted more than its tithe of my enjoyment. I hadlooked forward to seeing Teresa in a palace of her own. What a queenshe would have made, to be sure!"

"Are we three the only souls in Panama?"

Felipe rubbed his chin. "I think there is one other. But he is aphilosopher, and despises purple and linen. We who value them, withinreason, could desire no better subject. " He arose and treated me toa regal bow. "Shall we inspect our legacy, my brother, and makearrangements for the coronation?"

"We might pick up something to eat on the way, " said I. 

Felipe hobbled over to the terrace. "Poor old ----, " he muttered, touching the corpse with his staff, and dwelling on the vile word withpondering affection. "Señorita, " said he aloud, "much grief is notgood on an empty stomach. If Juan here will lift her feet--"

We carried Doña Teresa into the large cool room, and laid her on acouch. Felipe tore down the silken hangings from one of the windowsand spread them over her to her chin, which he tied up with the yellowkerchief which had been her only headgear for years. The Carmelitemeanwhile detached two heavy silver sconces from a great candelabrumand set them by her feet. But we could find no tinder-box to light thecandles--big enough for an altar. 

"She will do handsomely until evening, " said Felipe, and added underhis breath, "but we must contrive to fasten the gate of the _patio_. "

"I will watch by her, " said Sister Marta. 

Felipe glanced at us and shook his head. I knew he was thinking ofthe dogs. "That would not do at all, Señorita. 'For the living, theliving, ' as they say. If we live, we will return this evening andattend to her; but while my poor head remains clear (and Heaven knowshow long that will be) there is more important work to be done. "

"To bury the dead--"

"It is one of the Seven Corporal Acts of Mercy, Señorita, and it wonRaphael to the house of Tobit. But in this instance Raphael shutshimself up and we must go to him. While Teresa lived, all was well:but now, with two lives depending on my wits, and my wits not to bedepended on for an hour, it does not suit with my conscience to losetime in finding you another protector. "

"But _they--they_ have gone?"

"The Lutheran dogs have gone, and have taken the city's victuals withthem. "

"I do not want to live, my friend. "

"Granted: but I do not think that Juanito, here, is quite of yourmind. "

She considered for a moment. "I will go with you, " she said: and wequitted the _patio_ together. 

The gate opened upon a narrow alley, encumbered now with charred beamsand heaps of refuse from a burnt house across the way. The fury of thepirates had been extravagant, but careless (as Felipe had said). Intheir lust of robbing, firing, murdering, they had followed no system;and so it happened that a few houses, even wealthy ones, stood intact, like islands, in the general ruin. For the most part, to be sure, there were houses which hid their comfort behind mean walls. But onceor twice we were fairly staggered by the blind rage which had passedover a mansion crowded with valuables and wrecked a dozen poorhabitations all around it. The mischief was that from such housesFelipe, our forager, brought reports of wealth to make the mouthwater, but nothing to stay the stomach. The meat in the larders wasputrid; the bread hard as a stone. We were thankful at last for a feworanges, on which we snatched a breakfast in an angle of ruined wallon the north side of the Cathedral, pricking up our ears at the bayingof the dogs as they hunted their food somewhere in the northernsuburbs. 

I confess that the empty houses gave me the creeps, staring down at mewith their open windows while I sucked my orange. In the rooms behindthose windows lay dead bodies, no doubt: some mutilated, some swollenwith the plague (for during a fortnight now the plague had been busy);all lying quiet up there, with the sun staring in on them. Each windowhad a meaning in its eye, and was trying to convey it. "If you couldonly look through me, " one said. "The house is empty--come upstairsand see. " For me that was an uncomfortable meal. Felipe, too, had lostsome of his spirits. The fact is, we had been forced to step aside topass more than one body stretched at length or huddled in the roadway, and--well, I have told you about the dogs. 

Between the Cathedral and the quays scarcely a house remained: for thewhole of this side of the city had been built of wood. But beyond thissmoking waste we came to the great stone warehouses by the waterside, and the barracks where the Genoese traders lodged their slaves. Theshells of these buildings stood, but every one had been gutted andthe roofs of all but two or three had collapsed. We picked our waycircumspectly now, for here had been the buccaneers' headquarters. But the quays were as desolate as the city. Empty, too, were the longstables where the horses and mules had used to be kept for conveyingthe royal plate from ocean to ocean. Two or three poor beasts lay intheir stalls--slaughtered as unfit for service; the rest, no doubt, were carrying Morgan's loot on the road to Chagres. 

Here, beside the stables, Felipe took a sudden turn to the right andstruck down a lane which seemed to wind back towards the city betweenlong lines of warehouses. I believe that, had we gone forward anotherhundred yards, to the quay's edge, we should have seen or heard enoughto send us along that lane at the double. As it was, we heard nothing, and saw only the blue bay, the islands shining green under the thinline of smoke blown on the land breeze--no living creature betweenus and them but a few sea-birds. After we had struck into the lane Iturned for another look, and am sure that this was all. 

Felipe led the way down the lane for a couple of gunshots; theCarmelite following like a ghost in her white robes, and I close ather heels. He halted before a low door on the left; a door of themost ordinary appearance. It opened by a common latch upon a cobbledpassage running between two warehouses, and so narrow that the wallsalmost met high over our heads. At the end of this passage--which wasperhaps forty feet long--we came to a second door, with a grille, and, hanging beside it, an iron bell-handle, at which Felipe tugged. 

The sound of the bell gave me a start, for it seemed to come from justbeneath my feet. Felipe grinned. 

"Brother Bartolomé works like a mole. But good wine needs no bush, myJuanito, as you shall presently own. He takes his own time, though, "Felipe grumbled, after a minute. "It cannot be that--"

He was about to tug again when somebody pushed back the little shutterbehind the grille, and a pair of eyes (we could see nothing of theface) gazed out upon us. 

"There is no longer need for caution, reverend father, " said Felipe, addressing the grille. "The Lutheran dogs have left the city, and wehave come to taste your cordial and consult with you on a matter ofbusiness. "

We heard a bolt slid, and the door opened upon a pale emaciated faceand two eyes which clearly found the very moderate daylight too muchfor them. Brother Bartolomé blinked without ceasing, while he shieldedwith one hand the thin flame of an earthenware lamp. 

"Are you come all on one business?" he asked, his gaze passing fromone to another, and resting at length on the Carmelite. 

"When the forest takes fire, all beasts are cousins, " said Felipesententiously. Without another question the friar turned and led theway, down a flight of stairs which plunged (for all I could tell) intothe bowels of earth. His lamp flickered on bare walls upon which thespiders scurried. I counted twenty steps, and still all below us wasdark as a pit; ten more, and I was pulled up with that peculiar andhighly disagreeable jar which everyone remembers who has put forwarda foot expecting a step, and found himself suddenly on the level. Thepassage ran straight ahead into darkness: but the friar pushed open alow door in the left-hand wall, and, stepping aside, ushered us into aroom, or paved cell, lit by a small lamp depending by a chain from thevaulted roof. 

Shelves lined the cell from floor to roof; chests, benches, andwork-tables occupied two-thirds of the floor-space: and all werecrowded with books, bottles, retorts, phials, and the apparatus ofa laboratory. "Crowded, " however, is not the word; for at a secondglance I recognised the beautiful order that reigned. The dealwork-benches had been scoured white as paper; every glass, every metalpan and basin sparkled and shone in the double light of the lamp andof a faint beam of day conducted down from the upper world by a kindof funnel and through a grated window facing the door. 

In this queer double light Brother Bartolomé faced us, afterextinguishing the small lamp in his hand. 

"You say the pirates have left?"

Felipe nodded. "At daybreak. We in this room are all who remain inPanama. "

"The citizens will be returning, doubtless, in a day or two. I haveno food for you, if that is what you seek. I finished my last crustyesterday. "

"That is a pity. But we must forage. Meanwhile, reverend father, atouch of your cordial--"

Brother Bartolomé reached down a bottle from a shelf. It was heavilysealed and decorated with a large green label bearing a scarlet cross. Bottles similarly sealed and labelled lined this shelf and a dozenothers. He broke the seal, drew the cork, and fetched three glasses, each of which he held carefully up to the lamplight. Satisfied oftheir cleanliness, he held the first out to the Carmelite. She shookher head. 

"It is against the vow. "

He grunted and poured out a glassful apiece for Felipe and me. Thefirst sip brought tears into my eyes: and then suddenly I was filledwith sunshine--golden sunshine--and could feel it running from limb tolimb through every vein in my small body. 

Felipe chuckled. "See the lad looking down at his stomach! Button yourjacket, Juanito; the noonday's shining through! Another sip, to thereverend father's health! His brothers run away--the Abbot himselfruns: but Brother Bartolomé stays. For he labours for the good of man, and that gives a clear conscience. Behold how just, after all, arethe dispositions of Heaven: how blind are the wicked! For three weeksthose bloody-minded dogs have been grinning and running about thecity: and here under their feet, as in a mine, have lain the two mostprecious jewels of all--a clear conscience and a liquor which, upon myfaith, holy father, cannot be believed in under a second glass. "

Brother Bartolomé was refilling the glass, when the Carmelite touchedhis arm. 

"You have been here--all the while?"

"Has it been so long? I have been at work, you see. "

"For the good of man, " interrupted Felipe. "Time slips away when oneworks for the good of man. "

"And all the while you were distilling this?"

"This--and other things. "

"Other things to drink?"

"My daughter, had they caught me, they might have tortured me. I mighthave held my tongue: but, again, I might not. Under torture one neverknows what will happen. But the secret of the liquor had to die withme--that is in the vow. So to be on the safe side I made--otherthings. "

"Father, give me to drink of those other things. "

She spoke scarcely above her breath: but her fingers were gripping hisarm. He looked straight into her eyes. 

"My poor child!" was all he said, very low and slow. 

"I can touch no other sacrament, " she pleaded. "Father, have mercy andgive me that one!" She watched his eyes eagerly as they flinchedfrom hers in pity and dwelt for a moment on a tall chest behind hershoulder, against the wall to the right of the door. She glancedround, stepped to the chest, and laid a hand on the lid. "Is it here?"she asked. 

But he was beside her on the instant; and stooping, locked down thelid, and drew out the key abruptly. 

"Is it here?" she repeated. 

"My child, that is an ice-chest. In the liquor, for perfection, thewater used has first to be frozen. That chest contains ice, andnothing else. "

"Nothing else?" she persisted. 

But here Felipe broke in. "The Señorita is off her hinges, father. Much fasting has made her light-headed. And that brings me to mybusiness. You know my head, too, is not strong: good enough for afurlong or two, but not for the mile course. Now if you will shelterthese two innocents whilst I forage we shall make a famous household. You have rooms here in plenty; the best-hidden in Panama. But noneof us can live without food, and with these two to look after I amhampered. There are the dogs, too. But Felipe knows a trick or twomore than the dogs, and if he do not fill your larder by sunset, mayhis left leg be withered like his right!"

Brother Bartolomé considered. "Here are the keys, " said he. "Chooseyour lodgings and take the boy along with you, for I think the sisterhere wishes to talk with me alone. "

Felipe took the keys and handed me the small lamp, which I held aloftas he limped after me along the dark corridor, tapping its flaggedpavement with the nail of his crutch. We passed an iron-studded doorwhich led, he told me, to the crypt of the chapel; and soon aftermounted a flight of steps and found ourselves before the great foldingdoors of the ante-chapel itself, and looked in. Here was daylightagain: actual sunlight, falling through six windows high up in thesouthern wall and resting in bright patches on the stall canopieswithin. We looked on these bright patches through the interspaces of agreat carved screen: but when I would have pressed into the chapel fora better view, Felipe took me by the collar. 

"Business first, " said he, and pointed up the staircase, which mountedsteeply again after its break by the chapel doors. Up we went, andwere saluted again by the smell of burnt cedar-wood wafted throughlancet windows, barred but unglazed, in the outer wall. The inner wallwas blank, of course, being the northern side-wall of the chapel:but we passed one doorway in it with which I was to make betteracquaintance. And, about twenty steps higher, we reached a long levelcorridor and the cells where the brothers slept. 

Felipe opened them one by one and asked me to take my choice. All wereempty and bare, and seemed to me pretty much alike. 

"We have slept in worse, but that is not the point. Be pleased toremember, Juanito, that we are kings now: and as kings we are bound tofind the reverend fathers' notions of bedding inadequate. Suppose youcollect us half-a-dozen of these mattresses apiece, while I go on andexplore. "

I chose three cells for Sister Marta, Felipe, and myself, and setabout dragging beds and furniture from the others to make us reallycomfortable. I dare say I spent twenty minutes over this, and, whenall was done, perched myself on a stool before the little window of myown bed-room, for a look across the city. It was a very little windowindeed, and all I saw was a green patch beyond the northern suburbs, where the rich merchants' gardens lay spread like offerings before abroken-down shrine. Those trees no doubt hid trampled lawns and ruinedverandahs: but at such a distance no scar could be seen. The suburbslooked just as they had always looked in early spring. 

I was staring out of window, so, and just beginning to wonder whyFelipe did not return as he had promised, when there came ringingup the staircase two sharp cries, followed by a long, shrill, blood-freezing scream. 

My first thought (I cannot tell you why) was that Felipe must havetumbled downstairs: and without any second thought I had jumped off mychair and was flying down to his help, three stairs at a bound, whenanother scream and a roar of laughter fetched me up short. The laughwas not Felipe's; nor could I believe it Brother Bartolomé's. In factit was the laugh of no one man, but of several. The truth leapt on mewith a knife, as you might say. The buccaneers had returned. 

I told you, a while back, of a small doorway in the inner wall ofthe staircase. It was just opposite this door that I found myselfcowering, trying to close my ears against the abhorrent screams whichfilled the stairway and the empty corridor above with their echoes. Tocrawl out of sight--had you lived through those three weeks in Panamayou would understand why this was the only thought in my head, and whymy knees shook so that I actually crawled on them to the little door, and finding that it opened easily, crept inside and shut it beforelooking about me. 

But even in the act of shutting it I grew aware that the screams andlaughter were louder than ever. And a glance around told me that Iwas not in a room at all, but in the chapel, or rather in a galleryoverlooking it, and faced with an open balustrade. 

As I crouched there on my knees, they could not see me, nor could Isee them; but their laughter and their infernal jabber--for thesebuccaneers were the sweepings of half-a-dozen nations--came to my earsas distinct as though I stood among them. And under the grip of terrorI crawled to the front of the gallery and peered down between itstwisted balusters. 

I told you, to start with, that Felipe was a crazy old fool: and Idare say you have gathered by this time what shape his craziness took. He had a mania for imagining himself a great man. For days together hemight be as sane as you or I; and then, all of a sudden--a chance wordwould set him off--he had mounted his horse and put on all the airs ofthe King of Spain, or his Holiness the Pope, or any grandissimoyou pleased, from the Governor of Panama upwards. I had known thatmorning, when he began to prate about our being kings, that the crustof his common-sense was wearing thin. I suppose that after leaving mehe must have come across the coffers in which the Abbot kept his robesof state, and that the sight of them started his folly with a twist;for he lay below me on the marble floor of the chapel, arrayed likea prince of the Church. The mitre had rolled from his head; but thefolds of a magnificent purple cope, embroidered with golden liliesand lined with white silk, flowed from his twisted shoulders over theblack and white chequers of the pavement. And he must have dressedhimself with care, too: for beneath the torn hem of the alb his feetand ankles stirred feebly, and caught my eye: and they were clad insilken stockings. He was screaming no longer. Only a moan came atintervals as he lay there, with closed eyes, in the centre of thatring of devils: and on the outer edge of the ring, guarded, stoodBrother Bartolomé and the Carmelite. Had we forgotten or been toocareless to close the door after us when Brother Bartolomé let us in?I tried to remember, but could not be sure. 

The most of the buccaneers--there were eight of them--spoke noSpanish: but there was one, a cross-eyed fellow, who acted asinterpreter. And he knelt and held up a bundle of keys which Felipewore slung from a girdle round his waist. 

"Once more, Master Abbot--will you show us your treasures, or will younot?"

Felipe moaned. 

"I tell you, " Brother Bartolomé spoke up, very short and distinct, "there are no treasures. And if there were, that poor wretch could notshow them. He is no Abbot, but a beggar who has lived on charity thesetwenty years to my knowledge. "

"That tongue of yours, friar, needs looking to. I promise you to cutit out and examine it when I have done with your reverend father here. As for the wench at your side--"

"You may do as your cruelty prompts you, Brother Bartoloméinterrupted. But that man is no Abbot. "

"He may be Saint Peter himself, and these the keys of Heaven and Hell. But I and my camarados are going to find out what they open, as sureas my name is Evan Evans. " And he knotted a cord round Felipe'sforehead and began to twist. The Carmelite put her hands over hereyes and would have fallen: but one of her guards held her up, whileanother slipped both arms round her neck from behind and held hereyelids wide open with finger and thumb. I believe--I hope--thatFelipe was past feeling by this time, as he certainly was past speech. He did not scream again, and it was only for a little while that hemoaned. But even when the poor fool's head dropped on his shoulder, and the life went out of him, they did not finish with the corpseuntil, in their blasphemous sport, they had hoisted it over the altarand strapped it there with its arms outstretched and legs dangling. 

"Now I think it is your turn, " said the scoundrel Evans, turning toBrother Bartolomé with a grin. 

"I regret that we cannot give you long, for we returned from Tavogathis morning to find Captain Morgan already on the road. It will savetime if you tell us at once what these keys open. "

"Certainly I will tell you, " said the friar, and stretched out a handfor the bunch. "This key for instance, is useless: it opens the doorof the wicket by which you entered. This opens the chest which, as arule, contains the holy vessels; but it too, is useless, since thechest is empty of all but the silver chalices and a couple of patens. Will you send one of your men to prove that I speak truth? This, again, is the key of my own cell--"

"Where your reverence entertains the pretty nuns who come forabsolution. "

"After that, " said Brother Bartolomé, pointing a finger towardsthe altar and the poor shape dangling, "you might disdain smallbrutalities. "

The scoundrel leaned his back against a carved bench-end and noddedhis head slowly. "Master friar, you shall have a hard death. "

"Possibly. This, as I was saying, is the key of my cell, where Idecoct the liquor for which this house is famous. Of our present stockthe bulk lies in the cellars, to which this"--and he held up yetanother key--"will admit you. Yes, that is it, " as one of the piratesproduced a bottle and held it under his nose. 

"Eh? Let me see it. " The brute Evans snatched the bottle. "Is this thestuff?" he demanded, holding it up to the sunlight which streameddown red on his hand from the robe of a martyr in one of the paintedwindows above. He pulled out his heavy knife, and with the back of itknocked off the bottle-neck. 

"I will trouble you to swear to the taste, " said he. 

"I taste it only when our customers complain. They have not complainednow for two-and-twenty years. "

"Nevertheless you will taste it. "

"You compel me?"

"Certainly I compel you. I am not going to be poisoned if I can helpit. Drink, I tell you!"

Brother Bartolomé shrugged his shoulders. "It is against the vow . .. But, under compulsion . .. And truly I make it even better than Iused, " he wound up, smacking his thin lips as he handed back thebottle. 

The buccaneer took it, watching his face closely. "Here's death to thePope!" said he, and tasted it, then took a gulp. "The devil, but it ishot!" he exclaimed, the tears springing into his eyes. 

"Certainly, if you drink it in that fashion. But why not try it withice?"

"Ice?"

"You will find a chestful in my cell. Here is the key; which, by theway, has no business with this bunch. Felipe, yonder, who was alwayslight-fingered, must have stolen it from my work-bench. "

"Hand it over. One must go to the priests to learn good living. Here, Jacques le Bec!" He rattled off an order to a long-nosed fellow at hiselbow, who saluted and left the chapel, taking the key. 

"We shall need a cup to mix it in, " said Brother Bartolomé quietly. 

One of the pirates thrust the silver chalices into his hands: for thebottle had been passed from one man to another, and they were thirstyfor more. Brother Bartolomé took it, and looked at the Carmelite. For the moment nobody spoke: and a queer feeling came over me in myhiding. This quiet group of persons in the quiet chapel--it seemed tome impossible they could mean harm to one another, that in a minute ortwo the devil would be loose among them. There was no menace in theposture of any one of them, and in Brother Bartolomé's there wascertainly no hint of fear. His back was towards me, but the Carmelitestood facing my gallery, and I looked straight into her eyes as theyrested on the cups, and in them I read anxiety indeed, but not fear. It was something quite different from fear. 

The noise of Jacques le Bec's footstep in the ante-chapel broke thisodd spell of silence. The man Evans uncrossed his legs and took a paceto meet him. "Here, hand me a couple of bottles. How much will thecups hold?"

"A bottle and a half, or thereabouts: that is, if you allow for theice. "

Jacques carried the bottles in a satchel, and a block of ice in awrapper under his left arm. He handed over the satchel, set down theice on the pavement and began to unwrap it. At a word from Evans hefell to breaking it up with the pommel of his sword. 

"We must give it a minute or two to melt, " Evans added. And again asilence fell, in which I could hear the lumps of ice tinkling as theyknocked against the silver rims of the chalices. 

"The ice is melted. Is it your pleasure that I first taste this also?"Brother Bartolomé spoke very gravely and deliberately. 

"I believe, " sneered Evans, "that on these occasions the religious arethe first to partake. "

The friar lifted one of the chalices and drank. He held it to his lipswith a hand that did not shake at all; and, having tasted, passedit on to Evans without a word or a glance. His eyes were on theCarmelite, who had taken half a step forward with palms held sidewiseto receive the chalice he still held in his right hand. He guided itto her lips, and his left hand blessed her while she drank. Almostbefore she had done, the Frenchman, Jacques le Bec, snatched it. 

The Carmelite stood, swaying. Brother Bartolomé watched the cups asthey went full circle. 

Jacques le Bec, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, spoke aword or two rapidly in French. 

Brother Bartolomé turned to Evans. "Yes, I go with you. For you, mychild!"--He felt for his crucifix and held it over the Carmelite, whohad dropped on her knees before him. At the same time, with his lefthand, he pointed towards the altar. "For these, the mockery of theCrucified One which themselves have prepared!"

I saw Evans pull out his knife and leap. I saw him like a man shot, drop his arm and spin right-about as two screams rang out from thegallery over his head. It must have been I who screamed: and to me, now, that is the inexplicable part of it. I cannot remember utteringthe screams: yet I can see Evans as he turned at the sound of them. 

Yet it was I who screamed, and who ran for the door and, stillscreaming, dashed out upon the staircase. Up the stairs I ran: alongthe corridor: and up a second staircase. 

The sunshine broke around me. I was on the leads of the roof, andPanama lay spread at my feet like a trodden garden. I listened: nofootsteps were following. Far away from the westward came the notesof a bugle--faint, yet clear. In the northern suburbs the dogs werebaying. I listened again. I crept to the parapet of the roof and sawthe stained eastern window of the chapel a few yards below me, saw itspainted saints and martyrs, outlined in lead, dull against the noondayglow. And from within came no sound at all. 

D'ARFET'S VENGEANCE

_The Story is Told by Dom Bartholomew Perestrello, Governor of theIsland of Porto Santo_. 

It was on the fifteenth day of August, 1428, and about six o'clock inthe morning, that while taking the air on the seaward side of my houseat Porto Santo, as my custom was after breaking fast, I caught sightof a pinnace about two leagues distant, and making for the island. 

I dare say it is commonly known how I came to the governance of PortoSanto, to hold it and pass it on to my son Bartholomew; how I sailedto it in the year 1420 in company with the two honourable captainsJohn Gonsalvez Zarco and Tristram Vaz; and what the compact was whichwe made between us, whereby on reaching Porto Santo these two left mebehind and passed on to discover the greater island of Madeira. Andmany can tell with greater or less certainty of our old pilot, the Spaniard Morales, and how he learned of such an island in hiscaptivity on the Barbary coast. Of all this you shall hear, andperhaps more accurately, when I come to my meeting with theEnglishman. But I shall tell first of the island itself, and what weremy hopes of it on the morning when I sighted his pinnace. 

In the first warmth of discovering them we never doubted thatthese were the Purple Islands of King Juba, the very Garden of theHesperides, found anew by us after so many hundreds of years; or thatwe had aught to do but sit still in our governments and grow richwhile we feasted. But that was in the year 1420, and the eight yearsbetween had made us more than eight years sadder. In the other islandthe great yield of timber had quickly come to an end: for Count Zarco, returning thither with wife and children in the month of May, 1421, and purposing to build a city, had set fire to the woods behind thefennel-fields on the south coast, with intent to clear a way up to thehills in the centre: and this fire quickly took such hold on the massof forest that not ten times the inhabitants could have mastered it. And so the whole island burned for seven years, at times with a heatwhich drove the settlers to their boats. For seven years as surely asnight fell could we in Porto Santo count on the glare of it across thesea to the south-west, and for seven years the caravels of our princeand master, Dom Henry, sighted the flame of it on their way southwardto Cape Bojador. 

In all this while Count Zarco never lost heart; but, when the timberbegan to fail, planted his sugar-canes on the scarcely cooled ashes, and his young plants of the Malmsey vine--the one sent from Sicily, the other from Candia, and both by the care of Dom Henry. While helives it will never be possible to defeat my friend and old comrade:and he and I have both lived to see his island made threefold richerby that visitation which in all men's belief had clean destroyed it. 

This planting of vines and sugar-canes began in 1425, the same yearin which the Infante gave me colonists for Porto Santo. But if I hadlittle of Count Zarco's merit, it is certain I had none of his luck:for on my small island nothing would thrive but dragon-trees; and wehad cut these in our haste before learning how to propagate them, sothat we had at the same moment overfilled the market with their gum, or "dragon's blood, " and left but a few for a time of better prices. And, what was far worse, at the suggestion surely of Satan I hadturned three tame rabbits loose upon the island; and from the one doewere bred in two or three years so many thousands of these pestilentcreatures that when in 1425 we came to plant the vines and canes, notone green shoot in a million escaped. Thus it happened that by 1428 mykingdom had become but a barren rock, dependent for its revenues uponthe moss called the orchilla weed of which the darker and better kindcould be gathered only by painful journeys inland. 

You may see, therefore, that I had little to comfort me as I pacedbefore my house that morning. I was Governor of an impoverished rockon which I had wasted the toil and thought of eight good years of myprime: my title was hereditary, but I had in those days no son toinherit it. And when I considered the fortune I had exchanged forthis, and my pleasant days in Dom Henry's service at Sagres, I accusedmyself for the most miserable among men. 

Now, at the north-western angle of my house, and a little below theterrace where I walked, there grew a plantation of dragon-trees, oneof the few left upon the island. Each time this sentry-walk of minebrought me back to the angle I would halt before turning and eye thetrees, sourly pondering on our incredible folly. For, on my firstcoming they had grown everywhere, and some with trunks great enoughto make a boat for half a dozen men: but we had cut them down for allkinds of uses, whenever a man had wanted wood for a shield or a bushelfor his corn, and now they scarce grew fruit enough to fatten thehogs. It was standing there and eyeing my dragon-trees that over thetops of them I caught sight of the pinnace plying towards the island. I remember clearly what manner of day it was; clear and fresh, thesea scarce heaving, but ruffled under a southerly breeze. The smallvessel, though well enough handled, made a sorry leeway by reason ofher over-tall sides, and lost so much time at every board through thelabour of lowering and rehoisting her great lateen yard that I judgedit would take her three good hours before she came to anchor in theport below. 

I could not find that she had any hostile appearance, yet--as my dutywas--sent down word to the guard to challenge her business beforeadmitting her; and a little before nine o'clock I put on my coatand walked down to the haven to look after this with my own eyes. Iarrived almost at the moment when she entered and her crew, with sailpartly lowered, rounded her very cleverly up in the wind. 

The guard-boat put off at once and boarded her; and by-and-by cameback with word that the pinnace was English (which by this time I hadguessed), by name the _George of Bristol_, and owned by an Englishmanof quality, who, by reason of his extreme age, desired of my courtesythat I would come on board and confer with him. This at first I wasunwilling to risk: but seeing her moored well under the five guns ofour fort, and her men so far advanced with the furling of her big sailthat no sudden stroke of treachery could be attempted except to herdestruction, I sent word to the gunners to keep a brisk look-out, andstepping into the boat was pulled alongside. 

At the head of the ladder there met me an aged gentleman, lean andbald and wrinkled, with narrow eyes and a skin like clear vellum. Forall the heat of the day he wore a furred cloak which reached to hisknees; also a thin gold chain around his neck: and this scrag neck andthe bald head above it stood out from his fur collar as if they hadbeen a vulture's. By his dress and the embroidered bag at his girdle, and the clasps of his furred shoes, I made no doubt he was a rich man;and he leaned on an ebony staff or wand capped with a pretty device ofivory and gold. 

He stood thus, greeting me with as many bobs of the head as a birdmakes when pecking an apple; and at first he poured out a string ofsalutations (I suppose) in English, a language with which I have nofamiliarity. This he perceived after a moment, and seemed not a littlevexed; but covering himself and turning his back shuffled off to adoor under the poop. 

"Martin!" he called in a high broken voice. "Martin!"

A little man of my own country, very yellow and foxy, came runningout, and the pair talked together for a moment before advancingtowards me. 

"Your Excellency, " the interpreter began, "this is a gentleman ofEngland who desires that you will dine with him to-day. His name isMaster Thomas d'Arfet, and he has some questions to put to you, ofyour country, in private. "

"D'Arfet?" I mused: and as my brows went up at the name I caught theold gentleman watching me with an eye which was sharp enough withinits dulled rim. "Will you answer that I am at his service, but on theone condition that he comes ashore and dines with _me_. "

When this was reported at first Master d'Arfet would have none of it, but rapped his staff on the desk and raised a score of objections inhis scolding voice. Since I could understand none of them, I addedvery firmly that it was my rule; that he could be carried up to myhouse on a litter without an ache of his bones; and, in short, that Imust either have his promise or leave the ship. 

He would have persisted, I doubt not; but it is ill disputing throughan interpreter, and he ended by giving way with a very poor grace. Soashore we rowed him with the man Martin, and two of my guard conveyedhim up the hill in a litter, on which he sat for all the world like apeevish cross'd child. In my great airy dining-room he seemed to cooldown and pick up his better humour by degrees. He spoke but littleduring the meal, and that little was mainly addressed to Martin, whostood behind his chair: but I saw his eyes travelling around thepanelled walls and studying the portraits, the furniture, the neattable, the many comforts which it clearly astonished him to find onthis forsaken island. Also he as clearly approved of the food and ofmy wine of Malmsey. Now and then he would steal a look at my wifeBeatrix, or at one or the other of my three daughters, and again gazeout at the sea beyond the open window, as though trying to piece itall together into one picture. 

But it was not until the womenfolk had risen and retired that heunlocked his thoughts to me. And I hold even now that his firstquestion was a curious one. 

"Dom Bartholomew Perestrello, are you a happy man?"

Had it come from his own lips it might have found me better prepared:but popped at me through the mouth of an interpreter, a servant who(for all his face told) might have been handing it on a dish, hisquestion threw me out of my bearings. 

"Well, Sir, " I found myself answering, "I hope you see that I havemuch to thank God for. " And while this was being reported to him Irecalled with a twinge my dejected thoughts of the morning. "I havemade many mistakes, " I began again. 

But without seeming to hear, Master d'Arfet began to dictate toMartin, who, after a polite pause to give me time to finish if I caredto, translated in his turn. 

"I have told you my name. It is Thomas d'Arfet, and I come fromBristol. You have heard my name before?"

I nodded, keeping my eyes on his. 

"I also have heard of you, and of the two captains in whose companyyou discovered these islands. "

I nodded again. "Their names, " said I, "are John Gonsalvez Zarcoand Tristram Vaz. You may visit them, if you please, on the greaterisland, which they govern between them. "

He bent his head. "The fame of your discovery, Sir, reached Englandsome years ago. I heard at the time, and paid it just so much heed asone does pay to the like news--just so much and no more. The _manner_of your discovery of the greater island came to my ears less than atwelvemonth ago, and then but in rumours and broken hints. Yet heream I, close on my eightieth year, voyaging more than half across theworld to put those broken hints together and resolve my doubts. Tell me"--he leaned forward over the table, peering eagerly into myeyes--"there was a tale concerning the island--concerning a formerdiscovery--"

"Yes, " said I, as he broke off, his eyes still searching mine, "therewas a tale concerning the island. "

"Brought to you by a Spanish pilot, who had picked it up on theBarbary coast?"

"You have heard correctly, " said I. "The pilot's name was Morales. "

"Well, it is to hear that tale that I have travelled across the worldto visit you. "

"Ah, but forgive me, Sir!" I poured out another glassful of wine, drewup my chair, rested both elbows on the table, and looked at him overmy folded hands. "You must first satisfy me what reason you have forasking. "

"My name is Thomas d'Arfet, " he said. 

"I do not forget it: but maybe I should rather have said--What aim youhave in asking. I ought first to know that, methinks. "

In his impatience he would have leapt from his chair had his old limbsallowed. Pressing the table with white finger-tips, he sputtered someangry words of English, and then fell back on the interpreter Martin, who from first to last wore a countenance fixed like a mask. 

"Mother of Heaven, Sir! You see me here, a man of eighty, broken ofwind and limb, palsied, with one foot in the grave: you know what itcosts to fit out and victual a ship for a voyage: you know as well asany man, and far better than I, the perils of these infernal seas. Ibrave those perils, undergo those charges, drag my old limbs thesethousands of miles from the vault where they are due to rest--and youask me if I have any reason for coming!"

"Not at all, " I answered. "I perceive rather that you must have anextraordinarily strong reason--a reason or a purpose clean beyond mypower of guessing. And that is just why I wish to hear it. "

"Men of my age--" he began, but I stopped Martin's translation midway. 

"Men of your age, Sir, do not threaten the peace of such islands asthese. Men of your age do not commonly nurse dangerous schemes. Allthat I can well believe. Men of your age, as you say, do not chase awild goose so far from their chimney-side. But men of your age arealso wise enough to know that governors of colonies--ay, " for my wordswere being interpreted to him a dozen at a time and I saw the sneergrow on his face, "even of so poor a colony as this--do not give upeven a small secret to the very first questioner. "

"But the secret is one no longer. Even in England I had word of it. "

"And your presence here, " said I, "is proof enough that you learnedless than you wanted. "

He drew his brows together over his narrow eyes. I think what firstset me against the man was the look of those eyes, at once malevolentand petty. You may see the like in any man completely ungenerous. Alsothe bald skin upon his skull was drawn extremely tight, while theflesh dropped in folds about his neck and under his lean chaps, andthe longer I pondered this the more distasteful I found him. 

"You forget, Sir, " said he--and while Martin translated he stillseemed to chew the words--"the story is not known to you only. I canyet seek out the pilot himself. "

"Morales? He is dead these three years. "

"Your friends, then, upon the greater island. Failing them, I can yetput back to Lagos and appeal to the Infante himself--for doubtless heknows. Time is nothing to me now. " He sat his chin obstinately, andthen, not without nobility, pushed his glass from him and stood up. "Sir, " said he, "I began by asking if you were a happy man. I am amost unhappy one, and (I will confess) the unhappier since you havemade it clear that you cannot or will not understand me. In my youtha great wrong was done me. You know my name, and you guess whatthat wrong was: but you ask yourself, 'Is it possible this old manremembers, after sixty years?' Sir, it is possible, nay, certain;because I have never for an hour forgotten. You tell yourself, 'Itcannot be this only: there must be something behind. ' There is nothingbehind; nothing. I am the Thomas d'Arfet whose wife betrayed him justsixty years ago; that, and no more. I come on no State errand, I!I have no son, no daughter; I never, to my knowledge, possessed afriend. I trusted a woman, and she poisoned the world for me. Iacknowledge in return a duty to no man but myself; I have voyaged thusfar out of that duty. You, Sir, have thought it fitter to baffle thanto aid me--well and good. But by the Christ above us I will followthat duty out; and, at the worst, death, when it comes, shall find mepursuing it!"

He spoke this with a passion of voice which I admired before hisman began to interpret: and even when I heard it repeated in levelPortuguese, and had time to digest it and extract its monstrousselfishness, I could look at him with compassion, almost with respect. His cheeks had lost their flush almost as rapidly as they had taken iton, and he stood awkwardly pulling at his long bony fingers until thejoints cracked. 

"Be seated, Sir, " said I. "It is clear to me that I must be a farhappier man than I considered myself only this morning, since I findnothing in myself which, under any usage of God, could drive me onsuch a pursuit as yours would seem to be. I may perhaps, withouthypocrisy, thank God that I cannot understand you. But this, atany rate, is clear--that you seek only a private satisfaction: andalthough I cannot tell you the story here and now, something I willpromise. As soon as you please I will sail with you to the greaterisland, and we will call together on Count Zarco. In his keeping liesone of the two copies of Morales' story as we took it down from hislips at Sagres, or, rather, compiled it after much questioning. Itshall be for the Count to produce or withhold it, as he may decide. He is a just man, and neither one way nor the other will I attempt tosway him. "

Master d'Arfet considered for a while. Then said he, "I thank you: butwill you sail with me in my pinnace or in your own?"

"In my own, " said I, "as I suspect you will choose to go in yours. I promise we shall outsail you; but I promise also to await yourarriving, and give the Count his free choice. If you knew him, " Iadded, "you would know such a promise to be superfluous. "

II

My own pinnace arrived in sight of Funchal two mornings later, and alittle after sunrise. We had outsailed the Englishman, as I promised, and lay off-and-on for more than two hours before he came up with us. I knew that Count Zarco would be sitting at this time in the sunshinebefore his house and above the fennel plain, hearing complaints andadministering justice: I knew, moreover, that he would recognise mypinnace at once: and from time to time I laughed to myself to thinkhow this behaviour of ours must be puzzling my old friend. 

Therefore I was not surprised to find him already arrived at thequay when we landed; with a groom at a little distance holding hismagnificent black stallion. For I must tell you that my friend wasever, and is to this day, a big man in all his ways--big of stature, big of voice, big of heart, and big to lordliness in his notions ofbecoming display. None but Zarco would have chosen for his title, "Count of the Chamber of the Wolves, " deriving it from a cave wherehis men had started a herd of sea-calves on his first landing andtaking seizin of the island. And the black stallion he rode whenanother would have been content with a mule; and the spray of fennelin his hat; and the ribbon, without which he never appeared among hisdependents; were all a part of his large nature, which was guilelessand simple withal as any child's. 

Now, for all my dislike, I had found the old Englishman a personof some dignity and command: but it was wonderful how, in Zarco'spresence, he shrank to a withered creature, a mere applejack withoutjuice or savour. The man (I could see) was eager to get to businessat once, and could well have done without the ceremony of which Zarcowould not omit the smallest trifle. After the first salutations camethe formal escort to the Governor's house; and after that a meal whichlasted us two hours; and then the Count must have us visit his newsugar-mills and inspect the Candia vines freshly pegged out, anddiscuss them. On all manner of trifles he would invite Masterd'Arfet's opinion: but to show any curiosity or to allow his guests tosatisfy any, did not belong to his part of host--a part he playedwith a thoroughness which diverted me while it drove the Englishmanwell-nigh mad. 

But late in the afternoon, and after we had worked our way through asecond prodigious meal, I had compassion on the poor man, and taking(as we say) the bull by both horns, announced the business which hadbrought us. At once Zarco became grave. 

"My dear Bartholomew, " said he, "you did right, of course, to bringMaster d'Arfet to me. But why did you show any hesitation?" Before Icould answer he went on: "Clearly, as the lady's husband, he has aright to know what he seeks. She left him: but her act cannot annulany rights of his which the Holy Church gave him, and of which, untilhe dies, only the Holy Church can deprive him. He shall see Morales'statement as we took it down in writing: but he should have the storyfrom the beginning: and since it is a long one, will you begin andtell so much as you know?"

"If it please you, " said I, and this being conveyed to Master d'Arfet, while Zarco sent a servant with his keys for the roll of parchment, wedrew up our chairs to the table, and I began. 

"It was in September, 1419, " said I, "when the two captains, JohnGonsalvez Zarco and Tristram Vaz, returned to Lagos from their firstadventure in these seas. I was an equerry of our master, the InfanteHenry, at that time, and busy with him in rebuilding and enlarging theold arsenal on the neck of Cape Sagres; whence, by his wisdom, so manyexpeditions have been sent forth since to magnify God and increase theknowledge of mankind. 

"We had built already the chapel and the library, with its map-room, and the Prince and I were busy there together on the plans for hisobservatory in the late afternoon when the caravels were sighted: andthe news being brought, his Highness left me at work while he rodedown to the port to receive his captains. I was still working bylamplight in the map-room when he returned, bringing them and a thirdman, the old Spaniard Morales. 

"Seating himself at the table, he bade me leave my plans, draw mychair over, and take notes in writing of the captains' report. Zarcotold the story--he being first in command, and Tristram Vaz a silentman, then and always: and save for a question here and there, thePrince listened without comment, deferring to examine it until thewhole had been related. 

"Now, in one way, the expedition had failed, for the caravels had beensent to explore the African coast beyond Cape Bojador, and as farsouth as might be; whereas they had scarcely put to sea before atempest drove them to the westward, and far from any coast at all. Indeed, they had no hope left, nor any expectation but to founder, when they sighted the island; and so came by God's blessing to theharbour which, in their joy, they named Porto Santo. There, findingtheir caravels strained beyond their means to repair for a longvoyage, and deeming that this discovery well outweighed their firstpurpose, they stayed but a sufficient time to explore the island, andso put back for Lagos. But their good fortune was not yet at an end:for off the Barbary coasts they fell in with and captured a Spaniardcontaining much merchandise and two score of poor souls ransomed outof captivity with the Barbary corsairs. 'And among them, ' said myfriend Gonsalvez, 'your Highness will find this one old man, if Imistake not, to be worth the charges of two such expeditions as ours. '

"Upon this we all turned our eyes upon the Spaniard, who had beenshrinking back as if to avoid the lamplight. He must have been atall, up-standing man in his prime; but now, as Tristram Vaz drew himforward, his knees bowed as if he cringed for some punishment. 'Twasa shock, this fawning carriage of a figure so venerable: but whenTristram Vaz drew off the decent doublet he wore and displayed hisback, we wondered no longer. Zarco pushed him into a chair and helda lamp while the Prince examined the man's right foot, where anankle-ring had bitten it so that to his death (although it scarcelyhindered his walking) the very bone showed itself naked between thehealed edges of the wound. 

"Moreover, when Zarco persuaded him to talk in Spanish it was somewhile before we could understand more than a word or two here andthere. The man had spent close upon thirty years in captivity, and hisnative speech had all but dried up within him. Also he had no longerany thought of difference between his own country and another: it wasenough to be among Christians again: nor could we for awhile disengagethat which was of moment from the rambling nonsense with which hewrapped it about. He, poor man! was concerned chiefly with hisown sufferings, while we were listening for our advantage: yet asChristians we forbore while he muttered on, and when a word or twofell from him which might be of service, we recalled him to them (Ibelieve) as gently as we could. 

"Well, the chaff being sifted away, the grain came to this: His namewas Morales, his birthplace Cadiz, his calling that of pilot: he hadfallen (as I have said) into the hands of the Moors about thirty yearsbefore: and at Azamor, or a little inland, he had made acquaintancewith a fellow-prisoner, an Englishman, by name Roger Prince, orPrance. This man had spent the best part of his life in captivity, andat one time had changed his faith to get better usage: but his firstmaster dying at a great age, he passed to another, who cruellyill-treated him, and under whose abominable punishments he quicklysank. He lay, indeed, at the point of death when Morales happened uponhim. Upon some small act of kindness such as one slave may do foranother, the two had made friends: and thus Morales came to hear thepoor Englishman's story. "

Here I broke off and nodded to the Count, who called for a lamp. Andso for a few minutes we all sat without speech in the twilight, theroom silent save for the cracking of Master d'Arfet's knuckles. Whenat length the lamp arrived, Zarco trimmed it carefully, unfolded hisparchment, spread it on the table, and began to read very deliberatelyin his rolling voice, pausing and looking up between the sentenceswhile the man Martin translated--

"_This is the statement made to me by Roger Prance, the Englishman, Anno MCCCCIX. , at various times in the month before he died_. 

"He said: My name is Roger Prance. I come from St. Lawrence on theRiver Jo, [A] in England. From a boy I followed the sea in the shipsof Master Canynge, [B] of Bristol, sailing always from that port withcargoes of wool, and mostly to the Baltic, where we filled withstock-fish: but once we went south to your own city of Cadiz, andreturned with wines and a little spice purchased of a Levantinemerchant in the port. My last three voyages were taken in the _MaryRadclyf_ or _Redcliffe_. One afternoon" [the year he could notremember, but it may have been 1373 or 1374] "I was idle on the Quaynear Vyell's tower, when there comes to me Gervase Hankock, master, and draws me aside, and says he: 'The vessel will be ready sooner thanyou think, ' and named the time--to wit, by the night next following. Now I, knowing that she had yet not any cargo on board, thought himout of his mind: but said he, 'It is a secret business, and double payfor you if you are ready and hold your tongue between this and then. '

[Footnote A: Wick St. Lawrence on the Yeo, in Somerset. ]

[Footnote B: Grandfather of the famous merchant, William Canynge. ]

"So at the time he named I was ready with the most of our old crew, and all wondering; with the ship but half ballasted as she came fromthe Baltic and her rigging not seen to, but moored down between themarshes at the opening of the River Avon. 

"At ten o'clock then comes a whistle from the shore, and anon in ashore-boat our master with a young man and woman well wrapped, andpresently cuts the light hawser we rode by; and so we dropped downupon the tide and were out to sea by morning. 

"All this time we knew nothing of our two passengers; nor until wewere past the Land's End did they come on deck. But when they did, itwas hand in hand and as lovers; the man a mere youngster, straight, and gentle in feature and dress, but she the loveliest lady youreyes ever looked upon. One of our company, Will Tamblyn, knew her atonce--as who would not that had once seen her?--and he cried out withan oath that she was Mistress d'Arfet, but newly married to a richman a little to the north of Bristol. Afterwards, when Master Gervasefound that we knew so much, he made no difficulty to tell us more; asthat the name of her lover was Robert Machin or Macham, a youth ofgood family, and that she it was who had hired the ship, being anheiress in her own right. 

"We held southward after clearing the land; with intent, as I suppose, to make one of the Breton ports. But about six leagues from the Frenchcoast a tempest overtook us from the north-east and drove us beyondChannel, and lasted with fury for twelve days, all of which time weran before it, until on the fourteenth day we sighted land where neverwe looked to find any, and came to a large island, thickly wooded, with high mountains in the midst of it. 

"Coasting this island we soon arrived off a pretty deep bay, linedwith cedar-trees: and here Master Machin had the boat lowered and borehis mistress to land: for the voyage had crazed her, and plainly hertime for this world was not long. Six of us went with them in theboat, the rest staying by the ship, which was anchored not a mile fromshore. There we made for the poor lady a couch of cedar-boughs with aspare sail for awning, and her lover sat beside her for two nights anda day, holding of her hand and talking with her, and wiping her lipsor holding the cup to them when she moaned in her thirst. But at dawnof the second day she died. 

"Then we, who slept on the beach at a little distance, being waked byhis terrible cry, looked up and supposed he had called out for theloss of the ship. Because the traitors on board of her, consideringhow that they had the lady's wealth, had weighed or slipped anchor inthe night (for certainly there was not wind enough to drag by), andnow the ship was nowhere in sight. But when we came to Master Machinhe took no account of our news: only he sat like a statue and staredat the sea, and then at his dead lady, and 'Well, ' he said; 'is shegone?' We knew not whether he meant the lady or the ship: nor would hetaste any food though we offered it, but turned his face away. 

"So that evening we buried the body, and five days later we buriedMaster Machin beside her, with a wooden cross at their heads. Then, not willing to perish on the island, we caught and killed four of thesheep which ran wild thereon, and having stored the boat with theirflesh (and it was bitter to taste), and launched it, steered, as wellas we could contrive, due east. And so on the eleventh day we werecast on the coast near to Mogador: but two had died on the way. Here(for we were starving and could offer no fight) some Moors took us, and carrying us into the town, sold us into that slavery in which Ihave passed all my miserable life since. What became of the _MaryRadclyf_ I have never heard: nor of the three who came ashore with mehave I had tidings since the day we were sold. "

Here Zarco came to the end of his reading: and facing again on Masterd'Arfet (who sat pulling his fingers while his mouth worked as if hechewed something) I took up the tale. 

"All this, Sir, by little and little the pilot Morales told us, therein the Prince's map-room: and you may be sure we kept it to ourselves. But the next spring our royal master must fit out two caravels tocolonise Porto Santo; with corn and honey on board, and sugar-canesand vines and (that ever I should say it!) rabbits. Gonsalvez wasleader, of course, with Tristram Vaz: and to my great joy the Princeappointed me third in command. 

"We sailed from Lagos in June and reached Porto Santo without mishap. Here Gonsalvez found all well with the colonists he had left behind onhis former visit. But of one thing they were as eager to tell as oftheir prosperity: and we had not arrived many hours before they led usto the top of the island and pointed to a dark line of cloud (as itseemed) lying low in the south-west. They had kept watch on this (theysaid) day by day, until they had made certain it could not be a cloud, for it never altered its shape. While we gazed at it I heard thepilot's voice say suddenly at my shoulder, 'That will be the island, Captain--the Englishman's island!' and I turned and saw that he wastrembling. But Gonsalvez, who had been musing, looked up at himsharply. 'All my life' said he, 'I have been sailing the seas, yetnever saw landfall like yonder. That which we look upon is cloud andnot land. ' 'But who, ' I asked, 'ever saw a fixed cloud?' 'Marry, I forone, ' he answered, 'and every seaman who has sailed beside Sicily! Butsay nothing to the men; for if they believe a volcano lies yonder weshall hardly get them to cross. ' 'Yet, ' said Morales, 'by your leave, Captain, that is no volcano, but such a cloud as might well rest overthe thick moist woodlands of which the Englishman told me. ' 'Well, that we shall discover by God's grace, ' Gonsalvez made answer. 'Youwill cross thither?' I asked. 'Why to be sure, ' said he cheerfully, with a look at Tristram Vaz; and Tristram Vaz nodded, saying nothing. 

"Yet he had no easy business with his sailors, who had quickly made uptheir own minds about this cloud and that it hung over a pit of fire. One or two had heard tell of Cipango, and allowed this might be thatlost wandering land. 'But how can we tell what perils await us there?''Marry, by going and finding out, ' growled Tristram Vaz, and this wasall the opinion he uttered. As for Morales, they would have it he wasa Castilian, a foreigner, and only too eager to injure us Portuguese. 

"But Gonsalvez had enough courage for all: and on the ninth morning heand Tristram set sail, with their crews as near mutiny as might be. Me they left to rule Porto Santo. 'And if we never come back, ' saidGonsalvez, 'you will tell the Prince that _something_ lies yonderwhich we would have found, but our men murdered us on the way--'"

"My dear brother Bartholomew, " Gonsalvez broke in, "you are wearyingMaster d'Arfet, who has no wish to hear about me. " And taking up thetale he went on: "We sailed, Sir, after six hours into as thick a fogas I have met even on these seas, and anon into a noise of breakerswhich seemed to be all about us. So I prayed to the Mother of Heavenand kept the lead busy, and always found deep water: and more by God'sguidance than our management we missed the Desertas, where a tall barerock sprang out of the fog so close on our larboard quarter that themen cried out it was a giant in black armour rising out of the waves. So we left it and the noises behind, and by-and-by I shifted the helmand steered towards the east of the bank, which seemed to me not sothick thereabouts: and so the fog rolled up and we saw red cliffs anda low black cape, which I named the Cape of St. Lawrence. And beyondthis, where all appeared to be marshland, we came to a forest shorewith trees growing to the water's edge and filling the chasms betweenthe cliffs. We were now creeping along the south of the island, and inclearer weather, but saw no good landing until Morales shouted aft tome that we were opening the Gulf of Cedars. Now I, perceiving somerecess in the cliffs which seemed likely to give a fair landing, lethim have his way: for albeit we could never win it out of him inwords, I knew that the Englishman must have given him some particulardescription of the place, from the confidence he had always used inspeaking of it. So now we had cast anchor, and were well on our wayshoreward in the boat before I could be certain what manner of treesclothed this Gulf: but Morales never showed doubt or hesitancy; andbeing landed, led us straight up the beach and above the tide-mark tothe foot of a low cliff, where was a small pebbled mound and a plaincross of wood. And kneeling beside them I prayed for the souls' restof that lamentable pair, and so took seizin of the island in the namesof our King John, Prince Henry, and the Order of Christ. That, Sir, isthe story, and I will not weary you by telling how we embarked againand came to this plain which lies at our feet. So much as I believewill concern you you have heard: and the grave you shall look uponto-morrow. "

Master d'Arfet had left off cracking his joints, and for a while afterthe end of the story sat drumming with his finger-tips on the table. At length he looked up, and says he--

"I may suppose, Count Zarco, that as governor of this island you havepower to allot and sell estates upon it on behalf of the King ofPortugal?"

"Why, yes, " answered Gonsalvez; "any new settler in Funchal must makehis purchase through me: the northern province of Machico I leave toTristram Vaz. "

"I speak of your southern province, and indeed of its foreshore, thepossession of which I suppose to be claimed by the crown of Portugal. "

"That is so. "

"To be precise I speak of this Gulf of Cedars, as you call it. Youwill understand that I have not seen it: I count on your promise totake me thither to-morrow. But it may save time, and I shall takeit as a favour if--without binding yourself or me to any immediatebargain--you can give me some notion of the price you would want forit. But perhaps"--here he lifted his eyes from the table and glancedat Gonsalvez cunningly--"you have already conveyed that parcel ofland, and I must deal with another. "

Now Gonsalvez had opened his mouth to say something, but herecompressed his lips for a moment before answering. 

"No: it is still in my power to allot. "

"In England just now, " went on Master d'Arfet "we should call tenshillings an acre good rent for unstocked land. We take it at sixpenceper annum rent and twenty years' purchase. I am speaking of reasonablyfertile land, and hardly need to point out that in offering anysuch price for mere barren foreshore I invite you to believe mehalf-witted. But, as we say at home, he who keeps a fancy must pay atax for it: and a man of my age with no heir of his body can afford tospend as he pleases. "

Gonsalvez stared at him, and from him to me, with a puzzled frown. 

"Bartholomew, " said he, "I cannot understand this gentleman. What canhe want to purchase in the Gulf of Cedars but his wife's grave? Andyet of such a bargain how can he speak as he has spoken?"

I shook my head. "It must be that he is a merchant, and is too old tospeak but as a haggler. Yet I am sure his mind works deeper than thishaggling. " I paused, with my eyes upon Master d'Arfet's hands, whichwere hooked now like claws over the table which his fingers stillpressed: and this gesture of his put a sudden abominable thought in mymind. "Yes, he wishes to buy his wife's grave. Ask him--" I cried, andwith that I broke off. 

But Gonsalvez nodded. "I know, " said he softly, and turned to theEnglishman. "Your desire Sir, is to buy the grave I spoke of?"

Master d'Arfet nodded. 

"With what purpose? Come, Sir, your one chance is to be plain with us. It may be the difference in our race hinders my understanding you: itmay be I am a simple captain and unused to the ways and language ofthe market. In any case put aside the question of price, for werethat all between us I would say to you as Ephron the Hittite saidto Abraham. 'Hear me, my lord, ' I would say, 'what is four hundredshekels of silver betwixt me and thee? Bury therefore thy dead. ' Butbetween you and me is more than this: something I cannot fathom. YetI must know it before consenting. I demand, therefore, what is yourpurpose?"

Master d'Arfet met him straightly enough with those narrow eyes ofhis, and said he, "My purpose, Count, is as simple as you describeyour mind to be. Honest seaman, I desire that grave only that I may beburied in it. "

"Then my thought did you wrong, Master d'Arfet, and I crave yourpardon. The grave is yours without price. You shall rest in the endbeside the man and woman who wronged you, and at the Last Day, whenyou rise together, may God forgive you as you forgave them!"

The Englishman did not answer for near a minute. His fingers had begunto drum on the table again and his eyes were bent upon them. At lengthhe raised his head, and this time to speak slowly and with effort--

"In my country, Count, a bargain is a bargain. When I seek a parcel ofground, my purpose with it is my affair only: my neighbour fixes hisprice, and if it suit me I buy, and there's an end. Now I have passedmy days in buying and selling and you count me a huckster. Yet wemerchants have our rules of honour as well as you nobles: and if inEngland I bargain as I have described, it is because between me andthe other man the rules are understood. But I perceive that betweenyou and me the bargain must be different, since you sell on conditionof knowing my purpose, and would not sell if my purpose offendedyou. Therefore to leave you in error concerning my purpose would becheating: and, Sir, I have never cheated in my life. At the risk then, or the certainty, of losing my dearest wish I must tell you this--_Ido not forgive my wife Anne or Robert Machin_: and though I would beburied in their grave, it shall not be beside them. "

"How then?" cried Gonsalvez and I in one voice. 

"I would be buried, Sirs, not beside but between them. Ah? Your eyeswere moist, I make no doubt, when you first listened to the prettyaffecting tale of their love and misfortune? Not yet has it struckeither of you to what a hell they left _me_. And I have been living init ever since! Think! I loved that woman. She wronged me hatefully, meanly: yet she and he died together, feeling no remorse. It is I whokeep the knowledge of their vileness which shall push them asunder asI stretch myself at length in my cool dead ease, content, with my longpurpose achieved, with the vengeance prepared, and nothing to do butwait securely for the Day of Judgment. Pardon me, Sirs, that I say'this shall be, ' whereas I read in your faces that you refuse me. Ihave cheered an unhappy life by this one promise, which at the end Ihave thrown away upon a little scruple. " He passed a hand over hiseyes and stood up. "It is curious, " he said, and stood musing. "It iscurious, " he repeated, and turning to Gonsalvez said in a voice emptyof passion, "You refuse me, I understand?"

"Yes, " Gonsalvez answered. "I salute you for an honest gentleman; butI may not grant your wish. "

"It is curious, " Master d'Arfet repeated once more, and looked at usqueerly, as if seeking to excuse his weakness in our judgment. "Sosmall a difficulty!"

Gonsalvez bowed. "You have taught us this, Sir, that the world speaksat random, but in the end a man's honour rests in no hands but hisown. "

Master d'Arfet waited while Martin translated; then he put out a handfor his staff, found it, turned on his heel and tottered from theroom, the interpreter following with a face which had altered nothingduring our whole discourse. 

 * * * * *

Master d'Arfet sailed at daybreak, having declined Gonsalvez' offerto show him the grave. My old friend insisted that I must stay a weekwith him, and from the terrace before his house we watched the Englishpinnace till she rounded the point to eastward and disappeared. 

"After all, " said I, "we treated him hardly. "

But Gonsalvez said: "A husk of a man! All the blood in him sour! Andyet, " he mused, "the husk kept him noble after a sort. "

And he led me away to the warm slopes to see how his young vines weredoing. 

MARGERY OF LAWHIBBET

_A Story of 1644_

I pray God to deal gently with my sister Margery Lantine; that theblood of her twin-brother Mark, though it cry out, may not prevailagainst her on the Day of Judgment. 

We three were all the children of Ephraim Lantine, a widower, whoowned and farmed (as I do to-day) the little estate of Lawhibbet onthe right shore of the Fowey River, above the ford which crosses toSt. Veep. The whole of our ground slopes towards the river; as alsodoes the neighbour estate of Lantine, sometime in our family'spossession, but now and for three generations past yielding us onlyits name. Three miles below us the river opens into Fowey Harbour, with Fowey town beside it and facing across upon the village ofPolruan, and a fort on either shore to guard the entrance. Three milesabove us lies Lostwithiel, a neat borough, by the bridge of which thetidal water ceases. But the traffic between these two towns passesbehind us and out of sight, by the high-road which after climbing outof Lostwithiel runs along a narrow neck of land dividing our valleyfrom Tywardreath Bay. This ridge comes to its highest and narrowestjust over the chimneys of Lawhibbet, and there the old Britonsonce planted an earthwork overlooking the bay on one hand and theriver-passage on the other. Castle Dore is its name; a close of shortsmooth turf set within two circular ramparts and two fosses chokedwith brambles. Thither we children climbed, whether to be alone withour games--for I do not suppose my father entered the earthwork twicein a year, and no tillage ever disturbed it, though we possesseda drawerful of coins ploughed up from time to time in the fieldoutside--or to watch the sails in the bay and the pack-horses jinglingalong the ridge, which contracted until it came abreast of us andat once began to widen towards Fowey and the coast; so that it camenatural to feign ourselves robbers sitting there in our fastness andwaiting to dash out upon the rich convoys as they passed under ournoses. 

I talk as if we three had played this game with one mind. But indeed Iwas six years younger than the others, and barely nine years old whenmy brother Mark tired of it and left me, who hitherto had been hisobedient scout, to play at the game alone. For Margery turned tofollow Mark in this as in everything, although with her it had beenmore earnest play. For him the fun began and ended with the ambush, the supposed raid and its swashing deeds of valour; for her all thesewere but incident to a scheme, long brooded on, by which we were toamass plunder sufficient to buy back the family estate of Lantine withall the consequence due to an ancient name in which the rest of usforgot to feel any pride. But this was my sister Margery's way; towhom, as honour was her passion, so the very shadows of old repute, dead loyalties, perished greatness, were idols to be worshipped. By aballad, a story of former daring or devotion, a word even, I have seenher whole frame shaken and her eyes brimmed with bright tears; nay, Ihave seen tears drop on her clasped hands, in our pew in St. Sampson'sChurch, with no more cause than old Parson Kendall's stutteringthrough the prayer for the King's Majesty--and this long before thelate trouble had come to distract our country. She walked our fieldsbeside us, but in company with those who walked them no longer; whenshe looked towards Lantine 'twas with an angry affection. In thehousehold she filled her dead mother's place, and so wisely that weall relied on her without thinking to wonder or admire; yet had westayed to think, we had confessed to ourselves that the love in whichher care for us was comprehended reached above any love we could repayor even understand--that she walked a path apart from us, obedient toa call we could not hear. 

In her was born the spirit which sends men to die for a cause; butsince God had fashioned her a girl and condemned her to housework, shetook (as it were) her own hope in her hands and laid it all upon hertwin brother. They should have been one, not twain. He had the frameto do, and for him she nourished the spirit to impel. With her ownhigh thoughts she clothed him her hero, and made him mine also. AndMark took our homage enough, without doubting he deserved it. He wasin truth a fine fellow, tall, upright, and handsome, with the delicateLantine hands and a face in which you saw his father's featuresrefined and freshly coloured to the model of the Lantine portraitswhich hung in the best sitting-room to remind us of our lost glories. For me, I take after my mother, who was a farmer's daughter of nolineage. 

I remember well the Christmas Eve of 1643, when the call came forMark; a night very clear and crisp, with the stars making a brave showagainst the broad moon, and a touch of frost against which we wrappedourselves warmly before the household sallied down to the great Parcan Wollas orchard above the ford, to bless the apple-trees. My fatherled the way as usual with his fowling-piece under his arm, Markfollowing with another; after them staggered Lizzie Pascoe, theserving maid, with the great bowl of lamb's wool; Margery followed, Iat her side, and the men after us with their wives, each carrying acake or a roasted apple on a string. We halted as usual by thebent tree in the centre of the orchard, and there, having hung ourofferings on the bough, formed a circle, took hands and chanted, whileLizzie splashed cider against the trunk--

 "Here's to thee, old apple-tree Whence to bud and whence to blow, And whence to bear us apples enow-- Hats full, packs full, Great bushel sacks full, And every one a pocket full-- With hurrah! and fire off the gun!"

I remember the moment's wait on the flint-lock and the flame and roarof my father's piece, shattering echoes across the dark water and farup the creek where the herons roosted. And out of the echoes a voiceanswered--a man's voice hailing across the ford. 

Mark took a torch, and, running down to the water's edge, waved itto guide the stranger over. By-and-by we caught sight of him, atall trooper on horseback with the moonlight and torchlight flamingtogether on his steel morion and gorget. He picked his way carefullyto shore and up the bank and reined up his dripping horse in the midstof us with a laugh. 

"Hats full, pockets full, eh? Good-evenin', naybours, and a merryChristmas, and I'm sure I wish you may get it. Which of 'ee may happento be Master Ephr'm Lantine?"

My father announced himself, and the trooper drew out a parchment andhanded it. 

"'Tisn' no proper light here, " said my father, fumbling with thepacket, and not caring to own that he could not read. "Come to thehouse, honest man, and we'll talk it over; for thou'lt sleep with us, no doubt?"

"Ay, and drink to your apple-trees too, " the trooper answered veryheartily. So my father led the way and we followed, Margery grippingmy hand tight, and the rest talking in loud whispers. They guessedwhat the man's business was. 

An hour later, when the ashen faggot had been lit and thecider-drinking and carolling were fairly started in the kitchen, Margery packed me off to bed; and afterwards came and sat beside mefor a while, very silent, listening with me to the voices below. 

"Where is Mark?" I asked, for I missed his clear tenor. 

"In the parlour. He and father and the soldier are talking there. "

"Is Mark going to fight?"

She bent down, slipped an arm round my nee' and caught me to her in asudden breathless hug. 

"But he may be killed, " I objected. 

"No, no; we must pray against that. " She said it confidently, and Iknew Margery had a firm belief that what was prayed for fitly mustbe granted. "I will see to that, morning and evening: we will praytogether. But you must pray sometimes between whiles, when I am not byto remind you--many times a day--promise me, Jack. "

I promised, and it made me feel better. Margery had a way of managingthings, a way which I had learned to trust. We said no more butGood-night: in a little while she left me and I jumped out of bed andpunctually started to keep my new promise. 

Next morning--Christmas Day--we all attended church together; that isto say, all we of the family, for our guest chose rather to remainin the parlour with the cider-mug. Parson Kendall preached to us atlength on Obedience and the authority delegated by God upon kings; andworking back to his text, which was I. Samuel, xvii. 42, wound up withsome particular commendation of "the young man to-day going forth fromamongst us"--which turned all heads towards the Lawhibbet pew and setMark blushing and me almost as shamefacedly, but Margery, after thefirst flow of colour, turned towards her brother with bright proudeyes. 

That same afternoon between three and four o'clock--so suddenly wasall decided--Mark rode away from us on the young sorrel, and thetrooper beside him, to join the force Sir Bevill Grenvill wascollecting for Sir Ralph Hopton at Liskeard. To his father he saidgood-bye at the yard-gate, but Margery and I walked beside the horsesto the ford and afterwards stood and watched their crossing, wavingmany times as Mark turned and waved a hand back, and the red sun overbehind us blinked on the trooper's cap and shoulder-piece. Just beforethey disappeared we turned away together--for it is unlucky to watchanyone out of sight--and I saw that Margery was trembling from head tofoot. 

"But he will come back, " said I, to comfort her. 

"Yes, " she answered, "he will come back. " With that she paused, andbroke forth, twisting her handkerchief, "Jack, if I were a man--" andso checked herself. 

"Why, you think more of the Cause than Mark does, I believe!" I putin. 

"Not more than Mark--not more than Mark! Jack, you mustn't say that:you mustn't think it!"

"And a great deal more of our name, " I went on sturdily, disregardingher tone, which I considered vehement beyond reason. "'Tis a strangething to me, Margery, that of us three you should be the one to thinkeverything of the name of Lantine, who are a girl and must takeanother when you marry. "

She halted and turned on me with more anger than I had ever seen onher face. She even stamped her foot. "Never!" she said, and again"Never!"

"Oh, well--" I began; but she had started walking rapidly, andalthough I caught her up, not another word would she say to me untilwe reached home. 

For a year we saw no more of our brother, and received of him only twoletters (for he hated penwork), the both very cheerful. Yet withina month of his going, on a still clear day in January, we listenedtogether to the noise of a pitched battle in which he was fighting, ashort six miles from us as the crow flies. I have often admired howmen who were happily born too late to witness the troubles of thosetimes will make their own pictures of warfare, as though it changed atonce the whole face of the country and tenour of folk's lives; whereasit would be raging two valleys away and men upon their own farmsploughing to the tune of it, with nothing seen by them then orafterwards; or it would leap suddenly across the hills, filling theroads with cursing weary men, and roll by, leaving a sharp track ofruin for the eye to follow and remember it by. So on this afternoon, when Hopton and the Cornish troops were engaging and defeating Ruthenon Braddock Down, Margery and I counted the rattles of musketry bornedown to us on the still reaches of the river and, climbing to theearthwork past the field where old Will Retallack stuck to hisploughing with an army of gulls following and wheeling about him asusual, spied the smoke rolling over the edge of Boconnoc woodland tothe north-east; but never a soldier we saw that day or for monthsafter. 

A little before the end of the day the rebel army broke and began toroll back through Liskeard and towards the passes of the Tamar, andMark followed with his troops to Saltash, into Devonshire, and as faras Chagford, where he rode by Mr. Sydney Godolphin in the skirmishwhich gave that valiant young gentleman his mortal wound. Soon afterthe whole of the King's forces retired upon Tavistock, where a trucewas patched up between the opposing factions in the West. But this didnot release Mark, who was kept at duty on the border until May--whenthe strife burst out again--and joined the pursuit after StrattonHeath. Thereafter he fought at Lansdowne, and in the operationsagainst Bristol, and later in the same year, having won a cornetcy inthe King's Horse, bore his part in the many brisk expeditions led byHopton through Dorsetshire and Hampshire into Sussex. 

'Twas from Worthing he came back to us a few days before Christmas, and his mission was to beat up recruits for his troop in the season ofslackness before the Spring campaign. He had grown almost two inches, his chest was fuller, his voice manly, and his handsome face notspoiled (Margery declared it improved) by a scar across the cheek, wonin a raid upon Poole. He had borne himself gallantly, and our prayershad prevailed with God to save him from serious hurt even in thefurious charge at Lansdowne, when of two thousand horse no more thansix hundred reached the crest of the hill. He greeted us all lovinglyand made no disguise of his joy to be at home again, though but on ashort furlough. 

And yet even on the first happy evening, when we walked up through thedusk together to the old earthwork, and he told us the first chapterof his adventures, I seemed to see, or rather to feel, that ourbrother was not wholly a better man for his campaigning. To be sure, a soldier must be allowed an oath or two; but Mark slipped out onebefore his sister which took me like a slap across the cheek. He bithis lip the moment it was out, and talked rapidly and at random for awhile, with a dark flush on his face. Margery pretended that shehad not heard, and for the rest he told his story with a manlycarelessness which became him. Once only, when he described the entryof the troops into Bristol and their behaviour there--while Margeryturned her eyes aside for a moment, that were dim for the death ofSlanning and Trevanion--he came to a pause with a grin that invited meto be knowing beyond my years. The old Mark would never have looked atme with that meaning. 

On the whole he behaved well, and took Margery's adoration with greatpatience. He had the wit to wish to fall nothing in her eyes. His newand earthlier view of war, as a game with coarse rewards, he confidedto me; and this not in words but in a smile now and then and a generalair when safe from his sister's eyes, of being passably amused by herhigh-fangled nonsense. His business of beating up recruits took himaway from us for days together; and we missed him on Christmas Evewhen we christened the apple-trees as usual. It was I who discoveredand kept it from Margery--who supposed him as far away as St. Austell, and tried to find that distance a sufficient excuse--that he had spentthe night a bare mile away, hobnobbing with the owner of Lantine, arich man who had used to look down on our family but thought it worthwhile to make friends with this promising young soldier. 

"And I mean to be equal with him and his likes, " said Mark to meafterwards by way of excuse. "A man may rise by soldiering as by anyother calling--and quicker too, perhaps, in these days. "

The same thought clearly was running in his head a week later, when hetook leave of us once more by the ford. 

"Come back to us, Mark!" Margery wept this time, with her arms abouthis neck. 

"Ay, sweetheart, and with an estate in my pocket. "

"Ah, forget that old folly! Come back with body safe and honourbright, and God may take the rest. "

He slapped his pocket with a laugh as he shook up the reins. 

Then followed five quiet anxious months. 'Twas not until early inJune that, by an express from Ashburton in Devon, we heard that ourbrother's fortune was still rising, he having succeeded to the commandof his company made vacant by the wounding of Captain Sir HarryWelcome. "And this is no mean achievement for a poor yeoman's son, " hewrote, "in an army where promotion goes as a rule to them that haveestates to pawn. But I hope in these days some few may serve hisMajesty and yet prosper, and that my dear Margery may yet have herwish and be mistress in Lantine. " Margery read this letter and knither brow thoughtfully. "It was like Mark to think of writing so, " saidshe; "but I have not thought of Lantine for this many a day. "

"And he might have left thinking of it, " said I, "until these troublesare over and the King's peace established. "

"Tut, " she answered smiling, "he does not think of it but only toplease me. 'Tis his way to speak what comes to his tongue to give uspleasure. "

"For all that, he need not have misjudged us, " I grumbled; and thenwas sorry for the pain with which she looked at me. 

"It is you, Jack, who misjudged!" She spoke it sharply. We stillprayed together for our brother twice a day; but she knew--and eitherdared not or cared not to ask why--that since his first home-comingmy love had cooled towards him. Very likely she believed me to bejealous. 

The hay-harvest found and passed us in peace, and the wheat was nearripe, when, towards the close of July, rumours came to us of an armymarching towards Cornwall under command of the Earl of Essex; bypersuasion (it was said) of the Lord Robarts, whose seat of Lanhydrocklies on our bank of the river about three miles above Lostwithiel, facing the Lord Mohun's house of Boconnoc across the valley. My LordMohun, after some wavering at first, had cast in his fortune withthe King's party, to which belonged well nigh all the gentry of ourneighbourhood; and had done so in good time for his reputation. Butthe Lord Robarts was an obstinate clever man who chose the other sideand stuck to it in despite of first misfortunes. We guessed thereforethat if the Parliamentarians came by his invitation they would notneglect a district on which he staked so much for mastery; and sureenough, about July 25th, we heard that Essex had reached Bodmin withthe mass of his forces, Sir Richard Grenvill having retired before himand moved hastily with the Queen's troop to Truro. After this, Margeryand I used to climb every morning to the earthwork and spy all thecountry round for signs of the hated troopers. Yet day passed afterday with nought to be seen, and little to be heard but furtherrumours, of which the most constant said that the King himself wasfollowing Essex with an army, and had already seized and crossed thepasses of the Tamar. 

'Twas on the 2nd of August that the bolt fell; when after mountingthe slope at daybreak with nothing to warn us, we stepped through thedykes into the old camp. A heavy dew hung in beads on the brambles, and at the second dyke I had turned and was holding aside a brier tolet Margery pass, when a short cry from her fetched me right-about andstaring into the face of a tall soldier grinning at us over the bank. In the enclosure behind him (as we saw through a gap) were a number ofmen in mud-coloured jerkins, quietly mounting a couple of cannon. 

"Good morning!" said the soldier amiably, with an up-country twang inhis voice, "Good-morning, my pretty dears! And if you come from thefarm below, what may be the name of it?"

"Lawhibbet, " I answered, seeing that Margery closed her lips tight. 

"Ay, Lawhibbet; that's the name I was told. " He nodded in thefriendliest manner. 

"Are you the rebels?" I blurted out, while Margery gripped my arm; butthis boldness only fetched a laugh from the big man. 

"Some of 'em, " said he; "though you'll have to unlearn that name, myyoung whipstercock, seein' we're here to stay for a while. The Earlmarched down into Fowey last night while you were asleep, and is downthere now making it right and tight. Do you ever play at blind-man'sbuff in these parts?"

Three or four soldiers had gathered behind him by this, and werestaring down on us. One of them blew a clumsy kiss to Margery. 

"Do you mean the child's game?" I asked, wondering whatever he couldbe driving at. 

"I do; but perhaps, sir, you are too old to remember it. " He winkedat the men and they guffawed. "It begins, 'How many horses has yourfather got?' 'Six, ' says you; 'black, red, and grey'--or that's thenumber according to our instructions. 'Very good then, ' says we; 'turnround three times and catch which you may. ' And the moral is, don't besurprised if you find the stable empty when you get home. There's adetachment gone to attend to it after seizing the ford below; hungrymen, all of them. No doubt they'll be visiting the bacon-rack afterthe stable, and if missy knows where to pick up the new-laid eggs shemight put a score aside for us poor artillerymen. "

We turned from them and hurried down the slope. "Rebels!" said Margeryonce, under her breath; but the blow had stunned us and we could nottalk. In the stable yard we found, as the artillerymen had promised, a company of soldiers leading out the horses, and my father watchingthem with that patient look which never deserted him. He turned toMargery--

"Go into the kitchen, my dear. They will want food next, and we haveto do what we can. They have been civil, and promise to pay for allthey take. I do not think they will show any roughness. "

Margery obeyed with a set face. For the next hour she and Lizzie werebusy in the kitchen, frying ham and eggs, boiling great pans of milk, cutting up all the bread of the last baking, and heating the oven fora fresh batch. The men, I am bound to say, took their food civilly, that morning and afterwards; and for a fortnight at least they paidreasonably for all they took. For several days I hung closer aboutthe ingle than ever I had done in my life; not that a boy of fourteencould be any protection to the women-folk, but to be ready at least togive an alarm should insult be offered. But we had to do with decentmen, who showed themselves friendly not only in the house but in theircamp down by the ford, whither, after the first morning, Lizzie andI trudged it twice a day with baskets of provisions. Lizzie indeedtalked freely with them, but I held my tongue and glowered (I daresay) in my foolish hate. Margery kept to the house. 

'Twas, I think, on August 15th that the first hope of release came tous, by the King's troops seizing the ford-head across the river; andthis happened as suddenly as our first surprise. Lizzie and I werecarrying down our baskets at four o'clock that day, when we heard asound of musketry on the St. Veep shore and on top of it a bugle twiceblown. Running to the top of a knoll from which the river spread inview, I saw some rebels of our detachment splashing out from shore ina hurry. The leaders reached mid-stream or thereabouts, and paused. Doubtless they could see better than I what was happening; for afterthey had stood there a couple of minutes, holding their fire--themusketry on the St. Veep bank continuing all the while--some twentymen came running out of the woods there and fled across towards us, many bullets splashing into the water behind them. They reached theircomrades in the river-bed, and the whole body stood irresolute, facingthe shore where nothing showed but a glint of steel here and therebetween the trees. Thus for ten further minutes, perhaps, theyhesitated; then turned and came sullenly back across the rising water. In this manner the royal troops won the ford-head, and kept it; foralthough the two cannon opened fire that evening from the earthworkabove us, and dropped many balls among the trees, they did notdislodge the regiment (Colonel Lloyd's) which lay there and held oneof the few passes by which the rebels could break away. 

For--albeit I knew nothing of this at the time--by withdrawing hisheadquarters to Lostwithiel and holding our narrow ridge with Fowey atthe end of it seaward, the Earl had led his army into a trap, andone which his Majesty was now fast closing. Already he had drawn histroops across the river-meadows above Lostwithiel; and, whatever helpthe Earl might have hoped to fetch from the sea at his base, he wasthere prevented by the quickness of Sir Jacob Astley in seizing afort on the other side of the harbour's mouth as well as a batterycommanding the town from that shore, and in flinging a hundred meninto each, who easily beat off all ships from entering. From thiscomfortable sea-entrance then Essex perforce turned for his stores toTwyardreath Bay on the western side of the ridge, where he landed acouple of cargoes at the mouth of the little river Par; but on the25th the Prince Maurice sent down 2, 000 horse and 1, 000 foot, andafter sharp skirmishing blocked this inlet also. So now we had thewhole rebel army cooped around us and along the two sides of theridge, trampling our harvest and eating our larders bare, with noprospect but a surrender; which yet the Earl refused, although hisMajesty thrice offered to treat with him. 

This (I say) was the position, though we at Lawhibbet knew not howdesperate 'twas for the rebels our guests; only that our food waspinched to short rations of bread and that payment had ceased, thoughthe sergeants still gave vouchers duly for the little we could supply. The battery above us kept silence day after day, save twice when theRoyalists made a brief show of forcing the pass; but at intervals eachday we would hear a brisk play of artillery a little higher up thestream, where they had planted a fort on the high ground by St. Nectan's Chapel, to pound at Lostwithiel in the valley. For my part Icould have pitied the rebels, so worn they were with weeks of hungerand watching, to which the weather added another misery, turning atthe close of the month to steady rain with heavy fogs covering landand sea, and no wind to disperse them. Margery had no pity; but Ibelieved would have starved cheerfully--if that could have helped--tosee these poor sodden wretches in worse plight. 

I think 'twas on the morning of the 28th that the Royalists across theford showed a flag of truce; which having been answered, a small partyof horse came riding over, the leader with a letter for the Earl ofEssex which he was suffered to carry to Fowey, riding thither in themidst of an escort of six and leaving his own men behind on the nearside of the ford. 

While they waited by their horses I drew near to one of them and askedhim if he knew aught of my brother, Captain Mark Lantine. He answered, after eyeing me sharply, that he knew my brother well--a very gallantofficer, now serving with the Earl of Cleveland's brigade. 

"That will be on the slope beneath Boconnoc, " said I. 

"How know you that?" he asked briskly, and I was telling him that thedispositions of the Royal troops were no secret to the rebels(warning of all fresh movements being brought daily to the ford fromLostwithiel), when a sergeant interrupted and, forbidding any furtherconverse, packed me off homeward, yet not unkindly. 

For what came of this talk Margery--to whom I reported it that sameevening--must bear the credit. For two days she brooded over it, keeping silence even beyond her wont, and then on the night of the30th, at nine o'clock, when I was scarce abed, she tapped at my doorand bade me arise and dress myself. She had an expedition to propose, no less than that we should cross the river and pay Mark a visit inhis quarters. 

Her boldness took away my breath: yet as she whispered her plan it didnot seem impossible or, bating the chance of being shot by a strayoutpost, so very dangerous. A heavy fog lay over the hills, as ithad lain for nights. The tide was flowing. My father's boat had beendragged ashore and lay bottom upwards under a cliff about threehundred yards above the ford. If we could reach and right it withoutbeing discovered, either one of us was clever enough, with an oar overthe stern, to scull noiselessly across to the entrance of a creekwhere the current would take us up towards Boconnoc between banks heldon either side by Royalists; to whom, if they surprised us, we couldtell our business. 

The plan (I say) was a promising one. It miscarried only after we hadrighted the boat and were dragging it across the strip of shinglebetween the meadow bank and the water's edge. A quick-eared sentrycaught the sound and challenged at two gunshots' distance. I had theboat's nose afloat as I heard his feet stumbling over the unevenforeshore: but the paddles and even the bottom-boards were lying onthe beach behind us. There was no help for it. Margery stepped onboard swiftly and silently, and I pushed well out into the stream, following until the water rose to my middle and so standing whilethe fellow challenged again. For a minute we kept mute as mice. Thefootsteps hesitated and came to a halt by the water's edge a fulltwenty yards below, and I guessed that the fog had blurred for him thedistance as well as the direction of the sound. Very quietly I heavedmyself over the stern and into the boat, which swung broadside tothe current and so was borne up and beyond danger from him. But themischief was, we were drifting up the main channel which ended in theLostwithiel marshes and must pretty certainly lead us into the enemy'shands, unless before striking the moors below the town we could bysome means push across to the farther bank. We leaned over, dipped ourarms in the water, and with the least possible noise began to paddle. Even in the darkness the tall banks were familiar, and between skilland good fortune we came to shore on the left bank below a coppice andjust within sight of the town lights. Between us and them lay a broadmarsh-land through which the river wound, and along the edge of which, under the trees skirting this shore, we started at a timorous run, pulling up now and again to listen. 

So we had come abreast of the town without challenge, when thesky almost on a sudden grew lighter, and we saw the church spireglimmering and the weather-cock above it, and knew that the moon hadrisen over the woodland in the shadow of which we crouched. And withthat Margery glanced back and plucked at my arm. 

The moor we had skirted was full of horsemen, drawn up in rank andmotionless. They loomed through the river fog like giants--rank behindrank, each man stiff and upright and silent in his saddle--as it werea vale full of mounted ghosts awaiting the dreadful trumpet, and in myterror I forgot to tremble at the nearness of our escape (for we hadall but blundered into them). But while I stared, and the wreaths offog hid and again disclosed them, I heard Margery's whisper--

"They are escaping to-night. It can only be by the bridge and acrossBoconnoc downs. If we can win to Mark and warn him!"

She drew me off into the wood at a sharp angle, and we began to climbbeneath the branches. They dripped on us, soaking us to the skin; butthis we scarcely felt. We knew that we must be moving along the narrowinterval between the two lines of outposts. Beneath us, in the centreof a basin of fog, a cluster of lights marked Lostwithiel: above, themoon and the glow of Royalist camp-fires threw up the outline of theridge. Alongside of this we kept, and a little below it, crossing thehigh-road which leads east from Lostwithiel bridge, and, beyond that, advancing more boldly under the lee of a hedge beside a by-road whichcurves towards the brow of Boconnoc downs. I began to find it strangethat, for all our secrecy, no one challenged us here. At a bend of thelane, we came in view of a solitary cottage with one window lit andblurring its light on the mist. We crept close, still on the far sideof the hedge, and, parting the bushes, peered at it. 

It must be here or hereabouts (by all information) that the Earl ofCleveland kept his quarters. The light shone into our eyes through adrawn blind which told nothing; and Margery was dragging me forward toknock at the door when it opened and two men stepped quickly acrossthe threshold and passed down the lane. They crossed the bar of lightswiftly and were gone into the dark; and they trod softly--so softlythat we listened in vain for their footfalls. 

Then, almost before I knew it, Margery had dragged me across a gap inthe hedge and was rapping at the cottage door. No one answered. Shelifted the latch and entered, I at her heels. The kitchen--an ordinarycottage kitchen--was empty A guttered candle stood on the table to theright, and beside it lay a feathered cap. Margery stepped toward thisand had scarce time to touch the brim of it before a voice hailed usin the doorway behind my shoulder. 

"Hullo!"

It was our brother Mark. 

"Well, of all--" he began, and came to a stop; his face white as asheet, as well it might be. 

Margery rounded upon him. She must have been surprised, but she beganwithout explanation running to him and kissing him swiftly--

"Mark--dear Mark, we have news for thee, instant news! Sure, Heavendirected us to-night that you should be the first to hear it. Mark, we passed the rebel cavalry in the valley, and for certain they willattempt to break through to-night. "

"Yes, yes, " said he peevishly, pulling at an end of his longlove-locks, "we have had that scare often enough, these last fewnights. "

"But we passed them close--saw them plainly in rank below Lostwithielbridge, and every man in saddle. Even now they will be moving--"

Mark swung about and passed out at the open door. He had not returnedMargery's kiss. "I must be off, then, to visit my videttes, " said hequickly, and then paused as if considering. "For you, the cottage herewill not be safe: it stands close beside the line of march and I mustget down a company of musketeers. You had best follow me--" he took astep and paused again: "No, there will not be time. "

"Tell us in what direction to go and we will fend for ourselves andleave you free. "

"Through the garden, then, at the back and into the woods--the fencehas a gap and from it a path leads up to a quarry among the trees; youcannot miss. The quarry is full of brambles--good hiding, in case wehave trouble. No cavalryman will win so far, you may be sure. "

Margery gathered her skirts about her, and we stole out into thedarkness. At the door she turned up her face to Mark. "Kiss me, mybrother. " He kissed her, and breaking away (as I thought) with a lowgroan, strode from us up the lane. 

"Now why should he go up the lane?" mused Margery: and I too wondered. For the first alarm must needs come from the lower end towards whichhe had been walking with his other visitor, when we first spied on thecottage through the bushes. 

But 'twas not for us to guess how the troops were disposed or wherethe outposts lay. We made our escape through the little garden, and, blundering along the woodland path behind it, came at length to athicket of brambles over which hung the scarp of the quarry with afringe of trees above it pitch-black against the foggy moonlight. Hereon the soaked ground I found a clear space and a tumbled stone or two, on which we crouched together, sleepless and intently listening. 

For an hour we heard no sound. Then the valley towards Lostwithielshook with a dull explosion, which puzzled us a great deal. (But themeaning, I have since learnt was this:--Two prisoners in the churchthere had contrived to climb up into the steeple and, pulling theladder after them, jeered down upon the rebels' Provost Marshal, whowas now preparing for a night retreat of the Infantry upon Fowey andin a hurry to be gone. "I'll fetch you down, " said he, and with abarrel of powder blew most of the slates off the roof but withoutharming the defiant pair who were found still perched on the steeplenext morning. )

After this the hours passed without sound. It seemed incredible, thissilence in the ring of wakeful outposts. Margery shivered now andagain, and I knew that her eyes were open, though she said nothing. For me, towards morning, I dropped into a doze, and woke to thetightening of her hand upon my arm. 

"Hist!"

I listened with her. The sky had grown grey about us, and up throughthe dripping trees came a soft and regular footfall, as of a bodyof horse moving past. "It will be Mark's troop, " I whispered, andlistened again. It seemed to me that the noise moved away to our rightinstead of towards Lostwithiel. A quick suspicion took me then: Iscaled the right-hand side of the quarry at a run, burst through thefringe of pines, and came out suddenly upon a knoll in full view ofthe down. The first gleam of sunshine was breaking over this slope, and towards it at an easy trot rode the whole body of rebel cavalry, in number above a thousand. 

"Escaped!"

While I stood and stared, Margery caught up with me. We looked intoeach other's face. Then without a word she went from me. I lingeredthere for perhaps ten minutes; for now, from behind the trees above, asquadron of Royalist horse charged across the slope at a gallop. Theywere less than four hundred, however, and as the rebel rearguardturned to face them, drew rein and exchanged but a few harmless shots. I watched the host as it wound slowly over the crest with its pursuershanging sullenly at heel: then I turned and descended in search ofMargery. As I reached the gap in the hedge, Mark entered the garden bythe little gate opposite. He came hastily, but halted as if shot, withhis hand on the gatepost to steady him--yet not at sight of me. Ilooked across the gap into the garden between us. Beside a heapof freshly turned mould, with her back to the currant-bush, stoodMargery, her hands stained with soil; and on the ground before her laya small chest with its lid open. 

I lifted my eyes from the glinting coins and sought Mark's gaze: butit was fastened on Margery, who walked slowly forward and straight upto him. Though he shrank, he could not retreat. She went to him, Ifollowing a pace behind. She put out a hand and touched the pistol inhis sling. 

"Redeem. " The voice was Margery's and yet not hers. "Redeem, " sherepeated--"_not Lantine_. "

With a groan he ran round the gable of the cottage. A moment later weheard the gallop of his horse down the lane. 

At seven o'clock that morning the King's forlorn hope of foot, innumber about 1, 000, entered Lostwithiel after a smart skirmish withthe rebel rearguard at the bridge; and not long after, the rebelreserve of foot, perceiving their comrades giving ground and beingthemselves galled by two or three pieces of cannon which began to playupon them from the captured leaguer, moved away from the hill they hadbeen holding: so that now we had the whole force falling back towardsFowey along the ridge, with our forlorn hope following in chase fromfield to field. 

Before eight the King himself with two troops of horse (one of them mybrother's) passed over a ford a little to the south of the town, withintent to catch this movement in flank: and there, by the ford's edge, I believe, took a cartload of muskets with five abandoned pieces, twoof them very long guns. The river being too deep, with a rising tide, for Margery to wade, we made our crossing by the bridge, where thefighting had been, but where there was now no soldiery, only a manydead bodies, some huddled into the coigns of the parapet, more laidout upon a patch of turf at the bridge end, the mud caked on theirfaces. It made me shiver to see: but my sister went by with scarce aglance and, once past the river, caught my hand and set off runningafter the troops. 

The beginning of the retreat had been brisk enough--so brisk that itoutpaced his Majesty's movement in flank: who, breasting the hill withhis cavalry (after some minutes lost at the ford in collecting thecannon and muskets which might well have been gleaned later) foundhimself, if anything, in the rear of his victorious footmen. But aftertwo miles, coming to that part of the ridge where it narrows aboveLawhibbet, and in view of our old earthwork which was yet prettystrongly held by their artillery, the enemy made a more forcibleresistance, fighting the several hedges and, even when dislodged, holding them with a hot skirmishing fire while the main body found thenext cover. By these checks we two, who had lost ground at the start, now regained it fast; and by and by (towards ten o'clock as I guess)were forced to pick our way under shelter of the hedges, to avoidthe enemy's bullets and espial by any of the King's men, who woulddoubtless have cursed and driven us back out of the way of danger. 

It was Margery who bethought her here of a sunken cart-road descendingalong the right of the ridge and crossed on its way by another whichwould lead us to the summit again and within two gunshots of the greatearthwork. By following these two roads we might outflank the soldierywhile keeping the crown of the ridge between us; for the fightingstill followed along the left-hand slope, above the river. 

This way, to be sure, was reasonably safe for a while; but must leadus out, if we persisted, into close danger--perhaps into the veryinterval between the fighting lines, and if at the rebels' rear, thencertainly between them and their artillery on the earthwork. As we ranI tried to prove this to Margery. She would not listen: indeed Idoubt that she heard me. "He must, " "he must, " she kept saying: and Ithought sure she had taken leave of her wits. 

It happened as I warned her. The second cart-track, mounting from thevalley bottom, led us up to the high road on the ridge; and there, peering out cautiously, I spied the backs of a rebel company postedacross it, a bare two hundred yards away towards Lostwithiel. Theirranks parted and I had time enough, and no more, to push Margery intothe ditch and fling myself beside her among the brambles before a teamof horses swept by at a gallop, with a cannon bumping on its carriagebehind them and dragging a long cloud of dust. 

"Quick!" called Margery as it passed: sprang to her feet and acrossthe road in the noise and smother. Choking with dust and anger Ifollowed, almost on all-fours. 

"But what folly is this?" I demanded, overtaking her by the oppositehedge. 

"I know what I am doing, " she said. "They did not see---the dust hidus. Now quick again, and help me up to this hazel-bush. "

I swung her up, and myself after her. The bush was one which I myselfhad polled two years before; an old stump set thickly about with youngshoots, in the cover of which we huddled, staring down the slope ofour own great grass-field (the largest on Lawhibbet farm) now filledwith rebels withdrawing in good order upon the earthwork on CastleDore. This earthwork stood in the very next field on our right, behindwhat had used to be a hedge but where was now a gap some twenty yardswide (levelled a few days before by Essex's cannoniers), and throughthis gap, towards which the regiments were streaming, drifted thesmoke of the guns as they flung their round shot high over our heads, and over the hedge on our left which hid from us all of the royaltroops save now and then the flash of a steel cap behind thetop-growth of hazel ash and bramble. 

The line of this hedge, on the near side to us, was yet held bymusketeers who had spread themselves along it very closely and seemedto be using every bush. Indeed I wondered how they were to be forcedfrom such cover, when a party of them by the gate suddenly gave backand began running, and through the gateway a small troop of horse camepouring at their heels. And albeit these cavaliers must have suffereddesperately in so charging up to a covered foe (and many riderlesschargers came galloping with them), yet the remnant held such goodorder that in pouring through they seemed to divide by agreement, apart wheeling to right and a part to left to drive the skirmishers, while the main troop held on across the field nor drew rein until theyhad chased the rebel rearguard to the gap. But as the gap clearedahead and showed the earthwork and the muzzles of the guns now loweredright in their path, their leader checked his horse, wheeled about inas pretty a curve as you would wish to see, and his troop followingcantered back towards the gate. 

It was gallantly done and clearly won high approval from a horsemanwho at the moment came at a trot through the gate, with a second troopbehind him, and was saluted by the returning squadron with, one flashof sword-blades, all together, hilt brought to chin and every bladepointing straight in air--a flourish almost as pretty as the feat itconcluded. He too held his sword before him with point upright, butawkwardly; and though he sat his saddle well, his bearing had moreof civil authority than of soldierlike precision. I was wondering, indeed, what his business might be on this field of arms--for his menhung back somewhat, as escorting rather than charging at his lead, when Margery plucked at my elbow. 

"The King!"

I stared at her stupidly. And reading awe in her wide eyes, I hadalmost turned to follow their gaze when my own fell on a rider who haddetached himself from the escort and was coming towards us along thehedge row, whipping it idly with the flat of his sword, and nowand again thrusting at it with the point, as if beating for hiddenskirmishers. It was our brother Mark, and he frowned as he rode. 

I held my breath as he drew near. Margery's eyes were on the King; butshe must needs recognise her brother when he came abreast of us. 

And so it was. She gave him an idle glance, and with that she let outa short choking cry, and leapt down from the hedge right in his path, dragging me after her by the sleeve. 

"Mark!" she cried. 

He swerved his horse round with a curse. But she caught at the bridleand pointed towards the gap through which, though hidden from us bythe angle, pointed the muzzles of the rebel artillery. "You must! Oh, if you fear, I will run with you and die with you--I your sister!There is no other way. You _must_, Mark!"

He pushed past her sullenly, moving towards the group where the Kingstood. 

"Mark, if you do not, the King shall know! Redeem, brother; or Iswear--and when did I break word?--here and now the King shall knowwho lost him the rebel horse. "

She spoke it fast and low, with a dead-white face. We were close nowto the royal group; close enough to hear the King's words. 

"I must needs, " he was saying, "envy her Majesty, Captain Brett. Underyour leading her troop has done that which my own can only envy. "

He turned at what seemed at first a murmur among his own men, and nodoubt was framing a compliment from them too. But their murmur grew toa growl of mere astonishment as a thud of hoofs drew all eyes after mybrother riding at full gallop for the gap. 

"But what is the madman after?" began the King, and broke off with asharp exclamation as his eyes fell on Margery, who had picked up herskirts and was running after Mark. She was perhaps a hundred yardsbehind him when the cannon roared and, almost in the entrance of thegap, he flung up both arms, and horse and rider rolled over together. A moment later she too staggered and fell sideways--stunned by thewind of a round-shot. 

The firing ceased as suddenly as it began. I heard a voice saying asif it continued a discussion--"And Lantine of all men! I'd have pickedhim for the levellest-headed man in the troop. By the way, he comesfrom these parts, I've heard say. "

And with that I ran to my sister's side. 

Two days later by the earthwork where we had played as children hisMajesty received the surrender of the rebel foot; while, on theslope below, the house which should have been Mark's heritage blazedmerrily, fired by the last shot of the campaign. 

PHOEBUS ON HALZAPHRON

 "_God! of whom music And song and blood are pure, The day is never darkened That had thee here obscure_. "

Early in 1897 a landslip on the tall cliffs of Halzaphron--whichface upon Mount's Bay, Cornwall, and the Gulf Stream of theAtlantic--brought to light a curiosity. The slip occurred during thenight of January 7th to 8th, breaking through the roof of a cavern atthe base of the cliff and carrying many hundreds of tons of rock andearth down into deep water. For some weeks what remained of the cavernwas obliterated, and in the rough weather then prevailing no one tookthe trouble to examine it; since it can only be approached by sea. Thetides, however, set to work to sift and clear the detritus, and onWhit-Monday a party of pleasure-seekers from Penzance brought theirboat to shore, landed, and discovered a stairway of worked stoneleading up from the back of the cavern through solid rock. The stepswound spirally upward, and were cut with great accuracy; but thedrippings from the low roof of the stairway had worn every tread intoa basin and filled it with water. Green slippery weeds coated thelowest stairs; those immediately above were stained purple and crimsonby the growth of some minute fungus; but where darkness began, thesecolors passed through rose-pink into a delicate ivory-white--a hardcrust of lime, crenelated like coral by the ceaseless trickle of waterwhich deposited it. 

At first the explorers supposed themselves on the track of a lost holywell. They had no candles, but by economising their stock of matchesthey followed up the mysterious and beautiful staircase until itcame to a sudden end, blocked by the fallen mass of cliff. Still inignorance whither it led or what purpose it had served, they turnedback and descended to the sunshine again; when one of the party, scanning the cliff's face, observed a fragment--three stepsonly--jutting out like a cornice some sixty or seventy feet overhead. 

This seemed to dispose of the holy well theory, and suggested that thestairway had reached to the summit, where perhaps an entrance mightbe found. The party returned to Penzance, and their report at onceengaged the attention of the local Antiquarian Society; a smallsubscription list was opened, permission obtained from the owner ofthe property, and within a week a gang of labourers began to excavateon the cliff-top directly above the jutting cornice. The ground hereshowed a slight depression, and the soil proved unexpectedly deep andeasy to work. On the second day, at a depth of seven feet, one of themen announced that he had come upon rock. But having spaded away theloose earth, they discovered that his pick had struck upon the edge ofan extremely fine tessellated pavement, the remains apparently of aRoman villa. 

Yet could this be a Roman villa? That the Romans drove their armiesinto Cornwall is certain enough; their coins, ornaments, and evenpottery, are still found here and there; their camps can be traced. That they conquered and colonised it, however, during any of the fourhundred years they occupied Britain has yet to be proved. In otherparts of England the plough turns up memorials of that quiet home lifewith its graces which grew around these settlers and comforted theirexile; and the commonest of these is the tessellated pavement with itsemblems of the younger gods, the vintage, the warm south. But in theremote west, where the Celts held their savage own, no such traceshave ever been found. 

Could this at last be one? The pavement, cleared with care, provedof a disappointing size, measuring 8 feet by 4 at the widest. The_tessellae_ were exceptionally beautiful and fresh in color; and eachseparate design represented some scene in the story of Apollo. NoBacchus with his panther-skin and Maenads, no Triton and Nymphs, noloves of Mars and Venus, no Ganymede with the eagle, no Leda, noOrpheus, no Danaë, no Europa--but always and only Apollo! He wasguiding his car; he was singing among the Nine; he was drawing hisbow; he was flaying Marsyas; above all--the only repeated picture--hewas guiding the oxen of Admetus, goad in hand, with the glory yetvivid about his hair. Could it (someone suggested) be the pavementof a temple? And, if so, how came a temple of the sun-god upon thisunhomely coast?

The discovery gave rise to a small sensation and several ingenioustheories, one enthusiastic philologer going so far as to derive thename Halzaphron from the Greek, interpreting it as "the salt of thewest winds" or "Zephyrs, " and to assert roundly that the temple (heassumed it to be a temple) dated far back beyond the Roman Invasion. This contention, though perhaps no more foolish than a dozen others, undoubtedly met with the most ridicule. 

And yet in my wanderings along that coast I have come upon brokenechoes, whispers, fragments of a tale, which now and again, as Itried to piece them together, wakened a suspicion that the deridedphilologer, with his false derivation, was yet "hot, " as children sayin the game of hide-and-seek. 

For the stretch of sea overlooked by Halzaphron covers the lost landof Lyonnesse. Take a boat upon a clear, calm day, and, drifting, peerover the side through its shadow, and you will see the tops of tallforests waving below you. Walk the shore at low water and you may fillyour pockets with beech-nuts, and sometimes--when a violent tide hasdisplaced the sand--stumble on the trunks of large trees. Geologistsdispute whether the Lyonnesse disappeared by sudden catastropheor gradual subsidence, but they agree in condemning the fables ofFlorence and William of Worcester, that so late as November, 1099, the sea broke in and covered the whole tract between Cornwall and theScillies, overwhelming on its way no less than a hundred and fortychurches! They prove that, however it befell, we must date theinundation some centuries earlier. Now if my story be true--But let itbe told:

 * * * * *

In the year of the great tide Graul, son of Graul, was king in theLyonnesse. He lived at peace in his city of Maenseyth, hard bythe Sullêh, where the foreign traders brought their ships toanchor--sometimes from Tyre itself, oftener from the Tyrian coloniesdown the Spanish coast; and he ruled over a peaceful nation oftinners, herdsmen, and charcoal-burners. The charcoal came from thegreat forest to the eastward where Cara Clowz in Cowz, the gray rockin the wood, overlooked the Cornish frontier; his cattle pasturednearer, in the plains about the foot of the Wolves' Cairn; and histinners camped and washed the ore in the valley-bottoms--for in thosedays they had no need to dig into the earth for metal, but foundplenty by puddling in the river-beds. 

So King Graul ruled happily over a happy people until the dark morningwhen a horseman came galloping to the palace of Maenseyth with a crythat the tide had broken through Crebawethan and was sweeping northand west upon the land, drowning all in its path. "Hark!" said he, "already you may hear the roar of it by Bryher!"

Yann, the King's body-servant, ran at once to the stables and broughtthree horses--one for Queen Niotte; one for her only child, thePrincess Gwennolar; and for King Graul the red stallion, Rubh, swiftest and strongest in the royal stalls, one of the Five Wondersof Lyonnesse. More than six leagues lay between them and the Wolves'Cairn, which surely the waters could never cover; and toward it thethree rode at a stretch gallop, King Graul only tightening his handon the bridle as Rubh strained to outpace the others. As he rode hecalled warnings to the herdsmen and tinners who already had heard thefar roar of waters and were fleeing to the hills. The cattle racedahead of him, around him, beside him; he passed troop after troop; andamong them, in fellowship, galloped foxes, badgers, hares, rabbits, weasels; even small field-mice were skurrying and entanglingthemselves in the long grasses, and toppling head over heels in theirfrenzy to escape. 

But before they reached the Wolves' Cairn the three riders were aloneagain. Rubh alone carried his master lightly, and poised his head tosniff the wind. The other two leaned on their bridles and lagged afterhim, and even Rubh bore against the left-hand rein until it weariedthe King's wrist. He wondered at this; but at the base of the cairn hewondered no longer, for the old gray wolf, for whose head Graul hadoffered a talent of silver, was loping down the hillside in full view, with her long family at her heels. She passed within a stone's throwof the King and gave him one quiet, disdainful look out of her greeneyes as she headed her pack to the southward. 

Then the King understood. He looked southward and saw the plain fullof moving beasts. He looked northward, and two miles away the rollingdowns were not, but in their place a bright line stretched taut as astring, and the string roared as if a great finger were twanging it. 

Queen Niotte's horse had come to a standstill. Graul lifted and sether before him on Rubh's crupper, and called to Gwennolar to followhim. But Gwennolar's horse, too, was spent, and in a little while hedrew rein and lifted her, too, and set her on the stallion's broadback behind him. Then forward he spurred again and southward afterthe wolves--with a pack fiercer than wolves shouting at Rubh's heels, nearer and yet nearer. 

And Rubh galloped, yet not as before; for this Gwennolar was awitch--a child of sixteen, golden-tressed, innocent to look upon as abird of the air. Her parents found no fault in her, for she was theironly one. None but the Devil, whom she had bound to serve her for ayear and a day, knew of her lovers--the dark young sailors fromthe ships of Tyre, who came ashore and never sailed again nor wereseen--or beneath what beach their bodies lay in a row. To-day his datewas up, and in this flood he was taking his wages. 

Gwennolar wreathed her white arms around her father and clung to him, while her blown hair streamed like gold over his beard. And King Graulset his teeth and rode to save the pair whom he knew to be dearest andbelieved to be best. But if Niotte weighed like a feather, Gwennolarwith her wickedness began to weigh like lead--and more heavily yet, until the stallion could scarcely heave his strong loins forward, asnow the earth grew moist about his hoofs. For far ahead of the whitesurge-line the land was melting and losing its features; trickles ofwater threading the green pastures, channelling the ditches, wideningout into pools among the hollows--traps and pitfalls to be skirted, increasing in number while the sun sank behind and still the greatrock of Cara Clowz showed far away above the green forest. 

Rubh's head was leaning and his lungs throbbed against the King'sheels. Yet he held on. He had overtaken the wolves; and Graul, thinking no longer of deliverance, watched the pack streaming besidehim but always falling back and a little back until even the greatgray dam dropped behind. A minute later a scream rang close to hisear; the stallion leaped as if at a water-brook, and as suddenly sankbackward with a dozen wolves on his haunches. 

"Father!" shrieked Gwennolar. "Father!" He felt her arms dragged fromaround his neck. With an arm over his wife Niotte he crouched, waiting for the fangs to pierce his neck. And while he waited, to hisamazement the horse staggered up, shook himself, and was off with abound, fleet as an arrow, fleeter than ever before, yet not fleeterthan the pack now running again and fresh beside him. He looked back. Gwennolar rose to her knees on the turf where the wolves had pulledher down and left her unhurt; she stretched out both arms to him, andcalled once. The sun dipped behind her, and between her and the sunthe tide--a long bright-edged knife--came sweeping and cut her down. Then it seemed as if the wolves had relinquished to the waters nottheir prey only but their own fierce instinct; for the waves pausedat the body and played with it, nosing and tumbling it over and over, lifting it curiously, laying it down again on the green knoll, andthen withdrawing in a circle while they took heart to rush upon itall together and toss it high, exultant and shouting. And during thatpause the fugitives gained many priceless furlongs. 

They reached the skirts of the great forest and dashed into itstwilight, crouching low while Rubh tore his way between the graybeech-trunks and leaped the tangles of brier, but startled no lifefrom bough or undergrowth. Beast and reptile had fled inland; and thebirds hung and circled over the tree-tops without thought of roosting. Graul's right arm tightened about his wife's waist, but his left handdid no more than grasp the rein. He trusted to the stallion, andthrough twilight and darkness alike Rubh held his course. 

When at length he slackened speed and came to a halt with a shudder, Graul looked up and saw the stars overhead and a glimmering scarp ofgranite, and knew it for the gray rock, Cara Clowz. By the base ofit he lowered Niotte to the ground, dismounted, and began to climb, leading Rubh by the bridle and seeking for a pathway. Behind him thevoices of crashing trees filled the windless night. He found a ledgeat length, and there the three huddled together--Niotte betweenswooning and sleep, Graul seated beside her, and Rubh standingpatient, waiting for the day. When the crashing ceased around them, the King could hear the soft flakes of sweat dripping from thestallion's belly, and saw the stars reflected now from the floor wherehis forest had stood. Day broke, and the Lyonnesse had vanished. Forest and pasture, city, mart and haven--away to the horizon aheaving sea covered all. Of his kingdom there remained only a thinstrip of coast, marching beside the Cornish border, and this sentinelrock, standing as it stands to-day, then called Cara Clowz, and nowSt. Michael's Mount. 

If you have visited it, you will know that the mount stands about halfa mile from the mainland; an island except at low water, when youreach it by a stone causeway. Here, on the summit, Graul and Niottebuilt themselves a house, asking no more of life than a roof toshelter them; for they had no child to build for, and their spirit wasbroken. The little remnant of their nation settled in Marazion on themainland, or southward along the strip of coast, and set themselves tolearn a new calling. As the sea cast up the bodies of their drownedcattle and the trunks of uprooted trees, they took hides and timberand fashioned boats and launched forth to win their food. They lowerednets and wicker pots through the heaving floor deep into the twilight, and, groping across their remembered fields, drew pollack and conger, shellfish and whiting from rocks where shepherds had sat to watchtheir sheep, or tinners gathered at noonday for talk and dinner. Atfirst it was as if a man returning at night to his house and, findingit unlit, should feel in the familiar cupboard for food and startback from touch of a monstrous body, cold and unknown. Time and usedeadened the shock. They were not happy, for they remembered days ofold; but they endured, they fought off hunger, they earned sleep; andtheir King, as he watched from Cara Clowz their dark sails moving outagainst the sunset, could give thanks that the last misery had beenspared his people. 

But there were dawns which discovered one or two missing from the taleof boats, home-comings with heavy news for freight, knots of women andchildren with blown wet hair awaiting it, white faces and the wails ofwidow and orphan. The days drew in and this began to happen often--sooften that a tale grew with it and spread, until it had reached allears but those of King Graul and Queen Motte. 

One black noon in November a company of men crossed the sands atlow-water and demanded to speak with the King. 

"Speak, my children, " said Graul. He knew that they loved him andmight count on his sharing the last crust with them. 

"We are come, " said the spokesman, "not for ourselves, but for ourwives and children. For us life is none too pleasant; but they needmen's hands to find food for them, and at this rate there will soon beno men of our nation left. "

"But how can I help you?" asked the King. 

"That we know not; but it is your daughter Gwennolar who undoes us. She lies out yonder beneath the waters, and through the night shecalls to men, luring them down to their death. I myself--all of ushere--have heard her; and the younger men it maddens. With singing andwitch fires she lures our boats to the reefs and takes toll of us, lulling even the elders to dream, cheating them with the firelight andvoices of their homes. "

Now the thoughts of Graul and Niotte were with their daughtercontinually. That she should have been lost and they saved, who caredso little for life and nothing for life without her--that was theirabiding sorrow and wonder and self-reproach. Why had Graul not turnedRubh's head perforce and ridden back to die with her, since help herhe could not? Many times a day he asked himself this; and thoughNiotte's lips had never spoken it, her eyes asked it too. At night hewould hear her breath pause at his side, and knew she was thinking oftheir child out yonder in the cold waters. 

"She calls to us also, " he answered, and checked himself. 

"So it is plain her spirit is alive yet, and she must be a witch, "said the spokesman, readily. 

The King rent his clothes. "My daughter is no witch!" he cried. "But Ileft her to die, and she suffers. "

"Our lads follow her. She calls to them and they perish. "

"It is not Gwennolar who calls, but some evil thing which counterfeitsher. She was innocent as the day. Nevertheless your sons shall notperish, nor you accuse her. From this day your boats shall have alantern on this rock to guide them, and I and my wife will tend itwith our own hands. "

Thenceforward at sunset with their own hands Graul and Niotte lit andhung out a lantern from the niche which stands to this day and isknown as St. Michael's Chair; and trimmed it, and tended it the nightthrough, taking turns to watch. Niotte, doited with years and sorrow, believed that it shone to signal her lost child home. Her handstrembled every night as Graul lit the wick, and she arched her palmsabove to shield it from the wind. She was happier than her husband. 

Gwennolar's spell defied the lantern and their tottering pains. Boatswere lost, men perished as before. The people tried a new appeal. It was the women's turn to lay their grief at the King's door. Theycrossed the sands by ones and twos---widows, childless mothers, maidsbetrothed and bereaved--and spread their dark skirts and sat beforethe gateway. Niotte brought them food with her own hands; they tookit without thanks. All the day they sat silent, and Graul felt theirsilence to be heavier than curses--nay, that their eyes did indeedcurse as they sat around and watched the lighting of the lantern, andNiotte, nodding innocently at her arched hands, told them, "See, Ipray; cannot you pray too?"

But the King's prayer was spoken in the morning, when the flame andthe stars grew pale together and the smoke of the extinguished lampsickened his soul in the clean air. His gods were gone with the oaksunder which he had worshipped; but he stood on a rock apart from thewomen and, lifting both hands, cried aloud: "If there be any godsabove the tree-tops, or any in the far seas whither the old fameof King Graul has reached; if ever I did kindness to a stranger orwayfarer, and he, returning to his own altars, remembered to speak ofGraul of Lyonnesse: may I, who ever sought to give help, receive helpnow! From my youth I have believed that around me, beyond sight assurely as within it, stretched goodness answering the goodness in myown heart; yea, though I should never travel and find it, I trustedit was there. O trust, betray me not! O kindness, how far soeverdwelling, speak comfort and help! For I am afflicted because of mypeople. "

Seven mornings he prayed thus on his rock: and on the seventh, his prayer ended, he stood watching while the sunrays, like dogsshepherding a flock, searched in the mists westward and gathered upthe tale of boats one by one. While he counted them, the shorewardbreeze twanged once like a harp, and he heard a fresh young voicesinging from the base of the cliff at his feet--

 "_There lived a king in Argos, -- A merchantman in Tyre Would sell the King his cargoes, But took his heart's desire: Sing Io, Io, Io!--_"

Graul looked toward his wife. "That will be the boy Laian, " saidMotte; "he sits on the rock below and sings at his fishing. "

"The song is a strange one, " said Graul; "and never had Laian voicelike that. "

The singer mounted the cliff--

 "_The father of that merry may A thousand towns he made to pay, And lapp'd the world in fire!_"

He stood before them--a handsome, smiling youth, with a crust of brineon his blue sea-cloak, and the light of the morning in his hair. "Salutation, O Graul!" said he, and looked so cordial and well-willingthat the King turned to him from the dead lamp and the hooded women asone turns to daylight from an evil dream. 

"Salutation, O Stranger!" he answered. "You come to a poor man, butare welcome--you and your shipmates. "

"I travel alone, " said the youth; "and my business--"

But the King put up his hand. "We ask no man his business until he hasfeasted. "

"I feast not in a house of mourning; and my business is better spokensoon than late, seeing that I heal griefs. "

"If that be so, " answered Graul, "you come to those who are fainof you. " And then and there he told of Gwennolar. "The blessing ofblessings rest on him who can still my child's voice and deliver herfrom my people's curse!"

The Stranger listened, and threw back his head. "I said I could healgriefs. But I cannot cure fate; nor will a wise man ask it. Painyou must suffer, but I can soothe it; sorrow, but I can help you toforget; death, but I can brace you for it. "

"Can death be welcomed, " asked Graul, "save by those who find lifeworse?"

"You shall see. " He stepped to the mourning women, and took the eldestby the hand. At first he whispered to her--in a voice so low thatGraul heard nothing, but saw her brow relax, and that she listenedwhile the blood came slowly back to her cheeks. 

"Of what are you telling her?" the King demanded. 

"Hush!" said the Stranger, "Go, fetch me a harp. "

Graul brought a harp. It was mute and dusty, with a tangle of strings;but the Stranger set it against his knee, and began to mend it deftly, talking the while in murmurs as a brook talks in a covert of cresses. By and by as he fitted a string he would touch and make it hum on aword--softly at first, and with long intervals--as though all itsmusic lay dark and tangled in chaos, and he were exploring and pickingout a note here and a note there to fit his song. There was troublein his voice, and restlessness, and a low, eager striving, and a hopewhich grew as the notes came oftener, and lingered and thrilled onthem. Then his fingers caught the strings together, and pulled thefirst chord: it came out of the depths with a great sob--a soul setfree. Other souls behind it rose to his fingers, and he plucked themforth, faster and faster--some wailing, some laughing fiercely, buteach with the echo of a great pit, the clang of doors, and the mutterof an army pressing at its heels. And now the mourners leaned forward, and forgot all except to listen, for he was singing the Creation. Hesang up the stars and set them in procession; he sang forth the sunfrom his chamber; he lifted the heads of the mountains and hitched ontheir mantles of green forest; he scattered the uplands with sheep, and the upper air with clouds; he called the west wind, and it camewith a rustle of wings; he broke the rock into water and led itdancing down the cliffs, and spread it in marshes, and sent itspouting and hurrying in channels. Flowers trooped to the lip of it, wild beasts slunk down to drink; armies of corn spread in rank alongit, and men followed with sickles, chanting the hymn of Linus; andafter them, with children at the breast, women stooped to glean orstrode upright bearing baskets of food. Over their heads days andnights hurried in short flashes, and the seasons overtook them whilethey rested, and drowned them in showers of bloom, and overtoppedtheir bodies with fresh corn: but the children caught up the sicklesand ran on. To some--shining figures in the host--he gave names; andthey shone because they moved in the separate light of divine eyeswatching them, rays breaking the thickets or hovering down fromheights where the gods sat at their ease. 

But before this the men had brought their boats to shore, and hurriedto the Mount, drawn by his harping. They pressed around him in a ring;and at first they were sad, since of what he sang they remembered thelike in Lyonnesse--plough and sickle and flail, nesting birds andharvest, flakes of ore in the river-beds, dinner in the shade, and theplain beyond winking in the noon-day heat. They had come too late forthe throes of his music, when the freed spirit trembled for a littleon the threshold, fronting the dawn, but with the fire of the pitbehind it and red on its trailing skirt. The song rolled forward nowlike a river, sweeping them past shores where they desired to linger. But the Stranger fastened his eyes on them, and sang them out to broadbars and sounding tumbling seas, where the wind piped, and the breezecame salt, and the spray slapped over the prow, hardening men toheroes. Then the days of their regret seemed to them good only forchildren, and the life they had loathed took a new face; their eyesopened upon it, and they saw it whole, and loved it for its largeness. "Beyond! beyond! beyond!"--they stared down on the fingers pluckingthe chords, but the voice of the harp sounded far up and along thehorizon. 

And with that quite suddenly it came back, and was speaking close athand, as a friend telling them a simple tale; a tale which all couldunderstand, though of a country unknown to them. Thus it ran:

 "_In Hellas, in the kingdom of Argos, there lived two brothers, Cleobis and Biton--young men, well to do, and of great strength of body, so that each had won a crown in the public games. Now, once, when the Argives were keeping a festival of the goddess Hera, their mother had need to be driven to the temple in her chariot, but the oxen did not return from the field in time. The young men, therefore, seeing that the hour was late, put the yoke on their own necks, and drew the car in which their mother sat, and brought her to the temple, which was forty-five stades away. This they did in sight of the multitude assembled; and the men commended their strength, while the women called her blessed to be the mother of such sons. But she, overjoyed at the deed and its renown, entered the temple and, standing before the image of Hera, prayed the goddess to grant her two sons, Cleobis and Biton, the greatest boon which could fall to man. After she had prayed, and they had sacrificed and eaten of the feast, the young men sat down in the temple and fell asleep, and never awoke again, but so made an end with life. In this wise the blessing of Hera came to them; and the men of Argos caused statues to be made of them and set up at Delphi, for a memorial of their piety and its reward_. "

Thus quietly the great song ended, and Graul, looking around on hispeople, saw on their faces a cheerfulness they had not known since theday of the flood. 

"Sir, " said he, "yours is the half of my poor kingdom and yours theinheritance, if you will abide with us and sing us more of thesesongs. "

"For that service, " answered the Stranger, "I am come; but not for thereward. Give me only a hide of land somewhere upon your cliffs, andthere will I build a house and sing to all who have need of me. "

So he did; and the fable goes on to say that never were known in theremnant of Lyonesse such seasons as followed, nor ever will be. Thefish crowded to the nets, the cliffs waved with harvest. Heavy werethe nets to haul and laborious was the reaping, but the people forgottheir aches when the hour came to sit at the Stranger's feet andlisten, and drink the wine which he taught them to plant. For his parthe toiled not at all, but descended at daybreak and nightfall to bathein the sea, and returned with the brine on his curls and his youthrenewed upon him. He never slept; and they, too, felt little need ofsleep, but drank and sang the night away, refreshed by the sacreddews, watching for the moon to rise over the rounded cornfields, orfor her feet to touch the sea and shed silver about the boats in theoffing. Out yonder Gwennolar sang and took her toll of life as before;but the people heeded less, and soon forgot even when their dearestperished. Other things than sorrow they began to unlearn. They hadbeen a shamefaced race; the men shy and the women chaste. But theStranger knew nothing of shame; nor was it possible to think harmwhere he, their leader, so plainly saw none. Naked he led them fromthe drinking-bout down the west stairway to the bathing-pool, andnaked they plunged in and splashed around him and laughed as the coolshock scattered the night's languor and the wine-fumes. What matteredanything?--what they did, or what they suffered, or what news thehome-coming boats might bring? They were blithe for the moment andlusty for the day's work, and with night again would come drink andsong of the amorous gods; or if by chance the Singer should chooseanother note and tell of Procris or of Philomela, they could weepsoftly for others' woes and, so weeping, quite forget their own. 

And the fable goes on to say that for three years by these means theStranger healed the griefs of the people of Lyonnesse, until onenight when they sat around he told them the story of Ion; and ifthe Stranger were indeed Phoebus Apollo himself, shameless was thetelling. But while they listened, wrapped in the story, a cry brokeon the night above the murmur of the beaches--a voice from the cliffbelow them, calling "Repent! Repent!"

They leaped to their feet at once, and hurried down the stairway. Butthe beach was empty; and though they hunted for an hour, they found noone. Yet the next night and every night after the same voice called"Repent! Repent!" They hurled down stones upon it and threatenedit with vengeance; but it was not to be scared. And by and by theStranger missed a face from his circle, then another. At length came anight when he counted but half of his company. 

He said no word of the missing ones; but early next morning, when thefolk had set out to their labors in the fields, he took a staff andwalked along the shore toward the Mount. A little beyond Parc-an-als, where a spring gushes from the face of the cliff, he came upon a manwho stood under it catching the trickle in a stone basin, and halteda few paces off to watch him. The man's hair and beard were long andunkempt, his legs bare, and he wore a tattered tunic which reachedbelow the knees and was caught about his waist with a thong girdle. For some minutes he did not perceive the Singer; but turned at length, and the two eyed each other awhile. 

Then the Singer advanced smiling, while the other frowned. 

"Thou hast followed me, " he said. 

"I have followed and found thee, " the other answered. 

"Thy name?"

"Leven, " said the man. "I come out of Ireland. "

"The Nazarite travels far; but this spot He overlooked on his travels, and the people had need. I brought them help; but they desert menow--for thee doubtless?"

The Saint bent his head. The Singer laughed. 

"He is strong, but the old gods bear no malice. I go to-night to jointheir sleep, but I have loved this folk in a fashion. I pitied theirwoes and brought them solace: I taught them to forget--and in theforgetting maybe they have learned much that thou wilt have tounteach. Yet deal gently with them. They are children, and too oftenyou holy men come with bands of iron. Shall we sit and talk awhiletogether, for their sakes?"

And the fable says that for a long day St. Leven sat on the sands ofthe Porth which now bears his name, and talked with the Singer; and, that in consequence, to this day the descendants of the people ofLyonnesse praise God in cheerfuller hymns than the rest of the worlduses--so much so that a company of minstrels visiting them not longago were surprised in the midst of a drinking-chorus to find theaudience tittering, and to learn afterward that they had chanted themost popular local burying-tunes!

Twilight had fallen before the Stranger rose and took his farewell. Onhis way back he spied a company approaching along the dusky shore, and drew aside behind a rock while they passed toward the Saint'sdwelling. He found his own deserted. Of his old friends either nonehad come or none had waited; and away on a distant beach rose thefaint chant of St. Patrick's Hymn of the Guardsman:

 "_Christ the eye, the ear, the heart, Christ above, before, behind me; From the snare, the sword, the dart, On the Trinity I bind me-- Christi est salus, Christi est salus, Salus tua, Domine, sit semper nobiscum!_"