culm rock, the story of a year: what it brought and what it taught. by glance gaylord. boston: entered, according to act of congress, in the year , by henry hoyt, in the clerk's office of the district court of massachusetts. innes and niles, stereotypers and printers, cornhill, boston. contents. chapter page i.--the old stone house ii.--letters iii.--on the "white gull" iv.--disappointments v.--the first evening vi.--culm sights vii.--how the month was spent viii.--noll's decision ix.--dirk's trouble x.--in the sea xi.--dirk's treasure xii.--firelight talk xiii.--the winter's waning xiv.--ned thorn xv.--plans xvi.--the work begun xvii.--the work progressing xviii.--the work finished xix.--a happy walk xx.--new thoughts and new plans xxi.--in peril of the sea xxii.--weary watching xxiii.--waiting xxiv.--days of calm xxv.--out of the sea [transcriber's note: in this e-text, italics have been denoted by enclosing the affected text in underscores] culm rock. chapter i. the old stone house. culm rock was a wild place. you might search the coast for miles and not find another bit of nature so bare and rent and ragged as this. so fiercely had the storms driven over it, so wildly had the wind and waves beat, that the few cedars which once flourished as its only bit of greenness were long ago dead, and now held up only bleached and ragged hands. jutting out into the sea, the surf rolled and thundered along its jagged shore of rock and sand, and was never silent. it would have been an island but for the narrow strips of sand, heaped high and ridgelike, which bound it to the main land; and this slender bridge, it often seemed, would be torn away by the ravenous sea which gnawed and engulfed great tracts at once, and yet heaped it higher and broader in the next storm. beyond, on the firm and unyielding land, the pine woods stood up, vast, dim, and silent, stretching away into the interior. so, with the great dark barrier of forest behind and the waste of shining sea in front, culm rock seemed shut out from all the rest of the world. true, sails flitted along the horizon, and the smoke of foreign-bound steamers trailed against the sky, giving token of the great world's life and stir; and there were skipper ben and the "white gull" who touched at the little wharf at culm every week; but for these, the people--for there were people who dwelt here--might have lived in another sphere for aught they knew or were conscious of what was transpiring in the wonderful land which lay beyond the stretch of sea, and between which and themselves the "white gull" was the only means of communication. do you wonder that people could spend their lives here, die, and never have seen the world without? there were only a dozen houses,--poor, racked, weather-beaten things, nestled on a bit of sand on a far corner of culm,--inhabited by fishermen and their families. they were rough, hardy folk, but ignorant, and with only ambition enough to get their living out of the great sea, and a poor and scanty enough living at that. skipper ben brought them molasses and calicoes down in the "white gull," and took their fish in exchange; and if he told them a bit of news from the great city and the greater world, it was all very well. if he failed to do this, it was all very well too. back of the fisher huts, the rocks rose high and dark, and quite hid the pine woods and the isthmus of yellow sand, and everything that could make culm at all cheery or pleasant. this eminence was wind cliff, and served as a landmark for all the sailors whose path lay along the coast. around this the gulls were alway flitting and screaming, and their nests were everywhere in the crevices of the rocks. bald and gray it rose, scarred and rent with storms and age, and so steep as to be almost inaccessible. it fronted the north-west, and from its sharp tip the rock sloped south to the sea, and held in one of its great hollows down by the shore a house--such a house as you would not have looked for at culm--with walls of stone and tall, ancient chimneys and deep-set windows, like eyes looking forever at the sea. it was so dark and weather-beaten that at first sight you might almost fancy it to be but some quaint, odd shape which the rocks had taken, by dint of the stress of winds and waves beating upon them for long ages. but a house it was, and made by human hands, and human beings dwelt in it. at night the red light from its windows streamed out upon the water, and in many a dark and tempestuous watch had skipper ben guided the "white gull" into port through the friendly gleaming of this beacon. for a long period of years the old house had stood empty and tenantless, the windows and doors broken and gone, the wind sweeping through and the rain beating in, and everything but the stout walls and chimneys a ruin. the superstitious fishermen would not inhabit it, and told tales of smugglers and pirates who made it their haunt, with other fanciful stories which always seem to linger about the sea, and in which there was not the faintest shadow of truth. desolate and neglected, it stood there year after year, till, one day, skipper ben brought down carpenters and masons on the "white gull," and straightway they went at work upon the old house. doors went up, windows went in, a piazza pushed itself out towards the sea-front, and there was great bustle and activity about it for weeks. then the laborers went away, and when the skipper came again, he brought, instead of groceries and store-cloth, a great quantity of furniture, the like of which the poor people at culm rock had never seen, and with the furniture came the master of the new house--a sorrowful, bowed man--and his housekeeper, a thin, wrinkled negro woman. then the smoke curled out of the great stone chimneys once more, the light streamed from the windows at night, and the fishermen and sailors rejoiced that at last the old house had found a tenant and no longer yawned bare and empty. the "white gull" came more than once with a cargo for the master of the stone house, who, the skipper told the culm folk, "was a mighty rich man, but the down-heartedest chap he'd ever cast eyes on. why, man, he just sot lookin' over the rail the best part o' the way down, with his eyes in the water, and said no more nor a stone. what ye think? now lookee here, men, let me give ye a bit o' advice. don't ye go to pesterin' him with yer talk and yer questions; fur he's diff'rent make 'an i be, an' 'twon't do. let him alone, an' keep yer own side o' the rock." the skipper's word was looked upon with respect by all the fish-folk, and they heeded his advice. so, in consequence, the owner of the stone mansion was undisturbed, and lived in the greatest seclusion. he never came within the limits of the little village, and whenever he was seen, it was only as pacing slowly along the shore. he passed the fishermen as they were hanging up their seines in the sun without heeding them, or acknowledging their respectful bows. the old black housekeeper came down to the village sometimes after fish or gulls' eggs, but went her way without satisfying the eager questions with which the women plied her. so one year passed away, then a second, and the master of the stone house was still as much a mystery to the poor fishers as ever. he rarely walked upon the sand, gave them not a look if ever they chanced to meet, and living, apparently, for no one but himself, took not the slightest interest in their welfare, cared naught for wreck or disaster on the shore, and seemed always stern and sorrowful. no company ever came down on the "white gull" to visit this strange and silent man, and he had no friends, apparently. skipper ben brought stores for him occasionally, and sometimes a letter; but this last event was a rare one, and the man seemed to have little more communication with the great world out of which he had come than did the humble culm fishermen. with winds and storms, the third year rolled around, and the master of the old house was still as much of a recluse as ever; but the culm people had ceased to regard him with any interest, and the man led a most solitary life, hardly seeing a human being, other than his housekeeper, from month to month. do you wonder what could make him so stern and sad? here is his story:-- one sweet and golden summer day, a man stood by the bedside of his wife,--he, crushed and heart-broken; she, faint and dying, but calm and loving and comforting. she held his hand, and whispered brokenly such words as she could only hope to comfort him with; and the last faint whisper which trembled on her lips was, "oh, richard, don't fail--don't fail to--to find him and cling to him, and come--come up--too." and with that she was dead. and the man left the bedside, and went out into the summer fields, where the birds were flitting and the bees droning and the wide earth seemed brimming with life and joy, and prayed that he might die too, since she was gone. but the birds sang on as joyously as ever, and the sun shone no less brightly because of the sorrow in the earth, and after his first tears were shed, his heart began to grow hard and bitter, and he put away the dying whisper, and went back to the dear dead face, cold and stern. his friends came to console him, but he would not listen, and after it was all over, and the gentle face hidden forever under the brown earth, he began to think of fleeing to some spot where he might find rest and quietness, and hide himself from all thoughts of the dear one who had left him, smothering his sorrow, and living as if she had not been. "i have been robbed," he said, bitterly; "all my happiness has been stolen from me. i can't seek him; i will not. oh, if there is a kind and merciful god, why has he stricken me? why has he taken all the joy out of my life? why has he left me without a comforter in the world?" so, without seeking for a comforter, without striving to "find him," as the dear voice had whispered, he turned away and strove to crush out the love and the tender memories which haunted his heart, and most of all that dying whisper which said, "don't fail--don't fail to find _him_." grown suddenly stern and morose, richard trafford looked about him for a refuge where he might flee from all society, and most of all from the spot where _her_ presence seemed yet to linger. he discovered wild and solitary culm rock, and purchased the old stone house. here, he thought, with the everlasting sound of the sea in his ears, with all the wildness and barrenness about him, and apart from the rest of mankind, he would bury himself, and forget all the bright and happy days which had passed. he left his friends without giving them any clew to his whereabouts, and with faithful old hagar, who persisted in following him, took up his abode by the sea. but do you think his sorrow lessened? do you think he found peace and happiness again? he carried his hard and bitter heart with him, and there was no happiness to be found by the sea. one year after another rolled away until the three were gone, and still he was wandering along his own thorny path, bowed with his sorrow, sighing and lamenting for the bright form which had left him, and still deaf to its whisper, "find _him_, and come up too." he walked on the sands, lonely and desolate; he paced about the great rooms of the stone house, oppressed and heavy-hearted; he shut himself up in his library and pored over books in vain. his sorrow clung to him, followed him everywhere; his heart was stubborn and bitter and rebellious. perhaps he despaired of ever losing the burden, for one day he brought out a portrait, wrapped and swathed with great care, and, tearing all the veilings off, gazed once more on the sainted face which he had not looked upon for three long and heavy years. he did not hide it again, but hung it upon his library wall, where the tender face and calm and loving eyes looked down and almost melted him to tears. he wondered how he could have kept it veiled and hidden so long. he wondered if those three years had not been spent in vain, unless it were to learn that he could not crush out his sweet memories if he tried. he sank down into his chair as he thought of this, and going back over the three past dreary years, remembered what a weary blank they were, thought, with a heavy sigh, what a shipwreck his life had been, and how he was now floating about without rudder or compass or anchor, merely a drifting wreck. and as he sits there in the sunshine which streams through the wide, high old window, we will see him for the first time. chapter ii. letters. richard trafford was a man of forty; but his hair was tinged with gray, and grief and wretchedness had worn heavy lines in his face. as he sat in the library this september afternoon, looking up at the portrait on the wall, he seemed almost an old man. the room was wide and high, with tall oaken bookcases at either end. two great windows, before one of which he sat, looked out upon the sea and the white line of foam curling upon the sand. the waves were but mere ripples this calm afternoon, but from the shore there came up a ceaseless, steady murmur that made itself heard in the quiet of the room; and by and by trafford's eyes turned from the calm face above him and looked out seaward. white and shining lay the vast expanse, with here and there the faint film of a sail upon the horizon. nothing to be seen but water and the great dome of sky and the little spit of yellow sand where the tide was murmuring. how many sunny afternoons he had thus looked out upon the sea, vast and gleaming! how many lonely afternoons and long, weary nights he had listened to the slow chanting of the tide, watched it creep up the sand with its puffs of thick foam, watched it as it slowly receded and left its burden of weed and shell behind! flowing and ebbing forever, alway at its work, in and out, in and out, through storm and shine, through night and day, it seemed to mock his own idle, useless life, and reproach him with its never silent voice. of what use, he wondered as he sat there, was such a life as his? to-morrow the tide would be at its work again, the ships go on, the sun shine warm and bright over all,--and he? for him to-morrow would be but the repetition of to-day; the same dragging hours, the same apathetic poring over books, the same half-hours at the organ with the music-books, playing sad melodies which accorded well with his own sombre feelings. he looked up at the portrait and sighed; remembered the dear one's dying words, and thought, "i might have found him once; but it's too late now. all that passed away a long time ago, and now,--it's only to plod on and on, year in and year out, till the end." and what then? there came a soft rap at the door. "come in, hagar," said he, heavily, without taking his eyes off the sea; and then the door was pushed open, and a head, surmounted by a great yellow turban, looked in. "somethin' fur you, mas'r dick," said the owner of the turban, without coming in, however. "what is it?" said trafford, abstractedly. the door opened wider, and the old housekeeper entered. she was bent and thin, with great wrinkles in her forehead and face, and wherever a tuft of wool peeped out from under the fanciful headgear, it showed quite gray; but her step was quick and firm as she went across the floor to the figure by the great window. "a letter, mas'r dick," said she, standing by trafford's chair; "dat yer old skipper brought it. said he brung it straight from de city." "ben tate?" asked the master. hagar nodded assent. "said ye was to hev it dis yer afternoon, sure," said she; "'twa'n't no letter to be lyin' 'round in dem culm huts, so he cum up here wid it hisself. be it frum hastings, mas'r dick?" hagar had lived in the trafford family from childhood, and richard had grown up to manhood under her eyes, had married, and she went to live with the young people. she had seen the wife fade and die, and the husband grow stern and gloomy, and out of solicitude and affection had clung faithfully to him through all fortunes. it would seem, to hear her talk, that she never had quite realized that richard trafford, the man of forty, was any other than "mas'r dick," the boy whose smartness at school, and whose popularity among his companions, had always been her boast and pride. gray and worn he was getting, gloomy, sad, even harsh at times to her, yet he was only "mas'r dick," and her own little boy, for whom she must watch and care to the best of her ability. now, as she queried where the letter might be from, she dropped down in a chair a little way from him, and waited till he should see fit to answer her question; for could there be a paradise on earth, it would have been represented to hagar by hastings,--that great city where their old home had been, where her own childhood had been spent, and where all the friends of her kin and color dwelt. it was a hard matter to tear herself away from them all and follow richard trafford to dreary culm rock; but, with some tears and sighing, she had said to her people, "yer don't know nuffin about it. ye habn't got any 'mas'r dick;' so how ken ye? 'tain't in dis yer old heart to let de chile go off sufferin' all by hisself, now! bress de lord, i'll stick to de poor boy, an' keep him frum jes' worryin' his life out." so here she was in her old age, away from all her people, yet happy because it was to serve "mas'r dick." trafford took up the letter,--a large, thick one, bearing the marks of the skipper's great fingers on its envelope, and smelling of fish, as if it had performed its journey in company with herring and cod,--and said, "yes, hagar; it's from hastings, of course." the old housekeeper lingered, looked at the master in hopes that he would bid her stay, and then, as he tore open the letter with a moody face, went slowly out, closing the door softly behind her. the handwriting was unfamiliar, and trafford wondered where it came from, feeling vexed that it should have arrived at that moment; and so began to read an emphatically business letter:-- "hastings, sept. th. "_to mr. richard trafford, of culm rock_: "sir,--i am sorry to be under the painful necessity of informing you of your brother's death. the rev. oliver trafford died the th of march last, leaving me as the executor of his estate. he was anxious to see you till the very last; but as we had no clew to your whereabouts, and only discovered your place of residence by accident a short time ago, that pleasure was denied him. he left one child--a boy of fourteen, or thereabouts--for whose welfare he was much distressed. he often expressed it as his desire that, should you ever make your appearance, this boy might be received by you as your own, and, indeed, left written statements to that effect. there is, also, among his private papers, a sealed letter for you, which, i doubt not, contains some such request. the boy, i am happy to say, is not likely to prove a burden or trouble to you, being obedient and all that could be desired. he is smart and sprightly, and quite a favorite in the circle in which his father moved, and from my own acquaintance with him (very intimate during the past six months) can assure you that he will prove anything but a poor acquisition. "as to the estate, i am sorry to say that mr. trafford left but little of value,--enough, perhaps, to educate the boy; but, as i hear you are a gentleman of fortune, this, i presume, is a matter of very little moment. i shall be happy to show you your brother's accounts at any time, and to have the honor of answering any inquiries which you may be disposed to make. i enclose a note from your nephew. awaiting your decision in the matter, i am, sir, your most obedient servant, "thomas gray. "room , at no. court st." with a gloomy face, trafford laid down the lawyer's letter, and took up his nephew's. he did not remember ever having seen the boy. he was, most likely, a crazy, boisterous lad, that would be forever in mischief, and bring the house about their heads. as for having him at culm rock, it was too preposterous a thought to be entertained for a moment. he had decided at once how mr. gray's letter should be answered, and felt too indifferent to care about reading his nephew's. what did these things matter to him? yet, after a time, he thought better of it, and took up the note again, saying to himself, "i'll read it, if only because it's poor noll's boy;" and opening the missive, found therein the following frank boy's letter:-- "hastings, sept. th. "dear uncle richard,--i don't know what to say to you--it all seems so strange and awkward. mr. gray said i was to write, however, and send the note with his; so i am trying. it is such a long time since i saw you that i've forgotten your face, and i think you must have forgotten that there was such a person as myself in the world. papa died almost six months ago, and he said all the time, at the last, 'go for uncle richard!' but i didn't know where you were, and mr. gray could not find out till a short time ago; so papa died without seeing you. i don't know what he wanted to say, but he told me that i was to live with you and be your boy; and mr. gray says the papers say the same thing." here the writer had evidently faltered, and been at a loss how to proceed further with intelligence which it, apparently, was very irksome for him to disclose; but he continued with, "there are only you and me left, and i am sure i would like very much to be your boy and live with you, as papa said; but--but i don't know--i mean--well, i can't say it, uncle richard, but i mean that i wish i might know what you thought about it first. i wouldn't like to come, you know, unless you liked,--unless you were _glad_ to have me. mr. gray has all papa's business to settle, and i suspect he wants to get me settled, too, somewhere, pretty quick; and so, if you please, i hope you won't mind whatever he may say about me, and only do just as you like about giving him permission to send me. i can find a home somewhere, if you would rather. "my name is oliver,--noll, everybody calls me; i'm almost fifteen, and have always been at school in hastings, and papa used to give me lessons beside. is there a school at culm rock? i do wish you could have seen papa, dear uncle richard, he longed so for you when he died; but there is a letter for you among his papers, which will be sent to culm rock, if i do not come to bring it. mr. gray will tell you all about me, i suppose, and the affairs besides; so i will stop. "your nephew, "noll trafford. "--and don't mind what mr. gray says, please, and only do as you like." richard trafford finished this letter with something like a grim smile on his lips. "the boy has got the true trafford spirit," he said to himself, "and some of brother noll's gentleness, i fancy. ah, noll was always a happier man than i!" he read the boy's letter again, wondering what made it seem so bright and pleasant, and feeling vexed with himself for doing it. why should he care for this boy or this boy's letter? had he not fled to culm rock to escape all knowledge of what was transpiring in the world without,--to forget friends and kin, if that was possible? he looked up and met the sweet, grave eyes of his wife looking down into his, and read something there which made his eyes fill and his lip quiver. "ah," he sighed, "why did i not try to follow after?" and with this thought in his heart, he rose and stood by the window, looking down at the crawling tide. his thoughts came back to the boy, presently, and with another grim smile upon his face, he remembered what a dull and dreary place culm rock would be for a lad of fourteen. he would soon tire of it, and be glad enough to go back to hastings, he fancied. if he was a wild boy, he should go back on the return of the "white gull;" if he could be tolerated, he might stay till he tired of it. it was poor brother noll's boy, after all, he thought, and he could not make his heart quite hard enough to refuse him a home. so, when skipper ben returned to hastings with his next cargo of fish, he carried a letter hidden away under his pea-jacket, and this was what it contained:-- "culm rock, sept. th. "_to noll trafford_: "come; you are welcome. "uncle richard." chapter iii. on the "white gull." the breeze was crisp and fresh that morning, and the skipper anxious to set sail. everything was in readiness on board the "white gull," but still its master did not give the word to cast off, and stumped up and down the deck, muttering and grumbling to his mate. "allus jes' so!" he said, wrathfully; "these town folks never up to time. think on't, jack, that 'ere lawyer, gray, promised to get the youngster here a good half-hour afore sunrise! here it's sun-up already, and this breeze won't last forever, nuther." "why don't ye go 'long 'thout him?" queried jack snape from his seat on a bucket. "would, ef 'twa'n't fur that pesky lawyer!" growled the skipper; "an' 'tain't every day ye can get a passenger fur the rock, nuther. mought as well take what passage-money he can, a fellow mought, jack." the mate of the "white gull" began to whistle, and fumbling in his pea-jacket brought out a pipe and tobacco, with which he proceeded to console himself. skipper ben took a few more impatient turns up and down the deck, and sat down at last in grim despair, while the wind came in strong, steady puffs, and the craft rocked and swayed gently on the swell of the tide. the city behind them was hardly awake yet. its roofs and steeples loomed through a veil of haze or smoke which hovered over and clung about the towers, and only a faint murmur told of the stir and bustle which were presently to reign. on the wharves a few early drays were rumbling down after their loads of merchandise, and one or two vessels had left their moorings, and, taking advantage of the favorable breeze, were standing out to sea, which fact did not at all add to skipper ben's good-nature. "here they come," drawled the mate, putting up his pipe; and then a carriage came rattling down the wharf, stopping in front of the "white gull." "come at last, hev ye?" shouted the skipper, gruffly. "call this a half-hour afore sunrise, squire?" "well," said the lawyer, looking at his watch, "i thought we were prodigiously early. driver, put these trunks aboard in a hurry, since the skipper is waiting; and--noll, are you ready?" the skipper left his craft and came to bear a hand with the trunks, looking askance, meanwhile, at the boy who had got out of the carriage and stood on the wharf's edge, surveying the "gull." "hope you'll have a good run, skipper," said the lawyer, as the baggage went over into a cavernous aperture in the deck; "fine breeze, i should say. have a good care of this passenger of yours, man." "ay, squire, we'll manage. can't stop fur words from ye this morning; should ha' been a long piece down the coast afore this time o' day. bear a hand there, jack!" "good-by, noll," said the lawyer; "keep up a stout heart, my boy, and don't forget your city friends. you'll have a fine run down to culm, and you must send me a line back by the skipper. good-by!" and mr. gray got into his carriage and rolled back toward the city. noll trafford stood leaning against a great post and looking after the lawyer's carriage with a slight choking in his throat, till the skipper's gruff "get aboard here, lad!" warned him that the "gull" was about to cast off. slowly the wharf glided away, and the little coasting vessel stood out into the channel. the city spread itself out behind them, a long maze of brick and slate, with spires and domes showing dimly through the blue haze which wrapped them about. on the far, watery horizon lay a belt of vapory clouds which presently began to rend and tear and float off in ragged masses, and then a great red sun gleamed through and made a golden roadway across the sea, and transformed the misty fleeces of vapor to wonderful hangings of amethyst, streaked with great threads of scarlet. "jes' sunrise!" muttered the skipper; "make the best o' this 'ere breeze, eh, jack?" "ay," drawled the mate, "we'll catch it afore long, skipper." the city's old cold front suddenly gleamed out in vivid gold, the spires grew rosy in the first rays of sunlight, and, all its dimness and dulness gone, hastings lay gleaming and glowing in the fair morning light like some vision of fairyland. noll trafford, sitting on a great bale of merchandise near the stern of the "gull," gazed at the city, slowly sinking and fading in the sea, with a feeling somewhat akin to homesickness. it had never looked so bright to him before as at this moment of his departure from it, and he was leaving behind a great many friends--all his school acquaintances, all the scenes and haunts that were dear to him--to go--where? he hardly knew, himself, but his bright fancy had pictured culm as some pleasant little sea town, where there would, perhaps, be a great beach to ramble upon and hunt for minerals and shells, and where he would soon make plenty of new acquaintances. and uncle richard he had pictured to himself as a gentle, kind man,--grave, perhaps, but who would love him and try to fill the place of his own dead father. so, with these bright visions filling his mind, it was little wonder that he turned from the stern, after hastings had faded into the merest blue dot on the horizon-line, and looked forward to the time when the journey's end should be reached, with happy anticipations. before them lay the vast and boundless sea, with no trace of shore or island save a low blue belt in the south, like a cloud, and the "gull" began to pitch and toss somewhat with the great ocean-swell. skipper ben, having got well in the way of the breeze which was carrying his vessel steadily before it, began to regain his good-humor. sitting on the top of a cask, he puffed away at his pipe and soliloquized to himself about his passenger, who sat regarding jack snape's movements at the helm with much interest. the skipper had three or four boys at home,--great sturdy, brown-faced, stout-armed fellows,--between whom and this fair-faced, curly-headed boy there was little resemblance, he felt. "town breedin', town breedin'," muttered he; "it's curi's what it'll make of a lad. this chap'll grow up with his head full o' le'rnin' into a lawyer or parson or somethin' like, and my lads'll be skippers like their dad, with no le'rnin' to speak on. i'll warrant this lad could get off more book-stuff in five minutes 'an mine ever heerd on." his eyes followed the boy as he went out to stand by jack's elbow and ply this slow-witted gentleman with quick, eager questions. he was slender and rather tall for one of his age, but lithe and agile, as the skipper noted. "one o' mine could jes' trip him with a turn o' his hand," thought he; yet he regarded the lad with a mixture of kindness and respect, after all. there were other things in the world beside bone and muscle, he remembered, and when the boy came slowly along the deck, after a fruitless attempt to coax the mate into conversation, he put out one of his big red hands and stopped him. noll looked up, inquiringly. "goin' down to culm for a bit o' vacation?--to git scarce o' the books, eh?" queried the skipper. "vacation? oh, no," said the boy, quickly; "i'm going there to live,--to have a home." the master of the "gull" came near dropping his pipe with amazement. "_you_ live at culm!" said he, incredulous; "what ye goin' to live in?" it was noll's turn to look amazed. he suddenly faced the skipper, saying, very earnestly, "what kind of a place is culm rock, anyhow? isn't it a town?" a broad grin stretched across the old sailor's face, then he laughed aloud. "did ye hear that, jack?" he cried; "here's a lad what's goin' to culm to live, an' he wants to know ef it's a town!" "'twon't take him long to find out arter he gets there," drawled mr. snape. noll turned away and walked to the stern, thinking the skipper was a very uncivil fellow to laugh at his ignorance, and sat down again on the bale, secretly ill at ease on account of these sailors' words. what kind of a place could culm rock be? all around the boundless waste of waves flashed and glittered under the sun, and the "gull" sailed steadily on her course with not a fleck of land in sight,--nothing around but the vast blue of the sea,--above, only the great azure arch of sky. it was a new and strange sight to noll trafford. he lay on his back on the bale, and looked up into the wonderful depths of the blue dome, where no clouds sailed, and speculated about his destination. somehow, the bright vision of a pleasant sea town with a shining beach of sand and pebbles had faded, and in its stead there was doubt and perplexity. was it only a rock, as the name suggested, and no town? however, uncle richard was there, and that was one comfort; and perhaps the skipper was only joking, after all. he wished, though, that he might know what to expect; he wondered why he had not thought to ask mr. gray before starting. he lay a long time listening to the rush of water about the vessel, a strange and unusual sound to his ears. by and by a brawny hand touched his shoulder, and a gruff voice said,-- "lookee here, lad!" noll turned about and saw the skipper. "'twa'n't manners in me to laugh at ye, i 'low," said he, good-humoredly; "but 'twas droll, ennyhow. hain't ye never been to culm afore?" "never," said noll. "an' ye don't know nuthin' what it's like?" "no; how should i?" said his passenger; "i didn't know there was such a place in the world a month ago." the skipper looked incredulous once more. "an' now ye goin' there to live!" he exclaimed; "why, there ben't but one house there fit fur such as you, an' 'tain't there ye're bound, not by a long shot!" "but _one_ house! whose is it?" cried noll, eagerly. "why, it be one trafford's, one o' the strangest--" a sudden expression in the boy's face checked the words on the skipper's tongue, and the truth began to dawn upon his slow brain. "great fishes!" cried he, falling back a step or two, "ye ben't goin' _there_?" "yes," said noll, as quietly as he could. "why not?" the skipper gave him a long, steady survey, and then stumped away across the deck without another word, leaned over the rail, and began to whistle. noll looked after him, half determined to follow and demand what he meant, yet half dreading to learn that all his visions were a great way from the truth. perhaps it would be better to wait, he thought; night would bring the journey to an end, and then he should know all. so he did not follow the skipper, but kept his seat, while a great many shadowy forebodings crept into his heart, and he began to look back over the trackless waste which they had come, and wish, almost, that he was back in dear old hastings--in the old home where papa and he had spent so many happy hours--and that culm rock was a myth. the sun rose royally up to noon, and odors of dinner began to ascend from the hatchway. noll had a dinner of his own somewhere in a basket, which he brought forth and ate on the bale which served him for a seat, enjoying the novelty in spite of the anxious speculations concerning his new home in which he could not help indulging. after dinner the skipper was in better humor than ever, and took his turn at the helm. noll, wandering about the deck, stopped to watch him, whereupon the master of the "gull" good-naturedly answered all his questions, and even allowed him to take the tiller a few minutes, laughing the while at his white hands that could hardly grasp it. "wish ye could see my lads' hands!" he said; "could take both 'o' yourn in one uv 'em, an' not know they was holding anything. but you'll have browner paws afore ye leave culm!" "of course!" said noll, "for i'm going to get uncle richard to teach me to row,--i can swim now,--and i'm going to be around the shore half the time." "likely enough, likely enough!" said the skipper, meditatively; and when noll had passed on, he muttered, "it's a pesky shame fur the lad to be sent off and cooped up on the rock! don't know what he's comin' to, nuther. i'll be blamed ef i ain't sorry for the boy!" chapter iv. disappointments. it was late afternoon when land loomed up blue on the horizon. mr. snape had taken the tiller, and noll stood leaning over the rail by him, eager and watchful for the first look at culm. "mought as well wait a bit," jack snape had drawled out; "we sha'n't get there fur a long while yet, lad." but the boy chose to keep his place, and kept his eyes unweariedly on the distant point for which the "gull" was making. yet it was but tiresome watching, after all, and the brisk breeze seemed to have failed them somewhat, for the vessel's speed had sensibly diminished. "he'll be glad 'nough to look t'other way arter he gits there," muttered skipper ben, between the whiffs at his pipe; "my lads 'ud think they's killed for sartin to be shut up there a week." he got up at last, knocked the ashes out of his pipe, and disappeared down the hatchway, returning presently with a spy-glass, which he carried to his passenger with, "lookee here, boy, take this an' make out what ye ken. 'tain't much ye'll see yet, but mebby ye'll get a look arter a time." he sat down again, looking at the boy's face from time to time, and wondering if this sending him to culm rock was not some of that lawyer gray's work. the skipper had not a very high opinion of lawyers. slowly, slowly the blue point began to take shape, and noll's glass brought it to his eyes all too faithfully. the skipper saw the eager look and the warm color which had been on his face fade slowly out as the "gull" drew nearer and nearer the journey's end, and the warm-hearted sailor waxed indignant. "mought ha' told him what ter expect, anyhow!" he muttered, shaking a great bale with his brawny hands as if it had been lawyer gray's shoulders. the "gull" stood in toward shore. first, the pine woods, vast and sombre, showed themselves; then, a little way on, culm rock came slowly into view, bald, ragged, and desolate. noll's face was very grave, but he kept his place and said nothing. slowly the curve of the shore unfolded itself, a long line of yellow sand, length after length of scarred and jagged rock. the sound of the surf came faintly out, sounding over the ripple of water about the "gull's" prow. not a sign of life, as yet, had showed itself. the vessel kept steadily on till, at last, the whole great breadth of the rock lay before them, rising huge and massive out of the sea, and, in a sheltered hollow on the shore, a great stone house stood up, gray and weather-beaten as the cliffs about it. "is that the house?" noll asked, turning to the skipper, and laying down his glass. the old sailor nodded assent, thinking to himself that he had never seen it look darker and gloomier, and wondering what the boy thought. "aren't you going to stop?" noll asked, as the "gull" kept on, and the stone house dropped astern. "goin' round to the landin'," explained mr. snape; "'tain't good moorin's till ye git half a mile fu'ther round. ye'll git ashore pretty quick." under the cool and heavy shadow of the rock they crept, coming out of it at last into the full glory of the sun's setting. all the west was aflame, and the sea glowed and sparkled like molten gold. even the wretched little culm fish-huts looked almost fair and comely in this flood of light. noll trafford scanned the little wharf, where a motley collection of men were gathered, with a quick-beating heart. which of them could be uncle richard? would he give him a kind welcome? the boy's spirits began to rise somewhat under the influence of the broad, cheerful glow of sunshine and the speedy prospect of meeting this uncle who was to be as a father to him. the remembrance of the gray old house under the shadow of the rocks around the curve of the shore still lay somewhat heavily on his heart; but if uncle richard were only glad to see him, all that would not matter, he thought. he stood by the prow as the "gull" moved slowly up to the wharf, eagerly scanning every face that was watching the craft's motions. a sudden pang of disappointment chilled him from head to foot, for among that idle, shiftless-looking group, there was not one whom he could possibly mistake for his uncle. they were all fishermen, dull-faced, dirty, and out at their elbows. some frowsy, ill-clad women had come out of their houses, and, with children clinging to their skirts, looked on with idle curiosity. so this was culm rock! noll's bright fancies had all fled, and his heart was suddenly very heavy. he looked back across the sea toward hastings, longingly, and thus verified the skipper's prediction. if uncle richard had only been there to greet him, he thought, chokingly, it would not have mattered so much, but now, it was all forlorn and dreary enough. "'tain't much uv a town arter all; is it?" drawled mr. snape, with a broad grin on his thick features. "shut up, jack!" growled the skipper. "can't ye see the lad's got all he ken weather?" then he turned to noll, proffering his rough sympathy. "sorry fur ye!" he said. "culm ain't the place for the like o' you, an' what ye cum here fur, i can't see. but keep a stout heart, lad, an' rough it out best way ye can; ain't no other way now." "i'm going to," said noll, with an effort; "i won't mind after a little, i guess. good-by, skipper;" and he stepped out on to the little wharf among the fish-folk, who made way, regarding him curiously. "keep 'long up the shore," called the master of the "gull" after him, "and you'll cum to the house afore long. i'll send yer trunks up by some o' these 'ere good-fur-nothin' culm folks. good-by, lad!" the skipper watched the boyish figure walking away up the sands, and remarked to his mate, "ef i knew that was some o' gray's work, i'd jes' like the fun o' bringin' the ole chap down here on the 'gull,' an' lettin' him loose to browse on the rocks,--jes' to see how _he'd_ like it!" noll walked briskly, trying to keep up good heart by whistling and humming snatches of tunes, looking back over his shoulder at the wonderful gleaming of the west, and the queer picture which the fish-huts and the group of idlers made, with the "gull" lying by the little wharf, her cloud of canvas yet unfurled and its shadow gleaming white as ivory in the depth of water on which she floated. at his feet the tide was murmuring. how far and vast stretched the sea! what a minute atom of earth was culm rock, compared with the boundless waste of waves which compassed it about! bending over all, the evening sky lay cool and serene, flushed, where it met the water, with lovely stains of color. noll was but dimly conscious of these things as he hurried on, because his heart was filled with conjectures about the stone house and the friend he was to find there. the disappointment of not finding his uncle awaiting him with a warm greeting still lay heavily on his heart; and as he passed the curve of the shore, and the stone house came in sight, his quick pace slackened, and he walked but slowly. there was no one visible on the piazza. all the doors and windows were closed, though the evening was warm and mild. the boy wondered if his uncle was absent. perhaps, he thought, with a little thrill of pleasure, that, after all, was the reason why uncle richard had failed to meet him. a thin blue film of smoke crept up from one of the tall chimneys, telling him that some one was within the gloomy old structure, which, it seemed to him, looked much more like a grim fortress than a _peaceful_ dwelling. not a blade of grass or anything green flourished about it; all was rock and sand and stranded kelp. his heart beat fast as he went up the piazza-steps, and noted how his footsteps echoed in the silence. he rapped on the great oaken front-door. no one answered the summons. he rapped again, wondering if uncle richard was really gone, and his heart began to grow heavy again, as it had done upon his first disappointment at the wharf. the lonely voice of the sea stole up to his ears, and he turned about to look. twilight was fast settling down upon it, and already the far horizon was hidden; but along the shore the waves shone and gleamed whitely. noll's first pang of genuine homesickness came upon him here. it seemed as if he had not a friend this side of the wide, dark sea. this second summons met with no better success than the first. noll turned away, went back down the steps, and there stopped to look about him. he discovered some straggling footprints in the sand leading around the corner of the house, and these he followed for lack of a better guide. they led him to a long, low projection from the main body of the house, a kitchen it appeared to be, and here he found a wide-open door, from whence came the strains of a hymn half chanted, half sung. noll rapped. the singing ceased. a slow step came across the kitchen floor, and a voice said, "bress us! who's dis?" noll looked up at the wrinkled black face framed by a great yellow turban, and said,-- "i'm noll trafford. didn't--didn't uncle richard expect me?" old hagar threw up both hands crying, shrilly, "bress de lord! is dis noll trafford's boy?" and then stared blankly at him. "yes, if you mean uncle richard's brother," said noll, still very sad-hearted; "and wasn't he looking for me at all?" "bress ye, honey!" said hagar, recovering her senses, "he didn't say one single word to me 'bout ye! dun forgot it, i 'spose. but don't ye stan' on dem yer steps another minnit; come right in, honey. i'll see mas'r dick dis instant." noll followed her into the little kitchen, where on the hearth a fire was crackling and flashing its red flicker over the walls. he sat down on a rough wooden bench by the door, wondering if his uncle could really have forgotten that he was coming, and feeling not all light-hearted, while hagar clattered away to "see mas'r dick." she came back pretty quick, saying,-- "you's to go right in to de lib'ry, chile, right in jes' as soon as i git dis yer candle lit;" and getting down on her knees she puffed away at the coals and burned splinters till she succeeded in coaxing her tallow candle to burn. she got up, came back to where noll was sitting, and holding the light close to his face, looked down at him long and steadily. "bress de lord!" she said, stroking his curly hair, "you's de bery picter ob yer father. 'pears like 'twas him i see'd dis minnit 'fore me! did ye drop down frum de sky, or what, chile?" "i came down on the 'white gull,'" noll answered. "well, now!" said hagar; "an' why didn't yer father come too?" "papa? oh, why--papa is dead," said noll, with a little quiver in his voice which he could not possibly prevent, he was so lonely and homesick. old hagar gave a shrill wail and set her candle down. "now don't tell me dat!" she cried. "mas'r oliver dead? well, well, honey, we dunno nuffin on dis yer rock? de whole ob creation might cum to an' end, an' we nebber hear on't. an' you's all alone now, chile?" "yes," said noll, feeling at that moment as if there wore never truer words spoken. "an' you's come down to lib wid yer uncle dick?" "yes." "well, bress de lord fur dat!" said hagar, joyfully; "couldn't a better ting happened to dat yer man, nohow. jes' what he wants,--a boy like yerself, wid yer own father's face. an' did mas'r dick know ye's comin'?" "yes, he knew," said noll; "he--he told me i'd be welcome. do you think i am?" "why, yes, honey! what made ye ask dat? yer uncle dick is a strange man, an' ye mustn't mind if he don't say much to ye, an'--but come right in de libr'y, chile, fur he's waitin' fur ye. come right along; i's lit de lamp in dar;" and taking up her candle, she led the way. "don't yer mind dis ole hall," said hagar, by way of apology as they entered a long, bare, chilly corridor; "nobody comes here but me, an' i don't mind. it's only my road frum de libr'y to de kitchen. _he_ nebber comes out here." from this hall they passed into the dining-room, where stood a supper-table very plainly spread. "mas'r dick didn't eat nuffin to-night," said hagar, glancing around as she clattered on. at one end of the dining-room they came to a door which the old housekeeper softly opened. "go right in, honey," she said to noll, in a whisper; "he's dar," and then turned away. richard trafford sat by one of the great bookcases, reading. the lamplight fell full upon his worn and sorrowful face. he did not hear the door open, did not hear noll's light step, and was first conscious of the boy's presence when two arms were suddenly clasped about his neck, and a voice, trembling with a mixture of joy and sadness, cried, "oh, uncle richard!" chapter v. the first evening. richard trafford, a little startled, unclasped the boy's hands without a word, and held him off by one arm. full in the light he held him, gazing in his face long and keenly. then he said, "so this is noll!" oh, how coldly the words fell upon the boy's heart! how the stern voice and the keen gray eyes chilled him! not a word of welcome, after all,--only those four chilling words. the boy's disappointment was so great, his heart so lonely and homesick, that he stood with downcast eyes, before his uncle, to hide the tears that glittered in them, and could not answer a word. trafford released his nephew's arm with a sigh. the boy was the very counterpart of his father, of brother noll, he thought,--the same fair, high forehead and curling locks, the same deep blue eyes, the same eager, impetuous manner. this resemblance touched him somewhat; he noted, also, that the boy's lips quivered a little, and so said, in a kindlier tone,-- "you're very welcome to culm, noll. are you tired with the journey?" "no--yes--some, i mean," stammered poor noll, winking hard to keep the tears back. "and you'd like some supper, i dare say," continued his uncle. "yes, by and by," the nephew managed to answer. a silence fell upon them here,--long and deep,--in which the eternal murmur of the sea stole in. trafford's eyes did not move from the boy's face; and at last he said, taking his hand,-- "you're wonderfully like your father, noll,--in more ways than one, i hope. can a lad like you ever be contented in this old house?" "i--i hope so, uncle richard," noll replied, mocking these words, however, by a very despairing tone. trafford smiled grimly. "he's weary of it already," he thought; "and who can wonder? noll and i couldn't have endured it at his age, i suppose." then he added aloud, "if you tire of it, noll, you shall have liberty to return to hastings whenever you choose. you're not to stay against your will, remember. you may find it lonely and dull, perhaps; if so, i leave you to go or stay, as you choose." the tone in which this was spoken was so sad that noll ventured to look up into his uncle's face. the gray eyes had lost their stern light, and looked very sorrowful. "i--i will never want to go back, uncle richard, if you would like me to stay," he said, quickly. "ah, you don't know what you say, noll," trafford answered, stroking the boy's hair; "it's a lonely place. for a boy it is horrible. even i sometimes find it but a weary resting-place. ah! wait and see, wait and see. i've little hope you'll stay longer than a month." at this noll's heart gave a leap of joy. "do you really _hope_ i'll stay, uncle richard?" he cried. trafford looked at the boy's eager, searching face for a second, then answered, "yes, if you can be contented." this was hardly such an answer as noll craved, yet it made his heart lighter. perhaps it was only uncle richard's way, he thought, which made it seem as though he was not welcome. the old black housekeeper, he remembered, had warned him not to mind it. with this thought, his heart grew somewhat more cheerful, and he began to take a brighter view of things. he noted the tall cases of books and the open organ, and unconsciously these evidences of taste and refinement made the thought of dwelling in the stone house more acceptable. if uncle richard would only care for him, he thought, all the rest would not matter. trafford let go his hand, saying, "go and get your supper, noll; hagar will show you. then, if you like, you can come back." the boy took two or three steps toward obeying, then, as if remembering some duty unperformed, turned and came back. "i had forgotten the letter,--papa's letter,--uncle richard," he said, drawing the missive from his pocket. "would you like it now?" trafford extended his hand without a word. noll placed the precious letter therein, and walked away, looking back at the door to see that his uncle had broken the seal. not till the boy's footsteps had died away did the uncle look upon the hurriedly-traced lines which the note contained. the letters were feebly made, hinting of the weakness of the hand which traced them. this was what he found:-- "my dear dick,--i write this to you from my dying-bed, not knowing that it will ever reach you, or that you are even upon the face of the earth. if ever you _do_ return,--if ever you receive this, be kind to my poor noll for my sake. make him your own,--he'll love you,--and make him such a man, before god, as you know i would have him. "if he has disappeared, look him up, search for him, and cherish the boy as my precious legacy. and, dear dick, look well to yourself. a man needs much when he lies where i am lying. we ought to have been more to each other these past years, not living with a great gulf, as it were, atween us. this and the thought of my boy is all that weighs upon me now. "and, dear dick, till we meet again, farewell, farewell. o. trafford." a sudden mist came across the reader's eyes, a sudden throb to his heart. brother noll! the blithe, warm-hearted, once precious brother! he who had astonished all his friends by studying for a minister, and who, with all the fervor of youth, had devoted every talent and energy to the sacred cause. how he had loved him once! how proud and happy he had been at his success! and here were words, his last thoughts on earth, breathed from the very depths of his heart, and thrilling with love for himself and this boy. they stirred the man's heart as it had not been stirred before since that dreary afternoon when all the joy and sunshine fled out of his heart and left it so cold and bitter. he had not realized before that brother noll had really ended his pilgrimage, and passed out of the earth, which, to himself, was such a weary abiding-place. now, with the last whispers of that dear heart before him, the whole bitter sense of his loss came upon him, and he covered his face, sighing heavily. back came the remembrance of the long and happy days of boyhood, with visions of the shining meadows where they strayed together; with visions of careless, joyful hours, when they sailed and fished and hunted the woods for purple grapes and glossy nuts; with visions of those calmer days when they grew up to manhood together,--noll always bright and brave and loving, and a check upon his own wilder spirits. now he was gone; and all the years to come could never again bring joy so deep and love so everlasting. yet, true and dear to the last, he had breathed his life out in one sweet message to himself, confiding his love and this boy to him as a precious legacy. trafford almost groaned when he thought of his loss. oh, what a cruel thing was death! a fierce, pitiless robber, seeking for the loveliest and brightest, it had lain in wait, all his life long, despoiling him of whatever he set his heart upon, he thought, and leaving him wrecked and desolate. he had thought that no death or sorrow could ever move him again; yet here was his heart aching as wretchedly as ever. was there no place in the wide, wide earth where such wretchedness could not pursue? he had hoped to find it in this wild and barren rock; yet here sorrow had crept in, bitter and poignant as in the busy city. trafford rose from his chair, put away the message from out of his sight, and sat down at his organ to still the pain in his heart with the charm of its music. noll had had his supper, and was sitting, sad and solitary, by hagar's fire in the kitchen. he would wait a little, he thought, before going back to the library, that uncle richard might have time to read his letter. he wondered what its contents could be, and wished and hoped that papa had written some message there for himself. would uncle richard tell him if there were? he wondered. then his thoughts went back over the sea to hastings, and there came up such pictures of the dear old home there, and the faces of his school friends flocked before him so vividly,--ned thorn's in particular,--that he could look about him only through tears that he strove in vain to banish. hagar had gone out with the candle, so the kitchen was quite dusk, save where the fire flared scarlet light on the wall and ceiling. suddenly, in this silence, there stole in a heavy throbbing, like the beating of a great, muffled heart, and with a slow and solemn movement, rolled and swept in long chains of sound through the house, till, at last, a clear, sweet, flutelike warble broke in and ran up and down, seeming to wind in and out with the heavy undertone. hagar came in just then with her flaming candle, and began to rattle about among her pots and kettles. "what is that?" noll asked, quickly, as the strains kept stealing in above the clatter which the old negress made. it had startled him at first, coming so suddenly, and corresponding so well with the gloom and mystery which seemed to fill the house. "bress ye, honey!" said the black old figure, stooping over the cooking utensils on the stone hearth, "don't ye know? dat's mas'r dick at his organ. he sits dar mos' times at ebenin', an' 'pears like i ken jes' tell his feelin's by de music he makes. sometimes i ken hear it jes' as sad as nuffin ye ken think ob, an' sometimes it's singin' as ef 'twas 'live and 'joicin.' it dun make ye homesick?" queried hagar, dropping her dishcloth and looking up into the boy's face. "no," noll answered, with a sigh, "'tisn't the music. it will all be gone in the morning, i guess," and tried to look his cheeriest. "you's tired out, chile," said hagar, with ready sympathy; "better go to bed. i's been makin' ye one in de room jes' side o' mas'r dick's. bes' room in de whole house!" the music had ceased, and noll left his seat and went groping his way along the dark, echoing hall, through the dimly-lighted dining-room to the library-door. entering, he found his uncle still seated before the organ, but with his head bent forward upon the music-rack, and apparently lost in deep thought, for he did not look up till noll stood beside him. trafford made a faint attempt to smile, and asked,-- "could hagar find you anything fit to eat? we can't live here as at hastings. the sea brings us our food." noll said something about not being hungry, and presently trafford asked, with the stem and gloomy look upon his face,-- "did you know that brother noll, your father, did a very unwise thing when he put you into my hands?" noll started at the strangeness of the question, and the bright color came into his face. "do you mean that papa did wrong?" he asked, quickly. "yes, so far as your good is concerned. i can be no companion for you. you would have got more good anywhere else than here." "don't say that, uncle richard!" noll pleaded. "why not?" trafford queried, not unkindly; "it is the truth." "papa said that you--you--" there was such a choking in noll's throat that he could get no further, and stopped, looking very much distressed. trafford took the boy's hand in his own. "my boy," he said, huskily, calling him by that title for the first time, "i'm but a poor wreck at best. i can teach you no good, and god knows i wouldn't be the means of putting a shadow of evil in your heart. your father says, 'make him such a man, before god, as you know i would have him.' he asked too much, noll. why, boy, i can't rule myself." noll said not a word. uncle richard was getting to be more of a mystery to him than culm rock had been. "and," continued trafford, "we will leave the matter thus: you shall be at liberty, after the first month, to go or stay, as you like. if you go, it shall be to stay away forever; if you stay, it shall be at your own risk. do you understand?" "yes, uncle richard." trafford saw the boy's lips quiver again, and turned quickly away; the face was so much like his dead brother's. noll came to him pretty soon, said "good-night," and went away. hagar guided the boy up to his room, bidding him good-night with many assurances that "'tw'u'd be pleasanter to-morrow, 'nough sight!" and left him to himself. the stars shone brightly over the sea. noll could not read his bible verses that night, for the familiar, precious gift of mamma was locked in the trunk away round the shore at culm; but he prayed with all the stronger longing for the saviour's pity and help; and then from his bed by one of the great windows, lay listening to the moaning of the tide below, which seemed the saddest, lonesomest sound he had ever heard. and his heart ached too. chapter vi. culm sights. when noll awoke the next morning, the sun was shining brightly in. it was not until after some long minutes of yawning and rubbing his eyes, that he comprehended where he was; then, with some chills of disappointment, he remembered, and bounded up to look out the window. the sea lay rippling, cool and fresh below. here and there faint trails of mist floated and hovered over the waves, but the breeze was fast tearing and blowing them away. with a feeling of delight, he saw on the far horizon-line the white film of shadowy sails. it showed that there was life and stir somewhere, he thought, and it was pleasant to think of them as bound for far-off hastings. then he remembered skipper ben and the "white gull," and wondered when he would return; and then mr. gray's note had not been written, he recollected. "well," thought noll, "i'll find time for it to-day, i guess. i wonder if my trunks will come this morning? and--when am i to begin my studies, and who am i to recite to?" this last thought had not entered his head before. there was evidently not a school of any kind upon culm rock, and of course uncle richard was the only person capable of teaching him anything. "i wonder if he will offer to teach me?" noll thought in perplexity, "or shall i have to ask him? i can't do that! he's so cold and stern; and besides, i don't believe he would like the trouble. i wonder if i am to grow up like those dull culm people?" he dressed himself, thinking busily enough of a dozen troublesome matters which had already sprung up to puzzle him, and with these in his head, went down-stairs. he found the dining-room at last, after getting into three or four empty, unoccupied rooms, and there found hagar putting the last dishes upon the breakfast-table. "you's lookin' brighter, honey," said she, gleefully. "didn't dis yer ole woman tell ye so? ki! i knowed how 'tw'u'd be las' night." "it _does_ seem pleasanter," noll admitted; "and where's uncle richard?" "mas'r dick? he's in de libr'y; goin' to call him dis minnit. breakfas' dun waitin' for ye both, honey; an', bress de lord! how much ye looks like yer father dis mornin'!" and hagar caressed the boy's hair with her skinny old hands, muttering, as she gazed affectionately in his face, "you's de bery picter ob him,--de bery picter!" so richard trafford thought as he answered the old housekeeper's call and entered the dining-room where his nephew was waiting with a cheery "good-morning, uncle richard." the boy's sunshiny face, somehow, made the great room brighter, trafford thought, and hagar bustled about and poured the coffee with a lighter heart than she had had since leaving her people at hastings. [illustration: "good morning, uncle richard," page .] "jes' what's been lackin' de whole time!" she thought to herself; "mas'r dick wants somethin' he ken love and talk to. 'pears like dar'll be a change in dis yer ole house afore long, de lord willin'." it was such a long time since the old negress had seen a young face, or heard the pleasant accents of a young voice, that she made various pretexts for lingering in the room while the two sat at the table, and though it was for the most part a silent meal, yet it was a wonderful pleasure to see noll eat, hagar thought. and when the two had left the table and gone to the library, she soliloquized, "nebber thought i'd see a day like dis yer, agen! wonder what mas'r dick t'inks o' de boy? bress de chile! if mas'r don't take to him, 'pears like he'll nebber take to nuffin. be like habbin' poor mas'r noll's face afore him de whole time, an' ef he ken stan' _dat_, athought lubbin' him, i's 'feard he's dun got colder'n a stone, de whole ob him. you jes' wait an' see, hagar!" noll followed his uncle from the breakfast-table into the library, hoping that he would at once say something about his books or studies, or at least hint what plans he had made concerning himself. it would be a great deal pleasanter, noll thought, to have uncle richard dispose of him, even in a stern, cold way, than to do nothing at all with him and remain indifferent as to whether he studied or grew up in ignorance. but trafford had relapsed into one of his gloomy, absent moods, and took up a book as soon as he reached the library, without a look or word for noll. the boy stood by one of the great windows and looked out on the sea, striving to drown his disappointment by thinking of other matters. when he had tired of this, and found that disappointment was long-lived, and would not be drowned, he loitered by the bookcases, reading the titles, now and then peering into a volume and looking over its top at his uncle, and thinking him a very cold or else a very forgetful man. when he had made the tour of the room several times, and was about to go out in despair, trafford looked up. "noll, did you wish to speak to me?" he asked, abruptly. the question came upon noll unawares. "yes, if--if you were not too--too busy," he stammered. "i thought--i hoped you would say something about my books--my studies, i mean, uncle richard." "what about them?" "why, whether i were to study with you, or by myself, or how; and whether i am to begin now, or wait a while," said noll, wishing that his uncle would look less keenly at him. trafford leaned his head upon his hand and reflected a little. at last he said,-- "you will wait, noll, till your month is up. there would be no use in beginning studies which, perchance, may end in so short a time. if, at the end of four weeks, you conclude to stay, then we will talk about study. till then, you will wait." noll's blue eyes said, as plainly as eyes could, "don't mention that month again, uncle richard!" but his tongue was silent, and he acquiesced in this decision by a nod of his head. "you can fill up the time," continued his uncle, "as you like. you had best make yourself acquainted with the rock before you decide to stay here. you will hardly explore it all in one day, i think;" and with this trafford turned again to his book. noll found his hat and went out, determined to keep a brave heart if uncle richard _was_ cold and gloomy. if there was no other way, he would _make_ him love him, he thought, though how that was to be done he had, as yet, but a very slight idea. he went through the dining-room, and from thence found his way to the broad front piazza which faced the sea, and where, the previous evening, he had stood so lonely and homesick. everything looked much cheerier to him now, and he ran down the sand, in front of the house, to the water's edge, resolved to see the bright side of everything which pertained to gray, barren culm. there were stranded shells and bright-hued weeds on the wet, glittering sand, which made noll's eyes sparkle with delight. "wouldn't ned's eyes open to see these!" he thought, "and wouldn't the dear old fellow like some for his museum! i'll gather a whole box full and send them up by the skipper some day." thinking of the skipper made noll remember his trunks, and he wondered if the "white gull" had continued her voyage farther down the shore. "there's a whole month to explore and pick up shells in," he said to himself, "and i'll take this forenoon to go around to the landing and see the skipper, if he's there." with this thought, he started off, hoping to find the "gull" still lying off the little wharf. the skipper seemed almost like an old friend, already; and, however rough he might be, he came from hastings, and this fact alone made the boy long for a sight of his face. so he hastened along the sand, toward culm, with an eye and ear for everything which he passed. great boulders, all green and fringed with sea-weed, were strewn everywhere,--in the yellow sand of the beach, in the line of the tide and waves which whitened themselves to foam, and murmured hoarsely against them. in some places the great mass of the rock came down so near the water's edge that only a slender path of pebbles was left between it and the waves. in high tide, noll thought, this narrow way must be quite covered, and he wondered why the sea did not carry it quite away. but in other places the beach was broad and smooth, quite wide enough for many horsemen to ride abreast. this morning the sea was peaceful and calm. neither did it look so vast and illimitable as on the previous night. the tide was going out, stranding great quantities of glittering weeds and all sorts of curious objects, the sight of which made noll's heart glad; but, without stopping to examine or preserve them, he hastened on, hoping to soon catch sight of the "gull." but in this he was disappointed. no sooner had he passed the curve of the shore than he saw that the skipper and his craft were gone. there were his trunks to see to, however; so he kept on, though at a slower pace, wondering if those dull-looking fishermen could tell him when the "gull" would return. not half so fair or comely did the dozen houses look as in the gold of sunset. such racked, weather-beaten dwellings noll had never seen before. it was a mystery how they could ever stand in a high gale. not a solitary vestige of anything green was there to enliven the barrenness. long lines of seine were stretched upon stakes, and dangled from the sides of boulders upon the shore. in the sand some dirty-faced children were playing, who got up and ran away at his approach. a little farther on he came upon two fishermen dividing a basket of fish. they looked up, stared, and nodded respectfully. "when did the skipper go?" noll asked, pausing. "ben, ye mean?" asked one of the men, suspending his labor to take a more leisurely survey of the questioner. "yes, ben tate," said noll. "afore sunrise," said the other. "did ye want the skipper, lad?" "no, not particularly. when is he going to stop here again?" "ben? why, he comes mondays and thursdays, he does," said the fisherman; "ye'll find him here day after to-morrow, lad,--early, too, mos' like." "can you tell me where he left my trunks?" queried noll. at this question, the men looked perplexed. "do ye mean boxes like?" they asked, after a time. noll was astonished at this lack of knowledge, but managed to explain to the two what he meant. "ye'd best go up to dirk sharp's," said one; "the skipper leaves much with dirk, he does, an' ye'll be like to find 'em there." "back o' the wharf, lad,--back o' the wharf dirk lives," the other called to noll, as he walked away. dirk sharp's house was rather smarter than the others,--at least, it was in better repair; but the look which noll caught of its interior, as he stood rapping by the open door, sufficed to destroy any anticipations of industry or thriftiness which he might have formed from the dwelling's exterior. dirk was a great broad-shouldered, slouching fellow, with a general air of shiftlessness about him. at noll's summons, he came lounging out of an inner room, and, catching sight of the boy, said,-- "lookin' for yer trunks, lad? the skipper said ye was to hev 'em las' night, shore; but ye see," pulling up his sleeve, "as how i got a cut what's hindered," displaying a long, bloody wound upon his arm. "ye sh'u'd ha' had 'em, lad, but for that, as the skipper said. but ef ye ken wait till the men get back from their seinin'--ho! there be bob an' darby now," he exclaimed, as he spied the two whom noll had just passed. "ahoy there, lads! here be a job fur ye!" he cried to the fishermen. the two left their work and came up to dirk. "here be two trunks to go 'roun' to the stone house fur this lad," said he. "ef ye'll shoulder 'em roun' the shore, yer welcome to what the skipper left fur't. what ye say, lads?" "we'll do't fur ye, dirk, seein' yer cut," said the one who was called darby. "where be the boxes, man?" dirk led them into the inner room, from whence they presently emerged, each with a trunk on his shoulder, and, bending with their burdens, started up the shore. noll followed slowly after, wondering why they did not use their boat, instead of enduring such back-breaking toil. it struck him that he had never seen such dull, apathetic faces as these culm people had. such utter shiftlessness as everything about the cluster of tumble-downs betokened he had never imagined. perhaps all this dreariness and desolation made itself more keenly felt because the boy was just from the city, which teemed with life and bustle and energy. in its poorest quarter he had never seen such a lack of tidiness as the interior of dirk sharp's house presented. he followed the slowly-plodding trunk-bearers up the yellow sand, wondering if there was such another wretched, desolate, and forlorn place as culm rock in the whole wide earth. chapter vii. how the month was spent. they were a long time in getting to the stone house. before they passed the curve of the shore, the sun was well up in the sky and beat down with fervid rays upon the sweating, toiling fishermen. noll rejoiced when the trunks were safely landed in his room at the top of the stairs, and the men had taken their departure, each with a piece of silver in addition to the skipper's fee. it seemed to him that there was no bright side to the life over in those wretched culm huts. if there was, he could not see it. it puzzled and perplexed him to imagine how human beings could live in such ignorance and apathy of all that was transpiring about them; and the sights which he had seen in the miserable, tumbledown village left a very disagreeable feeling in his heart. somehow, his hitherto blithe spirits were dampened by this morning's walk, and he thought the great bare rock would be a great deal more endurable if the fish-huts and their inmates were only off it. true, it would be much lonelier, but that was far more endurable than the sight of such shiftlessness and ignorance. he wondered if uncle richard ever went among them, and whether he really knew what a degraded people they had got to be. if he did know, noll thought, it was very strange that he did not try to lift them up, teach them something, or, at least, have a school opened for the children. papa, he thought, would have done something for them long ago. there would have been a little schoolhouse and a teacher. a new wharf, he was sure, would have taken the place of the rickety old thing; and by degrees the women would have learned thrift and neatness, and the men energy and industry. to be sure, it seemed a great deal to do for such dull, apathetic people, who seemed not to have a particle of energy and ambition about them; but papa, he thought, could have done it, and _would_ have done it, had he lived here as long as uncle richard. he remembered a little sea-town, where they had lived before dwelling in hastings, how wretched and dirty and ignorant the fishermen were, and what a great change for the better came over the place through his father's efforts. but now papa was gone, and uncle richard? the man was so much of a mystery to noll, as yet, that he did not know whether there were any hopes of his setting himself to the task of lifting the culm people out of their slough of wretchedness; but he hoped that his uncle would see and realize what needed to be done before another year had worn away. and if he did not? why, then they would have to go on in their old way, he thought. he wished that he might do something toward the work; but, then, how could he? he had no money, and no means of getting any, and he was not fifteen. noll put away, or tried to do so, all thoughts of the culm people and their life, and went to writing the note which skipper ben was to carry to mr. gray on his return to hastings. when it was finished, he unlocked his trunk, took a look at the thumbed, worn little bible which had been mamma's; at the familiar covers of his school-books, which brought up a hundred visions of pleasant, happy hours in the great, buzzing schoolroom,--wondered if he should ever know such joyful moments again,--it seemed quite an impossibility, now,--and took up, one by one, the keepsakes and knick-knacks which his boy friends had given him on his departure. there was the new ball which sam scott had given him,--how sam _did_ love ball-playing!--and which was now not of the least possible use to him. there was a great bundle of fish-hooks which archie phillips had bestowed upon him, more in fun than in earnest, but which noll had treasured because archie was his seat-mate. then there were all sorts of relics and mementos, such as boys set their hearts upon,--bits of carved wood, favorite drawing pencils, a purple amethyst, which johnny moore, whose father had been in india, had given him, and, best of all, there was ned thorn's dear, merry face beaming upon him from out the little ebony frame in which ned's own hands had placed it the night before his departure. looking at this face, and gazing upon these mementos of his friends, did not serve to make noll at all more contented with culm rock and the prospect before him, and, being presently made aware of this by the heaviness which began to settle upon his heart, he closed the trunks in great haste, and ran off. the day passed quickly enough, even for noll, and was only the first of many happy ones spent by the shore and on the rocks. the boy had a taste for treasuring curiosities, and in the wonderful wealth of weed and shell which the sea was continually throwing upon the sand, his love of collecting and preserving was gratified. every return of the tide was a great sweeping in of the wonders and beauties of the sea to add to his stores. there was always something new and strange to excite his delight and admiration. then, too, there were long hours spent in climbing the rocks, till all its cliffs and hollows began to grow familiar to the boy. he climbed to wind cliff, and from its top looked down on the culm houses on the sand, and into the gulls' nests far below in the crevices of the rock, and enjoyed their wild wheeling and screaming about him as he stood there. from this high look-out he often stood looking upon such sunsets as he had never seen before. high up toward the zenith the sun shot its great banners of flame as it dipped in the sea, and made the vast expanse glow and glitter. in the east the sails flitted along the purple line of the horizon, and down in the dusk shadow of the rock he could see the grim stone house and the blue thread of smoke from hagar's kitchen chimney. sometimes he made use of archie phillips' gift, and caught fish off the rocks, much to the advantage of the old housekeeper's dinner-table. one week after another passed, and still there seemed plenty of variety and amusement for every day. in one of his rambles, noll came upon a little cluster of graves, with the rudest of monuments to mark them,--most of them were rough head-boards in which the sleeper's name was cut or scratched,--and this sight of such poor, uncared-for resting-places in the sand made him sad and thoughtful for more than one day. what if he were to die and be buried there, too? he surmised. the thought chilled him. true, he knew that heaven beyond was just as bright and fair for all that the graves were so forlorn and dreary; but the thought of lying far from all his friends, on bare and lonely culm rock, oppressed him till new sights and adventures had somewhat effaced the remembrance of the sight from his mind. nearly one day was spent in the pine woods, whose fragrance and sombre light, and the deep hush reigning within, both awed and delighted him. then there were days of storm and mist which could only be spent in his chamber or in the library. uncle richard was generally as silent and stern as ever, and sometimes chilled the boy's heart with his coldness, and sometimes touched it by his prolonged and heavy sadness. noll found more ways than one to make his affection known, and even when his uncle was stern almost to harshness, found some excuse for his unkindness in his warm heart, thinking that all would come right at last, and uncle richard lose his coldness and be as kind and regardful as he could wish. only once did he lose his temper and rebel, and for this noll repented heartily as soon as it was done. he went into the library one afternoon and asked permission to go around to culm and climb up to the gulls' nests on wind cliff. he had explored every nook of the rock, and this was a pleasure which he had reserved till the last, and, though not quite confident of being successful in an attempt to scale the precipitous cliff, yet he was eager and anxious enough to make the trial. trafford was in one of his gloomiest moods, and replied, sternly,-- "you would like to break your neck, i suppose, sir, and give me the pleasure of seeing you brought home bruised and bleeding! no, you shall not go near wind cliff!" the angry color came into noll's face in an instant. "i believe it _would_ be a pleasure for you to see me brought home with a broken neck!" he cried, impetuously; "and oh, i wish i were back in hastings, where somebody cared for me!" and with this noll hurried out of the library, slamming the door behind him. trafford heard these words with astonishment; then, as his nephew's footsteps died away along the hall, he covered his face and sighed heavily. "ah," he thought, "i did it for his good; yet--the boy distrusts me. he can't know what i would be to him if i could; how can he? he thinks me cold and unloving, and--well, he has reason to." hardly had ten minutes elapsed before the door swung softly open, and noll re-entered. trafford did not look up, did not hear him, in fact, and presently was startled by a voice saying, brokenly,-- "uncle richard!" then he looked up. noll stood before him with downcast eyes and a trembling lip. "well?" said trafford, speaking neither with coldness nor yet with kindness. "i--i--i didn't mean what i said a few minutes ago, uncle richard," said noll, chokingly; "there was not a word of truth in it, and i oughtn't to have said such a thing." a deep silence followed, broken at last by another "well?" from trafford's lips. "will you forgive me, uncle richard? i was angry then, and i _don't_ wish i was back at hastings," said noll, grieved, and fearful lest he had only put a wider gulf between himself and his uncle. trafford was silent so long that the boy ventured to raise his eyes. to his surprise and astonishment, his uncle was regarding him with eyes that were neither cold nor stern, but almost tender and yearning. "oh! do you forgive me?" noll cried, taking hope. trafford laid his hand on his nephew's fair, curly hair, stroking it gently as he had once before done on the boy's arrival. "you need not ask that, noll," he said. "go where you will,--i can trust you." "but i'll not go to wind cliff?" said noll, "and i wish--you don't know how much, uncle richard!--that i could take back those words." "there is no need," said his uncle. "go where you will." noll took his departure, more confident than ever that under uncle richard's coldness and seeming indifference there lurked love and regard for himself, and, true to his word, gave up all idea of ascending the cliff. as for trafford, though outwardly stern and cold as ever, his heart went out to the boy more yearningly after that. the month was drawing near its close, and in spite of himself, he could not regard the approaching day on which noll's decision was to be made without some forebodings. yet, lest the boy should be influenced by perceiving that his uncle wished his presence, trafford was gloomier and more forbidding than ever, those last days. the boy should be perfectly free to make his choice, he thought; he would use no influence to change or bias his decision in any manner. "everything i have set my heart upon has been snatched away by death," he said to himself; "noll shall stay only because it is his choice. never will i, by look or voice, influence him to share my life and loneliness. if he stays, and i love him as my own, just so surely will death snatch him away." but that the boy was a great comfort and delight to him he could not but confess to himself. he was surprised to find how, in those few short weeks, his cheery presence had won upon his heart. he watched him from the window as he walked on the sand below, searching for sea treasures, and could not endure the thought of having the boyish figure gone forever out of his sight. neither could he think of the loneliness and silence which would settle down upon the old house when the gladsome voice and quick footsteps were gone, without a sigh. now it was a great pleasure to go out to the tea-table at evening and find noll, fresh and ruddy from his ramble on the shore and rocks, awaiting him one side the table with his grave and yet merry face. how would it be when he was gone? it were a great deal better, trafford thought, that the boy had never come to brighten the old house with sunshine for a brief space, if now he went and left it darker and gloomier than before. and would he go? he should be left to choose for himself, the uncle thought, though the decision proved an unfavorable one. chapter viii. noll's decision. noll stayed. the day on which the decision was to be made he came into the library, where trafford sat, saying, gravely, "uncle richard, to-day i was to choose, you know; and i would rather stay at culm rock and be your boy than to go back. may i?" "may you?" exclaimed trafford, on the impulse of the moment, while even his heavy heart was glad. "how can you ask that? oh, noll! do you know what you are doing?" "to be sure, uncle richard! i'm going to stay with you," replied noll, without any shadow of regret in his eyes. "ah, boy, i fear you will rue it," said his uncle, shaking his head mournfully; "remember, whatever befalls, that i did not bid you stay,--it was at your own risk." "why, what do you mean?" noll asked, with a puzzled face,--"what is to befall me, uncle richard?" "i know not,--i know not," trafford answered; "there may be nothing to harm you; yet death ever snatches all that is dear to me, and i tremble for you, my boy." noll looked grave and puzzled still. "i don't understand, uncle richard," he said. "no; how can you?" his uncle said, after a pause. "to _you_, death is only god's hand; to me, it--oh, noll, i cannot tell you what it is! i don't wish to shock you, boy, but i'm a long way from where your father was when he penned me that calm note,--lying in the very arms of death at the moment." noll was silent. "yes," continued trafford, "for me there is no brightness beyond the depths of the grave. all is dark,--dark! and so many of my friends have vanished in it,--so many have been lost to me there! ah, my hope was all wrecked long ago!" noll looked up quickly, with, "papa lost to you, to me, uncle richard? oh, that is not true at all! papa _lost_ to us?" "not to you, not to you, noll, thank god!" trafford replied; "but to me,--yes! his faith he left to you,--i can see, i feel it; but i have none." noll looked up to the sad-eyed, gloomy man, and fathomed the mystery of his sorrow at once. who would not be forever sad with nothing beyond the grave but blank and darkness in which loved hearts were alway vanishing? "oh, uncle richard," said he, "i'm sorry for you!" "i don't deserve it," trafford said, with unusual tenderness. "how can you love such a man as myself? oh, my boy, i've been harsh with you, and cold and stern; go where you'll find some one that can care for you better than i!" but noll's face suddenly grew bright. "i wouldn't do that," he said, earnestly,--"never, uncle richard! papa said i was to live with you and love you, and i _will_, unless you wish me to go. and if you do not, don't tell me to leave you again!" "i will not, noll," trafford said. so it was all settled, at last, and noll's heart--in spite of uncle richard's gloominess--was light and glad. he would stay and see if the man's sorrow and wretchedness could not be driven away, he thought; perhaps--who could tell?--he would lose his sternness, and become kind and regardful, and follow in the path which papa had trod. it all seemed very doubtful now, it was true, but such a thing _might_ be, after a time. "yes," said noll, as he thought of these things, "i would much rather stay with you, uncle richard--always. and now shall we talk about studies?" "true, we were to consider that matter," said his uncle; "yet i had little hope that you would stay, then. what do you study, noll?" "at hastings i had arithmetic and geography and latin. then with papa i studied history, and a little--a very little, uncle richard--in mineralogy,--he liked that so, you know." "and what do you propose to do here?" asked his uncle. "i would like to do just the same," said noll, "and keep up with my class, perhaps." "he has still some thoughts of returning?" trafford wondered; then said aloud, "well, it shall be as you like. and when will you commence?" "at once, if you please, uncle richard. i've had such a long vacation that it will seem good to get back to books once more; they're all waiting for me up-stairs. shall i get them?" noll bounded away as his uncle nodded assent, and went up-stairs with a merry whistle. trafford listened to the quick footsteps and the light-hearted music, and really rejoiced that they were not to flee and leave the old house desolate. it would be a brighter dwelling than it had been till--till death came, he thought. and if he could not teach the boy as brother noll had desired him to do, yet he would see that in the matter of books and study he had every advantage. so, when the boy came down with his arms full of books, he set himself to his task with an earnestness that pleased noll wonderfully. "uncle richard means that i shall progress," he thought; "and oh, i _do_ hope i can keep up with ned and the rest!" trafford found his nephew an apt scholar. he had expected that, however, for the boy came of a book-loving race. very likely, had the pupil proved but a dull one, he would sometimes have wearied of his task of hearing the recitations every day; but as it was, he found a positive pleasure in his capacity as noll's instructor, and generally a relief from his gloominess. noll's study-hours were at his own discretion; the recitations came in the afternoon, and after four the boy had the remainder of the day to spend as he liked. sometimes the shore claimed him, sometimes the rocks. then there were excursions, in company with old hagar, to the solitude of the pines, after cones and dry, resinous branches for the kitchen fire, which never seemed to burn well unless the old housekeeper had an abundance of this kindling material. "nuffin like dem yer pine cones fur winter mornin's," hagar always said; and many were the visits which she and "mas'r noll" paid to the woods, returning with laden baskets. somehow, after a time, the boy found more delight in these simple pleasures than at first. once, with all his friends about him, he would have found no entertainment in a journey into the forest after cones,--there were other delights in abundance, then; but now, forced to get all his enjoyment out of the simplest, humblest events, this work of gathering winter fuel grew to be a positive pleasure, after the recitations were over, and the short october days drawing to a close. then, too, the winter stores were being brought down from hastings on the "gull," and skipper ben and his crew came often to the stone house, to break the monotony of days in some little manner. "yer 'live an' hearty yet, lad!" was his greeting as he came around in the "gull's" boat with a variety of provisions for winter use, one cloudy afternoon. "well, i mus' say i didn't think to find ye so? lonesome any? goin' to let me carry ye back to hastings afore the 'gull' stops runnin'?" "no," said noll, bravely, "i'm going to stay, skipper." "ye'll find the weather a tough un, bime-by," drawled mr. snape, as he rolled a flour-barrel up the sand. "yes," said the skipper, "winters are mos'ly hard uns down here. an' what ye goin' to do when the 'gull' stops cruisin' fur the season, an' ye can't get a word frum the city?" this was a contingency for which noll had made no calculation. not hear a word from hastings for a whole long winter? "well," he said at last, "that isn't pleasant to think of, but i'll manage somehow, skipper. and you must bring me a great packet of letters to last till the 'gull' commences her trips again." "ay, lad," said the skipper, his eyes twinkling. "what be these?" drawing a parcel from under his pea-jacket. noll's eager "letters! and for me?" tickled the old sailor wonderfully. "yes, these be letters," he said, chuckling; "jack, here, talks o' runnin' a smack down this winter purpose to bring yer mail!" "'tw'u'd take something bigger'n a smack," observed mr. snape, looking askance to see how noll grasped the precious parcel. "all yer frien's said as how i was to bring ye back on the 'gull,'" called the skipper after him, as noll went running across the sand toward the house. "oh, how i wish--no! i can't go, skipper; it's no use talking," noll answered back as he gained the piazza, and there sat down to open his precious missives. five or six of his boy friends had agreed to surprise him each with a letter, and here they were, together with a kind note from mr. gray. what a comfort and pleasure they were! it was almost like seeing the writers' faces and talking with them, noll thought. trafford came out upon the piazza while he sat there absorbed in their contents, and as he walked along toward the skipper, who stood waiting at the bottom of the steps, noted the boy's eager, delighted face, and wondered why the lad did not return to his friends, where, it was quite evident, he was much desired and longed for. why did he stay on this dreary rock? what was there here to make the place endurable for a boy of his age and tastes? he could not see. those were the last letters which noll received. the "gull" made one or two trips after that, but the first of november brought keen, sleety weather, and skipper ben came no more; so that for the long months ahead culm rock was to be shut out from the world entirely. the thought of being isolated from all assistance, in case of illness or trouble, oppressed noll somewhat till he had accustomed himself to the thought, and then a vague dread of loneliness and homesickness in the dragging days of winter haunted him for a time. but getting bravely over these, and interested in his studies, he began to find that the november days were not so intolerable, after all. uncle richard had surprised him one day by bringing in a writing-table, from one of the unoccupied rooms, and placing it opposite his own chair by one of the tall windows. "for your books, noll," he had said; and from thenceforth the boy's well-worn school volumes had a place there, and study in the cold chamber was exchanged for the comfortable warmth of the library. it was not an unpleasant schoolroom, by any means, though the high, old window framed nothing but a great stretch of sea and sky,--both, this chilly month of november, often gray and misty. instead of the roar and din of the city which sounded about the dearly-remembered room at hastings, there was the hoarse murmur of the tide on its rocks and pebbles, the wild whirling of the wind and its screaming around the corners and over the chimney,--not cheery sounds, any of them; yet, in the still afternoons, and the cozy quietness of long evenings when the lamp shed its mild light over the room, and the fire on the hearth shone redly, there was such calm and peace for books and study as noll found both pleasant and profitable. in these days, you may be sure, the boy's thoughts were often across the vast gray sea in front of his window, even when he was bending over his problems or translations; not that he regretted his decision to share uncle richard's life with him, nor that he had any thoughts of fleeing away, but those flitting sails on the far horizon were messengers which alway bore on their white wings thoughts of hope and love and patience to those over the sea. it was not the natural sphere of a boy,--this monotonous, unvarying round of days, with no companions of his age or tastes; and, as week after week passed, and noll was still blithe and apparently contented, trafford wondered and conjectured, and could not surmise a reason for it; though, had he observed closely, it would not have been a great mystery. for noll there was the unfailing comfort of the little bible which lay beside the huge old bed up-stairs, and which gave the double comfort of its own blessedness and the remembrance of its preciousness to her who turned its pages to the last; and there were ever the pitying ears of jesus ready to hear the story of discouragement and loneliness, when the burden of slow, weary days seemed _too_ heavy to bear. into trafford's life had come more brightness and content than he had known since that dark day when his wife left him and vanished in the darkness which, to his eyes, filled and hovered over the grave. it did not, as yet, seem like a real and lasting joy; he trembled lest some day it should prove but a dream, a vision, and so vanish. he often laid aside his book and looked up, half expecting to find the room as silent and lonely as when, of old, he was the only inhabitant of the great library; but there, at the opposite window, sat the pleasant figure of the boy, busy with his books, and as real and tangible as heart could wish. it was a perpetual delight, though he hid all knowledge of it from noll, to feel that the boy was present, to see him curled up in a great chair by the fire, watching the flames or the depths of rosy coal, of a twilight, and to feel that he was _his_,--a precious gift to love and cherish. so the man's heart began to go out toward the boy,--tremblingly, warningly at first, then, as he found him true and worthy, with all its might and all the fervor of which it was capable. chapter ix. dirk's trouble. noll closed his books one afternoon after recitations, saying, "i'll put on my overcoat, uncle richard, and take a run up the shore,--just for exercise. the waves are monstrous, and how they thunder! i haven't seen them so large since i came to culm." "look out for the tide," continued his uncle; "keep away from that narrow strip of sand up the shore, for the waves will cover it in an hour." noll promised to be cautious, and ran off after cap and overcoat. hagar met him as he came down from his room all muffled for the walk, and exclaimed,-- "bress ye, honey! where ye bound fur now? dis yer is a drefful bad time on de shore! i's 'feard to hev ye roun' dar!" looking at him anxiously. noll laughed merrily. "do you think i'm too small to take care of myself, hagar?" he asked; "i'm only going for a walk, and to see the waves. i'll be back for supper with uncle richard." the sky was wild and gray with clouds. a keen, chilly wind swept fiercely over the rocks and along the shore, and the dark, foam-fringed waves rode grandly in upon the beach with a thunderous shock as they flew into spray. some of the spray mist wet noll's face, even as he stood upon the piazza steps. but, warmly clad, and loving the sight of the wild tumult, he started with a light heart for his walk up the shore. as far as he could see, the sea was dark and gloomy, with long curves of foam whitening its surface and gleaming on the crests of its racing waves. at his feet, on the sand, lay great tangles of kelp and flecks of yeasty froth. the air was keen, and frosty enough to film the still pools in the hollows with brittle ice, and where the spray fell upon the rocks, it congealed and cased the old boulders with glittering mail. not a sail was there in sight, and noll thought the sea had never looked so vast and lonely as now. along the horizon the clouds were white-edged, and seemed to open and lead away into illimitable distances of vapor. he stopped under the shelter of a rock to look behind him, over the path which he had trodden. the stone house looked dark and forbidding, like everything else under this wild gray sky; but noll had long ago ceased to consider it as resembling a prison. it was home, now, and so took a fairer, brighter shape in his eyes. beyond, the pines stood up against the sky, full of sombreness and inky shadow. "how cold and desolate everything is!" thought noll; "but it's not half so gloomy as it seems, after all. i wish, though, that ned--dear fellow!--was here, just to make it lively once in a while." he walked on, listening to the heavy thunder of waves, and looking upon the troubled waste of sea, till he came to the curve of the shore. here lay the narrow path of pebbles against which his uncle had warned him. but there seemed no immediate danger, for the path looked as wide as ever, and as there was yet an hour before the tide would be in, noll hurried across, the salt spray flying wildly about him. "i'll go on a little further," he thought, "and i shall get home long enough before tea-time, then." having gone a little way, however, he chanced to remember that he had not been at culm village for a month, at least, and longed to take a run down to the little cluster of houses. "how the waves will dash in there!" he thought; "and i wonder how those huts stand such a tempest as this? i've a good mind to go, anyhow,--it's such a good chance to see the place in a gale." he wavered and walked hesitatingly about in the sand for a few minutes, and at last decided to go. he ran and walked by turns, the wind blowing his curly locks in his eyes and taking his breath almost away with its fierce gusts; yet he kept on. it seemed as if the waves jarred and thundered heavier on this culm side than on his own quarter of the rock; at any rate, the wind was more powerful, and blew the spray upon him in showers. "i'll get drenched, if the wind keeps on like this!" he thought; "if i weren't so near, i'd turn back; but the houses are in sight, already, and i've got to get acquainted with salt water. i'll keep on!" when he drew near the little settlement, he was tired enough with running and battling the wind, and was content to take a slower pace. never had the fishermen's huts looked so forlorn and miserable as now. noll half expected to see them come tumbling and rolling along the sand in every gust of wind which struck them; yet, with some mysterious attraction to their sandy foundations, they held their own, though some of them creaked and groaned with the strain which was brought to bear upon their timbers. the boy kept on toward the little wharf, over which the waves rolled and tumbled furiously, without meeting a soul. the water dashed so high and wildly up the sand that he was obliged to keep well up beside the houses to escape a drenching. he thought he had never looked upon so grand a sight as the sea presented here,--all its vast waste lashed into great waves that came roaring in like white-maned monsters to dash themselves upon the laud. standing here, close by dirk sharp's door, noll suddenly fancied he heard a faint wail within. he was not at all sure, the sea thundered so, and the wind screamed so shrilly about the miserable dwelling; but presently, in a slight lull of the tempest, he heard the wail--if wail it was--again. it sounded like the voice of a child,--a child suffering illness or pain. "i wonder if dirk has any little ones?" thought noll; "and what can he do with them, if they are ill?" mentally hoping that his ears had deceived him, and that no one on the desolate rock stood in need of aid which they could not have, he was about to turn away and retrace his steps homeward, as the sky seemed to shut down grayer and darker than before, and nightfall was approaching. but at that instant the door of the dwelling opened, and out came dirk, beating his breast and crying aloud, whether with pain or grief noll was too surprised to notice at first. the man failed to see the lad standing close by his door-step till he had taken several strides up and down the sand, where the wind blew the spray full upon him,--walking there hatless and coatless. when he did perceive him, he stopped short, exclaiming, almost fiercely,-- "what _ye_ here fur, lad?--what ye here fur? the lord knows it's no place fur the sort ye b'long to!" "i was looking at the sea," said noll; "and--and--what's the matter, dirk?" "nothin' that'll do ye any good ter know!" cried dirk, roughly, beginning to pace up and down the sand again. "ye can't know nothin' o' trouble, lad! how ken ye?" noll hardly knew what answer to make to this vehement question, and finally made none at all, but asked,-- "are any of your family ill, dirk?" "ill? sick, ye mean? o lord! yes, yes,--and dyin'!" noll started. some one ill and dying on this dreary, wretched rock! and no doctor to give aid. he did not know how far he might dare to interrogate dirk in his present half-frenzied condition, but ventured, after a minute or two of silence, to ask,-- "is it one of the children?" "yes, my little gal!" said dirk, groaning,--"my little gal it is, an' nothin' to keep her frum it. o lord! seems as ef i sh'u'd go mad!" and he threw up his hands to the lowering sky in despair, and faced about to the sea, letting the cold drops drive into his face. noll was fain to comfort him, but was at a loss how to offer consolation to such anguish as dirk's. "isn't there some one on the rock that can help, that knows something about medicine?" he asked, eagerly. "no, no, lad!" dirk cried, "there ain't a soul this side o' the sea ken help my little gal! ye don' know nothin' o' trouble, lad! ye don' know what 'tis ter feel that yer chile's dyin' fur want o' somethin' to save it! o lord! seems as ef i c'u'd swim through this sea to hastings fur my little gal!" he rushed down to the boiling surf, and noll half expected to see him throw himself into the sea; but he came back, drenched with a great wave, with despair and agony upon his face. "here, lad," he exclaimed, "come in,--come in an' see what trouble is! ye don' know. how ken ye?" noll followed, and dirk pushed open the door of his dwelling. the air which met the boy as he entered the small, low room was so close and foul that he almost staggered back. the floor was bare, and through a crack under the door the keen wind swept in across it, flaring the fire on the stone hearth and puffing ashes and smoke about. a fishy odor was upon everything. household utensils were scattered about in front of the hearth, occupying a quarter of the room, and what few chairs and other articles of wooden furniture there were, were fairly black with dirt and smoke. noll had never before entered a dwelling so filthy, wretched, and miserable as this. "here, lad," said dirk, brokenly,--"here--be--the--little gal," and pointed to one corner, where, watched over by a thin, slovenly woman, the child lay on its little bed. the mother did not take her eyes off the girl, and noll went forward, with much inward repugnance, to look upon dirk's treasure. the child's cheeks were flushed a bright red, and it lay with drowsy, heavy-lidded eyes, uttering, at intervals, a low wail. noll shivered, and involuntarily thought of those dreary, desolate graves which he stumbled upon in one of his rambles. could nothing be done? must the child die for lack of a little medicine? he looked through the little dirt-crusted window upon the tossing sea, and saw what a hopeless barrier it interposed between them and aid. he thought of uncle richard, and knew that it was useless to expect aid from that direction; and then he thought of _hagar_! she was a good nurse, he remembered, and knew--or claimed to know--a vast deal about medicine. perhaps she could help this child! he thought, with a glad heart, and if she could! his heart suddenly sank, for he remembered that the old housekeeper could not make a journey through the storm and tempest, even had she the necessary skill. "but," he thought to himself, "i can tell her about the child,--it's got a fever,--and she can send medicines; and to-morrow, if it's pleasant, she can come herself!" and thinking thus, noll turned to dirk, with-- "i can get you some medicines, i think, from our old housekeeper. may i? shall i try?" the fisherman was silent with surprise. he would probably have sooner expected aid from across the raging sea than from this lad. noll read an answer in his eyes, and hastened to the door, and bounded away without waiting for any more words or explanations. how fast it had grown dark while he was in dirk's hut! the horizon was quite hidden, so was all the wide waste a half-mile from shore; but with the coming of night the sea had lost none of its thunder, nor the wind aught of its fierceness. noll ran till he was out of breath. then he walked, thinking that the homeward path was wonderfully long. then he ran again, feeling almost as if the child's life depended upon his exertions, and seeming to hear its wail above all the din of wind and waves. suddenly he plashed to his ankles, and this brought his headlong race to an abrupt termination. what could it mean? then he remembered, with a sudden chill, what, in his eagerness and anxiety, he had entirely forgotten,--the tide was coming in, and was already over the path which uncle richard warned him against. he looked back. the beach over which he had come glimmered faintly in the dusk, with its long line of breakers gleaming far up and down. back there in the darkness, he thought, dirk's child was dying for want of medicine. oh! what to do? he looked down at the foam creeping about his ankles, and said to himself,-- "pshaw! it's only over shoe, now, and my feet are wet already. i'll dash through; 'twon't take but three minutes, and i _can't_ wait!" he sprang on, thinking to clear the short strip, which the tide had covered, with a few bounds. a wave, high and broad, which had been gathering power and volume in all its long, onward course, came sweeping thunderingly in and engulfed him. chapter x. in the sea. noll's presence of mind enabled him to clutch the jagged sides of the rock desperately, so that in the wave's return he was not drawn with it into the sea depths. stunned, strangled, half blinded, and impelled by a sudden horror of death in the cold, treacherous sea, he took two or three forward steps, fell, then rose and strove to struggle on. but a little hollow in the path let him down into the flood to his waist. the spray flew into his eyes and mouth, and breathless and bewildered he fell again, this time to disappear under the foam-flecked water. he struggled up to air and life at last, with many gasps for breath, and once more clutched at the rocks behind him. it all seemed like the terror of a dream, not real and threatening. was he to be drowned? some sudden thought of the pleasantness of life, of dear friends across this same cruel, ravenous sea, of uncle richard and his warning, came to him here. to be drowned in this dark, chill, raging flood? oh! no, no! then he saw, out in the gloom and mistiness, the white gleaming of a wave-crest, rising and sinking, but sweeping steadily toward him, and knew that it would dash upon his narrow foothold. could he survive another? then from noll's lips came a shrill cry, which rose above the thunder and battering of the sea; and, whether from terror or whether from the fact that the dear name was so warm and vivid in his heart at that moment, the cry was not "help!" but, "papa, papa!" the cry was answered!--at least, noll fancied it was, and clung to the jagged edges of rock with a new love of life in his heart, and, with his eyes on the approaching wave, which began to loom up dark and vast, cried out again with all his might. out of the darkness which hovered over his submerged path beyond, a figure came struggling,--battling the water and making desperate efforts to run,--crying,-- "noll, noll! where are you?" "here,--uncle richard,--quick!" answered the boy, clinging desperately to his only refuge,--the slippery, icy rocks. the wave came thunderingly in, burst, and hid uncle and nephew from each other. trafford uttered a groan of despair, and stood, for an instant, like one palsied. back swept the flood, leaving the sand bare for a minute, and with a shout, the master of the stone house rushed forward, seized the figure which had fallen there, and sprang away toward the sand and safety. he gained it, and tremblingly laid his burden down. had he only saved a body from which the life had flown? "oh, noll!" he cried, brokenly,--"noll, noll!" only the sea and the wailing of the wind answered him. hurriedly gathering the boy in his arms, he started for the house, running and stumbling through the sand and over the rocks, fearful lest he should reach its warmth and shelter too late. but before he had gained half the distance between him and the redly-gleaming window, where he knew hagar was sitting before her fire, noll stirred in his arms. trafford stopped, fearing that his excited imagination had deceived him. "noll," he cried, "speak to me,--speak!" "yes--only--i'm--i'm so cold," chattered noll, faintly; "and--uncle richard--you--you've saved me!" trafford could not speak, so great was the load which had suddenly lifted from his heart. he started on with his burden, though noll protested against being carried, and at every step rejoiced within himself. what cared he for the thunder of the sea, the wind's screaming, and the terror of death which they boded? _his_ treasure was safe, safe!--torn from the very yawning mouth of the deep, and what were wreck and disaster of others to him? he came to the little kitchen, presently, the light from its one window toward the shore beaming cheerily upon him, and threw open the door and entered so suddenly that hagar screamed out with affright. "de good lord help us now!" she cried at the sight of the master and his burden. "what's happened, mas'r dick?" noll answered, assuringly, "nothing very serious, hagar. i've been in--the sea. oh, uncle richard! how did you find me?" trafford set his burden down upon the three-legged stool which hagar had just vacated, saying,-- "i was looking for you, noll, and heard your cry. o heaven! what if i had failed to hear it!" "i should have been swept away," said noll. here hagar recovered her wits sufficiently to give a little howl of lamentation. "out ob de sea! out ob de sea!" she cried; "de lord be t'anked fur it! dat yer sea am a drefful t'ing, honey,--allers swallerin', swallerin', an' nebber ken get 'nough fur itself, nohow. hagar's seen it; she knows what dat yer sea is, an' t'ank de lord, he's let ye come out of it alive. mas'r dick, why don't ye t'ank him fur savin' ob yer boy fur ye?" "hush!" said trafford, his face growing gloomy; "find noll some dry clothes, hagar. quick, woman!" "yes, in a minnit, mas'r dick; quick's i ken git dis yer ole candle lit. but ef ye don't t'ank de lord now, ye'll have to come to it 'fore long, mas'r dick; hagar tells ye so! dat yer time'll come! it'll come!" "hush!" said trafford, harshly, "and do as i bade you." hagar went out, sighing, "dat time'll come, dat time'll come, bress de lord!" noll looked up from his seat by the fire, where he sat dripping and shivering, and said,-- "but aren't you glad i'm safe, uncle richard?--aren't you thankful?" trafford answered this question with a look which made his nephew exclaim,-- "i know you are, uncle richard! then why--why--aren't you thankful to god?" "don't, don't, noll!" said his uncle. "strip off those wet garments and make haste to get warm again. culm rock is no place for one to be sick in. hurry, boy?" instead of hurrying, however, noll suddenly grew very grave and exclaimed,-- "oh, i've forgotten something, uncle richard! that tide drove it all out of my head. what can i do? dirk sharp's little girl is sick--dying, and i was to bring her some medicine, if hagar had any!" "what is dirk or his to you?" exclaimed trafford. "was that what kept you so late? is that how you came to be caught by the tide?" "yes," said noll, "i--" his uncle interrupted him with a stern, "noll, you reckless lad! what are those culm people to us,--to me? you put your life in peril--oh, i tremble to think _what_ peril!--for dirk's miserable child? what were you thinking of? have you no regard for your life,--for my happiness?" "why," said noll, quickly, "dirk loves his child as well as you love me, and i thought perhaps hagar's medicines could help it, and i didn't know there was any peril till i got into it; and oh, uncle richard, what will they do now that i can't come back?" "i don't know," said trafford, gloomily; "they are accustomed to such things, i suppose. shall i have to command you to take off those wet clothes?" noll began to remove his ice-cold garments, but presently said,-- "is there,--do you think there'll be any hope of my going back to-night, uncle richard? the child is dreadful sick, you know." "going back!--to-night! are you crazy, noll?" trafford cried. "no, you will not put foot outside the door this night!" "but, un--" "hush! not another word," said his uncle, sternly. "if you have no regard for your life, i must have for you. hagar is waiting at the door with your dry clothes. are you ready for them?" noll answered "yes," his heart suddenly filled with a dreary recollection of the sight which he had seen in dirk's miserable abode. it seemed to him as if he could hear the sick child's wail above the war of the storm. dirk, he thought, would watch and wait for his return, peering through the dirty little window into the gathering gloom and darkness, and, finding that he did not come, would settle back into despair again. noll put on the dry garments with a heavy heart. he was sure he felt strong enough to return to culm, and although the sea barred the beach path, yet, with a lantern, he could find a way over the rocks, he thought. but uncle richard had utterly refused; so there was no hope, and the child must suffer on, and dirk watch in vain. "oh," thought noll, "why wasn't i more careful? why _didn't_ i think of the tide? then nothing would have happened, and i could have gone back!" hagar came in, saying, "ye'll hab yer supper here, in de kitchen, mas'r noll, 'cause it's warmer fur ye dan in de dinin'-room. ye won't mind hagar's ole kitchen jes' fur once, honey?" "no," said noll, sadly, "i won't mind at all, hagar, and i'm not hungry--much." trafford went out to change his own wet clothing. the old housekeeper bustled between her cupboards and a little round table which she had drawn before the fire, casting wistful looks at noll as he sat gravely gazing in the coals. "bress de lord! bress de lord fur savin' ye!" she ejaculated, fervently, as she bent down over her tea-pot which was spouting odorous jets of steam from its place on the hearth; "'pears like dar wouldn't be nuffin left in dis ole house ef de sea had swallered ye, mas'r noll. don't _ye_ t'ank de lord?" she asked, peering up into the boy's sober face. "yes; i'm glad to live, and i thank god for saving me; but oh, hagar," said noll, almost with tears in his eyes, "there's somebody on this rock to-night that's as sad as you or uncle richard would have been if the tide had swept me away!" "now!" said hagar; "an' who is dem yer?" "dirk sharp's little girl is sick with a fever, and i think she's going to die,--though of course i can't tell,--and they haven't a drop of medicine. just think, hagar,--dying, and nothing to save!" hagar thought, and sighed heavily over her tea-pot. "don' know what's goin' to 'come o' them yer culm folks!" she said. "and," continued noll, "i promised to bring dirk some medicine,--i was going to get it of you; but i got into that fearful tide and was half drowned, and now--oh, what can i do?" "bress ye, honey, ye didn't 'spect to go back in de dark to culm?" cried hagar. "i would--if uncle richard hadn't forbidden," said noll; "do you think you have any medicines that can help the child, hagar?" "don' know," shaking her turbaned head. "ef 'twas rheumatiz, or ef 'twas a cut, or ef 'twas one o' dem yer colds, hagar'd 'spect to know; but can't tell nuffin 'bout fevers, nohow. 'tw'u'd be jes' as de lord's willin'!" "will you go, or send something in the morning?" queried noll. "ef it's pleasant, honey, hagar'll go wid ye. yer supper's waiting fur ye!" noll sighed, and did not stir. the misery which he had seen in dirk's wretched hut haunted him. hagar poured out the boy's cup of tea, waited a little space, then returned it to its steaming pot again. "come, yer supper's cold 'nough, now, honey," said she, coming up to noll's seat. "what ye waitin' fur? oh, chile, ye grows more'n' more like yer poor father. t'inkin' ob de mis'ry ober dar; ain't ye?" "_such_ misery, too!" said noll. "well, dar's mis'ry eberywhere!" said hagar; "can't go nowhere but what ye'll find it. yer uncle dick has had mis'ry 'nough in his day, but 'tain't done him no good 'tall. jes' froze his heart up harder'n a stone." "it isn't all stone," said noll. "don' ye t'ink so? well, 'pears like ye's sent here by de lord, jes' to break dat heart ob his all to pieces!" said hagar, earnestly. "sent here to break uncle richard's heart?" laughed noll. "well, i wonder if he thinks i came here for that purpose?" "don' know," said the old housekeeper, with a shake of her head; "but dat's what i t'ink de lord sent ye here fur. dat heart ob his is all frizzed up. 'spects 'twon't be so allus, chile,--de lord helpin'." noll ate his supper, bade hagar good-night, admonishing her to "be sure and have the medicines ready the first thing!" and groped his way to the library, where his uncle was sitting at his organ. trafford stopped playing the instant the door opened, and as noll drew near, put his arm about him, saying,-- "my boy!--_mine!_--doubly my own since i snatched you from death! oh, noll! if i had lost you!" the boy sighed. "dirk has got to lose _his_ child," he said, "and oh, uncle richard, i should be a great deal happier if i might only try to save it!" chapter xi. dirk's treasure. at the first gray glimmer of the wintry dawn, noll was awake. he felt stiff and lame after his adventure of the previous evening, and not at all inclined to stir. but a sudden recollection of dirk and his child, and the aid which he had promised them, came to him almost as soon as he was conscious of the day's dawning, and he got up and limped to the window to see whether there was any prospect of hagar's journey to culm being realized. the sky was as gray and sombre as yesterday's had been. all the sea was in a great turmoil, and rolled in a flood of foam upon the shore as far as he could see. not a sail in sight upon the lonely waste, not a sign of human life anywhere. now and then a snow-flake fluttered down; and the wind screamed shrilly about the house-corners, and wailed hoarsely in the casements. "hagar can't go to-day," thought noll, with a sinking heart; "and, oh! what _can_ be done?" he trembled for fear uncle richard would forbid him to go to culm again. he felt as if he could never bear to meet dirk's eyes after promising him aid and failing to bring it; and, with this thought oppressing him, and the lonely cry of the sea filling his ears, he dressed himself, and went down to the library with a downcast heart. his uncle sat by a window, looking, with a sad and gloomy face, upon the sea; and, as his nephew entered, acknowledged his "good-morning, uncle richard," with only a cold nod. but noll, resolved to have the matter settled at once, came up to his chair, saying,-- "i've got a great favor to ask of you, uncle richard. may i go around to culm after breakfast?" trafford's face grew gloomier than before. "for what?" he asked. "to carry something for dirk's child," noll answered, meeting his uncle's stern eyes with his own pleading blue ones. "pshaw!" exclaimed trafford, impatiently, "what are these miserable fish-folks to you? i don't want you to care for them!" "but, uncle richard--" "well?" "dirk's child is sick,--dying, i'm afraid!" "so are hundreds in this world. there's misery everywhere." "perhaps i might aid this misery, uncle richard, if you'll let me try. will you?" "you will have more than your hands full if you are going to look after these culm people," said trafford, coldly; "you had better not begin." noll's face grew graver and graver, and he made no reply to his uncle's last remark. "well," said trafford, after a long silence, "do you wish anything more, noll?" the boy turned away, as if hurt by his uncle's coldness, and walked quickly to the library door. there he wavered--stopped--then turned about, and came back. "uncle richard," said he, tremulously, "papa said i was to do all the good i could in the world, and never pass by any trouble that i might help, and--and i think he would tell me to go to dirk's, if he were here." trafford turned about with an impatient word upon his lips, but it was not spoken. it seemed to him as if his dead brother stood before him,--as he had known him when they were boys together,--and that those words were meant for a reproach. he put out his hand and touched noll's shoulder, as if to make sure that it was really his nephew and no vision. "ah!" said he, with a sigh, "your father looks out at me from your eyes, noll. turn them away from me. go to culm, if you like,--you have my permission." "breakfas's waitin' fur ye!" said hagar, at the door. "but, uncle richard," said noll, in some perplexity, "i don't like to go and have you all the time wishing me at home." "i cannot help that," said trafford, as he rose to answer hagar's call. "i have given you permission,--go." the breakfast was a silent one. after it was over, and the door had closed upon the grim master of the house as he went back to his books, hagar said,-- "don't ye let nuffin make ye downhearted, honey! de lord'll help ye, ef yer uncle dick won't. 'tain't de might nor de money dat'll do eberyting, chile. all 'pends on whether de lord's on yer side. jes' come in my ole kitchen and see what i's put up fur ye to carry to dem yer mis'able folks." [illustration: "dis yer is brof." page .] noll got his overcoat and cap, and followed the old housekeeper into her cozy and comfortable dominion. "look at dis yer," said hagar, taking a basket off the table; "jes' as chock full as nuffin ye ken think ob. dis yer is brof,--chicken-brof,--an' dat yer bundle is crackers. dis bottle's de med'cine, an' de chile is to hab a teaspoonful ebery half an hour. ef i could be there, de chile should hab a sweat, sure; but dis med'cine'll hev to answer! dis yer is a teaspoon an' a teacup, 'cause ye won't find nuffin fit fur to drink nuffin out ob. hagar knows how dem yer culm folks lib! now, ken ye 'member all dat, honey?" "yes," said noll, "and i thank you a hundred times, hagar. i'd better start at once, without waiting another minute." the old housekeeper followed him to the door, cautioning, "keep 'way from dat yer sea, chile! don't yer git into dat yer drefful tide, honey! an' de lord bress ye an' bring ye safe back!" the wind was keen and bitter, and the sea thundered as mightily as on the previous evening. noll hurried along over the great patches of icy sea-weed and frozen pools of water in the rocks and hollows, and thought, now that he was making such haste, that the way had never seemed quite so long before. he paused for a moment to look upon the scene of last night's peril, and remember, with a shudder, how the waves battered, and how they pierced and numbed him with their cold. then he ran along the hard, sandy beach as fast as the wind and his burden would let him. the culm huts came in sight at last, cheerless and desolate, and with no sign of life or occupancy about them, save the faint smoke which the wind whirled down from the chimneys. noll began to regard dirk's habitation with anxious eyes long before he drew near. he half expected to see the fisherman's tall figure pacing up and down the sand, beating his breast and groaning with despair, perhaps; but instead, the sands were deserted. noll came opposite the miserable dwelling, and paused a few seconds before rapping, waiting to hear the sick child's low wail. he heard only a confused, unintelligible murmur of voices. a woman answered his summons,--not the child's mother, but a neighbor, evidently,--and stood staring blankly at him. "can i see dirk,--dirk sharp?" noll asked. at the sound of the boy's voice, the fisherman himself came to the door. his face was haggard, and looked wan and worn, for all the bronze of wind and weather that was upon it. "lord bless ye, lad!" he cried to noll, "but ye be too late." "too late?" "yes," brokenly, "my little gal died las' night." noll was silent with surprise. he was too late,--too late. "oh, dirk," he said, as soon as he could speak, "i would have come back last night, but i got into the sea, and--and it was impossible. so i brought what i could this morning." dirk looked at the lad and his basket, and choked. at last he said, gratefully, "it be good in ye to care for the like o' us, lad. we be poor folks fur ye to look at, the lord knows! what did ye bring fur my little gal?" noll lifted the cover of his basket, and dirk peered in, exclaiming, "my little gal never seed the like o' them, lad! she wur a tender thing, my little gal wur, and mabby ef she'd had a bit o' somethin' better'n the salt fish--well, she be beyond meat and drink now," he said, choking again. noll knew not whether to turn back, or to stay. dirk, however, presently said, "come, lad, step in an' see my little gal. she wur as white an' sof'-cheeked as yerself. o lord! i might ha' knowed she'd never come up stout an' growin' like the rest," he groaned as he turned back to lead the way for noll. in the room where the little one had lain sat three or four old fish-wives,--wrinkled, weather-beaten old faces they had,--who were nodding and whispering over their pipes in a solemn kind of way, occasionally addressing a word to the mother, who sat enveloped in the smoke which poured into the room from the ill-constructed fireplace. they regarded noll with many curious glances as he passed through after dirk to the apartment where the child was laid, and one old creature followed after them, apparently to ascertain the boy's errand. it was a bare room where dirk's treasure was sleeping,--not a thing in it save the two wooden stools and rough board which upheld their still little burden. pure and white the child lay,--a fair, delicate flower when compared with the dinginess and squalor of everything about it; and something of this contrast seemed to glimmer upon dirk's rough perceptions, for he said to noll,-- "ye wouldn't think she could be mine, lad! ye don't wonder the little gal couldn't come up like the rest o' the young uns?" "it wur a fair gal, lord knows," said the old fish-wife who had followed them in; "it warn't black and freckly, never. sich kinds don't love this salt water, dirk sharp,--ye couldn't ha' raised her, man!" "oh, my little gal!" murmured dirk, smoothing a fleck of golden hair with his great brawny hand. "ye be fair an' white," said the old fish-wife, touching noll's cheek with her skinny finger, "an' what be ye here on the rock fur?" "sh!--ye let the lad alone, mother," said dirk; "he be come here to bring my little gal somethin', an' she be beyond eatin' an' drinkin'. he be a good lad to do it!" noll looked upon the little sleeper's face, and then at the wretched surroundings, and was glad for the child's sake that sleep and peace had come at last. yet his heart was heavy as he looked upon his basket and its now useless contents, and he thought, "oh, if i had only been more careful last night!--perhaps--perhaps hagar's medicines could have helped it." he turned to dirk, saying, quietly,-- "i must go now. i'm--i'm _so_ sorry i was too late!" the fisherman followed noll out on to the sand, and, as the boy was about to turn away homeward, took both his hands in one of his own great brown ones, saying,-- "ye be kinder to me 'an i ken tell ye, lad. i thought yer kind had no heart fur us folk. bless ye, lad, bless ye!" noll's homeward walk seemed somewhat brighter to him, even though he left the child dead behind him. dirk's gratitude, a small matter though it may have been, gave him a thrill of pleasure. it was pleasant to think that he had one friend among the fish-folk, rough and ignorant though they were. he remembered how, in the little sea-town in which his father had once dwelt, the fishermen came at last to love and respect the kind minister who worked so patiently to raise them out of their slough of ignorance and degradation, and that whenever his father walked among them, they flocked about him to listen to his words and counsel, and watch for his look or smile of approval. "and," thought noll, "if uncle richard would only do as papa did, what a happy man he would be, and what good he could do for culm!" but that time--if ever it came--was yet a long, long way off, he thought, and so the people must live on their old, dreary, wretched life till some one taught them better. the boy walked soberly home, with a great many serious, earnest thoughts in his heart. somehow, this morning's sight had made another impression upon his mind beside that of sadness and disappointment. he felt and saw that there was a great work to do. who was to do it? hagar met him at the door, rejoicing that he had returned in safety, but, stopping only to tell her that the child was dead, noll went on to the library. it was the boy's intention to open his heart to his uncle, and tell him of all the want and wretchedness there was at culm, while the impression was so deep and vivid in his mind; but trafford sat at the organ and took no notice of his nephew's presence, and, after a long lingering, noll gave up the attempt for that day, at least. it was late in the afternoon when he went out for his accustomed walk. partly by accident, partly by design, he came to the little place of graves in the frozen sand, and there found the funeral party from the fish-huts just gathering about the shallow resting-place which had been scooped for dirk's treasure. the huddling crowd of poorly-clad men and women respectfully made way for him, and dirk looked unutterable thanks for what he considered a great honor. without a prayer, without a word of consolation, the little one was lowered into the earth amid the wailing of the women, and the shrill and lonely screaming of the fierce and bitter wind. noll had never seen anything so unutterably dreary, and when all was over, and the mourners had disappeared over the other side of the rock, he went home, thinking more deeply than ever of the work to be done, and wondering who was to do it. chapter xii. firelight talk. the warmth and quietness of the library made such a bright and pleasant contrast to the dreary scene in the culm burying-ground that noll gave a great sigh of pleasure and relief as he entered the room and found it light and cheerful with the blaze of a brisk fire on the hearth. he sat down in one of the big arm-chairs which stood either side of the fireplace, and held his numbed hands in the warmth, and looked about him, thinking that the old stone house was a palace in comparison with the other culm habitations. uncle richard sat in his usual seat by the window, with his face toward the darkening sea, and, with the dismal scene which he had just witnessed fresh in his mind, noll felt a tenderer yearning toward the stern man,--feeling, somehow, as if they could not be too near and dear to each other on this lonely rock, where, just now, it seemed as if there was little else than wretchedness. perhaps it was this feeling which led the boy to leave his seat and stand by his uncle's chair, and, with one hand on the grim man's shoulder, to say, "dirk's child is dead, uncle richard, and they've just buried it. oh! what a lonely place to be buried in! i would rather lie in the sea, it seems to me." trafford turned suddenly about at these words, exclaiming, "hush, hush! don't talk about death, boy! what have you been up to that dreary little heap of graves for?" "partly to please dirk,--partly because i wished, uncle richard. it's a dismal place! i'm glad enough to get back." "we shall both sleep there soon enough," said trafford, who seemed to be in one of his gloomiest moods. "why go there till we go for the last time?" noll's arm went about his uncle's neck. "don't say such things!" he said. "perhaps we'll not live here always, uncle richard; and, if we do have to be buried up there in the sand, heaven is just as near, after all." trafford looked at the boy's face, ruddy and glowing from the long walk in the wind, and sighed,-- "yes, for you, noll. but for me,--no, no!" "why, uncle richard?" "because--it is all dark,--dark! i have nothing, see nothing to hope for beyond." "why won't you try to hope?" said noll, softly. "hush! it's no use. your aunt marguerite bade me follow after her long ago. i did not try. your father said almost the same, noll. yet here i am,--i have not tried, i see no light, there is no hope for me." the crackle of the fire and the hoarse voice of the sea had the silence all to themselves for a long time. at last noll said,-- "when papa died, he did not fear at all, uncle richard. he said it was only the end of his journey, and that i was to follow on in the same way till i got to him at last. and papa said the truth, uncle richard." "yes! he never said aught else, noll,--never!" "and," continued the boy, his face growing grave, "papa said i was never to forget god, and never to forget to help any of his creatures if they were in trouble, and, oh! uncle richard, i hope i never shall!" "ah!" said trafford, thoughtfully, "your father ever had others' welfare at heart. i remember, when we were lads, how, one day, in coming from the woods with nuts and grapes, we passed a poor creature by the roadside, who seemed fainting with fatigue or hunger. we both laughed at the queer figure at first, and passed by merrily, and went on our way; but noll's face grew graver and graver, i remember, and by and by he would turn about, in spite of me, and go all the long way back to empty his pockets of their pennies and bits of silver into the wanderer's lap. yes, he had a heart for every unfortunate, and it was not closed against them as he grew older." again the room was silent, while the fire flickered and painted flame-shadows on the wall, and lit up the dusky corners with its red glow. noll sat on the arm of his uncle's chair, and watched the quivering shapes, and, in fancy, went back over the sea to hastings. it was something such a night as this, he remembered, that papa had bidden him farewell,--lying so calm and patient in the great south chamber, where people were stepping softly about, and speaking in whispers and sighs. and papa's dear arms had been around him till the last, noll thought, with his eyes brimming, and seeming yet to feel their gentle pressure; and, as long as it could whisper, the dear voice had breathed love and solemn counsel and fervent prayer into his ears. back to the boy came the vivid recollection of all the hushed voice had said,--all the injunctions, the earnest entreaties to follow in the path which led only heavenward, and his heart was so full that he longed to cry out, "papa, papa! if i might only see your face in this dreary place!" trafford presently said, speaking his thoughts aloud, "it was an evil day that separated us. god only knows what i might have been, had i always lived in the sunshine of his pure, warm heart. why are you so silent, noll?" the boy could not trust himself to speak, and trafford suddenly saw that there were tears shining in his eyes. noll felt his uncle's hand laid upon his head, and the stern voice said, with all the tenderness of which it was capable,-- "it's a hard life for you, noll. i can see,--i know it." "no, no!" said the boy, quickly, "it's not that, uncle richard! i was only thinking of--of papa,--that was all." "what about him?" queried trafford; "i never knew that you mourned before." "why," said noll, chokingly, "papa told me so much,--so much that he wished me to do and be,--and it all came to me just then, as if he were saying it over again." "what did he wish you to do and be?" trafford quietly asked. "he said that--that i should find christ's work to do wherever i might be, and that i must do his work and follow him wherever i should go; and--and i'm a long way from that, uncle richard; though," noll added, turning his face away from the shining firelight, "i do try to do it, and not forget him nor his work." again trafford's hand was laid upon the boy's head, this time to stroke his curly locks away from his eyes, where the wind had blown them. "did he tell you aught of me?" he asked, presently. "no,--only that if you ever found me, or i you, that i was to be your boy. papa said you would care for me." "he believed in me still! he trusted me!" said trafford. "alas! he knew not what a father i should make his child." noll slipped off the chair arm, saying, "don't say that again, uncle richard. papa trusted you,--so do i. and, if you please, will you go out to supper? hagar called a long time ago. come, uncle richard, don't look so gloomy! papa smiled even when--when he was saying good-by to me." the instant these words escaped noll's lips he half regretted them. he had never before allowed his uncle to know that he thought him sad and gloomy, and he was not quite sure that the careless word would strike agreeably upon his ears. but trafford only said,-- "yes, noll, i know. we will go out to supper," and rose from the chair and followed after his nephew. the boy did his best to make the meal a cheery one, thinking to himself that this, as much as anything, was a part of the work which papa wished him to do; and, observing his efforts, trafford endeavored to keep pace with his nephew's cheerful talk. noll did not go back to the library after tea was over, but followed hagar out to her kitchen as she went thither with her tray of dishes, and sat down in the cozy corner by the fireplace. somehow, the boy thought, the old housekeeper's humble kitchen seemed to gather more brightness and cheerfulness into its rough and smoke-tarnished precincts than the great library, with all its comforts and elegancies, ever held. the reason for this he did not seek; he only knew that it was so, and liked the wooden seat in the chimney-corner accordingly. hagar came out with her last tray-load from the dining-room, and set it down upon the table with,-- "bress ye, honey, hagar's glad 'nough to see ye sittin' dar. 'pears like i never heard de sea shoutin' like it is dis yer ebenin'. seems as ef all de folks dat de cruel ole monster hab swallered wur jes' openin' the'r moufs and cryin' 'loud! hagar t'anks de lord dat yer ain't in de bottom ob it, honey." the old housekeeper took two or three side glances at the boy's sober face as she poured the hot water over her dishes, and said at last, "now don' ye s'pose hagar knows what ye're t'inkin' ob so hard, chile? ki! she c'u'd tell ye quicker'n nuffin. you's t'inkin' ob dem mis'able culm folks, you is." "you are partly right," said noll. "it seems to me as if i couldn't think of anything else. i try to sometimes, but the sight of their wretched ways keeps coming to me, and it's no use to try and put it away. oh, dear, i wish something could be done for them!" "dat's yer bressed father all ober!" said hagar. "'spects ef he was 'live an' livin' on dis yer wild'ness, we'd see somethin' did fur 'em. but mas'r dick--well, his heart is all frizzed up, jes' as i telled ye afore. but de lord'll open it sometime, honey,--hagar's got faith 'nough to b'lieve dat!" "oh! i hope so," said noll; "but what are the people going to do till then?" "can't tell ye nuffin 'bout dat," said hagar, making a vigorous clatter among her dishes; "'spects the day's comin', tho', when de lord gets ready fur't. 'tain't till _he_ says, honey." noll gravely replenished the fire from the great basket of cones and chips which stood on the hearth, and stood listening, for a little time, to their brisk snap and crackle, then turned to hagar, saying,-- "do you think i could do anything for them, hagar? i've been thinking this long time about it, and there's no one to ask but you, for i can't quite get courage enough to say anything to uncle richard about it,--he would be angry, i'm afraid. do you think i could do anything, hagar?" the old housekeeper let go her dishcloth, and turned about to look at noll, as he stood before the fire. her eyes surveyed the lad from head to foot,--as if it was the first time she had seen him,--and after a few minutes of silence she slowly said, "what put dat in yer head, chile?" "i don't know; it's been there this great while. it was the misery over there, i suppose," said noll. "well, well," said she, turning back to her dishes, "hagar's 'stonished, she is! does i 'spect ye ken do anything fur dem yer? bress de lord! he'll help ye, honey!--he'll help ye! an' ef it wa'n't de lord dat put it in yer head--well, chile," hagar added, "de lord's eberywhere, an' 'pears to me like as ef it was his doin'. what ye t'ink, honey?" noll was looking in the rosy bed of coals, and for a few minutes made no reply; then he said, in answer to hagar's question,-- "i'd like to think that, hagar. i'd like to have all my thoughts and plans come from him, and i'd like to do the lord's work; for that's what i promised,--that's what i am trying to do." hagar wiped a pile of plates, and laying down her towel, said, reverently,-- "promise, chile? did ye promise de lord, or who?" after she had asked this question, she looked furtively over her shoulder at noll, as if fearing she had asked about something which she had no right to know. but noll, with hands clasped over knee, was looking straight into the firelight, and did not appear offended; and pretty soon he said, slowly and softly, hagar stopping her clatter to listen,-- "before mamma died--did you know mamma, hagar?" "not muchly, chile," said hagar; "yer uncle dick's wife was my lady." "well, before mamma died," continued noll, "we used to take long walks upon the shore by the town. a great shining shore it was, i remember, and yellow like gold sometimes when the sun shone upon it." "like de shore ob de new jerusalem," interposed hagar, gazing abstractedly in her dish-pan. "and there were great cedars and pines drooping down from the rocks," continued noll, "and here mamma and i used to walk up and down when papa was busy in his study; and almost always he used to come out to walk a little with us before we were through. and one day we waited a long time for him to come out, and at last sat down on a rock, for mamma was not well then, and could not walk long without a rest; and as she looked across the smooth water, she said, 'and the building of the wall of it was of jasper: and the city was pure gold, like unto clear glass.' though i was a good deal smaller than i am now, i knew what she meant, and of what she was thinking, for mamma used to talk about leaving me then; and i laid my head in her lap and cried a little, and said,-- "'oh, don't talk of that, mamma, for what am i going to do?'" noll choked a little here at the remembrance, and hagar drew a long breath. "then," continued noll, with a quivering voice, "she bent her face over me and the tears in her eyes ran over on to my cheeks, and she said,-- "'oh, my little noll, if mamma could feel sure that you were ready to come after her into that city, she would never cry or mourn again!' "it seemed as if my heart would break to see her cry and to know that i was _not_ ready, and that i could not stop her tears. i wanted to scream and groan, my heart swelled so." "ob course ye did," said hagar, with ready sympathy. noll was silent for a long minute. somehow, the talk with uncle richard in the library had brought back the remembrance of all these past events so brightly and vividly that it was like living them over again. but he had not yet got to the "promise," and hagar was waiting patiently. so he continued, with a slight effort, saying,-- "mamma dried her tears very suddenly, for papa came in sight just then, and i suppose she feared he would be worried or anxious about her, and though she said nothing more to me about the city to which she was going, i couldn't forget her tears, nor that she was sorrowful and unhappy on my account. it made me miserable. i didn't want to walk with her the next day, for fear i should see her tears again; and i knew i could not bear _that_. so when it came time to go, i hid away, and she went alone." "poor honey!" said hagar, reflectively. "but that only made it all worse. i knew that i was all wrong, and that i ought to try and find jesus, through whom, mamma said, she could only enter into the city. but it seemed as if he had hidden away from me; and the way was all dark and i was afraid and wretched and miserable." "oh, chile," said hagar, "de bressed lord was waitin' an' ready to take ye up in his arms de berry minnit ye frowed yerself on his mercy!" "yes," said noll, "but i was not ready. i held back, and was wicked and wretched; but it couldn't last alway, and one night when i had said my prayer and been tucked in bed by mamma's poor weak, patient hands, i could delay no longer, and throwing my arms about her neck when she bent down to kiss me, i cried and sobbed, and begged her to help me find jesus, who reigned over the city, and mamma cried too,--tears of joy they were, she said,--and told me that i had not to seek for him as for a great stranger, but that he stood ready to enter in and dwell in my heart the moment i yielded it up to him." "dat was de bressed troof!" said hagar, with shining eyes; "an' what did ye do den, honey?" "mamma called papa to come, and he prayed that jesus would forgive me and make my heart his own, and help me to always walk in the path that ends at last at the gate of his city. and," noll added, turning partly about to hagar, "i did give up, and--and i think he forgave me. the dreary load went off my heart, and i promised jesus then to never forget him nor his work. when mamma did at last go to the city, i promised her the same; when papa went, i promised him too. that is my promise," said noll, a little tremulously. "do you think i can forget it, hagar? do you think i can help wanting to do what is his work?" hagar wiped her eyes. "'spects dere's no need ob answerin' dat question," said she, quietly; "when de lord's wid ye, dar ain't nobody gwine to 'vent yer workin' good, nohow." "but i don't know how to begin," said noll, "even if i could do anything. there's so much to be done, and i've nothing to do with. and i'm afraid that uncle richard will forbid me to do anything about it. he doesn't want me to go to culm, he says, and he dislikes the culm people." hagar did not know what consolation to offer for this unfavorable prospect. she could not counsel the boy to disobey his uncle's commands, neither did she accept the idea of having noll's projects defeated for lack of permission to carry them out. "don' know, honey," said she, after a long meditation; "can't tell ye nuffin 'bout dat, nohow. but jes' go right on wid yer plans, an' de lord'll find a way fur ye. he ken do it,--he ken do it, chile." but the question was not settled in noll's mind. it was not a thing to be undertaken without much deliberation, and, as yet, only the vaguest of schemes floated through his mind. he wished to aid, he longed to be doing something of the work that was to be done, but there did not seem to be the smallest prospect of a commencement. christmas came and went. the eve was not an unpleasant one to noll, though he remembered all too well what a blithe evening the last christmas-eve had been, and could not help thinking yearningly of the dear friends gathered merrily together across the sea, and wonder whether he was missed from the throng, as he sat by the fire all the solitary evening. chapter xiii. the winter's waning. dirk's little one was not the only fever-stricken sleeper that was laid to rest in the dreary little burying-ground that winter. the fever, born of want and filth and exposure, lingered among the wretched huts, taking down the strong men and wasting the lives of the little ones, till, after weary lingering, they flickered out. of course the sick ones had but the poorest of care and the rudest of medical aid. the people were disheartened and apathetic, and seemed to have no idea of cleansing their habitations or reforming their way of living. noll once ventured to hint to dirk, with whom he was more intimately acquainted than the others, that cleanliness and care might do much toward ridding them of the haunting fever. the fisherman stared blankly at this suggestion, and replied,-- "it mought do fur the like o' ye, lad; but we be poor folks, an' i don't think 'tw'u'd do the good ye think. the fever be come, an' it be goin' to stay till we be all lyin' up in the sand yender." so the sickness lingered, meeting no resistance and no attempts to check its progress. it smote heaviest the little ones just toddling about, and who had not enough of strength and endurance in their little bodies to resist the slowly-destroying fever. so dirk's treasure did not sleep alone in the sand, for many another father's was there to keep it company. oh! the weariness of the days, the slow dragging of the weeks! when the sickness seemed to have spent itself, and hope was beginning to flicker up, back came the destroyer and fell upon some little one whom father and mother had fondly hoped to save,--for these culm people, dull and ignorant though they were, had a strong and passionate love for their children that showed itself most vividly in these days of death,--and then the people settled into their old apathetic despair and found no light nor comfort for their souls. was it any wonder that--with all this misery and death about him, and the sight of it distressing him--noll should grow sick at heart? the gloom of the old stone house and the desolateness of his new home, when compared with the one which he had left, had, at first, been all that his fresh young spirits could bear; and, having grown to like his new abode in a measure, he found, even then, that it would not do to remember hastings and his friends too often; and now, in these dreary days, the boy began to grow less cheerful and to feel an unconquerable desire to go back to those who loved him and whose homes knew nothing of dreariness or gloom. this longing for friends he kept bravely to himself, because he thought it was a part of his work--the work which it seemed to him was god's--to be as brave and cheerful as possible before uncle richard, and win him out of his gloom and moroseness. so this yearning and desire for brighter scenes and faces was kept a secret, and trafford suspected nothing of it. his keen eyes, however, detected that noll was graver and less talkative than usual, and he began to look about for a reason. some dim knowledge of the sickness and death in the village had crept in to him through noll's and hagar's talk, and a sudden fear chilled him lest his nephew, too, was to be stricken down with the lingering fever. what if it should be so? what if even now the boy was oppressed with the languor and depression which precedes illness? with this thought torturing him, he called to noll one afternoon from the library window, as the boy was idly walking up and down the frozen sand. after a few minutes of waiting, noll made his appearance at the library door, looking a little surprised, perhaps, at this unusual summons. trafford bade him come up to his chair, and noll obeyed. "where were you all the forenoon?" questioned the uncle. "i saw you but once after breakfast." noll looked as if he had much rather refrain from answering, but said, after a few seconds of hesitation, "over at culm, uncle richard." "at culm!" exclaimed trafford, sternly. "isn't the fever raging there?" "yes, sir." "and you have been exposing yourself? speak, noll!" "why--yes--i suppose so, uncle richard. i was in the room where hark darby's little boy was sick." trafford stamped upon the floor with impatience. "what were you there for?" he cried. "to carry something that hagar made for it to drink. there's no doctor, you know; and they're terribly poor, uncle richard. oh! if you could only--" "stop! i wish to hear naught of those fish-folks," cried trafford. "oh! you careless lad, what can i do with you? are you determined to catch the fever? are you bound to be always in danger?" "no; but it's terrible over there, and--and they're dying with the sickness, and nothing to make them comfortable! oh! how can i help it, uncle richard?" trafford looked into the lad's earnest eyes and sighed. "would you like to take the fever and be buried with the rest up there in the sand?" he asked. noll shivered a little, and answered, "no, i don't want to die, uncle richard. but i think i ought to help them all i can, over there, for all that. and it's such a little--such a _very_ little--that i can do! oh! uncle richard, don't you think it is terrible to see them so wretched, and no one to help them?" "i don't see them!" said trafford; "i should know nothing of it but for you, and i don't want you to see them or know aught of the misery or the sickness. do you understand?" noll looked at his uncle as if he failed to comprehend. "you don't mean that i'm not to go there any more?" he said. "yes, since you are not disposed to incline to my wishes, i must command you. you are not to go near--" this time it was noll who interrupted. before trafford could finish his command, the boy had taken two or three quick steps forward and clasped his arms so quickly and convulsively about the stern man's neck that he was startled into silence. "don't, don't say that, uncle richard!" cried noll; "i couldn't mind you if you did! it wouldn't be right,--when they're all sick and almost starving,--and i couldn't do it, and it is not as papa told me to do! and--" trafford endeavored to release noll's hold, but the boy only clung the tighter, exclaiming,-- "no, no! don't say it, uncle richard, for i couldn't mind you! papa never would wish me to! and oh, why don't _you_ help those poor, dying people? why don't you help them, uncle richard? why don't you,--why _don't_ you?" surprised at this unusual vehemence on the part of his nephew, trafford was silent, hardly knowing whether to be angry or indifferent. that this matter lay very near the boy's heart, he had no longer any doubt. what could he do with him? "noll," said he after a long silence, "do you mean that you will not obey me?" the boy hesitated. "in everything else, uncle richard," he answered, with red cheeks and downcast eyes; "but this--but this--oh, how can you ask me to stop? there isn't any one else to do anything, and it helps a little, and they look for me to come every day; and if i did not--oh, uncle richard, it would be too cruel! i can't do it! do _you_ think papa would be pleased?" "but you are mine, now, not his," said trafford; with something like displeasure in his tone; "aren't you aware of it?" noll said not a word, but stood with his eyes turned away from his uncle's, and his cheeks crimsoning, while his breath came quick and fast. "will you obey me or not?" trafford asked, sternly. noll turned around and met his uncle's eye. he began to plead. his awe of his uncle seemed to have vanished for the time, and trafford was astonished at the boy's earnestness and vehemence. two or three times he was about to put up his hand to command silence, but noll redoubled his pleading, and he continued to listen. all the remembrances of the past dreary weeks--the want, the slow wasting, the flickering out of life, the dismal laying away of the poor body in the sand--came to noll as vividly as the reality which he had witnessed, and made him pray for relief with an earnestness and entreaty which ordinarily were not his. "just think, uncle richard," said he, in conclusion, "papa would have gone to their aid long ago. he bade me do all the good i could, and you won't forbid me?--oh, i know you will not!--and won't you help me to do more,--won't you, uncle richard?" trafford gloomily pushed his nephew away. "go!" he said; "i do not care to see you any more this afternoon." hardly had the boy turned away, however, before the quick thought flashed into his mind that he had failed to ask him the question for which he had called him. he might even now be ill, and he was sending him away in anger! "noll!" exclaimed trafford, "come back. are you ill, my boy?" "no, sir." "why are you so grave and sober of late?" "i didn't know that i was, uncle richard." trafford looked keenly in his nephew's face, and at last drew him toward himself. what if the fever should get a hold of the boy? he thought, anxiously. there was no aid, no succor! "oh, noll," he said, as tenderly as he might, "you cannot know what a blow it would be to me to lose you. won't you be careful for my sake?" "yes, uncle richard; i don't think there is much danger, though. it is only the weak, half-starved ones that are ill." a long silence followed. then noll asked, softly,-- "do you give me permission to help them all i can, uncle richard?" trafford drew a great sigh, as if he felt himself to be yielding, perhaps, the boy's very life, and answered, "yes." "and you'll help me, too?" said noll, brightly. "no! isn't this enough? what more would you have?" "i thought that--that perhaps you would help a little, too,--you can do so much more than i," said noll. trafford shook his head, gloomily. "no," he said; "i can give you nothing but money. i have no heart for the work. and now i think of it, you've had no allowance since you came here, noll. i had not thought of it before. brother noll and i always had spending-money." "but i've no use for it," said noll, with a little laugh; "i couldn't spend it if i tried, uncle richard!" "you may find a use for it when the 'gull' begins her trips again," said his uncle; "at any rate, you shall have an allowance. you will find it on your study table every monday morning." noll thanked his uncle for this kindness, but at the time, was much at a loss what to do with his weekly allowance which every monday morning brought him. he found a use for it, however, as time will show. after this long talk, noll felt somewhat lighter-hearted, if for no other reason than because he had received uncle richard's permission to go on with his work of aid. spring was not far off, and with its coming the fever would most likely flee, and then, he thought, there would be some hope of doing something for the culm people. and was he not already doing something? to noll, it seemed but the merest trifle; in the eyes of the poor fish-folk, his deeds were great and wonderful. all unconsciously, the boy was accomplishing one of the most difficult portions of the task which he had set for himself,--the winning of those rough, untaught hearts. many an uncouth blessing was called down upon the lad's head as he made his appearance day after day at the doors of the habitations which the fever had entered. his cheery, gladsome presence, the culm folk thought, was like a ray of sunshine in the gloom of their hovels. it was curious to see how those great brawny men confided in him, and watched to see him coming down the sands of a morning-time, with his basket of delicacies on one arm, balanced by a basket of more substantial food on the other. not one of the men but what, in their hearts, loved the boy and blessed the day which brought him to culm rock. and, quite before he was aware of it, noll had accomplished one great object, and won the love and confidence of the fish-folk. the snow melted and ran into the sea, the ice in the rock hollows trickled its life away, and warmer winds and sunnier clouds gave token of the spring's coming; and noll grew happier every day and looked gleefully forward to the coming of the "gull," and the tidings which she would bring. often in these days, when returning from his morning round, it seemed to the boy as if his own father's blessing rested upon his heart, it was so light and glad, and that god's love was all about him and smiling over the barren rock and the far, wide sea. chapter xiv. ned thorn. it was on one of the balmiest of spring afternoons that noll went over to culm to see a little child who was recovering from the fever. the sickness, apparently, had run its course, and the people were beginning to take heart; and the men were overhauling their nets and making ready for their summer's work. there had been a heavy storm on the previous evening, and noll found quantities of brilliant sea-weeds and curious shells and pebbles on his walk along the beach, and lingered long to search for treasures and enjoy the bright loveliness of the day. culm rock and the great sea had never looked fairer to him than on this afternoon,--the one lying warm and silent, its great stone ribs purpling under the sun, and the other flecked with curling ripples of snowy foam and emerald light. it was late afternoon when he arrived at the culm houses, and so long did he linger that the sun was dipping in the waves before he was ready to leave his little patient. he was standing in the door, swinging his basket to and fro, and on the point of taking his departure, when a sudden shout of voices from without turned his attention in that direction. there, slowly riding in over the waves all burnished and aflame with ruddy sunlight, was the "gull"! for a few short seconds noll actually stood still with pleasure and delight, then dropping his basket, he ran off across the sand toward the wharf, as fast as he could go. the fishermen were already congregating there, and their wives were standing in the doors of their dwellings to gaze upon the welcome sight. the vessel's white wings slowly brought her round to the little wharf, revealing the skipper's sturdy person, and mr. snape's long and solemn visage. noll could hardly wait for the craft to touch the planks, and skipper ben spied the lad before the "gull" came up, with a dull thump and jar, alongside. "great fishes!" cried he, extending his hand to aid noll in clambering aboard, "if here ben't the lad, alive an' hearty! glad ter see ye,--glad ter see ye!" shaking the boy's hand as if he never would have done. "you may believe i'm glad to see you!" said noll; "i never was so glad to see anything as the old 'gull' in my life; and oh, why didn't you come earlier, skipper?" ben laughed. "i knowed ye hev a hard time on't," he said; "reckoned ye'd be glad ter see the old skipper once more. an', lad, how goes it?" mr. snape came up just here, drawling, "what ye think o' the winters down 'ere, now, lad?" "they _are_ long," said noll; "but i've got through one, somehow. if it weren't for the sickness, and such a long time without letters, i wouldn't mind. oh! skipper, haven't you got a great packet of 'em for me?" "been sick down 'ere; hev ye?" said ben, evading noll's question. "well, that's wuss'n bein' without letters, eh, lad?" "but haven't you got a bundle of 'em for me?" queried noll. "i can't wait, skipper!" the skipper began to slowly shake his head. "sorry," he said, "but i didn't bring ye nary letter this time. don' know but all yer frien's hev forgot ye, fur they didn't give a single scrap o' paper to bring, nor a message, nuther." mr. snape began to grin, seeing how noll's face fell, and how all his joy and eagerness had suddenly vanished, and stepping along to the hatchway, made certain mysterious signs and beckonings to something or some one, there. noll, filled with disappointment, walked away to the stern and looked down into the green depths of water rippling there, and strove to conceal his feelings from the watchful skipper. up from the hatchway and along the deck came a light step,--eager, hurrying,--and before noll could turn around, two arms had clasped him about and held him fast against the rail, while a voice--just as full of laughter and merriness as a voice could be--cried,-- "oh, noll, noll trafford! not to know me! not to _guess_ that i was here! why, you dear old fellow, ain't i better than letters? i've a good mind to never let you look around to pay for not mistrusting that i was here! oh, noll!" "well, i be beat!" said the skipper. "i never seed a lad so dumbfounded afore. what ye goin' to give me fur bringin' ye sech a parcel, master noll?" but noll had only eyes and ears for his friend. "ned, ned thorn!" he exclaimed, looking at his friend with wide-open eyes, as if he thought he was seeing a vision. "it is really you, only grown a little taller!" "of course it is; who else should it be?" said ned, drawing his friend out to one of the skipper's bales, where they could both sit down. "you're brown as an old salt, noll; but you haven't grown a bit! oh, but you may believe i'm glad to see you! i thought you'd be dying by this time to see some one from hastings, and when the skipper pointed out the old stone dungeon where you live, i thought likely you were dead already. what a horrid old fortress 'tis! and weren't you awful homesick? and aren't you terribly moped up in such quarters? and, you dear old noll, how _have_ you managed to live it through, anyhow?" "beats everything at questions, that lad does," observed mr. snape to the skipper; "nigh about pestered me to death, comin' down. you'd better charge double ef yer goin' to carry him home, 'cause it's two days' work fur one man ter tend to his talk. i ben't goin' to do't fur nothin'." "they ben't glad to see each other, eh, jack?" said ben; "wish there was some prospect o' taking t'other home, too." "i sh'u'd be 'feared the 'gull''d founder," said mr. snape. noll, in the midst of happy talk, suddenly recollected that it was after sundown, and that uncle richard and the tea-table would be waiting. "come, ned," he said, gleefully, "i'd forgotten all about sunset and home till this minute. it's a good long walk, and we must start." "i'm ready," said ned, jumping up. "skipper, where's my carpet-bag? i'm going to stay, noll, just as long as you'll keep me; and now i'm anxious for a look inside your old dungeon and a peep at that grim old--that's what the skipper said he was--uncle of yours. do you think he'll scold because i've come?" "indeed not!" said noll; "and uncle richard's not so very grim, either. we'll have splendid times in the old house, and now see if you aren't sorry when it comes time for you to leave culm rock." they clambered over the "gull's" side on to the wharf, and passed through in the little lane which the fishermen made for them, to the smooth and shining sand, and so started for the stone house. ned thorn was a boy of noll's own age, and much resembled him in appearance, though, of the two, ned was a trifle the taller. indeed, as mr. snape observed, leaning over the rail and smoking his pipe while he watched the two lads walking briskly homeward,-- "they're as like as two peas, ben,--did ye note?--only one's more so than t'other." it seemed to noll, while on this homeward walk, that nothing was lacking to make home pleasant, now that ned had come. his friend's presence did not seem a reality, as yet, and he had to listen a long time to ned's merry chatter before he could realize that it was actually ned thorn who was walking beside him in this purple twilight, along the shore of the glimmering, sounding sea. "what a queer place!" said ned, stopping, at the curve of the shore, to look off at the horizon, which seemed to rise higher than their heads, and turning to look at the dark wall of rock behind them; "and what a lonesome sound the waves make! i should have died of the blues in three weeks. and what a miserable set those fishermen are! they all seem to like you, though. did you see how they made way for us, and touched their caps, some of them? what a capital place to fish, off those rocks! i'm glad i brought hooks and lines, and--what's that light ahead? a lighthouse?" "no, only hagar's kitchen window," said noll; "hagar's our black cook, and there's only three of us in that great house, ned!" "i should think you'd lose each other! is your uncle like your father at all?" "no, uncle richard's not much like papa," said noll, with sudden graveness; "but he loves me, and--and i hope you'll like him, ned." they walked the rest of the way in silence till they came to the piazza steps under the shadow of the great stone house. "it looks just as it did when i saw it first," said noll,--"the sea getting dark and shadowy and making that lonesome sound on the pebbles, and oh, how i had to rap and search before i could find my way in! but come on, ned." noll led his friend along the echoing hall, straight to uncle richard's library, where the lamp had been lighted. "this is ned thorn, uncle richard," said he, as they entered, "and he's come clear from hastings to see me." "ned is very welcome," said trafford, who chanced to be in a cheerful mood, "and if you boys are ready, we will go out to tea." noll ran on before to hagar's kitchen, where he burst in, exclaiming,-- "another plate and teacup, hagar! did you know that we have actually got company? it's ned thorn, a dear friend of mine, and he's from hastings, and going to stay--i don't know how long. will you bring them? is tea all ready?" "bress ye!" said hagar, "i's 'stonished to see ye so 'cited, honey. i'll bring de dishes in a minnit." the old housekeeper followed him back to the dining-room, where the new-comer was endeavoring to interest trafford in the account of the day's journey, telling it in such a sprightly manner that the grim master was betrayed into more than one smile. "and now, mr. trafford, i'm going to stay here in this dismal old house just as long as you'll keep me," said ned, in conclusion. "and noll and i are going to have tip-top good times! i don't know as there's a thing we can have fun out of, but if there isn't, we'll invent something. we can fish,--there's one consolation! why, mr. trafford, what does noll do with himself, anyhow? i think he's grown as sober as--as--i don't know what!" "very likely," said trafford, with a shadow of gloom on his face; "this is a sober place. noll has seen much of which you know nothing, and it has made him graver and more thoughtful, i suppose; yet--" "yet you think he's all the better for that?" said ned, merrily. "well, so do i! papa always says i'm too much of a rattle-box; but i can't help it. i couldn't be sober, like noll, if i should try; and you wouldn't want me to; would you, old fellow?" noll looked as if he was entirely suited, now, and secretly wondered what uncle richard thought of his merry, light-hearted friend. the days which followed were happy ones. trafford recollected that noll had had a long winter of study, and granted a vacation to last during ned thorn's stay; so the two boys were at liberty to fish and ramble and explore rock and sand to their hearts' content. they gathered basket after basket full of sea flowers and weeds of vivid dye, to be pressed and packed for transportation to hastings, and such quantities of shells, with an occasional pebble of agate or carnelian, that ned laughingly declared,-- "i'll have just all the baggage the 'gull' can float under, noll. i'll have to charter it to convey me and mine; for the skipper won't take me under any other condition, you may be sure." and these days were merry ones too. hagar declared, "dat yer thorn boy beat eberyt'ing dis ole woman eber seed. 'peared like ther' was more'n forty boys racin' up an' down dem yer stairs, an' laughin' at de tops ob ther voices. neber seed nuffn like it, nohow! but is ye sorry, hagar? ye knows ye isn't! ye likes to hear dis yer ole house waked up an' 'pear as ef 'twas good fur somethin' 'sides holdin' mis'ry." noll more than once trembled lest uncle richard should be displeased at this unusual clamor and mirthfulness, and banish ned in anger; but day after day passed, and trafford made no opposition to the boys' plans or proceedings, and apparently took quite a fancy to noll's friend. "i'd just like to coax your uncle into playing a game of ball with us," said ned, as the two sat on the piazza one evening at twilight; "do you suppose he would consent?" "uncle richard play ball!" exclaimed noll, laughing at the idea. "no! i would almost as soon expect to see this old stone house playing at toss and catch." "well, he _is_ the strangest man!" observed ned; "but he loves you,--i can see that, every day,---and perhaps he'll come out as bright as a dollar, by and by. and--do you remember?--you was to tell me about that plan to-night. go in, noll dear,--i'm all attention." chapter xv. plans. noll looked thoughtfully on the sea a few minutes before he said, "i don't know what you'll say, ned, the plan is so difficult; but i've thought of it a long time,--i believe it's been in my head every day for the last two months,--and it seems to me it is possible. oh! if it _were_, i'd be the happiest boy in the land!" "well, now what have you got in your head, i'd like to know?" said ned; "tell me quickly, for i hate long speeches, you know." "well, in the first place, you must know i want to help those culm people, somehow. that's--" "yes," interrupted ned, "they need 'helping,' i should think! they're the laziest, miserablest set of people i ever saw. some of 'em need 'helping' with a good, sound punching,--'twould stir 'em up a little." "that's the object of the plan, and the next thing is how to do it," continued noll. "if papa had only lived here a little time, i know it would have been a different place, and i want to make it what he would have made it; but, though i can't do that, i want to do something." "i'll warrant you do!" said ned, edging nearer his friend. "what do you think hagar has told me about your work this winter? you _are_ the funniest fellow, and i don't see what puts such ideas in your head, anyhow!--they never get into mine." "well, i'll never get to my plan at this rate," said noll, laughing a bit. "i don't believe the people will ever be any cleaner or more industrious till they have better houses to live in, and they're too poor to buy lumber and make repairs. now, if i could only accomplish that, i think they'd soon have some pride in keeping their dwellings nice and neat, and that would keep the fever away, and perhaps--i almost _know_--they'd soon be a different people!" "my stars!" exclaimed ned, "what're you thinking of? do you really mean that--that you're going to repair their huts for them?" "yes, that is what i wish to do, and what i've been planning for," said noll, peering through the dusk to see how ned received the project; "and do you think i'll succeed?--do you think it is possible?" ned was silent a few seconds, and the low voice of the sea rose and murmured far up and down the beach-line and died away in a faint whisper before he replied, "well, i _am_ astonished! and if any one else had proposed it, i should say they were out of their wits. now, what are those dirty fishermen to you, noll?" "that was not the question," said noll. "do you think i can succeed?" "i don't know,--can't tell,--it's all so sudden. where will you get the money? and why don't your uncle richard do the work, instead of you?" "uncle richard? why, he--he doesn't care for the culm people," noll was obliged to confess; "but as for the money, i think i can manage that. you see, he gives me more spending-money every week than i used to have in a whole quarter,--i showed you all my savings the other night, you remember,--and it has got to be quite a sum. then i have about as much more that mr. gray gave me when i came away, and with this i'll make a commencement. the--" "but what will your uncle say? does he know?" queried ned. "no, he knows nothing about it. but he gave me permission, a long time ago, to aid the culm people, and he lets me do as i choose with my money. so doesn't my plan seem possible?" "yes, if you can tell where lumber and nails and a carpenter are to come from," said ned. "oh! but those will have to come down from hastings, on the 'gull,' of course. there's nothing here to do with," said noll; "and i mean to coax ben tate to buy the lumber and hire a carpenter for me. you see, i've got it all planned, and if it will only work!" "my stars!" said ned, "i didn't know you were such a fellow. why, i don't wonder these fish-folks all touch their hats to you,--they can afford to, i think. and, noll, won't you tell me what these people are to you? i can't see, for the life of me! and why should you spend all your money for them?" noll hesitated, not feeling certain that ned would understand his reason, if he told him, and, looking up at the stars, which had come out in great fleets over the sea, was silent. but ned got up, came to noll's end of the step, and, sitting down beside him, said,-- "now for your reason! i'll not be put off at all. won't you tell me?" "yes, if you wish very much to know," said noll, in a lower tone. "i think everybody has a work to do,--a work that god gives them,--and i think this is mine, that he has given me. and i promised always to do his work, and i mean to do it, if i can. besides," he added, softly taking ned's hand in his, "it is work that papa would do if he were here, and i know that he, too, would be glad to have me do it. wouldn't you be anxious to get about it at once, and without waiting for the culm people to sink lower, if you thought it was your work and waiting for your hands? wouldn't you, ned?" noll's friend was suddenly silent. it was hardly such a reason as he had expected to hear, and what to reply he did not know. "noll always was the funniest fellow ever since i knew him!" he thought to himself. noll waited, and tried to look into his friend's face, and feared that ned did not comprehend his motives, after all. at last he said, "don't you understand?" "oh, yes," said ned, quickly, "but i--well--i didn't know what to say, and, somehow, you make me ashamed. it seems too bad for you to waste--spend, i mean--your money for those fishermen." "oh, no," said noll, "i've no need of it for myself, and if i had, they need it more than i. and, ned, i want to beg you to help me. will you?" "pshaw! i'd be no help at all!" said ned; "i'm no good at such things." "but will you try?" said noll, eagerly. "yes, if you wish. but i'll be sure to bother or make a mess of something,--see if i don't!" at that instant the hall door behind them opened, and trafford stepped out. so dark had it grown that he failed, at first, to see the two figures on the step; but when a little stir of ned's betrayed them, he exclaimed, in a tone of great relief,-- "ah, here you are, boys! i feared that--that you were up the shore, perhaps. come in, come in. why do you sit here in the darkness?" "so i say!" said ned, briskly, and not regretting this interruption; "what _are_ we sitting here in the dark for, noll? let's go in!" as they were groping along their darksome way to the library, ned whispered,-- "when are you going to begin your plan, or 'put it in execution,' as the books say?" "the skipper will touch here to-morrow; i'd like to see him then," said noll. "why not?" returned ned. "we can get up early and run over to culm before breakfast, and coax ben into doing the business for you." "we will!" said noll, gladly, "and have the work begun at once; and i knew you'd be willing to help. oh, ned, i wish you were to stay here always." the boys did not linger long in the library after arriving there, but went up to noll's chamber, where his little hoard of money was brought forth and counted. neither of the lads knew how far it would go toward purchasing lumber, but to them the sum in hand seemed a large one, and they decided, after much deliberation, to place it in ben's hands, and trust to his judgment and discretion. "but how is the carpenter to be paid for his labor, if this all goes for lumber?" queried ned. "why, my spending-money is accumulating all the time," said noll, "and though that won't be enough, i'll manage to get the rest, somehow. i'll write to mr. gray, or do something that will bring it." they were both up at the first glimmer of dawn the next morning, and on their way to culm long before the mist had fled from off the face of the sea. they ran, and made all possible haste, and were only just in time after all; for ben was about to stand out on the day's journey as they came panting and breathless on to the little wharf. "what be wantin' now, lads?" he cried, gruffly; "we be in a hurry to get off!" "but you must wait a few minutes," said ned, "for we want to come aboard, skipper. we can't run a mile for nothing, and before breakfast too." "s'pose i shall hev ter!" grumbled ben, as he gave them each a hand to help them up. noll brought forth his roll of money, and narrated his errand, disclosing for what object the lumber was to be purchased. ben sat down and stared blankly at the boy, while mr. snape, who had drawn near, looked utterly bewildered. "let me hear ye say that agen," said ben, when his scattered senses began to return; "i think i did not hear ye rightly." noll repeated his errand, aided by some impatient explanations which ned threw in for the skipper's benefit. "well," said the "gull's" master, as he concluded, "i be beat! why, lad, 'tw'u'd be like throwin' yer silver into the sea to spend it on them good-fur-nothin', shif'less critters. an' what be the like o' them to you?" "why," said ned, coming to noll's relief, "he want's to do them good. can't you see through a ladder, ben? and what we want to know is whether you will do the business?" the skipper was silent for a time. what was passing in his mind, the boys did not suspect, and they feared lest he should refuse. but presently he got up, saying, with gruffness which was assumed to hide a sudden tenderness in the old sailor's heart,-- "i ken do't fur ye, lad, i s'pose!--tho' i call ye foolish all the same. the 'gull' be engaged fur the next run, but the next arter that ye shall hev yer boards an' yer carpenter." "that will be week after next," said ned. "hurrah for you, ben! and i want to engage a passage home for next week. come, noll, let's go back and let the skipper put out, if he's in such a hurry. a good voyage to you, ben!--and don't you forget that i'm to go next week, now!" "ay, ay," said ben, "get along with you!" and over the side went the boys, and, after a little delay, off went the "gull" with noll's precious savings on board. "wait," said noll, as they left the wharf, "there's dirk sharp out there with his boat, ready to put off. wait here, ned, till i've spoken with him." and noll ran off across the sand. ned sat down on the wharf and watched his friend and the fisherman. they were sufficiently near for him to note the expressions upon their faces, and when he saw the blank look of wonder and incredulity that suddenly came over dirk's coarse features, he suspected that noll was disclosing his project. "oh, but noll _is_ a queer fellow," he said to himself. "how can he care for these dirty, dull-witted fellows that can't spell their own names, when he is so smart and such a long, long way above them?" but noll, he remembered, had answered this question on the previous evening; yet ned could hardly comprehend such motives, and so sat puzzling his head over it till his friend came back with a pleased and happy face, to say,-- "i'm ready now. you should have seen dirk when i told what was going to be done! the great fellow almost cried before i could finish; and he's promised to aid me in a dozen ways, at least, and promised, oh! so much besides. and it seems as if i'll be the happiest boy in the world when once things are under way." "i suppose you will be," said ned, with something like a sigh, "and i wish i could stay and see how the huts'll look after you've done with them. however," he added, brightly, "i can come again sometime,--there's one consolation." the fair spring days went on with the speed with which all happy days fly by, and little by little the culm people began to talk among themselves of the--to them--great event which was to take place so soon. noll overheard one old fish-wife say, "we ben't slick 'nough for new housen; ther'll hev to be great scrubbin' an' scourin' that day, eh, janet?" to her slatternly daughter-in-law; and the boy mentally prayed that this opinion would gain ground among all the fish-folk. if there was only some one to teach the children, and save them from the utter ignorance which was their parents', there would be great hope for culm, he thought. ned thorn went home, and this was the only sad day which noll knew during the two weeks' waiting. he could not bid ned good-by and see the dear, merry face fade away, as the "gull" departed, without a great choking in his throat and a heaviness of heart that made one day a lonely, homesick one. chapter xvi. the work begun. you may be sure that noll did not fail to be at culm village when the "gull" and its precious freight arrived. the sky had been overcast all day and the sea somewhat rough, so that he was not certain that ben would set sail from hastings. but about half-past four in the afternoon the white wings of the skipper's craft hovered on the horizon, and soon after began to loom into shape and proportion. noll first descried the welcome sight while standing on the piazza steps, anxiously surveying the sea and sky. a strong and vigorous breeze bore the "gull" rapidly before it, and it was soon evident that it would arrive at the wharf before himself, unless he started soon. recitations were over an hour ago, and he was now at liberty to go where he chose, and accordingly started for culm at once. he arrived there some time before ben and his craft, after all, and was forced to sit and wait impatiently. he could see the yellow lumber long enough before the "gull" was in hailing distance, and knew that ben had been successful. the skipper came alongside at last, shouting at the top of his voice, "ahoy, there, men! give us a hand at this 'ere lumber, an' be spry about it, fur there's a storm brewin', an' i've got ter be twenty mile down the coast afore it breaks!" the fishermen drew near at this summons, and as soon as the "gull" was fast, they began to unload the cargo, under the carpenter's directions. it was carried well up the sand to preserve it from the dash of the sea and the treachery of the tide, and noll stood looking on with a heart so full of joy and satisfaction that he forgot all about the skipper till a gruff voice cried, "why don't ye come aboard, lad? here be sumat fur ye that come from the city. it be a mighty thick letter, somehow. give us yer hand an' come up, lad!" noll got aboard quickly enough after this intelligence, and took the packet which the skipper fished out from under his pea-jacket, saying, "i wonder if it can be from ned?" "how ken i tell?" said ben, evasively. "best open it, lad,--best open it." noll quickly had the envelope open, and, holding the packet upside down, there fell out upon the deck a thick little wad of bank-notes, which the wind threatened to take off into the sea before the boy's astonished senses returned to him. ben prevented such a disaster, however, by picking up the roll and placing it in noll's hand, with, "it's worth savin', lad, fur 'tain't every bush that grows sech blossoms, eh?" "i should think not," said noll, still full of amazement, and hurriedly opened his letter to see where this bounty hailed from, while ben walked off to assist in his craft's unlading. this is what noll's wondering eyes found:-- "hastings, may th. "dear noll,--i can imagine just how your eyes are staring by this time; but you needn't be alarmed, for i came by the money honestly. this is how it was: papa said i might have a new pony if i would save my spending-money till i got a third of the sum which one would cost, and so, though i didn't hint of it to you when i was down at culm, i've been laying up and laying up, like an old miser; and last monday morning i found that i had got the sum, and so papa made up the rest to me. but when i thought of you and those miserable culm people, and how you were making a fool of yourself (as ben t. said), i thought i'd like to--to--well, let pony go, and help you a bit. so here's the whole sum (if you get it safe), and you're just as welcome as you can be, and don't you make any fuss about it, for it's your own, and i can go without spending-money if you can, and am willing to too. and it's no great denial, either, for the pony'll come sometime, i'm quite sure. so don't you worry any more about how the carpenter is to be paid. good-by, dear old fellow, "ned thorn. "p.s.--i was just as dismal as i could be after i got home, longing to go back to that dreary, dismal, good-for-nothing culm rock. the shells, etc., got here all right. give my respects to uncle richard, and tell him i'll come down and turn his house topsy-turvy for him again next summer, if he wants me to. don't you forget to send a letter back by ben, now." noll finished this characteristic letter with something very like tears in his eyes. "the dear, generous fellow!" he thought to himself; "how could he ever bring himself to do it? for it _is_ a denial, because ned is _so_ fond of a horse! and he claimed, all the time, that he never could help at all!" ben came stumping along the deck with his gruff, "well, we hev brought yer lumber an' yer carpenter, lad,--both on 'em the best i c'u'd find. one's 'bout stacked up on the sand, yender, and t'other'll be waitin' fur yer orders purty soon. he's good at his trade, john sampson be, an' he'll do fair an' square by ye. john ben't delicate neither, an' won't mind the livin' he'll get 'mongst these 'ere good-fur-nothin's,--i looked out fur that, ye see." "i thank you more than i can tell, ben," said noll, taking the skipper's hand; "and have you taken your pay for the freight and all the trouble?" "the freight be paid fur," said ben, "an' the trouble likewise. an' ef ye hev anythin' more fur the 'gull' ter do, don't ye be backward, boy, about lettin' her know't." the last of the lumber was now being dragged up the sand, and the skipper hurried away, saying,-- "luck ter ye an' yer undertakin', lad! we be in a desput hurry to get off, fur we'd stan' a poor chance on this shore in a storm." noll wished the skipper a safe run to a better harbor, and went back to the wharf, where the carpenter intercepted him. he was a rough, blunt-spoken man, but was evidently "good at his trade," as ben had said, and did not despair of making the culm huts decent and habitable; and after a long talk with him, noll started for home, as the afternoon was fast giving way to a gray and lowery night. his heart was full of gratitude and love to ned, and he stopped more than once on his homeward walk to read the letter over by the gray glimmer of twilight. at first he was more than half resolved to return the money, and bid his friend to buy the pony,--it seemed such a great denial for horse-loving, mirthful ned to make,--but as he read the letter again and again, and pondered over its contents, he began to think that his friend had more earnestness and love for kind-doing than he had ever suspected. "i wronged the poor fellow," he thought to himself, "because he was so merry and careless all the time. and now he's sent me this great roll of bills to help those people whom he pretended to hate! oh, i wonder if it is best to keep them?" this question was not decided then. it took more than one day's thought about the matter before he at last concluded to accept ned's bounty, and perhaps he would not have decided thus at all if he had been quite sure that his friend would not be greatly grieved and offended at having the money returned. meanwhile, the carpenter commenced operations. dirk's house was the first to undergo repairs, and noll took every opportunity to go over to culm to see how matters were progressing. it was a great delight to him to watch john sampson at his labor, and note how saw and hammer and plane, guided by his strong and skilful hand, repaired the rents, brought the shackling doors and windows to comfortable tightness, made the crooked and twisted roofs to assume something like straight and even proportions, and righted matters generally. when dirk's habitation was thoroughly repaired, it was the wonder and admiration of all the culm people. "it be like what it was when i was a gal, an' all the housen was new," said one old fish-wife, who had tottered in with the others. "ay, mother," said dirk, "an' it be time we had new habits to go with the new housen, eh?" noll had not allowed any good opportunities, wherein he might hint to dirk that cleanliness and industry should reign in the snug new quarters, to pass without improving them. dirk, out of regard and gratitude to "the young master," as he called him, was willing to make the attempt, and strove, in his bungling way, to impress his neighbors with the fact that they were expected to reform their way of living. but it was up-hill work for people who had lived all their life in filth and wretchedness, and progressed but slowly. many were the hours, after the recitations were over, that noll spent over at the little village those warm days, planning with john sampson about broken doors and shattered beams, which were to be made strong and serviceable, or, sitting on a pile of lumber, watching the carpenter as he put in execution the plans which they had made. the children of the village were generally playing near by, in the sand, with blocks and chips,--growing up as unlettered and ignorant as their parents. some of them were great boys and girls,--almost as tall as noll himself,--and had never yet seen the inside of a book. "if uncle richard would only hire a teacher," thought noll, "and have them grow up with some knowledge in their heads, they'd never get so low and wretched as their parents. but that never'll be, i'm afraid. oh! if i were only rich, how quick i'd change it all!" but there was no prospect of any such fortune befalling him, and he usually turned away from the cluster of dirty, unkempt children with a hopeless sigh. he said, one day, while sitting on a great heap of shingles beside the carpenter,-- "what's to become of all these children, mr. sampson? will they be left to grow up like their fathers and mothers?" "well, i don't see much to hinder," said the carpenter, with a glance at the dirty little ones who were throwing sand over their heads. "don't think you'll ever see many lawyers and ministers out o' the lot." "if there could only be a school here," continued noll, "what a change it would make! but there's no teacher, no schoolroom, no nothing, and no prospect of there ever being anything!" "why don't you teach 'em yourself?" said sampson, between the creakings and rasping of his saw. noll was silent for a few minutes before he answered, "why, to tell the truth, i never had thought of the thing. but how can i? i don't have any time till after four o'clock." the carpenter sawed and planed, and made no reply, being entirely indifferent to the whole matter; but his chance question had put an idea in noll's head which was not out of it for that afternoon, at least. could he teach those idle, ignorant children? he wondered. would they ever sit still long enough to look in a book? and where could a room for the school be found? and where was the leisure time to come from? noll pondered over these questions many days, and several times came near discarding the plan as impracticable. he knew that he could only have the time after recitations were over for his own, and that, at the most, would be only an hour or two,--the time between four o'clock and the supper-hour. he was quite sure that he was willing to give this time to the culm children, if it would do any good, and if a room could be found for them to assemble in. a whole week of days went by before he mentioned this plan to any one, and then it was only dirk to whom he mentioned it. the rough fisherman looked upon reading and writing as some of the wonderful and mysterious arts to which dull and humble people like himself had no right. he looked blank and mystified at noll's proposition, and expressed himself thus:-- "i don' know, i don' know, lad,--we but poor folk anyway. but ye ken do as ye like, an' ef ye say so, the youngsters shall take ter books an' sech, an' ye ken hev a room where ye say, i'll say fur't. i don' know, i don' know, lad; ye mus' do as ye think it best, anyway." chapter xvii. the work progressing. studies at home progressed steadily under uncle richard's supervision, meanwhile, and that grim gentleman found much more pleasure and satisfaction in directing his nephew's tasks than he would have been willing to acknowledge. the boy brought so much brightness and pleasant life into the gloomy stone house that the stern master, as week after week passed by, visibly began to lose something of his grimness and gloominess, and to take something like a faint interest in what was passing around him. and, after a time, he himself began to be sensible of this gradual change which was stealing over his thoughts and actions, and, vexed with himself, strove to check these new emotions, and wrap himself again in the cloak of sadness and melancholy which so long had shielded him from everything bright and cheerful and happy. but he found it hardly an easy task. noll was almost always blithe and light-hearted, and trafford found his bright influence a hard one to struggle against. he loved the boy so well that it was almost an impossibility to harden his heart to all his winning ways and pleasant talk, which met him so constantly, and these summer days, which noll found such delight in, were days of struggle and wavering to his uncle. he could not but acknowledge to himself that he was interested in all the boy's plans for the future,--all his youthful anticipations of happiness and success,--all his present little projects for progress and self-improvement,--and these matters, trivial though they may have been, gradually drew his thoughts from himself and his sorrow, put them farther and farther away into the dimness and silence of the past, and made the present a more vivid and earnest reality. was it any wonder that, seeing he could not maintain his gloom and grimness in noll's sunshine, and finding it slipping away from him in spite of his endeavors to retain it, he should astonish his nephew by strange fits of moroseness, alternating with the utmost kindness and indulgence? the boy sometimes fancied that his uncle had grown to utterly dislike him,--being so irritable and unjust at times; then again his heart was light with joy and hope, for he fancied that the grim man was just on the point of losing his great burden of gloom, and becoming hopeful and unoppressed. but how could he be hopeful for whom there was no hope?--who refused to trust in god's promises?--for whom the shadow of the grave was utter darkness and horror, wherein dear faces had vanished--forever? one day noll had begged him to come out for a walk on the beach, thinking he would lead his uncle on and on till they should come out upon culm village, and in this manner disclose what he had been doing for the dwellings and their inmates. trafford at first appeared inclined to consent, and followed his nephew out as far as the piazza steps, but here he stopped, and all noll's entreaties could not prevail upon him to go further. he sat down, looking dispiritedly across the tranquil sea, all warm and fair with changing lights, and down at his feet at the bit of verdure which noll had caused to flourish by dint of much seed-sowing and watering, saying, "no, i've no part in it all. i'll go no further." so noll was obliged to set off for culm alone, consoling himself with the thought that next time, perhaps, he should be so successful as to get uncle richard a little farther, and next time a little way farther still, till, at last, they might walk together as uncle and nephew should. would that happy day ever come? he wondered. at last, after many delays and hindrances, the plan of a school was decided upon. noll did not begin the undertaking with much confidence of success, or with any great hope of making the culm children very bright or vigorous scholars; but it would be something toward supplying the great want, he thought, and who could tell what this little beginning might lead to? so, about half-past four one misty, lowery afternoon, he found himself in a little room in dirk's dwelling, with ten dirty-faced, frowsy-headed children huddled together in one corner, each of them regarding him with wide-open eyes, and apparently without the remotest idea what they were there for. the only furniture which the "schoolroom" could boast were two rough benches, just from john sampson's hands, and a three-legged stool, which noll appropriated to himself. of course none of the ten had anything in the shape of books or primers, and here the boy had reason to rejoice that all his old school-books had made the journey with himself to culm. after getting the wondering assemblage seated in proper order, noll began by asking, "who wants to learn to read?" it seemed as if the sound of his voice had wrought a spell, for each of the ten were as silent as so many mutes. "who would like to know how to read?" noll repeated. still a long silence, most discouraging to the teacher. at last--the sound of his voice a most welcome one to noll--a little fellow, who sat on the end of one of the benches, ventured to query, "what be 'read'?" "well," thought the would-be teacher, "i've got to explain what 'read' is before they'll know whether they fancy it, to be sure! i didn't think of that." among his books was a great primer, with painted letters and pictures, and bringing this forth, he gathered the ten around him, and used all his powers of description and story-telling to endeavor to awaken the slumbering interest of these unpromising pupils. it was a weary hour's work. a few of them betrayed a slight curiosity in regard to the bright colors, which noll endeavored to stimulate; but it soon died out, and all looked on and listened with listless attention. they appeared much more inclined to stand with their fingers in their mouths, and gaze steadfastly into noll's face, than to put eyes on the book. "if i had the alphabet stamped upon my face, i believe they'd learn it easily enough!" he thought to himself, in despair, as, on looking up, he found the whole ten staring in his face, instead of having had their eyes upon the primer during his long explanation. as a last resort, he stepped out upon the sand in front of the door, and there drew a great a. "now," said he, "see which of you can make a letter like that. take a stick and try, every one of you. look sharp, and make it just like the one i've made." thereupon, there was a great searching for sticks, and when all the little ones had been supplied, there was a great scratching and marking in the sand. to noll's great delight, the result was two or three tolerable a's, which were allowed to stand, and the rest were brushed away. then a new attempt at making the wonderful symbol ensued, and added another to the successful list, and so the letter-making was kept up till all the pupils had succeeded in making a tolerably faithful representation of the letter. noll began to take heart. what the children cared nothing for, when seen in the book, they were apparently delighted to draw on the sand, and soon learned to give the proper pronunciation of the character. the night came on apace, and noll began to perceive that it was time for him to be on his homeward way. "remember," he said to his pupils, who were scratching a's all about the door, "you're not to forget this while i'm gone. to-morrow afternoon i'll come again, and then i shall want to see you make it over, and you are to have a new letter, besides. will you all be here?" "yes! yes!" one after another promised; and, once more bidding them remember, noll walked away,--the children still making the mysterious character along the beach, and keeping it up till darkness came over sea and land. "only one letter!" noll said to himself, as he hurried homeward. "why, that's not a tenth of what i meant to do this afternoon! what dull wits they've got! and will they ever, ever learn the whole alphabet?" the prospect did not seem very encouraging, and he was obliged to confess himself disappointed with the result of the first day's lesson. "however, one can't tell much by the first afternoon," he thought. "perhaps they'll be quicker and brighter when we're better acquainted." the next afternoon he arrived at dirk's house at the appointed time, and found not ten, but twelve awaiting him, sticks in hand, and all eager for the lesson to commence. noll could not refrain from laughing at the sight which the sand directly in front of the house presented, covered as it was with a's of all shapes and sizes. it looked much as if a great bird, with a peculiarly-constructed foot, had been walking there. he did not need to be assured that his pupils had all remembered yesterday's lesson, and proceeded at once to instruct them in the art of making b. this the young learners of the alphabet found to be somewhat more difficult of execution, but appeared to like it none the less on that account, and, after its curves were mastered, were much delighted with this acquisition to their stock of accomplishments. while this second lesson was yet in progress, dirk and one or two other fishermen came up from their boats, and stopped to look on, with wonder and astonishment written on their countenances. "i don' know," said dirk, shaking his head as he eyed the mystic characters traced before him; "we be all poor folk, anyhow, an' this do beat me! why, what be this?" he exclaimed, pointing at a letter staring up at him from the sand at his feet. "that be a!" said half a dozen voices at once. "an' what be this?" said hark darby, pointing to a character by his feet. "that be b!" chorused the voices again. the two fishermen exchanged wondering glances. "that do beat me!" said poor dirk, regarding the letters before him with much awe. "ah, lad," turning to noll, "my little gal w'u'd liked yer teaching, an' yer b's an' a's, eh?" and dirk drew his hand across his eyes. noll went home much encouraged after this second alphabet lesson. time and patience would do something for these culm children, after all, he thought. and could he have the patience and skill which was necessary? "i'll try,--i'll try hard for it!" he thought, "and pray christ to keep me from losing my patience and courage. it's his work, and he'll help me to teach them, and by winter there'll be something accomplished." and of his help he had great need, for patience and courage were often sorely tried in the days which followed, and it was not always his pupils' obtuseness which brought the greatest strain to bear upon them. one old fish-wife, the oldest woman in the village, had regarded the whole plan of teaching the children as suspicious and ill-omened. "it be a bad day fur us, lads," she warned, standing on dirk's door-step among the fishermen, and looking frowningly upon noll as he instructed his pupils in the making of u. "it be no good fur yer chile to be ther', hark darby, learnin' ye don' know what! yes, lads, i say it be an evil day, and ye'll find no good cum from it! i warn ye, i warn ye!" shaking her skinny forefinger and solemnly nodding her head. noll's face flushed at these words, and he half resolved to go home, and leave these culm children to their parents' ignorance. "i warn ye! i--" the old crone was about to continue her forebodings; but dirk interposed with a gruff, "hush ye, hush ye, mother deb! ye be doin' the lad wrong. d'ye think he be one to teach our young uns wrong, eh? be it evil, think ye? w'u'd he be doin' us a bad turn who's mendin' the housen an' makin' us comf'table? i'd like ye ter show't, mother, ef it be!" "ay," said hark darby, "an' ef he ken do us evil, who ha' been so good an' kind in the sickness, we w'u'd like ye ter show't, mother deb!" the old woman said no more, but went muttering homeward, not all convinced that noll was not teaching the children some evil, mysterious art. chapter xviii. the work finished. the days went by,--busy enough for noll with lessons and the afternoon lesson at culm,--and john sampson's labors began to draw to a close. the carpenter had worked steadily and faithfully, and the result was a gratifying one to more than one person. true, the houses were not models of elegance; that was not needed; and they _did_ look somewhat patchy, with here and there a fresh new board over the old weather-beaten gray of the dwelling, and new doors staring blank and yellow out of the dinginess of their surroundings; but, if they were not handsome, they were thoroughly repaired and now stood warmer and more comfortable than any of the present generation of culm people had ever known them. if they could only have a coat of paint or whitewash to make them look fresh and cheerful, what an improvement it would be! noll thought. how the sun would gleam upon them with his last ruddy rays as he sank into the sea! how fair and pleasant they would look from the sea, when the coast first came upon the mariner's vision! it would be one bright spot against the black background of the rock,--those twelve houses,--if only they might have a coat of fresh white paint. but after counting his stock of money, this desire was obliged to remain ungratified; for there was the carpenter's bill, which would shortly be due, and must be paid upon the completion of the work. "the houses must wait till--till another year," noll thought, with something like a sigh; "they can wait, after all, for the painting isn't really necessary, though it would improve them wonderfully! and i'm thankful enough that i can pay the carpenter. oh, but i wonder if ned ever regrets his denial, and longs for the pony?" letters came down from ned thorn with almost every trip of the "gull," but not a word about the pony did they contain, nor the least sentence which noll could interpret to mean a sigh or regret for the pet which he had given up. if ned felt any regret, it was all carefully hidden from his friend's observation, and the missives, which noll received through the skipper's kindness, were fairly bubbling over with the briskness and bright spirits of ned's light heart. "if they should stop coming, i don't know how i _could_ manage," thought noll; "i'm afraid culm rock would grow dreadfully lonesome and dreary." it was always, "and how do you get on with your plan?--and are the houses 'most finished?" or, "have you got those culm savages almost civilized, you dear old noll?--and does uncle richard know anything about it yet? won't he stare! and what do you suppose he'll say?" or, "oh, now i think of it, how many scholars in latin have you got down there? and how do they manage with their greek? and are you putting on airs because you've got to be a pedagogue? and how much is the tuition a term?--because, you see, i've some idea of going away to boarding-school, and yours might suit me, if the charges aren't too high." and the whole generally concluded with, "p. s.--i don't mean a word of all that last i've written, my dear noll, and you're not to think so. how does the money hold out? don't fail to let me know if you're in a tight place, and i'll try to get a few dollars somehow. and hurry up and answer this letter by return steamer (what should we do if the old 'gull' went to the bottom?), and so good-night," etc., etc. perhaps noll expected a great deal too much of the culm people when he looked to see them give up their filthy and slovenly habits at once, after getting fairly settled again in their whole and comfortable abodes. if he really expected to see this, he was disappointed. people do not follow a habit for the best part of a lifetime, to give it up suddenly and at once, even when gratitude and a sense of their short-coming are both urging them to do so. so he was obliged to content himself with some few faint evidences of thrift, and a desire to do better, on the part of those whom he had befriended, and wait patiently for the rest. dirk's household improved somewhat. dirk was the most intelligent of the fishermen, and began to dimly perceive that it was much better and pleasanter to live cleanly and neatly than to pattern his household arrangements after the beasts of the field. he was, moreover, strongly actuated to reform his way of living by his deep, strong sense of gratitude to noll, which led him to endeavor to accomplish whatever the boy suggested. it gave the stalwart fisherman something like a feeling of shame to see the lad--bright, fresh, and ruddy--enter his dirty and smoke-begrimed hovel and hardly be able to find himself a seat among the litter of old nets, broken chairs, household utensils, and all conceivable kinds of rubbish which strewed the floors and filled the corners. "it be a shame," dirk said to his wife, after noll had gone, one day, "that the lad hev ter stan' up, an' ben't able ter find a seat, nohow. i tell ye it be a shame, woman!" "ye might mend the chairs a bit, man!" retorted mrs. sharp. "i'll warrant the lad be able ter find a seat then." dirk was sulky for a while after this, but saw that there could be nothing to sit upon so long as the chairs were for the most part legless, and at last got energy enough to mend them after a rude fashion. then another place was found for the old nets besides the two corners by the fireplace, and when these had been removed, mrs. sharp took her broom and--well, it was not exactly sweeping, for the woman had not much idea of what a good housekeeper would call sweeping, but it was a feeble attempt at cleanliness, and she really thought she had made a great exertion, and was certainly proud of the achievement. dirk chanced to be at home when noll came again, and the flash of surprise and pleasure which swept over the boy's face as he entered and noted the change which had taken place since his last call pleased dirk amazingly. "here be a seat fur ye, lad," he said, not without some pride in his tone, as he brought forward a rough three-legged block and placed it for his visitor. a faint stir of worthy ambition having slightly roused dirk and his wife, they were hardly contented to allow matters to remain as they were. mrs. sharp once more took her broom, and used it with rather better effect. dirk made an onslaught upon the rubbish which had been collecting in their kitchen and about the doorsteps for years, and which no one had had the energy to remove, and threw many a basketful into the sea. the neighbors, meanwhile, were not entirely insensible to the fact that dirk's house began to present--both within and without--a much more cleanly and respectable appearance than their own. they stopped at the door to look in and say, "la, ye be slickin' up finely, dirk!" or, "ye be gittin' fine ways, lately, man. an' what be all this fur?" "why," dirk would answer, "i be 'shamed of livin' like a beast, man. an' the young master be wishin' us to hev cleaner housen an' slicker, an' i be willin' to do't ef he wish, now! he be a good lad to mend our housen so finely, and w'u'd ye think i ben't willin' to do his wish?" noll was greatly encouraged at these signs of improvement, and mentally rejoiced, hoping to see this new ambition spread till the whole twelve houses were reclaimed from their present filth and wretchedness. the carpenter's work came to an end at last,--his labor all plain and visible to every eye in patched walls, roofs, mended doors and windows, and the general look of repair about the whole line of what were once but the poorest of shelters. sampson's task had been a hard and bothersome one,--"couldn't ha' got another man to teched it," the skipper said,--and noll expected, as he walked around to culm one afternoon with his roll of bills to pay the carpenter, that the bill would be a large one,--perhaps even more than ned's generous bounty and his own amount of spending-money, saved since the lumber was purchased, could meet. he found sampson packing up his tools,--he was to leave on the "gull" the next morning,--with the bill all ready, added up and written out on a bit of smooth shingle. it proved to be five dollars less than the sum which noll held in his hand. "i swun!" said sampson, roughly, as he counted over the bills which the boy placed in his hands, "i told the skipper, comin' down, that you was a born fool to be layin' out your money in this style. now, i've been thinkin' on't over all the while i've been hammerin' and sawin', and i can't make out, to save my neck, how you're goin' to get any return from this 'ere investment. 'tain't payin' property, i should judge," said the carpenter, looking up and down the beach. "of course i don't expect to get any money back from it," said noll, laughing a little at the idea. "it was to help these fish-folk and to try and make them more comfortable that i did it." sampson put the roll of bills away in his capacious purse, remarking, "well, you're a queer un. i did the job right well, though, if i do say it, and i ha'n't charged very steep for it, neither. couldn't do it, somehow!--went too much against the grain. and--well, can't you shake hands over it? you're a tip-top paymaster, and if you want anything done, i'll come and do it, if i'm in china--there! don't you lay out another cent on this settlement, though,--'tain't worth it." noll did not promise to take this advice, and started homeward, sampson calling after him, "good-by, good-by, lad! hope you'll get some return from this 'ere investment!" so the work was done, and a glad and happy letter went over the sea to hastings, telling ned thorn that the labor was accomplished, and the houses all as whole and comfortable as when new, and that the people were actually beginning to show a little thrift and ambition; and saying, among other things, "i send you back five dollars that were left,--so you can begin to save your money again for that pony. and, oh! ned, i don't think you can know how much good that money did! perhaps you never will know (it must seem to you almost like throwing it away, because you are where you cannot see any result from it), and i felt, at first, as if you ought not to make the denial; but, somehow, i'm very glad, now, and i shall always feel sure that if you _do_ make fun and pretend to laugh at a plan, you're all the time meaning to 'give it a lift,' as you say. and, oh! ned, i believe i'm one of the happiest boys in the world! and i'm sure uncle richard has changed a great deal since last spring, when you were here, for he's got over being cross and gloomy, and actually asked me yesterday where i spent so much of my time. i'm going, if i can, to persuade him to take a walk with me, one of these afternoons, and so bring him around to the new houses. wouldn't you like to be here to see us then? as for my school, it flourishes a little. there are still twelve scholars, and all but four have got through with their sand letters, and are at work at their 'a-b, ab,' and 'b-a, ba.' they'll get into spelling-books, sometime. now, i'll end this long letter with telling you once more that you can't know how much good your money has done and will do, and say, good-night, "noll trafford." noll did not lose sight for a moment of his plan to persuade uncle richard to take a walk with him. it filled his thoughts all the pleasant days that followed after mr. sampson's departure, and several times he hinted very broadly to his uncle that it was "a splendid afternoon for a walk! the beach is hard as a floor, and the tide out." but trafford was oblivious to all hints, and at last, on one warm, balmy, cloudless afternoon, noll thought, "it is now, or never! i'll ask him at once." and straightway he started for the library, where he knew his uncle sat reading. chapter xix. a happy walk. trafford looked up from his books as his nephew entered, and greeted him with a smile. noll thought this welcome portended good, and remembered, with a grateful thrill in his heart, that uncle richard had fallen into the habit of greeting him thus of late. he went up to the reader's chair, and without waiting for his courage to cool, laid a hand on the reader's arm, saying,-- "uncle richard, i've come to ask a great favor of you. do you think you'll grant it? can't you guess what it is?" trafford did not reply at once, but sat looking steadfastly into his nephew's face, his eyes wearing the dreamy, far-away look which lingered in them much of late, and it was not until noll had repeated his question that he replied, musingly,-- "i'm sure i cannot think. perhaps you wish more pocket-money, or--" "oh, no!" answered the boy, quickly, "it's nothing like that, uncle richard! it's--it's--oh, it's will you take a walk?" trafford's forehead began to wrinkle and slowly gather the shade of gloom which seemed always hovering about him, even in his most cheerful moments; but before it had time to cover the man's brow, and before he could utter a refusal, noll's hand was endeavoring to smooth away the wrinkles, and he was saying,-- "there, don't say 'no,'--don't, uncle richard! i won't ask you to go again if you are not pleased with this walk, but _this_ time--just _this_ once--do say 'yes,' uncle! there can't be a pleasanter afternoon in the whole year than this, and i've walked alone, always till now. why, uncle richard, you won't say 'no' _this_ time?" trafford hesitated, a refusal trembling on his lips, which he did not quite wish to utter. the boy _had_ walked alone, he remembered, and it was a very simple request to grant; and if it was going to be such a pleasure and gratification to noll, why not yield, and for once put aside his own preferences and inclinations? it is not an easy matter for a man who has lived only for himself and his own pleasure to put the gratification of these aside to give place to the happiness and comfort of another; but, with an effort, trafford put his books away, and rose from his chair, saying,-- "this once, noll,--this once. one walk with me will suffice you, i think. when shall we start?" "now,--at once, uncle richard!" said noll, joyfully; "it's two o'clock already, and the tide a long, long way out. don't let's wait a minute longer." trafford smiled a little at his nephew's eagerness, and taking his hat, followed the boy to the piazza. it was a great change from the half-gloom of the library, and the chilliness of the long, dark halls, to the bright, sunny piazza, where the light fell so warm and broadly, and from whence the blue and shining sea stretched far and wide and vast. noll felt sure that uncle richard must notice it and rejoice, even though it might be secretly. from east to west there were no clouds, and nothing to hinder the sunbeams from finding the earth and working wondrous charms on land and rock and sea. they stood for a few minutes there, one of them, at least, enjoying the wide view very much, then noll said,-- "we'll go up the shore, if you'd as lief, uncle richard. it's much pleasanter that way, i think." "very well," said trafford, with an indifference which was not encouraging, and they passed down the steps on to the sand. it was a silent and uncomfortable walk for the first few rods, trafford walking with his head bowed upon his breast and looking only at the yellow sand upon which he trod. he seemed to have no eyes for the calm and gentle peace which had descended upon that afternoon, robbing the sea of its terror and making it enchanting and lovely, and weaving a mystic charm about the bare, bald rock basking warm and purple under the sun. even the waves murmured only softly and soothingly and with drowsy echoes, as they rippled in and out among the rocks and along the sand. fortunately for their pleasure, noll picked up a curious pebble before they had gone a great way. it was not an agate, nor was it like the rounded pebbles of porphyry which the tide washed up, and puzzling over this, and asking uncle richard, at last, to explain its nature, somehow broke the heavy silence which had been between them, and questions and pleasant talk came naturally enough after this. trafford lost his gloom and reserve, and followed after his nephew, chatting and explaining strange matters of rock and sea, and stopping now and then to pull over great bunches of freshly-stranded kelp to help noll search for rare shells or bits of scarlet or purple weed which were hidden and entangled there. how brightly shone the sun! what peace and calm hovered over land and sea! he was just beginning to be conscious of the joy and loveliness which the afternoon held. it was no wonder, he thought, that noll's blithe, unclouded heart loved such a pleasant earth, and found delight in all the hours which flitted by. but for himself, alas! all this brightness was clouded over by the ever-present, ever-shadowing darkness of the future. it might have been different if--if--but with a sigh trafford put away these thoughts, and followed on. they lingered around the rocks in their path, black with fringes of dry sea-weed, and talked of gneiss and sienite, granite and trap; they stopped at the curve in the shore, and sat down to watch the white flitting of sails on the far horizon-line, and somehow, the sight of them led to a long talk about hastings and noll's papa, and happy memories of other days. trafford was in a softened mood as they rose up from their seat on a great fragment which had fallen from the cliff above, and noll said,-- "come, uncle richard, let's keep on toward culm. it's _so_ pleasant, and night is a long way off yet." if he had followed his own inclinations, the uncle would have turned about and retraced his steps, but noll had started on, and trafford followed, thinking, "it isn't often the boy has company in his rambles. i can humor him for once." slowly enough they approached the culm houses, loitering along the moist, shining sand, over which the waves had rolled and rippled but a few hours before, and marking their devious path with straying footprints. noll's heart began to beat somewhat faster as they neared the fishermen's houses, and he kept a keen watch upon his uncle's face in order to detect the first look of surprise and astonishment that should come across it when he perceived how the huts had been improved. but trafford's eyes were turned toward the sea, thoughtfully and gravely, and they drew very near the village without the discovery being made. they came upon dirk, hark darby, and two or three other fishermen, spreading their nets in the sun, all of whom touched their hats and nodded respectfully to noll, eying the uncle, meanwhile, with curious eyes and half-averted faces. the sight of these men brought trafford's eyes and thoughts back to culm and the present. he turned to noll, saying, with a little smile,-- "some of your sworn friends?" "yes, they're my friends, uncle richard," said noll, expecting every moment to see trafford raise his eyes to the houses, which they were passing, "and they do me a great many favors too." "in what way?" trafford was about to ask; but just then he looked up and about him, and the words died on his lips. noll paused, waiting in suspense for what was to come next. his uncle stood still, and looked for a full minute upon dirk's house, then cast his eyes up and down the line of dwellings, while a look of wonder and amazement came over his face. he turned about, and looked at noll, who could not, for the life of him, keep the bright color from creeping up into his cheeks and over his forehead, and then he looked at the houses again. a sudden suspicion came into trafford's mind, and turning his keen eyes upon noll, he exclaimed,-- "can you explain this?" the nephew hesitated, looked down in some embarrassment, then gathering sudden courage, looked up and answered, brightly, "yes, uncle richard, i know all about it." it was all plain to trafford then. for a moment his own eyes faltered and refused to meet noll's, and he showed some signs of emotion. but his voice and tone were as calm as ever when he said, a few minutes after,-- "_you_ did this? how can i believe it? what had you to do with? and why was i not consulted, if this was your work?" "oh, uncle richard!" said noll, quickly, "don't be vexed with me. you gave me permission to help these culm people. don't you remember?" trafford made no reply, and again looked at the line of comfortable, well-repaired houses. there were deeper thoughts and emotions in his heart at that moment than noll could know or guess. the long silence was so uncomfortable that the boy was fain to break it, with, "i've one more thing to show you, uncle richard. it's not much,--only just a beginning,--but i'd like you to see and know about it." trafford followed, without a word, and noll led the way to the little schoolroom, with its two benches and three-legged stool and pile of well-thumbed primers and spelling-books. "it's not much," said noll, apologetically, "but it's a beginning, and they all know their letters, and some can spell a little." trafford evinced no surprise, much to noll's wonder, and merely asked, "where do you find the time?" "after recitations," replied the nephew; and that was all that was said about the matter. trafford went out and sat down on the little wharf, and noll lingered in the doorway of his schoolroom, thinking that he had never seen uncle richard act more strangely. was he offended at what he had done and was doing for the culm people? he wondered. he looked out and saw that his uncle had turned his face away, and was looking off upon the sea with the same dreamy, thoughtful look which he had noticed in his eyes of late. noll would have given a great deal could he have known his thoughts at that moment. to human eyes this grave and thoughtful man, who sat on the wharf, was not a whit less the stern and gloomy creature that he had been an hour before. yet, all hidden from others' gaze, and almost from his own consciousness, a sudden sense of regret and of a great short-coming in himself had welled up through the crust of his hardened heart. his heart had been deeply stirred, and now it smote him. his thoughts took some such shape as this,--even while he was looking with such apparent calmness upon the changing, shadowy lights of the sea:-- "this boy has done more in this short summer for his fellow-men and for his god than i have done in my whole forty years of life! oh, what a life mine has been!--all a wreck, a failure, a miserable waste! and he? why, in this short summer-time, and on this barren rock, he has made his very life a blessing to every one upon it. i suppose those dirty, ignorant fishermen bless the day that brought him here. and i? o heaven! what a failure, what a failure! i've done the world no good,--it's no better for my having lived in it,--it would miss me no more than one of these useless pebbles which i cast into the sea. and this boy--_my_ boy--always at work to make others rejoice that he was born into the world!" for all the calmness and repose that was on his face, he longed to cry out. oh! was there no deliverance? might not these long wasted years yet be paid for by deeds of mercy and charity? but where was there a deliverer? and who could tell how many years of good deeds and charity could pay for forty years of wasted ones? chapter xx. new thoughts and new plans. noll, sitting in the doorway, was presently aroused from a little reverie into which he had fallen by hearing a voice call, "noll, my boy, come here." he obeyed the call, and started for the little wharf, half expecting that uncle richard was about to reprove him for what he had done. trafford gazed in his nephew's face for a short space, and then, smothering what his heart longed to cry out, and what he had intended to say to the boy, he sighed only, "we will start homeward, if you are ready." noll was sure that his uncle had kept back something which it was in his heart to say, and, wondering what it could be, he followed after the tall figure along the homeward path. the sun was getting well down into the west. the fair clearness of the sky was broken by a soft, mellow haze which began to steal across it, yet the afternoon was no less beautiful, and along the horizon there were long and lovely trails of misty color,--faint, delicate flushes of amber and purple,--which gave an added charm to the day's declining. not a word did uncle and nephew speak till, as they rounded the curve of the shore, and the stone house came in sight, trafford asked, abruptly, "noll, where did your pocket-money go?" the boy explained the whole matter, with an account of ned thorn's bounty and help, at the last, and then they paced along the sand in silence, as before. noll managed to get many looks at his uncle's face, and seeing that it wore no stern nor forbidding aspect, ventured to ask,-- "are you offended with me, or what, uncle richard?" trafford took his nephew's hand as he replied, "not in the least, noll." his voice was strangely kind and tender, and noll exclaimed, looking up joyfully and brightly, "i'm very glad, uncle richard! and do you know your voice sounded like papa's just now?" they walked hand in hand along the shore,--noll, at least, very happy,--and looking afar at the sea through glad and hopeful eyes. he mentally prayed that uncle richard's gloom and sternness might never return, and that he might always be in his present softened and subdued mood. they came to the stone house at last, and, as they reached the steps, noll took one long look at his uncle's face, thinking to himself that not soon again should he see it so gentle and tender, for the gloom of the library would soon shadow it, and make it once more stern and forbidding. but, just as if he felt something of this himself, trafford lingered on the steps, as if loath to go in, and at last sat down. noll inwardly rejoiced, and seated himself on the bit of green which he had caused to grow, by much watering and nourishing, close beside the piazza. that little breadth of grass, with its deep verdure, was a wonderfully pleasant thing for the eyes to rest upon in this waste of rock and sand. trafford looked down at it and at the boy sitting there,--his curly locks blown all about his face by the warm wind,--and thought to himself, that, wherever the lad went, brightness and pleasantness sprang up about him, even though the soil was naught but sand and barrenness. his heart was full of reproachful cries. "what this boy has done,--and _i_!" was a thought continually haunting him. and he did not try to put it away; but, as he sat there, went back over all the months of the lad's stay, remembering what he had done to brighten the old stone house and himself, and contrasting all the boy's actions and motives with his own,--sparing himself not at all in the condemnation which his own heart was ready to pronounce. "what this boy has done,--and _i_! i? nothing, nothing! the earth will never miss me, for i have had no part in its life, and have cared naught for its joys or its sorrows; and beyond--where this boy's heaven lies--there will be no place for me, because i have not sought it, and have cared only for my own peace. so i have no part nor place in the world or out of it." a more vivid sense of this truth came to trafford here, and he sighed long and heavily, thinking of what might have been. he saw and felt what a great matter it was to have a heart wherein god's love dwelt so steadfastly that eye nor ear could ever be closed against the wants of his creatures, and the work of his that lay waiting for the doing. and it was another matter to have a heart so cold and frozen that no warmth of his love ever thrilled it with pity or compassion,--ever drew it with tender, gentle guidance toward himself,--ever stirred it with longings for his love and his blessing and upholding. it was no wonder, he thought, that for one heart the earth was joyous and beautiful, while for the other it was but a gloomy, unhappy waste; for over the pure, warm heart's earth god reigned, and his sunshine lighted it, and his flowers blossomed by the wayside, and they who lived in the land were his own, and their needs the needs of his children. all doing was but doing for god, while in a cold, frozen heart his work is not remembered, and the sunshine is but gloom, because it does not come from him, and the flowers are not his, and the poor soul mourns and sorrows, wrapped up in its own darkness and chilliness, and fails to find the earth bright or beautiful. with such thoughts as these in his heart, trafford was silent a long time. the sun set, and shadows began to steal over the sea, gradually and softly wrapping its farther distances in hazy indistinctness. hagar's voice, from the kitchen-door, where she was calling her chickens to their supper, floated around to his ears and awoke him from his long and sorrowful reverie. he started up, surprised to see how fast the light had flitted from sky and earth. noll still sat on the bit of grass, busy over a heap of shells and pebbles, which he had gathered during his afternoon walk. trafford looked at him a few minutes in silence, and finally asked,-- "what plans have you made for winter about your school, my boy?" a sudden look of surprise flitted over the boy's face ere he answered, "i haven't made any, uncle richard. i can't, you see, because the days will be so short that i'm afraid there'll not be time after my recitations. and there's no stove nor fireplace in the room, and not much of anything comfortable. but i'm going to try, though," he added, hopefully. trafford was silent and thoughtful for a long time. at last he said, "what would you say if i forbade you to continue your school through the winter?" "i don't think you'll say that, uncle richard," said noll,--not very confidently, however. "i should be very sorry to give it up now." "even if i thought it best?" noll could not deny but that he should. "they're just beginning to learn," he said, "and it would be too bad for them to lose all they have gained. don't you really think so, too, uncle richard?" [illustration: culm rock.] trafford made no reply to this question, but, when he spoke again, said, "not even if another teacher filled your place, noll?" the boy's tongue was silent with wonder and astonishment. then, thinking his ears had deceived him, he said, "why--why--what did you say, uncle richard?" "i asked you," said trafford, "whether you would be willing to give up the school if another teacher took your place?" the warm, eager color rushed into noll's face, and he cried, "do you mean that--that--a teacher might take my place, uncle richard? do you really mean it? were you in earnest, and shall i answer?" "to be sure," said his uncle, gravely enough. "oh, uncle richard!" cried noll, "i _knew_ the time would come some day! i knew it! i knew it! and will you hire a teacher for those culm children? was that what you meant?" "i do not know that they need two," said trafford. "yes, i'll give up the school this minute!" said noll, remembering that he had not answered his uncle's question; "i'm willing to, if the children can only have a teacher. oh, but it seems too good to be true! and are you really going to hire some one to take my place?" "i have hardly thought yet; you must not press questions upon me too fast. i do not know my own mind." hagar heard their voices, and came around the piazza corner to say, "tea hab been waitin' fur ye dis yer whole hour, mas'r dick, an' 'tain't growin' better, nohow. will ye hab it wait any longer?" "no, we're coming, shortly," said trafford, and presently they went in to tea, for which noll had not the least appetite, in spite of his long walk,--it being quite driven away by the question which his uncle had put to him,--and he spent most of the meal-time in taking keen and watchful looks at uncle richard's face, to see when it began to cloud over with gloom and grow stern and moody again. but the shadow which he so much dreaded did not make its appearance, and from the supper-table they went to the library, where hagar had lit the lamp, noll feeling wonderfully happy and quite sure that this was the eve of a brighter day for uncle richard and the culm people. contrary to his usual habit, trafford did not take up his books on reaching the library, but sat looking thoughtfully at noll, and at last, as if speaking his thoughts aloud, he said,-- "if a new teacher comes, a new schoolroom will have to follow, as a matter of consequence; and those two rough benches which i saw over at culm are hardly the best style of school furniture. and how is it about books?" "there are none but primers and leaves from old spelling-books," said noll, sitting very still and quiet with delight at hearing uncle richard ask such questions. it all seemed like a dream, and not at all a matter of reality. what could have come across the man's feelings so suddenly and with such effect? trafford resumed his inquiries after a short silence, and little by little drew from his nephew the whole story of the school's commencement, and what drawbacks the lack of a good room, with seats and desks and the necessary books, were, till he had made himself acquainted with all the needs of the school. he talked with noll about the culm people, and listened to the boy's hopeful and enthusiastic account of their slight improvement, with something that was very like interest. but the school seemed to interest him most. he proposed that a teacher be sent for to take charge of the school during the winter, and that the best room which could be found among the houses be fitted up as a schoolroom, and as nicely and warmly as possible. the teacher and the furniture would have to come from hastings, and most likely a carpenter would be needed. noll thought of john sampson at once. so the evening passed away in planning and discussion, and when noll went to bed, it seemed as if all the events of the afternoon and evening were but phases of a happy dream, which morning light would banish as unreal. his thankfulness for this token of dawn, after the long, black, weary night of gloom through which he had struggled, could not find words enough in which to praise god for this promise of brighter days. he prayed that it might not be fleeting, and that morning might not show this gleam of brightness to be only imaginary. but the morrow came, and proved yesterday's events to be real and true, and uncle richard still without his stern and gloomy face, and ready to perfect the plans which they had discussed the previous evening. one day after another passed, till noll began to be certain that uncle richard's gloom and moroseness had departed from him forever. the boy wondered and surmised, but could not account for this sudden disappearance of the shadow. what had wrought the change so suddenly? would it last alway? true, uncle richard was not cheerful yet, and he seemed to be carrying some heavy grief or sorrow about with him; but from his face the grimness and gloominess were gone, and noll was sure that there must be some little change in his heart, else he would not care for the welfare of these culm children. a week or two elapsed before this new plan was put in operation, or rather before anything was done toward carrying it out. the skipper was hardly the person to intrust with the care of finding a teacher and looking up school-books, and for a time they were in doubt and perplexity. then noll proposed--what he had long been wishing--to go to hastings himself, and find such a teacher as was needed, procure the suitable books and furniture, and bring john sampson back with him. it would require but a week's absence, and in that time all the business could be done, and some happy days be spent with ned thorn and old friends. trafford hesitated a long time. who could tell what peril the boy might be in while crossing the sea? how could he lose him now? and, when once in the charmed circle of old friends and associations, would he not dislike to return to gray and barren culm rock? but noll went. chapter xxi. in peril of the sea. the day had dawned clear and brilliant, but as the afternoon waned, a gray curtain of ragged cloud slowly rose and hid the sun, and brought an early nightfall. the wind was strong, and the sea--calm and silvery but a few hours before--began to toss and thunder heavily. hagar came from the pine woods with a great basket of cones, just as the early dusk began to settle over the windy sea and to wrap the forest in heavy shadow, and as the old woman crossed the narrow bar of sand which connected culm rock with the main-land, the wind swept over in such strong gusts, and with such blinding sheets of spray, that her safety was more than once endangered. but she reached the firm, unyielding rock, with no worse misfortune than a drenching befalling her, and made her way to the warm and comfortable precincts of her kitchen, with many ejaculations of delight and thankfulness. the first sound which greeted her ears on entering was the long-drawn, solemn voice of the organ. "wonder what mas'r dick's got on his heart dis yer night?" she muttered, bustling about to prepare supper; "'tain't sech music as dat yer organ make lately. 'pears like somethin' was de matter, anyhow." she prepared supper in the dining-room, muttering to herself about the lonesomeness and silence of the house since "mas'r noll dun gone off;" and when the solitary meal was in readiness, put her head in at the library-door and called her master to tea. when she had got back to her kitchen, and was standing in the open door, her grizzled head thrust out into the gathering gloom and tempest to watch the progress of the storm, she noticed that the music did not cease, but kept on in its slow and solemn measure, rising and falling and stealing plaintively in. "something's de matter, sure," hagar said, turning about and shutting the door; "dat ain't de kind of music dat mas'r dick's made lately. 'pears like he's 'stressed 'bout somethin'! but, hagar, ye can't do nuffin but jes' trust de lord, nohow. ye'd better get yer own supper, ef yer mas'r dick don't tech his." she ate her supper and washed the dishes, and gave the little kitchen a stroke or two with her broom, and yet the music from the library came stealing in as sad-voiced and heavy as ever. "'pears as if he'd never eat his supper," hagar grumbled; "de chile can't live on music, allers, nohow. reckon he'll nebber hab much sperits till he eats more. but jes' stop yer talkin', chile, ye can't do nuffin' but trust de lord." by and by the wandering notes ceased, and in the deep silence there came up the hoarse and awful roar of the surf, with the wailing of the wind over the chimney, and filled the house with their echoes. hagar heaped wood on the fire, drew her little low chair nearer the light and gladsome blaze, shivering and muttering as she did so. she had a great dread of cold and darkness, and the deep hush, broken by the clamor of the sea, made her afraid. "de lord's about," said she, drawing her old woollen shawl close around her; "de lord's on de sea, an' 'pears like nobody need be feared when he holds it in his hand like as i holds dis yer silber ob mas'r noll's dat he lost under de rug in de dinin'-room,"--looking down at the shining coin which she had picked up that morning, and wondering where the boy was at that moment. "'pears as ef de sunshine had been hid de whole time sence he went off to de city," she muttered, gazing in the coals. "wonder ef mas'r dick misses him? wonder ef dis yer ole woman won't be tickled 'nuff to see him when de day comes? ki! hagar, ye knows ye will." the roar of the sea and the cry of the wind came in again, more lonesome, sadder than ever. the old negress shivered, peered about her into the dark corners of the kitchen, and crooned to herself,--a wild, monotonous air, set to words which came to her lips for the occasion:-- "oh, hagar, don't ye know de lord's on de sea? he rides on de waves, and de wind is in his hand,-- de lord keeps dem all! what ye feared of, hagar? kase, don't ye know de lord's in it? 'pears like ye done forget dat de whole time--now!" and she broke into her rhymeless chant again. it was only a way she had got of setting her thoughts to music, drawing the words out very slowly, and weaving to and fro the while. when she had repeated her first lines, she kept on with her thoughts, peering over her shoulder at the flickering shadows which the fire cast on the wall behind her, shivering with awe at the clamor without, and chanting, waveringly,-- "oh, hagar, don't ye know de lord's on de sea? de wind blows, an' de sky is dark, an' de sea _cries like a little chile_, an' de boats will be blowed away; but de lord is good, an' mornin' will come, an', oh, hagar, sing hallelujah! fur de lord is in it all!" here she stopped her chanting, and began to sing "hallelujah!" softly, ceasing her swaying, to look into the coals. the fire burned down to rosy embers, in which little blue-tongued flames darted up fitfully,--anon lighting up the room brilliantly, then dying away and leaving it almost in darkness,--while hagar's crooning died away to a whisper. a little gray light still shone in at the kitchen-window, but it was fast flitting. the roar of the sea became thunder, the wind grew tempestuous. by and by the rain began to fall, sounding strangely soft and still, when compared with the din of wind and waves. "god bress us!" said hagar, "dis yer is an awful night. keep de boats off de rock, lord, and pity de sailors in dis yer awful storm!" the old woman knew how the sea must look now,--yeasty, horrible, its white wave-caps shining through the darkness and hurrying to topple over and thunder against the rocks. to her, as she sat crouched before the fire, it seemed to howl and scream and mourn hoarsely, like some great voice rending the night with lamentation. "call on de lord, hagar," she muttered frequently; "can't nuffin else help ye now!" sometimes she fell to chanting her thoughts,--the sound of her own voice was pleasant to her in the loneliness,--and she piled cedar chips on the fire to see their cheerful blaze and enjoy their brisk crackle. "might as well hab a candle," she said, after a time. "git yer knittin', chile, an' 'pear as ef ye didn't distrus' de lord. what ef de wind is blowin'? what ef de sea is a-screamin'? don't ye know whose wind and whose sea 'tis?" she got up to grope for a candle on the shelf over the fireplace. "hagar!" exclaimed a voice at the farther end of the kitchen,--a voice so full of compressed fear and anxiety that the old negress tumbled back in her chair with affright,--"hagar! are you here?" demanded the voice. "bress ye! yes, i's here, mas'r dick!" she answered, catching sight of his white face by the dining-room door. "i's here, but ye spoke so suddent! jes' wait, an' i'll hab a candle in a minnit." the candle was found, and, after a long blowing of coals and burning of splinters, began to burn dimly. hagar set it on the table, and looked up at her master with a start of alarm, his face was so white and anxious. "hagar," said he, huskily, "_noll was to start from hastings this morning!_" the old negress stood looking at him a full minute,--a fearful, lonesome minute in which the rain beat against the panes, and the awful voice of the sea filled the room,--then she sank down by the fire with a low cry. "lord bress us all!" she wailed, as she looked up, "fur he'll nebber get here, mas'r dick!" trafford looked at her silently. oh, that awful voice without!--the thunder, the tremble of the earth, the screaming of the wind! at last,-- "is ye certain sure, mas'r dick? d'ye _know_ he started? did he say?" "oh, hagar, if i did not--_not know_,--if i had any doubt that he started, i would give all my possessions this very moment!" "'tain't de money nor de lands dat'll do now!" moaned hagar, beginning to sway back and forth; "it's only de lord! de lord's on de sea to-night, an' 'tain't fur man to say! oh, mas'r dick! t'ink o' dat bressed boy in dese waves an' dis wind!" "hush!" said the master, imperatively, "i will _not_ think of it! it can't be! noll? oh, hagar, i believe i'm going mad!" he turned away from the old negress and opened the door. the tempest swept in, overturning the candle and flaring up the fire, and bearing the rain, in one long gust, across the little kitchen, even into hagar's face. trafford stood there, regardless of wind and rain, looking out upon the sea. the mighty tumult awed him and filled his heart with a sense of man's utter weakness and helplessness. the foamy expanse gleamed whitely through the night,--awful with the terror of death,--and its deafening roar smote upon his ears, and in the slightest lull, the rain-drops fell with a soft, dull patter. noll in it all?--in this fearful, yawning sea,--in this wild tumult of wind and rain,--in the vast waste of waves which the thick darkness shrouded, and where death was riding? "god help me!" he cried in sudden frenzy,--"god help me!" he looked up at the thick, black depths of sky with a groan of agony when he remembered his utter powerlessness. but what right had he to look to heaven for aid?--he who knew not god, nor sought him, nor desired his love? the bitterness of this thought made him groan and beat his breast. would he--whom all his life long he had refused and rejected--hear his cries? hagar's voice came to him here through all the din and thunder, beseeching that the door might be closed. he closed it behind him, and stepped out into the darkness. it was already past the hour for the "gull" to arrive, he remembered, and then a sudden thought flashed through his brain that beacons ought to be kindled to guide the skipper, if he were not already beyond the need of earthly guides and beacons. and close upon this thought came a remembrance of the culm fishermen,--stout, skilful sailors, all of them,--and a great hope filled his heart that in them he might find aid in his extremity. and without waiting for a second thought, he started through the inky darkness and the tempest for culm village. he ran till he was breathless. he climbed and groped his way over and along the slippery rocks, the awful voice of the sea filling his ears and goading him on. chapter xxii. weary watching. the evening wore on. they were all on the beach,--trafford and the culm fishermen,--and now a beacon fire streamed up into the darkness, and made the night seem even more black and intense. they had piled their heap of driftwood somewhat in the shelter of a great rock, and around it the men were huddled, muttering and whispering to each other, and casting sober glances at trafford, who stood apart from them in the shadow. not a word had he spoken since the fire was kindled, but, grim and silent as a statue, had stood there, with his eyes looking upon the gleaming sea, and the rain beating in his face. he had worked desperately while gathering driftwood. "the master be crazed, like," dirk had whispered to the men as they came in with armfuls of fuel. "d'ye see his eyes? d'ye see the way he be runnin' up an' down, poor man?" "ay, an' his lad be where many o' your'n an' mine ha' been, eh, dirk?" said hark harby. "mabby he ken tell what 'tis ter be losin' his own, an' no help fur it, eh?" "sh!" said dirk; "the sea ben't able ter get sech a lad as his every day. if he be lost, 'tis a losin' fur more'n he, yender." this was before the beacon was kindled. now they huddled in a gloomy circle about the hissing, sputtering fire, some crouching close to the rock to save themselves from the rain, and the others drawing their heads down into their wide-collared jackets, that bade defiance to the wet. the wind whirled and raved, and the sea thundered on. the fire cast a little pathway of light through the darkness, down to the sea's edge, and they could see its waves all beaten to foam as white as milk, flecking the sand in great patches. it was an awful waiting. by and by hagar came down along the sand in a great hood-cloak that gave her a most weird and witchlike appearance. the fishermen looked at her with startled, suspicious eyes as the bent old figure suddenly emerged from the darkness into the full glare of the firelight. the old negress passed on to where trafford was standing. "i's here, mas'r dick," she said, touching his arm, as if fain to assure him of her presence and sympathy. he did not repel her, but said, with much of kindness in his tone, "this is no place for you, hagar." "de lord's here," said hagar, quietly, "an' i's gwine ter stay. i isn't feared, mas'r dick." trafford looked in her wrinkled, time-worn old face yearningly. this black, ignorant old woman had something within her heart that gave her a peace and serenity in this fearful hour that he envied. he felt the truth of this as he had never felt it before. she was stayed and upheld by some invisible hand. somehow, in her humble life, this old negress had found some great truth which all his own study and research had failed to teach him. he turned about and made her a seat of boards on an old spar which lay on the sand, under the shelter of the rock by the fire. "t'ank ye, mas'r dick," said hagar, tremulously, as she sat down. this unusual kindness touched her. it was like his old-time thoughtfulness and gentleness, when he was her own blithe, merry schoolboy, she thought. the rain began to fall less heavily. only now and then a great drop fell with a hiss and sputter into the fire; but the wind grew fiercer as the evening waned, and the thunder and pounding of the sea was deafening. the spray dashed higher and higher, quite up to the backs of the men who huddled about the fire, and its fine mist sifted even into hagar's face and grizzled locks. "'tain't nuffin tu what dat bressed boy is suff'rin'," she sighed, wiping the cold drops off her cheeks; "'pears as ef dis ole heart 'ud split'n two, thinkin' ob it. o good lord, bress de chile!--bress him,--bress him!--dat's all hagar ken say." it was a weary watching. as the war of the sea grew louder and the wind fiercer, the culm fishermen gathered into a yet closer group, and looked with awed and sober faces in the fire. for all that these men followed the sea, and it was almost a native element to them, they seemed to have a great dread and awe of it. trafford yet stood apart from them with his eyes looking into the dense night, and hagar, all muffled in her great cloak, swayed slowly to and fro with her face hidden. oh, the suspense and agony of those minutes!--the weary watching and waiting for--what? it came at last. in the short space of silence between the bursting of two great waves, there rose a cry from out the great waste of darkness beyond their little length and breadth of light. trafford started and sprang forward. the men around the fire were startled from their crouching positions by this shrill, sudden shout, and looked in one another's faces and--waited. but the cry was not repeated. then dirk said,-- "it wur the skipper, sure. o lord, men! but i be feared the 'gull' be on the rocks, yender." the sweat stood in drops on his forehead, and he slowly clinched and unclinched his great brawny hands. trafford heard his words, and a sudden faintness like death smote him. but it passed away, and in sudden frenzy and despair he rushed up to dirk, exclaiming,-- "how do you know, man? how can you tell? there was only a cry!" before dirk could answer, there rose, clear and distinct, that one solitary voice from out the darkness,--a fearful, appealing cry for aid from some human heart out there in the awful presence of death. and that thrilling cry was all. it never came again. trafford beat his breast with agony. then he turned upon the fishermen. "why do you stand here," he cried, furiously, "when they are perishing out there? my boy is there!--my boy that's done so much for you and yours! will you let him drown without lifting a hand to save him?" "it be no use to try," said the men, pointing to the surf; "boat's ud crack like a gull's shell out there." "but try,--only try!" shouted trafford, in an agonized tone. "if money will tempt you, you shall have all of mine! you shall have more than ever your eyes saw before! i will make you all rich!--only try,--only try!" "we'd try soon enough for the young master's sake, an' ye might keep yer gold," said dirk; "but it wud be no use, an' only losin' of life. the lad be beyont our help or yer gold, either." "'tain't de money nor de lands dat'll do, now," moaned hagar; "it's only de lord!" "but think of it, you ungrateful wretches!" cried trafford, frantically,--"the lad has done more for you and yours than you can ever repay! he went across the sea this time to do you good, and it's for your sakes that he's out in the peril yonder! will you let him drown without even an attempt to save him? will you?" dirk shook his head. "it be no use," he said, "but we ken try. i be not one to hev it said that i be unthankful. here, lads, give us a hand! ef i'll be riskin' my life fur any one, 'tis fur the lad yender." they dragged a boat down to the curling line of foam, and watching for a favorable opportunity, launched it. trafford sprang in with them, and they pushed into the darkness. it seemed hardly three minutes to those who stood around the fire, before a great wave came riding in and threw the boat and its load upon the sand. dirk sprang up and seized trafford before the returning flood had engulfed him. he pointed to the rent ribs of the boat, saying, as he shook himself,-- "it be as i told ye. yer lad be beyont yer gold or yer help." they made no more attempts. trafford gave up the idea of a rescue, and paced up and down the sand in the very face of the surf that drenched him at every tumble. utterly helpless! the cold, cruel sea mocked his despair and frenzy. it was great and mighty, and even now was swallowing his treasure, he thought, which lay almost within his power to save. so near!--and yet death between! the thought made him half wild with despair and horror. yet there was no help,--nowhere to turn for aid or succor,--not the faintest hope of saving the boy's life. the sea must swallow him. the fishermen looked askance at the wild, desperate figure that rushed up and down the sand as if it sought to burst through the sea and save its treasure, and whispered gloomily among themselves. suddenly the man wheeled about and came up to the fire, crying, fiercely,-- "hagar, you have a god! i cannot find him. pray to him,--pray to him! quick, woman!--pray to him before it's too late!" "lord help ye, mas'r dick!" said hagar, "i's jes' prayin' fur de dear chile ebery minnit! don't ye know it? but de lord's out thar!"--pointing with her skinny finger to the depths of darkness which shrouded the sea, with such vehemence as to startle the fishermen; "he's wid dat boy, and thar can't nuffin kill his soul. it's only goin' to glory quicker'n de rest ob us. don't ye know it, mas'r dick?--can't ye feel it? what's de winds or de waves, so long as de lord's got ye in his arms, holdin' ye up?--as he's got dat boy ob your'n. oh, mas'r dick! jes' humble yerself 'fore de lord, right off. what's de use ob stribin' to fight him?--what's de use? 'tain't no use!--ye knows it dis minnit!--ye knows it all ober! call on de lord yerself, mas'r dick!--call on de lord 'fore it's too late!" "i cannot, i cannot!" groaned trafford, dropping down on the sand by his old nurse; "i don't know him, and he will not hear me. oh, my boy, my boy!" he gave up then. hagar knew by the way he sank back upon the sand, all the wildness and fierceness gone out of his face, and the crushed, broken-hearted manner in which his head drooped, that he had given up the boy. she gathered his head on her knee, as she had often done when he was a youth, and stroked it tenderly, saying, as her tears dropped,-- "poor chile, poor honey! hagar's sorry fur ye. it's a dreadful t'ing not ter know de lord; ain't it, chile? can't do nuffin widout him, somehow. but hagar hopes ye'll find him; she hopes ye'll find him dis berry night. 'pears like he ain't fur off dis awful night; an', o lord jesus!"--folding her hands reverently, and looking toward the sea as if she saw her redeemer walking there,--"come an' bress dis poor broken heart dat can't find ye. it's jes' waitin' fur de bressin', an' 'pears like 'twould faint ter def ef ye didn't come. come, lord, come." the night wore slowly on. the "gull" began to break in pieces and float ashore. the fishermen had enough to do to snatch the boxes and bales which the sea hurled up. as yet, none of the "gull's" more precious freight of life had made its way through the sea to the shore. dirk was watching keenly for it. a half-dozen draggled, fearful women had stolen down from their houses, and were standing by the fire, whispering and talking in undertones, with many glances of pity at the figure lying prone on the sand with its head in the old black woman's lap. "alack!" said dirk, with a great sigh, "it wur a fine lad. i never knowed kinder nor better. ye ken all say that, women, an' this be the sorriest night i ever knowed, 'cept when my little gal died. he wur good to my little gal, the lad wur, an' he giv' me a bit o' flower to put on the sand where she be sleepin', an' it growed an' growed an' blossomed, an' the blossom wur like a great blue eye,--like my little gal's eye,--an' many's the night after fishin' i've gone up ter the buryin'-place ter look at it. an' now the lad himself be gone," said dirk, wiping his eyes and snuffling. "ay, it be a heavy night!" moaned the women, wiping their eyes with the corners of their aprons. a great heap of bales and boxes and bits of the "gull's" timbers was accumulating on the sand by the fire. the women sat down on them, keeping up their low talk and whispers, and watching the two silent figures the other side of the fire. the man moved not a muscle. the old negress bent over him, stroking his forehead and whispering and crooning. only once he had said, chokingly, "my noll!--all that was left to me," and now lay passive and unheeding, overwhelmed and crushed by the sense of his loss and the consciousness that the sea had quenched the brave, bright life forever. chapter xxiii. waiting. the long, long, weary night gave way to a gray and gloomy dawn. the tempest had not abated, and the sea thundered as furiously as ever. the wet and shivering women had gone back to their houses and their little ones; and as the cold, steely light of the coming day began to whiten in the east, hagar made her way back to her kitchen, where she kindled a fire to warm her numb limbs. never more, she thought,--rocking to and fro before the pleasant blaze,--could the old house be bright or cheerful. the sea had quenched its life and its joy, and never again would the merry voice echo in the great rooms, or the quick, eager steps sound along the hall and in at her kitchen-door. "o good, bressed lord!" moaned she, "bress yer poor chil'en dat's lef' behind! 'pears like dey was jes' ready ter fall down an' faint ter def ef ye didn't hold 'em up. o lord, keep hagar up, an' 'vent her from 'strustin' ye! bress us, lord, fur we ain't nuffin dis yer time. ye's all we hab ter hold on ter." meanwhile, trafford and the fishermen lingered on the shore, waiting for the sea to give up its dead. the east grew whiter, and light broke dimly over the waste of waves, and faintly showed them where the "gull" had struck. there was not much left of the little craft,--only a few timbers and the taper point of a mast, wedged in between some outlying rocks, which the sea thundered over. it was a dreary sight,--the vast, immeasurable waste lashed into foam, and dimly discerned through the gray gleaming of the dawn, with the bit of wreck swaying in the wares, where those lives had gone out in the awful thunder and darkness; but trafford gazed upon it with a calm face. groans and lamentation could not express the agony which rent his heart, and he walked up and down the drenched sand with a calm, white face that awed dirk whenever he looked upon it. "it be a heavier stroke for the master an' we ken tell, lads," he said to his comrades, as they kept keen lookout for the poor bodies which the sea still kept. "ay, there be a heart within him like the rest of us," said one of the fishermen, looking at trafford as he kept his watchful vigil; "an' he be only losin' what we hev lost afore." "but the lad wur not like ours," said dirk, pityingly, "an' it wur a finer lad an' ever i see afore." so they talked as they watched and waited, and the light grew, and somewhere behind the lowering banks of clouds in the east the sun had risen, and all the land and sea lay cold and warmthless and forlorn. trafford relinquished not his keen search for a moment, fearful lest the waves should cast his lost treasure at his feet and snatch it back before he could grasp it. the dear face might be bruised and battered by the cruel, remorseless sea, and the eyes could never beam upon him with any light of love or recognition, he thought; yet find it and look upon it he must, even though the sight agonized him. so he watched and waited, with his tearless eyes roaming along the line of foam. an hour fled. the sea relented, and gave up one poor form into the fishermen's hands. trafford walked calmly out to where the men were bending over it with pale, awed faces, and saw that it was not noll. he shivered, looking at the skipper's stalwart figure, and wondered whether, if the sailor but had the power of speech, he might not tell him something of his boy,--whether he met death's dark face calmly and fearlessly, and whether he sent a message to those whom he saw on the shore and could not call to. this thought gave him fresh anguish. if noll had sent him a farewell,--a last message,--oh, what would he not give to hear it? but, if that were really the case, it had died with those to whom it was intrusted. the sea would never whisper it,--the dead could not. he went back to his lonely pacing. another long, long hour passed. the bit of wreck that was jammed between the rocks went to pieces and came ashore. ben's mate came with it, but no noll. the men began to straggle homeward, weary and worn with the night's vigil, till only dirk and hark darby were left to keep the stricken master of the stone house company. oh, such a weary waiting it was!--the ceaseless pouring of the waves upon the sand filling their ears with clamor, and the fearful tide bringing them not the treasure which they sought. would the sea never give it up? was the dear form caught and held by the entangling arms of some purple weed in the sea depths? or was it cradled in the calm, unruffled quiet of some crevice of the rocks? "oh, cruel, cruel sea!" he cried to himself, "to rob me of my boy, and refuse to give back the poor boon of his body." it never came. the morning wore on to noon, the noon to night, and still the lonely watcher paced up and down. toward night the tempest abated, and the turmoil of the sea subsided somewhat. the gray clouds broke and let through a slant mist of yellow sunshine as the sun departed, and the storm was over. its work was done; and as the clouds fled in ragged squadrons, the calm, untroubled stars shone out over the sea, and mocked, with their deep, unutterable peace, the aching, wretched heart of him who still kept up his lonely pacing. trafford's eyes suddenly caught sight of their silvery glitter, and he stopped, looking up at them, while the sudden thought flashed through his mind, "is my boy up there? beyond those shining worlds, in that happy heaven which he trusted in?" the thought held him silent and motionless. it had not entered his heart before. he had been searching for the lad upon this dreary, sea-beaten shore, without a thought of anything beyond. was he really standing upon a heavenly shore, where no waves beat nor tempest raved, and, perhaps, looking down upon his own lonely vigil? there was something in this thought which brought a great calm upon his heart. true, the boy was no less dead nor separated from him; the merry voice was no less hushed to him for all his life and journeying, and the echo of his footsteps might never float down from heavenly paths to gladden his ears; yet, though he realized this, there was a wonderful peace and joy in thinking of the lad as happy and joyous in a sphere where nothing would ever blight his happiness; where he had found those who bore him a great love and had been long waiting for his coming. trafford sat down on the great pile of broken timbers, and once more looked upward at the stars. pure and unwavering their gentle eyes looked down at him. and then peaceful as an angel's whisper, came the remembered words of one who was an angel too: "oh, richard! don't fail--don't fail to find him and cling to him, and come up,--come up too." why, oh, why, of all times, did this gentle breathing come to him here? it seemed to trafford as if his wife's lips had whispered it close to his ear, and he bowed his head upon his breast, while his breath came quick and fast, and bitter tears of grief stood in his eyes. had god taken his treasures, one after another, and placed them in that heaven which they all looked forward to, that his own wayward, straying heart might be drawn thither? was this last loss meant to be the great affliction which, through love, should turn his heart toward god and his kingdom? he could not tell; his heart was strangely stirred and melted within him. it seemed to him as if that angel whisper had driven the great burden of despair and agony out of his heart by its gentle breathing, and left it broken and sorrowful, yet not without peace and hope. he looked up at the stars and thought of noll, and wept. they were not tears of agony, and he did not rave and groan. a slow step came along the sand, turning hither and thither, as if in quest of some one. it drew near trafford, at last, and a tremulous old voice said,-- "is dis ye, mas'r dick? hagar's glad 'nough ter find ye, anyhow. 'pears like she couldn't stay up ter de house, nohow,--'twas so lonesome." "yes, i know, hagar," said the man, without raising his head. the twilight was so thick that the old negress could not see the speaker's face, but a certain tremble and softness of his voice did not escape her notice. "have ye foun' de lord, mas'r dick?" she asked, quickly. "i know not what i have found," trafford answered, while his tears fell; "but if i might find his face, and know that it smiled upon me, i should care for little else." "now praise de lord!" said hagar, fervently; "dat's more'n ye ever felt afore. thar's help fur ye, mas'r dick, an' 'tain't fur off!" "too far for me to find it!" said trafford; "he does not smile upon those who have rejected him." "oh, chile!" said hagar, in a shocked tone; "don't ye know de lord's all mercy an' lubbin' kin'ness? don't ye know he won't 'spise an' hate ye jes' as ef he was like a man? oh, honey! hagar's feared ter hear ye talk like dat. 'pears as ef ye made de lord jes' like poor, eble, good-fur-nuffin man." trafford made no reply. a sudden darkness seemed shutting down upon him. it was as if a great golden gleam had fallen out of heaven upon him, warming and softening his heart, and when he turned with tears and joy to look along its pathway heavenward, it vanished and left him groping in confusion and dismay. he got up from off his seat, saying, mournfully,-- "the brightness is all gone from me! i'm in doubt and fear. oh, how can i ever find his face?--and how can he ever smile upon me who have rejected him?" hagar sighed heavily as she said, "ye don't 'preciate de lord, chile. ye talks jes' as ef he was a man, an' could feel 'vengeful towards ye! don't s'pose any _man_ could forgive ye, honey, but de bressed lord is all lub,--hagar knows _dat_,--an' jesus died jes' as much fur ye as he did fur anybody. ye's got to look to dat bressed lord jesus, an' ef ye looks hard 'nough, ye'll find him. oh, hagar t'anks de lord frum de bottom ob her heart fur yer feelin' so to-night." "but i have not found him! he is hidden from me!" said trafford. "but ye will ef ye looks long enough!" said hagar, cheerfully; "he'll come out ob de darkness to ye: bimeby. bress ye, chile, dis ole woman was lookin' an' seekin' an' stribin' in mis'ry till she was 'bout ready to give up in 'spair; but i foun' him at las', an' he nebber 'sook hagar,--nebber!" the sea was growing calmer with every hour that passed. but it was rough and thunderous still, and its wave-crests gleamed whitely under the starlight. trafford at last remembered the lateness of the hour, and said, "come, hagar, this is no place for us. we will go in." the two slowly made their way along the shore up to the dark and deserted stone house. hagar smothered the sigh that rose up from her heart as the silence and loneliness smote upon it, and led the way around to her kitchen-door. "poor chile! ye habn't had nuffin to eat dis day," said she, after they were once within her little dominion and she had kindled the fire; "go into de libr'y, honey, an' i'll hab ye sumfin' purty quick." but trafford shook his head, saying, "not there!--not there, yet!" and sat down on the bench by the fire. hagar moved wearily about from the cupboard to the table, saying to herself,-- "what ye t'inkin' ob, hagar, to tell him dat? dar's all poor mas'r noll's books an' t'ings lyin' 'bout eberywhar, an' how ken de poor chile stan' it? de lord's han' is heaby upon him, an', o good lord jesus, jes' come an' bress de poor chile an' sabe him!" chapter xxiv. days of calm. he found it at last,--the peace which comes after a long, weary, despairing struggle. but it was not easily won. it seemed to trafford as if god had hidden himself in a thick, awful darkness, through which not the faintest ray of light or hope could glimmer upon his heavy, despairing heart. he sought for him as one who, feeling himself in the grasp of death, would seek for life. he had long rejected him and put him away; now, in his hour of anguish and extremity, his face and his peace were hard to find. never had such utter silence reigned in the stone house since its occupancy as reigned there now. hagar kept mostly within her own province, and trafford sat day after day in the dining-room, hardly stirring from thence. he had not entered the library since the night of the shipwreck, neither had hagar stepped within the room, where all noll's books and shells and treasures gathered from the sea lay, and where everything hinted of the sunny, joyous life which once had made the great room cheerful. neither looked within, as if they dreaded to recall the dear and pleasant vision of the curly-haired boy who had lived and studied there. these were the days in which trafford groped in darkness and despondency. hagar set the table by his side, and brought him his meals, and carried away the untasted viands, with much sighing and regret, but, nevertheless, with joy in her heart. "'pears as ef 'twas a drefful t'ing fur de poor chile ter be suff'rin' so," she would sigh to herself as she watched his worn and heavy face on her passages through the room; "but hagar's t'ankful 'nough to see it, 'cause de poor chile'll find de lord bimeby. bress de lord! mas'r dick'll find him some time!" a long and weary week passed away. without, the world had never been fairer, nor the sea lovelier. no storms lashed it, and the great world of waves glittered calm and untroubled under the sun, with no hint of death or woe in its purple evening lights or its bright morning gleams. then, after this long seeking, a faint hope began to dawn in trafford's heart. he did not dare to give it heed or trust at first,--he who had been in despair so long,--and when, at last, he began to put forth feeble, trembling anticipations of the peace and joy which might come when god's smile and forgiveness shone upon him, this little ray of hope broadened and grew warmer and brighter, and he began to look up out of his depths of anguish. it was long coming,--it seemed at times to be utterly unattainable,--it was sometimes almost within his heart, and then it fled from him; but at last it came, and abode with him,--this peace which a poor, wandering soul feels after it has found its lord. then he was at rest. he came out into hagar's kitchen one sunshiny afternoon, and, in answer to the old negress' look of wonder and surprise at seeing him there, said, with a grave joy thrilling his words,-- "hagar, i have found him; and i do not think that his peace will ever leave me, or that my heart will ever forget him." hagar got up off the bench where she was sitting, and came slowly forward, saying, brokenly, "bress de lord, bress de lord! dat's all hagar ken say. oh, chile, ef ye knew how dis ole heart felt ter hear ye say dem words! ef ye only c'u'd know! but ye nebber will till dis ole woman gits such a tongue as de lord'll gib her when she gets ter heaben. den hagar ken tell ye!" she followed him to the door, and sat down there in the sunshine, softly blessing him again and again as she watched him follow the thread of a path which led around to the piazza. trafford paused here, on the smooth sand by the piazza-steps, and looked out upon the sea. it was like a new sea, and the very earth seemed not as of old, for now god reigned over them, and it was his sunshine which fell so brightly and broadly everywhere, and his smile and the knowledge of his forgiveness which filled his heart with such utter peace and tranquillity. this great joy and calm held him quiet for a little space, and, when he turned about, his eyes fell upon the little breadth of grass waving there by the step. one or two gay, crimson asters nodded in the warm wind, planted there by the same hand that watered and cared for the bit of turf. trafford sat down by them, stroking the turf's green blades, and gazing at the warm-hued flowers through tears. "gone--gone," they seemed to whisper as they softly rustled. somehow these tender, soulless things brought up the boy's memory most vividly. he remembered how noll sat on the same bit of turf only those two short weeks ago with the warm wind blowing his curly locks about his eyes while he looked off upon the sea. who thought of danger or death then? who thought of death lying in wait in that calm, shadowy sea? trafford's tears fell thick and fast upon the green blades, thinking of the lad. did ever the sea quench a fairer, brighter life? he wondered,--a life fuller of rich and generous promise? yet, only two short weeks ago,--short, in reality, but slow and long in passing,--the boy had sat upon this little breadth of verdure full of life and spirits and happiness. "ah!" sighed he, "i knew not a treasure i possessed till it passed from me. now that i have lost it, i see what a blissful life i might have made for myself and it. god forgive me! but i was harsh and cruel to the boy. i made his life darker and less joyous than it ought to have been." he sat here for a long time, till once more his face was calm and undisturbed. sometime, he thought, he might meet the boy face to face, and tell him all that his heart longed to unburden itself of. he rose up, at last, and went slowly in, pausing at the library-door. after a few seconds of indecision, he opened it, and went softly in. the room was cold and chilly from its long unoccupancy; but through one of the high windows, and along the floor, streamed a broad bar of cheerful sunlight. it fell right across noll's study-table and the chair which he was wont to occupy. trafford moved forward, sat down in the chair, and looked about him with misty eyes. traces of the boy's presence everywhere! the familiar school-books, open to the last lessons which trafford had heard him recite; bits of paper, with sums and solutions traced thereon; copies of the fine and feathery sea-moss, which it was the boy's delight to gather, with odd pebbles and shells, met his gaze on either hand. he took up a scrap of paper from among the rest, and found something thereon which the boy had written, evidently in an idle moment. trafford, however, read it not without emotion. it merely said:-- "_wednes., aug. ._--this is a long, gray, rainy day, and i have not stirred out of the house. i am at this moment (or ought to be) studying my latin lesson. uncle richard has not spoken a word to me since breakfast. i wish i knew what made him look so grim and sober to-day, and i _do_ wish he would speak to me. when the fog lifted just now, i fancied i saw a ship on the horizon, bound for hastings, i suppose. oh, but i--" here the slight record was broken off. perhaps the boy had gone back to his latin, or perhaps the passing ship had taken his thoughts along with it to hastings, and thus left the half-commenced exclamation unfinished. trafford read and reread the little bit of paper, and folded it carefully, and put it away with the precious letter which the boy's father had written on his dying-bed. then he began to gather up noll's books, thinking to put them out of his sight, but stopped before he had taken the third in his hand. why hide them? why shut them up in darkness, as if some evil, dreaded memory were connected with the sight of them? had not everything about the boy and his life been bright and pleasant to think of? he put the books back in their places, saying to himself, "they shall stay where they are. hagar shall not move them, and i will have them before my eyes alway, just as his dear hands left them? why should i try to hide aught that his blessed memory lingers around?" so he left everything just as noll's hands had placed them last, and rose up from his chair, and went to his old familiar seat by the great bookcase, where he had sat and pored over great volumes day after day, and watched the boy at his studies. the portrait on the wall looked down at him with its soft and tender eyes, and he thought, "now i may look at it without its reproaching me; for, dear heart, i have begun to 'come up.' i have turned my eyes toward thy abode, and, god helping me, i may some day hear thy own sweet voice. and though i may never see the boy's face, and rejoice to look upon it as i do upon thine, yet his pure memory lingers about everything that he loved and touched, and his face can never be removed from my heart." calm and peaceful days passed, and the third week after the shipwreck went by, and life in the stone house began to move on as it was wont to do. once more the red light from the library-window streamed out into the night, but there was no skipper ben and his "gull" for it to guide. not a sail had been seen near the rock, and its inhabitants had been shut out from the rest of mankind for three long weeks. that which at first was only an inconvenience grew to be a serious matter at last. the culm folk, never very provident, exhausted their supply of flour and meal, and had only fish to eat; and fish, with a little salt, was not an extensive nor varied bill of fare. in some way or another, hagar discovered that the people had exhausted all their stores, and through her it came to trafford's ears. "nuffin but fish ter live on, an' not de greatest plenty o' dat," hagar had said, standing beside trafford's chair in the library. the man started, as a sudden remembrance of forgotten duties came into his mind. he had neglected to look after those culm people,--he had forgotten about noll's school and its pupils. but it should be so no longer, he resolved at once. that work which the boy loved and desired to complete, he would take up and carry out. it should be a pleasure and delight. he would gather up the broken, half-completed plans, and make it the work of his life to perfect them as noll would have done. now the inmates of the stone house were not well supplied with provisions, as the winter stores had not been laid in. there was no telling when another ship would touch at culm, but, in all probability, it would be soon. the skipper must have friends somewhere, who would be searching for his whereabouts. trafford divided his supplies with the fishermen, trusting that ere long some sail would appear, bound for the rock, or within signalling distance of it. he walked often by the sea, looking toward hastings, and trying in vain to discern some sail bound hitherward. he walked over to culm village, and lingered about the little room where noll's school had been, and resolved that the plan of a new schoolroom, with good seats, benches, and a faithful teacher, should be carried out if ever communication was opened between the rock and hastings. and if no teacher could be got for the winter, he would teach the children himself. he wondered whether there were any chairs or benches left from the cargo of the "gull," remembering that noll was to bring school-furniture from hastings with him; but, though he searched long and keenly among the timbers and refuse which the sea had thrown up, he could not find so much as a bit of varnished wood that looked as if it might have belonged to a desk or chair. at this he wondered, but thought, "the poor boy was unsuccessful, or else the sea refuses to give up aught that was his, as well as himself." and still he watched and waited for a sail, thinking that if none came soon, a way must be devised for getting to hastings. chapter xxv. out of the sea. the fourth week after the shipwreck dragged slowly away,--spent in watching and waiting for a sail. none came. the lack of good food was getting to be a serious matter for both culm folk and the inmates of the stone house. trafford's stores were well-nigh exhausted, and the last day of that long fourth week was spent in company with dirk sharp and some of his comrades, devising plans by which they might communicate with hastings. the master of the stone house walked homeward after his conference with the fishermen, and paused in the gathering dusk on the spot where he had stood that fearful night when the "gull" and her crew were on the rocks in the awful roar and thunder of the tempest. how silent and peaceful it all lay now,--the sea purpling in its calm and shadowy depths, its waves faintly murmuring on the pebbles, and, overhead, the arch of silvery sky bending down to the far horizon, full of the tender lights of the after-glow! only one month since that fearful night, yet how far in the dim past the event seemed! what a great darkness and despair he had struggled through! how full and real every minute of those four weeks had been! and, as he stood there, such strong and tender memories of the lad he had lost came back to him that he turned away with a throbbing heart, and walked homeward along the sand with a bowed head, and so failed to see the white gleaming of a sail which rose out of the sea and stood toward the rock. the lingering daylight touched it with a rosy flush as the rising night-breeze bore it steadily onward; but trafford saw it not, and went up the piazza-steps, and into the stone house, without turning his eyes seaward. he ate his scanty supper, which hagar--poor heart!--had placed upon the table with a wonderful display of dishes, as if to make up for the lack of food by a board spread with cups and plates enough for a feast, and then took his way to the silent library. he sat down at his organ, and from its long-silent pipes drew soft and tender music that filled the room and stole gently through the house. the tears came into hagar's eyes as she listened to it. "'pears as ef de angels was singin'," she said, wiping her cheeks. "hagar wonders ef de lord'll gib her a voice like dat when she gets ter glory." it died away at last in gentle, tremulous whispers, and trafford walked to the window and looked out. twilight had settled so thickly that the sea was quite hidden, save a faint glimmer of ripples along the sand. deep quiet reigned over land and sea, and nowhere with such undisputed sway as in the stone house. trafford lit his study-lamp and sat down, with no desire, however, to read or study. hardly had he seated himself, when, with startling suddenness, a shrill scream broke upon the deep quiet. it was hagar's voice, and the cry came from her kitchen; and before trafford had recovered from his surprise, there was a little sound of commotion in her distant province,--doors were thrown open, voices echoed, and then along the silent hall came a sound--the rush of eager feet--that drove every trace of color from trafford's face, as well it might, and made his heart beat so loud and wildly that he pressed his hands over it to stay its tumultuous beating. he started up, gazing with wide-open eyes at the library-door, while at every echo of those coming footsteps, he started and trembled, and grew faint with anticipation. the door burst open, and there stood--noll trafford! [illustration: "it's i, uncle richard" page .] one moment the boy paused, perhaps frightened by the white face of the man who sat gazing motionlessly at him, then he bounded forward, crying, "it's i, uncle richard!--your own noll!" trafford's arms did not clasp the boy about; his tongue refused to articulate; his heart could not take in this great, overwhelming joy. but noll's arms were about his neck, the boy's warm breath was upon his cheek, and in his ears was the lad's whisper, "it's i,--i, uncle richard! no one else!" then the man began to sigh, just as if he were awakening from a long and troubled dream, and presently he put out his hand and touched the boy's cheeks, as if to assure himself that it was not all a vision, and then he said, chokingly, "my boy,--_mine_! o god! i don't deserve this." his arms clasped the lad in one long, fervent embrace. he bent his head over the curly locks, and wept for joy, stroking the lad's shoulders and pressing his hands the while, as if he were not yet sure that the boy was a reality. he looked upon him as one from the dead. had the sea given him up?--had that terrible tempest spared him in its wild fury? why had the boy lingered so long? where had he been sojourning all these long weeks? but too happy in the consciousness that it was really noll, safe and unharmed, who was before him, to care for aught further at present, he sat silently holding the boy's hands, while his heart gave grateful thanks to god. "poor uncle richard!" said the boy, at last. trafford's lips moved, and with an effort he said, "no, no,--not _poor_! i'm rich, rich!--_so_ rich! o god, help me! i can't believe my own happiness." "but it's really i, uncle richard!" said noll, assuringly; "you've felt my hands, my face, my shoulders, and aren't they alive and warm?" "yes, it is really you, thank god!" said trafford, drawing a long breath, while he gazed upon the merry face that he never more expected to see on earth. "yes, and oh, uncle richard, you can't know how i longed to see you, to tell you that i was alive and safe! i knew you would worry, but i didn't think you'd think me dead. i didn't think _that_ till we got to culm, and dirk and all the rest trembled, and were actually going to run away from me!" "then you have not been harmed?" said trafford: "but oh, my boy, where were you on that awful night?" "safe and sound, with ned thorn, at hastings, uncle richard, and not even dreaming of danger or shipwreck. you see, the furniture was not ready, and i hadn't found a teacher, and so i stayed. ned and i went down to the wharf the night before the 'gull' was to sail, and carried a letter to the skipper to give to you, telling you why i couldn't come; but poor ben never got here alive, and the letter was lost with him, i suppose. oh, uncle richard, if i _had_ started,--if the furniture had been ready--" "thank god it was not!" interrupted trafford, presently; "he watched over you, he stayed your coming, and now he has brought you out of the sea, as it were, to me. oh, noll!" the boy looked up eagerly. "have--have you found the lord jesus, uncle richard?" he asked. trafford's hands rested tenderly on the boy's head. "yes," he said, with a great calm and peace in his voice, "i found him through great sorrow and grief. i think god led me through all this suffering that my heart might be softened and turned toward him. and now this saviour has brought you back to me!" a deep silence followed, full of unutterable joy. trafford reverently bent his head, his lips quivering with emotion, and with his nephew's hands clasped in his, silently thanked god for his goodness, for this great joy which was come into his life, for this precious lad that was dead and now was alive again. it seemed as if god had brought him out of the sea to him. at last noll said, taking up his explanation where he had left it off,-- "after we had given the letter to the skipper, i thought no more about it, and ned and i were busy enough with seeing about the furniture for a day or two, and we didn't notice the storm, or even think of the 'gull' being in danger. and mr. gray helped me to find a teacher, and we were so busy with plans that the time passed away before i knew it, and when i came to go down on the wharf to engage a passage with ben, the men said the 'gull' had never got back from her last trip, and they were afraid it was lost. ned didn't believe there had been a shipwreck, neither did mr. gray. he said that most likely the skipper had been kept by some business, or perhaps the 'gull' had gone farther down the coast than usual. oh, uncle richard! we didn't think that poor ben was drowned, nor that you thought me wrecked with him." trafford said, "those were fearful days for me. go on, go on, noll." "we went down to the wharf every night till another week was gone, and then, we began to be certain that ben was either wrecked or sick, and i began to be anxious to get some word to you. i thought that perhaps you might be worried about me, though mr. gray said that if the 'gull' was wrecked anywhere near culm, you could not help but know i was not on board. we waited and waited till the three weeks were gone, and then some of ben's friends began to talk of going in search of him. but it was only till last night that they were ready to go, and we came off before daylight this morning. oh, the time has seemed so long, uncle richard! but here i am, safe and sound, once more." trafford looked at his nephew as if he could yet hardly believe his eyes. "and you should have seen dirk and the rest!" continued noll; "why, he wouldn't speak to me at first, but was going to run away; but when he did find that it was really i, he cried like a great child. he said that you thought me dead,--you can't know how i felt when he said that, uncle richard,--and so ned and i didn't wait any longer, but ran all the way here. i can think, now, why you looked so white when i came in at the door!" trafford stroked the boy's hair, saying, "i never thought to hear the echoes of your feet again. god knows. oh, my boy, _you_ can never know what this night has brought to me. he who led you thither only can. but whose name did you mention?" "ned's; he came down with me, uncle richard, for it's vacation at hastings. we came up to the kitchen-door, because hagar's light shone so brightly, and what do you think? she threw up her hands and screamed at the sight of me. but it didn't take long to make her certain that i was real, and not a vision. and, oh, there's one thing i'd forgotten! the new teacher is at culm, waiting for dirk to come over with his trunks. it's one of papa's old scholars, uncle richard, and his name is henry fields. he worked with papa in the old sea-town where we lived, and he's come down to work here at culm among our fish-folk. i like him very much, and you can't help but like him, too; and we've brought a cargo of benches and desks all ready to--" the library-door began to swing softly open,--not so softly, however, but that noll heard and stopped. "it's ned," he said, looking over his shoulder. "come in!" ned came shyly around to where they were sitting, his usually merry face sobered by something which he perceived in the faces of his friends before him. a silence fell upon them here. ned leaned against his friend, looking soberly at trafford's rapt face, and wondering where all the man's grimness and gloominess had gone. and just then a sudden thought came into noll's heart, and he said, looking up brightly,-- "it's a year this very night since i came to you, uncle richard! don't you remember? what a long, long time!" trafford said, "yes, i remember. through all the days since then god has been teaching me, and he has led me on to this; and, oh! my boy, the sea may never divide us again, for, though through its dark floods we go down to death, beyond there is light and god and heaven!" and in his voice there was peace unutterable. * * * * * if this story of a year, and what it taught, is not already too long, you may know that a schoolhouse was built at culm, and that henry fields proved a good and faithful teacher; that a stanch, new "white gull" was built, and one of skipper ben's sea-loving sons was its captain; that the culm children and their parents slowly improved in more ways than one under the constant, unfailing care and effort of trafford and his nephew; that the rock was not always noll trafford's home, but exchanged for a pleasanter one in hastings, though the old stone house was often brightened by his presence, and never got to be entirely gloomy and deserted again. aileen aroon, a memoir with other tales of faithful friends and favourites by gordon stables published by s.w. partridge & co., paternoster row, london. this edition dated . aileen aroon, a memoir, by gordon stables. ________________________________________________________________________ ________________________________________________________________________ aileen aroon, a memoir, by gordon stables. preface. prefaces are not always necessary; but when an author has either to acknowledge a courtesy, or to make an apology, then a preface becomes a duty. i have to do both. firstly, then, as regards acknowledgment. i have endeavoured in this book to give sketches--as near to nature as a line could be drawn--of a few of my former friends and favourites in the animal world, and many of these have appeared from time to time in the magazines and periodicals, to which i have the honour to contribute. i have to thank, then, the good old firm of messrs. chambers, of edinburgh, for courteously acceding to my request to be allowed to republish "my cabin mates and bedfellows," and "blue-jackets' pets," from their world-known journal. i have also to thank messrs. cassell and co., london, for the re-appearance herein of several short stories i wrote for their charming magazine _little folks_, on the pages of which, by the way, the sun never sets. mr dean, one of my publishers, kindly permitted me to reprint the story of my dead-and-gone darling "tyro," and the story of "blucher." this gentleman i beg to thank. i have also to thank messrs. routledge and son for a little tale from my book, "the domestic cat." nor must i forget to add that i have taken a few sketches, though no complete tales, from some of my contributions to that queen of periodicals yclept _the girl's own paper_, to edit which successfully, requires as much skill and taste, as an artist displays in the culling and arrangement of a bouquet of beautiful flowers. with the exception of these tales and sketches, all else in the book is original, and, i need hardly add, painted from the life. secondly, as regards apology. the wish to have, in a collected form, the life-stories of the creatures one has loved; to have, as it were, the graves of the pets of one's past life arranged side by side, is surely only natural; no need to apologise for that, methinks. but, reader, i have to apologise, and i do so most humbly, for the too frequent appearance of the "_ego_" in this work. i have had no wish to be autobiographical, but my own life has been as intimately mixed up with the lives of the creatures that have called me "master," as is the narrow yellow stripe, in the tartan plaid of the scottish clan to which i belong. and so i crave forgiveness. gordon stables. _gordon grove, twyford, berks_. chapter one. prologistic. scene: a lofty pine wood, from which can be caught distant glimpses of the valley of the thames. "aileen aroon," a noble newfoundland, has thrown herself down by her master's side. all the other dogs at play in the wood. aileen's master (_speaks_): "and so you have come and laid yourself down beside me, aileen, and left your playmates every one? left your playmates roaming about among the trees, while you stay here by me? "yes, you may put your head on my knee, dear, honest aileen, or your chin at all events, for you yourself, old girl, have no idea of the weight of your whole head. no, aileen, thank you, not a paw as well; you are really attempting now to take the advantage of my good nature. so be content, `sable' [note ]--my good, old, silly, simple sable. there, i smooth your bonnie brow to show you that the words `old' and `silly' are truly terms of endearment, and meant neither as a scoff at your age, nor to throw disparagement upon the amount or quality of your intellect. intellect? who could glance for a single moment at that splendid head of yours, my aileen, and doubt it to be the seat of a wisdom almost human, and of a benevolence that might easily put many of our poor fallen race to shame. and so i smooth your bonnie brow thus, and thus. but now, let us understand each other, aileen. we must have done with endearments for a little time. for beautiful though the day be, blue the sky, and bright the sunshine, i really have come out here to the quiet woods to work. it is for that very purpose i have seated myself beneath this great tree, the branches of which are close and thick enough to defend us against yonder shower, that comes floating up the valley of the thames, if indeed it can ever reach this height, my sable. "no noisy school children, no village cries to disturb and distract one here, and scatter his half-formed ideas to the winds, or banish his best thoughts to the shades of oblivion. everything is still around us, everything is natural; the twittering of the birds, the dreamy hum of insect life, the sweet breath of the fir-trees, combine to calm the mind and conduce to thought. "why do i not come and romp and play? you ask. i cannot explain to you why. there _are_ some things, aileen, that even the vast intellect of a newfoundland cannot comprehend; the electric telegraph, for instance, the telephone, and why a man must work. you do not doubt the existence of what you do not understand, however, my simple sable. we poor mortal men do. what a thing faith is even in a newfoundland! "no, sable, i must work. here look, is proof of the fifteenth chapter of my serial tale, copy of the sixteenth must go to town with that. in this life, aileen, one must keep ahead of the printer. this is all greek to you, is it? well then, for just one minute i will talk to you in language that you do understand. "there, you know what i mean, don't you, when i fondle your ear, and smooth it and spread it over my note-book? what a great ear it is, aileen! no, i positively refuse to have that paw on my knee in addition to your head. don't be offended, i know you love me. there, put back that foot on the grass. "yes, aileen, it _was_ very good of you, i admit, to leave your fan and your romps, and come and lay your dear kindly head on my lap. the other dogs prefer to play. even `theodore nero,' your husband, is tumbling on the ground on that broad back of his, with his four immense legs pointing skywards, and his whole body convulsed with merriment. the three collies are in chase of a hare, the occasional excited yelp that is borne along on the breeze can tell us that; we pray they may not meet the keeper. the dandie dinmont is hidden away in the dark depths of a rabbit burrow, and the two wiry wee scotch terriers are eagerly watching the hole 'gainst the rabbit bolts. "fun and romps did i say, aileen? alas! dear doggie, these are hardly the words to apply to your little games, for you seldom play or romp with much heart, greatly though it rejoices me to see you lively. you seldom play with much heart, mavourneen, and when you do play, you seem but to play to please me and you tire all too soon. i know you have a deep sorrow at your heart, for you lost your former master, aileen, and you are not likely to forget him. there always is a sad look in those hazel eyes of yours, and forgive me for mentioning it, but you are turning very grey around the lips. your bright saucy-eyed husband yonder is three years older than you, sable, and he isn't grey. but, aileen, i know something that you don't know, poor pet, for i'm very learned compared to you. the seeds of that terrible disease, phthisis, are in your blood, i fear, and will one day take you from me, and i'll have to sit and write under this tree--alone. i'm talking greek again, am i? it is as well, aileen, it should be greek to you. why do my eyes get a trifle moist, you seem to ask me. never mind. there! the sad thoughts have all flown away for a time, but, my dear, loving dog, when you have gone to sleep at last and for ever, i'll find a quiet corner to lay your bones in, and--i'll write your story. yes, i promise you that, and it is more than any one will ever do for me, aileen. "don't sigh like that. you have a habit of sighing, you tell me. very well, so be it, but i thought at first that it was the wind soughing through this old pine-tree of ours. yes, _ours_--yours and mine, aileen. now, _do_ let me work. see, i'll put my note-book close to your great nose, and your chin shall touch my left hand; you can lie so and gaze all the time in my face. that will help me materially. but by-and-by you'll fall asleep and dream, and i'll have to wake you, because you'll be giving vent to a whole series of little ventriloquistic barks and sobs and sighs, and i will not know whether you are in pain or whether your mind is but reverting to-- "`visions of the chase, of wild wolves howling over hills of snow, slain by your stalwart fathers, long ago.'" ------------------------------------------------------------------------ note . the subject of this memoir was called `sable' before she came into my possession. she is well remembered by all lovers of the true newfoundland, as sable one of the show benches, and was generally admitted to be the largest and most handsome of her breed and sex ever exhibited.--the author. chapter two. introducing aileen aroon. "with eye upraised his master's looks to scan, the joy, the solace, and the aid of man, the rich man's guardian, and the poor man's friend, the only creature faithful to the end." crabbe. "the newfoundland, take him all in all, is unsurpassed, and possibly unequalled as the companion of man."--_idstone_. "these animals are faithful, good-natured, and friendly. they will allow no one to injure either their master or his property, however great be the danger. they only want the faculty of speech to make their good wishes understood."--"_newfoundland dogs_," in _mcgregor's "historical and descriptive sketches of british america_." _dog barks_. shepherd.--"heavens! i could hae thocht that was `bronte.'" _christopher north_.--"no bark like his, james, now belongs to the world of sound." _shepherd_.--"purple black was he all over, as the raven's wing. strength and sagacity emboldened his bounding beauty, but a fierceness lay deep down within the quiet lustre of his eye, that tauld ye, had he been angered he could hae torn in pieces a lion." _north_.--"not a child of three years old and upwards in the neighbourhood that had not hung by his mane, and played with his paws, and been affectionately worried by him on the flowery greensward."--"_noctes ambrosianae_." "heigho!" i sighed, as i sat stirring the fire one evening in our little cosy cottage. "so that little dream is at an end." "twenty guineas," said my wife, opening her eyes in sad surprise. "twenty guineas! it is a deal of money, dear." "yes," i assented, "it is a deal of money for us. not, mind you, that sable isn't worth double. she has taken the highest honours on the show benches; her pedigree is a splendid one, and all the sporting papers are loud in her praises. she is the biggest and grandest newfoundland ever seen in this country. but twenty guineas! yes, that is a deal of money." "i wish i could make the money with my needle, dear," my wife remarked, after a few minutes' silence. "i wish i could make the money with my pen, dot," i replied; "but i fear even pen and needle both together won't enable us to afford so great a luxury for some time to come. there are bills that must be paid; both baker and butcher would soon begin to look sour if they didn't get what they call their little dues." "yes," said dot, "and there are these rooms to be papered and painted." "to say nothing of a new carpet to be bought," i said, "and oilcloth for the lobby, and seeds for the garden." "yes, dear," said my wife, "and that american rocking-chair that you've set your heart upon." "oh, that can wait, dot. there are plenty other things needed more than that. but it is quite evident, sable is out of the question for the present." i looked down as i spoke, and patted the head of my champion newfoundland theodore nero, who had entered unseen and was gazing up in my face with his bonnie hazel eyes as if he comprehended every word of the conversation. "poor nero," i said, "i _should_ have liked to have had sable just to be a mate and companion for you, old boy." the great dog looked from me to my wife, and back again at me, and wagged his enormous tail. "i've got you, master," he seemed to say, "and my dear mistress. what more could i wish?" just as i pen these lines, gentle reader, two little toddlers are coming home from forenoon school, with slates under their arms; but when the above conversation took place, no toddlers were on the books, as they say in the navy. we were not long married. it was nine long years ago, or going on that way. the previous ten years of my life had been spent at sea; but service in africa had temporarily ruined my health, so that invaliding on a modicum of half-pay seemed more desirable than active service on full. these were the dear old days of poverty and romance. retirement from active duty afloat and--marriage. it is too often the case that he who marries for love has to work for siller. henceforward, literature was to be my staff, if not the crutch on which i should limp along until "my talents should be recognised," as my wife grandly phrased it. "poor and content is rich, and rich enough," says the greatest william that ever lived. there is nothing to be ashamed of in poverty, and just as little to boast about. naval officers who retire young are all poor. i know some who once upon a time were used to strut the quarter-deck or ship's bridge in blue and gold, and who are now, god help them, selling tea or taking orders for wine. "with all my worldly goods i thee endow." i squeezed the hand of my bride at the altar as i spoke the words, and well she knew the pressure was meant to recall to her mind a fact of which she was already cognisant, that "all my worldly goods" consisted of a cremona fiddle, and my newfoundland dog, and my old sea-chest; but the bottom of that was shaky. but to resume my story. "hurrah!" i shouted some mornings after, as i opened the letters. "here's news, dot. we're going to have sable after all. hear how d. o'c writes. he says-- "`though i have never met you, judging from what i have seen of your writings, i would rather you accepted sable as a gift, than that any one else should have my favourite for money,' and so on and so forth." these are not the exact words of the letter, but they convey the exact meaning. sable was to come by boat from ireland, and i was to go to bristol, a distance of seventy miles, to meet her, for no one who values the life and limbs of a dog, would trust to the tender mercies of the railway companies. "i'll go with you, gordon," said my dear friend, captain d--. like myself, he had been a sailor, but unmarried, for, as he used to express it, "he had pulled up in time." he had taken _punch's_ advice to people about to marry--"don't." captain d--didn't. "well, frank," i said, "i'll be very glad indeed of your company." so off we started the night before, for the boat would be in the basin at hotwells early the next morning. the scene and the din on board that irish boat beggars description, and i do not know which made the most noise, the men or the pigs. i think if anything the pigs did. it seemed to me that evil spirits had entered into the pigs, and they wanted to throw themselves into the sea. i believe evil spirits had entered into the men, too; some of them, at all events, _smelt_ of evil spirits. "is it a thremendeous big brute 'av a black dog you've come to meet, sorr?" said the cook to me. "yes," i replied, "a big black dog, but not a brute." "well, poor baste, sorr, it's in my charge she has been all the way, and she's had lashin's to ate and to drink. thank you koindly, sir, and god bless your honour. yonder she is, sorr, tied up foreninst the horse-box, and she's been foighting with the pigs all the noight, sorr." she certainly had been fighting with the pigs, for she herself was wounded, and the ears of some of the pigs were in tatters. sable was looking very sour and sulky. she certainly had not relished the company she had been placed among. she permitted me to lead her on shore; then she gave me one glance, and cast one towards my friend. "you'll be the _man_ that has come for me," she said; she did not say "the gentleman." "who is your fat friend?" she added. we both caressed her without eliciting the slightest token on her part of any desire to improve our acquaintance. "you may pat me," she told us, "and call me pet names as much as you please. i won't bite you as i did the pigs, but i don't care a bone for either of you, and, what is more, i never intend to. i have left my heart in ireland; my master is there." "come on, sable," i said; "we'll go now and have some breakfast." "don't pull," said sable; "i'm big enough to break the chain and bolt if i wish to. i'll go with you, but i'll neither be dragged nor driven." no dog ever had a better breakfast put before her, but she would not deign even to look at it. "yes," she seemed to say, "it is very nice, and smells appetising, and i'm hungry, too; a bite of a sow's ear is all i've had since i left home; but for all that i don't mean to eat; i'm going to starve myself to death, that is what i'm going to do." it is very wrong and unfair to bring home any animal, whether bird or beast, to one's house without having previously made everything needful ready for its reception. sable's comfort had not been forgotten, and on her arrival we turned her into the back yard, where, in a small wooden house, was a bed of the cleanest straw, to say nothing of a dish of wholesome food, and a bowl of the purest water. the doors to the yard were locked, but no chain was put on the new pet, for the walls were seven feet high or nearly so, and her safety was thus insured. so we thought, but, alas for our poor logic! we had yet to learn what sable's jumping capabilities were. when i wrote next day, and told her old master that sable had leapt the high wall and fled, the reply was that he regretted very much not having told me, that she was the most wonderful dog to jump ever he had seen or heard tell of. meanwhile sable was gone. but where or whither? the country is well-wooded, but there are plenty of sheep in it. judging from sable's pig-fighting qualities, i felt sure she would not starve, if she chose to feed on sheep. but one sheep a day, even for a week, would make a hole in my quarter's half-pay, and i shuddered to think of the little bill sable might in a very short time run me up. no one had seen sable. so days passed; then came a rumour that some school children had been frightened nearly out of their little wits by the appearance of an enormous bear, in a wood some miles from our cottage. my hopes rose; the bear must be sable. so an expedition was organised to go in search of her. the rank and file of this expedition consisted of schoolboys. i myself was captain, and theodore nero, the newfoundland, was first lieutenant. we were successful. my heart jumped for joy as i saw the great dog in the distance. but she would not suffer any one to come near her. that was not her form. i must walk on and whistle, and she would follow. i was glad enough to close with the offer, and gladder still when we reached home before she changed her mind and went off again. chaining now became imperative until sable became reconciled to her situation in life, until i had succeeded in taming her by kindness. this was by no means an easy task. for weeks she never responded to either kind word or caress, but one day sable walked up to me as i sat writing, and, much to my surprise, offered me her great paw. "shake hands," she seemed to say as she wagged her tail, "shake hands. you're not half such a bad fellow as i first took you for." my friend, captain d--, was delighted, and we must needs write at once to sable's old master to inform him of the unprecedented event. sable became every day more friendly and loving in her own gentle undemonstrative and quiet fashion. but as yet she had never barked. one day, however, on throwing a stick to nero, she too ran after it, and on making pretence to throw it again, sable began to caper. not gracefully perhaps, but still it was capering, and finally she barked. when i told friend frank he was as much overjoyed as i was. i suggested writing at once to ireland and making the tidings known. "a letter, gordon," said my friend emphatically, "will not meet the requirements of the case. let us telegraph. let us wire, thus--`_sable has barked_.'" the good dog's former master was much pleased at the receipt of the information. "she will do now," he wrote; "and i'm quite easy in my mind about her." now all this may appear very trivial to some of my readers, but there really was for a time, a probability that sable would die of sheer grief, as, poor dog, she eventually succumbed to consumption. we were, if possible, kinder to sable, or aileen aroon, as she was now called, than ever. she became the constant companion of all our walks and rambles, and developed more and more excellences every week. without being what might be called brilliant, aileen was clever and most teachable. she never had been a trained or educated dog. theodore nero had, and whether he took pity on his wife's ignorance or not, i cannot say, but he taught her a very great deal she never knew anything about before. here is a proof that aileen's reasoning powers were of no mean order. when master nero wanted a tit-bit he was in the habit of making a bow for it. the bow consisted in a graceful inclination or lowering of the chest and head between the outstretched fore-paws. well, aileen was not long in perceiving that the performing of this little ceremony always procured for her husband a morsel of something nice to eat, that "to boo, and to boo, and to boo," was the best of policies. she therefore took to it without any tuition, and to see those "twa dogs," standing in front of me when a biscuit or two were on the board, and booing, and booing, and booing, was a sight to have made a dray-horse smile. i am sure that nero soon grew exceedingly fond of his new companion, and she of him in her quiet way. i may state here parenthetically, that master nero had had a companion before aileen. his previous experience of the married state, however, had not been a happy one. his wife, "bessie" to name, had taken to habits of intemperance. she had been used to one glass of beer a day before she came to me, and it was thought it might injure her to stop it. if she had kept to this, it would not have mattered, but she used to run away in the evenings, and go to a public-house, where she would always find people willing to treat her for the mere curiosity of seeing a dog drink. when she came home she was not always so steady as she might be, but foolishly affectionate. she would sit down by me and insist upon shaking hands about fifteen times every minute, or she would annoy nero by pawing him till he growled at her, and told her, or seemed to tell her, she ought to be ashamed of herself for being in the state she was. she was very fat, and after drinking beer used to take nero's bed from him and sleep on her back snoring, much to his disgust. this dog was afterwards sold to mr montgomery, of oxford, who stopped her allowance for some months, after which she would neither look at ale nor gin-and-water, of which latter she used to be passionately fond. aileen and nero used to be coupled together in the street with a short chain attached to their collars. but not always; they used to walk together jowl to jowl, whether they were coupled or not, and these two splendid black dogs were the wonder and admiration of all who beheld them. whatever one did the other did, they worked in couple. when i gave my stick to nero to carry, aileen must have one end of it. when we went shopping they carried the stick thus between them, with a bag or basket slung between, and their steadiness could be depended on. they used to spring into the river or into the sea from a boat both together, and both together bring out whatever was thrown to them. their immense heads above the water both in friendly juxta-position, were very pretty to look at. they were in the habit of hunting rats or rabbits in couples, one going up one side of the hedge, the other along the other side. i am sorry to say they used at times, for the mere fun of the thing, and out of no real spirit of ill-nature, to hunt horses as well as rabbits, one at one side of the horse the other at the other, and likewise bicyclists; this was great fun for the dogs, but the bicyclists looked at the matter from quite another point of view. but i never managed to break them altogether of these evil habits. it has often seemed to me surprising how one dog will encourage another in doing mischief. a few dogs together will conceive and execute deeds of daring, that an animal by himself would never even dream of attempting. as i travelled a good deal by train at that time, and always took my two dogs with me, it was more convenient to go into the guard's van with my pets, than take a first or second class carriage by storm. i shall never forget being put one day with the two dogs into a large almost empty van. it was almost empty, but not quite. there was a ram tied up at the far end of it. now if this ram had chosen to behave himself, as a ram in respectable society ought to, it would have saved me a deal of trouble, and the ram some danger. but no sooner had the train started than the obstreperous brute began to bob his head and stamp his feet at me and my companions in the most ominous way. luckily the dogs were coupled; i could thus more easily command them. but no sooner had the ram begun to stamp and bob, than both dogs commenced to growl, and wanted to fly straight at him. "let us kill that insolent ram," said nero, "who dares to stamp and nod at us." "yes," cried aileen, "happy thought! let us kill him." i was ten minutes in that van before the train pulled up, ten minutes during which i had to exercise all the tact of a great general in order to keep the peace. had the ram, who was just as eager for the fray as the dogs, succeeded in breaking his fastenings, hostilities would have commenced instantly, and i would have been powerless. by good luck the train stopped in time to prevent a catastrophe, and we got out, but for nearly a week, as a result of my struggle with the dogs, i ached all over and felt as limp as a stranded jelly-fish. chapter three. containing the story of one of aileen's friends. "the straw-thatched cottage, or the desert air, to him's a palace if his master's there." just eighteen months after the events mentioned in last chapter, as novelists say, things took a turn for the better, and we retired a little farther into the country into a larger house. a bigger house, though certainly not a mansion; but here are gardens and lawn and paddock, kennels for dogs, home for cats, and aviaries for birds, many a shady nook in which to hang a hammock in the summer months, and a garden wigwam, which makes a cool study even in hot weather, bedraped as it is in evergreens, and looks a cosy wee room in winter, when the fire is lighted and the curtains are drawn. "ah! gordon," dear old frank used to say--and there was probably a grain of truth in the remark--"there is something about the quiet contented life you lead in your cottage, with its pleasant surroundings, that reminds me forcibly of the idyllic existence of your favourite bard, horace, in his home by the banks of the anio. "`beatus ille qui procul negotiis, ut prisca gens mortalium, patenta rure bubus exercet suis solutus omni fenore, neque excitatur classico miles truci neque horret iratum mare.'" "true, frank," i replied, "at sea i often thought i would dearly love a country life. my ambition--and i believe i represent quite a large majority of my class--used to be, that one day i might be able to retire on a comfortable allowance--half-pay, for instance--take a house with a morsel of land, and keep a cow and a pony, and go in for rearing poultry, fruit, and all that sort of thing. such was my dream. "there were six of us in our mess in the saucy little `pen-gun.' "it was hot out there on the east coast of africa, where we were stationed, and we did our best to make it hotter--for the dhows which we captured, at all events, because we burned them. nearly all day, and every day, we were in chase, mostly of slave dhows, but sometimes of jolly three-masters. "away out in the broad channel of the blue mozambique, with never a cloud in the sky, nor a ripple on the ocean's breast, tearing along at the rate of twelve knots an hour, with the chase two miles ahead, and happy in the thoughts of quite a haul of prize-money, it wasn't half bad fun, i can assure you. then we could whistle `a sailor's life is the life for me,' and feel the mariner all over. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "but, when the chase turned out to be no prize, but only a legitimate trader, when the night closed in dark and stormy, with a roaring wind and a chopping sea, then, it must be confessed, things did not look quite so much _couleur de rose_, dot a mariner's life so merry-o! "on nights like these, when the fiddles were shipped across the table to keep things straight--for a lively lass was the saucy `pen-gun,' and thought no more of breaking half-a-dozen wine-glasses, than she did of going stem first in under a wave she was too lazy to mount--when the fiddles were shipped, when we had wedged ourselves into all sorts of corners, so as we shouldn't slip about and fall, when the steward had brought the coffee and the biscuits called ships', then it was our wont to sit and sip and talk and build our castles in the air. "`it's all very fine,' one of us would say, `to talk of the pleasures of a sailor's life, it's all very well in songs; but, if i could only get on shore now, on retired pay--' "`why, what would you do?'--a chorus. "`why, go in for the wine trade like a shot,' from the first speaker. `that's the way to make money. derogatory, is it? well, i don't see it; i'd take to tea--' "chorus again: `oh! come, i say!' "some one, more seriously and thoughtfully: `no; but wouldn't you like to be a farmer?' the ship kicks, a green sea breaks over her. we are used to it, but don't like it, even although we do take the cigars from our lips, as we complacently view the water pouring down the hatchway and rising around our chairs' legs. "`a farmer, you know, somewhere in the midland counties; green fields and lowing kine; a nice stream, meandering--no not meandering, but-- "`chattering over stony ways, in little sharps and trebles, bubbling into eddying bays. babbling o'er the pebbles; winding about, and in and out, with here a blossom sailing, and here and there a lusty trout, and here and there a grayling.' "`yes,' from another fellow, `and of course a comfortable house of solid english masonry, and hounds not very far off, so as one could cut away to a hunt whenever he liked.' "`and of course balls and parties, and a good dinner _every_ day.' "`and picnics often, and the seaside in season, and shooting all the year round.' "`and i'd go in for bees.' "`oh! yes, i think every fellow would go in for bees.' "`and have a field of scottish heather planted on purpose for them: fancy how nice that would look in summer!' "`and i'd have a rose garden.' "`certainly; nothing could be done without a rose garden.' "`then one could go in for poultry, and grow one's own eggs.' "`hear the fellow!--fancy _growing_ eggs!' "`well, lay them, then--it's all the same. i'm not so green as to imagine eggs grow on trees.' "`and think of the fruit one might have.' "`and the mushroom beds.' "`and brew one's own beer and cider.' "`and of course one could go in for dogs.' "`oh! la! yes--have them all about the place. elegant irish setters, dainty greyhounds, cobby wee fox-terriers, a noble newfoundland or two, and a princely bloodhound at each side of the hall-door.' "`that's the style!' "`now, give us a song, pelham!' "`what shall it be--dibdin?' "`no, pelham, give us, "sweet jessie, the flower o' dumblane," or something in that style. let us fancy we are farmers. doesn't she pitch and roll, though! dibdin and russell are all very well on shore, or sitting under an awning in fine weather when homeward bound. we're not homeward bound--worse luck!--so heave round with the "flower o' dumblane."' "my dream has in some measure been fulfilled, my good friend frank; i can sit now under my own vine and my own fig-tree, but still look back with a certain degree of pleasure to many a night spent on board that heaving, pitching, saucy, wee ship." ------------------------------------------------------------------------ our new home nestles among trees not far from a very primitive wee town indeed. we have only to descend along the hill-side through the pine-trees, wind some way round the knoll, and there at our feet lies _our_ village--fernydale, to wit. it might just as well be called sleepy hollow, such a dreamy little spot it is. not very far from a great line of rails--just far enough to subdue the roar of the trains, that night and day go whirling past in a drowsy monotone, like the distant sound of falling water. everything and everybody about our little village looks quiet and drowsy; the little church itself, that nestles among the wealth of foliage, looks the picture of drowsiness, and the very smoke seems as if it preferred lingering in fernydale to ascending upwards and joining the clouds. we have a mill here--oh! such a drowsy old mill! no one was ever known to be able to pass that mill without nodding. intoxicated lieges, who have lain down to rest opposite that mill, have been known to sleep the sleep that knows no waking; and if at any time you stop your horse for a moment on the road, while you talk to the miller, the animal soon begins to nod; and he nods, and nods, and nid-nid-nods, and finally goes to sleep entirely, and it takes no end of trouble to start him off again. our very birds are drowsy. the larks don't care to sing a bit more than suffices for conjugal felicity, and the starlings are constantly tumbling down our bedroom chimney, and making such a row that we think the burglars have come. the bees are drowsy; they don't gather honey with any degree of activity; they don't seem to care whether they gather it or not. they are often too lazy to fly back to hive, and don't go home till morning; and if you were to take a walk along our road at early dawn--say : a.m.--you would often find these bees sitting limp-winged and half asleep on fragrant thistle-tops, and if you poked at them with a stalk of hay, and tried to reason with them, they would just lift one lazy fore-leg and beckon you off, as much as to say, peevishly-- "oh! what was i born for? _can't_ you leave a poor fellow alone? what do ye come pottering around here at midnight for?" such is the hum-drum drowsiness of little fernydale. but bonny is our cottage in spring and summer, when the pink-eyed chestnuts are all ablaze at the foot of the lawn, when flowers bloom white on the scented rowans, when the yellow gorse on the knoll beyond glints through the green of the trees, when the merlin sings among the drooping limes, and the croodling pigeons make soft-eyed love on the eaves; and there is beauty about it, too, even in winter, when the world is robed in snow, when the leafless branches point to leaden skies, and the robin, tired of his sweet little song, taps on the panes with his tiny bill, for the crumbs he has never to ask for in vain. it was one winter's evening in the year eighteen hundred and seventy something, that frank stood holding our parlour-door in his hand, while he gazed with a pleased smile at the group around the fire. it wasn't a large group. there were dot and ida knitting: and my humble self sitting, book in hand and pipe in mouth. then there were the newfoundland dogs on the hearth, and pussy singing on the footstool, singing a duet with the kettle on the hob. and i must not forget to mention "poll," the parrot. nobody knew how old polly was, but with her extreme wisdom you couldn't help associating age. she didn't speak much at a time; like many another sage, she went in for being laconic, pithy, and to the point. i think, however, that some day or other polly will tell us quite a long story, for she often clears her throat and says, "_now_," in quite an emphatic manner; then she cocks her head, and says "are you listening?" "we are all attention, polly," we reply. so polly begins again with her decided "_now_;" but up to this date she has not succeeded in advancing one single sentence farther towards the completion of her story. well, upon the winter's evening in question frank stood there, holding the door and smiling to himself, and any one could see at a glance that frank was pregnant with an idea. "i've been thinking," said frank, "that there is nothing needed to complete the happiness of the delightful evenings we spend here, except a story-teller." "no one better able than yourself, frank, to fill the post," i remarked. "well, now," said frank, "for that piece of arrant flattery, i fine you a story." "read us that little sketch about `dandie,'" my wife said. "yes, do," cried ida, looking up from her work. if a man is asked to do anything like this he ought to do it heartily. dandie, i may premise, is, or rather was, a contemporary of aileen aroon. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ our dandie. a very long doggie is dandie, with little short bits of legs, nice close hanging ears, hair as strong and rough as the brush you use for your hair, and a face--well, some say it is ugly; i myself, and all my friends, think it is most engaging. to be sure, it is partially hidden with bonnie soft locks of an ambery or golden hue; but push those locks aside, and you will see nothing in those beautiful dark hazel eyes but love and fun. for dandie is fall of fun. oh! doesn't she enjoy a run out with the children! on the road she goes feathering, here, there, and everywhere. her legs are hardly straight, you must understand--the legs of very few dandies are, for they are so accustomed to go down drains, and all sorts of holes, and go scraping here, and scraping there, that their feet and fore-legs turn at last something like a mole's. dandie wasn't always the gentle loving creature she is now, and this is the reason i am writing her story. here, then, is how i came by dandie. i was sitting in my study one morning, writing as usual, when a carriage stopped at the door, and presently a friend was announced. "why, dawson, my boy!" i cried, getting up to greet him, "what wind blew you all the way here?" "not a good one, by any means," said dawson; "i came to see you." "well, well, sit down, and tell me all about it. i sincerely hope miss hall is well." "well! yes," he replied abstractedly. "i think i've done all for the best; though that policeman nearly had her. but she left her mark on him. ha! ha!" i began to think my friend was going out of his mind. "dawson," i said, "what have you done with her?" "she's outside in the carriage," replied dawson. i jumped up to ring the bell, saying, "why, dawson, pray have the young lady in. it is cruel to leave her by herself." dawson jumped up too, and placing his hand on my arm, prevented me from touching the bell-rope. "nay, nay!" he cried, almost wildly, i thought; "pray do not think of it. she would bite you, tear you, rend you. oh, she is a _vixen_!" this last word he pronounced with great emphasis, and sinking once more into the chair, and gazing abstractedly at the fire, he added, "and still i love her, good little thing!" i now felt quite sorry for dawson. a moment ago i merely _thought_ he was out of his mind, now i felt perfectly sure of it. there was a few minutes' silence; and then suddenly my friend rushed to the window, exclaiming-- "there, there! she's at it again! she has got the cabby by the coat-tails, and she'll eat her way through him in five minutes, if i don't go." and out he ran; and i followed, more mystified than ever; and there in the carriage was no young lady at all, but only the dear little dandie whose story i am writing. she was most earnestly engaged in tearing the driver's blue coat into the narrowest strips, and growling all the while most vigorously. she quieted down, however, immediately on perceiving her master, jumped into his arms, and began to lick his face. so the mystery was cleared up; and half an hour afterwards i was persuaded to become the owner of that savage dandie, and dawson had kissed her, and left lighter in heart than when he had come. i set aside one of the best barrel kennels for her, had a quantity of nice dry straw placed therein, and gave her two dishes, one to be filled daily with pure clean water--without which, remember, no dog can be healthy--and the other to hold her food. now, i am not afraid of any dog. i have owned many scores in my time, and by treating them gently and firmly, i always managed to subdue even the most vicious among them, and get them to love me. but i must confess that this dandie was the most savage animal that i had ever yet met. when i went to take her dish away next morning, to wash and replenish it, only my own celerity in beating a retreat prevented my legs from being viciously bitten. i then endeavoured to remove the dish with the stable besom. alas for the besom! howling and growling with passion, with scintillating eyes and flashing teeth, she tore that broom to atoms, and then attacked the handle. but i succeeded in feeding her, after which she was quieter. now, dogs, to keep them in health, need daily exercise, and i determined dandie should not want that, wild though she seemed to be. there was another scene when i went to unloose her; and i found the only chance of doing so was to treat her as they do wild bulls in some parts of the country. i got a hook and attached it to the end of a pole the same length as the chain. i could then keep her at a safe distance. and thus for a whole week i had to lead her out for exercise. i lost no opportunity of making friends with her, and in about a fortnight's time i could both take her dish away without a broom and lead her out without the pole. she was still the vixen, however, which her former master had called her. when she was presented with a biscuit, she wouldn't think of eating it, before she had had her own peculiar game with it. she would lay it first against the back of the barrel, and for a time pretend not to see it, then suddenly she would look round, next fly at it, growling and yelping with rage, and shake it as she would a rat. into such a perfect fury and frenzy did she work herself during her battle with the biscuit, that sometimes on hearing her chain rattle she would turn round and seize and shake it viciously. i have often, too, at these times seen her bite her tail because it dared to wag--bite it till the blood sprang, then with a howl of pain bite and bite it again and again. at last i made up my mind to feed her only on soil food, and that resolution i have since stuck to. poor dandie had now been with us many months, and upon the whole her life, being almost constantly on the chain, was by no means a very happy one. her hair, too, got matted, and she looked altogether morose and dirty, and it was then that the thought occurred to my wife and me that she would be much better _dead_. i considered the matter in all its bearings for fully half an hour, and it was then i suddenly jumped up from my chair. "what _are_ you going to do?" asked my wife. "i'm going to wash dandie; wash her, comb out all her mats, dry her, and brush her, for, do you know, i feel quite guilty in having neglected her." my wife, in terror of the consequences of washing so vicious a dog, tried to dissuade me. but my mind was made up, and shortly after so was dandie's bed--of clean dry straw in a warm loft above the stable. "firmly and kindly does it," i had said to myself, as i seized the vixen by the nape of the neck, and in spite of her efforts to rend any part of my person she could lay hold of, i popped her into the tub. vixen, did i say? she was popped into the tub a vixen, sure enough, but i soon found out i had "tamed the shrew," and after she was rinsed in cold water, well dried, combed, and brushed, the poor little thing jumped on my knee and kissed me. then i took her for a run--a thing one ought never to neglect after washing a dog. and you wouldn't have known dandie now, so beautiful did she look. dandie is still alive, and lies at my feet as i write, a living example of the power of kindness. she loves us all, and will let my sister, wife, or little niece do anything with her, but she is still most viciously savage to nearly all strangers. she is the best guard-dog that i ever possessed, and a terror to tramps. she is very wise too, this dandie of mine, for when out walking with any one of my relations, she is as gentle as a lamb, and will let anybody fondle her. she may thus be taken along with us with impunity when making calls upon friends, but very few indeed of those friends dare go near her when in her own garden or kennel. we have been well rewarded for our kindness to dandie, for although her usual residence by day is her own barrel, and by night she has a share of the straw with the other dogs, she is often taken into the house, and in spite of our residence being in a somewhat lonely situation, whenever i go from home for the night she becomes a parlour boarder, and i feel quite easy in my mind because _dandie is in the house_. "well," said frank, when i had finished, "if that little story proves anything, it proves, i think, that almost any dog can be won by kindness." "or any animal of almost any kind," i added. "ah!" cried frank, laughing, "but you failed with your hyaena. didn't you?" "gratitude," i replied, smiling, "does not occupy a very large corner in a hyaena's heart, frank." ------------------------------------------------------------------------ note. since writing the above, poor dandie has gone to her little grave in the orchard. chapter four. dedicated to girls and boys only. "a little maiden, frank and fair, with rosy lips apart, and sunbeams glinting in her hair, and sunshine at her heart." in my last chapter i mentioned the name of ida. ida graham was my little niece. alas! she no longer brightens our home with the sunshine of her smile. poor child, she was very beautiful. we all thought so, and every one else who saw her. i have but to close my eyes for a moment and i see her again knitting quietly by the fire on a winter's evening, or reading by the open window in the cool of a summer's day; or, reticule in hand, tripping across the clovery lea, the two great dogs, aileen and nero, bounding in front of her; or blithely singing as she feeds her canaries; or out in the yard beyond, surrounded by hens and cocks, pigeons, ducks, and geese, laughing gaily as she scatters the barley she carries in her little apron. it was not a bit strange that every creature loved ida graham, from the dogs to the bees. we lost her one day, i remember, in summer-time, and found her at last sound asleep by the foot of a tree, with deer browsing quietly near her, a hare washing its face within a yard of her, and wild birds hopping around and on her. such was ida. it is no wonder, then, that we miss the dear child. very often i would have ida all to myself for a whole day, when my wife was in town or visiting, and frank was gardening or had the gout, for he suffered at times from that aristocratic but tantalising ailment. on these occasions, when the weather was fine, we always took the dogs and went off to spend an hour or two in the woods. if it rained we stayed indoors, seated by the open window in order to be near the birds. but wet day or fine, ida generally managed to get a story from me. it was in the wood, and seated beneath the old pine-tree, that i told her the following. i called it-- ------------------------------------------------------------------------ puff: the autobiography of a persian pussy. i am one of seven. very much to the grief and sorrow of my poor patient mother, all the rest of my little brothers and sisters met with a watery grave. i did not know what mother meant when she told me this, with tears in her eyes. i was too young then, but i think i know now. but i was left to comfort my parent's heart. this was humane at least in my mistress, because, although it seems the fate of us poor pussies that very many of us come into the world to be speedily drowned, it is cruel, for many reasons, to destroy all a mother's darlings at once. well, the very earliest thing that i can remember is being taken up in the arms of a pretty young lady. i was two months old then, and had been playing with a ball of worsted, which i had succeeded in getting entangled among the chair-legs. "oh, what a dear, beautiful, wee puss!" said this young miss, holding me round, so that she might look at my face. "and, oh!" she added, "it has such lovely eyes, and such a nice long coat." "you may have it, laura dear," said my mistress, "if you will be kind to it." "thank you so very much," said laura, "and i know i shall be fond of it always." and i do not doubt for a moment that laura meant what she said. her fault, however, and my misfortune lay, as you shall see, in the fact that she did not know a bit how to treat a pussy in order to make it happy. laura liked me, and romped with me morning and night, it is true; but although cats are ever so fond of attention and of romps, they cannot live upon either, and often and often i have gone hungry to my saucer and found it empty, which made me feel very cold and sad and dispirited. yet, in spite of this, i grew to be very fond indeed of my new mistress, and as i sometimes managed to catch a mouse i was not so very badly off after all. when i gazed at miss laura's gentle face and her sweet eyes--they were just like my own--i could not help thinking that if she only knew how hungry and cold i often was, she would surely feed me twice a day at least. but my crowning sorrow was to come; and this was nothing less than the loss, i fear entirely, of my mistress's affection. my grief was all the more bitter in that i was in some measure to blame for it myself. you see, i was a growing cat, and every day the pangs of hunger seemed more difficult to bear; so one day, when left by myself in the kitchen, i found out a way to open the cupboard, and--pray do not blame me; i do think if you had seen all the nice things therein, and felt as hungry as i felt, you would have tasted them too. one little sin begets another, and before two months were over i was known in the kitchen as "that thief of a cat." i do not think miss laura knew of my depredations downstairs, for i was always honest in the parlour, and she would, i feel certain, have forgiven me even if she had known. as i could not be trusted in the kitchen, i was nearly always tamed out-of-doors of a night. this was exceedingly unkind, for it was often dark and rainy and cold, and i could find but little shelter. on dry moonlight nights i did not mind being out, for there was fun to be got--fun and field-mice. alas! i wish now i had kept to fun and field-mice; but i met with evil company, vagrant outdoor cats, who took a delight in mewing beneath the windows of nervous invalids; who despised indoor life, looked upon theft as a fine art, and robbed pigeon-lofts right and left. is it any wonder, then, that i soon turned as reckless as any of them? i always came home at the time the milk arrived in the morning, however; and even now, had my young mistress only fed me, i would have changed my evil courses at once. but she did not. now this constant stopping out in all weathers began to tell on my beautiful coat; it was no longer silky and beautiful. it became matted and harsh, and did show the dirt, so much so that i was quite ashamed to look in the glass. and always, too, i was so tired, all through my wanderings, when i returned of a morning, that i did nothing all day but nod drowsily over the fire. no wonder miss laura said one day-- "oh, pussy, pussy! you do look dirty and disreputable. you are no longer the lovely creature you once were; i cannot care for such a cat as you have grown." but i still loved her, and a kind word from her lips, or a casual caress was sure to make me happy, even in my dullest of moods. the end came sooner than i expected, for one day miss laura went from home very early in the morning. as soon as she was gone, mary jane, the servant, seized me rudely by the neck. i thought she was going to kill me outright. "i'll take good care, my lady," she said, "that you don't steal anything, at any rate for four-and-twenty hours to come." then she marched upstairs with me, popped me into my mistress's bedroom, locked the door, and went away chuckling. there was no one else in the room, only just myself and the canary. and all that long day no one ever came near me with so much as a drop of milk. when night came i tried to sleep on miss laura's bed, but the pangs of hunger effectually banished slumber. when day broke i felt certain somebody would come to the door. but no. i thought this was so cruel of mary jane, especially as i had no language in which to tell my mistress, on her return, of my sufferings. towards the afternoon i felt famishing, and then my eyes fell upon the canary. "poor little thing!" said i; "you, too, are neglected and starving." "tweet, tweet!" said the bird, looking down at me with one eye. "now, dicky," i continued, "i'm going to do you a great kindness. if you were a very, very large bird, i should ask you to eat me and put me out of all this misery." "tweet, tweet!" said the bird very knowingly, as much as to say, "i would do it without the slightest hesitation." "well," said i, "i mean to perform the same good office for you. i cannot see you starving there without trying to ease your sufferings, and so--" here i sprang at the cage. i draw a veil over what followed. and now my appetite was appeased, but my conscience was awakened. how ever should i be able to face my mistress again? hark! what is that? it is miss laura's footstep on the stair. she is singing as sweetly as only laura can. she approaches the door; her hand is on the latch. i can stand it no longer. with one bound, with one wild cry, i dash through a pane of glass, and drop almost senseless on to the lawn beneath the window. it was sad enough to have to leave my dear mistress and my dear old home, which, despite all i had endured, i had learned to love, as only we poor pussies can love our homes. but my mind was made up. i had eaten miss laura's pet canary, and i dare never, never look her in the face again. till this time i had lived in the sweet green country, but i now wandered on and on, caring little where i went or what became of me. by day i hid myself in burrows and rat-haunted drains, and at night came forth to seek for food and continue my wanderings. so long as the grass and trees were all around me, i was never in want of anything to eat; but in time all this changed, and gradually i found myself caning nearer and nearer to some great city or town. first, rows upon rows of neatly-built villas and cottages came into view, and by-and-by these gave place to long streets where never a green thing grew, and i passed lofty, many-windowed workshops, from which issued smoke and steam, and much noise and confusion. i met with many cats in this city, who, like myself, seemed to be outcasts, and had never known the pleasures of home and love. they told me they lived entirely by stealing, at which they were great adepts, and on such food as they picked out of the gutter. they listened attentively to my tales of the far-off country, where many a rippling stream meandered through meadows green, in which the daisies and the yellow cowslips grew; of beautiful flowers, and of birds in every bush. very much of what i told them was so very new to them that they could not understand it; but they listened attentively, nevertheless, and many a night kept me talking to them until i was so tired i felt ready to drop. in return for my stories they taught me--or rather, tried to teach me--to steal cleverly, not clumsily, as country cats do. but, alas! i could not learn, and do as i would i barely picked up a living; then my sufferings were increased by the cruelty of boys, who often pelted me with stones and set wild wicked dogs to chase me. i got so thin at last that i could barely totter along. one evening a large black tom-cat who was a great favourite of mine, and often brought me tit-bits, said to me, "there's a few of us going out shopping to-night; will you come?" "i'll try," i answered feebly, "for i do feel faint and sick and hungry." we tried some fishmongers' shops first, and were very successful; then we went to another shop. ill as i was, i could not help admiring the nimble way my tom, as i called him, sprang on to a counter and helped himself to a whole string of delicious sausages. i tried to emulate tom's agility, but oh, dear! i missed my footing and fell down into the very jaws of a terrible dog. how i got away i never could tell, but i did; and wounded and bleeding sorely, i managed to drag myself down a quiet street and into a garden, and there, under a bush, i lay down to die. it was pitilessly cold, and the rain beat heavily down, and the great drops fell through the bush and drenched me to the skin. then the cold and pain seemed all at once to leave me. i had fallen into an uneasy doze, and i was being chased once more by dogs with large eyes and faces, up and down in long wet streets where the gas flickered, through many a muddy pool. then i thought i found myself once again in the fields near my own home, with the sun brightly shining and the birds making the air ring with their music. then i heard a gentle voice saying-- "now, mary, i think that will do. the cheese-box and cushion make such a fine bed for her; and when she awakes give the poor thing that drop of warm milk and sugar." i did awake, and was as much surprised as pleased to find myself in a nice snug room, and lying not far from the fire. a neatly-dressed servant-girl was kneeling near me, and not far off a lady dressed in black sat sewing. this, then, was my new mistress, and--_i was saved_. how different she was from poor miss laura, who, you know, did not _mean_ to be cruel to me. this lady was very, very kind to me, though she made but little fuss about it. her thoughtfulness for all my comforts and her quiet caresses soon wooed me back again to life, and now i feel sure i am one of the happiest cats alive. i am not dirty and disreputable now, nor is my fur matted. i am no longer a thief, for i do not need to steal. my mistress has a canary, but i would not touch it for worlds--indeed, i love to hear it sing, although its music is not half so sweet to me as that of the teakettle. of an evening when the gas is lighted, and a bright fire burning in the grate, we all sing together--that is, the kettle, canary, and myself. they say i am very beautiful, and i believe they are right, for i have twice taken a prize at a cat show, and hope to win another. and if you go to the next great exhibition of cats, be sure to look for me. i am gentle in face and short in ears, my fur is long, and soft, and silky, and my eyes are as blue as the sea in summer. so you are sure to know me. ida sat silent, but evidently thinking, for some time after i had finished. "that is quite a child's story, isn't it?" she said at last. "yes," i replied; "but don't you like it?" "oh yes, i do," she said--"i like all your stories; so now just tell me one more." "no, no," i cried, "it is quite time we returned; your auntie will be back, and dinner waiting; besides, we have about three miles to walk." "just one little, little tale," she pleaded. "well," i replied, "it must be a very little, little one, and then we'll have to run. i shall call the story--" ------------------------------------------------------------------------ lost; or, little nellie's favourite. "it was a bitterly cold morning in the month of february, several years ago. how the time does fly, to be sure! snow had been lying on the ground for weeks, and more had fallen during the night; the wind, too, blew high from the east, and the few passengers who were abroad made the best of their way along the street, i can assure you, and looked as though they would rather be at home and at the fireside. i myself was out in the cold from force of habit. it had long been my custom to take a short walk before breakfast, and as the post-office of our village was only half a mile from my residence, going down for the letters that arrived by the first mail afforded me just sufficient excuse for my early ramble. but on this particular morning, as i was returning homewards, i was very much surprised to find my little friend nellie may standing at her gate bare-headed, and with her pretty auburn hair blowing hither and thither in the wind. "`why, nellie, dear!' i exclaimed, `what can have sent you out of the house so early? it is hardly eight o'clock, and the cold will kill you, child.' "`i was watching for you, sir,' said nellie, looking as serious as a little judge. `do come and tell me what i shall do with this poor dog. he was out in the snow, looking so unhappy, and has now taken up his abode in the shed, and neither miss smith nor i can entice him out, or get him to go away. and we are afraid to go near him.' "i followed nellie readily enough, and there, lying on a sack, which he had taken possession of, was the dog in question. to all intents and purposes he was of a very common kind. nobody in his senses would have given sixpence for him, except perhaps his owner, and who that might be was at present a mystery. "`will you turn him out and send him away?' asked nellie. "the dog looked in my face, oh, so pleadingly! "`kind sir,' he seemed to say, `do speak a word for me; i'm so tired, my feet are sore, i've wandered far from home, and i am full of grief.' "`send him away?' i replied to nellie. `no, dear; you wouldn't, would you, if you thought he was weary, hungry, and in sorrow for his lost mistress? look how thin he is.' "`oh!' cried nellie, her eyes filling with tears, `i'll run and bring him part of my own breakfast.' "`nellie,' i said, as we parted, `be kind to that poor dog; he may bring you good fortune.' "i do not know even now why i should have made that remark, but events proved that my words were almost prophetic. it was evident that the dog had travelled a very long way; but under nellie's tender care he soon recovered health and strength and spirits as well, and from that day for three long years you never would have met the girl unaccompanied by `tray,' as we called him. "now it came to pass that a certain young nobleman came of age, and a great fete was given to his tenantry at p--park, and people came from quite a long distance to join in it. i saw nellie the same evening. it had been a day of sorrow for her. tray had found his long lost mistress. "`and, oh, such an ugly little old woman!' said nellie almost spitefully, through her tears. `oh, my poor tray, i'll never, never see him more!' "facts are stranger than fiction, however, and the little old lady whom nellie thought so ugly adopted her (for she was an orphan), and nellie became in time very fond of her. the dog tray, whose real name by the way was jumbo, had something to do with this fondness, no doubt. "the old lady is not alive now; but nellie has been left all she possessed, jumbo included. he is by this time very, very old; his lips are white with age, he is stiff too, and his back seems all one bone. as to his temper--well, the less i say about that the better, but he is always cross with everybody--except nellie." chapter five. embodying a little tale and a little adventure. "reason raise o'er instinct as you can-- in this 'tis heaven directs, in that 'tis man." if ever two days passed by without my seeing the portly form of my friend captain d--, that is frank, heaving in sight about twelve o'clock noon, round the corner of the road that led towards our cottage, then i at once concluded that frank either had the gout or was gardening, and whether it were the fit of the gout or merely a fit of gardening, i felt it incumbent upon me to walk over to his house, a distance of little more than two miles, and see him. welcome? yes; i never saw the man yet who could give one a heartier welcome than poor frank did. he was passionately fond of my two dogs, nero and aileen aroon, and the love was mutual. but frank had a dog of his own, "meg merrilees" to name, a beautiful and kind-hearted scotch collie. most jealous though she was of her master's affections, she never begrudged the pat and the caress nero and aileen had, and, indeed, she used to bound across the lawn to meet and be the first to welcome the three of us. on the occasion of my visits to frank, i always stopped and dined with him, spending the evening in merry chatter, and tales of "auld lang syne," until it was time for me to start off on the return journey. when i had written anything for the magazines during the day, i made a practice of taking it with me, and reading over the manuscript to my friend, and a most attentive and amused listener he used to be. the following is a little _jeu d'esprit_ which i insert here, for no other reason in the world than that frank liked it, so i think there _must_ be a little, _little_ bit of humour in it. it is, as will be readily seen, a kind of burlesque upon the show-points and properties of the skye-terrier. i called the sketch-- ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "that skye-terrier."--a burlesque. "he's a good bred 'un, sir." this is the somewhat unclassical english with which "wasp's" yorkshire master introduced the puppy to me as he consigned it to my care, in return for which i crossed his hand five times with yellow gold. "and," he added, "he's a game 'un besides." i knew the former of these statements was quite correct from young wasp's pedigree, and of the latter i was so convinced, before a week was over, that i consented to sell him to a parson for the same money i gave for him--and glad enough to get rid of him even then. at this time the youthful wasp was a mere bundle of black fluff, with wicked blue eyes, and flashing teeth of unusually piercing properties. he dwelt in a distant corner of the parson's kitchen, in a little square basket or creel, and a servant was told off to attend upon him; and, indeed, that servant had about enough to do. wasp seemed to know that annie was his own particular "slavey," and insisted on her being constantly within hail of him. if she dared to go upstairs, or even to attend the door-bell, wasp let all the house hear of it, and the poor good-natured girl was glad to run back for peace' sake. another thing he insisted on was being conveyed, basket and all, to annie's bedroom when she retired for the night. he also intimated to her that he preferred eating the first of his breakfasts at three o'clock every morning sharp, upon pain of waking the parson; his second at four; third at five, and so on until further notice. i was sorry for annie. from the back of his little basket, where he had formed a fortress, garrisoned by wasp himself, and provisioned with bones, boots, and slippers enough to stand a siege of any length of time, he used to be always making raids and forays on something. even at this early age the whole aim of his existence seemed to be doing mischief. if he wasn't tearing annie's sunday boots, it was because he was dissecting the footstool; footstool failing, it was the cat. the poor cat hadn't a dog's life with him. he didn't mind pussy's claws a bit; he had a way of his own of backing stern on to her which defied her and saved his eyes. when close up he would seize her by the paw, and shake it till she screamed with pain. i was sorry for the cat. if you lifted wasp up in your arms to have a look at him, he flashed his alabaster teeth in your face one moment, and fleshed them in your nose the next. he never looked you straight in the face, but aslant, from the corners of his wicked wee eyes. in course of time--not pollok's--wasp's black puppy-hair fell off, and discovered underneath the most beautiful silvery-blue coat ever you saw in your life; but his puppy-manners did not mend in the least. in his case the puppy was the father of the dog, and if anything the son was worse than the father. talk of growing, oh! he did grow: not to the height--don't make any mistake, please; wasp calculated he was plenty high enough already--but to the length, if you like. and every day when i went down to see him annie would innocently ask me-- "see any odds on him this morning, doctor?" "well, annie," i would say, "he really does seem to get a little longer about every second day." "la! yes, sir, he do grow," annie would reply--"'specially when i puts him before the fire awhile." indeed, annie assured me she could see him grow, and that the little blanket with which she covered him of a night would never fit in the morning, so that she had to keep putting pieces to it. as he got older, wasp used to make a flying visit upstairs to see the parson, but generally came flying down again; for the parson isn't blessed with the best of tempers, anyhow. quickly as he returned, wasp was never down in time to avoid a kick from the clergyman's boot, for the simple reason that when wasp's fore-feet were at the kitchen-door his hindquarters were never much more than half-way down the stairs. n.b.--i forgot to say that this story may be taken with a grain of salt, if not found spicy enough to the taste. there was a stove-pipe that lay in a back room; the pipe was about two yards long, more or less. wasp used to amuse himself by running in at one end of it and out at the other. well, one day he was amusing himself in this sort of way, when just as he entered one end for the second time, what should he perceive but the hindquarters of a pure-bred skye just disappearing at the other. (you will please to remember that the stove-pipe was two yards long, more or less.) day after day wasp set himself to pursue this phantom skye, through the pipe and through the pipe, for wasp couldn't for the life of him make out why the animal always managed to keep just a _little_ way ahead of him. still he was happy to think that day after day he was gaining on his foe, so he kept the pot a-boiling. and one day, to his intense joy, he actually caught the phantom by the tail, in the pipe. joy, did i say? i ought to have said sorrow, for the tail was his own; but, being a game 'un, he wouldn't give in, but hung on like grim death until the plumber came and split the pipe and relieved him. (don't forget the length of the pipe, please.) even after he _was_ clear he spun round and round like a saint catherine's wheel, until he had to give in from sheer exhaustion. yes, he was a long dog. and it came to pass, or was always coming to pass, that he grew, and he grew, and he grew, and the more he grew, the longer and thicker his hair grew, till, when he had grown his full length--and i shouldn't like to say how long that was--you couldn't have told which was his head and which was his tail till he barked; and even annie confessed that she frequently placed his dish down at the wrong end of him. it was funny. if you take half a dozen goat-skins and roll them separately, in cylinders, with the hairy side out, and place them end to end on the floor, you will have about as good an idea of wasp's shape and appearance as any i can think about. you know those circular sweeping-machines with which they clean the mud off the country roads? well, wasp would have done excellently well as the roller of one of those; and indeed, he just looked like one of them--especially when he was returning from a walk on a muddy morning. it was funny, too, that any time he was particularly wet and dirty, he always came to the front door, and made it a point of duty always to visit the drawing-room to have a roll on the carpet previously to being kicked downstairs. getting kicked downstairs was wasp's usual method of going below. i believe he came at last to prefer it--it saved time. wasp's virtues as a house-dog were of a very high order: he always barked at the postman, to begin with; he robbed the milkman and the butcher, and bit a half-pound piece out of the baker's leg. no policeman was safe who dared to live within a hundred yards of him. one day he caught one of the servants of the gas company stooping down taking the state of the metre. this man departed in a very great hurry to buy sticking-plaster and visit his tailor. i lost sight of wasp for about six months. at the end of that time i paid the parson a visit. when i inquired after my longitudinal friend, that clergyman looked very grave indeed. he did not answer me immediately, but took two or three vigorous draws at his meerschaum, allowing the smoke to curl upwards towards the roof of his study, and following it thoughtfully with his eyes; then he slowly rose and extracted a long sheet of blue foolscap from his desk, and i imagined he was going to read me a sermon or something. "ahem!" said the parson. "i'll read you one or two casual items of wasp's bill, and then you can judge for yourself how he is getting on." there is no mistake about it-- wasp was a "well bred 'un and a game 'un." at the same time, i was sorry for the parson. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "i am really vexed that it is so dark and wet," said frank that night, as he came to the lawn-gate to say good-bye. "i wish i could walk in with you, but my naughty toe forbids; or, i wish i could ask you to stay, but i know your wife and ida would feel anxious." "indeed they would," i replied; "they would both be out here in the pony and trap. good-night; i'll find my way, and i've been wet before to-night." "good-night; god bless you," from frank. now the lanes of berkshire are most confusing even by daylight, and cabmen who have known them for years often go astray after dark, and experience considerable difficulty in finding their way to their destination. it is not to be wondered at, therefore, that i, almost a stranger to them, should have lost myself on so dark a night. aileen aroon and nero were coupled together, and from the centre of the short chain depended a small bicycle lamp, which rendered the darkness visible if it did nothing else. i led the dogs with a leathern strap. "it is the fourth turning to the right, then the second to the left, and second to the right again; so you are not going that way." i made this remark to the dogs, who had stopped at a turning, and wanted to drag me in what i considered the wrong direction. "the fourth turning, aileen," i repeated, forcing them to come with me. the night seemed to get darker, and the rain heavier every moment, and that fourth turning seemed to have been spirited away. i found it at last, or thought i had done so, then the second to the left, and finally the second to the right. by this time the lights of the station should have appeared. they did not. we were lost, and evidently long miles from home. lost, and it was near midnight. we were cold and wet and weary; at least i was, and i naturally concluded the poor dogs were so likewise. we tried back, but i very wisely left it to the two newfoundlands now to find the way if they could. "go home," i cried, getting behind them; and off they went willingly, and at a very rapid pace too. over and over again, i felt sure that the poor animals were bewildered, and were going farther and farther astray. well, at all events, i was bewildered, and felt still more so when i found myself on the brow of a hill, looking down towards station lights on the right instead of on the left, they ought to have been. they were our station lights, nevertheless, and a quarter of an hour afterwards we were all having supper together, the newfoundlands having been previously carefully dried with towels. did ever dogs deserve supper more? i hardly think so. chapter six. aileen and nero--a dog's receipt for keeping well--dog's in the snow in greenland--the life-story of aileen's pet, "fairy mary." "give me a look, give me a face, that makes simplicity a grace." simplicity was one of the most prominent traits of aileen's character. in some matters she really was so simple and innocent, that she could hardly take her own part. indeed, in the matter of food, her own part was often taken from her, for any of the cats, or the smaller dogs, thought nothing of helping the noble creature to drink her drop of milk of a morning. aileen, when they came to her assistance in this way, would raise her own head from the dish, and look down at them for a time in her kindly way. "you appear to be very hungry," she would seem to say, "perhaps more so than i am, and so i'll leave you to drink it all." then aileen would walk gently away, and throw herself down beneath the table with a sigh. there was a time when illness prevented me from leaving my room for many days, but as i had some serials going on in magazines, i could not afford to leave off working; i used, therefore, to write in my bedroom. as soon as she got up of a morning, often and often before she had her breakfast, aileen would come slowly upstairs. i knew her quiet but heavy footsteps. presently she would open the door about half-way, and look in. if i said nothing she would make a low and apologetic bow, and when i smiled she advanced. "i'm not sure if my feet be over clean," she would seem to say as she put her head on my lap with the usual deep-drawn sigh, "but i really could not help coming upstairs to see how you were this morning." presently i would hear more padded footsteps on the stairs. this was the saucy champion theodore nero himself, there could be no mistake about that. he came upstairs two or three steps at a time, and flung the half-open door wide against the wall, then bounded into the room like a june thunderstorm. he would give one quick glance at aileen. "hallo!" he would say, talking with eyes and tail, "you're here, are you, old girl? keeping the master company, eh? well, i'm not very jealous. how goes it this morning, master?" nero always brought into the sick-room about a hundredweight at least of jollity, sprightliness, life, and love. it used to make me better to see him, and make me long to be up and about, and out in the dear old pine woods again. "you always seem to be well and happy, nero," i said to him one day; "how do you manage it?" "wait," said nero, "till i've finished this chop bone, and i'll tell you what you should do in order to be always the same as i am now." as there is some good in master nero's receipt, i give it here in fall. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ a dog's receipt for keeping well. "get up in the morning as soon as the birds begin to sing, and if you're not on chain, take a good run round the garden. always sleep in the open air. don't eat more breakfast than is good for you, and take the same amount of dinner. don't eat at all if you're not hungry. eat plenty of grass, or green vegetables, if you like that better. take plenty of exercise. running is best; but if you don't run, walk, and walk, and walk till you're tired; you will sleep all the better for it. one hour's sleep after exercise is deeper, and sweeter, and sounder, and more refreshing than five hours induced by port-wine negus. don't neglect the bath; i never do. whenever i see a hole with water in it, i just jump in and swim around, then come out and dance myself dry. do good whenever you can; i always do. be brave, yet peaceful. be generous, charitable, and honest. never refuse a bit to a beggar, and never steal a bone from a butcher; so shall you live healthfully and happy, and die of the only disease anybody has any right to die of-- sheer old age." ------------------------------------------------------------------------ i never saw a dog appreciate a joke better than did poor nero. he had that habit of showing his teeth in a broad smile, which is common to the newfoundland and collie. here is a little joke that nero once unintentionally perpetrated. he had a habit of throwing up the gravel with his two immense hinder paws, quite regardless of consequences. a poor little innocent mite of a terrier happened one day to be behind master nero, when he commenced to scrape. the shower of stones and gravel came like the discharge from a _mitrailleuse_ on the little dog, and fairly threw him on his back. nero happened to look about at the same time, and noticed what he had done. "oh!" he seemed to say as he broke into a broad grin, "this is really too ridiculous, too utterly absurd." then bounding across a ditch and through a hedge, he got into a green field, where he at once commenced his usual plan of working off steam, when anything extra-amusing tickled him, namely, that of running round and round and round in a wide circle. many dogs race like this, no doubt for this reason: they can by so doing enjoy all the advantages of a good ran, without going any appreciable distance away from where master is. _apropos_ of dogs gambolling and racing for the evident purpose of getting rid of an extra amount of animal electricity, i give an extract here from a recent book of mine [note ]. the sketch is painted from real life. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ dogs in the snow in greenland. "the exuberance of great `oscar's' joy when out with his master for a walk was very comical to witness. out for a _walk_ did i say? nay, that word but poorly expresses the nature of oscar's pedal progression. it was not a walk, but a glorious compound of dance, scamper, race, gallop, and gambol. had you been ever so old it would have made you feel young again to behold him. he knew while allan was dressing that he meant to go out, and began at once to exhibit signs of impatience. he would yawn and stretch himself, and wriggle and shake; then he would open his mouth, and try to round a sentence in real verbal english, and tailing in this, fall back upon dog language, pure and simple, or he would stand looking at allan with his beautiful head turned on one side, and his mouth a little open, just sufficiently so to show the tip of his bright pink tongue, and his brown eyes would speak to his master. `couldn't you,' the dog would seem to ask--`couldn't you get on your coat a little--oh, _ever_ so little--faster? what can you want with a muffler? _i_ don't wear a muffler. and now you are looking for your fur cap, and there it is right before your very eyes!' "`and,' the dog would add, `i daresay we are off at last,' and he would hardly give his master time to open the companion door for him. "but once over the side, `hurrah!' he would seem to say, then away he would bound, and away, and away, and away, straight ahead as crow could fly, through the snow and through the snow, which rose around him in feathery clouds, till he appeared but a little dark speck in the distance. this race straight ahead was meant to get rid of his super-extra steam. having expended this, back he would come with a rush, and a run, make pretence to jump his master down, but dive past him at the last moment. then he would gambol in front of his master in such a daft and comical fashion that made allan laugh aloud; and, seeing his master laughing, oscar would laugh too, showing such a double regiment of white, flashing, pearly teeth, that, with the quickness of the dog's motions, they seemed to begin at his lips and go right away down both sides of him as far as the tail. "hurroosh! hurroosh! each exclamation, reader, is meant to represent a kind of a double-somersault, which i verily believe oscar invented himself. he performed it by leaping off the ground, bending sideways, and going right round like a top, without touching the snow, with a spring like that of a five-year-old salmon getting over a weir. "hurroosh! hurroosh! "then allan would make a grab at his tail. "`oh, that's your game!' oscar would say; `then down _you_ go!' "and down allan would roll, half buried in the powdery snow, and not be able to get up again for laughing; then away oscar would rush wildly round and round in a complete circle, having a radius of some fifty yards, with allan mcgregor on his broad back for a centre." ------------------------------------------------------------------------ theodore nero was as full of sauciness and _chique_ as ever was an eton boy home for the holidays, or a midshipman on shore for a cruise. the following anecdote will illustrate his merry sauciness and aileen's good-natured simplicity at the same time. nero was much quicker in all his motions than aileen, so that although she never failed to run after my walking-stick, she was never quick enough to find first. now one day in throwing my stick it fell among a bed of nettles. nero sprang after it as light as a cork, and brought it out; but having done so, he was fain to put it down on the road till he should rub his nose and sneeze, for the nettles had stung him in a tender part. to see what he would do, i threw the stick again among the nettles. but mark the slyness of the dog: he pretended not to see where it had fallen, and to look for it in quite another place, until poor simple aileen had found it and fetched it. as soon as she got on to the road she must needs put down the stick to rub her nose, when, laughing all over, he bounded on it and brought it back to me. i repeated the experiment several times, with precisely the same result. aileen was too simple and too good-natured to refuse to fetch the stick from the nettle-bed. about five minutes afterwards the fun was over. nero happened to look at aileen, who had stopped once more to rub her still stinging nose. then the whole humour of the joke seemed to burst upon his imagination. simply to smile was not enough; he must needs burst through a hedge, and get into a field, and it took ten minutes good racing round and round, as hard as his four legs could carry him, to restore this saucy rascal's mental equilibrium. aileen aroon was as fond of the lower animals, pet mice, cats, and rats, as any dog could be. our pet rats used to eat out of her dish, run all over her, sit on her head while washing their faces, and go asleep under her chin. i saw her one day looking quite unhappy. she wanted to get up from the place where she was lying, but two piebald rats had gone to sleep in the bend of her forearm, and she was afraid to move, either for fear of hurting the little pets or of offending me. seeing the situation, i at once took the rats away and put them in the cage; then aileen got up, made a low and grateful bow, and walked out. the following is the life-story of one of aileen's especial favourites:-- ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "fairy mary." my mary is a rat. it is just as well to state this much at the outset. candour, indeed, necessitates my doing so, because i know the very name of "rat" carries with it feelings which are far from pleasing to many. and now, having broken the ice, i may tell you that mary is not an ordinary black or brown rat, but a rat of high, high caste indeed, having come from a far-away oriental clime--java, to wit. if you had never seen one of the same breed before, you would hardly take mary to be a rat at all. children are exceedingly fond of her; gentlemen admire her; old ladies dote on her, and young ones love her. i think even my black tom-cat is especially fond of her, judging from the notice he takes of her; he will sit for hours, and hardly ever take his green eyes off her cage. black tom once paid mary a domiciliary visit, by way of appearing neighbourly. it was a grand spring, but missed by an inch, so tom returned, looking inglorious. having so far introduced my mary, and confident you will like her better as you read on, let me try to describe the winsome wee thing. mary--my rodent, let me call her--is smaller than a rat, and not quite the same in shape, for mary's symmetry is elegance itself. her eyes round, protrusive, but loving withal, are living burning garnets--garnets that speak. her whole body is covered with long snowy fur, far richer than the finest ermine, and with an almost imperceptible golden tint at the tips, this tint being only seen in certain lights. her tail is perhaps one of her principal points of beauty--long, sweeping, and graceful; she positively seems to talk with it. the forearms are very short and delicate, the hind-legs strong and muscular. sitting on one end is mary's almost constant position--kangaroo-like; then she holds up her little hands beseechingly before her. these latter are almost human in shape, and when she gives you her delicate, cold, transparent paw, you might easily fancy you were shaking hands with a fairy; and thus she is often called "fairy mary." mary's hands are bare and pink, and the wrists are covered with very short downy fur, after which the coat suddenly elongates, so much so, that when she stands on end to watch a fly on the ceiling, you would imagine she wore a gown tight at the wrist, and with drooping sleeves. now mary is not only beautiful, but she is winning and graceful as well, for every one says so who sees her. and in under her soft fur mary's skin is as clean and white and pure as mother-of-pearl. it only remains to say of this little pet, that in all her ways and manners she is as cleanly as the best-bred persian cat, and her fur has not the faintest odour, musky or otherwise. fairy mary was originally one of three which came to me as a present. alas for the fate of mary's twin sister and only brother! a vagrant cat one evening in summer, while i was absent, entered by the open window, broke into the cage, and mary alone was left alive. for a long time after this mary was missing. she was seen at times, of an evening, flitting ghost-like across the kitchen floor, but she persistently refused to return to her desolated cage-home. she much preferred leading a free and easy vagrant kind of life between the cellar, the pantry, and the kitchen. she came out at times, however, and took her food when she thought nobody was looking, and she was known to have taken up her abode in one corner of the pantry, where once a mouse had lived. when she took this new house, i suppose she found it hardly large enough for her needs, because she speedily took to cleaning it out, and judging from the shovelfuls of rags, paper, shavings, and litter of all sorts, very industrious indeed must have been the lives of the "wee, tim'rous, cowerin' beasties" who formerly lived there. then mary built unto herself a new home in that sweet retirement, and very happy she seemed to be. not happening to possess a cat just then, the mice had it all their own way; they increased and multiplied, if they didn't replenish the kitchen, and mary reigned among them--a bohemian princess, a gipsy queen. i used to leave a lamp burning in the kitchen on purpose to watch their antics, and before going to bed, and when all the house was still, i used to go and peep carefully through a little hole in the door. and there fairy mary would be, sure enough, racing round and round the kitchen like a mad thing, chased by at least a dozen mice, and every one of them squeaking with glee. but if i did but laugh--which, for the life of me, i could not sometimes help--off bolted the mice, leaving fairy mary to do an attitude wherever she might be. then mary would sniff the air, and listen, and so, scenting danger, hop off, kangaroo fashion, to her home in the pantry corner. it really did seem a pity to break up this pleasant existence of mary's, but it had to be done. mice eat so much, and destroy more. my mice, with mary at their head, were perfect sappers and miners. they thought nothing of gutting a loaf one night, and holding a ball in it the next. so, eventually, mary was captured, and once more confined to her cage, which she insisted upon having hung up in our sitting-room, where she could see all that went on. here she never attempted, even once, to nibble her cage, but if hung out in the kitchen nothing could keep her in. at this stage of her existence, the arrangements for mary's comfort were as follows: she dwelt in a nice roomy cage, with two perches in it, which she very much enjoyed. she had a glass dish for her food, and another for her milk, and the floor of the cage was covered with pine shavings, regularly changed once in two days, and among which mary built her nest. now, fairy mary has a very strong resemblance to a miniature polar bear, that is, she has all the motions of one, and does all his attitudes--in fact, acts the part of bruin to perfection. this first gave me the notion--which i can highly recommend to the reader--of making mary not only amusing, but ornamental to our sitting-room as well, for it must be confessed that a plain wooden cage in one's room is neither graceful nor pretty, however lovely the inmate may be. and here is how i managed it. at the back of our sitting-room is the kitchen, the two apartments being separated by a brick wall. right through this wall a hole or tunnel was drilled big enough for mary to run through with ease. the kitchen end of this tunnel was closed by means of a little door, which was so constructed that by merely touching an unseen spring in the sitting-room, it could be opened at will. against the kitchen end of the tunnel a cage for mary was hung. this was to be her dining-room, her nest, and sleeping-berth. now, for the sitting-room end of the tunnel, i had a painting made on a sheet of glass, over two feet long by eighteen inches high. the scene represented is from a sketch in north greenland, which i myself had made, a scene in the frozen sea--the usual blue sky which you always find over the ice, an expanse of snow, a bear in the distance, and a ship frozen in and lying nearly on her beam ends. a dreary enough look-out, in all conscience, but true to nature. there was a hole cut in the lower end of this glass picture, to match the diameter of the tunnel, and the picture was then fastened close against the wall. so far you will have followed me. the next thing was to frame this glass picture in a kind of cage, nine inches deep; the peculiarity of this cage being, that the front of it was a sheet of clear white glass, the sides only being of brass wire; the floor and top were of wood, the former being painted white, like the snow, and the latter blue, to form a continuation of the sky; a few imitation icebergs were glued on here and there, and one of these completely hides the entrance to the tunnel, forming a kind of rude cave--fairy mary's cave. in the centre of this cage was raised a small bear's pole steps and all complete. we call it the north pole. the whole forms a very pretty ornament indeed, especially when mary is acting on this little greenland stage. mary knows her name, and never fails to come to call, and indeed she knows a very great deal that is said to her. whenever she pops through her tunnel, the little door at the kitchen end closes behind her, and she is a prisoner in greenland until i choose to send her off. if she is in her kitchen cage, and i wish her to come north, and disport herself to the amusement of myself or friends--one touch to the spring, one cabalistic word, and there comes the little performer, all alive and full of fun. now i wish the reader to remember that fairy mary is not only the very essence of cleanliness, but the pink of politeness as well. hence, mary is sometimes permitted to come to table. and mary is an honest rat. she has been taught to look at everything, but handle nothing. therefore there cannot be the slightest possible objection to her either sitting on my shoulder on one end, and gazing wonderingly around her, or examining my ear, or making a nest of my beard, or running down my arm, and having a dance over the tablecloth. i think i said mary was an honest rat, but she has just one tiny failing in the way of honesty, which, as her biographer, i am bound to mention. she can't quite resist the temptation of a bit of butter. but she helps herself to just one little handful, and does it, too, with such a graceful air, that, for the life of me, i couldn't be angry with her. well, except a morsel of butter, mary will touch nothing on the table, nor will she take anything from your hand, if you offer it to her ever so coaxingly. she prefers to eat her meals in greenland, or on the north pole itself. mary's tastes as regards food are various. she is partial to a bit of cheese, but would not touch bacon for the world. this is rather strange, because it was exactly the other way with her brother and sister. the great treat of the twenty-four hours with mary is to get down in the evening, when the lamps are lighted, to have a scamper on the table. her cage is brought in from the kitchen, and set down, and the door of it thrown open. this cage thus becomes mary's harbour of refuge, from which she can sally forth and play tricks. anything you place on the table is seized forthwith, and carried inside. she will carry an apple nearly as big as herself, and there will not be much of it left in the morning; for one of mary's chief delights is to have a little feast all to herself, when the lights are out. lettuce leaves she is partial to, and will carry them to her cage as fast as you can throw them down to her. she rummages the work-basket, and hops off with every thimble she can find. after fairy mary's private establishment was broken up in the kitchen, it became necessary to clean up the corner of the pantry where she had dwelt. then was mary's frugality and prudence as a housewife made clear to the light of day i could hardly be supposed to tell you everything she had stored up, but i remember there were crusts of bread, bits of cheese, lumps of dog-biscuit, halves of apples, small potatoes, and crumbs of sugar, and candle ends, and bones and herrings' heads, besides one pair of gold sleeve-links, an odd shirt-stud, a glass stopper from a scent-bottle, brass buttons, and, to crown the lot, one silver threepenny-piece of the sterling coin of the realm. and that is the story of my rat; and i'm sure if you knew her you, too, would like her. she is such a funny, wee, sweet little _mite_ of a mary. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ note . "the cruise of the _snowbird_" published by messrs. hodder and stoughton, paternoster row. chapter seven. only a dog. "old dog, you are dead--we must all of us die-- you are gone, and gone whither? can any one say? i trust you may live again, somewhat as i, and haply, `go on to perfection'--some way!" tupper. poor little fairy mary, the favourite pet of aileen aroon, went the way of all rats at last. she was not killed. no cat took her. our own cats were better-mannered than to touch a pet. but we all went away on a summer holiday, and as it was not convenient to take every one of our pets with us, mary was left at home in charge of the servants. when we returned she was gone, dead and buried. she had succumbed to a tumour in the head which was commencing ere we started. i think aileen missed her very much, for she used to lie and watch the empty cage for an hour at a time, thinking no doubt that by-and-by fairy mary would pop out of some of her usual haunts. "dolls" was one of aileen's contemporaries, and one that she had no small regard for. dolls was a dog, and a very independent little fellow he was, as his story which i here give will show. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ dolls: his little story. there was a look in the dark-brown eyes of dolls that was very captivating when you saw it. i say when you saw it, because it wasn't always you could see it, for dolls' face was so covered with his dishevelled locks, that the only wonder was that he could find his way about at all. dolls was a scotch terrier--a _real_ scotch terrier. reddish or sandy was he all over--in fact, he was just about the colour of gravel in the gloaming; i am quite sure of this, because when he went out with me about the twilight hour, i couldn't see him any more than if he wasn't in existence; when it grew a little darker, strange to say, dolls became visible once more. plenty of coat had dolls too. you could have hidden a glove under his mane, and nobody been a bit the wiser. when he sat on one end, gazing steadfastly up into a tree, from which some independent pussy stared saucily down upon him, dolls looked for all the world like a doggie image draped in a little blanket. dolls had a habit of treeing pussies. this, indeed, was about the only bad trait in dolls' character. he hated a pussy more than sour milk, and nobody knew this better than the pussies themselves. probably, indeed, they were partly to blame for maintaining the warfare. i've seen a cat in a tree, apparently trying her very best to mesmerise poor dolls--dolls blinking funnily up at her, she gazing cunningly down. there they would sit and sit, till suddenly down to the ground would spring pussy, and with a warlike and startling "fuss!" that quite took the doggie's breath away, and made all his hair stand on end, clout master dolls in the face, and before that queer wee specimen of caninity could recover his equanimity, disappear through a neighbouring hedgerow. now cats have a good deal more patience than dogs. sometimes on coming trotting home of an evening, dolls would find a cat perched up in the pear-tree sparrow-expectant. "oh! _you're_ there, are you?" dolls would say. "well, i'm not in any particular hurry, i can easily wait a bit." and down he would sit, with his head in the air. "all right, dolls, my doggie," pussy would reply. "i've just eaten a sparrow, and not long ago i had a fine fat mouse, and, milk with it, and now i'll have a nap. nice evening, isn't it?" well, master dolls would watch there, maybe for one hour and maybe for two, by which time his patience would become completely exhausted. "you're not worth a wag of my tail," dolls would say. "so good-night." then off he would trot. but dolls wasn't a beauty, by any manner of means. i don't think anybody who wasn't an admirer of doormats, and a connoisseur in heather besoms could have found much about dolls to go into raptures over, but, somehow or other, the little chap always managed to find friends wherever he went. dolls was a safe doggie with children, that is, with well-dressed, clean-looking children, but with the gutter portion of the population dolls waged continual warfare. doubtless, because they teased him, and made believe to throw pebbles at him, though i don't think they ever did in reality. dolls was a great believer in the virtues of fresh air, and spent much of his time out of doors. he had three or four houses, too, in the village which he used to visit regularly once, and sometimes twice, a day. he would trot into a kitchen with a friendly wag or two of his little tail, which said, plainly enough, "isn't it wet, though?" or "here is jolly weather just!" "come away, dolls," was his usual greeting. thus welcomed, dolls would toddle farther in, and seat himself by the fire, and gaze dreamily in through the bars at the burning coals, looking all the while as serious as possible. i've often wondered, and other people used to wonder too, what dolls could have been thinking about as he sat thus. perhaps--like many a wiser head--he was building little morsels of castles in the air, castles that would have just the same silly ending as yours or mine, reader--wondering what he should do if he came to be a great big bouncing dog like wolf the mastiff; how all the little doggies would crouch before him, and how dignified he would look as he strode haughtily away from them; and so on, and so forth. but perhaps, after all, dolls was merely warming his mite of a nose, and not giving himself up to any line of thought in particular. now, it wasn't with human beings alone that this doggie was a favourite; and what i am now going to mention is rather strange, if not funny. you see, dolls always got out early in the morning. there was a great number of other little dogs in the village besides himself--poodles, pomeranians, and skyes, doggies of every denomination and all shades of colour, and many of these got up early too. there is no doubt early morn is the best time for small dogs, because little boys are not yet up, and so can't molest them. well, it did seem that each of these doggies, almost every morning, made up its mind to come and visit dolls. at all events, most of them _did_ come, and, therefore, dolls was wont to hold quite a tiny _levee_ on the lawn shortly after sunrise. after making obeisance to general dolls, these doggies would form themselves into a _conversazione_, and go promenading round the rose-trees in twos and twos. goodness only knows what they talked about; but i must tell you that these meetings were nearly always of a peaceable, amicable nature. only once do i remember a _conversazione_ ending in a general conflict. "well," said dolls, "if it _is_ going to be a free fight, i'm in with you." then dolls threw himself into it heart and soul. but to draw the story of dolls to a conclusion, there came to live near my cottage home an old sailor, one of frank's friends. this ancient mariner was one of the tom bowling type, for the darling of many a crew he had been in his time, without doubt. there was good-nature, combined with pluck, in every lineament of his manly, well-worn, red and rosy countenance, and his hair was whitened--not by the snows of well-nigh sixty winters, for i rather fancy it was the summers that did it, the summers' heat, and the _bearing of_ the brunt of many a tempest, and the anxiety inseparable from a merchant skipper's pillow. there was a merry twinkle in his eyes, that put you mightily in mind of the monks of old. and when he gave you his hand, it was none of your half-and-half shakes, let me tell you; that there was honesty in every throb of that man's heart you could tell from that very grasp. yes, he was a jolly old tar, and a good old tar; and he hadn't seen dolls and been in his company for two hours, before he fell in love with the dog downright, and, says he, "doctor, you want a good home for dolls; there is something in the little man's eye that i a sort of like. as long as he sails with me, he'll never want a good bed, nor a good dinner; so, if you'll give him to me, i'll be glad to take him." we shook hands. now this was to be the last voyage that ever that ancient mariner meant to make, until he made that long voyage which we all must do one of these days. and it _was_ his last too; not, however, in the way you generally read of in stories, for the ship didn't go down, and he wasn't drowned, neither was dolls. on the contrary, my friend returned, looking as hale and hearty as ever, and took a cottage in the country, meaning to live happily and comfortably ever after. and almost the first intimation i received of his return was carried by the doggie himself, for going out one fine morning, i found dolls on the lawn, surrounded as usual, by about a dozen other wee doggies, to whom, from their spellbound look, i haven't a doubt he was telling the story of his wonderful adventures by sea and by land, for, mind you, dolls had been all the way to calcutta. and dolls was so happy to see me again, and the lawn, and the rose-trees, and vagrant pussies, and no change in anything, that he was fain to throw himself at my feet and weep in the exuberance of his joy. dolls' new home was at h--, just three miles from mine; and this is somewhat strange--regularly, once a month the little fellow would trot over, all by himself, and see me. he remained in the garden one whole day, and slept on the doormat one whole night, but could never be induced either to _enter the house or to partake of food_. so no one could accuse dolls of cupboard love. when the twenty-four hours which he allotted to himself for the visit were over, dolls simply trotted home again, but, as sure as the moon, he returned again in another month. a bitter, bitter winter followed quickly on the heels of that pleasant summer of --. the snow fell fast, and the cold was intense, thermometer at times sinking below zero. you could ran the thrushes down, and catch them by hand, so lifeless were they; and i could show you the bushes any day where blackbirds dropped lifeless on their perches. even rooks came on to the lawn to beg; they said there wasn't a hip nor a haw to be found in all the countryside. and robin said he couldn't sing at all on his usual perch, the frost and the wind quite took his breath away; so he came inside to warm his toes. one wild stormy night, i had retired a full hour sooner to rest, for the wind had kept moaning so, as it does around a country house. the wind moaned, and fiercely shook the windows, and the powdery snow sifted in under the hall-door, in spite of every arrangement to prevent it. i must have been nearly asleep, but i opened my eyes and started at _that_--a plaintive cry, rising high over the voice of the wind, and dying away again in mournful cadence. twice it was repeated, then i heard no more. it must have been the wind whistling through the keyhole, i thought, as i sunk to sleep. perhaps it was, reader; but early next morning i found poor wee dolls dead on the doorstep. chapter eight. a tale told by the old pine-tree. "dumb innocents, often too cruelly treated, may well for their patience find future reward." tupper. bonnie berkshire! it is an expression we often make use of. bonnie berks--bonnie even in winter, when the fields are robed in starry snow; bonnie in spring-time, when the fields are rolling clouds of tenderest green, when the young wheat is peeping through the brown earth, when primroses cluster beneath the hedgerows, and everything is so gay and so happy and hopeful that one's very soul soars heavenwards with the lark. but berks i thought never looked more bonnie than it did one lovely autumn morning, when ida and i and the dogs walked up the hill towards our favourite seat in the old pine wood. it was bright and cool and clear. the hedges alone were a sight, for blackthorn and brambles had taken leave of their senses in summer-time, and gone trailing here and climbing there, and playing all sorts of fantastic tricks, and now with the autumn tints upon them, they formed the prettiest patches of light and shade imaginable; and though few were the flowers that still peeped through the green moss as if determined to see the last of the sunshine, who could miss them with such gorgeous colour on thorn and tree? the leaves were still on the trees; only whenever a light gust of wind swept through the tall hedge with a sound like ocean shells, ida and i were quite lost for a time, in a shower as of scented yellow snow. my niece put her soft little hand in mine, as she said--"you haven't forgotten the manuscript, have you?" "oh! no," i said, smiling, "i haven't forgotten it." "because," she added, "i do like you to tell me a story when we are all by ourselves." "thank you," said i, "but this story, ida, is one i'm going to tell to aileen, because it is all about a newfoundland dog." "oh! never mind," she cried, "nero and i shall sit and listen, and it will be all the same." "well, ida," i said, when we were seated at last, "i shall call my tale--" ------------------------------------------------------------------------ blucher: the story of a newfoundland. "we usually speak of four-in-hands rattling along the road. there was no rattling about the mail-coach, however, that morning, as she seemed to glide along towards the granite city, as fast as the steaming horses could tool her. for the snow lay deep on the ground, and but for the rattle of harness, and champing of bits, you might have taken her for one of dickens's phantom mails. it was a bitter winter's morning. the driver's face was buried to the eyes in the upturned neck of his fear-nothing coat; the passengers snoozed and hibernated behind the folds of their tartan plaids; the guard, poor man! had to look abroad on the desolate scene and his face was like a parboiled lobster in appearance. he stamped in his seat to keep his feet warm, although it was merely by reasoning from analogy that he could get himself to believe that he had any feet at all, for, as far as feeling went, his body seemed to end suddenly just below the knees, and when he attempted to emit some cheering notes from the bugle, the very notes seemed to freeze in the instrument. presently, the coach pulled up at the eighth-milehouse to change horses, and every one was glad to come down if only for a few moments. "the landlord,--remember, reader, i'm speaking of the far north, where mail-coaches are still extant, and the landlords of hostelries still visible to the naked eye. the landlord was there himself to welcome the coach, and he rubbed his hands and hastened to tell everybody that it was a stormy morning, that there would, no doubt, be a fresh fall ere long, and that there was a roaring fire in the room, and oceans of mulled porter. few were able to resist hints like these, and orders for mulled porter and soft biscuits became general. "big flakes of snow began to fall slowly earthward, as the coach once more resumed its journey, and before long so thick and fast did it come down that nothing could be seen a single yard before the horses' heads. "well, there was something or other down there in the road that didn't seem to mind the snow a bit, something large, and round, and black, feathering round and round the coach, and under the horses' noses--here, there, and everywhere. but its gambols, whatever it was, came to a very sudden termination, as that howl of anguish fully testified. the driver was a humane man, and pulled up at once. "`i've driven over a bairn, or a dog, or some o' that fraternity,' he said; `some o' them's continually gettin' in the road at the wrang time. gang doon, guard, and see aboot it. it howls for a' the warld like a young warlock.' "down went the guard, and presently remounted, holding in his arms the recipient of the accident. it was a jet-black newfoundland puppy, who was whining in a most mournful manner, for one of his paws had been badly crushed. "`now,' cried the guard, `i'll sell the wee warlock cheap. wha'll gie an auld sang for him? he is onybody's dog for a gill of whuskey.' "`i'll gie ye twa gills for him, and chance it,' said a quiet-looking farmer in one of the hinder seats. the puppy was handed over at once, and both seemed pleased with the transfer. the farmer nursed his purchase inside a fold of his plaid until the coach drew up before the door of the city hotel, when he ordered warm water, and bathed the little creature's wounded paw. "little did the farmer then know how intimately connected that dog was yet to be, with one of the darkest periods of his life's history. "taken home with the farmer to the country, carefully nursed and tended, and regularly fed, `blucher,' as he was called, soon grew up into a very fine dog, although always more celebrated for his extreme fidelity to his master, than for any large amount of good looks. "one day the farmer's shepherd brought in a poor little lamb, wrapped up in the corner of his plaid. he had found it in a distant nook of a field, apparently quite deserted by its mother. the lamb was brought up on the bottle by the farmer's little daughter, and as time wore on grew quite a handsome fellow. "the lamb was blucher's only companion. the lamb used to follow blucher wherever he went, romped and played with him, and at night the two companions used to sleep together in the kitchen; the lamb's head pillowed on the dog's neck, or _vice versa_, just as the case might be. blucher and his friend used to take long rambles together over the country; they always came back safe enough, and looking pleased and happy, but for a considerable time nobody was able to tell where they had been to. it all came out in good time, however. blucher, it seems, in his capacity of _chaperon_ to his young friend, led the poor lamb into mischief. it was proved, beyond a doubt, that blucher was in the daily habit of leading `bonny' to different cabbage gardens, showing him how to break through, and evidently rejoicing to see the lamb enjoying himself. i do not believe that poor blucher knew that he was doing any injury or committing a crime. `at all events,' he might reason with himself, `it isn't i who eat the cabbage, and why shouldn't poor bonny have a morsel when he seems to like it so much?' "but blucher suffered indirectly from his kindness to bonny, for complaints from the neighbours of the depredations committed in their gardens by the `twa thieves,' as they were called, became so numerous, that at last poor bonny had to pay the penalty for his crimes with his life. he became mutton. a very disconsolate dog now was poor blucher, moaning mournfully about the place, and refusing his food, and, in a word, just behaving as you and i would, reader, if we lost the only one we loved. but i should not say the only one that blucher loved, for he still had his master, the farmer, and to him he seemed to attach himself more than ever, since the death of the lamb; he would hardly ever leave him, especially when the farmer's calling took him anywhere abroad. "about one year after bonny's demise, the farmer began to notice a peculiar numbness in the limbs, but paid little attention to it, thinking that no doubt time--the poor man's physician--would cure it. supper among the peasantry of these northern latitudes is generally laid about half-past six. well, one dark december's day, at the accustomed hour, both the dog and his master were missed from the table. for some time little notice was taken of this, but as time flew by, and the night grew darker, his family began to get exceedingly anxious. "`here comes father at last,' cried little mary, the farmer's daughter. "her remark was occasioned by hearing blucher scraping at the door, and demanding admittance. little mary opened the door, and there stood blucher, sure enough; but although the night was clear and starlight, there wasn't a sign of father. the strange conduct of blucher now attracted mary's attention. he never had much affection for her, or for any one save his master, but now he was speaking to her, as plain as a dog could speak. he was running round her, barking in loud sharp tones, as he gazed into her face, and after every bark pointing out into the night, and vehemently wagging his tail. there was no mistaking such language. any one could understand his meaning. even one of those _strange people, who hate dogs_, would have understood him. mary did, anyhow, and followed blucher at once. on trotted the honest fellow, keeping mary trotting too, and many an anxious glance he cast over his shoulder to her, saying plainly enough, `don't you think you could manage to run just a _leetle_ faster?' through many a devious path he led her, and mary was getting very tired, yet fear for her father kept her up. after a walk, or rather run, of fully half an hour, honest blucher brought the daughter to the father's side. "he was lying on the cold ground, insensible and helpless, struck down by that dreadful disease--paralysis. but for the sagacity and intelligence of his faithful dog, death from cold and exposure would certainly have ended his sufferings ere morning dawned. but blucher's work was not yet over for the night, for no sooner did he see mary kneeling down by her father's side, than he started off home again at full speed, and in less than half an hour was back once more, accompanied by two of the servants. "the rest of this dog's history can be told in very few words, and i am sorry it had so tragic an ending. "during all the illness which supervened on the paralysis, blucher could seldom, if ever, be prevailed on to leave his master's bedside, and every one who approached the patient was eyed with extreme suspicion. i think i have already mentioned that mary was no great favourite with blucher, and mary, if she reads these lines, must excuse me for saying, i believe it was her own fault, for if you are half frightened at a dog he always thinks you harbour some ill-will to him, and would do him an injury if you could. however, one day poor mary came running in great haste to her father's bedside. most incautious haste as it turned out, for the dog sprang up at once and bit her in the leg. for this, honest blucher was _condemned to death_. i think, taking into consideration his former services, and the great love he bore to his afflicted master, he might have been forgiven just for this once. "that his friends afterwards repented of their rashness i do not doubt, for they have erected a monument over his grave. this monument tells how faithfully he served his master, and how he loved him, and saved his life, and although fifty years have passed since its erection, it still stands to mark the spot where faithful blucher lies." chapter nine. tea on the lawn, and the story of a starling. "thy spangled breast bright sprinkled specks adorn, each plume imbibes the rosy-tinted morn." "sit down, frank," said i; "my wife and ida will be here presently. it is so pleasant to have tea out of doors." "yes," said frank, "especially such tea as this. but," he added, fishing a flower-spray from his cup with his spoon, "i do not want jasmine in mine." "good wine needs no bush," i remarked. "nor good tea no scent," said my friend. "although, frank, the chinese do scent some of their souchongs with jasmine, the _jasminum sambuc_." "oh! dear uncle," cried ida, "don't talk latin. maggie the magpie will be doing it next." "ha! ha! ha!" laughed the pie called maggie, who was very busy in the bottom of her cage. i never, by the way, heard any bird or human being laugh in such a cuttingly tantalising way as that magpie did. it was a sneering laugh, which made you feel that the remark you had just made previously was ridiculously absurd. as she laughed she kept on pegging away at whatever she was doing. "go on," she seemed to say. "i am listening to all you are saying, but i really can't help laughing, even with my mouth full. ha! ha! ha!" "well, ida dear," i said, "i certainly shall not talk latin if there be the slightest chance of that impudent bird catching it up. is this better? "`my slight and slender jasmine tree, that bloomest on my border tower, thou art more dearly loved by me than all the wealth of fairy bower. i ask not, while i near thee dwell, arabia's spice or syria's rose; thy light festoons more freshly smell, thy virgin white more freshly glows.'" "and now," said my wife, "what about the story?" "yes, tea and a tale," cried frank. "do you know," i replied, "that the starling is the best of all talking pets? and i do wonder why people don't keep them more often than they do?" "they are difficult to rear, are they not?" "somewhat, frank, when young, as my story will show." "these," i continued, "are some kindly directions i have written about the treatment of these charming birds." "dear me!" cried the magpie. "hold your tongue, maggie," i said, "or you'll go into the house, cage and all." maggie laughed sneeringly, and all throughout the story she kept interrupting me with impudent remarks, which quite spoiled the effect of my eloquence. _the starling's cage_.--this should be as large and as roomy as possible, or else the bird will break his tail and lose other feathers, to the great detriment of his plumage and beauty. the cage may be a wicker-work one, or simply wire, but the bars must not be too wide. however much liberty you allow master dick in your presence, during your absence it will generally be as well to have him inside his dwelling-place; let the fastening of its door, then, be one which he cannot pick. any ordinary wire fastening is of no use; the starling will find the cue to it in a single day. tin dishes for the bird's food will be found best, and they must be well shipped, or else he will speedily tear them down. a large porcelain water fountain should be placed outside the cage; he will try to bathe even in this, and i hardly know how it can be prevented. starlings are very fond of splashing about in the water, and ought to have a bath on the kitchen floor every day, unless you give them a proper bathing cage. after the bath place him in the sun or near the fire to dry and preen himself. _cleanliness_.--this is most essential. the cage and his feeding and drinking utensils should be washed every day. the drawers beneath must be taken out, cleaned, washed, and _dried_ before being put back, and a little rough gravel scattered over the bottom of it. if you would wish your bird to enjoy proper health--and without that he will never be a good speaker or musician--keep all his surroundings dry and sweet, and never leave yesterday's food for to-day's consumption. _food_.--do not give the bird salt food, but a little of anything else that is going can always be allowed him. perhaps bread soaked in water, the water squeezed out, and a little new milk poured over, forms the best staple of diet. but, in addition to this, shreds of raw meat should be given, garden worms, slugs, etc. carry him round the room on your finger, stopping when you see a fly on the wall or a picture-frame, and holding the starling near it. he will thus soon learn to catch his own flies, and take such delight in this kind of stalking that, as soon as he can speak, he will pester you with his importunities to be thus carried round. white fish these birds are very fond of, and also fresh salmon. fruit should be given to them now and then, a fig being considered by them an especial delicacy. a little chickweed or other green food is also relished. this may be placed on the top of the cage. finally starlings, no matter how well you feed them, will not thrive without plenty of exercise. the male bird is the better talker, and more active and saucy, as well as more beautiful and graceful in shape and plumage. be assured the bird is very young before purchasing it. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ my starling "dick." i feel very lonely now since my starling is gone. i could not bear to look upon his empty cage, his bath and playthings, so i have had them all stowed away; but the bird will dwell in my memory for many a day. the way in which that starling managed to insinuate itself into my heart and entwine its affections with mine, i can never rightly tell; and it is only now when it is gone that i really know how much it is possible for a human creature to love a little bird. the creature was nearly always with me, talking to me, whistling to me, or even doing mischief in a small way, to amuse me; and to throw down my pen, straighten my back, and have a romp with "dick," was often the best relaxation i could have had. the rearing of a nest of starlings is always a very difficult task, and i found it peculiarly so. in fact, one young starling would require half-a-dozen servants at least to attend it. i was not master of those starlings, not a bit of it; they were masters of me. i had to get out of bed and stuff them with food at three o'clock every morning. they lived in a bandbox in a closet off my bedroom. i had to get up again at four o'clock to feed them, again at five, and again at six; in fact, i saw more sunrises during the infancy of that nest of starlings than ever i did before or since. by day, and all day long, i stuffed them, and at intervals the servant relieved me of that duty. in fact, it was pretty near all stuffing; but even then they were not satisfied, and made several ineffectual attempts to swallow my finger as well. at length-- and how happy i felt!--they could both feed themselves and fly. this last accomplishment, however, was anything but agreeable to me, for no sooner did i open their door than out they would all come, one after the other, and seat themselves on my head and shoulders, each one trying to make more noise than all the rest and outdo his brothers in din. i got so tired of this sort of thing at last, that one day i determined to set them all at liberty. i accordingly hung their cage outside the window and opened their door, and out they all flew, but back they came into the room again, and settled on me as usual. "then," said i, "i'm going gardening." by the way they clung to me it was evident their answer was: "and so are we." and so they did. and as soon as i commenced operations with the spade they commenced operations too, by searching for and eating every worm i turned up, evidently thinking i was merely working for their benefit and pleasure. i got tired of this. "o bother you all!" i cried; "i'm sick of you." i threw down my spade in disgust; and before they could divine my intention, i had leaped the fence and disappeared in the plantation beyond. "now," said i to myself, as i entered the garden that evening after my return, and could see no signs of starlings, "i'm rid of you plagues at last;" and i smiled with satisfaction. it was short-lived, for just at that moment "skraigh, skraigh, skraigh" sounded from the trees adjoining; and before i could turn foot, my tormentors, seemingly mad with joy, were all sitting on me as usual. two of them died about a week after this; and the others, being cock and hen, i resolved to keep. both dick and his wife soon grew to be very fine birds. i procured them a large roomy cage, with plenty of sand and a layer of straw in the bottom of it, a dish or two, a bath, a drinking fountain, and always a supply of fresh green weeds on the roof of their domicile. besides their usual food of soaked bread, etc, they had slugs occasionally, and flies, and earthworms. once a day the cage-door was thrown open, and out they both would fly with joyful "skraigh" to enjoy the luxury of a bath on the kitchen floor. one would have imagined that, being only two, they would not have stood on the order of their going; but they did, at least dick did, for he insisted upon using the bath first, and his wife had to wait patiently until his lordship had finished. this was part of dick's domestic discipline. when they were both thoroughly wet and draggled, and everything within a radius of two yards was in the same condition, their next move was to hop on to the fender, and flatter and gaze pensively into the fire; and two more melancholy-looking, ragged wretches you never saw. when they began to dry, then they began to dress, and in a few minutes "richard was himself again," and so was his wife. starlings have their own natural song, and a strange noise they make too. their great faculty, however, is the gift of imitation, which they have in a wonderful degree of perfection. the first thing that dick learned to imitate was the rumbling of carts and carriages on the street, and very proud he was of the accomplishment. then he learned to pronounce his own name, with the prefix "pretty," which he never omitted, and to which he was justly entitled. except when sitting on their perch singing or piping, these two little pets were never tired engineering about their cage, and everything was minutely examined. they were perfect adepts at boring holes; by inserting the bill closed, and opening it like a pair of scissors, lo! the thing was done. dick's rule of conduct was that he himself should have the first of everything, and be allowed to examine first into everything, to have the highest perch and all the tit-bits; in a word, to rule, king and priest, in his own cage. i don't suppose he hated his wife, but he kept her in a state of inglorious subjection to his royal will and pleasure. "hezekiah" was the name he gave his wife. i don't know why, but i am sure no one taught him this, for he first used the name himself, and then i merely corrected his pronunciation. sometimes dick would sit himself down to sing a song; and presently his wife would join in with a few simple notes of melody; upon which dick would stop singing instantly, and look round at her with indignation. "hezekiah! hezekiah!" he would say, which being interpreted, clearly meant: "hezekiah, my dear, how can you so far forget yourself as to presume to interrupt your lord and master, with that cracked and quavering voice of yours?" then he would commence anew; and hezekiah being so good-natured, would soon forget her scolding and again join in. this was too much for dick's temper; and hezekiah was accordingly chased round and round the cage and soundly thrashed. his conduct altogether as a husband, i am sorry to say, was very far from satisfactory. i have said he always retained the highest perch for himself; but sometimes he would turn one eye downwards, and seeing hezekiah sitting so cosily and contentedly on her humble perch, would at once conclude that her seat was more comfortable than his; so down he would hop and send her off at once. it was dick's orders that hezekiah should only eat at meal-times; that meant at all times when he chose to feed, _after he was done_. but i suppose his poor wife was often a little hungry in the interim, for she would watch till she got dick fairly into the middle of a song and quite oblivions of surrounding circumstances, then she would hop down and snatch a meal on the sly. but dire was the punishment far the deceit if dick found her out. sometimes i think she used to long for a little love and affection, and at such times she would jump up on the perch beside her husband, and with a fond cry sidle close to him. "hezekiah! hezekiah!" he would exclaim; and if she didn't take that hint, she was soon knocked to the bottom of the cage. in fact, dick was a domestic tyrant, but in all other respects a dear affectionate little pet. one morning dick got out of his cage by undoing the fastening, and flew through the open window, determined to see what the world was like, leaving hezekiah to mourn. it was before five on a summer's morning that he escaped; and i saw no more of him until, coming out of church that day, the people were greatly astonished to see a bird fly down from the steeple and alight upon my shoulder. he retained his perch all the way home. he got so well up to opening the fastening of his cage-door that i had to get a small spring padlock, which defied him, although he studied it for months, and finally gave it up, as being one of those things which no fellow could understand. dick soon began to talk, and before long had quite a large vocabulary of words, which he was never tired using. as he grew very tame, he was allowed to live either out of his cage or in it all day long as he pleased. often he would be out in the garden all alone for hours together, running about catching flies, or sitting up in a tree repeating his lessons to himself, both verbal and musical. the cat and her kittens were his especial favourites, although he used to play with the dogs as well, and often go to sleep on their backs. he took his lessons with great regularity, was an arduous student, and soon learned to pipe "duncan grey" and "the sprig of shillelah" without a single wrong note. i used to whistle these tunes over to him, and it was quite amusing to mark his air of rapt attention as he crouched down to listen. when i had finished, he did not at once begin to try the tune himself, but sat quiet and still for some time, evidently thinking it over in his own mind. in piping it, if he forgot a part of the air, he would cry: "doctor, doctor!" and repeat the last note once or twice, as much as to say: "what comes after that?" and i would finish the tune for him. "tse! tse! tse!" was a favourite exclamation of his, indicative of surprise. when i played a tune on the fiddle to him, he would crouch down with breathless attention. sometimes when he saw me take up the fiddle, he would go at once and peck at hezekiah. i don't know why he did so, unless to secure her keeping quiet. as soon as i had finished he would say "bravo!" with three distinct intonations of the word, thus: "bravo! doctor; br-r-ravo! bra-vo!" dick was extremely inquisitive and must see into everything. he used to annoy the cat very much by opening out her toes, or even her nostrils, to examine; and at times pussy used to lose patience, and pat him on the back. "eh?" he would say. "what is it? you rascal!" if two people were talking together underneath his cage, he would cock his head, lengthen his neck, and looking down quizzingly, say: "eh? _what_ is it? _what_ do you say?" he frequently began a sentence with the verb, "is," putting great emphasis on it. "is?" he would say musingly. "is what, dick?" i would ask. "is," he would repeat--"is the darling starling a pretty pet?" "no question about it," i would answer. he certainly made the best of his vocabulary, for he trotted out all his nouns and all his adjectives time about in pairs, and formed a hundred curious combinations. "_is_," he asked one day, "the darling doctor a rascal?" "just as you think," i replied. "tse! tse! tse! whew! whew! whew!" said dick; and finished off with "duncan grey" and the first half of "the sprig of shillelah." "love is the soul of a nate irishman," he had been taught to say; but it was as frequently, "love is the soul of a nate irish starling;" or, "_is_ love the soul of a darling pretty dick?" and so on. one curious thing is worth noting: he never pronounced my dog's name-- theodore nero--once while awake; but he often startled us at night by calling the dog in clear ringing tones--talking in his sleep. he used to be chattering and singing without intermission all day long; and if ever he was silent then i knew he was doing mischief; and if i went quietly into the kitchen, i was sure to find him either tracing patterns on a bar of soap, or examining and tearing to pieces a parcel of newly-arrived groceries. he was very fond of wines and spirits, but knew when he had enough. he was not permitted to come into the parlour without his cage; but sometimes at dinner, if the door were left ajar, he would silently enter like a little thief; when once fairly in, he would fly on to the table, scream, and defy me. he was very fond of a pretty child that used to come to see me. if matty was lying on the sofa reading, dick would come and sing on her head; then he would go through all the motions of washing and bathing on matty's bonnie hair; which was, i thought, paying her a very pretty compliment. when the sun shone in at my study window, i used to hang dick's cage there, as a treat to him. dick would remain quiet for perhaps twenty minutes, then the stillness would feel irksome to him, and presently he would stretch his head down towards me in a confidential sort of way, and begin to pester me with his silly questions. "doctor," he would commence, "_is_ it, is it a nate irish pet?" "silence, and go asleep," i would make answer. "i want to write." "eh?" he would say. "_what_ is it? _what_ d'ye say?" then, if i didn't answer-- "_is_ it sugar--snails--sugar, snails, and brandy?" then, "doctor, doctor!" "well, dickie, what is it now?" i would answer. "doctor--whew." that meant i was to whistle to him. "shan't," i would say sulkily. "tse! tse! tse!" dickie would say, and continue, "doctor, will you go a-clinking?" i never could resist that. going a-clinking meant going fly-hawking. dick always called a fly a clink; and this invitation i would receive a dozen times a day, and seldom refused. i would open the cage-door, and dick would perch himself on my finger, and i would carry him round the room, holding him up to the flies on the picture-frames. and he never missed one. once dick fell into a bucket of water, and called lustily for the "doctor;" and i was only just in time to save him from a watery grave. when i got him out, he did not speak a word until he had gone to the fire and opened his wings and feathers out to dry, then he said: "bravo! b-r-ravo" several times, and went forthwith and attacked hezekiah. dick had a little travelling cage, for he often had to go with me by train; and no sooner did the train start than dick used to commence to talk and whistle, very much to the astonishment of the passengers, for the bird was up in the umbrella rack. everybody was at once made aware of both my profession and character, for the jolting of the carriage not pleasing him, he used always to prelude his performance with, "doctor, doctor, you r-r-rascal. what _is_ it, eh?" as dick got older, i am sorry, as his biographer, to be compelled to say he grew more and more unkind to his wife--attacked her regularly every morning and the last thing at night, and half-starred her besides. poor hezekiah! she could do nothing in the world to please him. sometimes, now, she used to peck him back again; she was driven to it. i was sorry for hezekiah, and determined to play pretty dick a little trick. so one day, when he had been bullying her worse than ever, i took hezekiah out of the cage, and fastened a small pin to her bill, so as to protrude just a very little way, and returned her. dick walked up to her at once. "what," he wanted to know, "did she mean by going on shore without leave?" hezekiah didn't answer, and accordingly received a dig in the back, then another, then a third; and then hezekiah turned, and let him have one sharp attack. it was very amusing to see how dick jumped, and his look of astonishment as he said: "eh? _what_ d'ye say? hezekiah! hezekiah!" hezekiah followed up her advantage. it was quite a new sensation for her to have the upper hand, and so she courageously chased him round and round the cage, until i opened the door and let dick out. but hezekiah could not live always with a pin tied to her bill; so, for peace' sake, i gave her away to a friend, and dick was left alone in his glory. poor dickie! one day he was shelling peas to himself in the garden, when some boys startled him, and he flew away. i suppose he lost himself, and couldn't find his way back. at all events i only saw him once again. i was going down through an avenue of trees about a mile from the house, when a voice above in a tree hailed me: "doctor! doctor! what _is_ it?" that was dick; but a rook flew past and scared him again, and away he flew--for ever. that same evening, ida, who had been absent for some little time, returned, and shyly handed me a letter. "whom is it from, i wonder, ida," i said; "so late in the evening, too?" "oh, it is from maggie," ida replied. "what!" i exclaimed; "from that impudent bird? well, let us see what she has to say;" and opening the note, i read as follows:-- "dear master,--i fully endorse all you have written about the starling, especially as regards their treatment, and if you had added that they are pert, perky things, you wouldn't have been far out. well, we magpies build our nests of sticks on the tops of tall trees, lining it first with clay, then with grass; our eggs are five in number, and if they weren't so like to a rook's they might be mistaken for a blackbird's. the nests are so big that before the little boys climb up the trees they think they have found a hawk's. in some parts of the country we are looked upon with a kind of superstitious awe. this is nonsense; there is nothing wrong about us; we may bring joy to people, as i do to you, dear doctor, by my gentle loving ways, but we never bring grief. we like solitude, and keep ourselves in the wild state to ourselves. perhaps if we went in flocks, and had as much to say for ourselves as those noisy brutes of rooks, we would be more thought of. even in the domestic state we like our liberty, and think it terribly cruel to be obliged to mope all day long in a wicker cage. it is crueller still to hang us in draughts, or in too strong a sun; while to keep our cage damp and dirty cramps our legs and gives us such twinges of rheumatism in our poor unused wings, that we often long to die and be at rest. "the treatment, doctor, you prescribe for starlings will do nicely for us, and you know how easily we are taught to talk; and i'm sure i _do_ love you, doctor, and haven't i, all for your sake, made friends with your black persian cat and your big newfoundland dog? "no, i'm not a thief; i deny the charge. only if you do leave silver spoons about, and gold pens, and shillings and sixpenny-bits--why--i-- i borrow them, that is all, and you can always find them in maggie's cage. "we can eat all that starlings eat; yes, and a great many things they would turn up their supercilious bills at. but, remember, we do like a little larger allowance of animal food than starlings do. "no more at present, dear doctor, but remains your loving and affectionate magpie, maggie." n.b.--the grammatical error in the last sentence is maggie's, not mine. chapter ten. the life and death of rook toby. "a dewy freshness fills the silent air; no mist obscures, nor cloud, nor speck, nor stain breaks the serene of heaven: in full-orbed glory, yonder moon divine rolls through the dark-blue depths. beneath her steady ray the desert-circle spreads; like the round ocean, girdled with the sky. how beautiful is night?" "it most have been on just such another night as this, frank, that southey penned these lines," i began. "how about the dewy freshness?" said my wife, who is usually more practical than poetic. "don't you think, dear, that ida had better go in?" "oh! no, auntie," cried ida; "i must stay and hear the story. it isn't nine o'clock." "no," frank remarked, "barely nine o'clock, and yet the stars are all out; why, up in the north of scotland people at this season of the year can see to read all night." "how delightful!" cried ida. the nodding lilacs and starry syringas were mingling their perfume in the evening air. "listen," said my wife; "yonder, close by us in the portugal laurel, is the nightingale." "yes," i replied, "but to-morrow morning will find the bird just a trifle farther afield, for some instinct tells him that our dark-haired persian pussy is an epicure in her way, and would prefer philomel to fish for her matutinal meal." i am more convinced than ever that for the first two or three nights after their arrival in this country the nightingales do not go to sleep at all, but sing on all day as well as all night, the marvel being that they do not get hoarse. but after a week the night-song is not nearly so brilliant nor so prolonged, nor does it attain its pristine wild joyfulness until spring once more gilds the fields with buttercups. by day the song is not so noticeable, though ever and anon it sounds high over the babel of other birds' voices. but, of course, the thrush must sing, the blackbird must pipe, and vulgar sparrows bicker and shriek, and talk billingsgate to each other, for sparrows having but little music in their own nature, have just as little appreciation for the gift in others. "look!" cried frank; "yonder goes a bat." "yes," i said, "the bats are abroad every night now in full force. what a wonderful power of flight is theirs; how quickly they can turn and wheel, and how nimbly gyrate!" "i much prefer the martin-swallow," said ida. "we have no more welcome summer, or rather spring visitor, ida, than the martin. "`he twitters on the apple-trees, he hails me at the dawn of day, each morn the recollected proof of time, that swiftly fleets away. fond of sunshine, fond of shade, fond of skies serene and clear, e'en transient storms his joys invade, in fairest seasons of the year.'" "but i must be allowed to say that i object to the word `twitter,' so usually applied to the song of the swallow. it is more than a meaningless twitter. although neither loud nor clear, it is--when heard close at hand--inexpressibly sweet and soft and tender, more so than even that of the linnet, and there are many joyous and happy notes in it, which it is quite delightful to listen to. indeed, hardly any one could attentively observe the song of our domestic martin for any length of time without feeling convinced that the dusky little minstrel was happy--inexpressibly happy. few, perhaps, know that there is a striking similarity between the expressions by sound or, voice of the emotions of all animals in the world, whether birds or beasts, and whether those emotions be those of grief or pain, or joy itself. this is well worth observing, and if you live in the country you will have a thousand chances of doing so. why does the swallow sing in so low a voice? at a little distance you can hardly hear it at all. i have travelled a good deal in forests and jungles and bush lands in africa and the islands about it, and, of course, i always went alone, that is, i never had any visible companion--because only when alone can one enjoy nature, and study the ways and manners of birds and beasts, and i have been struck by the silence of the birds, or, at all events, their absence of song in many of them." "why should that be so, i wonder?" said ida. "probably," said frank, "because the woods where the birds dwell are so full of danger that song would betray their presence, and the result be death. and the same reason may cause the house martins to lower their voices when they give vent to their little notes of tuneful joy." there was a moment's pause: aileen came and put her head in my lap. "she is waiting for the story," said frank. "oh! yes," my wife remarked; "both the dogs are sure to be interested in `toby's' tale." "why?" said frank. "because," my wife replied, "toby was a sheep." here theodore nero must join aileen. the very name or mention of the word "sheep," was sure to make that honest dog wag his tail. "two heads are better than one," i once remarked in his presence. "especially sheep's heads," said the dog. and now for the story. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ toby: the story of a sailor sheep. now toby was a sheep, a sheep of middling size, lightly built, finely limbed, as agile as a deer, with dark intelligent gazelle-like eyes, and a small pair of neatly curled horns, with the points protruding about an inch from his forehead. and his colour was white except on the face, which was slightly darker. it was the good brig _reliance_ of arbroath, and she was bound from cork to galatz, on the banks of the blue danube. all went well with the little ship until she reached the grecian archipelago, and here she was detained by adverse winds and contrary currents, making the passage through among the islands both a dangerous and a difficult one. when the mariners at length reached tenedos, it was found that the current from the dardanelles was running out like a mill-stream, which made it impossible to proceed; and accordingly the anchor was cast, the jolly-boat was lowered, and the captain took the opportunity of going on shore for fresh water, of which they were scarce. having filled his casks, it was only natural for a sailor to long to treat himself to a mess of fresh meat as well as water. he accordingly strolled away through the little town; but soon found that butchers were unknown animals in tenedos. presently, however, a man came up with a sheep, which the captain at once purchased for five shillings. this was toby, with whom, his casks of water, and a large basket of ripe fruit, the skipper returned to his vessel. there happened to be on board this ship a large and rather useless half-bred newfoundland. this dog was the very first to receive the attentions of master toby, for no sooner had he placed foot on deck than he ran full tilt at the poor newfoundland, hitting him square on the ribs and banishing almost every bit of breath from his body. "only a sheep," thought the dog, and flew at toby at once. but toby was too nimble to be caught, and he planted his blows with such force and precision, that at last the poor dog was fain to take to his heels, howling with pain, and closely pursued by toby. the dog only escaped by getting out on to the bowsprit, where of course toby could not follow, but quietly lay down between the knight-heads to wait and watch for him. that same evening the captain was strolling on the quarter-deck eating some grapes, when toby came up to him, and standing on one end, planted his feet on his shoulders, and looked into his face, as much as to say: "i'll have some of those, please." and he was not disappointed, for the captain amicably went shares with toby. toby appeared so grateful for even little favours, and so attached to his new master, that captain brown had not the heart to kill him. he would rather, he thought, go without fresh meat all his life. so toby was installed as ship's pet. ill-fared it then with the poor newfoundland; he was so battered and so cowed, that for dear life's sake he dared not leave his kennel even to take his food. it was determined, therefore, to put an end to the poor fellow's misery, and he was accordingly shot. this may seem cruel, but it was the kindest in the main. now, there was on board the _reliance_ an old irish cook. one morning soon after the arrival of toby, paddy (who had a round bald pate, be it remembered) was bending down over a wooden platter cleaning the vegetables for dinner, when toby took the liberty of insinuating his woolly nose to help himself. the cook naturally enough struck toby on the snout with the flat of the knife and went on with his work. toby backed astern at once; a blow he never could and never did receive without taking vengeance. besides, he imagined, no doubt, that holding down his bald head as he did, the cook was desirous of trying the strength of their respective skulls. when he had backed astern sufficiently for his purpose, toby gave a spring; the two heads came into violent collision, and down rolled poor paddy on the deck. then toby coolly finished all the vegetables, and walked off as if nothing had happened out of the usual. toby's hatred of the whole canine race was invincible. while the vessel lay at galatz she was kept in quarantine, and there was only one small platform, about four hundred yards long by fifty wide, on which the captain or crew of the _reliance_ could land. this was surrounded by high walls on three sides, one side being the pe'latoria, at which all business with the outside world was transacted through gratings. inside, however, there were a few fruit-stalls. crowds used to congregate here every morning to watch toby's capers, and admire the nimbleness with which he used to rob the fruit-stalls and levy blackmail from the vegetable vendors. one day when the captain and his pet were taking their usual walk on this promenade, there came on shore the skipper of a falmouth ship, accompanied by a large formidable-looking dog. and the dog only resembled his master, as you observe dogs usually do. as soon as he saw toby he commenced to hunt his dog upon him; but toby had seen him coming and was quite _en garde_; so a long and fierce battle ensued, in which toby was slightly wounded and the dog's head was severely cut. quite a multitude had assembled to witness the fight, and the ships' riggings were alive with sailors. at one time the brutal owner of the dog, seeing his pet getting worsted, attempted to assist him; but the crowd would have pitched him neck and crop into the river, had he not desisted. at last both dog and sheep were exhausted and drew off, as if by mutual consent. the dog seated himself close to the outer edge of the platform, which was about three feet higher than the river's bank, and toby went, as he was wont to do, and stood between his master's legs, resting his head fondly on the captain's clasped hands, but never took his eyes off the foe. just then a dog on board one of the ships happened to bark, and the falmouth dog looked round. this was toby's chance, and he did not miss it nor his enemy either. he was upon him like a bolt from a catapult. one furious blow knocked the dog off the platform, next moment toby had leaped on top of him, and was chasing the yelling animal towards his own ship. there is no doubt toby would have crossed the plank and followed him on board, had not his feet slipped and precipitated him into the river. a few minutes afterwards, when toby, dripping with wet, returned to the platform to look for his master, he was greeted with ringing cheers; and many was the plaster spent in treating toby to fruit. toby was the hero of galatz from that hour; but the falmouth dog never ventured on shore again, and his master as seldom as possible. on her downward voyage, when the vessel reached selina, at the mouth of the river, it became necessary to lighten her in order to get her over the bar. this took some time, and toby's master frequently had to go on shore; but toby himself was not permitted to accompany him, on account of the filth and muddiness of the place. when the captain wished to return he came down to the river-side and hailed the ship to send a boat. and poor toby was always on the watch for his master if no one else was. he used to place his fore-feet on the bulwarks and bleat loudly towards the shore, as much as to say: "i see you, master, and you'll have a boat in a brace of shakes." then if no one was on deck, toby would at once proceed to rouse all hands fore and aft. if the mate, mr gilbert, pretended to be asleep on a locker, he would fairly roll him off on to the deck. toby was revengeful to a degree, and if any one struck him, he would wait his chance, even if for days, to pay him out with interest in his own coin. he was at first very jealous of two little pigs which were bought as companions to him; but latterly he grew very fond of them, and as they soon got very fat, toby used to roll them along the deck like a couple of footballs. there were two parties on board that toby did not like, or rather that he liked to annoy whenever he got the chance, namely, the cook and the cat. he used to cheat the former and chase the latter on every possible occasion. if his master took pussy and sat down with her on his knee, toby would at once commence to strike her off with his head. finding that she was so soft and yielding that this did not hurt her, he would then lift his fore-foot and attempt to strike her down with that; failing in that, he would bite viciously at her; and if the captain laughed at him, then all toby's vengeance would be wreaked on his master. but after a little scene like this, toby would always come and coax for forgiveness. toby was taught a great many tricks, among others to leap backward and forward through a life-buoy. when his hay and fresh provisions went down, toby would eat pea-soup, invariably slobbering all his face in so doing, and even pick a bone like a dog. he was likewise very fond of boiled rice, and his drink was water, although he preferred porter and ale; but while allowing him a reasonable quantity of beer, the captain never encouraged him in the nasty habit the sailors had taught him of chewing tobacco. it is supposed that some animals have a prescience of coming storms. toby used to go regularly to the bulwarks every night, and placing his feet against them sniff all around him. if content, he would go and lie down and fall fast asleep; but it was a sure sign of bad weather coming before morning, when toby kept wandering among his master's feet and would not go to rest. pea-soup and pork-bones are scarcely to be considered the correct food for a sheep, and so it is hardly to be wondered at that toby got very thin before the vessel reached falmouth. once toby was in a hotel coffee-room with his master and a friend of the latter's, when instead of calling for two glasses of beer, the captain called for three. "is the extra glass for yourself or for me?" asked his friend. the extra glass was for toby, who soon became the subject of general conversation. "i warrant noo," said a north-country skipper, "that thing would kick up a bonnie shine if you were to gang oot and leave him." "would you like to try him?" replied captain brown. "i would," said the scot, "vera muckle." accordingly toby was imprisoned in one corner of the room, where he was firmly held by the scotch skipper; and captain brown, after giving toby a glance which meant a great deal, left the room. no sooner had he gone than toby struggled clear of the scotchman, and took the nearest route for the door. this necessitated his jumping on to the middle of the table, and here toby missed his footing and fell, kicking over glasses, decanters, and pewter pots by the half-dozen. he next floored a half-drunken fellow, over whose head he tried to spring, and so secured his escape, and left the scotch skipper to pay the bill. one day captain brown was going up the steps of the custom-house, when he found that not only toby but toby's two pigs were following close at his heels. he turned round to drive them all back; but toby never thought for a moment that his master meant that _he_ should return. "it is these two awkward creatures of pigs," thought toby, "that master can't bear the sight of." so toby went to work at once, and first rolled one piggie downstairs, then went up and rolled the other piggie downstairs; but the one piggie always got to the top of the stairs again by the time his brother piggie was rolled down to the bottom. thinking that as far as appearances went, toby had his work cut out for the next half-hour, his master entered the custom-house. but toby and his friends soon found some more congenial employment; and when captain brown returned, he found them all together in an outer room, dancing about with the remains of a new mat about their necks, which they had just succeeded in tearing to pieces. their practical jokes cost the captain some money one way or another. one day the three friends made a combined attack on a woman who was carrying a young pig in a sack; this little pig happened to squeak, when toby and his pigs went to the rescue. they tore the woman's dress to atoms and delivered the little pig. toby was very much addicted to describing the arc of a circle; that was all very good when it was merely a fence he was flying over, but when it happened that a window was in the centre of the arc, then it came rather hard on the captain's pocket. in order to enable him to pick up a little after his long voyage, toby was sent to country lodgings at a farmer's. but barely a week had elapsed when the farmer sent him back again with his compliments, saying that he would not keep him for his weight in gold. he led his, the farmer's, sheep into all sorts of mischief that they had never dreamed of before, and he defied the dogs, and half-killed one or two of them. toby returned like himself, for when he saw his master in the distance he baa-ed aloud for joy, and flew towards him like a wild thing, dragging the poor boy in the mud behind him. toby next took out emigrants to new york, and was constantly employed all day in sending the steerage passengers off the quarter-deck. he never hurt the children, however, but contented himself by tumbling them along the deck and stealing their bread-and-butter. from new york toby went to saint stephens. there a dog flew out and bit captain brown in the leg. it was a dear bite, however, for the dog, for toby caught him in the act, and hardly left life enough in him to crawl away. at saint stephens toby was shorn, the weather being oppressively hot. no greater insult could have been offered him. his anger and chagrin were quite ludicrous to witness. he examined himself a dozen times, and every time he looked round and saw his naked back he tried to run away from himself. he must have thought with the wee "wifiekie comin' frae the fair--this is no me surely, this is no me." but when his master, highly amused at his antics, attempted to add insult to injury by pointing his finger at him and laughing him to scorn, toby's wrath knew no bounds, and he attacked the captain on the spot. he managed, however, to elude the blow, and toby walked on shore in a pet. whether it was that he was ashamed of his ridiculous appearance, or of attempting to strike his kind master in anger, cannot be known, but for three days and nights toby never appeared, and the captain was very wretched indeed. but when he did return, he was so exceedingly penitent and so loving and coaxing that he was forgiven on the spot. when toby arrived with his vessel in queen's dock, liverpool, on a rainy morning, some nice fresh hay was brought on board. this was a great treat for toby, and after he had eaten his fill, he thought he could not do better than sleep among it, which thought he immediately transmuted to action, covering himself all up except the head. by-and-by the owner of the ship came on board, and taking a survey of things in general, he spied toby's head. "hollo!" he said, "what's that?" striking toby's nose with his umbrella. "stuffed, isn't it?" stuffed or not stuffed, there was a stuffed body behind it, as the owner soon knew to his cost, and a spirit that never brooked a blow, for next moment he found himself lying on his back with his legs waggling in the air in the most expressive manner, while toby stood triumphantly over him waiting to repeat the dose if required. the following anecdote shows toby's reasoning powers. he was standing one day near the dockyard foreman's house, when the dinner bell rang, and just at the same time a servant came out with a piece of bread for toby. every day after this, as soon as the same bell rang--"that calls me," said toby to himself, and off he would trot to the foreman's door. if the door was not at once opened he used to knock with his head; and he would knock and knock again until the servant, for peace' sake, presented him with a slice of bread. and now toby's tale draws near its close. the owner never forgave that blow, and one day coming by chance across the following entry in the ship's books, "tenedos--to one sheep, five shillings," he immediately claimed toby as his rightful property. it was all in vain that the captain begged hard for his poor pet, and even offered ten times his nominal value for him. the owner was deaf to all entreaties and obdurate. so the two friends were parted. toby was sent a long way into the country to carnoustie, to amuse some of the owner's children, who were at school there. but the sequel shows how very deeply and dearly even a sheep can love a kind-hearted master. after the captain left him, poor toby refused all food and _died of grief in one week's time_. chapter eleven. a bird-haunted lawn in june--pets of my early years. "go, beautiful and gentle dove! but whither wilt thou go? for though the clouds tide high above. how sad and waste is all below. "the dove flies on. in lonely flight she flies from dawn to dark; and now, amidst the gloom of night, comes weary to the ark. `oh! let me in,' she seems to say, `for long and lone has been my way; oh! once more, gentle mistress, let me rest and dry my dripping plumage on thy breast.'" rev w. bowles. there is a kind of semi-wildness about our back lawn that a great many people profess to admire. it stretches downwards from my indoor study, from where the french windows open on to the trellised verandah, which in this sweet month of june, as i write, is all a smother of roses. the walk winds downwards well to one side, and not far from a massive hedge, but this hedge is hidden from view for the most part by a ragged row of trees. the portuguese laurel, tasselled with charming white bloom at present, but otherwise an immense globe of green (you might swing a hammock inside it and no one know you were there), comes first; then tall, dark-needled austrian pines, their branches trailing on the grass, with hazels, lilacs, and elders, the latter now in bloom. the lawn proper has it pretty much to itself, with the exception of the flower-beds, the rose-standards, and a sprinkling of youthful pines, and it is bounded on the other side by a tall privet hedge--that, too, is all bedecked in bloom. on the other ride of this hedge the view is shut in to some extent by tapering cypress trees, elms, and oaks, but here and there you catch glimpses of the hills and the lovely country beyond. along this hedge, at present, wallflowers, and scarlet and white and pink-belled foxgloves are blooming. if you go along the winding pathway, past the bonnie nook--where is now the grave of my dear old favourite newfoundland [the well-known champion, theodore nero]--and if you obstinately refuse to be coaxed by a forward wee side-path into a cool, green grotto, canopied with ivy and lilacs, you will land--nowhere you would imagine at first, but on pushing boughs aside you find a gate, which, supposing you had the key, would lead you out into open country, with the valley of the thames, stretching from west to east, about a mile distant, and the grand old wooded hills, blue with the softening mist of distance, beyond that. but the lower part of the lawn near that hidden gate is bounded by a bank of glorious foliage--rhododendrons, syringas, trailing roses, and hero-laurels in front, with ash, laburnum, and tall holly trees behind. it may not be right to allow brambles to creep through this bank; nor raspberries, with their drooping cane-work; nor blue-eyed, creeping belladonna; but i like it. i dearly love to see things where you least expect them; to find roses peeping through hedgerows, strawberries building their nests at the foot of gooseberry clumps, and clusters of yellow or red luscious raspberries peeping out from the midst of rhododendron banks, as if fairy fingers were holding them up to view. i'm not sure that the grass on this pet lawn of mine, is always kept so cleanly shaven as some folks might wish, but for my own part i like it snowed over with daisies and white clover; and, what is more to the point, the birds and the bees like it. indeed, the lawn is little more than a vast outdoor aviary--it is a bird-haunted lawn. there is a rough, shallow bath under a tree at the end of it, and here the blackbirds, thrushes, and starlings come to splash early in the morning, and stare up at my window as i dress, as coolly as if they had not been all up in the orchard trees breakfasting off the red-heart cherries. i have come now, after a lapse of four years, to believe that those cherries belong to the birds and not to me, just as a considerable number of pounds of the greengages belong to the wasps. the nightingales hop around the lawn all day, but they do not bathe, and they do not sing now; they devour terribly long earthworms instead. in the sweet spring-time, in the days of their wooing, they did nothing but sing, and they never slept. now all is changed, and they do little else save sleep and eat. there are wild pigeons build here, though it is close to two roads, and i see turtle-doves on the lawn every day. "did you commence the study of natural history at an early age, gordon?" said frank to me one evening, as we all sat together on this lawn. "in a practical kind of a way, yes, frank," i replied, "and if i live for the next ten thousand years i may make some considerable progress in this study. _ars longa vita brevia est_, frank." "true; and now," he continued, "spin us a yarn or two about some of the pets you have had." "well, frank," i replied, "as you ask me in that off-hand way, you must be content to take my reminiscences in an off-hand way, too." "we will," said frank; "won't we, ida?" ida nodded. "given a pen and put in a corner, frank, i can tell a story as well as my neighbours, but the _extempore_ business floors me. i'm shy, frank, shy. another cup of tea, dot--thank you--ahem!" ------------------------------------------------------------------------ pets of my early years. there was no school within about three miles of a property my father bought when i was a little over two years of age. with some help from the neighbours my father built a school, which i believe is now endowed, but at that time it was principally supported by voluntary contributions. i was sent there as a first instalment. i was an involuntary contribution. nurse carried me there every morning, but i always managed to walk coming back. by sending a child of tender years to a day-school, negative rather than positive good was all that was expected, for my mother frankly confessed that i was only sent to keep me out of mischief. the first few days of my school life flew past quickly enough, for my teacher, a little hunchback, be it remembered, whom you may know by the name of dominie w--, was very kind to me, candied me and lollipopped me, and i thought it grand fun to sit all day on my little stool, turning over the pages of picture-books, and looking at the other boys getting thrashed. this latter part indeed was the best to me, for the little fellows used to screw their miserable visages so, and make such funny faces, that i laughed and crowed with delight. but i didn't like it when it came to my own turn. and here is how that occurred:--there was a large pictorial map that hung on the schoolroom wall, covered with delineations of all sorts of wild beasts. these were pointed out to the bible-class one by one, and a short lecture given on the habits of each, which the boys and girls were supposed to retain in their memories, and retail again when asked to. one day, however, the dromedary became a stumbling-block to all the class; not one of them could remember the name of the beast. "did ever i see such a parcel of numskulls?" said dominie w--. "why, i believe that child there could tell you." i felt sure i could, and intimated as much. "what is it, then, my dear?" said my teacher encouragingly. "speak out, and shame the dunces." i did speak out, and with appalling effect. "it's a schoolmaster," i said. "a what?" roared the dominie. "a schoolmaster," i said, more emphatically; "it has a hump on its back." i didn't mean to be rude, but i naturally imagined that the hump was the badge of the scholastic calling, and that the dromedary was dominie among the beasts. "oh! indeed," said dominie w--; "well, you just wait there a minute, and i'll make a hump on your back." and he moved off towards the desk for the strap. as i didn't want a hump on my back, instant flight suggested itself to me, as the only way of meeting the difficulty; so i made tracks for the door forthwith. "hold him, catch him!" cried the dominie, and a big boy seized me by the skirt of my dress. but i had the presence of mind to meet my teeth in the fleshy part of the lad's hand; then i was free to flee. down the avenue i ran as fast as two diminutive shanks could carry me, but i had still a hundred yards to run, and capture seemed inevitable, for the dominie was gaining on me fast. but help was most unexpectedly at hand, for, to my great joy, our pet bull-terrier, "danger," suddenly put in an appearance. the dog seemed to take in the whole situation at a glance, and it was now the dominie's turn to shake in his shoes. and danger went for him in grand style, too. i don't know that he hurt him very much, but to have to return to school with five-and-thirty pounds of pure-bred bull-terrier hanging to one's hump, cannot be very grateful to one's feelings. i was not sent to that seminary any more for a year, but it dawned upon me even thus early that dogs have their uses. when i was a year or two older i had as a companion and pet a black-and-tan terrier called "tip," and a dear good-hearted game little fellow he was; and he and i were always of the same mind, full of fan and fond of mischief. tip could fetch and carry almost anything; a loose railway rug, for example, would be a deal heavier than he, but if told he would drag one up three flights of stairs walking backwards. again, if you showed him anything, and then hid it, he would find it wherever it was. he was not on friendly terms with the cat though; she used him shamefully, and finding him one day in a room by himself she whacked him through the open window, and tip fell two storeys. dead? no. tip fell on his feet. one day tip was a long time absent, and when he came into the garden he came up to me and placed a large round ball all covered with thorns at my feet. "whatever is it, tip?" i asked. "that's a hoggie," said tip, "and ain't my mouth sore just." i put down my hands to lift it up, and drew them back with pricked and bleeding fingers. then i shrieked, and nursie came running out, and shook me, and whacked me on the back as if i had swallowed a bone. that's how she generally served me. "what is it now?" she cried; "you're never out of mischief; did tip bite you?" "no, no," i whimpered, "the beastie bited me." then i had three pets for many a day, tip and the cat and the hedgehog, who grew very tame indeed. maggie hay was nursie's name. i was usually packed off to bed early in the evening, and got the cat with me, and in due time maggie came. but one night the cat and i quarrelled, so i slipped out of bed, and crept quietly down to the back kitchen, and returned with my hoggie in the front of my nightdress, and went back to my couch. i was just in that blissful state of independence, between sleeping and waking, when maggie came upstairs to bed. the hoggie had crept out of my arms, and had gone goodness knows whither, and i didn't care, but i know this much, that maggie had no sooner got in and laid down, than she gave vent to a loud scream, and sprang on to the floor again, and stood shaking and shivering like a ghost in the moonlight. i suppose she had laid herself down right on top of my hoggie, and hoggie not being used to such treatment had doubtless got its spines up at once. i leave you to guess whether maggie gave me a shaking or not. this pet lived for three long happy months, and its food was porridge and milk, morsels of green food, and beetles, which it caught on its own account. but i suppose it longed for its old gipsy life in the green fields, and missed the tender herbs and juicy slugs it had been wont to gather by the foot of the hedgerows. i don't know, but one morning i found my poor hoggie rolled up in a little ball with one leg sticking out; it was dead and stiff. maggie took it solemnly up by that one leg as if it had been a handle and carried it away and buried it; then she came back with her eyes wet and kissed me, and gave me a large--very large--slice of bread with an extra allowance of treacle on it. but there seemed to be a big lump in my throat; i tried hard to eat, but failed miserably, only--i managed to lick the treacle off. my little friend tip was of a very inquiring turn of mind, and this trait in his character led to his miserable end. one day some men were blasting stones in a neighbouring field, and tip seeing what he took to be a rat's tail sticking out of a stone, and a thin wreath of blue smoke curling up out of it, went to investigate. he did not come back to tell tales; he was carried on high with the hurtling stones and _debris_, and i never saw my poor tip any more. chapter twelve. early studies in natural history. "within a bush her covert nest a little birdie fondly prest; the dew sat chilly on her breast, sae early in the morning." burns. shortly after the melancholy death of tip, some one presented me with a puppy, and some one else presented me with a rook. my knowledge of natural history was thus progressing. that unhappy pup took the distemper and died. if treated for the dire complaint at all, it was no doubt after the rough and harsh fashion, common, till very lately, of battling with it. so my puppy died. as to the rook, a quicker fate was reserved for him. the bird and i soon grew as thick as thieves. he was a very affectionate old chap, and slept at night in a starling's cage in the bedroom. he was likewise a somewhat noisy bird, and very self-asserting, and would never allow us to sleep a wink after five in the morning. maggie tried putting his breakfast into the cage the night before. this only made matters worse, for he got up at three o'clock to eat it, and was quite prepared for another at five. maggie said she loved the bird, because he saved her so many scoldings by wakening her so punctually every morning. i should think he did waken her, with a vengeance too. he had a peculiar way of roaring "caw! caw!" that would have wakened rip van winkle himself. like the great highland bagpipe, the voice of a healthy rook sounds very well about a mile off, but it isn't exactly the thing for indoor delectation. but my uncle sat down upon my poor rook one day, and the bird gave vent to one last "caw!" and was heard again--nevermore. my mother told him he ought to be more careful. my uncle sat down on the same chair again next day, and, somehow, a pin went into him further than was pleasant. then i told him he ought to be more careful, and he boxed my ears, and i bit him, and nursie came and shook me and whacked me on the back as if i had been choking; so, on the whole, i think i was rather roughly dealt with between the two of them. however, i took it out of maggie in another way, and found her very necessary and handy in my study of natural history, which, even at this early age, i had developed a taste for. i had as a plaything a small wooden church, which i fondled all day, and took to bed with me at night. one fine day i had an adventure with a wasp which taught me a lesson. i had half-filled my little church with flies to represent a congregation, but as they wouldn't sing unless i shook them, and as maggie told me nobody ever shook a real church to make the congregation sing, i concluded it was a parson they lacked, and went to catch a large yellow fly, which i saw on the window-ledge. _he_ would make them sing i had no doubt. well, he made me sing, anyhow. it was long before i forgot the agony inflicted by that sting. maggie came flying towards me, and i hurled church, congregation, and all at her head, and went off into a first-class fit. but this taught me a lesson, and i never again interfered with any animal or insect, until i had first discovered what their powers of retaliation were; beetles and flies were old favourites, whose attendance at church i compelled. i wasn't sure of the earthworm at first, nor of the hairy caterpillar, but a happy thought struck me, and, managing to secure a specimen of each, and holding them in a tea-cup, i watched my chance, and when nursie wasn't looking emptied them both down her back. when the poor girl wriggled and shrieked with horror, i looked calmly on like a young stoic, and asked her did they bite. finding they didn't, they became especial favourites with me. i put every new specimen i found, instantly or on the first chance, down poor maggie's back or bosom, and thus, day by day, while i increased in stature, day by day i grew in knowledge. i wasn't quite successful once, however, with a centipede. i had been prospecting, as the yankees say, around the garden, searching for specimens, and i found this chap under a stone. he was about as long as a penholder, and had apparently as many legs as a legion of the black watch. under these circumstances, thinks i to myself what a capital parson he'll make. so i dismissed all my congregation on the spot, and placed the empty church at his disposal, with the door thereof most invitingly open, but he wouldn't hear of going in. perhaps, thought i, he imagines the church isn't long enough to hold him, so i determined, for his own comfort, to cut him in two with my egg-cup, then i could capture first one end of him, and then the other, and empty them down nursie's back, and await results. but, woe is me! i had no sooner commenced operations than the ungrateful beast wheeled upwards round my finger and bit it well. i went away to mourn. when nine years old my opportunities for studying birds and beasts were greatly increased, for, luckily for me, the teacher of my father's school nearly flogged the life out of me. it might have been more lucky still had he finished the job. however, this man was a bit of a dandy in his way, and was very proud of his school. and one fine day who should walk in at the open doorway but "davy," my pet lamb. as soon as he spied me he gave vent to a joyful "ba-a!" and as there was a table between us, and he couldn't reach me, he commenced to dance in front of it. "good gracious!" cried the teacher, "a sheep of all things in my school, and positively dancing." on rushing to save my pet, whom he began belabouring with a cane, the man turned all his fury on me, with the above gratifying result. i was sent to a far-off seminary after this. three miles was a long distance for a child to walk to school over a rough country. it was rough but beautiful, hill and dale, healthy moorlands, and pine woods. it was glorious in summer, but when the snows of winter fell and the roads were blocked, it was not quite so agreeable. i commenced forthwith, however, to make acquaintance with every living thing, whether it were a creepie-creepie living under a stone, or a bull in the fields. my pets, by the way, were a bull, that i played with as a calf, and could master when old and red-eyed and fierce, half a dozen dogs, and a peacock belonging to a farmer. this bird used to meet me every morning, not for crumbs--he never would eat--but for kind words and caresses. the wild birds were my especial favourites. i knew them all, and all about them, their haunts, their nests, their plumage, and eggs and habits of life. i lived as much in trees as on the ground, used to study in trees, and often fell asleep aloft, to the great danger of my neck. i do not think i was ever cruel--intentionally, at all events--to any bird or creature under my care, but i confess to having sometimes taken a young bird from the nest to make a pet of. i myself, when a little boy, have often sat for half an hour at a time swinging on the topmost branches of a tall fir-tree, with my waistcoat pocket filled with garden worms, watching the ways and motions of a nest of young rooks, and probably i would have to repeat my aerial visit more than once before i could quite make up my mind which to choose. i always took the sauciest, noisiest young rascal of the lot, and i was never mistaken in my choice. is it not cruelty on my part, you may inquire, to counsel the robbery of a rook's nest? well, there are the feelings of the parent birds to be considered, i grant you, but when you take two from five you leave three, and i do not think the rooks mourn many minutes for the missing ones. an attempt was made once upon a time to prove that rooks can't count farther than three. thus: an ambush was erected in the midst of a potato field, where rooks were in the habit of assembling in their dusky thousands. when into this ambush there entered one man, or two men, or three men, the gentlemen in black quietly waited until the last man came forth before commencing to dig for potatoes, but when four men entered and _three_ came out, the rooks were satisfied and went to dinner at once. but i feel sure this rule of three does not hold good as far as their young ones are concerned. i know for certain that either cats or dogs will miss an absentee from a litter of even six or more. books are very affectionate towards their owners, very tricky and highly amusing. they are great thieves, but they steal in such a funny way that you cannot be angry with them. chapter thirteen. all about my bird pets. "ye ken where yon wee burnie, love, runs roarin' to the sea, and tumbles o'er its rocky bed like spirit wild and free. the mellow mavis tunes his lay, the blackbird swells his note, and little robin sweetly sings above the woody grot." w. cameron. "the gladsome lark o'er moor and fell, the lintie in the bosky dell, no blither than your bonnie sel', my ain, my artless mary." idem. scottish poets cannot keep birds out of their love-songs any more than they can the gloaming star, the bloom of flowers, the scent of golden gorse, or soft winds sighing through woods in summer. and well may the lovely wee linnet be compared to a young and artless maiden, so good and innocent, so gentle and unobtrusive is the bird, and yet withal so blithe. nor could a better pet be found for girls of a quiet, retiring disposition than the linnet. some call it a shy bird. this hardly coincides with my own experience, and i dearly like to study the characters of birds and animals of all kinds, and have often discovered something to love and admire even in the wildest beasts that ever roamed o'er prairie or roared in jungle. no, the linnet is not shy, but he is unostentatious; he seems to have the tact to know when a little music would be appreciated, and is by no means loath to trill his sweet song. he is also most affectionate, and if his mistress be but moderately kind to him, he may _like_ other people well enough, but he will _love_ but her alone, and will often and often pipe forth a few bars, in so low a key that she cannot but perceive they are meant for her ear only. even in the wild state the rose-linnet courts retirement. thinking about this bird brings me back once more to the days of my boyhood. i am a tiny, tiny lad trudging home from the distant day-school, over a wide, wild moorland with about a stone of books--greek and latin classics and lexicons--in a leather strap over my shoulder. i am--as i ever wished to be--alone. that is, i have no human companionship. but i have that of the wild birds, and the thousand and one wild creatures that inhabit this great stretch of heathy wold, and i fancy they all know me, from yonder hawk poised high in the air to the merlin that sings on a branch of broom; from the wily fox or fierce polecat to the wee mouse that nestles among the withered grass. i have about a score of nests to pay a visit to--the great long-winged screaming whaup's (curlew's) among the rushes; the mire-snipe's and wild duck's near the marsh; the water-hen's, with her charming red eggs, near the streamlet; the peewit's on the knoll; the stonechat's, with eggs of milky blue, in the cairn; the laverock's, the woodlark's, and the wagtail's, and last, but not least, the titlin's nest, with the cuckoo's egg in it. but i linger but a short time at any of these to-day, for on my way to school i saw a rose-linnet singing on a thorn, and have been thinking about it all day. i have been three times thrashed for cicero, and condemned to detention for two hours after my schoolmates are gone. i have escaped through the window, however. i shall be thrashed for this in the morning, but i should be thrashed for something, at all events, so that matters nothing. the sun is still high in the heavens, summer days are long, i'll go and look for my linnet's nest; i haven't seen one this year yet. the heather is green as yet, and here and there on the moorland is a bush or patch of golden furze, not tall and straggling like the bushes you find in woods, that seem to stretch out their necks as if seeking in vain for the sunlight, but close, compact, hugging the ground, and seeming to weigh down the warm summer air around it with the sweetness of its perfume. now, on one of those very bushes, and on the highest twig thereof, i find my cock linnet. his head is held well up, and his little throat swells and throbs with his sweet, melodious song. but i know this is all tact on the bird's part, and that his heart beats quick with fear as he sees me wandering searchingly from bush to bush. he is trying to look unconcerned. he saw me coming, and enjoined his pretty mate to lie close and not fly out, assuring her that if she did so all would be well. he does not even fly away at my approach. "there is no nest of mine anywhere near," he seems to say. "is it likely i would be singing so blithely if there were?" "ah! but," i reply, "i feel sure there is, else why are you dressed so gaily? why have you cast aside your sombre hues and donned that crimson vest?" pop--i am at the right bush now, and out flies the modest wee female linnet. she had forgotten all her mate told her, she was so frightened she could not lie close. and now i lift a branch and keek in, and am well rewarded. a prettier sight than that little nest affords, to any one fond of birds, cannot easily be conceived. it is not a large one; the outside of it is built of knitted grass and withered weeds, and on the whole it is neat; but inside it is the perfection of beauty and rotundity, and softly and warmly lined with hair of horse and cow, with a few small feathers beneath, to give it extra cosiness. and the eggs-- how beautiful! books simply tell you they are white, dotted, and speckled with red. they are more than this; the groundwork is white, to be sure, but it looks as if the markings were traced by the angers of some artist fay. it looks as though the fairy artist had been trying to sketch upon them the map of some strange land, for here are blood-red lakes--square, or round, or oval--and rivers running into them and rivers rolling out, so that having once seen a rose-linnet's egg, you could never mistake it for any other. "i think," said ida, "i should like a linnet, if i knew how to treat it." "well," i continued, "let me give you a little advice. i have interested you in this bonnie bird, let me tell you then how you are to treat him if you happen to get one, so as to make him perfectly happy, with a happiness that will be reflected upon you, his mistress." i always counsel any one who has a pet of any kind to be in a manner jealous of it, for one person is enough to feed and tend it, and that person should be its owner. of course, if you mean to have one as a companion you will procure a male bird, and one as pretty as possible, but even those less bright in colour sing well. let his cage be a square or long one, and just as roomy as you please; birds in confinement cannot have too much space to move about in. keep the cage exceedingly clean and free from damp, give the bird fresh water every morning, and see that he has a due allowance of clean dry seed. the food is principally canary-seed with some rape in it, and a small portion of flax; but although you may now and then give him a portion of bruised hemp seed, be careful and remember hemp is both stimulating and over-fattening. many a bird gets enlargement of the liver, and heart disease and consequent asthma, from eating too freely and often of hemp. in summer it should never be given, but in cold weather it is less harmful. green food should not be forgotten. the best is chic-weed--ripe--and groundsel, with--when you can get it--a little watercress. there are many seedling weeds which you may find in your walks by the wayside, which you may bring home to your lintie. if you make a practice of doing this, he will evince double the joy and pleasure at seeing you on your return. never leave any green food longer than a day either in or over the cage. so shall your pet be healthy, and live for many years to give you comfort with his sweet fond voice. i may just mention that the linnet will learn the song of some other birds, notably that of the woodlark. sea-sand may be put in the bottom of the cage, and when the bird begins to lose its feathers and moult, be extra kind and careful with it, covering the cage partly over, and taking care to keep away draughts. after the feathers begin to come you may put a rusty nail in the water. this is a tonic, but i do not believe in giving it too soon. let me now say a word about another of my boyhood's pets--the robin. but i hardly know where or how i am to begin, nor am i sure that my theme will not run right away with me when i do commence. my winged horse--my pegasus--must be kept well in hand while speaking about my little favourite, the robin. happy thought, however! i will tell you nothing i think you know already. the robin, then, like the domestic cat, is too well known to need description. we who live in the country have him with us all the year round, and we know his charming song wherever we hear it. he may seem to desert our habitations for a few months in the early spring-time, for he is then very busy, having all the care and responsibility of a family on his head; but he is not far away. he is only in the neighbouring grove or orchard, and if we pay him a visit there he will sing to us very pleasantly, as if glad to see us. and one fine morning we find him on the lawn-gate again, bobbing and becking to us, and looking as proud as a pasha because he has his little wife and three of the family with him. his wife is not a jenny wren, as some suppose, but a lovely wee robin just like himself, only a trifle smaller, and not quite so red on the breast nor so bold as her partner. and the young ones, what charmingly innocent little things they look, with their broad beaks and their apologies for tails! i have often known them taken for juvenile thrushes, because their breasts are not red, but a kind of yellow with speckles in it. "tcheet, tcheet!" cries robin, on the gate, bobbing at you again; "throw out some crumbs. my wife is a bit shy; she has never been much in society; but just see how the young ones can eat." well, robin is one of the earliest birds of a morning that i know. he is up long before the bickering sparrows, and eke before the mavis. his song mingles with your morning dreams, and finally wakes you to the joys and duties of another day, and if you peep out at the window you will probably see him on the lawn, hauling some unhappy worm out of its hole. i have seen robin get hold of too big a worm, and, after pulling a piece of it out as long as a penholder, fly away with a frightened "tcheet, tcheet!" as much as to say, "dear me! i didn't know there were yards and yards of you. you must be a snake or something." robin sings quite late at night too, long after the mavis is mute and every other bird has retired. and all day long in autumn he sings. during the winter months, especially if there be snow on the ground, he comes boldly to the window-ledge, and doesn't ask, but demands his food, as brazenly as a german bandsman. sparrows usually come with him, but if they dare to touch a bit of food that he has his eye on they catch it. my robin insists upon coming into my study in winter. he likes the window left open though, and i don't, and on this account we have little petulancies, and if i turn him out he takes revenge by flying against the french window, and mudding all the pane with his feet. almost every country house has one or two robins that specially belong to it, and very jealous they are of any strange birds that happen to come nigh the dwelling. while bird-nesting one time in company with another boy, we found a robin's nest in a bank at the foot of a great ash tree. there were five eggs in it. on going to see it two days after, we found the nest and eggs intact, but two other eggs had been laid and deposited about a foot from the bank. we took the hint, and carried away these two, but did not touch the others. the eggs are not very pretty. while shooting in the wildest part of the highlands, and a long way from home, i have often preferred a bed with my dog on the heather to the smoky hospitality of a hut; and i have found robins perched close by me of a morning, singing ever so sweetly and low. they were only trying to earn the right to pick up the crumbs my setter and i had left at supper, but this shows you how fond these birds are of human society. in a cage the robin will live well and healthily for many years, if kindly and carefully treated. he will get so tame that you needn't fear to let him have his liberty about the room. let the cage be large and roomy, and covered partly over with a cloth. the robin loves the sunshine and a clean, dry cage, and, as to food, he is not very particular. give him german paste--with a little bruised hemp and maw seed, with insects, beetles, grubs, garden and meal worms, etc. let him have clean gravel frequently, and fresh water every morning. now and then, when you think your pet is not particularly lively, put a rusty nail in the water. chapter fourteen. the redstart, the goldfinch, the mavis, and merle. "they sang, as blithe as finches sing, that flutter loose on golden wing, and frolic where they list; strangers to liberty, 'tis true, but that delight they never knew, and therefore never miss'd." cowper. i was creeping, crawling, and scrambling one afternoon in the days of my boyhood, through tall furze at the foot of the drummond hill, which in england would be called a mountain. it was the saturday half-holiday, and i was having a fine time of it among the birds. i was quite a mile away from any human dwelling, and, i flattered myself, from any human being either. i was speedily undeceived though. "come out o' there, youngster," cried a terrible voice, almost to my ear. "i thought ye were a rabbit; i was just going to chuck a stone at your head." i crept forth in fear and trembling. a city rough of the lowest type--you could tell that from the texture of the ragged, second-hand garments he wore; from his slipshod feet, his horrid cap of greasy fur, and pale, unwholesome face. he proceeded to hoist a leafless branch, smeared with birdlime, in a conspicuous place, and not far off he deposited a cage, with a bird in it. then he addressed me. "i'm goin' away for half an hour, and you'll stop here and watch. if any birds get caught on the twigs, when i come back i'll mebbe gie you something." when he came back he did "gie me something." he boxed my ears soundly, because i lay beside the cage, and talked to the little bird all the time instead of watching. you may guess how i loved that man. i have had the same amount of affection for the whole bird-catching fraternity ever since, and i do a deal every summer to spoil their sport. i look upon them as followers of a most sinful calling, and just as cruel and merciless as the slave-traders of southern africa. many a little heart they break; they separate parent birds, and tear the old from their young, who are left to starve to death in the nest. the redstart was a great favourite with me in these joyous days. in size and shape he is not unlike the robin; but the bill is black, the forehead white, the rest of the upper part of the body a bluish grey. the wings are brownish, the bird wears a bib of black, but on the upper portion of the chest and all down the sides there is red, though not so bright in colour as the robin's breast. that is the plumage of the cock-bird, so these birds are easily known. they make charming cage pets, being very affectionate, and as merry as a maiden on may morning, always singing and gay, and so tame that you need not be afraid to let them out of the cage. another was the wren. some would love the mite for pity sake. it is very pretty and very gay, and possesses a sweet little voice of its own; it needs care, however. it must not, on the one hand, be kept too near a fire or in too warm a room, and on the other it should be well covered up at night; a draught is fatal to such a bird. there is also the golden-headed wren, the smallest of our british birds, but i do not remember ever having seen one kept in a cage. there is no accounting for tastes, however. i knew a young lady in aberdeen who kept a golden eagle in a cage of huge dimensions. he was the admiration of all beholders, and the terror of inquisitive schoolboys, who, myself among the number, fully believed he ate a whole horse every week, and ever so many chickens. while gazing at the bird, you could not help feeling thankful you were on the _outside_ of the cage. i admired, but i did not love him much. he caught me by the arm one day, with true masonic grip--i loved him even less after that. wrens are fed in the same way as robins or nightingales are. in the wild state they build a large roundish nest, principally of green moss outside, and with very little lining. there is just one tiny hole left in the side capable of admitting two fingers. eggs about ten in number, very small, white, and delicately ticked with red. if i remember rightly, the golden wren's are pure white. the nests i have found were in bushes, holly, fir, or furze, or under the branches of large trees close to the trunk. the back of the nest is nearly always towards the north and east. the stonechat or stone-checker is a nice bird as to looks, but possesses but little song. it would require the same treatment in cage or aviary as the robin. so i believe would the whinchat, but i have no practical knowledge of either as pets. with the exception of the kingfisher, i do not recollect any british bird with brighter or more charming plumage, than our friend the goldfinch. he is arrayed in crimson and gold, black, white, and brown, but the colours are so beautifully placed and blended, that, rich and gaudy though they be, they cannot but please the eye of the most artistic. the song of the goldfinch is very sweet, he is with all a most affectionate pet, and exceedingly clever, so much so that he may be taught quite a number of so-called tricks. in the wild state the bird eats a variety of seeds of various weeds that grow by the wayside, and at times in the garden of the sluggard. dandelion and groundsel seed are the chief of these, and later on in the season thistle seed. so fond, indeed, is the goldfinch of the thistle that the only wonder is that our neighbours beyond the tweed do not claim it as one of _the_ birds of bonnie scotland, as they do the curlew and the golden eagle. but, on the other hand, they might on the same plea claim a certain quadruped, whose length of ear exceeds its breadth of intellect. "won't you tell us something," said ida, "about the blackbird and thrush? were they not pets of your boyhood?" "they were, dear, and if i once begin talking about them i will hardly finish to-night." "but just a word or two about them." it is the poet mortimer collins that says so charmingly: "all through the sultry hours of june, from morning blithe to golden noon, and till the star of evening climbs the grey-blue east, a world too soon, there sings a thrush amid the limes." whether in scotland or england, the mavis, or thrush, is one of the especial favourites of the pastoral poet and lyrist. and well the bird deserves to be. no sweeter song than his awakes the echoes of woodland or glen. it is shrill, piping, musical. tannahill says he "gars (makes) echo _ring_ frae tree to tree." that is precisely what the charming songster does do. it is a bold, clear, ringing song that tells of the love and joy at the birdie's heart. if that joy could not find expression in song, the bird would pine and die, as it does when caught, caged, and improperly treated. when singing he likes to perch himself among the topmost branches; he likes to see well about him, and perhaps the beauties he sees around him tend to make him sing all the more blithely. but though seeing, he is not so easily seen. i often come to the door of my garden study and say to myself, "where can the bird be to-night?" this, however, is when the foliage is on orchard and oaks. but his voice sometimes sounds so close to my ear that i am quite surprised when i find him singing among the boughs of a somewhat distant tree. this is my mavis, my particular mavis. in summer he awakes me with his wild lilts, long ere it is time to get up, and he continues his song "till the star of evening climbs the grey-blue east," and sometimes for an hour or more after that. i think, indeed, that he likes the gloaming best, for by that witching time nearly all the other birds have retired, and there is nothing to interrupt him. in winter my mavis sings whenever the weather is mild and the grass is visible. but he does not think of turning up of a morning until the sun does, and he retires much earlier. i have known my mavis now nearly two years, and i think he knows me. but how, you may ask me, frank, do i know that it is the selfsame bird. i reply that not only do we, the members of my own family, know this mavis, but those of some of my neighbours as well, and in this way: all thrushes have certain expressions of their own, which, having once made use of, they never lose. so like are these to human words, that several people hearing them at the same time construe them in precisely the same way. my mavis has four of these in his vocabulary, with which he constantly interlards his song, or rather songs. they form the choruses, as it were, of his vocal performances. the chorus of one is, "weeda, weeda, weeda;" of another, "piece o' cake, piece o' cake, piece o' cake;" of the third, "earwig, earwig, earwig;" and of the last, sung in a most plaintive key, "pretty deah, pretty deah, pretty deah." "that is so true," said ida, laughing. on frosty days he does not sing, but he will hop suddenly down in front of me while i am feeding the newfoundlands. "you can spare a crumb," he says, speaking with his bright eye; "grubs are scarce, and my poor toes are nearly frozen off." says the great lyrist-- "may i not dream god sends thee there, thou mellow angel of the air, even to rebuke my earthlier rhymes with music's soul, all praise and prayer? is that thy lesson in the limes?" i am lingering longer with the mavis than probably i ought, simply because i want you all to love the bird as i love him. well, then, i have tried to depict him to you as he is in his native wilds; but see him now at some bud-seller's door in town. look at his drooping wings and his sadly neglected cage. his eyes seem to plead with each passer-by. "won't _you_ take me out of here?" he seems to say, "nor you, nor you? oh! if you would, and were kind to me, i should sing songs to you that would make the green woods rise up before you like scenery in a beautiful dream." the male thrush is the songster, the female remains mute. she listens. the plumage is less different than in most birds. the male looks more pert and saucy, if that is any guide. the mavis is imitative of the songs of other birds. in scotland they say he _mocks_ them. i do not think that is the case, but i know that about a week after the nightingales arrive here my mavis begins to adopt many of their notes, which he loses again when philomel becomes mute. and i shouldn't think that even my mavis would dare to mock the nightingale. i have found the nest of the mavis principally in young spruce-trees or tall furze in scotland, and in england in thick hedges and close-leaved bushes; it is built, of moss, grass, and twigs, and clay-lined. eggs, four or five, a bluish-green colour with black spots. the missel-thrush, or highland magpie, builds far beyond any one's reach, high up in the fork of a tree; the eggs are very lovely--whitish, speckled with brown and red. i do not recommend this bird as a pet. he is too wild. the merle, or blackbird, frequents the same localities as the mavis does, and is by no means a shy bird even in the wild state, though i imagine he is of a quieter and more affectionate disposition. it is my impression that he does not go so far away from the nest of his pretty mate as the mavis, but then, perhaps, if he did he would not be heard. the song is even sweeter to the ear than that of the thrush, although it has far fewer notes. it is quieter, more rich and full, more mellow and melodious. the blackbird has been talked of as "fluting in the grove." the notes are certainly not like those of the flute. they are cut or "tongued" notes like those of the clarionet. chapter fifteen. a bird-haunted churchyard. "adieu, sweet bird! thou erst hast been companion of each summer scene, loved inmate of our meadows green, and rural home; the music of thy cheerful song we loved to hear; and all day long saw thee on pinion fleet and strong about us roam." it is usual in the far north of scotland, where the writer was reared, to have, as in england, the graveyard surrounding the parish church. the custom is a very ancient and a very beautiful one; life's fitful fever past and gone, to rest under the soft sward, and under the shadow of the church where one gleaned spiritual guidance. there is something in the very idea of this which tends to dispel much of the gloom of death, and cast a halo round the tomb itself. but at the very door of the old church of n--a tragedy had, years before i had opened my eyes in life, been enacted, and since that day service had never again been conducted within its walls. the new church was built on an open site quite a mile from the old, which latter stands all by itself--crumbling ivy-clad ruins, in the midst of the greenery of an acre of ancient graves. there is a high wall around it, and giant ash and plane trees in summer almost hide it from view. it is a solitary spot, and on moonlit nights in winter, although the highway skirts it, few there be who care to pass that way. the parish school or academy is situated some quarter of a mile from the auld kirkyard, and in the days of my boyhood even bird-nesting boys seldom, if ever, visited the place. it was not considered "canny." for me, however, the spot had a peculiar charm. it was so quiet, so retired, and haunted, not with ghosts, but with birds, and many a long sunny forenoon did i spend wandering about in it, or reclining on the grass with my virgil or horace in hand--poets, by the way, who can only be thoroughly enjoyed out of doors in the country. a pair of owls built in this auld kirkyard for years. i used to think they were always the same old pair, who, year after year, stuck to the same old spot, sending their young ones away to the neighbouring woods to begin life on their own account as soon as they were able to fly. they were lazy birds; for two whole years they never built a nest of their own, but took possession of a magpie's old one. but at last the lady owl said to her lord-- "my lord, this nest is getting quite disreputable--we _must_ have a new one this spring." "very well," said his lordship, looking terribly learned, "but you'll have to build it, my lady, for i've got to think, and think, you know." "to be sure, my lord," said she. "the world would never go on unless you thought, and thought." she chose an old window embrasure, and, half hid in ivy, there she built the new nest with weeds and sticks and stubble, while he did nothing but sit and talk greek and natural philosophy at her. there were tree sparrows built in the ivy of those crumbling walls, each nest about as big as the bottom of an armchair, and containing as many feathers as would stuff a small pillow-case, to say nothing of threads of all colours, hair, and pieces of printed paper. seven, eight, and ten eggs would be in some of those, white as to ground, and beautifully speckled with brown and grey. i have heard the tree sparrow called a nasty, common, dowdy thing. it really is not at all dowdy, and although it may be called the country cousin of the busy, chattering little morsel of feathers and fluff that hops nimbly but noisily about our roof-tops, and is constantly quarrelling with its neighbours, the tree sparrow is far more pretty. nor is it quite plebeian. it is the _passer montanus_ of some naturalists, the _becfin friquet_ of the french; it belongs to the greek family, the _fringillidae_, and does not the linnet belong to that family too? yes, and the beautiful bullfinch and the gaudy goldfinch as well, to say nothing of the siskin and canary, so it cannot be plebeian. the tree sparrow makes a nice wee pet, very loving and gentle, and not at all particular as to food. it likes canary-seed, but insects and worms as well, and it is not shy at picking a morsel of sugar, nor a tiny bit of bread and butter. there were more birds of the same family that haunted this auld kirkyard. the greenfinch or green-grosbeak used to flit hither and thither among the ivy like a tiny streak of lightning, and the pretty wee redpole was also there. there was one bird in particular that used to build in the trees that grew inside the graveyard wall. i refer to my old friend and favourite the chaffinch, called in scotland the boldie. he is most brilliant in plumage, being richly clad in russet red and brown, picked out with blue, yellow, and white. the chaffinch is lovely whether sitting or flying, whether trilling his song with head erect and throat puffed out, or keeking down from the branch of a tree with one saucy eye, to see if any one is going near his nest. his song in the wild state is more celebrated for brilliancy and boldness than for sweetness or variation, but in confinement it may be improved. but this same nest is something to look at and admire for minutes at a time. i used to think my chaffinch--the chaffinch that built in my churchyard--was particularly proud of his nest. "pink, pink, pink," he used to say to me; "i see you looking up at my nest. you may go up, if you like, and have a look in. _she_ is from home just now, and there are four eggs in at present. there will be five by-and-by. now, did you ever see such beautiful eggs?" "never," i would reply; "they are most lovely." "well, then," he would continue, "pink, pink, pink! look at the nest itself. what do you think of that for architecture? it is built, you see, some twelve feet from the ground, against the stem, but held in its place by a little branch. it is out of the reach of cats; if it were higher up the wind would shake it, or the hawks would see it. it is not much bigger than your two hands; and just look at the artistic way in which the lichens are mingled with the moss on the outside, to blend with the colour of the tree!" "yes, but," i would remark, "there are bits of paper there, as well as lichens." "yes, yes, yes," the bird would reply; "bits of paper do almost as well as lichens. pink, pink, pink! there is the whole of lord palmerston's speech there; palmerston is a clever man, but he couldn't build a nest like that." i mentioned the redpole. it is, as far as beauty goes, one of the best cage-birds we have; a modest, wee, affectionate, unassuming pet, but deficient in song. "cheet, cheet, cheet, cheet, cheet, cheet, chee-ee!" what sweet little voice is that repeating the same soft song over and over again, and dwelling on the last syllable with long-drawn cadence? the music--for music it is, although a song without variations--is coming from yonder bonnie bush of golden-blossomed broom, that grows in the angle between the two walls in a remote corner of the auld kirkyard. i throw horace down, and get up from the grass and walk towards it. "chick, chick, chick, chick, chee-ee!" "oh, yes! i daresay you haven't a nest anywhere near; but i know better." this is my reply. i walk across the unhallowed ground, as this patch is called, for-- whisper it!--suicides lie here, and the graves have not been raised, nor do stones mark the spot where they lie. here is the nest, in under a bit of weedy bank, and yonder is the bird himself--the yellow-hammer, skite, or yellow bunting--looking as gay as a hornet, for well he knows that i will not disturb his treasures. the eggs are shapely, white in ground, and beautifully streaked and speckled, and splashed with reddish brown. but there are no eggs; only four morsels of yellow fluff, apparently, surrounded by four gaping orange-red mouths. but they are cosy. i catch a tiny slug, and break it up between them, and the cock-bird goes on singing among the broom, while the hen perches a little way off, twittering nervously and peevishly. "chick, chick, che-ee!" says the bird. "i don't pretend to build such a pretty nest as the chaffinch; besides, such a flimsy thing as his would not do on the ground; mine has a solid foundation of hay, don't you see? that keeps out the damp, and that lining of hair is warmer than anything else in the world." a poor, persecuted little bird is this same yellow bunting; and schoolboys often, when they find the nest, scatter it and its precious contents to the four winds of heaven. all the more reason why we should be kind to the pet if we happen to have it in confinement. it is true the wild song is not very interesting; but when a young one is got, it will improve itself if it can listen to the song of another bird, for nearly all our feathered songsters possess the gift of imitation. chapter sixteen. a friend of my student days. "he was a gash and faithfu' tyke as over lap a sheugh or dyke." burns. i had cured friend frank's dog of some trifling ailment, and she seemed fonder of me than ever. "poor meg," i said, patting her. dogs are never ungrateful for kindnesses, but i have seen many noted instances of revenge, and so doubtless have many of my readers. here is a case. at one time of day my father possessed a breed of beautiful black game-cocks. one of these had a great aversion to dogs, and a bull-terrier, who was tied up in a stall in the stable, came in for a considerable share of blows and abuse from a certain brave bird of the king jock strain. i myself was a witness to the assault, but i dared not interfere, for to tell you the truth, that game-cock was one too many for me then, and i wouldn't care to be attacked by a bird of the same kind even now. king jock had come into the stable to pick a bit by himself, for he was far too cavalierly to eat much before the hens. "give everything to the ladies and go without yourself" is game-cock etiquette. presently he spied "danger" lying in the stall with his head on his two fore-paws. "oh! you're there, are you?" said king jock, holding his head to the ground, and keening up with one eye at the poor dog. "didn't notice ye before. it ain't so light as it might be." danger gave one apologetic wag of his tail. "pretty fellow you are, ain't ye?" continued the cock, edging a bit nearer. "eh? why don't you speak?" "ho! ho! it's chained ye are, is it? i've a good mind to let you have it on that ugly patched face of yours. and, by my halidom, i will too. who ran through the yard yesterday and scared the senses out of half my harem? take that, and that, and that. try to bite, would you? then you'll have another; there! and there!" poor danger's head was covered with round lumps as big as half marbles, and each lump had a spur-hole. cock jock had made good practice, which he had much reason to repent, for one day master danger broke loose, and went straight away to look for his enemy. jock possessed a tail that any cock might have been proud of, but after his encounter with danger his pride had a fall, for in his speedy flight he got stuck in a hedge, and the dog tore every feather out, and would have eaten his way into, and probably through, king jock himself, if the twig hadn't snapped, and the bird escaped. after that king jock was content to treat bull-terriers with quiet disdain. dogs know much of what is said to them, especially if you do not speak too fast, for, if you do, they get nervous, and forget their english. it is, in my opinion, better not to alter your form of speech, nor the tone of your voice, when talking to a dog. my old friend tyro, a half-bred collie, but most beautiful animal, understood and was in the habit of being talked to in three languages, to say nothing of broad scotch, namely, english, gaelic, and latin--no, not dog latin, by your leave, sir, but the real simon pure and ciceronic. i don't mean to assert that he could appreciate the beauties of the bucolics, nor horatian love lays if read to him; but he would listen respectfully, and he would obey ordinary orders when couched in the roman tongue. every animal that had hair and ran was, to tyro, a cat; every animal that had feathers was a crow, and these he qualified by size. in a flock of sheep, for instance, if you asked him to chase out the _big_ "cat," it was a ram, who got no peace till he came your way; if, in a flock of fowls, you had asked him to chase out the _big_ "crow," it was the cock who had to fly; if you said the wee crow, a bantam or hen would be the victim. an ordinary cat was simply a cat, and if you asked him to go and find one, it would be about the barn-yards or stables he would search. but if you told him to go and find a "grub-cat," it was off to the hills he would be, and if you listened you would presently hear him in chase, and he would seldom return without a grub-cat, that meant a cat that could be eaten--i.e., a hare or rabbit. he knew when told to go and take a drink of water; but, at sea, the ocean all around him was pointed out to him as the big drink of water. in course of time he grew fond of the sea, though the commotion in the water and the breakers must have been strange and puzzling to him; but if at any time he was told to go and take a look at the big drink of water, he would put his two fore-paws on the bulwarks and watch the waves for many minutes at a time. "i have often heard you speak of your dog tyro, gordon," said frank; "can't you tell us his history?" "i will, with pleasure," i replied. "he was _the_ dog of my student days. i never loved a dog more, i never loved one so much, with the exception perhaps of theodore nero--or you, aileen, for i see you glancing up at me. no, you needn't sigh so." but about tyro. here is his story:--he was bred from a pure scottish collie, the father a powerful retriever (irish). "bah!" some one may here say, "only a mongrel," a class of dogs whose praises few care to sing, and whose virtues are written in water. a watch-dog of the right sort was tyro; and from the day when his brown eyes first rested on me, for twelve long years, by sea and land, i never had a more loving companion or trusty friend. he was a large and very strong dog, feathered like a newfoundland, but with hair so soft and long and glossy, as to gain for him in his native village the epithet of "silken dog." in colour he was black-and-tan, with snow-white gauntlets and shirt-front. his face was very remarkable, his eyes bright and tender, giving him, with his long, silky ears, almost the expression of a beautiful girl. being good-mannered, kind, and always properly groomed, he was universally admired, and respected by high and low. he was, indeed, patted by peers and petted by peasants, never objected to in first-class railway cars or steamer saloons, and the most fastidious of hotel waiters did not hesitate to admit him, while he lounged daintily on sofa or ottoman, with the _sang froid_ of one who had a right. tyro came into my possession a round-pawed fun-and-mischief-loving puppy. his first playmate was a barn-door fowl, of the male persuasion, who had gained free access to the kitchen on the plea of being a young female in delicate health; which little piece of deceit, on being discovered by his one day having forgot himself so far as to crow, cost "maggie," the name he impudently went by, his head. very dull indeed was poor tyro on the following day, but when the same evening he found maggie's head and neck heartlessly exposed on the dunghill, his grief knew no bounds. slowly he brought it to the kitchen, and with a heavy sigh deposited it on the hearthstone-corner, and all the night and part of next day it was "waked," the pup refusing all food, and flashing his teeth meaningly at whosoever attempted to remove it, until sleep at last soothed his sorrow. i took to the dog after that, and never repented it, for he saved my life, of which anon. shortly after his "childish sorrow," tyro had a difference of opinion with a cat, and got rather severely handled, and this i think it was that led him, when a grown dog, to a confusion of ideas regarding these animals, _plus_ hares and rabbits; "when taken to be well shaken," was his motto, adding "wherever seen," so he slew them indiscriminately. this cat-killing propensity was exceedingly reprehensible, but the habit once formed never could be cured; although i, stimulated by the loss of guinea after guinea, whipped him for it, and many an old crone--deprived of her pet--has scolded him in english, irish, and scotch, all with the same effect. talking of cats, however, there was _one_ to whom tyro condescendingly forgave the sin of existing. it so fell out that, in a fight with a staghound, he was wounded in a large artery, and was fast bleeding to death, because no one dared to go near him, until a certain sturdy eccentric woman, very fond of our family, came upon the scene. she quickly enveloped her arms with towels, to save herself from bites, and thus armed, thumbed the artery for two hours; then dressing it with cobwebs, saved the dog's life. tyro became, when well, a constant visitor at the woman's cottage; he actually came to love her, often brought her the hares he killed, and, best favour of all to the old maid, considerately permitted her cat to live during his royal pleasure; but, if he met the cat abroad, he changed his direction, and inside he never let his eyes rest upon her. when tyro came of age, twenty-one (months), he thought it was high time to select a profession, for hitherto he had led a rather roving life. one thing determined him. my father's shepherd's toothless old collie died, and having duly mourned for her loss, he--the shepherd--one day brought home another to fill up the death-vacancy. she was black, and very shaggy, had youth and beauty on her side, pearly teeth, hair that shone like burnished silver, and, in short, was quite a charming shepherdess--so, at least, thought tyro; and what more natural than that he should fall in love with her? so he did. in her idle hours they gambolled together on the gowny braes, brushed the bells from the purple heather and the dewdrops from the grass, chased the hares, bullied the cat, barked and larked, and, in short, behaved entirely like a pair of engaged lovers of the canine class; and then said tyro to himself, "my mother was a shepherdess, _i_ will be a shepherd, and thus enjoy the company of my beloved `phillis' for ever, and perhaps a day or two longer." and no young gentleman ever gave himself with more energy to a chosen profession than did tyro. he was up with the lark--the bird that picks up the worm--and away to the hill and the moor. to his faults the shepherd was most indulgent for a few days; but when tyro, in his over-zeal, attempted to play the wolf, he was, very properly, punished. "what an indignity! before one's phillis too!" tyro turned tail and trotted sulkily home. "bother the sheep!" he must have thought; at any rate, he took a dire revenge--not on the shepherd, _his_ acquaintance he merely cut, and he even continued to share the crib with his little ensnarer--but on the sheep-fold. a neighbouring farmer's dog, of no particular breed, was in the habit of meeting tyro at summer gloaming, in a wood equidistant from their respective homes. they then shook tails, and trotted off side by side. being a very early riser, i used often to see tyro coming home in the mornings, jaded, worn, and muddy, avoiding the roads, and creeping along by ditches and hedgerows. when i went to meet him, he threw himself at my feet, as much as to say, "thrash away, and be quick about it." this went on for weeks, though i did not know then what mischief "the twa dogs" had been brewing, although ugly rumours began to be heard in all the countryside about murdered sheep and bleeding lambs; but my eyes were opened, and opened with a vengeance, when nineteen of the sheep on my father's hill-side were made bleeding lumps of clay in one short "simmer nicht"; and had tyro been tried for his life, he could scarcely have proved an _alibi_, and, moreover, his pretty breast was like unto a robin's, and his gauntlets steeped in gore. dire was the punishment that fell on tyro's back for thus forsaking the path of virtue for a sheep-walk; and for two or three years, until, like the "rose o' anandale," he-- "left his highland home and wandered forth with me," he was condemned to the chain. he now became really a watch-dog, and a right good one he proved. the chain was of course slipped at night when his real duties were supposed to commence. gipsies--tinklers we call them--were just then an epidemic in our part of the country; and our hen-roosts were in an especial manner laid under blackmail. one or two of those same long-legged gentry got a lesson from tyro they did not speedily forget. i have seldom seen a dog that could knock down a man with less unnecessary violence. so surely as any one laid a hand on his master, even in mimic assault, he was laid prone on his back, and that, too, in a thoroughly business-like fashion; and violence was only offered if the lowly-laid made an attempt to get up till out of arrest. i never had a dog of a more affectionate disposition than my dead-and-gone friend tyro. by sea and land, of course _i_ was his especial charge; but that did not prevent him from joyously recognising "friends he had not seen for years." like his human shipmates, he too used to look out for land, and he was generally the first to make known the welcome news, by jumping on the bulwarks, snuffing the air, and giving one long loud bark, which was slightly hysterical, as if there were a big lump in his throat somewhere. i should go on the principle of _de mortuis nil nisi bonum_; but i am bound to speak of tyro's faults as well as his virtues. reader, he had a temper--never once shown to woman or child, but often, when he fancied his _casus belli_ just, to man, and once or twice to his master. why, one night, in my absence, he turned my servant out, and took forcible possession of my bed. it _was_ hard, although i _had_ stayed out rather late; but only by killing him could i have dislodged him, so for several reasons i preferred a night on the sofa, and next morning i reasoned the matter with him. during our country life, tyro took good care i should move as little as possible without him, and consequently dubbed himself knight-companion of my rambles over green field and heathy mountain, and these were not few. we often extended our excursions until the stars shone over us, then we made our lodging on the cold ground, tyro's duties being those of watch and pillow. often though, on awakening in the morning, i found my head among the heather, and my pillow sitting comfortably by my side panting, generally with a fine hare between its paws, for it had been "up in the morning airly" and "o'er the hills and far awa'," long before i knew myself from a stone. tyro's country life ended when his master went to study medicine. one day i was surprised to find him sitting on the seat beside me. the attendant was about to remove him. "let alone the poor dog," said professor l. "i am certain he will listen more quietly than any one here." then after the lecture, "thank you, doggie; you have taught my students a lesson." that naughty chain prevented a repetition of the offence; but how exuberant he was to meet me at evening any one may guess. till next morning he was my second shadow. more than once, too, he has been a rather too faithful ally in the many silly escapades into which youth and spirits lead the medical student. his use was to cover a retreat, and only once did he floor a too-obtrusive bobby; and once he _saved me from an ugly death_. it was hogmanay--the last night of the year--and we had been merry. we, a jolly party of students, had elected to sing in the new year. we did so, and had been very happy, while, as burns hath it, tyro-- "for vera joy had barkit wi' us." ringing out from every corner of the city, like cocks with troubled minds, came the musical voices of night-watchmen, bawling "half-past one," as we left the streets, and proceeded towards our home in the suburbs. it was a goodly night, moon and stars, and all that sort of thing, which tempted me to set out on a journey of ten miles into the country, in order to be "first foot" to some relations that lived there. the road was crisp with frost, and walking pleasant enough, so that we were in one hour nearly half-way. about here was a bridge crossing a little rocky ravine, with a babbling stream some sixty feet below. on the low stone parapet of this bridge, like the reckless fool i was, i stretched myself at full length, and, unintentionally, fell fast asleep. how nearly that sleep had been my last! two hours afterwards i awoke, and naturally my eyes sought the last thing they had dwelt upon, the moon; she had declined westward, and in turning round i was just toppling over when i was sharply pulled backwards toward the road. here was tyro with his two paws pressed firmly against the parapet, and part of my coat in his mouth, while with flashing teeth he growled as i never before had heard him. his anger, however, was changed into the most exuberant joy, when i alighted safely on the road, shuddering at the narrow escape i had just made. at the suggestion of tyro, we danced round each other, for five minutes at least, in mutual joy, by which time we were warm enough to finish our journey, and be "first foot" to our friends in the morning. when tyro left home with me to begin a seafaring life, he put his whole heart and soul into the business. there was more than one dog in the ship, but his drawing-room manners and knowledge of "sentry-go" made him saloon dog _par excellence_. his first voyage was to the polar regions, and his duty the protection by night of the cabin stores, including the spirit room. this duty he zealously performed; in fact, master tyro would have cheerfully undertaken to take charge of the whole ship, and done his best to repel boarders, if the occasion had demanded it. a sailor's life was now for a time the lot of tyro. i cannot, however, say he was perfectly happy; no dog on board ship is. he missed the wide moors and the heathy hills, and i'm sure, like his master, he was always glad to go on shore again. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ poor tyro got old; and so i had to go to sea without him. then this dog attached himself to my dear mother. when i returned home again, she was gone... strange to say, tyro, who during my poor mother's illness had never left her room, refused food for days after her death. he got thin, and dropsy set in. with my _own_ hand, i tapped him no less than fifteen times, removing never less than one gallon and three quarters of water. the first operation was a terrible undertaking, owing to the dog making such fierce resistance; but afterwards, when he began to understand the immense relief it afforded him, he used to submit without even a sigh, allowing himself to be strapped down without a murmur, and when the operation (excepting the stab of the trocar, there is little or no pain) was over, he would give himself a shake, then lick the hands of all the assistants--generally four--and present a grateful paw to each; then he had his dinner, and next day was actually fit to run down a rabbit or hare. thinner and weaker, weaker and thinner, month by month, and still i could not, as some advised, "put him out of pain;" he had once saved my life, and i did not feel up to the mark in red indianism. and so the end drew nigh. the saddest thing about it was this: the dog had the idea (knowing little of the mystery of death) that i could make him well; and at last, when he could no longer walk, he used to crawl to meet me on my morning visit, and gaze in my face with his poor imploring eyes, and my answer (_well_ he knew what i said) was always, "tyro, doggie, you'll be better the morn (to-morrow), boy." and when one day i could stand it no longer, and rained tears on my old friend's head, he crept back to his bed, and that same forenoon he was dead. poor old friend tyro. though many long years have fled since then, i can still afford a sigh to his memory. on a "dewy simmer's gloaming" my tyro's coffin was laid beneath the sod, within the walls of a noble old highland ruin. there is no stone to mark where he lies, but i know the spot, and i always think the _gowan blinks_ bonniest and the grass grows greenest there. chapter seventeen. the days when we went cruising. "o'er the glad waters of the dark-blue sea, our thoughts as boundless and ourselves as free." byron. when cruising round africa some years ago in a saucy wee gunboat, that shall be nameless, i was not only junior assistant surgeon, but i was likewise head surgeon, and chief of the whole medical department, and the whole of that department consisted of--never a soul but myself. as we had only ninety men all told, the admiralty couldn't afford a medical officer of higher standing than myself. i was ably assisted, however, in my arduous duties, which, by the way, occupied me very nearly half an hour every morning, after, not before, breakfast, by the loblolly boy "sugar o' lead." i don't suppose he was baptised sugar o' lead. i don't think it is likely ever he was baptised at all. this young gentleman used to make my poultices, oatmeal they were made of, of course--i'm a scot. but sugar o' lead always put salt in them, ate one half and singed the rest. he had also to keep the dispensary clean, which he never did, but he used to rub the labels off the bottles, three at a time, and stick them on again, but usually on the wrong bottles. this kept me well up in my pharmacy; but when one day i gave a man a dose of powder of jalap, instead of gregory, sugar o' lead having changed the labels, the man said "it were a kinder rough on him." sugar o' lead thought he knew as much as i, perhaps; but epsom salts and sulphate of zinc, although alike in colour, are very different in their effects when given internally. sugar o' lead had a different opinion. another of the duties which devolved upon sugar o' lead was to clean up after the dogs. at this he was quite at home. at night he slept with the monkeys. although the old cockatoo couldn't stand him, sugar o' lead and the monkeys were on very friendly terms; they lived together on that great and broad principle which binds the whole of this mighty world of ours together, the principle of "you favour me to-day and i'll favour you to-morrow." sugar o' lead and the monkeys acted upon it in quite the literal sense. at symon's town, i was in the habit of constantly going on shore to prospect, gun in hand, over the mountains. grand old hills these are, too, here and there covered with bush, with bold rocky bluffs abutting from their summits, their breasts bedecked with the most gorgeous geraniums, and those rare and beautiful heaths, which at home you can only find in hot-houses. my almost constant attendant was a midshipman, a gallant young scotchman, whom you may know by the name of donald mcphee, though i knew him by another. the very first day of our many excursions "in the pursuit of game," we were wading through some scrub, about three or four miles from the shore, when suddenly my companion hailed me thus: "look-out, doctor, there's a panther yonder, and he's nearest you." so he was; but then he wasn't a panther at all, but a very large pointer. i shouldn't like to say that he was good enough for the show bench; he was, however, good enough for work. poor panther, doubtless he now rests with his fathers, rests under the shadow of some of the mighty mountains, the tartaned hills, over which he and i used to wander in pursuit of game. on his grave green lizards bask, and wild cinerarias bloom, while over it glides the shimmering snake; but the poor, faithful fellow blooms fresh in my memory still. i think i became his special favourite. perhaps he was wise enough to admire the highland dress i often wore. perhaps he thought, as i did, that of all costumes, that was the best one for hill work. but the interest he took in everything i did was remarkable. he seemed rejoiced to see me when i landed, as betokened by the wagging tail, the lowered ears, slightly elevated chin, and sparkling eye--a canine smile. "doctor," he seemed to say, "i was beginning to think you weren't coming. but won't we have a day of it, just?" and away we would go, through the busy town and along the sea beach, where the lisping wavelets broke melodiously on sands of silvery sheen, where many a monster medusa lay stranded, looking like huge umbrellas made of jelly, and on, and on, until we came to a tiny stream, up whose rocky banks we would scramble, skirting the bush, and arriving at last at the great heath land. we followed no beaten track, we went here, there, and everywhere. the scenery was enchantingly wild and beautiful, and there was health and its concomitant happiness in every breeze. sometimes we would sit dreamily on a rock top, panther and i, for an hour at a time, vainly trying to drink in all the beauties of the scene. how bright was the blue of the distant sea! how fleecy the cloudlets! how romantic and lovely that far-off mountain range, its rugged outline softened by the purple mists of distance! these everlasting mountains we could people with people of our own imagination. i peopled them with foreign fairies. panther, i think, peopled them with rock rabbits. weary at last with gazing on the grandeur everywhere around us, we would rivet our attention for a spell upon things less romantic--bloater paste and sea biscuit. i shared my lunch with panther. panther was most civil and obliging; he not only did duty as a pointer and guide, but he would retrieve as well, rock rabbits and rats, and such; and as he saw me bag them, he would look up in my face as much as to say-- "now aren't you pleased? don't you feel all over joyful? wouldn't you wag a tail if you had one? i should think so." panther wouldn't retrieve black snakes. "no," said panther, "i draw the line at black snakes, doctor." i would fain have taken him to sea with me, as he belonged to no one; but panther said, "no, i cannot go." "then good-bye, dear friend," i said. "farewell," said panther. and so we parted. he looked wistfully after the boat as it receded from the shore. i believe, poor fellow, he knew he would never see me again. conceive, if you can, of the lonesomeness, the dreariness of going to sea without a dog. but as panther wouldn't come with me, i had to sail without him. as the purple mountains grew less and less distinct, and shades of evening gathered around us, and twinkling lights from rocky points glinted over the waters, i could only lean over the taffrail and sing-- "happy land! happy land! who would leave the glorious land?" who indeed? but sailor-men must. and now darkness covers the ocean, and hides the distant land, and next we were out in the midst of just as rough a sea as any one need care to be in. my only companion at this doleful period of my chequered career was a beautiful white pigeon. here is how i came by him. out at the cape, in many a little rocky nook, and by many a rippling stream, grow sweet flowerets that come beautifully out in feather work. feather-flower making then was one of my chief delights and amusements; the art had been taught me by a young friend of mine, whose father grew wine and kept hunters (jackal-hunting), and had kindly given me "the run" of the house. before leaving, on the present cruise, i had secured some particularly beautiful specimens of flowers, too delicate to be imitated by anything, save the feathers of a pigeon; so i had bought a pure white one, which i had ordered to be killed and sent off. "steward," i cried, as we were just under weigh, "did a boy bring a white pigeon for me?" "he did, sir; and i put it in your cabin in its basket, which i had to give him sixpence extra for." "but why," said i, "didn't you tell him to put his nasty old basket on his back and take it off with him?" "because," said the steward, "the bird would have flown away." "flown away!" i cried. "is the bird alive then?" "to be sure, sir," said the steward. "to be sure, you blockhead," said i; "how can i make feather-flowers from a live pigeon?" the man was looking at me pityingly, i thought. "can't you kill it, sir? give him to me, sir; i'll wring his neck in a brace of shakes." "you'd never wring another neck, steward," i said; "you'd lose the number of your mess as sure as a gun." when i opened the basket, knowing what rogues nigger-boys are, i fully expected to find a bird with neither grace nor beauty, and about the colour of an old white clucking hen. the boy had not deceived me, however. the pigeon was a beauty, and as white as a spitzbergen snow-bird. out he flew, and perched on a clothes-peg in my bulkhead, and said-- "troubled wi' you. tr-rooubled with you." "you'll need," said i, "to put up with the trouble for six months to come, for we're messmates. steward," i continued, "your fingers ain't itching, are they, to kill that lovely creature?" "not they," said the fellow; "i wouldn't do it any harm for the world." "there's my rum bottle," i said; "it always stands in that corner, and it is always at your service while you tend upon the pigeon." the cruise before, we had a black cat on board, that the sailors looked upon as a bird of evil omen, for we got no luck, caught no slavers, ran three times on shore, and were once on fire. this cruise, we had lots of prize-money, and never a single mishap, and the men put it all down to "the surgeon's pet," as they called my bird. he was a pet, too. i made him a nest in a leathern hat-box, where he went when the weather was rough. he was tame, loving, and winning in all his ways, and always scrupulously white and clean. the first place we ran into was delagoa bay. how sweetly pretty, how english-like, is the scenery all around! the gently undulating hills, clothed in clouds of green; the trees growing down almost to the water's edge; the white houses nestling among the foliage, the fruit, the flowers, the blue marbled sky, and the wavelets breaking musically on the silvery sands--what a watering-place it would make, and what a pity we can't import it body bulk! the houses are all built on the sand, so that the beach is the only carpet. in the portuguese governor's house, where we spent such a jolly evening, it was just the same; the chair-legs sank in the soft white sand, the table was off the plane, and the piano all awry; and a dog belonging to one of the officers, a monster boarhound, with eyes like needles, and tusks that would have made umbrella handles, scraped a hole at one end of the room, and nearly buried himself. that dog, his owner told me, would kill a jackal with one blow of his paw; but he likewise caught mice like winking, and killed a cockroach wherever he saw one. his owner wrote this down for me, and i afterwards translated it. next morning, at eleven, the governor and his officers came off, arrayed in scarlet, blue, and burnished gold, cocked-hats and swords, all so gay, and we had tiffin in the captain's cabin; carlo, the dog, came too, of course, and seated himself thoughtfully at one end, abaft the mess table. there we were, then, just six of us--the captain, a fiery looking, wee, red man, but not half a bad fellow; the governor, bald in pate, round-faced, jolly, but incapable of getting very close to the table because of the rotundity of his body; his _aide-de-camp_, a little thin man, as bright and as merry as moonshine; his lieutenant, a jolly old fellow, with eyes like an ulmer hound, and nose like a kidney potato; myself, and carlo. our conversation during tiffin was probably not very edifying, but it was very spirited. you see, our captain couldn't speak a word of portuguese, and the poor portuguese hadn't a word of english. i myself possessed a smattering of spanish, and a little french, and i soon discovered that by mixing the two together, throwing in an occasional english word and a sprinkling of latin, i could manufacture very decent portuguese. at least, the foreigners themselves seemed to understand me, or pretended to for politeness sake. to be sure they didn't always give me the answer i expected, but that was all the funnier, and kept the laugh up. i really believe each one of us knew exactly what he himself meant, but i'm sure couldn't for the life of him have told what his neighbour was driving at. and so we got a little mixed somehow, but everybody knew the road to his mouth, and that was something. we got into an argument upon a very interesting topic indeed, and kept it up for nearly an hour, and were getting quite excited over it, when somehow or other it came out, that the portuguese had all the while been argle-bargling about the rights of the pope, while we englishmen had been deep in the mystery of the prices of yams and sucking pig, in the different villages of the coast. then we all laughed and shook hands, and shrugged our shoulders, and turned up our palms, and laughed again. presently i observed the captain trying to draw my attention unobserved: he was squinting down towards the cruet stand, and i soon perceived the cause. an immense cockroach had got into a bottle of cayenne, and feeling uncomfortably warm, was standing on his hind-legs and frantically waving his long feelers as a signal of distress. i was just wondering how i could get the bottle away without letting the governor see me, when some one else spotted that unhappy cockroach, and that was carlo. now carlo was a dog who acted on the spur of the moment, so as soon as he saw the beast in the bottle he flew straight at it. that spring would have taken him over a six-barred gate. and, woe is me for the result! down rolled the table, crockery and all; down rolled the governor, with his bald pate and rotundity of body; down went the merry little thin man; over rolled the fellow with the nose like a kidney potato. the captain fell, and i fell, and there was an end to the whole feast. when we all got up, carlo was intent upon his cockroach, and looking as unconcerned as if nothing out of the common had occurred. chapter eighteen. blue-jackets' pets. "hard is the heart that loveth nought." shelley. "all love is sweet, given or returned. common as light is love, and its familiar voice wearies not ever." idem. blue-jackets, as her majesty's sailors are sometimes styled, are passionately fond of pets. they must have something to love, if it be but a woolly-headed nigger-boy or a cockroach in a 'baccy-box. little nigger-boys, indeed, may often be found on board a man-o'-war, the reigning pets. young niggers are very precocious. you can teach them all they will ever learn in the short space of six months. of this kind was one i remember, little freezing-powders, as black as midnight, and shining all over like a billiard ball, with his round curly head and pleasant dimply face. freezing-powders soon became a general favourite both fore and aft. his master, our marine officer, picked him up somewhere on the west coast; and although only nine years of age, before he was four months in the ship, he could speak good english, was a perfect little gymnast, and knew as many tricks and capers as the cook and the monkey. snowball was another i knew; but snowball grew bad at an early age, lost caste, became dissipated, and a gambler, and finally fled to his native jungle. jock of ours was a seal of tender years, who for many months retained the affection of all hands, until washed overboard in a gale of wind. this creature's time on board was fully occupied in a daily round of duty, pleasure, and labour. his duty consisted in eating seven meals a day, and bathing in a tub after each; his pleasure, to lie on his side on the quarter-deck and be scratched and petted; while his labour consisted of earnestly endeavouring to enlarge a large scupper-hole sufficiently to permit his escape to his native ocean. how indefatigably he used to work day by day, and hour after hour, scraping on the iron first with one flipper, then with another, then poking his nose in to measure the result with his whiskered face! he kept the hole bright and clear, but did not sensibly enlarge it, at least to human ken. jock's successor on that ship was a youthful bear of arctic nativity. he wasn't a nice pet. he took all you gave him, and wanted to eat your hand as well, but he never said "thank you," and permitted no familiarity. when he took his walks abroad, which he did every morning, although he never went out of his road for a row, he walked straight ahead with his nose downwards growling, and gnawed and tore everything that touched him--not at all a pet worth being troubled with. did the reader ever hear of the sailor who tamed a cockroach? well, this man i was "shipmates" with. he built a little cage, with a little kennel in the corner of it, expressly for his unsavoury pet, and he called the creature "idzky"--"which he named himself, sir," he explained to me. idzky was a giant of his race. his length was fully four inches, his breadth one inch, while each of his waving feelers measured six. this monster knew his name and his master's voice, hurrying out from his kennel when called upon, and emitting the strange sound which gained for him the cognomen idzky. the boatswain, his master, was as proud of him as he might have been of a prize pug, and never tired of exhibiting his eccentricities. i met the boatswain the other day at the cape, and inquired for his pet. "oh, sir," he said, with genuine feeling, "he's gone, sir. shortly after you left the ship, poor idzky took to taking rather much liquor, and that don't do for any of us, you know, sir; i think it was that, for i never had the heart to pat him on allowance; and he went raving mad, had regular fits of delirium, and did nothing at all but run round his cage and bark, and wouldn't look at anything in the way of food. well, one day i was coming off the forenoon watch, when, what should i see but a double line of them `p' ants working in and out of the little place: twenty or so were carrying a wing, and a dozen a leg, and half a score running off with a feeler, just like men carrying a stowed mainsail; and that, says i, is poor idzky's funeral; and so it was, and i didn't disturb them. poor idzky!" peter was a pet mongoose of mine, a kindly, cosy little fellow, who slept around my neck at night, and kept me clear of cockroaches, as well as my implacable enemies, the rats. i was good to peter, and fed him well, and used to take him on shore at the cape, among the snakes. the snakes were for peter to fight; and the way my wary wee friend dodged and closed with, and finally throttled and killed a cobra was a caution to that subtlest of all the beasts of the field. the presiding malay used to clap his brown hands with joy as he exclaimed--"ah! sauve good mongoose, sar, proper mongoose to kill de snake." "you don't object, do you," i modestly asked my captain one day, while strolling on the quarter-deck after tiffin--"you don't object, i hope, to the somewhat curious pets i at times bring on board?" "object?" he replied. "well, no; not as a rule. of course you know i don't like your snakes to get gliding all over the ship, as they were the other day. but, doctor, what's the good of my objecting? if any one were to let that awful beast in the box yonder loose--" "don't think of it, captain," i interrupted; "he'd be the death of somebody, to a dead certainty." "no; i'm not such a fool," he continued. "but if i shot him, why, in a few days you'd be billeting a boar-constrictor or an alligator on me, and telling me it was for the good of science and the service." the awful beast in the box was the most splendid and graceful specimen of the monitor lizard i have ever seen. fully five feet long from tip to tail, he swelled and tapered in the most perfect lines of beauty. smooth, though scaly, and inky black, tartaned all over with transverse rows of bright yellow spots, with eyes that shone like wildfire, and teeth like quartz, with his forked tongue continually flashing out from his bright-red mouth, he had a wild, weird loveliness that was most uncanny. mephistopheles, as the captain not inaptly called him, knew me, however, and took his cockroaches from my hand, although perfectly frantic when any one else went near him. if a piece of wood, however hard, were dropped into his cage, it was instantly torn in pieces; and if he seized the end of a rope, he might quit partnership with his head or teeth, but never with the rope. one day, greatly to my horror, the steward entered the wardroom, pale with fear, and reported: "mephistopheles escaped, sir, and yaffling [rending] the men." i rushed on deck. the animal had indeed escaped. he had torn his cage into splinters, and declared war against all hands. making for the fore hatchway, he had seized a man by the jacket skirts, going down the ladder. the man got out of the garment without delay, and fled faster than any british sailor ought to have done. on the lower deck he chased the cook from the coppers, and the carpenter from his bench. a circle of kroomen were sitting mending a foresail; mephistopheles suddenly appeared in their midst. the niggers unanimously threw up their toes, individually turned somersaults backwards, and sought the four winds of heaven. these routed, my pet turned his attention to peepie. peepie was a little arab slave-lass. she was squatting by a calabash, singing low to herself, and eating rice. he seized her cummerbund, or waist garment. but peepie wriggled clear--natural--and ran on deck, the innocent, like the "funny little maiden" in hans breitmann. on the cummerbund mephistopheles spent the remainder of his fury, and the rest of his life; for not knowing what might happen next, i sent for a fowling-piece, and the plucky fellow succumbed to the force of circumstances and a pipeful of buck-shot. i have him yonder on the sideboard, in body and in spirit (gin), bottle-mates with a sandsnake, three centipedes, and a tarantula. with monkeys, baboons, apes, and all of that ilk, navy ships, when homeward bound, are ofttimes crowded. of our little crew of seventy, i think nearly every man had one, and some two, such pets, although fully one-half died of chest-disease as soon as the ship came into colder latitudes. these monkeys made the little craft very lively indeed, and were a never-ending source of amusement and merriment to all hands. i don't like monkeys, however. they "are so near, and yet so far," as respects humanity. i went shooting them once--a cruel sport, and more cowardly even than elephant-hunting in ceylon--and when i broke the wrist of one, instead of hobbling off, as it ought to have done, it came howling piteously towards me, shaking and showing me the bleeding limb. the little wretch preached me a sermon anent cruelty to animals that i shall not forget till the day i die. we had a sweet-faced, delicate, wee marmoset, not taller, when on end, than a quart bottle--bobie the sailors called him; and we had also a larger ape, hunks by name, of what our scotch engineer called the "ill-gettit breed"; and that was a mild way of putting it. this brute was never out of mischief. he stole the men's tobacco, smashed their pipes, spilled their soup, and ran aloft with their caps, which he minutely inspected and threw overboard afterwards. he was always on the black list; in fact, when rubbing his back after one thrashing, he was wondering all the time what mischief he could do next. bobie was arrayed in a neatly fitting sailor-costume, cap and all complete; and so attired, of course could not escape the persecutions of the ape. hunks, after contenting himself with cockroaches, would fill his mouth; then holding out his hand with one to bobie, "hae, hae, hae," he would cry, then seize the little innocent, and escape into the rigging with him. taking his seat in the maintop, hunks first and foremost emptied his mouth, cramming the contents down his captive's throat. he next got out on to the stays for exercise, and used bobie as a species of dumb-bell, swinging him by the tail, hanging him by a foot, by an ear, by the nose, etc, and threatening to throw him overboard if any sailor attempted a rescue. last of all, he threw him at the nearest sailor. on board the _orestes_ was a large ape as big as a man. he was a most unhappy ape. there wasn't a bit of humour in his whole corporation. "he had a silent sorrow" somewhere, "a grief he'd ne'er impart." whenever you spoke to him, he seized and wrung your hand in the most pathetic manner, and drew you towards him. his other arm was thrown across his chest, while he shook his head, and gazed in your face with such a woe-begone countenance, that the very smile froze on your lips; and as you couldn't laugh out of politeness, you felt very awkward. for anything i know, this melancholy ape may be still alive. deer are common pets in some ships. we had a fine large buck in the old _semiramie_. a romping, rollicking rascal, in truth a very satyr, who never wanted a quid of tobacco in his mouth, nor refused rum and milk. whenever the steward came up to announce dinner, he bolted below at once; and we were generally down just in time to find him dancing among the dishes, after eating all the potatoes. i once went into my cabin and found two liliputian deer in my bed. it was our engineer who had placed them there. we were lying off lamoo, and he had brought them from shore. "ye'll just be a faither to the lammies, doctor," he said, "for i'm no on vera guid terms wi' the skipper." they were exactly the size of an italian greyhound, perfectly formed, and exceedingly graceful. they were too tender, poor things, for life on shipboard, and did not live long. in the stormy latitudes of the cape, the sailors used to amuse themselves by catching cape pigeons, thus: a little bit of wood floated astern attached by a string, a few pieces of fat thrown into the water, and the birds, flying tack and half-tack towards them, came athwart the line, by a dexterous movement of which they entangled their wings, and landed them on board. they caught albatrosses in the same fashion, and nothing untoward occurred. i had for many months a gentle, loving pet in the shape of a snow-white dove. i had bought him that i might make feather-flowers from his plumage; but the boy brought him off alive, and i never had the heart to kill him. so he lived in a leathern hat-box, and daily took his perch on my shoulder at meal-times [see page ]. it was my lot once upon a time to be down with fever in india. the room in which i lay was the upper flat of an antiquated building, in a rather lonely part of the suburbs of a town. it had three windows, close to which grew a large banyan-tree, beneath the shade of whose branches the crew of a line-of-battle ship might have hung their hammocks with comfort. the tree was inhabited by a colony of crows; we stood--the crows and i--in the relation of over-the-way to each other. now, of all birds that fly, the indian crow most bear the palm for audacity. living by his wits, he is ever on the best of terms with himself, and his impudence leads him to dare anything. whenever, by any chance, pandoo, my attendant, left the room, these black gentry paid me a visit. hopping in by the score, and regarding me no more than the bed-post, they commenced a minute inspection of everything in the room, trying to destroy everything that could not be eaten or carried away. they rent the towels, drilled holes in my uniform, stole the buttons from my coat, and smashed my bottles. one used to sit on a screen close by my bed every day, and scan my face with his evil eye, saying as plainly as could be--"you're getting thinner and beautifully less; in a day or two, you won't be able to lift a hand; then i'll have the pleasure of picking out your two eyes." amid such doings, my servant would generally come to my relief, perhaps to find such a scene as this: two or three pairs of hostile crows with their feathers standing up around their necks, engaged in deadly combat on the floor over a silver spoon or a tooth-brush; half a dozen perched upon every available chair; an unfortunate lizard with a crow at each end of it, getting whirled wildly round the room, each crow thinking he had the best right to it; crows everywhere, hopping about on the table, and drinking from the bath; crows perched on the window-sill, and more crows about to come, and each crow doing all in his power to make the greatest possible noise. the faithful pandoo would take all this in at a glance; then would ensue a helter-skelter retreat, and the windows be darkened by the black wings of the flying crows, then silence for a moment, only broken by some apologetic remark from pandoo. when at length happy days of convalescence came round, and i was able to get up and even eat my meals at table, i found my friends the crows a little more civil and respectful. the thought occurred to me to make friends with them; i consequently began a regular system of feeding them after every meal-time. one old crow i caught, and chained to a chair with a fiddle-string. he was a funny old fellow, with one club-foot. he never refused his food from the very day of his captivity, and i soon taught him a few tricks. one was to lie on his back when so placed for any length of time till set on his legs again. this was called turning the turtle. but one day this bird of freedom hopped away, fiddle-string and all, and a whole fortnight elapsed before i saw him again. i was just beginning to put faith in a belief common in india--namely, that a crow or any other bird, that has been for any time living with human beings, is put to instant death the moment he returns to the bosom of his family; when one day, while engaged breakfasting some forty crows, my club-footed pet reappeared, and actually picked the bit from my hand, and ever after, until i left, he came regularly thrice a day to be fed. the other crows came with surprising exactness at meal-times; first one would alight on the shutter outside the window, and peep in, as if to ascertain how nearly done i happened to be, then fly away for five or ten minutes, when he would return, and have another keek. as soon, however, as i approached the window, and raised my arm, i was saluted with a chorus of cawing from the banyan-tree; then down they swooped in dozens; and it was no very easy task to fill so many mouths, although the loaves were government ones. these pets had a deadly enemy in a brown raven--the brahma kite; swifter than arrow from bow he descended, describing the arc of a great circle, and carrying off in his flight the largest lamp of bread he could spy. he, for one, never stopped to bless the hand of the giver; but the crows, i know, were not ungrateful. club-foot used to perch beside me on a chair, and pick his morsels from the floor, always premising that two windows at least must be open. as to the others, their persecutions ended; they never appeared except when called upon. the last act of their aggression was to devour a very fine specimen of praying mantis i had confined in a quinine bottle. the first day the paper cover had been torn off, and the mantis had only escaped by keeping close at the bottom; next day, the cover was again broken, and the bottle itself capsized; the poor mantis had prayed in vain for once. club-foot, i think, must have stopped all day in the banyan-tree, for i never went to the window to call him without his appearing at once with a joyful caw; this feat i used often to exhibit to my shipmates who came to visit me during my illness. one thing about talking-birds i don't remember ever to have seen noticed--namely, the habit some birds have of talking in their sleep. and, just as a human being will often converse in his dream in a long-forgotten language, so birds will often at night be heard repeating words or phrases they never could remember in their waking moments. a starling of mine often roused me at night by calling out my dog's name in loud, distinct tones, although by day his attempts to do so were quite ineffectual. so with a venerable parrot we had on board the saucy _skipjack_. polly was a quiet bird in daylight, and much given to serious thought; but at times, in the stillness of the middle watch at sea, would startle the sailors from their slumbers by crying out: "deen, deen--kill, kill, kill!" in quite an alarming manner. polly had been all through the indian mutiny, and was shut up in delhi during the sad siege, so her dreams were not very enviable. do parrots know what they say? at times i think they do. our parson on board the old _rumbler_ had no more attentive listener to the sabbath morning service than wardroom polly; but there were times when polly made responses when silence would have been more judicious. there was an amount of humour which it is impossible to describe, in the sly way she one day looked the parson in the face, as he had just finished a burst of eloquence both impassioned and impressive, and uttered one of her impertinent remarks. for some months, she was denied access to church because she had once forgotten herself so far as to draw corks during the sermon--this being considered "highly mutinous and insubordinate conduct." but she regained her privilege. poor poll! i'll never forget the solemn manner in which she shut her eyes one day at the close of the service, as if still musing on the words of the sermon, on the mutability of all things created, and remarked: "vanity, vanity, all is vanity, says--says:" she could say no more--the rest stuck in her throat, and we were left to ponder on her unfortunate loss of memory in uttering the admonitory sentiment. chapter nineteen. my cabin mates and bedfellows: a sketch of life on the coast of africa. "whaur are gaun crawlin' ferlie, your impudence protects ye sairly." burns. i was idly sauntering along the only street in simon's town one fine day in june, when i met my little, fat, good-humoured friend, paymaster pumpkin. he was walking at an enormous pace for the length of his legs, and his round face was redder than ever. he would hardly stop to tell me that h.m.s. _vesuvius_ was ordered off in two hours--provisions for a thousand men--the kaffirs (scoundrels) had crossed some river (name unpronounceable) with an army of one hundred thousand men, and were on their way to cape town, with the murderous intention of breaking every human bone in that fair town, and probably picking them leisurely afterwards. the upshot of all this, as far as i was concerned, was my being appointed to as pretty a model, and as dirty a little craft, as there was in the service, namely, h.m.s. _pen-gun_. our armament consisted of four pea-shooters and one mons meg; and our orders were to repair to the east coast of africa, and there pillage, burn, and destroy every floating thing that dared to carry a slave, without permission from britannia's queen. of our adventures there, and how we ruled the waves, i am at present going to say nothing. i took up my commission as surgeon of this interesting craft, and we soon after sailed. on first stepping on board the _pen-gun_, a task which was by no means difficult to a person with legs of even moderate length, my nose--yes, my nose--that interesting portion of my physiognomy, which for months before had inhaled nothing more nauseous than the perfume of a thousand heaths, or the odour of a thousand roses--my nose was assailed by a smell which burst upon my astonished senses, like a compound of asafoetida, turpentine, and stilton cheese. as i gasped for breath, the lieutenant in command endeavoured to console me by saying--"oh, it's only the cockroaches: you'll get used to it by-and-by." "_only_ the cockroaches!" repeated i to myself, as i went below to look after my cabin. this last i found to be of the following dimensions-- namely, five feet high (i am five feet ten), six feet long, and six feet broad at the top; but, owing to the curve of the vessel's side, only two feet broad at the deck. a cot hung fore and aft along the ship's side, and the remaining furniture consisted of a doll's chest of drawers, beautifully fitted up on top with a contrivance to hold utensils of lavation, and a liliputian writing-table on the other; thus diminishing my available space to two square feet, and this in a break-neck position. my cot, too, was very conveniently placed for receiving the water which trickled freely from my scuttle when the wind blew, and more slowly when the wind didn't; so that every night, very much against my will, i was put under the operations of practical hydropathy. and this was my _sanctum, sanctorum_; but had it been clean, or capable of cleaning, i am a philosopher, and would have rejoiced in it; but it was neither; and ugh! it was inhabited. being what is termed in medical parlance, of the nervo-sanguineous temperament, my horror of the loathsome things about me for the first week almost drove me into a fever. i could not sleep at night, or if i fell into an uneasy slumber, i was awakened from fearful dreams, to find some horrid thing creeping or running over my hands or face. when a little boy, i used to be fond of turning up stones in green meadows, to feast my eyes upon the many creeping things beneath. i felt now as if i myself were living _under_ a stone. however, after a year's slaver-hunting, i got so used to all these creatures, that i did not mind them a bit. i could crack scorpions, bruise the heads of centipedes, laugh at earwigs, be delighted with ants, eat weevils, admire tarantulas, encourage spiders. as for mosquitoes, flies, and all the smaller genera, i had long since been thoroughly inoculated; and they could now bleed me as much as they thought proper, without my being aware of it. it is of the habits of some of these familiar friends i purpose giving a short sketch in this chapter and next. of the "gentlemen of england who live at home at ease," very few, i suspect, would know a cockroach, although they found the animal in their soap--as i have done more than once. cockroaches are of two principal kinds--the small, nearly an inch long; and the large, nearly two and a half inches. let the reader fancy to himself a common horsefly of our own country, half an inch in breadth, and of the length just stated, the body, ending in two forks, which project beyond the wings, the head, furnished with powerful mandibles, and two feelers, nearly four inches long, and the whole body of a dark-brown or gun-barrel colour, and he will have as good an idea as possible of the gigantic cockroach. the legs are of enormous size and strength, taking from fifteen to twenty ants to carry one away, and furnished with bristles, which pierce the skin in their passage over one's face; and this sensation, together with the horrid smell they emit, is generally sufficient to awaken a sleeper of moderate depth. on these legs the animal squats, walking with his elbows spread out, like a practical agriculturist writing an amatory epistle to his lady-love, except when he raises the fore part of his body, which he does at times, in order the more conveniently to stare you in the face. he prefers walking at a slow and respectable pace; but if you threaten him by shaking your finger at him, it is very funny to see how quickly he takes the hint, and hurries off with all his might. what makes him seem more ridiculous is, that he does not appear to take into consideration the comparative length of your legs; he seems impressed with the idea that he can easily run away from you; indeed, i have no doubt he would do so from a greyhound. the creature is possessed of large eyes; and there is a funny expression of conscious guilt and impudence about his angular face which is very amusing; he knows very well that he lives under a ban--that, in fact, existence is a thing he has no business or lawful right with, and consequently he can never look you straight in the face, like an honest fly or moth. the eggs, which are nearly half an inch long, and about one-eighth in breadth, are rounded at the upper edge, and the two sides approach, wedge-like, to form the lower edge, which is sharp and serrated, for attachment to the substance on which they may chance to be deposited. these eggs are attached by one end to the body of the cockroach; and when fully formed, they are placed upon any material which the wisdom of the mother deems fit food for the youthful inmates. this may be either a dress-coat, a cocked-hat, a cork, a biscuit, or a book--in fact, anything softer than stone; and the egg is no sooner laid, than it begins to sink through the substance below it, by an eating or dissolving process, which is probably due to the agency of some free acid; thus, sailors very often (i may say invariably) have their finest uniform-coats and dress-pants ornamented by numerous little holes, better adapted for purposes of ventilation than embellishment. the interior of the egg is transversely divided into numerous cells, each containing the larvae of i know not how many infant cockroaches. the egg gives birth in a few weeks to a whole brood of triangular little insects, which gradually increase till they attain the size of huge oval beetles, striped transversely black and brown, but as yet minus wings. these are usually considered a different species, and called the beetle-cockroach; but having a suspicion of the truth, i one day imprisoned one of these in a crystal tumbler, and by-and-by had the satisfaction of seeing, first the beetle break his own back, and secondly, a large-winged cockroach scramble, with a little difficulty, through the wound, looking rather out of breath from the exertion. on first escaping, he was perfectly white, but in a few hours got photographed down to his own humble brown colour. so much for the appearance of these gentry. now for their character, which may easily be summed up: they are cunning as the fox; greedy as the glutton; impudent as sin; cruel, treacherous, cowardly scoundrels; addicted to drinking; arrant thieves; and not only eat each other, but even devour with avidity their own legs, when they undergo accidental amputation. they are very fond of eating the toe-nails--so fond, indeed, as to render the nail-scissors of no value, and they also profess a penchant for the epidermis--if i may be allowed a professional expression--of the feet and legs; not that they object to the skin of any other part of the body, by no means; they attack the legs merely on a principle of easy come-at-ability. in no way is their cunning better exhibited than in the cautious and wary manner in which they conduct their attack upon a sleeper. we will suppose you have turned in to your swinging cot, tucked in your toes, and left one arm uncovered, to guard your face. by-and-by, first a few spies creep slowly up the bulkhead, and have a look at you: if your eyes are open, they slowly retire, trying to look as much at their ease as possible; but if you look round, they run off with such ridiculous haste and awkward length of steps, as to warrant the assurance that they were up to no good. pretend, however, to close your eyes, and soon after, one, bolder than the rest, walks down the pillow, and stations himself at your cheek, in an attitude of silent and listening meditation. here he stands for a few seconds, then cautiously lowering one feeler, he tickles your face: if you remain quiescent, the experiment is soon repeated; if you are still quiet, then you are supposed to be asleep, and the work of the night begins. the spy walks off in great haste, and soon returns with the working-party. the hair is now searched for drops of oil; the ear is examined for wax; in sound sleepers, even the mouth undergoes scrutiny; and every exposed part is put under the operation of gentle skinning. now is the time to start up, and batter the bulkheads with your slipper; you are sure of half an hour's good sport; but what then? the noise made by the brutes running off brings out the rest, and before you are aware, every crevice or corner vomits forth its thousands, and the bulkheads all around are covered with racing, chasing, fighting, squabbling cockroaches. so numerous, indeed, they are at times, that it would be no exaggeration to say that every square foot contains its dozen. if you are wise, you will let them alone, and go quietly and philosophically to bed, for you may kill hundreds, and hundreds more will come to the funeral-feast. cockroaches are cannibals, practically and by profession. this can be proved in many ways. they eat the dead bodies of their slain comrades; and if any one of them gets sick or wounded, his companions, with a kindness and consideration which cannot be too highly appreciated, speedily put him out of pain, and, by way of reward for their own trouble, devour him. these creatures seem to suffer from a state of chronic thirst; they are continually going and returning from the wash-hand basin, and very careful they are, too, not to tumble in. they watch, sailor-like, the motion of the vessel; when the water flows towards them, they take a few sips, and then wait cautiously while it recedes and returns. yet, for all this caution, accidents do happen, and every morning you are certain to find a large number drowned in the basin. this forms one of the many methods of catching them. i will only mention two other methods in common use. a pickle-bottle, containing a little sugar and water, is placed in the cabin; the animals crawl in, but are unable to get out until the bottle is nearly full, when a few manage to escape, after the manner of the fox in the fable of the "fox and goat in the well;" and if those who thus escape have previously promised to pull their friends out by the long feelers, they very unfeelingly decline, and walk away as quickly as possible, sadder and wiser 'roaches. when the bottle is at length filled, it finds its way overboard. another method is adopted in some ships--the boys have to muster every morning with a certain number of cockroaches; if they have more, they are rewarded; if less, punished. i have heard of vessels being fumigated, or sunk in harbour; but in these cases the number of dead cockroaches, fast decaying in tropical weather, generally causes fever to break out in the ship; so that, if a vessel once gets overrun with them, nothing short of dry-docking and taking to pieces does any good. they are decided drunkards. i think they prefer brandy; but they are not difficult to please, and generally prefer whatever they can get. when a cockroach gets drunk, he becomes very lively indeed, runs about, flaps his wings, and tries to fly--a mode of progression which, except in very hot weather, they are unable to perform. again and again he returns to the liquor, till at last he falls asleep, and by-and-by awakes, and, no doubt filled with remorse at having fallen a victim to so human a weakness, rushes frantically away, and in trying to drink, usually drowns himself. but although the cockroach is, in general, the bloodthirsty and vindictive being that i have described, still he is by no means unsociable, and _has_ his times and seasons of merriment and recreation. on these occasions, the 'roaches emerge from their hiding-places in thousands at some preconcerted signal, perform a reel, or rather an acute-angled, spherically-trigonometrical quadrille, to the music of their own buzz, and evidently to their own intense satisfaction. this queer dance occupies two or three minutes, after which the patter of their little feet is heard no more, the buzz and the bum-m-m are hushed; they have gone to their respective places of abode, and are seen no more for that time. this usually takes place on the evening of a very hot day--a day when pitch has boiled on deck, and the thermometer below has stood persistently above ninety degrees. when the lamps are lit in the wardroom, and the officers have gathered round the table for a quiet rubber at whist, then is heard all about and around you a noise like the rushing of many waters, or the wind among the forest-trees; and on looking up, you find the bulkheads black, or rather brown, with the rustling wretches, while dozens go whirring past you, alight on your head, or fly right in your face. this is a cockroaches' ball, which, if not so brilliant as the butterfly ball of my early recollections, i have no doubt is considered by themselves as very amusing and highly respectable. the reader will readily admit that the character of "greedy as gluttons" has not been misapplied when i state that it would be an easier task to tell what they did _not_ eat, than what they _did_. while they partake largely of the common articles of diet in the ship's stores, they also rather like books, clothes, boots, soap, and corks. they are also partial to lucifer-matches, and consider the edges of razors and amputating-knives delicate eating. [note .] as to drink, these animals exhibit the same impartiality. probably they _do_ prefer wines and spirits, but they can nevertheless drink beer with relish, and even suit themselves to circumstances, and imbibe water, either pure or mixed with soap; and if they cannot obtain wine, they find in ink a very good substitute. cockroaches, i should think, are by no means exempt from the numerous ills that flesh is heir to, and must at times, like human epicures and gourmands, suffer dreadfully from rheums and dyspepsia; for to what else can i attribute their extreme partiality for medicine? "every man his own doctor," seems to be _their_ motto; and they appear to attach no other meaning to the word "surgeon" than simply something to eat: i speak by experience. as to physic, nothing seems to come wrong to them. if patients on shore were only half as fond of pills and draughts, i, for one, should never go to sea. as to powders, they invariably roll themselves bodily in them; and tinctures they sip all day long. blistering-plaster seems a patent nostrum, which they take internally, for they managed to use up two ounces of mine in as many weeks, and i have no doubt it warmed their insides. i one night left a dozen blue pills carelessly exposed on my little table; soon after i had turned in, i observed the box surrounded by them, and being too lazy to get up, i had to submit to see my pills walked off with in a very few minutes by a dozen 'roaches, each one carrying a pill. i politely informed them that there was more than a dose for an adult cockroach in each of these pills; but i rather think they did not heed the caution, for next morning, the deck of my little cabin was strewed with the dead and dying, some exhibiting all the symptoms of an advanced stage of mercurial salivation, and some still swallowing little morsels of pill, no doubt on the principle of _similia similibus curantur_, from which i argue that cockroaches are homoeopathists. that cockroaches are cowards, no one, i suppose, will think of disputing. i have seen a gigantic cockroach run away from an ant, under the impression, i suppose, that the little creature meant to swallow him alive. the smaller-sized cockroach differs merely in size and some unimportant particulars from that just described, and possesses in a less degree all the vices of his big brother. they, too, are cannibals; but they prefer to prey upon the large one, which they kill and eat when they find wounded. for example, one very hot day, i was enjoying the luxury of a bath at noon, when a large cockroach alighted in great hurry on the edge of my bath, and began to drink, without saying "by your leave," or "good-morning to you." now, being by nature of a kind disposition, i certainly should never have refused to allow the creature to quench his thirst in my bath-- although i would undoubtedly have killed him afterwards--had he not, in his hurried flight over me, touched my shoulder with his nasty wings, and left thereon his peculiar perfume. this very naturally incensed me, so seizing a book, with an interjectional remark on his impudence, i struck him to the deck, when he lay to all appearance, dead; so, at least, thought a wily little 'roach of the small genus, that had been watching the whole affair at the mouth of his hole, and determined to seize his gigantic relative, and have a feast at his expense; so, with this praiseworthy intention, the imp marched boldly up to him, pausing just one second, as if to make sure that life was extinct; then, seeing no movement or sign of life evinced by the giant, he very pompously seized him by the fore-leg, and, turning round, commenced dragging his burden towards a hole, no doubt inwardly chuckling at the anticipation of so glorious a supper. unfortunately for the dwarfs hopes, however, the giant now began to revive from the effects of concussion of the brain, into which state my rough treatment had sent him; and his ideas of his whereabouts being rather confused, at the same time feeling himself moving, he very naturally and instinctively began to help himself to follow, by means of his disengaged extremities. being as yet unaware of what had happened behind, the heart of the little gentleman in front swelled big with conscious pride and dignity, at the thought of what a strong little 'roach he was, and how easily he could drag away his big relative. but this new and sudden access of strength began presently to astonish the little creature itself, for, aided by the giant's movements, it could now almost run with its burden, and guessing, i suppose, that everything was not as it ought to be, it peeped over its shoulder to see. fancy, if you can, the terror and affright of the pigmy on seeing the monster creeping stealthily after it. "what had it been doing? how madly it had been acting!" dropping its relative's leg, it turned, and fairly _ran_, helping itself along with its wings, like a barn-door fowl whose wits have been scared away by fright, and never looked once back till fairly free from its terrible adventure; and i have no doubt it was very glad at having discovered its mistake in time, since otherwise the tables might have been turned, and the supper business reversed. so much for cockroaches, and i ought probably to apologise for my description of these gentry being so realistic and graphic. if i ought to, i do. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ note . it is probable that the edges of razors, etc, are destroyed by a sort of acid deposited there by the cockroaches, similar to that which exudes from the egg; however, there is no gainsaying the fact. chapter twenty. my cabin mates--concluded. "the spider spreads her web, whether she be in poet's towers, cellar or barn or tree." shelley. the spider, however, is the great enemy of the small genus of cockroaches. these spiders are queer little fellows. they do not build a web for a fly-trap, but merely for a house. for the capture of their prey, they have a much more ingenious method than any i have ever seen, a process which displays a marvellous degree of ingenuity and cleverness on the part of the spider, and proves that they are not unacquainted with some of the laws of mechanics. having determined to treat himself to fresh meat, the wary little thing (i forgot to say that the creature, although very small in proportion to the generality of tropical spiders, is rather bigger than our domestic spider, and much stronger) emerges from his house, in a corner of the cabin roof, and, having attached one end of a thread to a beam in the roof, about six inches from the bulkhead, he crawls more than half-way down the bulkhead, and attaching the thread here again, goes a little further down, and waits. by-and-by, some unwary 'roach crawls along, between the second attachment of the thread and the spider; instantly the latter rushes from his station, describes half a circle round his victim, lets go the second attachment of the thread--which has now become entangled about the legs of the 'roach--and, by some peculiar movement, which i do not profess to understand, the cockroach is swung off the bulkhead, and hangs suspended by the feet in mid-air; and very foolish he looks; so at least must think the spider, as he coolly stands on the bulkhead quietly watching the unavailing struggles of the animal which he has so nimbly done for; for marwood himself could not have done the thing half so neatly. the spider now regains the beam to which the thread is attached, and, sailor-like, slides down the little rope, and approaches his victim; and first, as its kicking might interfere with the further domestic arrangements of its body, the 'roach is killed, by having a hole eaten out of its head between the eyes. this being accomplished, the next thing is to bring home the butcher-meat; and the manner in which this difficult task is performed is nothing less than wonderful. a thread is attached to the lower part of the body of the 'roach; the spider then "shins" up its rope with this thread, and attaches it so high that the body is turned upside down; it then hauls on the other thread, _turns_ the body once more, and again attaches the thread; and this process is repeated till the dead cockroach is by degrees hoisted up to the beam, and deposited in a corner near the door of its domicile. but the wisdom of the spider is still further shown in what is done next. it knows very well--so, at least, it would appear--that its supply of food will soon decay; and being unacquainted with the properties of salt, it proceeds to enclose the body of the 'roach in a glutinous substance of the form of a chrysalis or air-tight case. it is, in fact, hermetically sealed, and in this way serves the spider as food for more than a week. there is at one end a little hole, which is, no doubt, closed up after every meal. in my cabin, besides the common earwigs, which were not numerous, and were seldom seen, i found there were a goodly number of scorpions, none of which, however, were longer than two inches. i am not aware that they did me any particular damage, further than inspiring me with horror and disgust. it _was_ very unpleasant to put down your hand for a book, and to find a scorpion beneath your fingers--a hard, scaly scorpion--and then to hear him crack below your boot, and to be sensible of the horrid odour emitted from the body: these things were _not_ pleasant. those scorpions which live in ships are of a brown colour, and not dangerous; it is the large green scorpion, so common in the islands of east africa, which you must be cautious in handling, for children, it is said, frequently die from the effects of this scorpion's sting. but a much more loathsome and a really dangerous creature is the large green centipede of the tropics. of these things, the natives themselves have more horror than of any serpent whatever, not excepting the common cobra, and many a tale they have to tell you of people who have been bitten, and have soon after gone raving mad, and so died. they are from six to twelve inches in length, and just below the neck are armed with a powerful pair of sharp claws, like the nails of a cat, with which they hold on to their victim while they bite; and if once fairly fastened into the flesh, they require to be cut out. while lying at the mouth of the revooma river, we had taken on board some green wood, and with it many centipedes of a similar colour. one night, about a week afterwards, i had turned in, and had nearly fallen asleep, when i observed a thing on my curtain--luckily on the outside--which very quickly made me wide awake. it was a horrid centipede, about nine inches long. it appeared to be asleep, and had bent itself in the form of the letter s. i could see its golden-green skin by the light of my lamp, and its wee shiny eyes, that, i suppose, never close, and for the moment i was almost terror-struck. i knew if i moved he would be off, and i might get bitten another time--indeed, i never could have slept again in my cabin, had he not been taken. the steward came at my call; and that functionary, by dint of caution and the aid of a pair of forceps, deposited the creature in a bottle of spirits of wine, which stood at hand always ready to receive such specimens. i have it now beside me; and my scotch landlady, who seemed firmly impressed with the idea that all my diabolical-looking specimens of lizards and various other creeping things are the productions of sundry unhappy patients, remarked concerning my centipede: "he maun hae been a sick and a sore man ye took that ane oot o', doctor." but a worse adventure befell an engineer of ours. he was doing duty in the stokehole, when one of these loathsome creatures actually crept up under his pantaloons. he was an old sailor, and a cool one, and he knew that if he attempted to kill or knock it off, the claws would be inserted on the instant. cautiously he rolled down his dress, and spread a handkerchief on his leg a short distance before the centipede, which was moving slowly and hesitatingly upwards. it was a moment of intense excitement, both for those around him as well as for the man himself. slowly it advanced, once it stopped, then moved on again, and crossed on to the handkerchief, and the engineer was saved; on which he immediately got sick, and i was sent for, heard the story, and received the animal, which i placed beside the other. more pleasant and amusing companions and cabin mates were the little ants, a whole colony of which lived in almost every available corner of my sanctum. wonderfully wise they are too, and very strong, and very proud and "clannish." their prey is the large cockroach. if you kill one of these, and place it in the centre of the cabin, parties of ants troop in from every direction--i might say, a regiment from each clan; and consequently there is a great deal of fighting and squabbling, and not much is done, except that the cockroach is usually devoured on the spot. if, however, the dead 'roach be placed near some corner where an army of ants are encamped, they soon emerge from the camp in hundreds, down they march in a stream, and proceed forthwith to carry it away. slowly up the bulkhead moves the huge brute, impelled by the united force of half a thousand, and soon he is conveyed to the top. here, generally, there is a beam to be crossed, where the whole weight of the giant 'roach has to be sustained by these liliputians, with their heads downward; and more difficult still is the rounding of the corner. very often, the ants here make a most egregious mistake; while hundreds are hauling away at each leg, probably a large number get on top of the 'roach, and begin tugging away with all their might, and consequently their burden tumbles to the deck; but the second time he is taken up, this mistake is not made. these creatures send out regular spies, which return to report when they have found anything worth taking to headquarters; then the foraging-party goes out, and it is quite a sight to see the long serpentine line, three or four deep, streaming down the bulkhead and over the deck, and apparently having no end. they never march straight before them; their course is always wavy; and it is all the more strange that those coming up behind should take exactly the same course, so that the real shape of the line of march never changes. perhaps this is effected by the officer-ants, which you may see, one here, one there, all along the line. by the officer-ants i mean a large-sized ant (nearly double), that walks along by the side of the marching army, like ants in authority. they are black (the common ant being brown), and very important, too, they look, and are no doubt deeply impressed by the responsibility of their situation and duties, running hither and thither--first back, then to the side, and sometimes stopping for an instant with another officer, as if to give or receive orders, and then hurrying away again. these are the ants, i have no doubt, that are in command, and also act as engineers and scouts, for you can always see one or two of them running about, just before the main body comes on--probably placing signal-staffs, and otherwise determining the line of march. they seem very energetic officers too, and allow no obstacle to come in their way, for i have often known the line of march to lie up one side of my white pants, over my knees, and down the other. i sat thus once till a whole army passed over me--a very large army it was too, and mightily tried my patience. when the rear-guard had passed over, i got up and walked away, which must have considerably damaged the calculations of the engineers on their march back. of the many species of flies found in my cabin, i shall merely mention two--namely, the silly fly--which is about the size of a pin-head, and furnished with two high wings like the sails of a chinese junk; they come on board with the bananas, and merit the appellation of _silly_ from the curious habit they have of running about with their noses down, as if earnestly looking for something which they cannot find; they run a little way, stop, change their direction, and run a little further, stop again, and so on, _ad infinitum_, in a manner quite amusing to any one who has time to look at and observe them--and the hammer-legged fly (the _foenus_ of naturalists), which possesses two long hammer-like legs, that stick out behind, and have a very curious appearance. this fly has been accused of biting, but i have never found him guilty. he seems to be continually suffering from a chronic stage of shaking-palsy. wherever he alights--which is as often on your nose as anywhere else--he stands for a few seconds shaking in a manner which is quite distressing to behold, then flies away, with his two hammers behind him, to alight and shake on some other place--most likely your neighbour's nose. it seems to me, indeed, that flies have a penchant for one's nose. nothing, too, is more annoying than those same house-flies in warm countries. suppose one alights on the extreme end of your nasal apparatus, you of course drive him off; he describes two circles in the air, and alights again on the same spot; and this you may do fifty times, and at the fifty-first time, back he comes with a saucy hum-m, and takes his seat again, just as if your nose was made for him to go to roost upon, and for no other purpose at all; so that you are either obliged to sit and smile complacently with a fly on the end of your proboscis, or, if you are clever and supple-jointed, follow him all round the room till you have killed him; then, probably, back you come with a face beaming with gratification, and sit down to your book again, when bum-m-m! there is your friend once more, and you have killed the wrong fly. in an hospital, nothing is more annoying than these flies; sleep by day is sometimes entirely out of the question, unless the patient covers his face, which is by no means agreeable on a hot day. mosquitoes, too, are troublesome customers to a stranger, for they seem to prefer the blood of a stranger to that of any one else. the mosquito is a beautiful, feathery-horned midge, with long airy legs, and a body and wings that tremble with their very fineness and grace. the head and shoulders are bent downward at almost a right angle, as if the creature had fallen on its head and broken its back; but, for all its beauty, the mosquito is a hypocritical little scoundrel, who comes singing around you, apparently so much at his ease, and looking so innocent and gentle, that one would imagine butter would hardly melt in his naughty little mouth. he alights upon your skin with such a light and fairy tread, inserts his tube, and sucks your blood so cleverly, that the mischief is done long before you are aware, and he is off again singing as merrily as ever. probably, if you look about the curtain, you may presently find him gorged with your blood, and hardly able to fly--an unhappy little midge now, very sick, and with all his pride fallen; so you catch and kill him; and serve him right too! i should deem this chapter incomplete if i omitted to say a word about another little member of the company in my crowded cabin--a real friend, too, and a decided enemy to all the rest of the creeping genera about him. i refer to a chameleon i caught in the woods and tamed. his principal food consisted in cockroaches, which he caught very cleverly, and which, before eating, he used to beat against the deck to soften. he lived in a little stone-jar, which made a very cool house for him, and to which he periodically retired to rest; and very indignant he was, too, if any impudent cockroach, in passing, raised itself on its fore-legs to look in. instant pursuit was the consequence, and his colour came and went in a dozen different hues as he seized and beat to death the intruder on his privacy. he seemed to know me, and crawled about me. my buttons were his chief attraction; he appeared to think they were made for him to hang on to by the tail; and he would stand for five minutes at a time on my shoulder, darting his tongue in every direction at the unwary flies which came within his reach; and, upon the whole, i found him a very useful little animal indeed. these lizards are very common as pets among the sailors on the coast of africa, who keep them in queer places sometimes, as the following conversation, which i heard between two sailors at cape town, will show. "look here, jack, what i've got in my 'bacca-box." "what is it?" said jack--"an evil spirit?" "no," said the other, as unconcernedly as if it might have been an evil spirit, but wasn't--"no! a chameleon;" which he pronounced kammy-lion. "queer lion that 'ere, too," replied jack. but, indeed, there are few creatures which a sailor will not attempt to tame. chapter twenty one. containing a tale to banish the creepies. "the noblest mind the best contentment has." spenser. "now," said frank, next night (we are all assembled drinking tea on the lawn), "after all those tales about your foreign favourites, and your pet creepie-creepies, i think the best thing you can do is to come nearer home and change your tactics." "i was dreaming about cockroaches last night," said my wife; "and you know, dear, they are my pet aversion." "yes," cried ida; "do tell us a story to banish the creepies." "well then, here goes. i'll tell you a story about a pet donkey and nero's son, `hurricane bob.' will that do? and we'll call it--" ------------------------------------------------------------------------ jeannie's boarding-house: a seaside story. "jeannie was an ass. i do not make this remark in any disparaging way, for a more interesting member of the genus donkey never, i believe, stood upon four legs. indeed, i do not think i would be going too far if i said that i have known many individuals not half so wise who stood upon two. now, although i mention jeannie in the past tense, it is because she is not present with me, but she is still, i believe, alive and well, and is at this moment, i have little doubt, quietly cropping the grass on her own green field, or gazing pensively at the ocean from the worthing sands. "i must tell you who was my travelling companion when i first made the acquaintance of the heroine of this little sketch. he was a very large jet-black newfoundland dog. such a fellow! and with such a coat too, not one curly hair in all his jacket, all as straight as quills, and as sheeny as the finest satin. hurricane bob can play in the sea, toying with the waves for hours, and still not be wet quite to the skin, and when he comes on shore again he just gives himself a shake or two, buckets of water fly in all directions, for the time being he looks like an animated mop, then away he feathers across the sands, and in a few minutes he is dry enough for the drawing-room. bob is quite an aristocrat in his own way, and every inch a gentleman--one glance at his beautiful face and his wide, thoughtful eyes would convince you of this--nor, on being introduced to him, would you be surprised to be told that not only is he a winner of many prizes himself, but that his father is a champion dog, and his grandfather before him as well. i do not think that hurricane bob--or master robert, as we call him on high days and holidays--has a single fault, unless probably the habit he has of going tearing along the streets and roads, when out for a walk, at the rate of twenty miles an hour. it is this habit which has gained for him the sobriquet of hurricane; it is sometimes a little awkward for the lieges, but to his credit be it said that whenever he runs down a little boy or girl he never fails to stop and apologise on the spot, licking the hands of the prostrate one, and saying, as plainly as a dog can speak, `there, there, i didn't really mean to hurt you, and you'll be all right again in a minute.' "we called the place where jeannie lived, at worthing, jeannie's boarding-house. it was a nice roomy stable, with a coach-house, a yard for exercise, and a loose-box. the door of the stable was always left open at jeannie's request, so that she could go out and in as she pleased. the loose-box was told off to hurricane bob; he had a dish of nice clean water, a box to hold his dog-biscuits, and plenty of dry straw, so he was as happy as a king. "when his landlady, jeannie, first saw him she sniffed him all over, while bob looked up in her face. "`just you be careful, old lady,' said bob, `for i might be tempted to catch you by the nose.' "but jeannie was satisfied. "`you'll do, doggie,' she said; `there doesn't seem to be an ounce of real harm in your whole composition.' "the other members of jeannie's boarding establishment were about twenty hens, old and young, more useful perhaps than ornamental. now, any other landlady in the world would have had a bad time of it with this ill-bred feathered squad, for they were far from polite to her, and constantly grumbling about their food; they said they hadn't enough of it, and that it was not good what they did get. then they were continually squabbling or fighting with each other; the little fowls always stole all the big pieces, and the big fowls chased and pecked the little ones all round the yard in consequence, till their backs, under their feathers, must have been black and blue, and they hadn't peace to eat the portion they had stolen. `tick, tuck,' the big fowl would say; `tick, tuck, take that, and that; tick, tuck, that's what greed gets.' "but jeannie was a philosopher, she simply looked at them with those quiet brown eyes of hers, shook one ear, and said-- "`grumble away, grumble away, i'm too well known to be afraid of ye; ye can't bring disgrace on my hotel. hee, haw! haw, hee! there!' "hurricane bob paid his bill _every_ morning and every night with a dog-biscuit. the first morning i offered jeannie the biscuit she looked at me. "`do you take me for a dog?' she asked. then she sniffed it. `it do smell uncommonly nice,' she said; `i'll try it, anyhow.' so she took the cake in her mouth, and marched into the yard; but returned almost immediately, still holding it between her teeth. "`what's the correct way to eat it?' she inquired. "`that's what i want you to find out,' i said. "poor jeannie! she tried to break it against the door, then against the wall, and finally against the paving stone, but it resisted all her efforts. then, `oh! i know,' she cried. `you puts it on the ground, and holes it like a turnip.' n.b.--i'm not accountable for jeannie's bad grammar. "every morning, when i came to see master robert, jeannie ran to meet me, and put her great head under my arm for a cuddle. she called me arthur, but that isn't my name. she pronounced the first syllable in a double bass key, and the second in a shrill treble. ar--thur! haw, hee! haw, hee! "she was funny, was jeannie. some mornings, as soon as she caught sight of me, she used to go off into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, then she would apologise. "`i can't help it, arthur,' she seemed to say. `it does seem rude, i daresay, but i really can't help it. it's the sight of you that does it. hee, haw! hee, haw!' "one day, and one day only, bob and his landlady nearly had a quarrel. jeannie, having eaten her own biscuit, burst into the loose-box, to help the dog with his. `ho, ho!' said hurricane robert, `you've come to raise the rent, have ye? just look at this, old lady.' as he spoke, the dog lifted one lip, and showed such a display of alabaster teeth, that jeannie was glad to retire without raising the rent. "what was jeannie like, did you ask? why, straight in back and strong in limb, with beautiful long ears to switch away the flies in summer, with mild, intelligent eyes of hazel brown, and always a soft, smooth patch on the top of her nose for any one to kiss who was so minded. in winter jeannie was rough in coat. she preferred it, she said, because it kept out the cold, and made an excellent saddle for her three little playmates to ride upon. of these she was exceedingly fond, and never more pleased and proud than when the whole three of them were on her back at one time--wee, brown-eyed, laughing lovat s--; young ernie, bold and bright and free; and little winsome winnie c--. "to be sure they often fell off, but there was where the fun and the glee lay, especially when jeannie sometimes bent her nose to the ground and let them all tumble on the sand in a heap. and that, you know, was jeannie's joke, and one that she was never tired of repeating. "in summer jeannie shone, positively shone, all over like a race-horse or a boatman beetle, and then i can tell you it was no easy matter for her playmates to stick on her back at all. she was particularly partial, as you have seen, to the society of human beings, and brightened up wonderfully as soon as a friend appeared on the scene, but i think when alone she was rather of a contemplative turn of mind. there was a rookery not far from jeannie's abode, and at this she never tired gazing. "`well,' said jeannie to me one day, `they do be funny creatures, those rooks. i don't think i should like to live up there, ar--thur. and they're always a-fighting too, just like my boarders be, and never a thing do they say from morning till night but caw, caw, caw. now if they could only make a few remarks like this, haw, hee! haw, hee! haw hee!' "`oh! don't, pray don't, jeannie,' i cried, with my fingers in my ears. "and now, then, what do you think made jeannie such a bright, loving, and intelligent animal? why, kindness and good treatment. "dear old jeannie, i may never gaze upon her classic countenance again, but i shall not forget her. in my mind's eye i see her even now, as i last beheld her. the sun had just gone down, behind a calm and silent sea; scarcely do the waves speak as they break in ripples on the sand, they do but whisper. and the clouds are tipped with gold and crimson, and far away in the offing is a ship, a single ship, and these are all the signs of life there are about, save jeannie on the beach. alone. "i wonder what she was thinking about." chapter twenty two. an evening spent at our own fireside. "well, puss," says man, "and what can you to benefit the public do?" gay. "draw round your chair," said i to frank; "and now for a comfortable, quiet evening." frank and i had been away all the afternoon, on one of our long rambles. very pleasantly shone the morning sun, that had wooed us away; the ground was frozen hard as iron, there wasn't a cloud in himmel's blue, nor a breath of wind from one direction or another. but towards evening a change had come suddenly over the spirit of the day's dream, which found my friend and i still a goodly two hours' stride from home. heavy grey clouds had come trooping up from the north-east, borne along on the fierce fleet wings of a ten-knot breeze; then the snow had come on, such snow as seldom falls in "bonnie berks;" and soon we were surrounded by one of the wildest wintry nights ever i remember. talking was impossible; we could but clutch our sticks and boldly hurry onwards, while the wind sighed and roared through the telegraph-wires, and the snow sifted angrily through the leafless hedgerows. it was a night that none save a healthy man could have faced. ah! but didn't the light from the cosy, red-curtained window, streaming over our own snow-silvered lawn, amply reward us at last; while the nice dinner quite put the climax on our happiness. "now for your story," said frank. "now for my story," i replied; "i will call it--" ------------------------------------------------------------------------ the fireside favourite: an autobiography. "the lines of some cats fall in pleasant places. mine have. i'm the fireside favourite, i'm the parlour pet. i'm the _beau ideal_, so my mistress says, of what every decent, respectable, well-trained cat ought to be--and i looked in the glass and found it so. but pray don't think that i am vain because i happen to know the usages of polite society, and the uses and abuses of the looking-glass. no cat, in my opinion, with any claim to the dignity of lady-puss, would think of washing her face unless in front of a plate-glass mirror. but i will not soon forget the day i first knew what a looking-glass meant. i was then only a silly little mite of a kitten, of a highly inquiring turn of mind. well, one evening my young mistress was going to a ball, and before she went she spent about three hours in her dressing-room, doing something, and then she came down to the parlour, looking more like an angel than ever i had seen her. oh, how she was dressed, to be sure. and she had little bunches of flowers stuck on all over her dress, and i wanted to play at `mousies' with them; but she wouldn't wait, she just kissed me and bade me be a good kitten and not run up the curtains, and then off she went. yes; i meant to be an awfully good little kitten--but first and foremost i meant to see the interior of that mysterious room. by good luck the door was ajar, so in i popped at once, and made direct for the table. such a display of beautiful things i had never seen before. i didn't know what they all meant then, but i do now, for, mind you, i will soon be twenty years of age. but i got great fun on that table. i tried the gold rings on my nose, and the earrings on my toes, and i knocked off the lid of a powder-box, and scattered the crimson contents all abroad. then i had a fearful battle with a puff which i unearthed from another box. during the fight a bottle of ylang-ylang went down. i didn't care a bit. crash went a bottle of flower-water next. i regarded it not. i fought the puff till it took refuge on the floor. then i paused, wondering what i should do next, when behold! right in front of me and looking through a square of glass, and apparently wondering what _it_ should do next, was the ugliest little wretch of a kitten ever you saw in your life--i marched up to it as brave as a button, and it had the audacity to come and meet me. "`you ugly, deformed little thing,' i cried, `what do you want in my lady's room?' "`the same to you,' it seemed to say, `and many of them.' "`for two pins,' i continued, `i would scratch your nasty little eyes out--yah--fuss-s!' "`yah--fuss-s!' replied the foe, lifting its left paw as i lifted my right. "this was too much. i crept round the corner to give her a cuff. she wasn't there! i came back, and there she was as brazen as ever. i tried this game on several times, but couldn't catch her. `then,' says i, `you'll catch it where you stand, in spite of the pane of glass!' "i struck straight from the shoulder, and with a will too. down went the glass, and i found i had been fighting all the time with my own reflection. funny, wasn't it? "when mistress came home there was such a row. but she was sensible, and didn't beat me. she took me upstairs, and showed me what i had done, and looked so vexed that i was sorry too. `it is my own fault, though,' she said; `i ought to have shut the door.' "she presented me with a looking-glass soon after this, and it is quite surprising how my opinion of that strange kitten in the mirror altered after that. i thought now i had never seen such a lovely thing, and i was never tired looking at it. no more i had. but first impressions _are_ so erroneous, you know. "my dear mother is dead and gone years ago--of course, considering my age, you won't marvel at that; and my young mistress is married long, long ago, and has a grown family, who are all as kind as kind can be to old tom, as they facetiously call me. and so they were to my mother, who, i may tell you, was only three days in her last illness, and gave up the ghost on a file of old newspapers (than which nothing makes a better bed), and is buried under the old pear-tree. "dear me, how often i have wondered how other poor cats who have neither kind master nor mistress manage to live. but, the poor creatures, they are so ignorant--badly-bred, you know. why, only the other day the young master brought home a poor little cat he had found starving in the street. well, i never in all my life saw such an ill-mannered, rude little wretch, for no sooner had it got itself stuffed with the best fare in the house, than it made a deliberate attempt to steal the canary. there was gratitude for you! now, mind, i don't say that _i_ shouldn't like to eat the canary, but i never have taken our own birds-- no--always the neighbours'. i did, just once, fly at our own canary's cage when i was quite a wee cat, but i didn't know any better. and what do you think my mistress did? why, she took the bird out of the cage and popped me in; and there i was, all day long, a prisoner, with nothing for dinner but seeds and water, and the canary flying about the room and doing what it liked, even helping itself to my milk. i never forgot that. "some cats, you know, are arrant thieves, and i don't wonder at it, the way they are kicked and cuffed about, put out all night, and never offered food or water. i would steal myself if i were used like that, wouldn't you, madam? but i have my two meals a day, regularly; and i have a nice double saucer, which stands beside my mirror, and one end contains nice milk and the other clean water, and i don't know which i like the best. when i am downright thirsty, the water is so nice; but at times i am hungry and thirsty both, if you can understand me--then i drink the milk. at times i am allowed to sit on the table when my mistress is at breakfast, and i often put out my paw, ever so gently, and help myself to a morsel from her plate; but i wouldn't do it when she isn't looking. the other day i took a fancy to a nice smelt, and i just went and told my mistress and led her to the kitchen, and i got what i wanted at once. "i am never put out at night. i have always the softest and warmest of beds, and in winter, towards morning, when the fire goes out, i go upstairs and creep (singing loudly to let her know it is i) into my mistress's arms. "if i want to go on the tiles any night, i have only to ask. a fellow does want to go on the tiles now and then, doesn't he? oh, it is a jolly thing, is a night on the tiles! one of these days i may give you my experience of life on the tiles, and then you'll know all about it-- in the meantime, madam, you may try it yourself. let it be moonlight, and be cautious, you know, for, as you have only two feet, you will feel rather awkward at first. "did i ever know what it was to be hungry? yes, indeed, once i did; and i'm now going to tell you of the saddest experience in all my long life. you see it happened like this. it was autumn; i was then about five years of age, and a finer-looking tom, i could see by my mirror, never trod on four legs. for some days i had observed an unusual bustle both upstairs and downstairs. the servants, especially, seemed all off their heads, and did nothing but open doors and shut them, and nail up things in large boxes, and drink beer and eat cold meat whenever they stood on end. what was up, i wondered? went and asked my mistress. `off to the seaside, pussy tom,' said she; `and you're going too, if you're good.' i determined to be good, and not make faces at the canary. but one night i had been out rather late at a cat-concert, and, as usual, came home with the milk in the morning. in order to make sure of a good sleep i went upstairs to an unused attic, as was my wont, and fell asleep on an old pillow. how long i slept i shall never know, but it must have been far on in the day when i awoke, feeling hungry enough to eat a hunter. as i trotted downstairs the first thing that alarmed me was the unusual stillness. i mewed, and a thousand echoes seemed to mock me. the ticking of the old clock on the stairs had never sounded to me so loud and clear before. i went, one by one, into every room. nothing in any of them but the stillness, apparently, of death and desolation. the blinds were all down, and i could even hear the mice nibbling behind the wainscot. "my heart felt like a great cold lump of lead, as the sad truth flashed upon my mind--my kind mistress had gone, with all the family, and i was left, forgotten, deserted! my first endeavour was to find my way out. had i succeeded, even then i would have found my mistress, for cats have an instinct you little wot of. but every door and window was fastened, and there wasn't a hole left which a rat could have crept through. "what nights and days of misery followed!--it makes me shudder to think of them even now. "for the first few days i did not suffer much from hunger. there were crumbs left by the servants, and occasionally a mouse crept out from the kitchen fender, and i had that. but by the fifth day the crumbs had all gone, and with them the mice, too, had disappeared. they nibbled no more in the cupboard nor behind the wainscot; and as the clock had run down there wasn't a sound in the old house by night or by day. i now began to suffer both from hunger and thirst. i spent my time either mewing piteously at the hall-door, or roaming purposelessly through the empty house, or watching, watching, faint and wearily, for the mice that never came. perhaps the most bitter part of my sufferings just then was the thought that would keep obtruding itself on my mind, that for all the love with which i had loved my mistress, and the faithfulness with which i had served her, she had gone away, and left, me to die all alone in the deserted house. me, too, who would have laid down my life to please her had she only stayed near me. "how slowly the time dragged on--how long and dreary the days, how terrible the nights! perhaps it was when i was at my very worst, that i happened to be standing close by my empty saucer, and in front of my mirror. at that time i was almost too weak to walk; i tottered on my feet, and my head swam and moved from side to side when i tried to look at anything. suddenly i started. could that wild, attenuated image in the mirror be my reflection? how it glared upon me from its glassy eyes! and now i knew it could not be mine, but some dreadful thing sent to torture me. for as i gazed it uttered a yell--mournful, prolonged, unearthly--and dashed at me through and out from the mirror. for some time we seemed to writhe together in agony on the carpet. then up again we started, the mirror-fiend and i. `follow me fast!' it seemed to cry, and i was impelled to follow. wherever it was, there was i. how it tore up and down the house, yelling as it went and tearing everything in its way! how it rushed half up the chimney, and was dashed back again by invisible hands! how it flung itself, half blind and bleeding, at the venetian blinds, and how madly it tried again to escape into the mirror and shivered the glass! then mills began in my head--mills and machinery--and the roar of running waters. then i found myself walking all alone in a green and beautiful meadow, with a blue sky overhead and birds and butterflies all about, a cool breeze fanning my brow, and, better than all, _water_, pure, and clear, and cool, meandering over brown smooth pebbles, beside which the minnows chased the sunbeams. and i drank--and slept. "when i awoke, i found myself lying on the mat in the hall, and the sunlight shimmering in through the stained glass, and falling in patches of green and crimson on the floor. very cold now, but quiet and sensible. there was a large hole in my side, and blood was all about, so i must have, in my delirium, _torn the flesh from my own ribs and devoured it_. [note .] "i knew now that death was come, and would set me free at last. "then the noise of wheels in my ears, and the sound of human voices; then a blank; and then some one pouring something down my throat; and i opened my eyes and beheld my dear young mistress. how she was weeping! the sight of her sorrow would have melted your heart. `oh, pussy, pussy, do not die!' she was crying. "pussy didn't die; but till this day i believe it was only to please my dear mistress i crept back again to life and love. "i'm very old now, and my thoughts dwell mostly in the past, and i like a cheery fire and a drop of warm milk better than ever. but i have all my faculties and all my comforts. we have other cats in the house, but i never feel jealous, for my mistress, look you, loves me better than all the cats in the kingdom--fact--she told me so." ------------------------------------------------------------------------ note . not overdrawn. a case of the kind actually occurred some years ago in the new town of edinburgh.--the author. chapter twenty three. "greyfriars' bobby"--"pepper"--the blind fiddler's dog. "alas! for love if this were all, and nought beyond on earth." "a good story cannot be too often told," said frank one evening. "well, i doubt that very much," said my wife; "there is a probability of a good story being spoiled by over-recital." "i'm of the same opinion," i assented; "but as i intend the story of `greyfriars' bobby' to be printed in my next book, i will just read it over to you as i have written it." i had fain hoped, i began, to find out something of bobby's antecedents, and something about the private history of the poor man grey, who died long before bobby became a hero in the eyes of the world, and attracted the kindly notice of the good and noble william chambers, then lord provost of edinburgh. i have been unable to do so, however; even an advertisement in a local paper failed to elicit the information i so much desired. what mr grey was, or who he was, no one can tell me. some years ago, runs an account of this loving, faithful dog, a stranger arrived in edinburgh bringing with him a little rough-haired dog, that slept in the same room with him, and followed him in his walks, but no one knew who the stranger was, or whence he came. the following account of bobby is culled from the _animal world_ of the second of may, :-- "it is reported that bobby is a small rough scotch terrier, grizzled black, with tan feet and nose; and his story runs thus:--more than eleven years ago, a poor man named grey died, and was buried in the old greyfriars churchyard, edinburgh. his grave is now levelled by time, and nothing marks it. but the spot had not been forgotten by his faithful dog. james brown, the old curator, remembers the funeral well, and that bobby was one of the most conspicuous of the mourners. james found the dog lying on the grave the next morning; and as dogs are not admitted he turned him out. the second morning the same; the third morning, though cold and wet, there he was, shivering. the did man took pity on him and fed him. this convinced the dog that he had a right there. sergeant scott, r.e., allowed him his board for a length of time, but for more than nine years he had been regularly fed by mr trail, who keeps a restaurant close by. bobby is regular in his calls, being guided by the mid-day gun. on the occasion of the new dog-tax being raised, many persons, the writer amongst the number, wrote to be allowed to pay for bobby, but the lord provost of edinburgh exempted him, and, to mark his admiration of fidelity, presented him with a handsome collar, with brass nails, and an inscription:--`greyfriars' bobby, presented to him by the lord provost of edinburgh, .' he has long been an object of curiosity, and his constant appearance in the graveyard has led to numberless inquiries about him. many efforts have been made to entice him away, but unsuccessfully, and he still clings to the consecrated spot, and from to the present time he has kept watch thereon. upon his melancholy couch bobby hears the bells toll the approach of new inmates to the sepulchres around and about him; and as the procession solemnly passes, who shall say that the ceremony enacted over his dead master does not reappear before him? he sees the sobs and tears of the bereaved, and do not these remind him of the day when he stood with other mourners over the coffin which contained everything he loved on earth? in that clerical voice he rehears those slow and impressive tones which consigned his master's body to ashes and dust. all these reminiscences are surely felt more or less; and yet bobby, trustful, patient, enduring, continues to wait on the spot sacred to the memory of poor grey. poor grey, did we say? why, hundreds of the wealthiest amongst us would give a fortune to have placed upon their tombs a living monument of honour like this!--testifying through long years and the bitterest winters (with a blessed moral for mankind) that death cannot dissolve that love which love alone can evoke. when our eye runs over the gravestone records of departed goodness, we are sometimes sceptical whether there is not much mockery in many of the inscriptions, though the friends of the deceased have charitably erected an outward mark of their esteem. but here we have a monument that knows neither hypocrisy nor conventional respect, which appeals to us not in marble (the work of men's hands), but in the flesh and blood of _a living creature that cannot be tempted to desert his trust_--in the devotion of a friend whose short wanderings to and fro prove how truly he gravitates to one yard of earth only--in the determination of a sentinel _who means to die at his post_. "i hear they say 'tis very lung that years hae come and gane, sin' first they put my maister here, an' grat an' left him lane. i could na, an' i did na gang, for a' they vexed me sair, an' said sae bauld that they nor should ever see him mair. "i ken he's near me a' the while, an' i will see him yet; for a' my life he tended me. an' noo he'll not forget. some blithesome day i'll hear his step; there'll be nae kindred near; for a' they grat, they gaed awa',-- but he shall find _me_ here. "is time sae lang?--i dinna mind; is't cauld?--i canna feel; he's near me, and he'll come to me, an' sae 'tis very weel. i thank ye a' that are sae kind, as feed an' mak me braw; ye're unco gude, but ye're no _him_-- ye'll no wile me awa'. "i'll bide an' hope!--do ye the same; for ance i heard that ye had ay a master that ye loo'd, an' yet ye might na see; a master, too, that car'd for ye, (o, sure ye winna flee!) that's wearying to see ye noo--. ye'll no be waur than me?" in the above account the words which i have italicised should be noted, viz, "a living creature that cannot be tempted to desert his trust, who means to die at his post." these words were in a sense prophetic, for bobby never did desert the graveyard where his master's remains lie buried, until death stepped in to relieve his sorrows. the following interesting letter is from bobby's guardian, mr trail, of greyfriars place, edinburgh, who will, i feel sure, pardon the liberty i take in publishing it _in extenso_:-- "in answer to your note in reference to greyfriars bobby, i send the following extracts which state correctly the dates and other particulars concerning the little dog:--" _scotsman_, january th, :--many will be sorry to hear that the poor but interesting dog, greyfriars bobby, died on sunday evening, january th, . every kind attention was paid to him in his last days by his guardian mr trail, who has had him buried in a flower plot near the greyfriars church. his collar, a gift from lord provost chambers, has been deposited in the office at the church gate. mr brodie has successfully modelled the figure of greyfriars bobby, which is to surmount the very handsome memorial to be erected by the munificence of baroness burdett-coutts. "`edinburgh veterinary college, _march_, . "`to those who may feel interested in the history of the late greyfriars bobby, i may state that he suffered from disease of a cancerous nature affecting the whole of the lower jaw. "`thomas wallet. "`professor of animal pathology.' "there are several notices of an interesting nature in the following numbers of the _animal world_ concerning greyfriars bobby:--november st, ; may nd, ; february st, ; march nd, . "the fountain is erected at the end of george the fourth bridge, near the entrance to the greyfriars churchyard. it is of westmoreland granite, and bears the following inscription:--`a tribute to the affectionate fidelity of greyfriars bobby.' "in , this faithful dog followed the remains of his master to greyfriars churchyard, and lingered near the spot until his death in . old james brown died in the autumn of . there is no tombstone on the grave of bobby's master. greyfriars bobby was buried in the flower plot near the stained-glass window of the church, and opposite the gate." poor bobby, then, passed away on a sunday evening, after watching near the grave for fourteen long years. he died of a cancerous affection of the lower jaw, brought on, doubtless, from the constant resting of his chin on the cold earth. i trust he did not suffer much. i feel convinced that bobby is happy now; but no stone marks the humble grave where bobby's master lies. i wish it were otherwise, for surely there must have been good in the breast of that man whom a dog loved so dearly, and to whose memory he was faithful to the end. the picture of greyfriars bobby here given is said to be a very good one, see page . you can hardly look at that wistful, pitiful little countenance, all rough and unkempt as it is, without _feeling_ the whole truth of the story of bobby's faithfulness and love. "ah!" said frank, when i had finished, "dogs are wonderful creatures." "no one knows how wonderful, frank," i said. "by the way, did ever you hear of, or read the account of, poor young gough and his dog? the dog's master perished while attempting to climb the mountain of helvellyn. there had been a fall of snow, which partly hid the path and made the ascent dangerous. it was never known whether he was killed by a fall or died of hunger. three months went by before his body was found, during which time it was watched over by a faithful dog which mr gough had with him at the time of the accident. the fidelity of the dog was the subject of a poem which wordsworth wrote, beginning:-- "`a barking sound the shepherd hears,' etc. "and now, ida, i'll change the tone of my chapter into a less doleful ditty, and tell you about another scotch, or rather skye-terrier, who was the means, in the hands of providence, of saving life in a somewhat remarkable manner. though i give the story partly in my own words, it was communicated to me by a lady of rank, who is willing to vouch for the authenticity of the incident." ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "pepper." pepper was our hero's name. and pepper was a dog; but i am unable to tell you anything about his birth or pedigree. i do not even know who pepper's father was, and i don't think pepper knew himself or cared much either; but had you seen him you would have had no hesitation in pronouncing him one of the handsomest little skye-terriers ever you had beheld. pepper was presented to his mistress, the hon. mrs c--, by her mother-in-law, the late lady dun d--, and soon became a great favourite both with her and all the family. he was so cleanly in his habits, so brave and knightly, so very polite, and had a happy mixture of drollery and decorum about him which was quite charming! every one liked pepper. but "liked" is really not the proper word to express the strong affection which the lady portion of the household felt for him. they loved pepper. that's better. he was to them the "dearest and best fellow" in the world. but woe is me that the best of friends must part. and so it came to pass that pepper's loving mistress had to go to town on business, or pleasure, or perhaps a mixture of both. now, everybody knows that the great wondrous world of london isn't the place to keep dogs in, that is, if one wishes to see them truly happy and comfortable. for as they don't wear shoes, as human beings do, they find the hard, stony streets very punishing to their poor little soft feet. then they miss the green fields in which they used to romp, the hawthorn fences near which they used to find the hedgehog and mole, the crystal streams at which they were wont to quench their thirst, and the ponds in which they bathed or swam. besides, there is danger for dogs in london. the danger of losing their way, the danger of being stolen, and the still greater danger of being run over by carts or carriages. but that isn't all, for in the country you can keep even a long-haired skye clean--clean enough, indeed, to sleep on the hearthrug, or even curl himself up on ottoman or couch, without his leaving any more mark or trace than my lady's muff or the persian pussy does; but a skye-terrier in london is quite a different piece of furniture. london mud is proverbially black and sticky, and when a skye gets thoroughly soused in it, why, not to put too fine a point on it, he isn't just the sort of pet one would care to put under his head as a pillow. taking pepper to london, therefore, would have involved endless washings of him, the risk of his catching cold, and, dreadful thought! the risk of offending the servants. true, he might be kept to the kitchen, but banished from the society of his dear mistress, and compelled to associate with servants and the kitchen cat; why, poor little pepper would simply have broken his heart. so the question came to be asked-- "maggie, dear, what _shall_ we do with pepsy?" "oh! i have it," said maggie; "send him down to brighton on a visit to dear mrs w--y; she is such a kind creature, knows all the ways of animals so well; and, moreover, pepper is on the best of terms with her already." so the proposal was agreed to, and a few days afterwards mrs w--y received her little visitor very graciously indeed, and pepper was pleased to express his approval of the welcome accorded him, and soon settled down, and became very happy in his brighton home. his greatest delight was going out with his temporary mistress for a ramble; there was so much to be seen and inquired into, so many pretty children who petted him, so many ladies who admired him, and so many little doggies to see and talk to and exchange opinions on canine politics. but pepper used to express his delight at going for a walk in a way which his new mistress deemed anything but dignified. people don't generally care about having all eyes directed towards them on a public thoroughfare like the brighton esplanade, or king's road. but pepper didn't care a bark who looked at him. he was intoxicated with joy, and didn't mind who knew it; consequently, he used, when taken out, to go through a series of the most wonderful acrobatic evolutions ever seen at a seaside watering-place, or anywhere else. he jumped and barked, and chased his tail, rolled and tumbled, leapt clean over his own head and back again, and even made insane attempts to jump down his own throat. inside, pepper was content to romp and roll on the floor with a pet guinea-pig, and chase it or be chased by it round and round the room, or tenderly play with some white mice; but no sooner was his nose outside the garden gate, than pepper felt himself in duty bound to take leave of his senses without giving a moment's warning, and conduct himself in every particular just like a daft doggie, and had there been a lunatic asylum at brighton for caninity, i haven't a doubt that pepper would have soon found himself an inmate of it. one day when out walking, pepper met a little long-haired dog about his own size and shape, but whereas pepper was dressed like a gentleman skye, in coat of hodden-grey, this little fellow was more like a merry man at a country fair, or a clown at a circus. he had been originally white, pure white, but his master had dyed him, and now he appeared in a blue body, a magenta tail, and ears of brightest green. "i say, mistress," said pepper, looking up and addressing the lady who had charge of him, "did you--ever--in--all--your--born--days--see such a fright as that?" "hullo!" he continued, talking to the little dog himself, "who let you out like that?" "well," replied the new-comer, "i dare say i do look a little odd, but you'll get used to me by-and-by." "used to you?" cried pepper--"never! you are a disgrace to canine society." "the fact is," said the other, looking somewhat ashamed "my master is a dyer, and he does me up like this just by way of advertising, you know." "your master a dyer," cried pepper, "then you, too, shall die. can you fight? i'm full of it. come, we must have it out." "come back, pepper, come back, sir!" cried his mistress. but for once pepper disobeyed; he flew at that funny dog, and in a few minutes the air was filled with the blue and magenta fluff, that the skye tore out of his antagonist. the combat ended in a complete victory for pepper. he routed his assailant, and finally chased him off the esplanade. pepper's life at the seaside was a very happy one, or would have been except for the dyed dog, that he made a point of giving instant chase to, whenever he saw him. pepper next turned up in wales. sir b. n--had taken a lovely old mansion between c--n and ll--o, far removed from any other houses, and quite amongst the hills, and after seeing his wife and sister settled in the new abode, he went off to scotland. a week after his departure, the two ladies got up a small picnic to dolbadran castle, whose ruins stand upon a steep rock overhanging the lake. pepper of course accompanied the tourists, and the whole party returned at night rather fatigued. mrs c--went to bed, and soon fell into a sound sleep, from which she was aroused by pepper; he was barking at the bedside. she got up, gave him some water, and returned to bed, but pepper continued to bark and run about the room in a very strange way; he seized the bedclothes, and pulled at them violently. so she put him outside the door in a long passage, which was closed at the other end by a thick green-baize covered door. poor mrs c--was fated to have no rest. pepper barked louder than ever, he tore at the door, and scratched as if he wished to pull it down; so his mistress again left her couch, and taking up a small riding-whip, proceeded to administer what she thought to be well-merited correction. pepper did not appear to care for the whip at all; he only barked the louder, and jumped up wilder; he even caught mrs c--'s nightdress in his mouth, and attempted to drag her on towards the end of the passage. you must be going mad, she thought. i'll put you out of the house, for you will alarm the whole establishment; and thus thinking, she returned, followed by pepper, who continued to clutch at her garments, into her room, put on her dressing-gown, and proceeded to carry her intention into effect. directly she opened the door at the end of the passage, she saw a bright light streaming from a sort of ante-room at the top of the staircase, on the opposite side of the corridor, and at the same moment became sensible of a strange smell of burning wood. she flew across, and was nearly blinded by the smoke that burst forth immediately the ante-room door was opened. the whole house was on fire, and it was with considerable difficulty that mrs c--, lady n--, and the domestics, escaped from the burning mass. had mrs c--been five minutes later before discovering the flames all must have perished; for there was a great quantity of wood-work in the house, and it burnt rapidly. it matters little how the fire in this case originated, the fact remains that this skye-terrier, pepper, was the first to discover it, and his wonderful sagacity and determination, combined to save his friends from a fearful death. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "ida," said frank, refilling his pipe, "you are beginning to wink." "it is time you were in bed, ida," said my wife. "oh! but i do want to hear you read what you wrote yesterday about the poor blind fiddler's dog," cried ida. "well, then," i said, "we will bring the little dog on the boards, and make him speak a piece himself, and this will be positively the last story or anecdote to-night." ------------------------------------------------------------------------ the blind fiddler's dog. the blind man's dog commences in doggerel verse:-- "it really is amusing to hear how some dogs brag, and walk about and swagger, with tails and ears a-wag,-- how they boast about their prizes and the shows they have been at, and their coats so crisp and curly, or bodies sleek and fat, crying, there's no mistake about it, for judges all agree, we're the champion dogs of england, by points and pedigree." heigho! i wonder what i am, then. let me consider, i am a poor blind fiddler's dog, to begin with; but of course that is only a trade. i asked "bit-o'-fun" the other day what breed i was. bit-o'-fun, i should tell you, is a champion greyhound, and not at all an unkind dog, only just a little haughty and proud, as becomes her exalted station in life. she was talking about the large number of prizes she had won for her master at the various shows she had been at. "what breed do you think i am?" i asked her. bit-o'-fun laughed. "well, little fiddler," she replied, looking down at me with one eye, "i should say you were what we gentry call a mongrel." "is that something very nice?" i inquired. "do i come of a high family, now?" bit-o'-fun laughed now till the tears came into her eyes. "family!" she cried. "yes, fiddler, you have a deal of family in your blood--all families, in fact. you are partly skye and partly bulldog, and partly collie and partly pug." "oh, stop!" i cried; "you will make me too proud." but bit-o'-fun went on-- "your head, fiddler, is decidedly scotch; your legs are irish--awfully irish; you are tulip-eared, ring-tailed, and your feather--" "my feather!" i cried, looking round at my back. "you never mean to say i have got feathers." "your hair, then, goosie; feather is the technical term. your feather is flat, decidedly flat. and, in fact, you're a most wonderful specimen altogether. that's your breed." i never felt so proud in all my life before. "and you're a great beauty, bit-o'-fun," i said; "but aren't your legs rather long for your body?" "oh, no!" replied bit-o'-fun; "there isn't a morsel too much daylight under me." "and wouldn't you like to have a nice long coat like mine?" "well, no," said bit-o'-fun--"that is, yes, you know; but it wouldn't suit so well in running, you see. look at my head, how it is formed to cleave the wind. look at my tail, again; that is what i steer with." "oh! you're perfection itself, i know," said i. "pray how many prizes have you taken?" "well," answered the greyhound, "i've had over fifty pound-pieces of beef-steak and from twenty to thirty half-pound." "do they give you beef-steak for prizes, then?" i asked. "oh dear no," replied she; "but it's like this: whenever i take a first prize my master gives me a one-pound piece of steak; if it's only a second prize i only get half a pound, and i always get a kiss besides." "but supposing," i asked, "you took no prize?" "a thing which never happened," said bit-o'-fun, rather proudly. "but supposing?" i insisted. "oh, well," she answered, "instead of being kissed and _steaked_, i should be kicked and _spratt-caked_, or sent to bed without my supper." "and do you enjoy yourself at a show?" said i. "well, yes," said the greyhound; "all doggies don't, though, but i do. and master gives me such jolly food beforehand, and grooms me every morning, and washes me--but that isn't nice, makes one shiver so--and then i have always such a nice bed to lie upon. then i'm sent to the show town in a beautiful box, and men meet me at the station with a carriage. these men are sometimes very rough though, and talk angrily, and carry big whips, and smell horribly of bad beer and, worse, tobacco. one struck me once over the head. now, if i had been doing anything i wouldn't have minded; but i wasn't: only i served him out." "what did you do?" said i. "why, just waited till i got a chance, then bit him through the leg. my master just came up at the same moment, or it might have been a dear bite to me." "and what is a dog-show like?" i asked. "oh!" said bit-o'-fun, "when you enter the show-hall, there you see hundreds and hundreds of doggies all chained up on benches. and the noise they make, those that are new to it, is something awful. at first i used to suffer dreadfully with headaches, but i'm used to it now. but it is great fun to see and converse with so many pretty and intelligent dogs, i can tell you. it is this conversation that makes all the row, for perhaps you want to talk with a doggie quite at the other end of the hall, and so you have to roar until you are hoarse. what do we speak about? well, about our masters, and our points, and our food and exploits, and we abuse the judges, and wonder whether all the funny people we see have souls the same as we have, and so on. i have often thought what fun it would be if one of us were to break his chain some night, and let all the other doggies loose. oh, wouldn't we have a ball just! "well, we are taken out in batches to be judged, and are led round and round in a ring, while two or three ugly men, with hooks in their hands and ribbons in their buttonholes, shake their heads and examine us. that is the time i look my proudest. i cock my ears, straighten my tail, walk like a princess, and bow like a duchess, for i know that the eyes of all the world are on me, and, more than that, my master's eyes. and then when they hang the beautiful ticket around my neck, oh, ain't i glad just! but still i can't help feeling for the poor doggies who don't get any prize, they look so woe-begone and downhearted. "but managers might do lots to make us more comfortable, by feeding us more regularly, and giving us better food and more water. oh, i've often had my tongue hanging out, and feeling like a bit of sand-paper for want of a draught of pure water at a country show. and i've been at shows where they never gave us food, and no shelter from the scorching sun or the thunder-shower. again, they ought to lead us all out occasionally, if only for five minutes, just to stretch our poor cramped legs. but they don't, and it is very cruel. sometimes, too, the people tease us. i don't mind a pretty child patting me on the head, nor i don't object to a sweet young lady bending over me and letting her long silky curls fall over my shoulder; but there are gawky young men, who come round and prod us with their sticks; and silly old ladies, who prick us with their parasols, and say, `get up, sir, and show yourself.' you've heard of my friend `tell,' the champion saint bernard, i dare say. no? oh, i forgot; of course you wouldn't. but, at any rate, one day a fat, podgy lady, vulgarly bedecked in satin and gold, goes up to tell and points her splendid white parasol right at his chest. `get up,' says she, `and show yourself.' now tell hasn't the best of tempers at any time. so he did get up, and quickly, too, and showed his teeth and bit; and if his chain hadn't been as short as his temper it would have been a sad thing for mrs podgy. as it was, he collared the parasol, and proceeded at once to turn it into toothpicks and rags, and what is more, too, he kept the pieces. so you see the life even of a show-dog has its drawbacks." "how exceedingly interesting!" said i; "wouldn't i like to be a champion! do you think now, bit-o'-fun, i would have any chance?" "well, you see," said bit-o'-fun, smiling in her pleasant way, "there isn't a class at present for castle hill collies." "what?" said i. "i thought you said a while ago i was a high-bred mongrel?" "yes, yes," said bit-o'-fun; "mongrel, or castle hill collie; it's all the same, you know." "you're very learned, bit-o'-fun," i continued. "now tell me this, what do they mean by judging by points?" "well, you see," replied bit-o'-fun, with a comical twinkle in her eye, "the judge goes round, and he says, `we'll give this dog ten points for his head,' and sticks in ten pins; and so many for his tail, and sticks in so many pins in his tail, and his coat and legs, and so on, and does the same with the other dogs, and the dog who has most pins in him wins the prize. do you understand?" "yes," i replied; "you put it as plain as a book. but it is queer, and i wouldn't like the pins; i'm sure i should bite." "ha! ha! ha!" roared "bill," the butcher's bull-and-terrier. i knew it was he before i looked round, for he is a nasty vulgar thing, and sometimes he bites me. "ha! ha! ha!" he laughed again. "good-morning, bit-o'-fun. whatever have you been telling that little fool of a fiddler?" they always call me fiddler, after my dear master. "about the shows," said bit-o'-fun. "why, you never mean to tell me, fiddler, that you think of going to a show! ha! ha! ha!" "and suppose i did," i replied, a little riled, and i felt my hair beginning to stand up all along my back, "i dare say i would have as much chance as an ugly patch-eyed thing like you." "look here, fiddler," said bill, showing all his teeth--and he has an awful lot of them--"talk a little more respectfully when you address your betters. i've a very good mind to--" "to what, master bill?" said "don pedro," a beautiful large white-and-black newfoundland, coming suddenly on the ground. "no one is talking to you, don," said bill. "but _i'm_ talking to you, bill," said don pedro; "and if i hear you say you'll dare to touch poor little fiddler, i'll carry you off and drown you in the nearest pond, that's all." bill ran off with his tail between his feet before don pedro had done speaking. now isn't don pedro a dear, good fellow? "well, i'm not a champion dog, you see, though i modestly advance; i _might_ have taken a prize or two if i'd ever had a chance; but shows, i fear, were never meant for the like of poor me,-- besides, my master isn't rich, and couldn't pay the fee; yet i love my master none the less, and serve him faithfully. "poor master's got no eyes, you know, and i lead him through the street; and he plays upon the fiddle, and oh! he plays so sweet. that i wonder and i ponder, while my eyes with salt tears glisten. how so many people pass him by, and never stop to listen: how that nasty big blue man, with his nasty big blue coat. moves master on so roughly that i long to bite his throat! "there are certain quiet side-streets where master oft i take, where he's sure to get a penny, and i a bit of cake; but at times the nights are rainy, and seem so very long, that i envy pets in carriages, though i know that that is wrong; and master's growing very old, and his blood is getting thin, and he often shivers with the cold before i lead him in. "poor master loves me very much, and i love master too; but if anything came over me, whatever _could_ he do? i think of things like these, you know, when in my bed at night, even in my dreams those nasty thoughts oft make me cry with fright! yet, though my lot seems very hard, and my pleasures are but few i do not grieve, for well i know a dog's life soon wears through; and i've been told by some there are better worlds than this, that, even for little doggies, there's a future state of bliss: that faithfulness and love are things that cannot die, and sorrow _here_ means joy _there_-- in the realms beyond the sky." chapter twenty four. mr and mrs polypus: a story founded on a fact in natural history. "our plenteous streams a varied race supply." pope. "creatures that by a rule of nature teach the art of order to a peopled kingdom." shakespeare. scene: the old pine forest; a beautiful day in later summer. grey clouds flitting across the sky's bright blue, and occasionally obscuring the sun's rays. a gentle breeze going whispering through the woods, the giant elms, the lordly oaks, and the dark and gloomy firs bending and bowing as the wind passes among their branches. patches of bright crimson here and there where the foxgloves still bloom; patches of purple and yellow where heather and furze are growing. not a sound to be heard in all the wood, except the clear, joyous notes of the robin; all his young ones are safely hatched and fledged, and flown away, and he is singing a hymn of thanksgiving. aileen aroon lying as usual with her great head on my lap, theodore nero as usual tumbling on the grass, ida close at my side peeping over my shoulder at the paper i am reading aloud to her. ida (_speaks_): "what mites of people your hero and heroine are!" the author: "yes, puss; didn't you order me to write you a tale with tiny, tiny, tiny people in it? well, here they are. they are microscopic." ida: "but of course it is not a true story; it is composed, as you call it." the author: "it is a romance, ida; but it is a romance of natural history, because, you know, there _are_ creatures called polyps that live in the sea, and are so small you have to get a microscope to watch their motions, and they often eat each other, or swallow each other alive, and do all sorts of strange things; and so i call my story-- ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "mr and mrs polypus: a tale of the coralline sea, a tale of the indian ocean, a romance of the coralline sea. "far down beneath the blue waves lived my hero and heroine all alone together in their crystal home, with its floors of coral and its windows of diamonds. the cottage in which they dwelt was of a very strange shape indeed, being nothing like any building ever you saw on the face of the earth--but it suited them well--and all around it was a beautiful garden of living plants. well, all plants possess life; but these were, in reality, living animals, living beings, shaped like flowers, but as capable of eating and drinking as you or i am, only they were all on stalks, and could only catch their food as it floated past them. this seems somewhat awkward, but then they were used to it, and custom is everything. i don't believe these animals growing on stalks ever wished to walk any oftener than human beings wished to fly. "mr and mrs polypus, as you may easily guess, were husband and wife, but for all that i am very sorry to have to tell you that they did not always live very peaceably together. they used to have little disagreements now and then; for they were only polyps, you must remember, and smaller far than water-babies. their little quarrels were always about their food, for, if the truth must be told, mr polypus was somewhat of a tyrant to his tiny wife. "mr polypus had many faults; he was, among other things, a very great glutton; so much so, that he did not mind his wife starving so long as he himself had enough to eat. "now a word or two about the personal appearance of my principal characters. they were indeed a funny-looking couple, and so small, that unless you had had good eyes, and a tolerably good microscope as well, it would have been impossible for you to see much of what they were doing at all. they were both the same shape, and had only one leg a-piece--a comparatively thick one though--so that when they walked about it was hop, hop, hop on one end, and very ridiculous it looked. but then, if they had only one leg each, nature had made it up to them in the matter of arms; for instead of two only, as you have, they had a whole row of them all round their shoulders. wonderfully movable arms they were too, and seemed all joints together, and neither he nor his wife could keep from whirling their arms about whenever they were excited. they had, in fact, so many arms that they could afford to place two pair akimbo, fold one or two pairs across the chest, and still have a few left to shake in each other's faces when scolding; not that she did much of that, for she was very mild and obedient. "the only food that mr and mrs polypus got was little fishes, which came floating in through the window to them, or down the chimney, or in by the door; so that they never required to go to the market to buy any provisions; they only had to wait comfortably at their own fireside until breakfast or dinner swam in to them of its own accord. but this did not satisfy the craving appetite of mr polypus; so he used often to be from home, swimming up and down the streets, or hopping about at the bottom of the village of coral town, where fish did most abound; and it was only when he was away from home on a fishing expedition that poor pretty mrs polypus used to get anything to eat, for she was a quiet little woman, and always stopped at home. poor thing, the neighbours were often very sorry for her; for hers had been a very sad story. for all she was so quiet now, she was once the gayest of the gay, the life and soul of the village of coral town. at every ball or party that was given, peggy--for so she was then called--was the star; and whenever peggy countenanced a picnic or an angling match, all the village went too and took his wife with him. "when peggy was still in her teens she fell in love with gay, rollicking young mr pompey, the potassium merchant. you know it was all potassium that they burned in coral town, because that burns under water, and coals won't; and instead of the streets and houses being lighted with gas or oil at nights, they were illuminated with phosphorus. for the next six months after pompey met pretty peggy at a ball, their young lives were but as one happy dream; for pompey loved peggy dearly, and peggy loved pompey. away down at the bottom of coral town was a beautiful submarine garden, with fresh-water shrubs of every shade and flowers of every hue, and there were lonely caves and grottoes and groves, and all kinds of lovely scenery imaginable; and here the lovers often met, and along the winding pathways they ofttimes hopped together. 'twas here pompey first declared his passion, and first beheld the love-light in his peggy's beaming eyes. one evening they were seated side by side in a coral cave. everything around them was peaceful and still, the water clear and pellucid, and unbroken by a single ripple. they had sat thus for hours; for the time had flown very quickly, and pompey had been reading a delightful book to peggy, until it got so dark he couldn't see. far up above them were the phosphorescent lights in the village twinkling like stars in heaven's firmament. the cave in which they sat was lighted up by a large diamond, which sparkled in the roof, and diffused a soft rose light all around, while here and there on the floor lay strange-shaped musical shells, which ever and anon gave forth sounds like aeolian harps. "`ah!' sighed pompey, and-- "`ah!' sighed peggy, and-- "`when shall we wed?' said pompey, and-- "`whenever you please,' said she. "`oh! oh!' cried a terrible voice at their elbows, `there'll be two words to that bargain. he! he! there's many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip. ha! ha!' "and behold! there in the mouth of the cave stood an ugly old male polyp grinning and bobbing at them like some dreadful ogre. "`how dare you, sir!' said potassium pompey, springing from his seat, and striding with a couple of hops towards the new-comer--`how dare you intrude yourself on the privacy of affianced lovers?' "`intrude? ho! ho! privacy? he! he! affianced? ha! ha!' replied the old polyp. `i'll soon let you know that, young jackanapes.' "`sir,' cried pompey, `this insolence shall not go unpunished. unhand me, peggy.' "`oh! hush, hush, pray hush,' cried poor peggy, wringing a few of her hands; `it's my father, pompey, my poor father.' "`that fright your father?' replied pompey; `but there, for your sake, my peggy, and for the sake of his grey hairs, i will spare him.' "`come along, miss malapert; adieu, mr jackanapes,' cried the enraged father; and he dragged his daughter from the cave, but not before she had time to cast one tearful look of fond farewell on her lover, not before she had time to extend ten hands to him behind her back, and he had fondly pressed them all. "peggy's father was a miserly old polyp, who lived in a superb residence in the most fashionable part of coral town. he had servants who went or came at his beck or call, a splendid chariot of pure gold to ride in, with pure-bred fish-horses, and the only thing he ever had to annoy him was that when he awoke in the morning he could not think of any new pleasure for the day that had dawned. every day he had a lovely little polyp boy killed for his dinner--for polyps are all cannibals--and if that meal didn't please him, then he used to eat one of the flunkeys. but for all his riches, he was not a gentleman. he had made all his money as a marine store dealer, and then retired to live at his mansion, with his only daughter peggy. "now, for the next many days poor potassium pompey was a very unhappy polyp indeed. he went about his business very listlessly, neglected to eat, grew awfully thin, and let his beard grow, and people even said that he sometimes sold them bad potassium. as for peggy, she was locked up in a room all by herself, and never saw any one at all, except her father, who five times a day came regularly to feed her, and when she refused to eat he cruelly crammed it down her throat. he was only a polyp, remember. "`i'll fatten the gipsy,' he said to himself, `and then marry _her_ to my old friend peterie. he can support a wife, for i always see him fishing, and he can't possibly eat all he catches himself.' "so it was all arranged that the wedding should come off, and one day, as pompey was returning disconsolately from his office, he met a great and noisy crowd, who were huzzaing and waving their arms in the water, and shouting, `long live the happy, happy pair!' and presently up drove the old miser's chariot, with six fish-horses, and polyp postillions to match; and seated there beside his detested rival, pompey caught a glimpse of his loved and lost darling peggy; thereupon pompey made up his mind to drown himself right off. so he went and sought out the blackest, deepest pool, and plunged in. but polyps are so used to the water that they cannot drown, and so the more pompey tried to drown himself, the more the water wouldn't drown him; so at last he wiped his eyes, and-- "`what a fool i am,' said he, `to attempt death for the sake of one fair lady, when there are hundreds of polyps as beautiful as she in coral town. i'll go home and work, and make riches, then i'll marry ten wives, and hold them all in my arms at once.' "but pompey couldn't forget his early love as quickly as he wished to, and often of an evening, when he knew that mr polypus was away at some of his gluttonous carousals, pompey would steal to the window of her house and keek in through the chinks of the shutters, and sigh to see his beloved peggy sitting all so lonely by herself at the little table, on which the phosphorus lamp was burning. and at the same time-- although pompey did not know it--peggy would be gazing so sadly into the potassium fire, and thinking of him; she really could not help it, although she knew it was wrong, and poor pretty mrs polypus couldn't be expected to be very cheery, could she? "well, one night she was sitting all alone like that, wondering what was keeping her husband so long, and if he would beat her, as usual, when he did come home. she hadn't had a bit to eat for many, many hours, and was just beginning to feel hungry and faint, when a tiny wee fish swam in by the chimney, and pop! mrs polypus had it down her throat in a twinkling; but as ill-luck would have it, who should return at the very moment but her wicked husband. he had evidently been eating even more than usual, and looked both flushed and angry. "`_now_, mrs polypus,' he began, `i saw that. how dared you, when you knew i was coming home to supper, and there wasn't a morsel in the larder?' "`oh! please, peterie,' said poor little mrs polypus, beginning to cry, `i really didn't mean to; but i was _so_ hungry, and--' "`hungry?' roared the husband; `how dared you to be hungry?--how dared you be anything at all, in fact? but there, i shall not irritate myself by talking to you. bring it back again.' "`oh! if you please, peterie--' cried mrs polypus. "`bring it back again, i say,' cried mr polypus, making all his arms swing round and round like a wheel, till you could hardly have seen one of them, and finally crossing them on his chest; and, leaning on the back of the chair, he looked sternly down on his spouse, and said--`disgorge at once!' "`i won't, then, and, what is more, i shan't; there!' said the wee woman, for even a woman as well as a worm will turn when very much trodden upon. "`good gracious me!' cried mr polypus, fairly aghast with astonishment; `does--she--actually--dare--to--defy me?' but `ho! ho!' he added, likewise `he! he!' and `we'll see;' and he strode to the window and bolted it, and strode to the door and bolted that; then he took the phosphorus lamp and extinguished it. "`it'll be so dark, peterie,' said his wife, beginning to be frightened. "`there is light enough for what i have to do,' said peterie, sternly. then he opened a great yawning mouth, and he seized her first by one arm, and then by another, until he had the whole within his grasp, and she all the time kicking with her one leg, and screaming-- "`oh! please don't, peterie. oh! peterie, don't.' "but he heeded not her cries, which every moment became weaker and more far-away like, until they ceased entirely, and the unhappy mrs polypus was nowhere to be seen. _her husband had swallowed her alive_! "as soon as he had done so he sat down by the fire, looking rather swollen, and feeling big and not altogether comfortable; but how could he expect to be, after swallowing his wife? he leaned his head on three arms and gazed pensively into the fire. "`after all,' he said to himself, `i may have been just a little too hasty, for she wasn't at all a bad little woman, taking her all-in-all. heigho! i fear i'll never see her like again.' "hark! a loud knocking at the door. he starts and listens, and trembles like the guilty thing he is. the knocking was repeated in one continuous stream of rat-tats. "`hullo! peterie,' cried a voice; `open the door.' "`who is there?' asked peterie at last. "`why, man, it is i--potassium pompey. whatever is up with you to-day that you are barred and bolted like this? afraid of thieves? eh?' "`no,' said peterie, undoing the fastenings and letting pompey come in; `it isn't that exactly. the fact is, i wasn't feeling very well, and just thought i would lie down for a little while.' "`you don't look very ill, anyhow,' said pompey; `and you are actually getting stouter, i think!' "`well,' replied peterie, `you see, i've been out fishing, and had a good dinner, and perhaps i've eaten rather more, i believe, than is good for me.' "`shouldn't wonder,' said pompey, sarcastically; for the truth is, he had been keeking through the chinks of the shutters, and had seen the whole tragedy. "`a decided case of dropsy, i should think,' added pompey. "peterie groaned. "`take a seat,' he said to pompey. `i believe you are my friend, and i want to have a little talk with you; i--i want to make a clean breast of it.' "`well, i'm all attention,' replied pompey--`all ears, as the donkey said.' "`fact is, then,' continued peterie, `i've been a rather unhappy man of late, and my wife and i never understood one another, and never agreed. she was in love with some scoundrel, you know, before we were married-- leastways, so they tell me--and i--i'm really afraid i've swallowed her, pompey.' "`hum!' said pompey; `and does she agree any better with you now?' "`no,' replied peterie, `that's just the thing; she's living all the wrong way, somehow, and i fear she won't digest.' "`wretch!' cried peterie, starting to his feet, `behold me. gaze upon this wasted form: i am he who loved poor peggy before her fatal marriage. oh! my peggy, my loved, my lost, my half-digested peggy, shall we never meet again?' "`sooner,' cried peterie, `perhaps than you are aware of. so it was you who loved my silly wife?' "`it was i.' "`wretch, you shall die.' "`never,' roared pompey, `while i live.' "`we shall see,' said peterie. "`come on,' said pompey, `set the table on one side and give us room.' "that was a fearful fight that battle of the polyps. it is awful enough to see two men fighting who have only two arms a side, but when it comes to twenty arms each, and all these arms are whirling round at once, like a select assortment of windmills that have run mad, then, i can tell you, it is very much more dreadful. now peterie has the advantage. "now pompey is down. "now he is up again and peterie falls. "now peterie half swallows pompey. "now pompey appears again as large as life, and half swallows peterie; but at last, by one unlucky blow administered by ten fists at once, down rolls potassium pompey lifeless on peterie's floor. peterie bent over the body of pompey. "`bad job,' he mutters, `he is dead. and the question comes to be, what shall i do with the body? ha! happy thought! the struggle has given me an appetite, _i'll swallow him too_.' "barely had he thus disposed of poor pompey's body, when a renewed knocking was heard at the outside door. there was not a moment to lose; so peterie hastily set the furniture in order, and bustled away to open the door, and hardly had he done so when in rushed an excited mob of polyps headed by two warlike policemen, who _headed_ them by keeping well in the rear, but being, after the manner of policemen, very loud in their talk. "`where is potassium pompey?' cried one; and-- "`ay! where is potassium pompey?' cried another; and-- "`to be sure, where is potassium pompey?' cried a third; and-- "`that is the question, young man,' cried both policemen at once. "`where is potassium pompey?' "`oh!' groaned peterie, `would i were as big as a bullfrog, that i might swallow you all at a gulp.' "`away with him, my friends,' cried the warlike policemen, `to the hall of justice.' "in the present state of peterie's digestive organs, resistance was not to be thought of; so he quietly submitted to be led out with ten pairs of handcuffs on his wrists, and dragged along the street, followed by the hooting mob, who wanted to hang him on the spot; but a multitude of policemen now arrived, and being at the rate of three policemen to each civilian polyp, the hanging was prevented. the justice hall was a very large building right in the centre of coral town. there the judges used to sit night and day on a large pearl throne at one end to try the cases that were brought before them. "now potassium pompey was a very great favourite in coral town, so that when the wretched peterie was dragged by fifteen brave policemen before the pearl throne, the hall was quite filled, and you might have heard a midge sneeze, if there had been a midge to sneeze, so great was the silence. the first accuser was popkins, the miserly old polyp who was poor peggy's father. he was too wretchedly thin and weak and old to hop in like any other polyp, so he came along the hall walking on his one foot and his twenty hands after the fashion of the looper caterpillar, which i daresay you have observed on a currant-bush. "`where is me chee--ild?' cried the aged miser, as soon as he could speak. `give me back me chee--ild?' "`if that's all you've got to say,' said the judge, sternly, `you'd better stand down.' "`i merely want me chee--ild,' repeated popkins. "`stand down, sir,' cried the judge. "after hearing various witnesses who had seen pompey enter peterie's house and never return, the judge opened his mouth and spake, for peterie had said never a word. the judge gave it as his unbiassed opinion that, considering all things, the mysterious disappearance of mrs polypus, coupled with that of potassium pompey, whom every one loved and admired, the absence of all defence on the part of the prisoner, and the extraordinary rotundity of his corporation, as well as the fact that he had always been a spare man, there could be little doubt of the prisoner's guilt; `but to make assurance doubly sure,' added the judge, `let him at once be opened, to furnish additional proof, and the opening of the prisoner, i trust, will close the case.' if guilty, the sentence of the court was that he should then be dragged to the common execution ground, and there divided into one hundred pieces, and he, the judge, hoped it would be a warning to the prisoner in all future time." [when a polyp is cut into pieces, each piece becomes a new individual.] "twenty policemen now rushed away and brought the biggest knife they could find; twenty more went for ropes, and having procured them, the wretched mr polypus was bound to a table, and before he could have said `cheese,' if he had wanted to say `cheese,' an immense opening was made in his side, and, lo and behold! out stepped first potassium pompey, and after him hopped, modestly hopped, poor peggy. but the most wonderful part of the whole business was, that neither peggy nor pompey seemed a bit the worse for their strange incarceration. indeed, i ought to say they looked all the better; for pompey was all smiles, and peggy was looking very happy indeed, and even peterie seemed immensely relieved. pompey led peggy before the throne, and here he told all the story about how peggy was murdered, and then how he, pompey, was murdered next. and-- "`enough! enough!' cried the judge; `away with the doomed wretch! let the execution be proceeded with without a moment's delay.' "`please, my lord,' said peggy, modestly, `may i have a divorce?' "`to be sure, to be sure,' said the judge; `you are justly entitled to a divorce.' "`and please, my lord,' continued peggy, `may--may--' "`well? well?' said the judge, with slight impatience, `out with it.' "`she wants to ask if she may marry me,' said pompey, boldly. "`most assuredly,' said the judge, `and a blessing be on you both.' "in vain the unhappy peterie begged and prayed for mercy; he was hurried away to the execution ground and led to the scaffold. in all that crowd of upturned faces, peterie saw not one pitying eye. and now a large barrel was placed to receive the pieces, and, beginning with his head and arms, the executioners cut him into one hundred pieces, leaving nothing of peterie but the foot. "`now,' cried the judge, `empty the barrel on the floor.' "this was done. "and it did seem that wonders would never cease, for as soon as each piece was thrown on the floor it immediately _grew up into a real live polyp, and body and arms all complete and hopping_; and the foot, which had been left, and which was more especially peterie's--being all that remained of him, you know--grew up into another polyp, and behold there was another and a new peterie. he was at once surrounded by the ninety and nine new polyps, who all threw their arms--nineteen hundred and ninety arms--around his neck, and began to kiss him and call him dearest dada. "`on my honour,' said peterie, `i think this is rather too much of a joke.' "but nobody had any pity on him, and the judge said--`now, mr polypus, let this be a lesson to you. go home at once and work for your children, and remember you support them; if even one of them comes to solicit parish relief, dread the consequences.' "`how ever shall i manage?' said poor peterie. "and he hopped away disconsolate enough amid his ninety and nine baby polyps all crying-- "`dada dear, give us a fish.' "`i think,' said the judge, when peterie had gone--`i think, mr popkins, you cannot now do better than consent to make these two young things happy by letting them wed. pompey, it is true, isn't a king, but he has an excellent business in the potassium line, and none of us can live without fire, you know.' "`but i'm a king,' cried the aged miser; `i have mines of wealth, and all i have is theirs. come to your father's arms, my peggy and pompey.' "`hurrah!' shouted the mob; `three cheers for the old miser, and three for pompey the brave, and three times three for the bonny bride peggy.' "and away rolled peggy in the golden chariot, with her father--such a happy, happy peggy now; and pompey was carried through the streets, shoulder high, to his old home. "so nothing was talked about in coral town for the next month but the grandeur of the coming wedding, and the beauty of peggy, and everybody was happy and gay except poor peterie; for who could be happy with ninety-nine babies to provide for--ninety-nine breakfasts to get, ninety-nine dinners, ninety-nine teas and suppers all in one, two hundred and ninety-seven meals to provide in one day? "there were no more fishing excursions for him, no more big dinners, and he worked and toiled to get ends to meet deep down in a potassium mine in the darkest, dismalest corner of coral town. and everybody said-- "`it serves him right, the cruel wretch.' "what a wonderful house that was which pompey built for his peggy! "it was charmingly situated on the slope of a wooded hill, quite in the country. pompey spent months in furnishing and decorating it, and his greatest pleasure was to superintend all the work himself. such trees you never saw as grew in the gardens and park, marine trees whose very leaves seemed more lovely than any terrestrial flower, and they were incessantly moving their branches backwards and forwards with a gentle undulating motion, as if they luxuriated in the sight of each other's beauty. such flowers!--living, breathing flowers they were, and radiant with rainbow tints, flowers that whispered together, and beckoned and bowed and made love to each other. then those delightful rockeries, half hidden here and there amid the wealth of foliage, and there were curious shells of brilliant colours that made music whenever there was the slightest ripple in the water, and whole colonies of the quaintest little animals that ever you dreamt of crept in and crept out of every fissure or miniature cave in the rocks. "at night the garden was all lighted up with phosphorescent lamps; but inside the palace itself, in the spacious halls, along the marble staircases, and in the beautiful rooms, nothing short of diamond lights would satisfy pompey; for you must know that pompey thought nothing too good for peggy. so each room was lighted up by a diamond, that shone in the centre of the vaulted roof like a large and beautiful star. some of these diamonds suffused a rosy light throughout the apartment, the light from others was of a paley green, and from others a faint saffron, while in one room the light from the diamond was for ever changing as you may see the planet mars doing, if you choose to watch--one moment it was a bright, clear, bluish white, next a rainbow green, and anon changing to deepest crimson. this was a very favourite dining-hall with pompey, for the simple reason that no one could be sure how his neighbour looked. for instance, if a lady blushed, it did not look like a blush--oh dear no--but a flash of rosy light; if an old gentleman indulged rather much in the pleasures of the table, and began to feel ill in consequence, not a bit of it, he was never better in his life--it was the bluish flash from the diamond; and so, again, if last night's lobster salad rendered any one yellow and bilious-looking, he could always blame the poor pretty diamond. "in some rooms the chairs themselves were made of precious stones, and the ottomans and couches built of a single pearl. "at length everything was completed to pompey's entire satisfaction, and he had given any number of gay parties and balls, just by way of warming the house. pompey flattered himself he had the best provisions in his cellars and the best-trained servants in all coral town, and of course nobody cared to deny that. these servants were nearly all of different shapes: some were properly-made polyps; some rolled in when pompey touched the gong, rolled in like a gig-wheel without the rim, all legs and arms, and the body in the centre; some were merely round balls, and you couldn't see any head or legs or arms at all till they stopped in front of you, then they popped them all out at once; some walked in, others hopped, one or two floated, and one queer old chap walked on the crown of his head. if you think this is not all strictly true, you have only to take a microscope and look for yourself. "`heigho!' said pompey one day, after he had finished a dinner fit to set before a polyp king, `all i now want to make me perfectly happy is peggy. peggy--peggy! what a sweetly pretty name it is to be sure! peggy!' "and that came too; for if you wait long enough for any particular day, it is sure to come at last, just as whistling at sea makes the wind blow, which it invariably does--when you whistle long enough. "and never was such a day of rejoicing seen in coral town. the bells were ringing and the banners all waving almost before the phosphorescent lamps began to pale in the presence of day. "then everybody turned out. "and everybody seemed to take leave of his senses by special arrangement. "all but poor peterie, who was left all by himself to work away in the deep, dark potassium mine. the wedding took place in peggy's father's-- popkins's--house. the old miser, miser no more though, was half crazy with joy. and nothing would satisfy him but to have one of the upper servants cooked for his breakfast. he didn't care, he said, whether it was jeames or the butler. so the butcher dressed the butler, and he was stewed for his master's breakfast with sauce of pearls powdered in ambrosia. "and after the ceremony was performed, pompey appeared on the balcony, clasping peggy to his heart with ten arms, while he gave ten other hands to popkins, his father-in-law, to shake as he cried-- "`bless you, bless you, my children.' "then such a ringing cheer was heard, as never was heard before, or any time since. even peterie heard it down in the darkling mine, swallowed a ball of potassium, and died on the spot. as soon as peterie was dead, he (peterie) said, `well now, i wonder i never thought of that before;' because he at once grew up again into ten new polyps, who forthwith left the mine, joined the revellers, and shouted louder than all the rest. "and when at last peggy was in peterie's house, when the idol of his love became the light of his home, when he saw her there before him, so blooming and bonnie, he opened his twenty arms, and she opened _her_ twenty arms, and-- "`peggy!' cried pompey; and-- "`pompey!' cried peggy; and-- "down drops the curtain. it would be positively mean and improper to keep it up one moment longer." chapter twenty five. the tale of the "twin chestnuts"; or, a summer evening's reverie. "twilight grey had in her sober livery all things clad: silence accompanied; for beast and bird, they to their grassy couch; these to their nests were slunk, all save the wakeful nightingale: hesperus that led the starry host rode brightest, till the moon unveiled her peerless light, and o'er the dark her silver mantle threw." milton. running all along one side of our orchard, garden, and lawn are a row of tall and graceful poplar trees. so tall are they that they may be seen many miles away; they are quite a feature of the landscape, and tell the position of our village to those coming towards it long before a single house is visible. these trees are the admiration of all that behold them, but, to my eye, there seems always connected with them an air of solemnity. all the other trees about--the spreading limes, the broad-leaved planes, and the rugged oaks and elms--seem dwarfed by their presence, so high do they tower above them. their tips appear to touch the very sky itself, their topmost branches pierce the clouds. around the stem of each the beautiful ivy climbs and clings for support; and this ivy gives shelter by night to hundreds of birds, and to bats too, for aught i know. their very position standing there in a row, like giant sentinels, surrounds them with an air of mystery to which the fact that they follow each other's motions--all bending and nodding in the same direction at once--only tends to add. and spring, summer, autumn, or winter they are ever pointing skywards. in the winter months they are leafless and bare, and there is a wild, weird look about them on a still night, when the moon and stars are shining, which it would be difficult to describe in words. but sometimes in winter, when the hoar-frost falls and silvers every twiglet and branch till they resemble nothing so much as the snowiest of coral, then, indeed, the beauty with which they are adorned, once seen must ever be remembered. but hardly has spring really come, and long before the cuckoo's dual notes are heard in the glade, or the nightingale's street, unearthly music fills every copse and orchard, making the hearts of all that hear it glad, ere those stately poplars are clothed from tip to stem in robes of yellow green, and their myriad leaves dance and quiver in the sunlight, when there is hardly wind enough to bend a blade of grass. as the summer wears on, those leaves assume a darker tint, and approach more nearly to the colour of the ivy that crowds and climbs around their stems. the wind is then more easily heard, sighing and whispering through the branches even when there is not a breath of air down on the lawn or in the orchard. on what we might well call still evenings, if you cast your eye away aloft, you may see those tree-tops all swaying and moving in rhythm against the sky; and if you listen you may catch the sound of their leaves like that of wavelets breaking on a beach of smoothest sand. i remember it was one still summer's night, long after sundown, for the gloaming star was shining, that we were all together on the rose lawn. the noisy sparrows were quiet, every bird had ceased to sing, there wasn't a sound to be heard anywhere save the sighing among the topmost branches of the poplars. far up there, a breeze seemed to be blowing gently from the west, and as it kissed the tree-tops they bent and bowed before it. ida lay in a hammock of grass, the book she could no longer see to read lying on her lap in a listless hand. "no matter how still it is down here," she said, "those trees up there are always whispering." "what do you think they are saying?" i asked. "oh," she answered, "i would give worlds to know." "perhaps," she added, after a pause, "they hear voices up in the sky there that we cannot hear, that they catch sounds of--" "stop, ida, stop," i cried; "why, if you go on like this, instead of the wise, sensible, old-fashioned little girl that i'm so fond of having as my companion in my rambles, you will degenerate into a poet." "ha! ha!" laughed frank; "well, that is a funny expression to be sure. degenerate into a poet. how complimentary to the sons and daughters of the lyre, how complimentary to your own bonnie bobby burns, for instance!" ida half raised herself in her hammock. she was smiling as she spoke. "it was you, uncle, that taught me," she said. "did you not tell me everything that grows around us has life, and even feeling; that in winter the great trees go to sleep, and do not suffer from the cold, but that in summer they are filled with a glow of warmth, and that if you lop a branch off one, though it does not feel pain, it experiences cold at the place where the axe has done its work? haven't you taught me to look upon the flowers as living things? and don't i feel them to be so when i stoop to kiss the roses? yes, and i love them too; i love them all--all." "and i've no doubt the love is reciprocated, my little mouse. but now, talking about trees, if frank will bring the lamp, i'll read you a kind of a story about two trees. it isn't quite a tale either--it is a kind of reverie; but the descriptive parts of it are painted from the life. thank you, frank. now if the moths will only keep away for a minute, if it wasn't for that bit of displayed humanity on the top of the glass in the shape of a morsel of wire gauze, that big white moth would go pop in and immolate himself. ahem!" ------------------------------------------------------------------------ the twin chestnuts: a reverie. "they grew in beauty side by side." we weren't the only happy couple that had spent a honeymoon at twin chestnut cottage. in point of fact, the chestnuts themselves had their origin in a honeymoon; for in the same old-fashioned cottage, more than one hundred and ninety years ago, there came to reside a youthful pair, who, hand in hand, had just commenced life's journey together. they each had a little dog, and those two little dogs were probably as fond of each other, after their own fashion, as their master and mistress were; and the name of the one dog was "gip," and the name of the other was "george"--gip and george, there you have them. and it was very funny that whatever gip did, george immediately followed suit and did the same; and, _vice versa_, whatever george did, gip did. if gip harked, george barked; if george wagged his tail, so did gip. whenever gip was hungry, george found that he too could eat; and when george took a drink of water, gip always took a mouthful as well, whether she was thirsty or not. well, it happened one day in autumn, when the beauty-tints were on the trees--the sunset glow of the dying year--that the two lovers (for although they were married, they were lovers still) were walking on the rustling leaves, and of course george and gip were no great way behind, and were having their own conversation, and their own little larks all to themselves, when suddenly-- "i say, georgie," said gip. "well, my love?" replied george. "i'm quite tired watching for that silly blind old mole, who i'm certain won't come again to-night. let us carry a chestnut home." "all right," said george; "here goes." so they each of them chose the biggest horse-chestnut they could find, and they were only very small dogs, and went trotting home with them in their mouths; and when they got there, they each laid their little gifts at the feet of their loved master or mistress. this they did with such a solemn air that, for the life of them, the lovers could not help laughing outright. but the little dogs received their due meed of praise nevertheless, and the two chestnuts were carefully planted, one on each side of the large lawn window. and when winter gave place to spring, lo! the chestnuts budded, budded and peeped up through the earth, each one looking for all the world like a hindoo lady's little finger, which isn't a bit different, you know, from your little finger, only it is dark-brown, and yours is white. then the little finger opened, and bright green leaves unfolded and peeped up at the sun and the blue sky, and long before the summer was over they had grown up into sprightly little trees, as straight as rushes, and very nearly as tall, for they had been very carefully watered and tended. very pretty they looked too, although their leaves seemed a mile too big for their stems, which made them look like two very small men with very large hats; but the young chestnuts themselves didn't see anything ridiculous in the matter. these, then, were the infant chestnuts. and as the years rolled on, and made those lovers old, the chestnuts still grew in height and beauty. and in time poor grip died, and as george had always done exactly as gip did, he died too; and gip was laid at the foot of one tree, and george at the foot of the other, and their graves were watered with loving tears. and the trees grew lovelier still. and when at last those lovers died, the trees showered their flowers, pink-eyed and white, on the coffins, as they were borne away from the old cottage to their long, quiet home in the "moots." and time flew on, generation after generation was born, grew up, grew old, and died, and still the twin chestnuts increased and flourished, and they are flourishing now, on this sweet summer's day, and shading all the cottage from the noonday sun. it is a very old-fashioned cottage, wholly composed, one might almost say, of gables, the thatch of some of which comes almost to the ground, and i defy any one to tell which is the front of the cottage and which isn't the front. there are gardens about the old cottage, fruit gardens and flower gardens, and grey old walls half buried in ivy, which never looked half so pretty as in autumn, when the soft leaves of the virginia creepers are changing to crimson, and blending sweetly with the ivy's dusky green. the principal gable is that abutting on to the green velvety lawn, which goes sloping downwards to where the river, broad and still, glides silently on its way to bear on its breast the ships of the greatest city of the world, and carry them to the ocean. but the main beauty of the cottage lies in those twin chestnuts. no chestnuts in all the countryside like those two beautiful trees; none so tall, so wide, so spreading; none have such broad green leaves, none have such nuts--for each nutshell grows as big and spiny as a small hedgehog, and contains some one nut, many two, but most three nuts within the outer rind. i only wish you could see them, and you would say, as i do, there are no trees like those twin chestnuts. the earth was clad in its white cocoon when first we went to twin chestnut cottage, and the two giant trees pointed their skeleton fingers upwards to the murky sky; but long before any of the other chestnut-trees that grew in the parks and the avenues, had even dreamt of awakening from their deep winter sleep, the twin chestnuts had sent forth large brown buds, bigger and longer than rifle bullets, and all gummed over with some sticky substance, as if the fairies had painted them all with glycerine and treacle. with the first sunshine of april those bonnie buds grew thicker, and burst, disclosing little bundles of light-green foliage, that matched _so_ sweetly with the brown of the buds and the dark grey of the parent tree. day by day we watched the folded leaves expanding; and other eyes than ours were watching them too; for occasionally a large hornet or an early bee would fly round the trees and examine the buds, then off he would go again with a satisfied hum, which said plainly enough, "you're getting on beautifully, and you'll be all in flower in a fortnight." and, indeed, hardly had a fortnight elapsed, from the time the buds first opened, till the twin chestnuts were hung in robes of drooping green. such a tender green! such a light and lovely green! and the pendent, crumply leaves seemed as yet incapable of supporting their own weight, like the wings of the moth when it first bursts from its chrysalis. then, oh! to hear the _frou-frou_ of the gentle wind through the silken foliage! and every tree around was bare and brown save them. even the river seemed to whisper fondly to the bending reeds as it glided past those chestnuts twain; and i know that the mavis and the merle sung in a louder, gladder key when they awoke in the dewy dawn of morn, and their bright eyes rested on those two clouds of living green. and now crocuses peeping through the dun earth, and primroses on mossy banks, had long since told that spring had come; but the chestnut-trees said to all the birds that summer too was on the wing. cock-robin marked the change, and came no more for crumbs--for he thought it was high time to build his nest; only there were times when he seated himself on the old apple-tree, and sung his little song, just to show that he hadn't forgotten us, and that he meant to come again when family cares were ended and summer had flown away. meanwhile, the flower-stems grew brown and mossy, and in a week or two the flowers themselves were all in bloom. had you seen either of those twin chestnuts then, you would have seen a thing of beauty which would have dwelt in your mind as a joy for ever. it was summer now. life and love were everywhere. the bloom was on the may--pink-eyed may and white may. the yellow laburnum peeped out from the thickets of evergreen, the yellow broom dipped its tassels in the river, and elder-flowers perfumed the wind. i couldn't tell you half the beautiful creatures that visited the blossoms on the twin chestnut-trees, and sang about them, and floated around them, and sipped the honey from every calyx. great droning, velvety bees; white-striped and red busy little hive-bees; large-winged butterflies, gaudy in crimson and black; little white butterflies, with scarlet-tipped wings; little blue butterflies, that glanced in the sunshine like chips of polished steel; and big slow-floating butterflies, so intensely yellow that they looked for all the world as if they had been fed on cayenne, like the canaries, you know. in the gloaming, "drowsy beetles wheeled their droning flight" around the trees, and noisy cockchafers went whirring up among the blossoms, and imagined they had reached the stars. when the roses, purple, red, and yellow, clung around the cottage porch, climbed over the thatch, and clung around the chimneys, when the mauve wisterias clustered along the walls, when the honeysuckle scented the green lanes, when daisies and tulips had faded in the garden, and crimson poppies shone through the corn's green, a breeze blew soft and cool from the south-east, and lo! for days and days the twin chestnuts snowed their petals on the lawn and path. and now we listened every night for the nightingale's song. they came at last, all in one night it seemed: "whee, whee, whee." what are those slow and mournful notes ringing out from the grove in the stillness of night? a lament for brighter skies born of memories of glad italy? "churl, churl; chok, wee, cho!" this in a low and beautiful key; then higher and more joyful, "wheedle, wheedle, wheedle; wheety, wheety, wheety; chokee, okee, okee-whee!" answering each other all the livelong night, bursting into song at intervals all the day, when, we wondered, did they sleep? did they take it in turns to make night and day melodious, keeping watches like the sailors at sea? we thought the song of the mavis so tame now; but cock-robin's had not lost its charm, just as the dear old simple "lilts" of bonnie scotland, or the sadder ditties of the green isle, never pall on our ear, love we ever so well the lays of sunny italy. as the summer waned apace, and the leaves on the chestnuts changed to a darker, hardier green, the nightingales ceased their song; but, somehow, we never missed them much, there were so many other songsters. we used to wonder how many different sorts of birds found shelter in those twin chestnuts, apart from the bickering sparrows, who colonised it; apart from the merle and thrush, who merely came home to roost; apart from the starling, who was continually having quarrels with his wife about something or other; and apart from the noisy jackdaw, who was such an argumentative fellow, and made himself such a general nuisance that it always ended in his being forcibly ejected. robin was invariably the first to awake in the morning. as the first faint tinge of dawning day began to broaden in the east, he shook the dew from his wings, and gave vent to a little peevish twitter. then he would hop down from the tree, perch on the gate, and begin his sweet wee song: "twitter, twitter, twee!" we used to wonder if it really was a song of praise to him who maketh the sun to rise and gladden all the earth. "twitter, twitter, twee!" little birdies are so happy, and awake every morning as fresh and joyous as innocent children. "twitter, twitter, twitter, twee!" went the song for fully half an hour, till it was so light that even the lazy sparrows began to awake, and squabble, and scold, and fight; for you must know that sparrows hold about the same social rank in the feathered creation, that the dwellers around billingsgate do among human beings. then there would be such a chorus of squabbling from the big trees, that poor robin had to give up singing in disgust, and come down to have his breakfast. "hullo!" he would cry, addressing a humble-bee, who with his wings all bedraggled in dew, was slowly moving across the gravel, thinking the sun would soon rise and dry him--for poor bees often do stay too long on thistles at night, get drugged with the sweet-scented ambrosia, and are unable to get home till morning--"hullo!" robin would say; "do you know you're wanted?" the poor bee would hold up one arm in mute appeal. "keep down your hands," robin would say; "i'll do it ever so gently;" and off the bee's head would go in a twinkling. then robin would eye his victim till the sting ceased to work out and in, then quietly swallow it. this, with an earthworm or two, and a green caterpillar by way of relish, washed down with a bill-full of water from a little pool in a cabbage-leaf, would form robin's breakfast; then away he would fly to the woods, where he could sing all day in peace. and so the summer sped away in that quiet spot, and anon the fields were all ablaze with the golden harvest, and the sturdy leaves of our chestnut-trees turned yellow and brown, and the great nuts came tumbling down in a steady cannonade each time the wind shook the branches. and the twin chestnuts, perhaps, looked more lovely now than ever they had looked--they had borrowed the tints of the autumn sunset; yet their very beauty told us now that the end was not far away. the wind of a night now moved the branches with a harsher, drier rustling, like the sound of breaking waves or falling water, and we often used to dream we were away at sea, tossed up and down on the billows. "heigho!" we [part of this page missing.] there were days when the sun set in an ochrey haze, when the evening star with its dimmed eye looked down from a sky of emerald green, where as the gloaming deepened into night, not a cloud was there to hide the glittering orbs; then the fairies set to work to adorn the trees, and when morning came, lo! what a sight was there! all around the hoar-frost lay, white and deep on bush and brake, on the hedgerows and brambles; and every twiglet and thorn was studded with starry jewels on tit twin chestnuts, and they were trees no more--every branchlet and spray was changed to glittering coral; and garlands of silver and lace-work, lovelier far than human brains could ever plan or fingers weave, were looped from bough to bough, and hung in sheeny radiance around the sturdy stems. those dear old chestnut-trees! and as the seasons pass o'er the chestnut-trees, and each one clothes them in a beauty of its own, so across the seasons of our life time spreads his varied joys: childhood, in its innocence, hath its joys, youth in its hope of brighter days, manhood in its strength and ambition, and old age in the peaceful trust of a better world to come. chapter twenty six. the story of aileen's husband, nero. "the pine-trees, gathering closer in the shadows, listened in every spray--" i certainly had no intention of bringing tears to little ida's eyes; it was mere thoughtlessness on my part, but the result was precisely the same; and there was ida kneeling beside that great newfoundland, theodore nero, with her arms round his neck, and a moment or two after i had spoken, i positively saw a tear fall on his brow, and lie there like a diamond. ah! such tears are far more precious than any diamonds. "you don't love that dog, mouse?" these were the words i had given utterance to, half-banteringly, as she sat near me on the grass playing with the dog. i went on with my writing, and when i looked up again beheld that tear. yes, i felt sorry, and set about at once planning some means of amends. i knew human nature and ida's nature too well to make any fuss about the matter--i would not even let her know i had seen her wet eyelashes, nor did i attempt to soothe her. if i had done so, there would have been some hysterical sobbing and a whole flood of tears, with red eyes and perhaps a headache to follow. so without looking up i said-- "by the way, birdie, did ever i tell you nero's story?" "oh, no," she said, in joyful forgetfulness of her recent grief; "and i would so like to hear it. but," she added, doubtfully, "a few minutes ago you said you could not talk to me, that you must finish writing your chapter. why have you changed your mind?" "i don't see why in this world, ida," i replied, smiling, "a man should not be allowed to change his mind sometimes as well as a woman." this settled the matter, and i put away my paper in my portfolio, and prepared to talk. where were we seated? why, under the old pine-tree--our _very_ favourite seat. my wife was engaged at home turning gooseberries into jam, and had packed ida and me off, to be out of the way, and friend frank himself had gone that day on some kind mission or other connected with boys. i never saw any one more fond of boys than frank was; i am sure he spent all his spare cash on them. he was known all over the parish as the boys' friend. if in town frank saw a new book suitable for a boy, it was a temptation he could not resist. if he had been poor, i'm certain he would have gone without his dinner in order to secure a good book for a boy. he was constantly finding out deserving lads and getting them situations, and the day they were going to start was a very busy one indeed for frank. he would be up betimes in the morning, sometimes before the servants, and often before the maids came down he would have the fire lighted, and the kettle boiling, and everything ready for breakfast. then he would hurry away to the boy's home, to see he got all ready in time for the start, and that he also had had breakfast. he saw him to the station, gave him much kind and fatherly advice, and, probably, in the little kit that accompanied the lad, there were several comforts in the way of clothes, that wouldn't have been there at all if friend frank had not possessed the kindest heart that ever warmed a human breast. i said frank found out the _deserving_ boys; true. but he did not forget the undeserving either, and positively twice every season what should frank do but get up what he called-- ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "the bad boys' cricket match." nobody used to play at these matches but the bad boys and the unregenerate and the ungrateful boys. and after the match was over, if you had peeped into the tent you would have seen frank, his jolly face radiant, seated at the head of a well-spread table, and all his bad boys around him, and, had you been asked, you could not have said for certain whether frank looked happier than the boys, or the boys happier than frank. but i've seen a really bad boy going away from home to some situation, where frank was sending him on trial, and bidding frank good-bye with the big lumps of tears rolling down over cheeks and nose, and heard the boy say-- "god bless ye, sir; ye've been a deal kinder to me than my own father, and i'll try to deserve all your goodness, sir, and lead a better life." to whom frank would curtly reply, perhaps with a tear in his own honest blue eye-- "don't thank me, boy--i can't stand that. there, good-bye; turn over a new leaf, and don't let me see you back for a year--only write to me. good-bye." and frank's boys' letters, how he did enjoy them to be sure! dear frank! he is dead and gone, else dare i not write thus about him, for a more modest man than my friend i have yet to find. well, frank was away to-day on some good mission, and that is how ida and i were alone with the dogs. nero, by the way, was on the sick-list to some extent. indeed, nero never minded being put on the sick-list if there was nothing very serious the matter with him, because this entailed a deal of extra petting, and innumerable tit-bits and dainties that would never otherwise have found the road to his appreciative maw. as to petting, the dog could put up with any amount of it; and it is a fact that i have known him sham ill in order to be made much of. once, i remember, he had hurt his leg by jumping, and long after he was better, if any of us would turn about, when he was walking well enough, and say--in fun, of course--"just look how lame that poor dear dog is!" then nero would assume the alexandra limp on the spot, and keep it up for some time, unless a rat happened to run across the road, or a rabbit, or a hedgehog put in an appearance--if so, he forgot all about the bad leg. "well, birdie," i said, "to give you anything like a complete history of that faithful fellow you are fondling is impossible. it would take up too much time, because it would include the history of the last ten years of my own life, and that would hardly be worth recording. when my poor old tyro died, the world, as far as dogs were concerned, seemed to me a sad blank. i have never forgotten tyro, the dog of my student days, i never shall, and i am not ashamed to say that i live in hopes of meeting him again. "what says tupper about sandy, birdie? repeat the lines, dear, if you remember them, and then i'll tell you something about nero." ida did so, in her sweet, girlish tones; and even at this moment, reader, i have only to shut my eyes, and i seem to see and hear her once more as she sits on that mossy bank, with her one arm around the great newfoundland's neck, and the summer wind playing with her bonnie hair. "thank you, birdie," i said, when she had finished. "now then," said ida. "i was on half-pay when i first met nero," i began, "and for some time the relations between us were somewhat strained, for newfoundlands are most faithful to old memories. the dog seemed determined not to let himself love me or forget his old master, and i felt determined not to love him. it seemed to me positively cruel to let any other animal find a place in my affections, with poor tyro so recently laid in his grave in the romantic old castle of doune. so a good month went past without any great show of affection on either side. "advancement towards a kindlier condition of feeling betwixt us took place first and foremost from the dog's side. he began to manifest regard for me in a somewhat strange way. his sleeping apartment was a nice, clean, well-bedded out-house, but every morning he used to find his way upstairs to my room before i was awake, and on quietly gaining an entrance, the next thing he would do was to place his two fore-paws on the bed at my shoulder, then raise himself straight up to the perpendicular. "so when i awoke i would find, on looking up, the great dog standing thus, looming high above me, but as silent and fixed as if he had been a statue chiselled out of the blackest marble. "at first it used to be quite startling, but i soon got used to it. he never bent his head, but just stood there. "`i'm here,' he seemed to say, `and you can caress me if you choose; i wouldn't be here at all if i didn't care just a little about you.' "but one morning, when i put up my hand and patted him, and said--`you are a good, honest-hearted dog, i do believe,' he lowered his great head instantly, and licked my face. "that is how our friendship began, ida, and from that day till this we have never been twenty-four hours parted--by sea or on land he has been my constant companion. "he was very young when i first got him, and had only newly been imported, but he was even then quite as big as he is now. "the ice being broken, as i might say, affection both on his side and on mine grew very fast; but what cemented our friendship infrangibly was a terrible illness that the poor fellow contracted some months after i got him. "he began to get very thin, to look pinched about the face, and weary about the eyes, his coat felt harsh and dry, and his appetite went away entirely. "he used to look up wistfully in my face, as if wanting me to tell him what could possibly be the matter with him. "the poor dog was sickening for distemper. "all highly-bred dogs take this dreadful illness in its very worst form. "i am not going to describe the animal's sufferings, nor any part of them; they were very great, however, and the patience with which he bore them all would have put many a human invalid to shame. he soon came to know that i was doing all i could to save him, and that, nauseous though the medicines were he had to take, they were meant to do him good, and at last he would lick his physic out of the spoon, although so weak that his head had to be supported while he was doing so. "one night, i remember, he was so very ill that i thought it was impossible he could live till morning, and i remember also sorrowfully wondering where i should lay his great body when dead, for we lived then in the midst of a great, bustling, busy city. but the fever had done its worst, and morning saw him not only alive, but slightly better. "i was on what we sailors call a spell of half-pay, so i had plenty of time to attend to him--no other cares then, ida. i did all my skill could suggest to get him over the after effects of the distemper, and soon had the satisfaction of seeing him one of the most splendid newfoundlands that had ever been known in the country, with a coat that rivalled the raven's wing in darkness and sheen. "the dog loved me now with all his big heart--for a newfoundland is one of the most grateful animals that lives--and if the truth must be told, i already loved the dog. "nero was bigger then, ida, than he is now." "is that possible?" said ida. "it is; for, you see, he is getting old." "but dogs don't stoop like old men," laughed ida. "no," i replied, "not quite; but the joints bend more, the fore and hind feet are lengthened, and that, in a large dog like a saint bernard or newfoundland, makes a difference of an inch or two at the shoulder. but when nero was in his prime he could easily place his paws on the shoulder of a tall man, and then the man's head and his would be about on a level. "somebody taught him a trick of taking gentlemen's hats off in the street." "oh!" cried ida, "i know who the somebody was; it was you, uncle. how naughty of you!" "well, ida," i confessed, "perhaps you are right; but remember that both the dog and i were younger then than we are now. but nero frequently took a fancy to a policeman's helmet, and used to secure one very neatly when the owner had his back turned, and having secured it, he would go galloping down the street with it, very much to the amusement of the passengers, but usually to the great indignation of the denuded policeman. it would often require the sum of sixpence to put matters to rights." "i am so glad," said ida, "he does not deprive policemen of their helmets now; i should be afraid to go out with him." "you see, ida, i am not hiding any of the dog's faults nor follies. he had one other trick which more than once led to a scene in the street. i was in the habit of giving him my stick to carry. sometimes he would come quietly up behind me and march off with it before i had time to prevent him. this would not have signified, if the dog had not taken it into his head that he could with impunity snatch a stick from the hands of any passer-by who happened to carry one to his--the dog's--liking. it was a thick stick the dog preferred, a good mouthful of wood; but he used to do the trick so nimbly and so funnily that the aggrieved party was seldom or never angry. i used to get the stick from nero as soon as i could, giving him my own instead, and restore it with an ample apology to its owner. "but one day nero, while out walking with me, saw limping on ahead of us an old sailor with a wooden leg. i daresay he had left his original leg in some field of battle, or some blood-stained deck. "`oh!' nero seemed to say to himself, `there is a capital stick. that is the thickness i like to see. there is something in that one can lay hold of.' "and before i could prevent him, he had run on and seized the poor man by the wooden leg. nero never was a dog to let go hold of anything he had once taken a fancy to, unless he chose to do so of his own accord. on this occasion, i feel convinced he himself saw the humour of the incident, for he stuck to the leg, and there was positive merriment sparkling in his eye as he tugged and pulled. the sailor was irish, and just as full of fun as the dog. whether or not he saw there was half-a-crown to be gained by it i cannot say, but he set himself down on the pavement, undid the leg, and off galloped nero in triumph, waving the wooden limb proudly aloft. the irishman, sitting there on the pavement, made a speech that set every one around him laughing. i found the dog, and got the leg, slipping a piece of silver into the old sailor's hand as i restored it. "well, that was an easy way out of a difficulty. worse was to come, however, from this trick of nero's; for not long after, in a dockyard town, while out walking, i perceived some distance ahead of me our elderly admiral of the fleet. i made two discoveries at one and the same time: the first was, that the admiral carried a beautiful strong bamboo cane; the second was, that master nero, after giving me a glance that told me he was brimful of mischief, had made up his mind to possess himself of that bamboo cane. before i could remonstrate with him, the admiral was caneless, and as brimful of wrath as the dog was of fun. "the situation was appalling. "i was in uniform, and here was a living admiral, whom _my_ dog assaulted, the dog himself at that very moment lying quietly a little way off, chewing the head of the cane into match-wood. an apology was refused, and i couldn't offer him half-a-crown as i had done the old wooden-legged sailor. "the name of my ship was demanded, and with fear and trembling in my heart i turned and walked sorrowfully away." [this page missing.] chapter twenty seven. the story of aileen's husband, nero--continued. "his hair, his size, his mouth, his lugs, showed he was none o' scotland's dogs." burns. "you see, dear," i continued, "that nero had even in his younger days a very high sense of humour and fun, and was extremely fond of practical joking, and this trait of his character sometimes led his master into difficulties, but the dog and i always managed to get over them. at a very early age he learned to fetch and carry, and when out walking he never seemed happy unless i gave him something to bring along with him. poor fellow, i daresay he thought he was not only pleasing me, but assisting me, and that he was not wrong in thinking so you will readily believe when told that, in his prime, he could carry a large carpet bag or light portmanteau for miles without the least difficulty. he was handy, therefore, when travelling, for he performed the duties of a light porter, and never demanded a fee. "he used to carry anything committed to his charge, even a parcel with glass in it might be safely entrusted to his care, if you did not forget to tell him to be very cautious with it. "i was always very careful to give him something to carry, for if i did not he was almost sure to help himself. when going into a shop, for instance, to make a purchase, he was exceedingly disappointed if something or other was not bought and handed to him to take home. once i remember going into a news-agent's shop for something the man did not happen to have. i left shortly, taking no thought about my companion, but had not gone far before nero went trotting past me with a well-filled paper bag in his mouth, and after us came running, gasping and breathless, a respectable-looking old lady, waving aloft a blue gingham umbrella. `the dog, the dog,' she was bawling, `he has run off with my buns! stop thief!' "i stopped the thief, and the lady was gracious enough to accept my apologies. "not seeing me make any purchase, nero had evidently said to himself--`why, nothing to carry? well, i don't mean to go away without anything, if my master does. here goes.' and forthwith he had pounced upon the paper bag full of buns, which the lady had deposited on the counter. "at sheerness, bathers are in the habit of leaving their boots on the beach while they enjoy the luxury of a dip in the sad sea waves. they usually put their stockings or socks in the boots. when quite a mile away from the bathing-place, one fine summer's day, i happened to look round, and there was nero walking solemnly after me with a young girl's boot, with a stocking in it, in his mouth. we went back to the place, but i could find no owner for the boot, though i have no doubt it had been missed. don't you think so, birdie?" "yes," said ida; "only fancy the poor girl having to go home with one shoe off and one shoe on. oh! nero, you dear old boy, who could have thought you had ever been so naughty in the days of your youth!" "well, another day when travelling, i happened to have no luggage. this did not please master nero, and in lieu of something better, he picked up a large bundle of morning papers, which the porter had just thrown out of the luggage van. he ran out of the station with them, and it required no little coaxing to make him deliver them up, for he was extremely fond of any kind of paper to carry. "but nero was just as honest, ida, when a young dog as he is now. nothing ever could tempt him to steal. the only thing approaching to theft that could be laid to his charge happened early one morning at boston, in lincolnshire. i should tell you first, however, that the dog's partiality for rabbits as playmates was very great indeed. he has taken more to cats of late, but when a young dog, rabbits were his especial delight. "we had arrived at boston by a very early morning train, our luggage having gone on before, the night before, so that when i reached my journey's end, i had only to whistle on my dog, and, stick in hand, set out for my hotel. it was the morning of an agricultural show, and several boxes containing exhibition rabbits lay about the platform. "probably the dog had reasoned thus with himself:-- "`those boxes contain rabbits; what a chance to possess myself of a delightful pet! no doubt they belong to my master, for almost everything in this world does, only he didn't notice them; but i'm sure he will be as much pleased as myself when he sees the lovely rabbit hop out of the box; so here goes. i'll have this one.' "the upshot of nero's cogitations was that, on looking round when fully a quarter of a mile from the station, to see why the dog was not keeping pace with me, i found him marching solemnly along behind with a box containing a live rabbit in his mouth. he was looking just a little sheepish, and he looked more so when i scolded him and made him turn and come back with it. "dogs have their likes and dislikes to other animals and to people, just as we human beings have. one of nero's earliest companions was a beautiful little pure white pomeranian dog, of the name of `vee-vee.' he was as like an arctic fox--sharp face, prick ears, and all--as any dog could be, only instead of lagging his tail behind him, as a fox does, the pomeranian prefers to curl it up over his back, probably for the simple reason that he does not wish to have it soiled. vee-vee was extremely fond of me, and although, as you know, dear nero is of a jealous temperament, he graciously permitted vee-vee to caress me as much as he pleased, and me to return his caresses. "it was a sight to see the two dogs together out for a ramble--nero with his gigantic height, his noble proportions, and long flat coat of jetty black, and vee-vee, so altogether unlike him in every way, trotting along by his side in jacket of purest snow! "vee-vee's jacket used to be whiter on saturday than on any other day, because it was washed on that morning of the week, and to make his personal beauties all the more noticeable he always on that day and on the next wore a ribbon of blue or crimson. "now, mischievous nero, if he got a chance, was sure to tumble vee-vee into a mud-hole just after he was nearly dried and lovely. i am sure he did it out of pure fun, for when vee-vee came downstairs to go out on these occasions, nero would meet him, and eye him all over, and walk round him, and snuff him, and smell at him in the most provoking teasing manner possible. "`oh! aren't you proud!' he would seem to say, and `aren't you white and clean and nice, and doesn't that bit of blue ribbon, suit you! what do you think of yourself, eh? my master can't wash me white, but i can wash you black, only wait till we go out and come to a nice mud-heap, and see if i don't change the colour of your jacket for you.' "vee-vee, though only a pomeranian, learned a great many of nero's tricks; this proves that one dog can teach another. he used to swim along with nero, although when first going into the water he sometimes lost confidence, and got on to his big friend's shoulders, at which nero used to seem vastly amused. he would look up at me with a sparkle of genuine mirth in his eye as much as to say-- "`only look, master, at this little fool of a vee-vee perched upon my shoulder, like a fantail pigeon on top of a hen-house. but i don't mind his weight, not in the slightest.' "vee-vee used to fetch and carry as well as nero, in his own quiet little way. one day i dropped my purse in the street, and was well-nigh home before i missed it. you may judge of my joy when on looking round i found vee-vee coming walking along with the purse in his mouth, looking as solemn as a little judge. vee-vee, i may tell you, was only about two weeks old when i first had him; he was too young to wean, and the trouble of spoon-feeding was very great. in my dilemma, a favourite cat of mine came to my assistance. she had recently lost her kittens, and took to suckling young vee-vee as naturally as if she had been his mother." "how strange," said ida, "for a cat to suckle a puppy." "cats, ida," i replied, "have many curious fancies. a book [note ] that i wrote some little time since gives many very strange illustrations of the queer ways of these animals. cats have been known to suckle the young of rats, and even of hedgehogs, and to bring in chickens and ducklings, and brood over them. this only proves, i think, that it is cruel to take a cat's kittens away from her all at once." "yes, it is," ida said, thoughtfully; "and yet it seems almost more cruel to permit her to rear a large number of kittens that you cannot afterwards find homes for." "a very sensible remark, birdie. well, to return to our mutual friend nero: about the same time that he had as his bosom companion the little dog vee-vee, he contracted a strange and inexplicable affection for another tiny dog that lived quite a mile and a half away, and for a time she was altogether the favourite. the most curious part of the affair was this: nero's new favourite was only about six or seven inches in height, and so small that it could easily have been put into a gentleman's hat, and the hat put on the gentleman's head without much inconvenience to either the gentleman or the dog. "when stationed at sheerness, we lived on board h.m.s. p--, the flagship there. on board were several other dogs. the captain of marines had one, for example, a large, flat-coated, black, saucy retriever, that rejoiced in the name of `daidles'; the commander had two, a large fox-terrier, and a curly-coated retriever called `sambo.' all were wardroom dogs--that is, all belonged to the officers' mess-room--and lived there day and night, for there were no fine carpets to spoil, only a well-scoured deck, and no ladies to object. upon the whole, it must be allowed that there was very little disagreement indeed among the mess dogs. the fox-terrier was permitted to exist by the other three large animals, and sometimes he was severely chastised by one of the retrievers, only he could take his own part well enough. with the commander's curly retriever, nero cemented a friendship, which he kept up until we left the ship, and many a romp they had together on deck, and many a delightful cruise on shore. but daidles, the marine officer's dog, was a veritable snarley-yow; he therefore was treated by nero to a sound thrashing once every month, as regularly as the new moon. it is but just to nero to say that daidles always commenced those rows by challenging nero to mortal combat. wild, cruel fights they used to be, and much blood used to be spilled ere we could part them. as an instance of memory in the dog, i may mention that two years after nero and i left the ship, we met captain l--and his dog daidles by chance in chatham one day. nero knew daidles, and daidles knew nero, long before the captain and i were near enough to shake hands. "`hullo!' cried nero; `here we are again.' "`yes,' cried daidles; `let us have another fight for auld lang syne.' "and they did, and tore each other fearfully. "nero's life on board this particular ship was a very happy one, for everybody loved him, from the captain downwards to the little loblolly boy who washed the bottles, spread the plasters, and made the poultices. "the blue-jackets all loved nero; but he was more particularly the pet of the marine mess. this may be accounted for from the fact that my servant was a marine. "but every day when the bugle called the red-coats to dinner-- "`that calls me,' master nero would say; then off he would trot. "his plan was to go from one table to another, and it would be superfluous to say that he never went short. "nero had one very particular friend on board--dear old chief engineer c--. now my cabin was a dark and dismal one down in the cockpit, i being then only junior surgeon; the engineer's was on the main deck, and had a beautiful port. as mr c--was a married man, he slept on shore; therefore he kindly gave up his cabin to me--no, not to _me_, as he plainly gave me to understand, but to _nero_. "nero liked his comforts, and it was c--'s delight of a morning after breakfast to make nero jump on top of my cot, and put his head on my pillow. then c--would cover him over with a rug, and the dog would give a great sigh of satisfaction and go off to sleep, and all the din and all the row of a thousand men at work and drill, could not waken nero until he had his nap out. "on sunday morning the captain went round all the decks of the ship inspecting them--the mess places, and the men's kits and cooking utensils, everything, in fact, about the ship was examined on this morning. he was followed by the commander, the chief surgeon, and by nero. "the inspection over, the boats were called away for church on shore. having landed, the men formed into marching order, band first, then the officers, and next the blue-jackets. nero's place was in front of the band, and from the gay and jaunty way he stepped out, you might have imagined that he considered himself captain of all these men. "sometimes a death took place, and the march to the churchyard was a very solemn and imposing spectacle. the very dog seemed to feel the solemnity of the occasion; and i have known him march in front all the way with lowered head and tail, as if he really felt that one of his poor messmates was like tom bowling, `a sheer hulk,' and that he would never, never see him again. you remember the beautiful old song, ida, and its grand, ringing old tune-- "`here a sheer hulk lies poor tom bowling, the darling of our crew; no more he'll hear the billows howling, for death has broached him to. his form was of the manliest beauty, his heart was pure and soft; faithful below he did his duty, and now he has gone aloft.' "it was on board this ship that nero first learned that graceful inclination of the body we call making a bow, and which aileen aroon there has seen fit to copy. "you see, on board a man-o'-war, ida, whenever an officer comes on the quarter-deck, he lifts his hat, not to any one, remember, but out of respect to her majesty the queen's ship. the sailors taught nero to make a bow as soon as he came upstairs or up the ship's side, and it soon came natural to him, so that he really was quite as respectful to her majesty as any officer or man on board. "my old favourite, tyro, was so fond of music that whenever i took up the violin, he used to come and throw himself down at my feet. i do not think nero was ever fond of music, and i hardly know the reason why he tolerated the band playing on the quarter-deck, for whenever on shore if he happened to see and hear a brass band (a german itinerant one, i mean), he flew straight at them, and never failed to scatter them in all directions. i am afraid i rather encouraged him in this habit of his; it was amusing and it made the people laugh. it did not make the german fellows laugh, however--at least, not the man with the big bassoon--for nero always singled him out, probably because he was making more row than the others. a gentleman said one day that nero ought to be bought by the people of margate, and kept as public property to keep the streets clear of the german band element. "but nero never attempted to disperse the ship's band--he seemed rather to like it. i remember once walking in a city up north, some years after nero left the service, and meeting a band of volunteers. "`oh,' thought nero, `this does put me in mind of old times.' "i do not know for certain that this was really what the dog thought, but i am quite sure about what he did, and that was, to put himself at the head of that volunteer regiment and march in front of it. as no coaxing of mine could get the dog away, i was obliged to fall in too, and we had quite a mile of a march, which i really had not expected, and did not care for. "nero's partiality for marines was very great; but here is a curious circumstance: the dog knows the difference between a marine and a soldier in the street, for even a year after he left garrison, if he saw a red-jacket in the street, he would rush up to its owner. if a soldier, he merely sniffed him and ran on; if a marine, he not only sniffed him, but jumped about him and exhibited great joy, and perhaps ended by taking the man's cap in a friendly kind of a way, and just for auld lang syne. "nero's life on board ship would have been one of unalloyed happiness, except for those dreadful guns. the dog was not afraid of an ordinary fowling-piece, but a cannon was another concern, and as we were very often at general quarters, or saluting other ships, nero had more than enough of big guns. terrible things he must have thought them--things that went off when a man pulled a string, that went off with fire and smoke, and a roar louder than any thunder; things that shook the ship and smashed the crockery, and brought his master's good old fiddle tumbling down to the deck--terrible things indeed. even on days when there was no saluting or firing, there was always that eight o'clock gun. "as soon as the quartermaster entered the wardroom, a few seconds before eight in the evening, and reported the hour to the commander, poor nero took refuge under the sofa. "he knew the man's knock. "`eight o'clock, sir, please,' the man would say. "`make it so,' the commander would reply, which meant, `fire the gun.' "this was enough for nero; he was in hiding a full minute before they could `make it so.'" "is that the reason," asked ida, "why you sometimes say eight o'clock to him when you want him to go and lie down?" "yes, birdie," i replied. "he does not forget it, and never will as long as he lives. if you look at him even now, you will see a kind of terror in his eye, for he knows what we are talking about, and he is not quite sure that even here in this peaceful pine wood some one might not fire a big gun and make it eight o'clock." "no, no, no," cried ida, throwing her arms around the dog, "don't be afraid, dear old nero. it shan't be eight o'clock. it will never, never be eight o'clock any more, dearest doggie." ------------------------------------------------------------------------ note . "friends in fur." published by messrs. dean and son, fleet street, london. chapter twenty eight. the story of aileen's husband, nero--continued. "his locked and lettered braw brass collar showed him the gentleman and scholar." "you promised," said my little companion the very next evening, "to resume the thread of nero's narrative." "very prettily put, birdie," i said; "resume the thread of nero's narrative. did i actually make use of those words? very well, i will, though i fear you will think the story a little dull, and probably the story-teller somewhat prosy. "do you know, then, ida, that i am quite convinced that providence gave mankind the dog to be a real companion to him, and i believe that this is the reason why a dog is so very, very faithful, so long-suffering under trial, so patient when in pain, and so altogether good and kind. when i look at poor old nero, as he lies beside you there, half asleep, yet listening to every word we say, my thoughts revert to many a bygone scene in which he and i were the principal actors. and many a time, ida, when in grief and sorrow, i have felt, rightly or wrongly, that i had not a friend in the world but himself. "well, dear, i had learned to love nero, and love him well, when i received an appointment to join the flagship at sheerness. the fact is i had been a whole year on sick leave, and nero and i had been travelling for the sake of my health. there was hardly a town in england, ireland, or scotland we had not visited, and i always managed it so that the dog should occupy the same room as myself. by the end of a twelvemonth, nero had got to be quite an old and quite a wise traveller. his special duty was to see after the luggage--in other words, master nero was baggage-master. when i left a hotel, my traps were generally taken in a hand-cart or trolly. close beside the man all the way to the station walked my faithful friend, he himself in all probability carrying a carpet bag, and looking the very quintessence of seriousness and dignified importance. as soon as he saw the porter place the luggage in the van, then back he would come to me, with many a joyous bark and bound, quite regardless of the fact that he sometimes ran against a passenger, and sent him sprawling on the platform. "when we arrived at our journey's end, nero used to be at the luggage van before me. and here is something worth recording: as we usually came out at a door on the opposite side of the train to that at which we had entered, i was apt for a moment or two to forget the position of the luggage van. nero never made a mistake, so i daresay his scent assisted him. as soon as the luggage was put on the trolly, and the man started with it, the dog went with him, but as the man often went a long way ahead of me, nero was naturally afraid of losing sight of me; therefore if the porter attempted to turn a corner the dog invariably barked, not angrily, but determinedly, till he stopped. as soon as i came up, then the procession went on again, till we came to another corner, when the man had to stop once more. i remember he pulled a man down, because he would not stop, but he did not otherwise hurt him at all. "in the train, he either travelled in the same carriage with myself, or in cases where the guard objected to this, i travelled in the van with the dog, so we were not separated. "if a man is travelling much by train or by steamboat, he need never feel lonely if he has as splendid a dog as the champion theodore nero with him; for the dog makes his master acquaintances. "when nero was with me, i could hardly stand for a moment at a street corner or to look in at a shop window without attracting a small crowd. i was never half an hour on the deck of a steamer without some one coming up and saying-- "`excuse me, sir, but what a noble-looking dog you have! what breed is he? pure newfoundland, doubtless.' "this would in all probability lead to conversation, and many an acquaintance i have thus formed, which have ripened into friendships that last till this day. "well, ida, when i received my appointment to the flagship, my very first thoughts were about my friend the dog, and with a sad feeling of sinking at my heart, i asked myself the question--`will nero be permitted to live on board?' to part with the dear fellow would have been a grief i could not bear to contemplate. "an answer to the question, however, could not be obtained until i joined my ship, that was certain; so i started. "it was in the gloaming of a blustering day in early spring that the train in which we travelled, slowly, and after much unseemly delay, rolled rattling into the little station at sheerness, and after a shoulder-to-shoulder struggle between half a dozen boatmen, who wished to take me, bag and baggage, off somewhere, and the same number of cabbies, who wished to carry me anywhere else, i was lucky enough to get seated in a musty conveyance that smelt like the aroma of wet collie-dogs and stale tobacco, with a slight suspicion of bad beer. against the windows of this rattletrap beat the cold rain, and the mud flew from the wheels as from a wet swab. lights were springing up here and there in the street under the busy fingers of a lamp-lighter, who might have been mistaken for a member of the monkey tribe, so nimbly did he glide up and down his skeleton ladder, and hurry along at his task. the wind, too, was doing all in its power to render his work abortive, and the gas-lights burned blue under the blast. "we were glad when we reached the hotel, but i was gladder still when, on making some inquiries about the ship i was about to join, i was told that the commander was extremely fond of dogs, and that he had two of his own. "i slept more soundly after that. "next day, leaving my friend carefully under lock and key in charge of the worthy proprietor of the fountain hotel, i got into uniform, and having hired a shore boat, went off to my ship to report myself. to my joy i found commander c--to be as kind and jovial a sailor as any one could wish to see and talk to. i was not long before i broached the subject nearest to my heart. "`objection to your dog on board?' he said, laughing. `bring him, by all means; he won't kill mine, though, i hope.' "`that i'm sure he won't,' i replied, feeling as happy as if i had just come into a fortune. "i went on shore with a light heart, and hugged the dog. "`we're not going to be parted, dear old boy,' i said. `you are going on board with me to-morrow.' "the evening before my heart was as gloomy as the weather; to-day the sun shone, and my heart was as bright as the sky was blue. nero and i set out after luncheon to have a look at the town. "sheerness on two sides is bounded by the dockyard, which divides it from the sea. indeed, the dockyard occupies the most comfortable corner, and seems to say to the town, `stand aside; you're nobody.' the principal thoroughfare of sheerness has on one side of it the high, bleak boundary wall, while on the other stands as ragged-looking a line of houses as one could well imagine, putting one in mind of a regiment of militia newly embodied and minus uniform. as you journey from the station, everything reminds you that you are in a naval seaport of the lowest class. lazy watermen by the dozen loll about the pier-head with their arms, to say nothing of their hands, buried deeply in their breeches-pockets, while every male you meet is either soldier or sailor, dockyard's man or solemn-looking policeman. every shop that isn't a beer-house, is either a general dealer's, where you can purchase anything nautical, from a sail-needle to sea boots, or an eating house, in the windows of which are temptingly exposed joints of suspiciously red corned-beef, soapy-looking mutton and uninviting pork, and where you are invited to partake of tea and shrimps for ninepence. "so on the whole the town of sheerness itself is by no means a very inviting one, nor a very savoury one either. "but away out beyond the dockyard and over the moat, and sheerness brightens up a little, and spreads out both to left and right, and you find terraces with trim little gardens and green-painted palings, while instead of the odour of tar and cheese and animal decay, you can breathe the fresh, pure air from over the ocean, and see the green waves come tumbling in and break in soft music on the snowy shingle. "here live the benedicts of the flagship. at half-past seven of a fine summer morning you may see them, hurried and hungry, trotting along towards the dockyard, looking as if another hour's sleep would not have come amiss to them. but once they get on board their ships, how magic-like will be the disappearance of the plump soles, the curried lobster, the corned-beef, and the remains of last night's pigeon-pie, while the messman can hardly help looking anxious, and the servants run each other down in their hurry to supply the tea and toast! "of the country immediately around this town of sheerness, the principal features are open ditches, slimy and green, evolving an effluvium that keeps the very bees at bay, encircling low flat fields and marshy moors, affording subsistence only to crazy-looking sheep and water rats. the people of sheerness eat the sheep; i have not been advised as to their eating the rats. "but, and if you are young, and your muscles are well developed, and your tendo achillis wiry and strong, then when the summer is in its prime and the sun is brightly shining, shall you leave the odoriferous town and its aguish surroundings, and like `jack of the bean-stalk,' climb up into a comparative fairyland. at the top of the hill stands the little village of minster, its romantic old church and ivied tower begirt with the graves of generations long since passed and gone, the very tombstones of which are mouldering to dust. the view from here well repays the labour of climbing the bean-stalk. but leave it behind and journey seaward over the rolling tableland. rural hamlets; pretty villages; tree-lined lanes and clovery fields with grazing kine--you shall scarcely be tired of such quiet and peaceful scenery when you arrive at the edge of the clayey cliff, with the waves breaking among the boulders on the beach far beneath you, and the sea spreading out towards the horizon a vast plain of rippling green, crowded with ships from every land and clime. heigho! won't you be sorry to descend your bean-stalk and re-enter sheerness once again? "i do not think, ida, that ship dogs' lives are as a rule very happy ones. they get far too little exercise and far too much to eat, so they grow both fat and lazy. but in this particular flagship neither i nor my friend nero had very much to grumble about. the commander was as good as he looked, and there was not an officer in the ship, nor a man either, that had not a kind word for the dog. "the great event of the day, as far as nero and i were concerned, was going on shore in the afternoon for a walk, and a dip in the sea when the weather was warm. whether the weather was warm or not, nero always had his bath, for the distance to the shore being hardly half a mile, no sooner had the boat left the vessel's side than there were cries from some of us officers of the vessel-- "`hie over, you dogs, hie over, boys.' "the first to spring into the sea would be nero, next went his friend sambo, and afterwards doggie daidles. the three black heads in the water put one in mind of seals. although the retrievers managed to keep well up for some time, gradually the newfoundland forged ahead, and he was in long before the others, and standing very anxiously gazing seawards to notice how sambo was getting on; for the currents run fearfully strong there. daidles always got in second. of daidles nero took not the slightest notice; even had he been drowning he would have made no attempt to save him; but no sooner did sambo approach the stone steps than with a cry of fond anxiety, the noble newfoundland used to rush downwards, seize sambo gently by the neck, and help him out. "i was coming from the shore one day, when sambo fell from a port into the sea. nero at once leapt into the water, and swimming up to his friend, attempted to seize him. the conversation between them seemed to be something like the following-- "_nero_: `you're drowning, aren't you? let me hold you up.' "_sambo_: `nonsense, nero, let go my neck; i could keep afloat as long as yourself.' "_nero_: `very well, here goes then; but i _must_ pick something up.' "so saying, nero swam after a piece of newspaper, seized that, and swam to the ladder with it; some of the men lent him a helping hand, and up he went. "the flagship was a tall old line of battle ship; on the starboard side was a broad ladder, on the port merely a ladder of ropes. on stormy days, with a heavy sea on, the starboard ladder probably could not be used, and so the dog had to be lowered into the boat and hoisted up therefrom with a long rope. to make matters more simple and easy for him, one of the men made the dog a broad belt of canvas. to this corset the end of the rope was attached, and away went nero up or down as the case happened to be. "although as gentle by nature as a lamb, nero would never stand much impudence from another dog without resenting it. when passing through the dockyard one day, we met an immense saint bernard, who strutted up to nero, and at once addressed him in what appeared to me the following strain-- "`hullo! got on shore, have you? i daresay you think yourself a pretty fellow now? but you're not a bit bigger than i am, and not so handsome. i've a good mind to bite you. yah! you're only a surgeon's dog, and my master is captain of the dockyard. yah!' "`don't growl at me,' replied nero; `my master is every bit as good as yours, and a vast deal better, _so_ don't raise your hair, else i may lose my temper.' "`yah! yah!' growled the saint bernard. "`come on, nero,' i cried; `don't get angry, old boy.' "`half a minute, master,' replied nero; `here is a gentleman that wants to be brought to his bearings.' "next moment those two dogs were at it. it was an ugly fight, and some blood was spilled on both sides, but at last nero was triumphant. he hauled the saint bernard under a gun carriage and punished him severely, i being thus powerless to do anything. "then nero came out and shook himself, while the other dog lay beaten and cowed. "`i don't think,' said nero to me, `that he will boast about his master again in a hurry.' "generosity is a part of the newfoundland dog's nature. at my father's village in the far north, called inverurie, there used to be a large black half-bred dog, that until nero made an appearance lorded it over all the other dogs in the town. this animal was a bully, and therefore a coward. he had killed more than one dog. "the very first day that he saw nero he must needs rush out and attack him. he found himself on his back on the pavement in a few moments. then came the curious part of the intercourse. instead of worrying him, nero simply held him down, and lay quietly on top of him for more than two minutes, during which time he appeared to reason with the cur, who was completely cowed. "`i'll let you up presently,' nero said; `but you must promise not to attempt to attack me again.' "`i promise,' said the other dog. "then, much to the amusement of the little crowd that had collected, nero very slowly raised himself and walked away. behold! no sooner had he turned his back than his prostrate foe sprang up and bit him viciously in the leg. "it was no wonder nero now lost his temper, or that he shook that black dog as a servant-maid shakes a hearthrug. "_i_ tried to intervene to save the poor mongrel, but was kept back by the mob. "`let him have it, sir,' cried one man; `he killed s--'s dog.' "`yes, let him have it,' cried another; `he kills dogs and he kills sheep as well.' "to his honour be it said, i never saw nero provoke a fight, but when set upon by a cur he always punished his foe. in two instances he tried to drown his antagonist. a dog at sheerness attacked him on the beach one day. nero punished him well, but seeing me coming to the dog's rescue, he dragged the dog into the sea and lay on him there. i had to wade in and pull master nero off by the tail, else the other dog would assuredly have been drowned. i am referring to a large red retriever, lame in one leg, that belonged to the artillery. he had been accidentally blown from a gun and set fire to. that was the cause of his lameness. "there was a large newfoundland used to be on the _great eastern_, whose name was `sailor.' before nero's appearance at sheerness, he was looked upon as the finest specimen of that kind of dog ever seen. he had to lower his flag to nero, however. "they met one morning on the beach at the oyster beds. "`hullo!' said sailor, `you are the dog that everybody is making such a fuss over. you're nero, aren't you?' "`my name is theodore nero,' said my friend, bristling up at the saucy looks of the stranger. "`and my name is sailor, at your service,' said the other, `and i belong to the largest ship in the world. and i don't think much of you. yah!' "`good-morning,' said nero. "`not so fast,' cried the other; `you've got to fight first, but i daresay you're afraid. eh! yah!' "`am i?' said nero. `we'll see who is afraid.' "next moment the oyster beach was a battle-field. but some sailors coming along, we managed to pull the dogs asunder by the tails. whenever sailor saw nero after this he took to his heels and ran away. but a good dog was sailor for all that, and a very clever water-dog. he used to jump from the top of the paddle-box of the great ship into the sea--a height, i believe, of about seventy feet. "nero's prowess as a water-dog was well known in sheerness, and wonderful stories are told about him, even to this day; not all of which are true, any more than the tales of the knights of old are. but some of our marines managed to turn his swimming powers to good account, as the following will testify. "on days when it was impossible for me to get on shore, i used to send my servant with the dog for a swim and a run. when near the dockyard steps, a great log of wood used to be pitched out of the boat, and nero sent after it. anything nero fetched out of the water he considered his own or his master's property, which it would be dangerous for any one to meddle with. well, as soon as he had landed with the log, nero used to march up the steps, the water flowing behind from his splendid coat, up the steps and through the dockyard; the policemen only stood by marvelling to see a dog carrying such an immense great log of wood. if my servant carried a basket, that would be searched for contraband goods, rum or tobacco. "then my servant would pass on, smiling in his own sleeve as the saying is, for no one ever dreamed of searching the dog." "searching the dog!" said ida, with wondering eyes. "yes, dear, the dog was a smuggler, though he did not know it. for that log of wood was a hollow one, and stuffed with tobacco. i did not know of this, of course." "how wicked!" said ida. "why, nero, you've been a regular pirate of the boundless ocean." chapter twenty nine. the story of aileen's husband, nero--continued. "poor dog! he was faithful and kind, to be sure, and he constantly loved me, although i was poor." campbell. "do i think that master nero knows we are talking about him? yes, birdie, of that i am quite convinced. just look at the cunning old rogue lying there pretending to be asleep, but with his ears well forward, and one eye half-open. and aileen, too, knows there is a bit of biography going on, and that it is all about her well-beloved lord and master. "but to tell you one-tenth part of all that had happened to nero, or to me and nero together, would take far more time than i can spare, dear ida. i could give you anecdote after anecdote about his bravery, his strength, his nobility of mind, and his wonderful sagacity; but these would not make you love him more than you do. "and you never can love the faithful fellow half so much as i do. i have been blamed for loving him far too well, and reminded that he is only a dog. "only a dog! how much i hate the phrase; and sinful though i know it to be, i can hardly help despising those who make use of it. but of those who do use the expression, there are few, i really believe, who would wonder at me loving that noble fellow so well did they know the sincere friend he has been many a time and oft to me. "he saved my life--worthless though it may be--he saved the life of another. tell you the story? it is not a story, but two stories; and though both redound to the extreme wisdom and sagacity and love of the dog, both are far too sad for you to listen to. some day i may tell them. perhaps--" there was a pause of some minutes here; ida, who was lying beside the dog, had thrown her arms around his neck, and was fondly hugging him. aileen came directly to me, sighed as usual, and put her head on my shoulder. "love begets love, ida, and i think it was more than anything else the dog's extreme affection for me, shown in a thousand little ways, that caused me to take such a strong abiding affection for him. he knew--as he does now--everything i said, and was always willing to forestall my wishes, and do everything in the world to please me. "when ill one time, during some of our wanderings, and laid up in an out-of-the-way part of the country among strange people, it was a sad anxiety for me to have to tell the dog he must go out by himself and take his necessary ramble, as i was far too ill to leave my bed. "the poor animal understood me. "`good-bye, master,' he seemed to say, as he licked my face; `i know you are ill, but i won't stop out long.' "he was back again in a quarter of an hour, and the same thing occurred every time he was sent by himself; he never stopped more than fifteen minutes. "would a human friend have been as careful? do you not think that there were temptations to be resisted even during that short ramble of his-- things he would have liked to have stopped to look at, things he would have liked to have chased? many a dog, i have no doubt, invited him to stop and play, but the dog's answer must have been, `nay, nay, not to-day; i have a poor sick master in bed, and i know not what might happen to him in this strange place, and among so many strange people. i must hurry and get home.' "when he did return, he did so as joyfully and made as much fuss over me as if he had been away for a week. "`i didn't stop long, _did_ i, master?' he would always say, when he returned. "but wasn't he a happy dog when he got me up and out again? weak enough i was at first, but he never went far away from me, just trotted on and looked about encouragingly and waited. i allowed him to take me where he chose, and i have reason to believe he led me on his own round, the round he had taken all by himself every day for weeks before that. "`nero, old boy,' i said to him one day, some time after this sickness, `come here.' "the dog got up from his corner, and laid his saucy head on my lap. "`i'm all attention, master,' he said, talking with his bonnie brown eyes. "`i don't believe there are two better newfoundlands in england than yourself, nero.' "`i don't believe there is one,' said nero. "`don't be saucy,' i said. "`didn't i take a cup at the crystal palace?' "`yes, but it was only second prize, old boy.' "`true, master, but nearly every one said it ought to have been first. i'm only two years old and little over, and isn't a second prize at a crystal palace show a great honour for a youngster like myself?' "`true, nero, true; and now i've something to propose.' "`to which,' said the dog, `i am willing to listen.' "`well,' i said, `there are dozens of dog-shows about to take place all over the country. i want a change: suppose we go round. suppose we constitute ourselves show folk. eh?' "`capital.' "`and you'll win lots of prize-money, nero.' "`and you'll spend it, master. capital again.' "`there won't be much capital left, i expect, doggie, by the time we get back; but we'll see a bit of england, at all events.' "so we agreed to start, and so sure of winning with the dog was i that i bought that splendid red patent leather collar that you, ida, sometimes wear for a waist-belt. the silver clasps on it were empty then, but each time the dog won a prize, the name of the town was engraved on one of the clasps." "they are pretty well filled up now," said ida. "yes, the dog won nineteen first prizes and cups in little over three months, which was very fair for those days. he was then dubbed champion. there was not a newfoundland dog from glasgow to neath that would have cared to have met nero in the show ring. "he used to enter the arena, too, with such humour and dash, with his grand black coat floating around him, and the sun glittering on it like moonbeams on a midnight sea. that was how nero entered the judging ring; he never slunk in, as did some dogs. he just as often as not had a stick in his mouth, and if he hadn't, he very soon possessed himself of one. "`yes, look at me all over,' he would say to the judges; `there is no picking a fault in me, nor in my master either for that matter. i'm going to win, that's what i'm here for.' "but when i was presented with the prize card by the judge, nero never failed to make him a very pretty bow. "the only misfortune that ever befell the poor fellow was at edinburgh dog-show. "on the morning of the second day--it was a three or four day exhibition--i received a warning letter, written in a female hand, telling me that those who were jealous of the dog's honours and winnings were going to poison him. "i treated the matter as a joke. i could not believe the world contained a villain vile enough to do a splendid animal like that to death, and so cruel a death, for the sake of pique and jealousy. but i had yet to learn what the world was. "the dog was taken to the show, and chained up as usual at his place on the bench. alas! when i went to take him home for the night i found his head down, and hardly able to move. i got him away, and sat up with him all night administering restoratives. "he was able to drink a little milk in the morning, and to save his prize-money i took him back, but had him carefully watched and tended all the remaining time that the show was open. "we went to boston, lincoln, gainsborongh, and all over yorkshire and lancaster and chester, besides scotland, and our progress was a triumph to the grand and beautiful dog. especially was he admired by ladies at shows. wherever else they might be, there was always a bevy of the fair sex around nero's cage. during that three months' tour he had more kisses probably than any dog ever had before in the same time. it was the same out of the show as in it--no one passed him by without stopping to admire him. "`aren't we having a splendid time, master?' the dog said to me one day. "`splendid,' i replied; `but i think we've done enough, my doggie. i think we had better retire now and go to sea for a spell.' "`heigho!' the dog seemed to say; `but wherever your home is there mine is too, master.'" "there is a prize card hanging on the wall of the wigwam," said ida, "on which nero is said to have won at a life-saving contest at southsea." "yes, dear, that was another day's triumph for the poor fellow. he had won on the show bench there as well, and afterwards proved his prowess in the sea in the presence of admiring thousands. "your honest friend there, ida, has been all along as fond of human beings and other animals as he is now. in their own country newfoundlands are used often as sledge dogs, and sometimes as retrievers, but i do not think it is in their nature to take life of any kind, unless insect life, my gentle ida. they don't like blue-bottles nor wasps, i must confess, but nero has given many proofs of the kindness of heart he possesses that are really not easily forgotten. "tell you a few? i'll tell you one or two. the first seems trivial, but there is a certain amount of both pathos and humour about it. two boys had been playing near the water at gosport, and for mischiefs sake one had pitched the other's cap into the tide and ran off. the cap was being floated away, and the disconsolate owner was weeping bitterly on the bank, when we came up. nero, without being told, understood what was wrong in a moment; one glance at the floating cap, another at the boy, then splash! he had sprang into the tide, and in a few minutes had laid the rescued article at the lad's feet; then he took his tongue across his cheek in a rough kind of caressing way. "`there now,' he appeared to say, `don't cry any more.' "nero ought to have made his exit here, and he would have come off quite the hero; but no, the spirit of mischief entered into him, and he shook himself, sending buckets of water all over the luckless lad, who was almost as wet now as if he had swam in after his cap himself. then nero came galloping up to me, laughing all over at the trick he had played the poor boy. "this trick of shaking himself over people was taught him by one of my messmates; and he used to delight to take him along the beach on a summer's day, and put him in the water. when he came out, my friend would march along in front of the dog, till the latter was close to some gay lounger, then turn and say, `shake yourself, boy.' the _denouement_ may be more easily imagined than described, especially if the lounger happened to be a lady. i'm ashamed of my friend, but love the truth, ida." "how terribly wicked of nero to do it!" said ida. "and yet i saw the dog one day remove a drowning mouse from his water dish, without putting a tooth in it. he placed it on the kitchen floor, and licked it as tenderly over as a cat would her kitten. he looked up anxiously in my face, as much as to say, `do you think the poor thing can live?' "hurricane bob there, his son, does not inherit all his father's finest qualities; he would not scruple to kill mice or rats by the score. in fact, i have reason to believe he rather likes it. his mother was just the same before him; a kindly-hearted dog she was, but as wild as a wolf, and full of fun of the rough-and-tumble kind." "were you never afraid of losing poor nero?" "i did lose him one dark winter's night, ida, in the middle of a large and populous city. luckily, i had been staying there for some time--two weeks, i think--and there were different shops in different parts of the city where i dealt, and other places where i called to rest or read. the dog was always in the habit of accompanying me to the shops, to bring home the purchases, so he knew them all. the very day on which i lost the dog i had changed my apartments to another quarter of the city. "in the evening, while walking along a street, with nero some distance behind me, it suddenly occurred to me to run into a shop and purchase a magazine i saw in the window. i never thought of calling the dog. i fancied he would see me entering the book-shop and follow, but he didn't; he missed me, and thinking i must be on ahead, rushed wildly away up the street into the darkness and rain, and i saw him no more that night. "only those who have lost a favourite dog under such circumstances can fully appreciate the extent of my grief and misery. i went home at long last to my lonely lodgings. how dingy and dreadful they seemed without poor nero's honest form on the hearthrug! where could he be, what would become of him, my only friend, my gentle, loving, noble dog, the only creature that cared for me? you may be sure i did not sleep, i never even undressed, but sat all night in my chair, sleeping towards morning, and dreaming uneasy dreams, in which the dog was always first figure. "i was out and on my way to the police offices ere it was light. the weather had changed, frost had come, and snow had fallen. "several large black dogs had been found during the night; i went to see them all. alas! none was nero. so after getting bills printed, and arranging to have them posted, i returned disheartened to my lodgings. but when the door opened, something as big as a bear flew out, flew at me, and fairly rolled me down among the snow. "`no gentler caress, master,' said nero, for it was he, `would express the joy of the occasion.' "poor fellow, i found out that day that he had been at every one of the places at which i usually called; i daresay he had gone back to our old apartments too, and had of course failed to find me there. as a last resort he turned up at the house of an old soldier with whom i had had many a pleasant confab. this was about eleven o'clock; it was eight when he was lost. not finding me here, he would have left again, and perhaps found his way to our new lodgings; but the old soldier, seeing that something must be amiss, took him in, kept him all night, found my rooms in the morning, and fetched him home. you may guess whether i thanked the old man or not. "when dolls (_see_ page ) came to me first, he was in great grief for the loss of his dear master [note ]. nero seemed to know it, and though he seldom made much of a fuss over dogs of this breed, he took dolls under his protection; indeed, he hardly knew how kind to be to him. "i ought to mention that mortimer collins and nero were very great friends indeed, for the poet loved all things in nature good and true. "there was one little pet that nero had long before you knew him, ida. his name was pearl, a splendid pomeranian. perhaps pearl reminded nero very much of his old favourite, vee-vee. at all events he took to him, used to share his bed and board with him, and protected him from the attacks of strange dogs when out. pearl was fat, and couldn't jump well. i remember our coming to a fence one day about a foot and a half high. the other dogs all went bounding over, but pearl was left to whine and weep at the other side. nero went straight back, bounded over and re-bounded over, as if showing pearl how easy it was. but pearl's heart failed, seeing which honest nero fairly lifted him over by the back of the neck. "i was going to give a dog called `pandoo' chastisement once. pandoo was a young newfoundland, and a great pet of nero, whose son he was. i got the cane, and was about to raise it, when nero sprang up and snatched it from my hand, and ran off with it. it was done in a frolicsome manner, and with a deal of romping and jumping. at the same time, i could see he really meant to save the young delinquent; so i made a virtue of necessity, and pardoned pandoo. "but nero's love for other animals, and his kindness for all creatures less and weaker than himself, should surely teach our poor humanity a lesson. you would think, to see him looking pityingly sometimes at a creature in pain, that he was saying with the poet-- "`poor uncomplaining brute, its wrongs are innocent at least, and all its sorrows mute.' "one day, at the ferry at hotwells, clifton, a little black-and-tan terrier took the water after a boat and attempted to cross, but the tide ran strong, and ere it reached the centre it was being carried rapidly down stream. on the opposite bank stood nero, eagerly watching the little one's struggles, and when he saw they were unsuccessful, with one impatient bark--which seemed to say, `bear up, i'm coming'--he dashed into the water, and ploughed the little terrier all the way over with his broad chest, to the great amusement of an admiring crowd. "on another occasion some boys near manchester were sending a dandie-dinmont into a pond after a poor duck; the dandie had almost succeeded in laying hold of the duck, when nero sprang into the water, and brought out, not the duck, but the dandie by the back of the neck. "i saw one day a terrier fly at him and bite him viciously behind. he turned and snapped it, just once. once was enough. the little dog sat down on the pavement and howled piteously. nero, who had gone on, must then turn and look back, and then _go_ back _and lick the place he had bitten_. "`i really didn't intend to hurt you so much,' he seemed to say; `but you did provoke me, you know. there! there! don't cry.'" ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "now then, ida, birdie, let us have one good scamper through the pine wood and meadow, and then hie for home. come on, dogs; where are you all? aileen, nero, bob, gipsy, eily, broom, gael, coronach? hurrah! there's a row! there's music! that squirrel, ida, who has been cocking up there on the oak, listening to all we've been saying, thinks he'd better be off. there isn't a bird in the wood that hasn't ceased its song, and there isn't a rabbit that hasn't gone scurrying into its hole, and i believe the deer have all jumped clean out of the forest; the hare thinks he will be safer far by the river's brink; and the sly, wily old weasel has come to the conclusion that he can wait for his dinner till the dogs go home. the only animal that doesn't run away is the field-mouse. he means to draw himself up under a burdock leaf and wait patiently till the hairy hurricane sweeps onward past him. then he'll creep out and go nibbling round as usual. come." ------------------------------------------------------------------------ note . the poet mortimer collins. he came into my possession shortly after his death. chapter thirty. ida's illness--mercy to the dumb animals. "then craving leave, he spake of life, which all can take but none can give; life, which all creatures love and strive to keep, wonderful, dear, and pleasant unto each, even to the meanest; yea, a boon to all where pity is, for pity makes the world soft to the weak and noble to the strong." e. arnold's "light of asia." it was sadly changed times with all of us when ida fell ill. her illness was a very severe one, and for many weeks she literally hovered 'twixt death and life. her spirit seemed like some beautiful bird of migration, that meditates quitting these cold intemperate shores and flying away to sunnier climes, but yet is loath to leave old associations and everything dear to it. there was little done during these weeks, save attending to ida's comforts, little thought about save the child. even the dogs missed their playmate. the terriers went away to the woods every day by themselves. eily, the collie, being told that she must make no noise, refrained from barking even at the butcher, or jumping up and shaking the baker by his basket, as had been her wont. poor aileen aroon went about with her great head lower than usual, and with a very apologetic look about her, a look that, beginning in her face, seemed to extend all the way to the point of her tail, which she wagged in quite a doleful manner. nero and she took turn and turn about at keeping watch outside ida's room door. ida's favourite cat seldom left her little mistress's bedside, and indeed she was as often in the bed as out of it. it was winter--a green winter. too green, frank said, to be healthy; and the dear old man used to pray to see the snow come. "a bit of a frost would fetch her round," he said. "i'd give ten years of my life, if it is worth as much, to see the snow on the ground." the trees were all leafless and bare, but tiny flowers and things kept growing in under the shrubs in quite an unnatural way. but frank came in joyfully one evening, crying, "it's coming, gordon, it's coming; the stars are unspeakably bright; there is a steel-blue glitter in the sky that i like. it's coming; we'll have the snow, and we'll have ida up again in a month." i had not quite so much faith in the snow myself, but i went out to have a look at the prospect. it was all as frank had said; the weird gigantic poplars were pointing with leafless fingers up into a sky of frosty blue, up to stars that shone with unusual radiance; and as i walked along, the gravel on the path resounded to my tread. "i'll be right; you'll see, i'll be right," cried frank, exultant. "i'm an older man than you, gordon, doctor and all though you be." frank _was_ right. he was right about the snow, to begin with. it came on next morning; not all at once in great flakes. no, big storms never begin like that, but in grains like millet-seed. this for an hour; then mingling with the millet-seed came little flakes, and finally an infinity of large ones, as big as butterflies' wings. it was a treat to gaze upwards, and watch them coming dancing downwards in a dazzling and interminable maze. it was beautiful! it wanted but one thing at that moment to make me happy. that was the presence of our bright-faced, blue-eyed little pet, standing on the doorstep as she used to, gazing upwards, with apron outstretched to catch the falling flakes. frank was so overjoyed, he must needs go out and walk about in the snow for nearly an hour. i was in the kitchen engaged in some mysterious invalid culinary operation when frank came in. he always came in through the kitchen now, instead of the hall, lest he might disturb the child. frank's face was a treat to look at; it was redder, and appeared rounder than usual, and jollier. "there's three inches of snow on the ground already," he remarked, joyfully. "mary, bring the besom, my girl, to brush the snow off my boots. that's the style." strange as it may appear, from that very morning our little patient began to mend, and ere the storm had shown signs of abatement--in less than a week, in fact--ida was able to sit up in bed. thin was her face, transparent were her hands; yet i could see signs of improvement; the white of her skin was a more healthful white; her great, round eyes lost the longing, wistful look they had before. i was delighted when she asked me to play to her. she would choose the music, and i must play soft and low and sweet. her fingers would deftly turn the pages of the book till her eyes rested on something she loved, and she would say, with tears in her eyes-- "play, oh, play this! i do love it." i managed to find flowers for her even in the snowstorm, for the glass-houses at the manor of d--are as large as any in the country, and the owner was my friend. i think she liked to look at the hothouse fruit we brought her, better than to eat them. the dogs were now often admitted. even gael and broom were not entirely banished. my wife used to sew in the room, and sometimes read to ida, and frank used to come in and sit at the window and twirl his thumbs. his presence seemed to comfort the child. i used to write beside her. "what is that you are writing?" she said one day. "nothing much," i replied; "only the introduction to a `penny reading' i'm going to give against cruelty to animals." "read it," said ida; "and to-morrow, mind, you must begin and tell me stories again, and then i'm sure i shall soon get well, because whatever you describe about the fields or the woods, the birds or the flowers i can see, it is just like being among them." i had to do as i was told, so read as follows:-- ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "mercy to the dumb animals. "`i would give nothing for that man's religion whose cat and dog are not the better for it.'--_dr norman mcleod_. "`we are living in an enlightened age.' this is a remark which we hear made almost every day, a remark which contains just one golden grain of truth. mankind is not yet enlightened in the broad sense of the term. from the night of the past, from the darkness of bygone times, we are but groping our way, as it were, in the morning-glome, towards a great and a glorious light. "it is an age of advancement, and a thousand facts might be adduced in proof of this. i need point to only one: the evident but gradual surcease of needless cruelty to animals. among all classes of the community far greater love and kindness is now manifested towards the creatures under our charge than ever was in days gone by. we take greater care of them, we think more of their comfort when well, we tend them more gently when sick, and we even take a justifiable pride in their appearance and beauty. all this only shows that there is a spirit of good abroad in the land, a something that tends to elevate, not depress, the soul of man. i see a spark of this goodness even in the breast of the felon who in his prison cell tames a humble mouse, and who weeps when it is cruelly taken from him; in the ignorant costermonger who strokes the sleek sides of his fat donkey, or the rough and unkempt drover-boy, who shares the remains of a meagre meal with his faithful collie. "religion and kindness to animals go hand in hand, and have done so for ages, for we cannot truly worship the creator unless we love and admire his works. "the heavenly teaching of the mosaic law inculcates mercy to the beasts. it is even commanded that the ox and the ass should have rest on one day of the week--namely, the sabbath; that the ox that treadeth out the corn is not to be muzzled; that the disparity in strength of the ass and ox is to be considered, and that they should not be yoked together in one plough. even the wild birds of the field and woods are not forgotten, as may be seen by reading the following passage from the book of deuteronomy:--`if a bird's nest be before thee in any tree, or on the ground, whether they be young ones or eggs, and the dam sitting upon the young or upon the eggs, thou shalt not take the dam with the young: but thou shalt in any way let the dam go.' "the jews were commanded to be merciful and kind to an animal, even if it belonged to a person unfriendly to them. "`if thou see the ass of him that hateth thee lying under his burden, and wouldest forbear to help him, thou shalt surely help with him.' "that is, they were to assist even an enemy to do good to a fallen brute. it is as if a man, passing along the street, saw the horse or ass of a neighbour, who bore deadly hatred to him, stumble and fall under his load, and said to himself-- "`oh! yonder is so-and-so's beast come down; i'll go and lend a hand. so-and-so is no friend of mine, but the poor animal can't help that. _he_ never did me any harm.' "and a greater than even moses reminds us we are to show mercy to the animals even on the sacred day of the week. "but it is not so very many years ago--in the time when our grandfathers were young, for instance--since roughness and cruelty towards animals were in a manner studied, and even encouraged in the young by their elders. it was thought manly to domineer over helpless brutes, to pull horses on their haunches, to goad oxen along the road, though they were moving to death in the shambles, to stone or beat poor fallen sheep, to hunt cats with dogs, and to attend bull-baitings and dog and cock fights. and there are people even yet who talk of these days as the good old times when `a man was a man.' but such people have only to visit some low-class haunt of `the fancy,' when `business' is being transacted, to learn how depraving are the effects of familiarity with scenes of cruelty towards the lower animals. even around a rat-pit they would see faces more revolting in appearance than those of dore's demons, and listen to jests and language so ribald and coarse as positively to pain and torture the ear and senses. goodness be praised that such scenes are every day getting more rare, and that the men who attend them have a wholesome terror of the majesty of human laws at least. "other religions besides the christian impress upon their followers rules relating to kindness to the inferior animals. notably, perhaps, that of buddha, under the teachings of which about five hundred millions of human beings live and die. the doctrines of gautama are sublimely beautiful; they are akin to those of our own religion, and i never yet met any one who had studied them who did not confess himself the better and happier for having done so. one may read in prose sketches of the life and teachings of gautama the buddha, in a book published by the society for promoting christian knowledge, or he may read them in verse in that splendid poem by edwin arnold called `the light of asia.' gautama sees good in all things, and all nature working together for good; he speaks of-- "`that fixed decree at silent work which will evolve the dark to light, the dead to life, to fulness void, to form the yet unformed, good unto better, better unto best, by wordless edict; having none to bid, none to forbid; for this is past all gods immutable, unspeakable, supreme, a power which builds, unbuilds, and builds again, ruling all things accordant to the rule of virtue, which is beauty, truth, and use. so that all things do well which serve the power and ill which hinder; nay, the worm does well [note ] obedient to its kind; the hawk does well which carries bleeding quarries to its young; the dewdrop and the star shine sisterly, globing together in the common work; and man who lives to die, dies to live well, so if he guide his ways by blamelessness and earnest will to hinder not, but help all things both great and small which suffer life.' ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "those among us who have tender hearts towards the lower animals cannot help day after day witnessing acts of cruelty to them which give us great pain. we are naturally inclined to feel anger against the perpetrators of such cruelty, and to express that anger in wrathful language. by so doing i am convinced we do more harm than good to the creatures we try to serve. calmness, not heat or hurry, should guide us in defending the brute creation against those who oppress and injure it. let me illustrate my meaning by one or two further extracts from arnold's poem. "it is noontide, and gautama, engrossed in thought and study, is journeying onwards-- "`gentle and slow, radiant with heavenly pity, lost in care for those he knew not, save as fellow-lives.' "when,-- "`blew down the mount the dust of pattering feet, white goats, and black sheep, winding slow their way, with many a lingering nibble at the tufts, and wanderings from the path where water gleamed, or wild figs hung. but always as they strayed the herdsman cried, or slung his sling, and kept the silly crowd still moving to the plain. a ewe with couplets in the flock there was, some hurt had lamed one lamb, which toiled behind bleeding, while in the front its fellow skipped. and the vexed dam hither and thither ran, fearful to lose this little one or that. which, when our lord did mark, full tenderly he took the limping lamb upon his neck, saying: "poor woolly mother, be at peace! whither thou goest, i will bear thy care; 'twere all as good to ease one beast of grief, as sit and watch the sorrows of the world in yonder caverns with the priests who pray." so paced he patiently, bearing the lamb. beside the herdsman in the dust and sun, the wistful ewe low-bleating at his feet.' ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "sorely this was a lesson which the herdsman, ignorant though he no doubt was, never forgot; farther comment on the passage is needless. precept calmly given does much good, example does far more." ------------------------------------------------------------------------ note . a fact which darwin in his treatise on earthworms has recently proved. chapter thirty one. mirram: a sketch from the life of a cat--about summer songs and songsters. "the mouse destroyed by my pursuit no longer shall your feasts pollute, nor rats, from nightly ambuscade, with wasteful teeth your stores invade." gay. "books! 'tis a dull and endless strife, come and hear the woodland linnet; how sweet his music! on my life there's more of wisdom in it." wordsworth. ida continued to improve, and she did not let me forget my promise to resume my office of story-telling, which i accordingly did next evening, bringing my portfolio into ida's bedroom for the purpose. ida had her cat in her arms. the cat was singing low, and had his round, loving head on her shoulder, and his arms buried in her beautiful hair. so this suggested my reading the following:-- ------------------------------------------------------------------------ mirram: a sketch from the life of a cat. "mirram: that was the name of pussy. it appears a strange one, i admit; but you see there is nobody accountable for it except the little cat herself, for she it was who named herself mirram. i don't mean to say that pussy actually came to her little mistress, and said in as many words, `mirram is a pretty name, and i should like to be called mirram. call me mirram, please, won't you?' "for cats don't talk nowadays, except in fairy tales; but this is how it was. she was the most gentle and kindly-hearted wee puss, i believe, that ever was born, and if you happened to meet her anywhere, say going down the garden walk, she would look lovingly and confidingly up in your face, holding her tail very erect indeed, and `mirram' she would say. "you see, `mirram' was the only english word, if it be english, that pussy could speak, and she made it do duty on every occasion; so no wonder she came to be called mirram. "if she were hungry she would jump upon your knee, and gently rub her shoulders against you and say, `mirram.' "`mirram' in this case might be translated as follows: `oh, please, my dear little mistress, i am _so_ hungry! i've been up ever since five o'clock this morning. with the exception of a bird which i found and ate, feathers and all, and a foolish little mouse, i've had no breakfast. do give me a little milk.' "this would be an appeal that you couldn't resist, and you would give her a saucerful of nice new milk, telling her at the same time that it was very naughty of her to devour poor birds, who come and cheer us with their songs both in winter and in summer. "another morning she would come hopping in through the open window, when you least expected her, and say `mirram' in the most kindly tone. this would, of course, mean, `good-morning to you. i'm glad to see you downstairs at last. i've been up and out ever since sunrise. and, oh! such fun i've been having. you can't conceive what a fine morning it is, and what a treat it is to rise early.' "and now, having introduced this little puss to you by name, i must tell you something about her playmates, and say a word or two about the place she lived in, and her life in general, and after that show you how pussy at one time came to grief on account of a little fault she had. of course, we all have our little faults, which we should strive to conquer, and i may as well confess at once what mirram's was. well, it was--_thoughtlessness_. "the first and the chief of pussy's playmates, then, was her child-mistress. would you like to know what her name was? i will tell you with pleasure; and when you hear it i'm sure you will say it is a strange one. she had two christian names--the first was fredabel, the second was inez--fredabel inez--the latter being spanish. "`but,' you will say, `is "fredabel" spanish too, because i never heard of such a name before?' "no, i am quite sure you never did; for this reason: no child was ever called by that name before, the fact being that her papa invented the name for her, as it was the only way he could see to get out of a dilemma, or difficulty. and here was the dilemma. when pussy's mistress was quite a baby, her two aunts came to see her, and they had no sooner seen her than they both loved her very much; so they both went one morning into her papa's study, and the following conversation took place:-- "`good-morning, brother,' said one aunt. `i love your baby very, _very_ much, and i want you to call her after me--her first name, mind you--and when she grows up she won't lose by it.' "`good-morning, brother,' said the other aunt. `i also love your dear baby very much, and if you call her first name after mine, when she grows up she'll gain by it.' "well, when baby's papa heard both the aunts speak like this, he was very much perplexed, and didn't know what to do, because he didn't want to offend either the one aunt or the other. "but after a great deal of cogitation, he possessed himself of a happy thought, or rather, i should say, a happy thought took possession of him. you see the name of the one aunt was freda, and the name of the other was bella, so what more natural than that baby's papa should compound a name for her between the two, and call her fredabel. "so he did, and both aunts were pleased and merry and happy. "but at the time our tale begins baby hadn't grown up, nor anything like it; she was just a little child of not much over four years old. "now, as the one aunt always called her freda and the other bella, and as everybody else called her eenie, i think we had better follow everybody else's example, and call her eenie, too. "was eenie pretty, did you ask? yes, she was pretty, and, what is still better than being pretty, she was very kind and good. so no wonder that everybody loved her. she had a sweet, lovely face, had eenie. her hair, that floated over her lair shoulders, was like a golden sunbeam; her eyes were blue as the bluest sky, and large and liquid and love-speaking, and when she looked down her long dark eyelashes rested on cheeks as soft as the blossom of peach or apricot. "yet she was merry withal, merry and bright and gay, and whenever she laughed, her whole face was lighted up and looked as lovely as sunrise in may. "i have said that eenie was good and kind, and so she was; good and kind to every creature around her. she never tormented harmless insects, as cruel children do, and so all creatures seemed to love her in return: the trees whispered to her, the birds sang to her, and the bees told her tales. "that was pussy mirram's mistress then; and it was no wonder mirram was fond of her, and proud to be nursed and carried about by her. mind you, she would not allow any one else to carry her. if anybody else had taken her up, puss would have said--`mirram!' which would mean, `put me down, please; i've got four legs of my own, and i much prefer to use them.' and if the reply had been--`well, but you allow eenie to handle and nurse you,' pussy would have answered and said-- "`isn't eenie my mistress, my own dear mistress? could any one ever be half so kind or careful of me as she is? does she ever forget to give me milk of a morning or to share with me her own dinner and tea? does she not always have my saucer filled with the purest, freshest water? and does she forget that i need a comfortable bed at night? no; my mistress may carry me as much as she pleases, but no one else shall.' "now mirram was a mighty hunter, but she was also very fond of play; and when the dogs were in their kennels on very bright sunshiny days, and her little mistress was in the nursery learning her lessons, as all good children do, mirram would have to play alone. _she_ wasn't afraid of the bright sunshine, if the dogs were; she would race up into a tall apple-tree, and laying herself full length on a branch, blink and stare at the great sun for half an hour at a time. then-- "`oh!' she would cry, `this resting and looking at the sun is very lazy work. i must play. let me see, what shall i do? oh! i have it; i'll knock an apple down--then hurrah! for a game of ball.' "and so she would hit a big apple, and down it would roll on the broad gravel-path; and down pussy would go, her face beaming with fun; and the game that ensued with that apple was quite a sight to witness. it was lawn-tennis, cricket, and football all in one. then when quite tired of this, she would thrust the apple under the grass for the slugs to make their dinner of, and off she would trot to knock the great velvety bees about with her gloved paws. she would soon tire of this, though, because she found the bees such serious fellows. "she would hit one, and knock it, maybe, a yard away; but the bee would soon get up again. "`it is all very well for you, miss puss,' the bee would say; `your life is all play, but i've got work to do, for i cannot forget that, brightly though the sun is shining now, before long cold dismal winter will be here, and very queer i should look if i hadn't laid up a store of nice honey to keep me alive.' "and away the bee would go, humming a tune to himself, and mirram would spy a pair of butterflies floating high over the scarlet-runners, but not higher than mirram could spring. she couldn't catch them, though. "`no, no, miss puss,' the butterflies would say; `we don't want you to play with us. we don't want any third party, so please keep your paws to yourself.' "and away they would fly. "then perhaps mirram would find a toad crawling among the strawberry beds. "`you're after the fruit, aren't you?' pussy would say, touching it gently on the back. "`no, not at all,' the toad would reply. `i wouldn't touch a strawberry for the world; the gardener put me here to catch the slugs; he couldn't get on without me at all.' "`well, go on with your work, mr toad,' pussy would reply; `i'm off.' "and what a glorious old garden that was for pussy to play in, and for her mistress to play in! a rambling old place, in which you might lose yourself, or, if you had a companion, play at hide-and-seek till you were tired. and every kind of flower grew here, and every kind of fruit and vegetable as well; just the kind of garden to spend a long summer's day in. never mind though the day was so hot that the birds ceased to sing, and sat panting all agape on the apple-boughs--so hot that the very fowls forgot to cackle or crow, and there wasn't a sound save the hum of the myriads of insects that floated everywhere around, you wouldn't mind the heat, for wasn't there plenty of shade, arbours of cool foliage, and tents made of creepers?--and oh! the brilliancy of the sunny marigolds, the scarlet clustered geraniums, the larkspurs, purple and white, and the crimson-painted linums. no, you wouldn't mind the heat; weren't there strawberries as large as eggs and as cold as ice? and weren't there trees laden with crimson and yellow raspberries? and weren't the big lemon-tinted gooseberries bearing the bushes groundwards with the weight of their sweetness, and praying to be pulled? a glorious old garden indeed! "but see, the dogs have got out of their kennels, and have come down the garden walks on their way to the paddock, and pussy runs to meet them. "`what! dogs in a garden?' you cry. yes; but they weren't ordinary dogs, any more than it was an ordinary garden. they were permitted to stroll therein, but they were trained to keep the walks, and smell, but never touch, the flowers. they roamed through the rosary, they rolled on the lawn, they even slept in the beautiful summer-houses; but they never committed a fault--but in the autumn, when pears and apples dropped from the trees, they were permitted, and even encouraged, to eat their fill of the fruit. and they made good use of their privilege, too. these were pussy's playmates all the year round--the immense black newfoundlands, the princely boarhounds, the beautiful collies, and the one little rascal of a scottish terrier. you never met the dogs without also meeting mirram, whether out in the country roads or at home, on the leas or in the paddock; she pulled daisies to throw at the dogs in summer, and in winter she used to lie on her back, and in mere wantonness pitch pellets of snow at the great boar hound himself. "the dogs all loved her. once, when she was out with the dogs on a common, a great snarly bulldog came along, and at once ran to kill poor mirram. you should have seen the commotion that ensued. "`it is our cat,' they all seemed to cry, in a kind of canine chorus. `our cat--_our_ cat--our cat!' and all ran to save her. "no, they didn't kill him, though the boarhound wanted to; but the biggest newfoundland, a large-hearted fellow, said, `no, don't let us kill him, he doesn't know any better; let us just refresh his memory.' "so he took the cur, and trailed him to the pond and threw him in; and next time that dog met mirram he walked past her very quietly indeed! "mirram loved all the dogs about the place; but i think her greatest favourite was the wee wire-haired scottish terrier. perhaps it was because he was about her own size, or perhaps it was because he was so very ugly that she felt a kind of pity for him. but mirram spent a deal of time in his company, and they used to go trotting away together along the lanes and the hedges, and sometimes they wouldn't return for hours, when they would trot home again, keeping close cheek-by-jowl, and looking very happy and very funny. "`broom' this little dog had been called, probably in a frolic, and from some fancied resemblance between his general appearance and the hearth-brush. his face was saucy and impudent, and sharp as needles; his bits of ears cocked up, and his tiny wicked-looking eyes glanced from under his shaggy eyebrows, as if they had been boatman-beetles. i don't think broom was ever afraid of anything, and very important the little dog and pussy looked when returning from a ramble. they had secrets of great moment between them, without a doubt. perhaps, if her mistress had asked mirram where they went together, and what they did, mirram would have replied in the following words-- "`oh! you know, my dear mistress, we go hunting along by the hedgerows and by the ponds, and in the dark forests, and we meet with such thrilling adventures! we capture moles, and we capture great rats and frightful hedgehogs, and broom is so brave he will grapple even with a weasel; and one day he conquered and killed a huge polecat! yes, he is so brave, and nothing can ever come over me when broom is near.' "now, no one would have doubted that, in such a pretty, pleasant country home as hers, with such a kind mistress, and so many playmates, pussy mirram would have been as happy as ever a pussy could be. so she was, as a rule; but not always, because she had that one little fault-- thoughtlessness. ah! those little faults, how often will they not lead us into trouble! "i don't say that pussy ever did anything very terrible, to cause her mistress grief. she never did eat the canary, for instance. but she often stopped away all night, and thus caused little eenie much anxiety. pussy always confessed her fault, but she was so thoughtless that the very next moonlight night the same thing occurred again, and mirram never thought, while she was enjoying herself out of doors, that eenie was suffering sorrow for her sake at home. "on the flat roof of a house where mirram often wandered, in the moonlight was a tiny pigeon-hole, so small she couldn't creep in to save her life even, but from this pigeon-hole a bonnie wee kitten used often to pop out and play with mirram. where the pigeon-hole led to, or what was away beyond it, pussy couldn't even conjecture, though she often watched and wondered for hours, then put in her head to have a peep; but all was dark. "perhaps, when she was quite tired of wondering, and was just going to retire for the night, the little face would appear, and mirram would forget all about her mistress in the joy of meeting her small friend. "then how pleased mirram would look, and how loudly she would purr, and say to the kitten-- "`come out, my dear, do come out, and you shall play with my tail.' "but it was really very thoughtless of mirram, and just a little selfish as well, not to at once let kittie have her tail to play with; but no. "`sit there, my dear, and sing to me,' she would say. "kittie would do that just for a little while. very demure she looked; but kittens can't be demure long, you know; and then there would commence the wildest, maddest, merriest game of romps between the two that ever was seen or heard of; but always when the fun got too exciting for her, kittie popped back again into her pigeon-hole, appearing again in a few moments in the most provoking manner. "what nights these were for mirram, and how pleasantly they were spent, and how quickly they passed, perhaps no one but pussy and her little friend could tell. when tired of romping and running, like two feline madcaps, mirram would propose a song, and while the stars glittered overhead, or the moon shone brightly down on them, they would seat themselves lovingly side by side and engage in a duet. now, however pleasant cats' music heard at midnight may appear to the pussies themselves, it certainly is not conducive to the sleep of any nervous invalid who may happen to dwell in the neighbouring houses, or very soothing either. "mirram found this out to her cost one evening, and so did the kitten as well, for a window was suddenly thrown open not very far from where they sat. "`ah!' said mirram, `that is sure to be some one who is delighted with our music, and is going to throw something nice to us.' "alas! alas! the something _did_ come, but it wasn't nice. it took the shape of a decanter of water and an old boot. "one night pussy mirram had stayed out very much longer, and eenie had gone to bed crying, because she thought she would never, never see her mirram more. "thoughtless mirram! at that moment she was once again on the roof, and the kittie's face was at the pigeon-hole. mirram was sitting up in the most coaxing manner possible. "`come out again,' she was saying to kittie, `come out again. do come out to--' "she didn't see that terrible black cat stealing up behind; but she heard the low threatening growl, and sprang round to confront her and defend herself. "the fight was fierce and terrible while it lasted, and poor mirram got the worst of it. the black cat had well-nigh killed her. "`oh!' she sobbed, as she dropped bitter, blinding tears on the roof,--`oh, if i had never left my mistress! oh, dear! oh, dear! whatever shall i do?' "you see mirram was very sad and sorrowful now; but then, unfortunately, the repentance came when it was too late." "thank you," ida said, when i had finished; "i like the description of the garden ever so much. now tell me something about birds; i'll shut my eyes and listen." "but won't you be tired, dear?" said my wife. "no, auntie," was the reply; "and i won't go to sleep. i never tire hearing about birds, and flowers, and woods, and wilds, and everything in nature." "here is a little bit, then," i said, "that will just suit you, ida. it is short. that is a merit. i call it--" ------------------------------------------------------------------------ about summer songs and songsters. "sweet is the melody that at this season of the year arises from every feathered songster of forest, field, and lea. i am writing to-day out in the fields, seated, i might say, in the very lap of nature--my county is the very wildest and prettiest in all mid-england--and i cannot help throwing down my pen occasionally to watch the motions or listen to the singing of some or other of my wild pets. nothing will convince me that i am not as well known in the woods as if i were indeed a denizen thereof. the birds, at all events, know me, and they do not fear me, because i never hurt or frighten them. "high overhead yonder, and dimly seen against the light grey of a cloud, is the skylark. he is at far too great a height for me to see his head with the naked eye, so i raise the lorgnettes, and with these i can observe that even as he sings he turns his head earthwards to where, in her cosy grass-lined nest among the tender corn, sits his pretty speckled mate. he is singing to his mate. yonder, perched on top of the hedgerow, is my friend the yellow-hammer. he is arrayed in pinions of a deeper, brighter orange now. is it of that he is so proud? is it because of that that there comes ever and anon in his short and simple song a kind of half-hysterical note of joy? nay, _i_ know why he sings so, because i know where his nest is, and what is in it. "in the hollow of an old, old tree, bent and battered by the wind and weather, the starling has built, and the male bird trills his song on the highest branch, but in a position to be seen by his mate. not much music in his song, yet he is terribly in earnest about the matter, and i've no doubt the hen admires him, not only for the green metallic gloss of his dark coat, but because he is trying to do his best, and to her his gurgling notes are far sweeter than the music of merle, or the song of the nightingale herself. "but here is something strange, and it may be new to our little folk. there are wee modest mites of birds in the woods and forests, that really do not care to be heard by any other living ears than those of their mates. i know where there is the nest of a rose-linnet in a bush of furze, and i go and sit myself softly down within a few feet of it, and in a few minutes back comes the male bird; he has been on an errand of some kind. he seats himself on the highest twig of a neighbouring bush. he is silent for a time, but he cannot be so very long; and so he presently breaks out into his tender songlet, but so soft and low is his ditty, that at five yards' distance methinks you would fail to hear it. there are bold singers enough in copse and wild wood without him. the song of the beautiful chaffinch is clear and defiant. the mavis or speckled thrush is not only loud and bold in his tones, but he is what you might term a singer of humorous songs. his object is evidently to amuse his mate, and he sings from early morning till quite late, trying all sorts of trick notes, mocking and mimicking every bird within hearing distance. he even borrows some notes from the nightingale, after the arrival of that bird in the country; a very sorry imitation he makes of them, doubtless, but still you can recognise them for all that. "why is it we all love the robin so? many would answer this question quickly enough, and with no attempt at analysis, and their reply would be, `oh, because he deserves to be loved.' this is true enough; but let me tell you why i love him. though i never had a caged robin, thinking it cruel to deprive a dear bird of its liberty, i always do all i can to make friends with it wherever we meet. i was very young when i made my first acquaintance with master robin. we lived in the country, and one time there was a very hard winter indeed; the birds came to the lawn to be fed, but one was not content with simple feeding, and so one colder day than usual he kept throwing himself against a lower pane in the parlour window--the bright, cheerful fire, i suppose, attracted his notice. "`you do look so cosy and comfortable in that nice room,' he seemed to say; `think of my cold feet out in this dreary weather.' "my dear mother--she who first taught me to love birds and beasts, and all created things--did think of his cold feet. she opened the window, and by-and-by he came in. he would have preferred the window left open, but being given to understand that this would interfere materially with family arrangements, he submitted to his semi-imprisonment with charming grace, and perched himself on top of a picture-frame, which became his resting-place when not busy picking up crumbs, or drinking water or milk, through all the livelong winter. we were all greatly pleased when one day he threw back his pert wee head and treated us to a song. and it was always while we were at dinner that he sang. "`i suppose,' he seemed to say, `you won't object to a little music, will you?' then he would strike up. "but when the winter wore away he gave us to understand he had an appointment somewhere; and so he was allowed to go about his business. "my next adventure with a robin happened thus. i, while still a little boy, did a very naughty thing. by reading sea-stories i got enamoured of a sea life, and determined to run away from my old uncle, with whom i was residing during the temporary absence of my parents on the continent. the old gentleman was not over kind to me--_that_ helped my determination, no doubt. i did not get very far away--i may mention this at once--but for two nights and days i stayed in the heart of a spruce-pine wood, living on bread-and-cheese and whortleberries. my bed was the branches of the pines, which i broke off and spread on the ground, and all day my constant companion was a robin. i think he hardly ever left me. i am, or was, in the belief that he slept on me. be this as it may, he picked up the crumbs i scattered for him, and never forgot to reward me with a song. while singing he used to perch on a branch quite close overhead, and sang so very low, though sweetly, that i fully believed he sang for me alone. after you have read this you will readily believe, that there may have been a large foundation of truth in the beautiful tale of `the babes in the wood.' before nor since my childish escapade, i never knew a robin so curiously tame as the one i met in the spruce-pine wood. "birds take singular fancies for some people. i know a little girl who when a child had a great fancy for straying away by herself into the woods. she was once found fast asleep and almost covered with wild birds. some might tell me the birds were merely keeping their feet warm at the girl's expense. i have a very different opinion on the subject. "robins usually build in a green bank at the foot of a large tree, and lay four or five lightish yellow or dusky eggs; but i have found their nests in thorn-bushes. in the romantic isle of skye all small birds build in the rocks, because there are no trees there, and few bushes. in a cliff, for example, close to the sea, if not quite overhanging it, you will find at the lower part the nests of larks, finches, linnets, and other small birds; on a higher reach the nests of thrushes and blackbirds; higher still pigeons build; and near the top sea-gulls and birds of prey, including the owl family. "there is a short branch line not far from where i live, which ends five miles from the main artery of traffic. in the corner of a truck which had been lying idle at the little terminus for some time, a pair of robins built their nest, and the hen was sitting on five eggs when it became necessary to use the truck. "`don't disturb the nest,' said the kindly station-master to his men; `put something over it. but i daresay the bird will forsake it; she's sure to do so.' "but the bird did nothing of the kind, and although she had a little railway journey gratis, once a day at least, to the main line and back, she stuck to her nest, and finally reared her family to fledglings. "robins are early astir in the morning; their song is the first i hear. they sing, too, quite late at night; they also sing all the year round; and it is my impression, on the whole, that they like best to trill forth when other birds are silent. "the song-birds of our groves are neither jealous of each other nor do they hate each other. down at the foot of my lawn i have a large shallow pan placed, which is kept half-filled with water in summer. i can see it from my bedroom window, and it is very pleasant to watch the birds having a bath in the morning. there is neither jealousy nor hatred displayed during the performance of this most healthful operation. i sometimes see blackbirds, thrushes, and sparrows all tubbing at one time, and quite hilarious over it. chapter thirty two. harry's holiday--king john; or, the tale of a tub--sindbad; or, the dog of penellan. "country life,--let us confess it, man will little help to bless it, yet, for gladness there we may readily possess it in its native air. "rides and rambles, sports and farming, home, the heart for ever warming, books and friends and ease, life must after all be charming, full of joys like these." tupper. "i'm not sure, ida, that you will like the following story. there is truth in it, though, and a moral mixed up with it which you may unravel if you please. i call it--" ------------------------------------------------------------------------ harry's holiday. "the hero of my little story was a london boy. truth is, he had spent all the days and years of his young life in town. i do not think that he had ever, until a certain great event in his life took place, seen even the suburbs of the great city in which it was his lot to reside. his whole world consisted of stone walls, so to speak, of an interminable labyrinth of streets and lanes and terraces, for ever filled with a busy multitude, hurrying to and fro in the pursuit of their avocations. i believe he got to think at last that there was nothing, that there _could_ be nothing beyond this mighty london; and of country life, with all its joys and pleasures, he knew absolutely nothing. a tree to him was merely a dingy, sooty kind of shrub, that grew in the squares; flowers were gaudy vegetables used in window decorations; a lark was a bird that spent all its life in a box-cage, chiefly, in the neighbourhood of seven dials. as to trees growing in woods and in forests where the deer and the roe live wild and free; as to flowers carpeting the fields with a splendour of bloom; as to larks mounting high in air to troll their happy songs--he had not even the power of conception. true, he had read of such things, just as he had read of the moon as seen through a telescope, and the one subject was just as vague to him as the other. "harry at this time was, i fear, just a little sceptical. he lacked in a great measure that excellent quality, without which there would be very little real happiness in this world--i mean faith. he only believed in what he really saw and could understand, from which, of course, you will readily infer that his mind was neither a very comprehensive nor a very clever one. and you are right. "harry was not a strong boy; his face was pale, his eyes were large and lustrous, his poor little arms and legs were far from robust, and you could have found plenty of country lads who measured twice as much round the chest as harry. well, his parents, who really did all they could for their boy, were very pleased when one morning the postman brought them a letter from the far north, inviting their little son to come and spend a long autumn holiday at the farm of dunryan, in the wilds of aberdeenshire. he was to go all alone in the steamboat, simply in care of the steward, who promised to be very kind to him and look well after his comforts. and so he did, too; but i think that from the very moment that the great ship began to drop down the river, leaving the city behind it, with all its smoke and its gloom, harry began to be a new boy. a new current of life seemed to begin to circulate in his veins, a better state of feeling to take possession of his soul. there was no end to the wonders harry saw during his voyage to aberdeen. the sea itself was a sight which until now he could not have imagined--could not have even dreamed of. then there was the long line of wonderful coast. he had seen a panorama, but that couldn't have been very large, because it was contained within the four stone walls of a concert-room. but here was a panorama gradually unrolling itself before his astonished gaze hundreds and hundreds of miles in extent. no wonder that his eyes dilated as he beheld it: the black, beetling cliffs that frowned over the ocean's depths; the beautiful sandy beaches; the broad bays, with cities slumbering in the mists beyond; the green-topped hills; the waving woods; the houses; the palaces; and the grey old ruined castles that told of the might and strength of ages past and gone. all and every one of these seemed to whisper to harry--seemed to tell him that there were more wonderful things even in this world than he had ever before believed in. "when night came on, the stars shone out--stars more beautiful than he had ever seen before--so clear, so large, so bright. and they carried his thoughts far, far beyond the earth. in their pure presence he felt a better boy than ever he had felt before, but at the same time he could not help feeling ashamed of that feeling of unbelief that had possessed him in london. he was beginning to have faith already--a little, at all events. were i to tell you of all harry's adventures, and all the strange sights he saw ere he reached aberdeen, i would have quite a long story to relate. his uncle met him at the pier with a dog-cart, into which he helped him, the handsome, spirited horse giving just one look round, to see who was getting up. when he saw this mite of a hero of ours,-- "`oh,' said the horse to himself, `he won't make much additional weight. i'd trot along with a hundred of such as he is.' "so away they went. now harry had been taught to look upon london as the finest and prettiest town in the world; but when he rattled along the wide and magnificent streets of the capital of the north, he found ample reason to alter his opinion. here was no smoke--here was a sun shining down from a sky of cerulean hue, and here were houses built apparently of the costliest and whitest of marble. on went the dog-cart, and the closely-built streets gave place to avenues and terraces, and rows of palatial buildings peeping up through the greenery of trees. "harry was a little tired that night before he reached the good farm of dunryan; but his aunt and cousins were kindness itself, and after a bigger and nicer supper than ever he had eaten before in his life, he was shown to his snow-white couch, and the next thing he became conscious of was that the sun was shining broad and clearly into his chamber, and there was a perfect babel of sounds right down under his window, sounds that a country boy would easily have understood, but which were worse than greek to harry. he soon jumped out of bed, however, washed and dressed, and then opened the casement and looked down. i have already told you that harry's eyes were large, but the sight he now witnessed made him open them considerably wider than he had done for many a day. a vast courtyard crowded with feathered bipeds of every kind that could be imagined. harry hurried on with his toilet, so that he might be able to go downstairs and examine them more closely. "everybody was glad to see him, but he had to eat his breakfast all alone nevertheless, for his cousins had been up and had theirs hours and hours before. one of his relatives was a pretty little auburn-haired lass of some nine or ten summers, with blue, laughing eyes, and modest mien. she volunteered to show harry round the farm. but harry felt just a little afraid nevertheless, and considerably ashamed for being so, when he found himself in the great yard quite surrounded by hens and ducks and gobbling geese and turkeys. i think the animals themselves knew this, and did all they could to frighten him. the hens were content with cackling and grumbling, evidently trying to incite the cocks to acts of open hostility against our trembling hero. the cocks crew loudly at him, or defiantly approached him, looking as if they meant to imply that he owed it entirely to their generosity that his life was spared. the turkey-cocks put themselves into all sorts of queer shapes--tried to look like fretful porcupines, elevated the red rag that harry was astonished to see depending from their noses, and made terrible noises at him. the ducks were content with standing on tiptoe, clapping their snow-white wings, and crying, `what! what! what!' at the top of their voices. the peahens were merely curious and impertinent; but the geese were alarmingly intrusive. they stretched out their necks to the longest extent, approached him thus, and gave vent to hissings unutterable by any other creature than a goose. "`they won't bite or anything, will they?' faltered our hero, feeling very small indeed. "but his little companion only laughed right merrily. then taking harry's hand, she ran him off to show him more wonders--great horses that looked to the london boy as big as elephants; enormous oxen as big as rhinoceroses; donkeys that looked wiser than he could have believed it possible for a donkey to look; and goats that looked simply mischievous and nothing else. what a blessing it was for harry that he had such a wise little guardian and mentor as his cousin lizzie. she went everywhere with him, and explained away all his doubts and difficulties. ay, and she chaffed him not a little either, and laughed at all his queer mistakes; but i think she pitied him a good deal at the same time. `poor boy,' lizzie used to think to herself, `he has never been out of london before. what can he know?' "little lizzie had the same kind pity on harry's physical weakness as she had for his mental. her cousin couldn't climb the broom-clad hills as she could--not at first, at all events; but after one month's stay in this wild, free country, new life and spirit seemed to be instilled into him. he could climb hills now fast enough; and he was never tired wandering in the dark pine forests, or over the mountains that were now bedecked in the glorious purple of the heather's bloom. "harry's uncle gave him many a bit of good advice, which went far to dispel both his doubts and fears, and that means his ignorance; for only the very ignorant dare to doubt what they cannot understand. `there are more things in heaven and earth,' said his uncle one day, `than we have dreamed of in our philosophy. what would you think of my honest dog there if he told you the electric telegraph was an impossibility, simply because _he_ couldn't understand it? have faith, boy, have faith.' "but would it be believed that this boy, this london boy, didn't know where chickens came from? he really didn't. very little things sometimes form the turning-point in the history of great men, and lead them to a better train of thought. for remember that our mighty rivers that bear great navies to the ocean, like mighty thoughts, have very small beginnings. "harry observed a hen one day in a very great blaze of excitement. her chickens were hatching. one after another they were popping out of the shell, and going directly to seek for food. one little fellow, who had just come out, was clapping his wings and stretching himself as coolly as if he had just come by train, and was glad the journey was over. this was all very wonderful to harry; it led him to think; the thought led to wisdom and faith. "harry took a long walk that day in his favourite pine forest, and for the first time in his life, it struck him that every creature he saw there had some avocation; flies, beetles, and birds, all were working. says harry to himself, `i, too, will be industrious. i may yet be something in this great world, in which i am now convinced everything is well ordained.' "he kept that resolve firmly, unflinchingly; he is, while i write, one of the wealthiest merchants in london city; he is happy enough in this world, and has something in his breast which enables him to look beyond." ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "now one other," said ida; "i know you have lots of pretty tales in that old portfolio." "well," i said, smiling, "here goes; and then you'll sleep." ------------------------------------------------------------------------ king john; or, the tale of a tub. "king john, he called himself, but every human being about the farm of buttercup hill called him jock--simply that, and nothing else. but jock, or king john, there was one thing that nobody could deny--he was not only the chief among all the other fowls around him, but he thought himself a very important and a very exalted bird indeed; and no wonder that he clapped his wings and crowed defiance at any one who chanced to take particular notice of him, or that he asked in defiant tones, `kok _aik_ uk uk?' with strong emphasis on the `_aik_,' and which in english means, `how dare you stand and stare at _me_?' "king john's tail was a mass of nodding plumage of the darkest purple, his wattles and comb were of the rosiest red, his wings and neck were crimson and gold, and his batonlike legs were armed with spurs as long as one's little finger, and stronger and sharper than polished steel. had you dared to go too near any one of his feathered companions--that is, those whom he cared about--you would have repented it the very next minute, and king john's spurs would have been brought into play. but jock wouldn't have objected to your admiring them, so long as you kept at a respectable distance, on the other side of the fence, for instance. and pretty fowls they were--most of them young too--golden-pencilled hamburgs, sprightly spaniards, and sedate-looking dorkings, to say nothing of two ancient grand hens of no particular breed at all, but who, being extremely fat and imposing in appearance, were admitted to the high honour of roosting every night one on each side of the king, and were moreover taken into consultation by him, in every matter likely to affect the interests of his dynasty, or the welfare of the junior members of the farmyard. "now jock was deeply impressed with the dignity of the office he held. he was a very proud king--though, to his credit be it said, he was also a very good king. and never since he had first mounted his throne--an old water-tub, by the way--and sounded his shrill clarion, shouting a challenge to every cock or king within hearing--never, i say, had he been known to fill his own crop of a morning until the crops of all the hens about him were well packed with all good comestibles. such then was jock, such was king john. but, mind you, this gallant bird had not been a king all his life. no, and neither had he been born a prince. there was a mystery about his real origin and species. judging from the colour of the egg from which he was hatched, jock _ought_ to have been a cochin. but jock was nothing of the sort, as one glance at our picture will be sufficient to convince you. but i think it highly probable that the egg in question was stained by some unprincipled person, to cause it to look like that of the favourite cochin. be that as it may, jock was duly hatched, and in course of time was fully fledged, and one day attempted to crow, for which little performance he was not only pecked on the back by the two fat old hens, but chased all round the yard by king cockeroo, who was then lord and master of the farmyard. when he grew a little older he used to betake himself to places remote from observance, and study the song of chanticleer. but the older he grew the prettier he grew, and the prettier he grew the more king cockeroo seemed to dislike him; indeed, he thrashed him every morning and every evening, and at odd times during the day, so that at last jock's life became most unbearable. one morning, however, when glancing downwards at his legs, he observed that his spurs had grown long and strong and sharp, and after this he determined to throw off for ever the yoke of allegiance to cruel king cockeroo; he resolved to try the fortune of war even, and if he lost the battle, he thought to himself he would be no worse off than before. "now on the following day young jock happened to find a nice large potato, and said he to himself, `hullo! i'm fortunate to-day; i'll have such a nice breakfast.' "`will you indeed?' cried a harsh voice quite close to his ear, and he found himself in the dread presence of king cockeroo, a very large yellow cochin china. `will you indeed?' repeated his majesty. `how dare _you_ attempt to eat a _whole_ potato. put it down at once and leave the yard.' "`i won't,' cried the little cock, quite bravely. "`then i'll make you,' roared the big one. "`then i shan't,' was the bold reply. "now, like all bullies, king cockeroo was a coward at heart, so the battle that followed was of short duration, but very decisive for all that, and in less than five minutes king cockeroo was flying in confusion before his young but victorious enemy. "when he had left the yard, the long-persecuted but now triumphant jock mounted his throne--the afore-mentioned water-butt--and crew and crew and crew, until he was so hoarse that he couldn't crow any longer; then he jumped down and received the congratulations of all the inhabitants of the farmyard. and that is how jock became king john. "the poor deposed monarch never afterwards dared to come near the yard, in which he had at one time reigned so happily. he slept no longer on his old roost, but was fain to perch all alone on the edge of the garden barrow in the tool-house. he found no pleasure now in his sad and sorrowful life, except in eating; and having no one to share his meals with him, he began to get lazy and fat, and every day he got lazier and fatter, till at last it was all he could do to move about with anything like comfort. when he wanted to relieve his mind by crowing, he had to waddle away to a safe distance from the yard, or else king john would have flown upon him and pecked him most cruelly. "and now those very fowls, who once thought so much of him, used to laugh when they heard him crowing, and remark to young king john-- "`just listen to that asthmatical old silly,' for his articulation was not so distinct as it formerly was. "`kurr-r-r!' the new king would reply, `he'd better keep at a respectable distance, or cock-a-ro-ri-ko! i'll--i'll eat him entirely up!' "`i think,' said the farmer of buttercup hill one day to his wife--`i think we'd better have t'ould cock for our sunday's dinner.' "`won't he be a bit tough?' his good wife replied. "`maybe, my dear,' said the farmer, `but fine and fat, and plenty of him, at any rate.' "poor cockeroo, what a fall was his! and oh! the sad irony of fate, for on the very morning of this deposed monarch's execution, the sun was shining, the birds singing, the corn springing up and looking so green and bonny; and probably the last thing he heard in life was king john crowing, as he proudly perched himself on the edge of his water-tub throne. one could almost afford to drop a tear of pity for the dead king cockeroo, were it possible to forget that, while in life and in power, he had been both a bully and a coward. "but bad as bullying and cowardice are, there are other faults in many beings which, if not eradicated, are apt to lead the possessors thereof to a bad end. i have nothing to say against ambition, so long as it is lawful and kept within due bounds, but pride is a bad trait in the character of even old or young; and if you listen i will tell you how this failing brought even brave and gallant king john to an untimely end. "after the death of king cockeroo the pride of jack knew no bounds. his greatest enemy was gone, and there was not--so he thought--another cock in creation who would dare to face him; for did they not all prefer crowing at a distance, and did he not always answer them day or night, and defy them? his bearing towards the other fowls began to change. he still collected food for the hens, it is true, but he no longer tried to coax them to eat it. they would doubtless, he said, partake of it if they were hungry, and if they were not hungry, why, they could simply leave it. "jack had never had much respect for human beings--_they_! poor helpless things, had no wings to clap, and they couldn't crow; _they_ had no pretty plumage of their own, but were fain to clothe themselves in sheep's raiment or the cocoons of caterpillars; and _now_ he wholly despised them, and showed it too, for he spurred the legs of gosling the ploughboy, and rent into ribbons the new dress of mary the milkmaid, because she had invaded his territory in search of eggs. even the death of the two favourite hens i have told you of, which took place somewhat suddenly one saturday morning, failed to sober him or tone down his rampant pride. he installed two other very fat hens in their place on the perch, and then crowed more loudly than ever. "he spent much of his time now on his old throne; for it was always well filled with water, which served the purpose of a looking-glass, and reflected his gay and sprightly person, his rosy comb, and his nodding plumes. he would sometimes invite a favourite fowl to share the honours of his throne with him, but i really believe it was merely that its plainer reflection might make his own beautiful image the more apparent. "`oh!' he would cry, `don't i look lovely, and don't you look dowdy beside _me_? kurr! kurr-r-r! am i not perfection itself?' "of course no one of the fowls in the yard dared to contradict him or gainsay a word he spoke, but still i doubt whether they believed him to be altogether such a very exalted personage as he tried to make himself out. "and now my little tale draws speedily to its dark, but not, i trust, uninstructive close. "the sun rose among clouds of brightest crimson one lovely summer's morning, and his beams flooded all the beautiful country, making every creature and everything glad, birds and beasts, flowers and trees, and rippling streams. alas! how often in this world of ours is the sunrise in glory followed by a sunset in gloom. noon had hardly passed ere rock-shaped clouds began to bank up in the south and obscure the sun, the wind fell to a dead calm, and the stillness became oppressive; but it was broken at length by a loud peal of thunder, that seemed to rend the earth to its very foundations. then the sky grew darker and darker; and the darker it grew, the more vividly the lightning flashed, the more loudly pealed the thunder. then the rain came down, such rain as neither the good farmer of buttercup hill nor his wife ever remembered seeing before. king john was fain to seek shelter for himself and his companions under the garden seat, but even there they were drenched, and a very miserable sight they presented. "`oh i what a terrible storm!' cried a wise old hen. "`who is afraid?' said the proud king john, stepping out into the midst of it. `behold my throne; it shall never be moved.' "dread omen! at that very moment a hoop suddenly sprang up with a loud bang, the staves began to separate, and the water came pouring out between them, deluging all the place, and well-nigh drowning one of the two hens which had bravely tried to share jock's peril with him! "`kur-r-r!' cried the king, astonishment and rage depicted on every lineament of his countenance. `kurr! kurr! what trickery is this? but, behold, i have but to mount my throne and crow, and at once the thunder and the rain will cease, and the sun will shine again!' "he suited the action to the word, but, alas! the sun never shone again for him. his additional weight completed the mischief, and the tottering throne gave way with a crash. "there was woe in the farmyard that day, for under the ruins of his throne lay the lifeless body of jock--the once proud, the once mighty king john." "oh!" cried ida, "but that is _too_ short. pray, just one little one more, then i will sleep. you shall play me to sleep. let it be about a dog," she continued. "you can always tell a story about a dog." i looked once more into the old portfolio, and found this-- ------------------------------------------------------------------------ sindbad; or, the dog of penellan. "unless you go far, very far north indeed, you will hardly find a more primitive place than the little village of penellan, which nestles quite close to the sea on the southern coast of cornwall. i say it _nestles_, and so it does, and nice and cosy it looks down there, in a kind of glen, with green hills rising on either side of it, with its pebbly beach and the ever-sounding sea in front of it. "it was at widow webber's hostelry that there arrived, many years ago, the hero, or rather heroes, of this short tale. spring was coming in, the gardens were already gay with flowers, and the roses that trailed around the windows and porches of the pilchard fishermen's huts were all in bud, and promised soon to show a wealth of bloom. "now, not only widow webber herself, but the whole village, were on tiptoe to find out who the two strangers were and what could possibly be their reason for coming to such a little outlying place--fifteen miles, mind you, from the nearest railway town. it appeared they were not likely soon to be satisfied, for the human stranger--the other was his beautiful newfoundland retriever, `sindbad'--simply took the widow's best room for three months, and in less than a week he seemed to have settled down as entirely in the place, as though he had been born there, and had never been out of it. the most curious part of the business was that he never told his name, and he never even received a letter or a visitor. he walked about much out of doors, and over the hills, and he hired a boat by the month, and used to go long cruises among the rocks, at times not returning until sun was set, and the bright stars twinkling in the sky. he sketched a great deal, too--made pictures, the pilchard fishermen called it. was he an artist? perhaps. "the `gentleman,' as he was always called, had a kind word and a pleasant smile, for every one, and his dog sindbad was a universal favourite with the village children. how they laughed to see him go splashing into the water! and the wilder the sea, and the bigger the waves, the more the dog seemed to enjoy the fun. "being so quiet and neighbourly, it might have been thought that the gentleman would have been as much a favourite with the grown-up people as sindbad was with the young folk. alas! for the charity of this world, he was not so at first. where, they wondered, did he come from? why didn't he give his name, and tell his story? it couldn't possibly be all right, they felt sure of that. "but when the summer wore away, and winter came round, and those policemen, whom they fully expected to one day take the gentleman away, never came, and when the gentleman seemed more a fixture than ever, they began to soften down, and to treat him as quite one of themselves. sindbad had been one of them for a very long time, ever since he had pulled the baker's little polly out of the sea when she fell over a rock, and would assuredly have been drowned except for the gallant dog's timely aid. "so they were content at last to take the gentleman just as they had him. "`concerts!' cried widow webber one evening, in reply to a remark made by the stranger. `why, sir, concerts in our little village! whoever will sing?' "but the stranger only laid down his book with a quiet smile, and asked the widow to take a seat near the fire, and he would tell her all about it. "with honest sindbad asleep on the hearthrug, and pussy singing beside him, and the kettle singing too, and a bright fire in the grate, the room looked quite cosy and snug-like. so the poor widow sat down, and the stranger unfolded all his plans. "and it all fell out just as the stranger wished it. he was an accomplished pianist, and also a good performer on the violin. and he had good-humour and tact, and the way he kept his class together, and drew them out, and made them all feel contented with their efforts and happy, was perfectly wonderful. the first concert was a grand success, a crowded house, though the front seats were only sixpence and the back twopence. and all the proceeds were handed over to the clergyman to buy books and magazines. "so the winter passed more quickly and cheerfully than any one ever remembered a winter to pass before, and summer came once more. "it would need volumes, not pages, to tell of all poor sindbad's clever ways. indeed, he became quite the village dog; he would go errands for any one, and always went to the right shop with his basket. every morning, with a penny in his mouth, he went trotting away to the carrier's and bought a paper for his master; after that he was free to romp and play all the livelong day with the children on the beach. it might be said of sindbad as professor wilson said of his beautiful dog--`_not_ a child of three years old and upwards in the neighbourhood that had not hung by his mane and played with his paws, and been affectionately worried by him on the flowery greensward.' "another winter went by quite as cheerily as the last, and the stranger was by this time as much a favourite as his dog. the villagers had found out now that he was not by any means a rich man, although he had enough to live on; but they liked him none the less for that. "the easter moon was full, and even on the wane, for it did not, at the time i refer to, rise till late in the evening. a gale had been blowing all day, the sea was mountains high, for the wind roared wildly from off the broad atlantic. one hundred years ago, if the truth must be told, the villagers of penellan would have welcomed such a gale; it might bring them wealth. they had been wreckers. "every one was about retiring for rest, when boom boom! from out of the darkness seaward came the roar of a minute gun. some great ship was on the rocks not far off. boom! and no assistance could be given. there was no rocket, no lifeboat, and no ordinary boat could live in that sea. boom! everybody was down on the beach, and ere long the great red moon rose and showed, as had been expected, the dark hull of a ship fast on the rocks, with her masts gone by the board, and the sea making a clean breach over her. the villagers were brave; they attempted to launch a boat. it was staved, and dashed back on the beach. "`come round to the point, men,' cried the stranger. `i will send sindbad with a line.' "the point was a rocky promontory almost to windward of the stranded vessel. "the mariners on board saw the fire lighted there, and they saw that preparations of some kind were being made to save them, and at last they discerned some dark object rising and falling on the waves, but steadily approaching them. it was sindbad; the piece of wood he bore in his mouth had attached to it a thin line. "for a long time--it seemed ages to those poor sailors--the dog struggled on and on towards them. and now he is alongside. "`good dog!' they cry, and a sailor is lowered to catch the morsel of wood. he does so, and tries hard to catch the dog as well. but sindbad has now done his duty, and prepares to swim back. "poor faithful, foolish fellow! if he had but allowed the sea to carry him towards the distant beach. but no; he must battle against it with the firelight as his beacon. "and in battling _he died_. "but communication was effected by sindbad betwixt the ship and the shore, and all on board were landed safely. "need i tell of the grief of that dog's master? need i speak of the sorrow of the villagers? no; but if you go to penellan, if you inquire about sindbad, children even yet will show you his grave, in a green nook near the beach, where the crimson sea-pinks bloom. "and older folk will point you out `the gentleman's grave' in the old churchyard. he did not _very_ long survive sindbad. "the grey-bearded old pilchard fisherman who showed it to me only two summers ago, when i was there, said-- "`ay, sir! there he do lie, and the sod never hid a warmer heart than his. the lifeboat, sir? yes, sir, it's down yonder; his money bought it. there is more than me, sir, has shed a tear over him. you see, we weren't charitable to him at first. ah, sir! what a blessed thing charity do be!'" chapter thirty three. a short, because a sad one. "why do summer roses fade, if not to show how fleeting all things bright and fair are made, to bloom awhile as half afraid to join our summer greeting?" "now," said frank one evening to me, "a little change is all that is needed to make the child as well again as ever she was in her life." "i think you are right, frank," was my reply; "change will do it--a few weeks' residence in a bracing atmosphere; and it would do us all good too; for of course you would be of the party, frank?" "i'll go with you like a shot," said this honest-hearted, blunt old sailor. "what say you, then, to the highlands?" "just the thing," replied frank. "just the place-- "`my heart's in the hielans. my heart is not here; my heart's in the hielans, chasing the deer; chasing the wild deer and following the roe-- my heart's in the hielans, wherever i go.'" "bravo! frank," i cried; "now let us consider the matter as practically settled. and let us go in for division of labour in the matter of preparation for this journey due north. you two old folks shall do the packing and all that sort of thing, and ida and i will--get the tickets." and, truth to tell, that is really all ida and myself did do; but we knew we were in good hands, and a better caterer for comfort on a journey, or a better baggage-master than frank never lived. he got an immense double kennel built for aileen and nero; all the other pets were left at home under good surveillance, not even a cat being forgotten. this kennel, when the dogs were in it, took four good men and true to lift it, and the doing so was as good as a turkish bath to each of them. we had a compartment all to our four selves, and as we travelled by night, and made a friend of the burly, brown-bearded guard, the dogs had water several times during the journey, and we human folks were never once disturbed until we found ourselves in what walter scott calls-- "my own romantic town." a week spent in edinburgh in the sweet summer-time is something to dream about ever after. we saw everything that was to be seen, from the castle itself to greyfriars' bobby's monument, and the quiet corner in which he sleeps. then onward we went to beautiful and romantic perth. then on to callander and doune. at the latter place we visited the romantic ruin called doune castle, where my old favourite tyro is buried. in perthshire we spent several days, and once had the good or bad fortune to get storm-stayed at a little wayside hotel or hostelry, where we had stopped to dine. the place seemed a long way from anywhere. i'm not sure that it wasn't at the back of the north wind; at all events, there was neither cab nor conveyance to be had for love nor money, and a scotch mist prevailed--that is, the rain came down in streams as solid and thick as wooden penholders. so we determined to make the best of matters and stay all night; the little place was as clean as clean could be, and the landlady, in mutch of spotless white, was delighted at the prospect of having us. she heaped the wood on the hearth as the evening glome began to descend; the bright flames leapt up and cast great shadows on the wall behind us, and we all gathered round the fire, the all including nero and aileen; the circle would not have been complete without them. no, thank you, we told the landlady, we wouldn't have candles; it was ever so much cosier by the light of the fire. but, by-and-by, we would have tea. despite the scotch mist, we spent a very happy evening. ida was more than herself in mirth and merriment; her bright and joyous face was a treat to behold. she sang some little simple highland song to us that we never knew she had learned; she said she had picked it up on purpose; and then she called on frank to "contribute to the harmony of the evening"--a phrase she had learned from the old tar himself. "me!" said frank; "bless you, you would all run out if i began to sing." but we promised to sit still, whatever might happen, and then we got the "bay of biscay" out of him, and he gave it that genuine, true sea-ring and rhythm, that no landsman, in my opinion, can imitate. as he sang, in fact, you could positively imagine you were on the deck of that storm-tossed ship, with her tattered canvas fluttering idly in the breeze, her wave-riddled bulwarks, and wet and slippery decks. you could see the shivering sailors clinging to shroud or stay as the green seas thundered over the decks; you could hear the wind roaring in the rigging, and the hissing boom of the breaking waters, all about and around you. he stopped at last, laughing, and-- "now, gordon, it is your turn at the wheel," he said. "you must either sing or tell a story." "my dear old sailor man," i replied, "i will sing all the evening if you don't ask me to tell a story." "but," cried ida, shaking a merry forefinger at me, "you've got to do _both_, dear." there were more stories than mine told that night by the "ingleside" of that highland cot, for frank himself must "open out" at last, and many a strange adventure he told us, some of them humorous enough, others pathetic in the extreme. frank was not a bad hand at "spinning a yarn," as he called it, only he was like a witness in a box of justice: he required a good deal of drawing out, and no small amount of encouragement in the shape of honest smiles and laughter. like all sailors, he was shy. "there's where you have me," frank would say. "i am shy; there's no getting over it; and no getting out of it but when i know i'm amusing you, then i could go on as long as you like." i have pleasing reminiscences of that evening. as i sit here at my table, i have but to pause for a moment, put my hands across my eyes, and the rembrandt picture comes up again in every feature. yonder sits frank, with his round, rosy face, looking still more round and rosy by the peat-light. yonder, side by side, with their great heads pointing towards the blaze, lie the "twa dogs," and ida crouched beside them, her fair face held upwards, and all a-gleam with happiness and joy. when lights were brought at last, it was plain that the honest old landlady, bustling in with the tea-things, had dressed for the occasion, and from the pleased expression on her face i felt sure she had been listening somewhere in the gloom behind us. the cottage where we went at last to reside in the remote highlands was a combination of comfort and rusticity, and ida especially was delighted with everything, more particularly with her own little room, half bedroom, half boudoir, and the rustic flowers which old mrs mcf-- brought every day were in her eyes gems of matchless beauty. then everything out of doors was so new to her, and so beautiful and grand withal, that we did not wonder at her being happy and pleased. "when i roved a young highlander o'er the dark heath--" so sings byron. well, _he_ had some kind of training to this species of progression. ida had none. _she_ was a young highlander from the very first day, and a bold and adventuresome one too. nor torrent, cataract, nor cliff feared she. and no bird, beast, or butterfly was afraid of ida. her chief companion was a matchless deerhound, whom we called ossian. sometimes, when we were all seated together among the heather, ossian used to put his enormous head on her lap and gaze into her face for minutes at a time. i've often thought of this since. nero, i think, was a little piqued and jealous when ossian went bounding, deer-like, from rock to rock. ah! but when we came to the lake's side, then it was ossian's turn to be jealous, for in the days of his youth he had neglected the art of swimming, in which many of his breed excel. two months of this happy and idyllic life, then fell the shadow and the gloom. there was nothing romantic about ida's illness and death. she suffered but little pain, and bore that little with patience. she just faded away, as it were; the young life went quietly out, the young barque glided peacefully into the ocean of eternity. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ poor frank had an accident in the same year, and ere the winter was over succumbed to his injuries. he died on such a night as one seldom sees in england. the bravest man dared not face that terrible snowstorm unless he courted death. therefore i could not be with frank at the end. the generous reader will easily understand why i say no more than these few words about my dear friend's death. alas! how few true friends there are in this world, and it seems but yesterday he was with us, seems but yesterday that i looked into his honest, smiling face, as i bade him good-bye at my garden gate. chapter thirty four. the last. "once more farewell! once more, my friends, farewell!" coleridge. i have never mentioned frank's dog, this for the simple reason that i hope one day ere long to write a short memoir of her. meggie was a collie, a highland collie, and a very beautiful one too. so much for her appearance. as for her moral qualities, it is sufficient to say that she was frank's dog--and i myself never yet saw the dog that did not borrow some of the mental qualities of the master, whose constant companion he was, especially if that master made much of him. frank loved his dog, and she loved but him. she _liked_ but few. _we_ were among the number of those she liked, but, strange creature that she was, she was barely civil to any one else in the world. she had one action which i never saw any other dog have, but it might have been taught her by frank himself. she used to stand with her two paws on his knees, and lean her head sideways, or ear downwards, against his breast, just like a child who is being fondled, and thus she would remain for half an hour at a time, if not disturbed. when my friend was ill in bed, poor loving meggie would put her paws on the edge of it, and lay her head sideways on his breast, and thus remain for an hour. what a comfort this simple act of devotedness was to frank! when frank died, meggie fell into the best of hands, that of a lady who had a very great regard for her, and so was happy; but i know she never forgot her master. she died only a few months ago. her owner--she, may i say, who held her in trust--brought her over for me to look at one afternoon. i prescribed some gentle medicine for her, but told miss w--she could only nurse her, that her illness was very serious. meggie's breath came very short and fast, and there was a pinched and anxious look about her face that spoke volumes to me. so when miss w--was in the house i took the opportunity of going back to the carriage, and patting frank's dog's head and whispering, "good-bye." i cannot help confessing here, although many of my readers may have guessed it before, that i believe in immortality for the creatures, we are only too fond of calling "the lower animals." i have many great-souled men on my side in the matter of this belief, but if i stood alone therein, i would still hold fast thereto. i have one firm supporter, at all events, in the person of my friend, the rev j.g. wood [note ]. nay, but my kindly poet tupper, whose face i have never seen, but whose verses have given me many times and oft so much of real pleasure, have i not another supporter in you? aileen aroon left us at last, dying of the fatal complaint that had so long lain dormant in her blood. we had hopes of her recovery from the attack that carried her off until the very end. she herself was as patient as a lamb, and her gratitude was invariably expressed in her looks. there are those reading these lines who may ask me why i did not forestall the inevitable. might it not have been more merciful to have done so? these must seek for answer to such questions in my other books, or ask them of any one who has ever _loved_ a faithful dog, and fully appreciated his fidelity, his affection, and his almost human amount of wisdom and sagacity. the american indians did use to adopt this method of forestalling the inevitable; in fact, they slew their nearest and dearest when they got old and feeble. let who will follow their example, i could not _if the animal had loved me and been my friend_. theodore nero lived for years afterwards, but i do not think he ever forgot aileen aroon--poor simple sable. i buried her in the garden, in a flower border close to the lawn, and i did not know until the grave was filled in that nero had been watching the movements of my man and myself. a fortnight after this i went to her grave to plant a rosebush there, nero following; but when he saw me commencing to dig, a change that i had never seen the like of before passed over his face; it was wonder, blended with joy. he thought that i was about to bring her back to life and him. in his last illness, poor nero's mattress and pillow were placed in a comfortable warm room. he seldom complained, though suffering at times; and whenever he did, either myself or my wife went and sat by him, and he was instantly content. i had ridden down with the evening letters, and was back by nine o'clock. it was a night in bleak december, 'twixt christmas and the new year. when i went to the poor patient's room i could see he was just going, and knelt beside him, after calling my wife. in the last short struggle he lifted his head, as if looking for some one. his eyes were turned towards me, though he could not see; and then his head dropped on my knee, and he was gone. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ down at the foot of our bird-haunted lawn, in a little grassy nook, where the nightingales are now singing at night, where the rhododendrons bloom, and the starry-petalled syringas perfume the air, is nero's grave--a little grassy mound, where the children always put flowers, and near it a broken, rough, wooden pillar, on which hangs a life-buoy, with the words--"theodore nero. faithful to the end." ------------------------------------------------------------------------ note . author of "man and beast." two volumes. messrs. daldy and isbister. facing the flag by jules verne [redactor's note: _facing the flag_ {number v in the t&m listing of verne's works} is an anonymous translation of _face au drapeau_ ( ) first published in the u.s. by f. tennyson neely in , and later (circa ) republished from the same plates by hurst and f.m. lupton (federal book co.). this is a different translation from the one published by sampson & low in england entitled _for the flag_ ( ) translated by mrs. cashel hoey.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ facing the flag by j u l e s v e r n e author of "around the world in eighty days"; "twenty thousand leagues under the sea"; "from the earth to the moon," etc. new york the f. m. lupton publishing company publishers ------------------------------------------------------------------------ ------------------------------------------------------------------------ contents chap i. healthful house ii. count d'artigas iii. kidnapped iv. the schooner "ebba" v. where am i.--(notes by simon hart, the engineer.) vi. on deck vii. two days at sea viii. back cup ix. inside back cup x. ker karraje xi. five weeks in back cup xii. engineer serko's advice xiii. god be with it xiv. battle between the "sword" and the tug xv. expectation xvi. only a few more hours xvii. one against five xviii. on board the "tonnant" ------------------------------------------------------------------------ facing the flag. chapter i. healthful house. the _carte de visite_ received that day, june , -, by the director of the establishment of healthful house was a very neat one, and simply bore, without escutcheon or coronet, the name: count d'artigas. below this name, in a corner of the card, the following address was written in lead pencil: "on board the schooner _ebba_, anchored off new-berne, pamlico sound." the capital of north carolina--one of the forty-four states of the union at this epoch--is the rather important town of raleigh, which is about one hundred and fifty miles in the interior of the province. it is owing to its central position that this city has become the seat of the state legislature, for there are others that equal and even surpass it in industrial and commercial importance, such as wilmington, charlotte, fayetteville, edenton, washington, salisbury, tarborough, halifax, and new-berne. the latter town is situated on estuary of the neuse river, which empties itself into pamlico sound, a sort of vast maritime lake protected by a natural dyke formed by the isles and islets of the carolina coast. the director of healthful house could never have imagined why the card should have been sent to him, had it not been accompanied by a note from the count d'artigas soliciting permission to visit the establishment. the personage in question hoped that the director would grant his request, and announced that he would present himself in the afternoon, accompanied by captain spade, commander of the schooner _ebba_. this desire to penetrate to the interior of the celebrated sanitarium, then in great request by the wealthy invalids of the united states, was natural enough on the part of a foreigner. others who did not bear such a high-sounding name as the count d'artigas had visited it, and had been unstinting in their compliments to the director. the latter therefore hastened to accord the authorization demanded, and added that he would be honored to open the doors of the establishment to the count d'artigas. healthful house, which contained a select _personnel_, and was assured of the co-operation of the most celebrated doctors in the country, was a private enterprise. independent of hospitals and almshouses, but subjected to the surveillance of the state, it comprised all the conditions of comfort and salubrity essential to establishments of this description designed to receive an opulent _clientele_. it would have been difficult to find a more agreeable situation than that of healthful house. on the landward slope of a hill extended a park of two hundred acres planted with the magnificent vegetation that grows so luxuriantly in that part of north america, which is equal in latitude to the canary and madeira islands. at the furthermost limit of the park lay the wide estuary of the neuse, swept by the cool breezes of pamlico sound and by the winds that blew from the ocean beyond the narrow _lido_ of the coast. healthful house, where rich invalids were cared for under such excellent hygienic conditions, was more generally reserved for the treatment of chronic complaints; but the management did not decline to admit patients affected by mental troubles, when the latter were not of an incurable nature. it thus happened--a circumstance that was bound to attract a good deal of attention to healthful house, and which perhaps was the motive for the visit of the count d'artigas--that a person of world-wide notoriety had for eighteen months been under special observation there. this person was a frenchman named thomas roch, forty-five years of age. he was, beyond question, suffering from some mental malady, but expert alienists admitted that he had not entirely lost the use of his reasoning faculties. it was only too evident that he had lost all notion of things as far as the ordinary acts of life were concerned; but in regard to subjects demanding the exercise of his genius, his sanity was unimpaired and unassailable--a fact which demonstrates how true is the _dictum_ that genius and madness are often closely allied! otherwise his condition manifested itself by complete loss of memory;--the impossibility of concentrating his attention upon anything, lack of judgment, delirium and incoherence. he no longer even possessed the natural animal instinct of self-preservation, and had to be watched like an infant whom one never permits out of one's sight. therefore a warder was detailed to keep close watch over him by day and by night in pavilion no. , at the end of healthful house park, which had been specially set apart for him. ordinary insanity, when it is not incurable, can only be cured by moral means. medicine and therapeutics are powerless, and their inefficacy has long been recognized by specialists. were these moral means applicable to the case of thomas roch? one may be permitted to doubt it, even amid the tranquil and salubrious surroundings of healthful house. as a matter of fact the very symptoms of uneasiness, changes of temper, irritability, queer traits of character, melancholy, apathy, and a repugnance for serious occupations were distinctly apparent; no treatment seemed capable of curing or even alleviating these symptoms. this was patent to all his medical attendants. it has been justly remarked that madness is an excess of subjectivity; that is to say, a state in which the mind accords too much to mental labor and not enough to outward impressions. in the case of thomas roch this indifference was practically absolute. he lived but within himself, so to speak, a prey to a fixed idea which had brought him to the condition in which we find him. could any circumstance occur to counteract it--to "exteriorize" him, as it were? the thing was improbable, but it was not impossible. it is now necessary to explain how this frenchman came to quit france, what motive attracted him to the united states, why the federal government had judged it prudent and necessary to intern him in this sanitarium, where every utterance that unconsciously escaped him during his crises were noted and recorded with the minutest care. eighteen months previously the secretary of the navy at washington, had received a demand for an audience in regard to a communication that thomas roch desired to make to him. as soon as he glanced at the name, the secretary perfectly understood the nature of the communication and the terms which would accompany it, and an immediate audience was unhesitatingly accorded. thomas roch's notoriety was indeed such that, out of solicitude for the interests confided to his keeping, and which he was bound to safeguard, he could not hesitate to receive the petitioner and listen to the proposals which the latter desired personally to submit to him. thomas roch was an inventor--an inventor of genius. several important discoveries had brought him prominently to the notice of the world. thanks to him, problems that had previously remained purely theoretical had received practical application. he occupied a conspicuous place in the front rank of the army of science. it will be seen how worry, deceptions, mortification, and the outrages with which he was overwhelmed by the cynical wits of the press combined to drive him to that degree of madness which necessitated his internment in healthful house. his latest invention in war-engines bore the name of roch's fulgurator. this apparatus possessed, if he was to be believed, such superiority over all others, that the state which acquired it would become absolute master of earth and ocean. the deplorable difficulties inventors encounter in connection with their inventions are only too well known, especially when they endeavor to get them adopted by governmental commissions. several of the most celebrated examples are still fresh in everybody's memory. it is useless to insist upon this point, because there are sometimes circumstances underlying affairs of this kind upon which it is difficult to obtain any light. in regard to thomas roch, however, it is only fair to say that, as in the case of the majority of his predecessors, his pretensions were excessive. he placed such an exorbitant price upon his new engine that it was practicably impossible to treat with him. this was due to the fact--and it should not be lost sight of--that in respect of previous inventions which had been most fruitful in result, he had been imposed upon with the greatest audacity. being unable to obtain therefrom the profits which he had a right to expect, his temper had become soured. he became suspicious, would give up nothing without knowing just what he was doing, impose conditions that were perhaps unacceptable, wanted his mere assertions accepted as sufficient guarantee, and in any case asked for such a large sum of money on account before condescending to furnish the test of practical experiment that his overtures could not be entertained. in the first place he had offered the fulgurator to france, and made known the nature of it to the commission appointed to pass upon his proposition. the fulgurator was a sort of auto-propulsive engine, of peculiar construction, charged with an explosive composed of new substances and which only produced its effect under the action of a deflagrator that was also new. when this engine, no matter in what way it was launched, exploded, not on striking the object aimed at, but several hundred yards from it, its action upon the atmospheric strata was so terrific that any construction, warship or floating battery, within a zone of twelve thousand square yards, would be blown to atoms. this was the principle of the shell launched by the zalinski pneumatic gun with which experiments had already been made at that epoch, but its results were multiplied at least a hundred-fold. if, therefore, thomas roch's invention possessed this power, it assured the offensive and defensive superiority of his native country. but might not the inventor be exaggerating, notwithstanding that the tests of other engines he had conceived had proved incontestably that they were all he had claimed them to be? this, experiment could alone show, and it was precisely here where the rub came in. roch would not agree to experiment until the millions at which he valued his fulgurator had first been paid to him. it is certain that a sort of disequilibrium had then occurred in his mental faculties. it was felt that he was developing a condition of mind that would gradually lead to definite madness. no government could possibly condescend to treat with him under the conditions he imposed. the french commission was compelled to break off all negotiations with him, and the newspapers, even those of the radical opposition, had to admit that it was difficult to follow up the affair. in view of the excess of subjectivity which was unceasingly augmenting in the profoundly disturbed mind of thomas roch, no one will be surprised at the fact that the cord of patriotism gradually relaxed until it ceased to vibrate. for the honor of human nature be it said that thomas roch was by this time irresponsible for his actions. he preserved his whole consciousness only in so far as subjects bearing directly upon his invention were concerned. in this particular he had lost nothing of his mental power. but in all that related to the most ordinary details of existence his moral decrepitude increased daily and deprived him of complete responsibility for his acts. thomas roch's invention having been refused by the commission, steps ought to have been taken to prevent him from offering it elsewhere. nothing of the kind was done, and there a great mistake was made. the inevitable was bound to happen, and it did. under a growing irritability the sentiment of patriotism, which is the very essence of the citizen--who before belonging to himself belongs to his country-- became extinct in the soul of the disappointed inventor. his thoughts turned towards other nations. he crossed the frontier, and forgetting the ineffaceable past, offered the fulgurator to germany. there, as soon as his exorbitant demands were made known, the government refused to receive his communication. besides, it so happened that the military authorities were just then absorbed by the construction of a new ballistic engine, and imagined they could afford to ignore that of the french inventor. as the result of this second rebuff roch's anger became coupled with hatred--an instinctive hatred of humanity--especially after his _pourparlers_ with the british admiralty came to naught. the english being practical people, did not at first repulse thomas roch. they sounded him and tried to get round him; but roch would listen to nothing. his secret was worth millions, and these millions he would have, or they would not have his secret. the admiralty at last declined to have anything more to do with him. it was in these conditions, when his intellectual trouble was growing daily worse, that he made a last effort by approaching the american government. that was about eighteen months before this story opens. the americans, being even more practical than the english, did not attempt to bargain for roch's fulgurator, to which, in view of the french chemist's reputation, they attached exceptional importance. they rightly esteemed him a man of genius, and took the measures justified by his condition, prepared to indemnify him equitably later. as thomas roch gave only too visible proofs of mental alienation, the administration, in the very interest of his invention, judged it prudent to sequestrate him. as is already known, he was not confined in a lunatic asylum, but was conveyed to healthful house, which offered every guarantee for the proper treatment of his malady. yet, though the most careful attention had been devoted to him, no improvement had manifested itself. thomas roch, let it be again remarked--this point cannot be too often insisted upon--incapable though he was of comprehending and performing the ordinary acts and duties of life, recovered all his powers when the field of his discoveries was touched upon. he became animated, and spoke with the assurance of a man who knows whereof he is descanting, and an authority that carried conviction with it. in the heat of his eloquence he would describe the marvellous qualities of his fulgurator and the truly extraordinary effects it caused. as to the nature of the explosive and of the deflagrator, the elements of which the latter was composed, their manufacture, and the way in which they were employed, he preserved complete silence, and all attempts to worm the secret out of him remained ineffectual. once or twice, during the height of the paroxysms to which he was occasionally subject, there had been reason to believe that his secret would escape him, and every precaution had been taken to note his slightest utterance. but thomas roch had each time disappointed his watchers. if he no longer preserved the sentiment of self-preservation, he at least knew how to preserve the secret of his discovery. pavilion no. was situated in the middle of a garden that was surrounded by hedges, and here roch was accustomed to take exercise under the surveillance of his guardian. this guardian lived in the same pavilion, slept in the same room with him, and kept constant watch upon him, never leaving him for an hour. he hung upon the lightest words uttered by the patient in the course of his hallucinations, which generally occurred in the intermediary state between sleeping and waking--watched and listened while he dreamed. this guardian was known as gaydon. shortly after the sequestration of thomas roch, having learned that an attendant speaking french fluently was wanted, he had applied at healthful house for the place, and had been engaged to look after the new inmate. in reality the alleged gaydon was a french engineer named simon hart, who for several years past had been connected with a manufactory of chemical products in new jersey. simon hart was forty years of age. his high forehead was furrowed with the wrinkle that denoted the thinker, and his resolute bearing denoted energy combined with tenacity. extremely well versed in the various questions relating to the perfecting of modern armaments, hart knew everything that had been invented in the shape of explosives, of which there were over eleven hundred at that time, and was fully able to appreciate such a man as thomas roch. he firmly believed in the power of the latter's fulgurator, and had no doubt whatever that the inventor had conceived an engine that was capable of revolutionizing the condition of both offensive and defensive warfare on land and sea. he was aware that the demon of insanity had respected the man of science, and that in roch's partially diseased brain the flame of genius still burned brightly. then it occurred to him that if, during roch's crises, his secret was revealed, this invention of a frenchman would be seized upon by some other country to the detriment of france. impelled by a spirit of patriotism, he made up his mind to offer himself as thomas roch's guardian, by passing himself off as an american thoroughly conversant with the french language, in order that if the inventor did at any time disclose his secret, france alone should benefit thereby. on pretext of returning to europe, he resigned his position at the new jersey manufactory, and changed his name so that none should know what had become of him. thus it came to pass that simon hart, alias gaydon, had been an attendant at healthful house for fifteen months. it required no little courage on the part of a man of his position and education to perform the menial and exacting duties of an insane man's attendant; but, as has been before remarked, he was actuated by a spirit of the purest and noblest patriotism. the idea of depriving roch of the legitimate benefits due to the inventor, if he succeeded in learning his secret, never for an instant entered his mind. he had kept the patient under the closest possible observation for fifteen months yet had not been able to learn anything from him, or worm out of him a single reply to his questions that was of the slightest value. but he had become more convinced than ever of the importance of thomas roch's discovery, and was extremely apprehensive lest the partial madness of the inventor should become general, or lest he should die during one of his paroxysms and carry his secret with him to the grave. this was simon hart's position, and this the mission to which he had wholly devoted himself in the interest of his native country. however, notwithstanding his deceptions and troubles, thomas roch's physical health, thanks to his vigorous constitution, was not particularly affected. a man of medium height, with a large head, high, wide forehead, strongly-cut features, iron-gray hair and moustache, eyes generally haggard, but which became piercing and imperious when illuminated by his dominant idea, thin lips closely compressed, as though to prevent the escape of a word that could betray his secret--such was the inventor confined in one of the pavilions of healthful house, probably unconscious of his sequestration, and confided to the surveillance of simon hart the engineer, become gaydon the warder. chapter ii. count d'artigas. just who was this count d'artigas? a spaniard? so his name would appear to indicate. yet on the stern of his schooner, in letters of gold, was the name _ebba_, which is of pure norwegian origin. and had you asked him the name of the captain of the _ebba_, he would have replied, spade, and would doubtless have added that that of the boatswain was effrondat, and that of the ship's cook, helim--all singularly dissimilar and indicating very different nationalities. could any plausible hypothesis be deducted from the type presented by count d'artigas? not easily. if the color of his skin, his black hair, and the easy grace of his attitude denoted a spanish origin, the _ensemble_ of his person showed none of the racial characteristics peculiar to the natives of the iberian peninsula. he was a man of about forty-five years of age, about the average height, and robustly constituted. with his calm and haughty demeanor he resembled an hindoo lord in whose blood might mingle that of some superb type of malay. if he was not naturally of a cold temperament, he at least, with his imperious gestures and brevity of speech, endeavored to make it appear that he was. as to the language usually spoken by him and his crew, it was one of those idioms current in the islands of the indian ocean and the adjacent seas. yet when his maritime excursions brought him to the coasts of the old or new world he spoke english with remarkable facility, and with so slight an accent as to scarcely betray his foreign origin. none could have told anything about his past, nor even about his present life, nor from what source he derived his fortune,--obviously a large one, inasmuch as he was able to gratify his every whim and lived in the greatest luxury whenever he visited america,--nor where he resided when at home, nor where was the port from which his schooner hailed, and none would have ventured to question him upon any of these points so little disposed was he to be communicative. he was not the kind of man to give anything away or compromise himself in the slightest degree, even when interviewed by american reporters. all that was known about him was what was published in the papers when the arrival of the _ebba_ was reported in some port, and particularly in the ports of the east coast of the united states, where the schooner was accustomed to put in at regular periods to lay in provisions and stores for a lengthy voyage. she would take on board not only flour, biscuits, preserves, fresh and dried meat, live stock, wines, beers, and spirits, but also clothing, household utensils, and objects of luxury--all of the finest quality and highest price, and which were paid for either in dollars, guineas, or other coins of various countries and denominations. consequently, if no one knew anything about the private life of count d'artigas, he was nevertheless very well known in the various ports of the united states from the florida peninsula to new england. it is therefore in no way surprising that the director of healthful house should have felt greatly flattered by the count's visit, and have received him with every mark of honor and respect. it was the first time that the schooner _ebba_ had dropped anchor in the port of new-berne, and no doubt a mere whim of her owner had brought him to the mouth of the neuse. otherwise why should he have come to such a place? certainly not to lay in stores, for pamlico sound offered neither the resources nor facilities to be found in such ports as boston, new york, dover, savannah, wilmington in north carolina, and charleston in south carolina. what could he have procured with his piastres and bank-notes in the small markets of new-berne? this chief town of craven county contained barely six thousand inhabitants. its commerce consisted principally in the exportation of grain, pigs, furniture, and naval munitions. besides, a few weeks previously, the schooner had loaded up for some destination which, as usual, was unknown. had this enigmatical personage then come solely for the purpose of visiting healthful house? very likely. there would have been nothing surprising in the fact, seeing that the establishment enjoyed a high and well-merited reputation. or perhaps the count had been inspired by curiosity to meet thomas roch? this curiosity would have been legitimate and natural enough in view of the universal renown of the french inventor. fancy--a mad genius who claimed that his discoveries were destined to revolutionize the methods of modern military art! as he had notified the director he would do, the count d'artigas presented himself in the afternoon at the door of healthful house, accompanied by captain spade, the commander of the _ebba_. in conformity with orders given, both were admitted and conducted to the office of the director. the latter received his distinguished visitor with _empressement_, placed himself at his disposal, and intimated his intention of personally conducting him over the establishment, not being willing to concede to anybody else the honor of being his _cicerone_. the count on his part was profuse in the expression of his thanks for the considerations extended to him. they went over the common rooms and private habitations of the establishment, the director prattling unceasingly about the care with which the patients were tended--much better care, if he was to be believed, than they could possibly have had in the bosoms of their families--and priding himself upon the results achieved, and which had earned for the place its well-merited success. the count d'artigas listened to his ceaseless chatter with apparent interest, probably in order the better to dissemble the real motive of his visit. however, after going the rounds for an hour he ventured to remark: "have you not among your patients, sir, one anent whom there was a great deal of talk some time ago, and whose presence here contributed in no small measure to attract public attention to healthful house?" "you refer to thomas roch, i presume, count?" queried the director. "precisely--that frenchman--that inventor--whose mental condition is said to be very precarious." "very precarious, count, and happily so, perhaps! in my opinion humanity has nothing to gain by his discoveries, the application of which would increase the already too numerous means of destruction." "you speak wisely, sir, and i entirely agree with you. real progress does not lie in that direction, and i regard as inimical to society all those who seek to follow it. but has this inventor entirely lost the use of his intellectual faculties?" "entirely, no; save as regards the ordinary things of life. in this respect he no longer possesses either comprehension or responsibility. his genius as an inventor, however, remains intact; it has survived his moral degeneracy, and, had his insensate demands been complied with, i have no doubt he would have produced a new war engine--which the world can get along very well without." "very well without, as you say, sir," re-echoed the count d'artigas, and captain spade nodded approval. "but you will be able to judge for yourself, count, for here is the pavilion occupied by thomas roch. if his confinement is well justified from the point of view of public security he is none the less treated with all the consideration due to him and the attention which his condition necessitates. besides, healthful house is beyond the reach of indiscreet persons who might...." the director completed the phrase with a significant motion of his head--which brought an imperceptible smile to the lips of the stranger. "but," asked the count, "is thomas roch never left alone?" "never, count, never. he has a permanent attendant in whom we have implicit confidence, who speaks his language and keeps the closest possible watch upon him. if in some way or other some indication relative to his discovery were to escape him, it would be immediately noted down and its value would be passed upon by those competent to judge." here the count d'artigas stole a rapid and meaning glance at captain spade, who responded with a gesture which said plainly enough: "i understand." and had any one observed the captain during the visit, they could not have failed to remark that he examined with the greatest minuteness that portion of the park surrounding pavilion no. , and the different paths leading to the latter--probably in view of some prearranged scheme. the garden of the pavilion was near the high wall surrounding the property, from the foot of which on the other side the hill sloped gently to the right bank of the neuse. the pavilion itself was a one-story building surmounted by a terrace in the italian style. it contained two rooms and an ante-room with strongly-barred windows. on each side and in rear of the habitation were clusters of fine trees, which were then in full leaf. in front was a cool, green velvety lawn, ornamented with shrubs and brilliantly tinted flowers. the whole garden extended over about half an acre, and was reserved exclusively for the use of thomas roch, who was free to wander about it at pleasure under the surveillance of his guardian. when the count d'artigas, captain spade, and the director entered the garden, the first person they saw was the warder gaydon, standing at the door of the pavilion. unnoticed by the director the count d'artigas eyed the attendant with singular persistence. it was not the first time that strangers had come to see the occupant of pavilion no. , for the french inventor was justly regarded as the most interesting inmate of healthful house. nevertheless, gaydon's attention was attracted by the originality of the type presented by the two visitors, of whose nationality he was ignorant. if the name of the count d'artigas was not unfamiliar to him, he had never had occasion to meet that wealthy gentleman during the latter's sojourn in the eastern ports. he therefore had no idea as to who the count was. neither was he aware that the schooner _ebba_ was then anchored at the entrance to the neuse, at the foot of the hill upon which healthful house was situated. "gaydon," demanded the director, "where is thomas roch?" "yonder," replied the warder, pointing to a man who was walking meditatively under the trees in rear of the pavilion. "the count d'artigas has been authorized to visit healthful house," the director explained; "and does not wish to go away without having seen thomas roch, who was lately the subject of a good deal too much discussion." "and who would be talked about a great deal more," added the count, "had the federal government not taken the precaution to confine him in this establishment." "a necessary precaution, count." "necessary, as you observe, mr. director. it is better for the peace of the world that his secret should die with him." after having glanced at the count d'artigas, gaydon had not uttered a word; but preceding the two strangers he walked towards the clump of trees where the inventor was pacing back and forth. thomas roch paid no attention to them. he appeared to be oblivious of their presence. meanwhile, captain spade, while being careful not to excite suspicion, had been minutely examining the immediate surroundings of the pavilion and the end of the park in which it was situated. from the top of the sloping alleys he could easily distinguish the peak of a mast which showed above the wall of the park. he recognized the peak at a glance as being that of the _ebba_, and knew therefore that the wall at this part skirted the right bank of the neuse. the count d'artigas' whole attention was concentrated upon the french inventor. the latter's health appeared to have suffered in no way from his eighteen months' confinement; but his queer attitude, his incoherent gestures, his haggard eye, and his indifference to what was passing around him testified only too plainly to the degeneration of his mental faculties. at length thomas roch dropped into a seat and with the end of a switch traced in the sand of the alley the outline of a fortification. then kneeling down he made a number of little mounds that were evidently intended to represent bastions. he next plucked some leaves from a neighboring tree and stuck them in the mounds like so many tiny flags. all this was done with the utmost seriousness and without any attention whatever being paid to the onlookers. it was the amusement of a child, but a child would have lacked this characteristic gravity. "is he then absolutely mad?" demanded the count d'artigas, who in spite of his habitual impassibility appeared to be somewhat disappointed. "i warned you, count, that nothing could be obtained from him." "couldn't he at least pay some attention to us?" "it would perhaps be difficult to induce him to do so." then turning to the attendant: "speak to him, gaydon. perhaps he will answer you." "oh! he'll answer me right enough, sir, never fear," replied gaydon. he went up to the inventor and touching him on the shoulder, said gently: "thomas roch!" the latter raised his head, and of the persons present he doubtless saw but his keeper, though captain spade had come up and all formed a circle about him. "thomas roch," continued gaydon, speaking in english, "here are some visitors to see you. they are interested in your health--in your work." the last word alone seemed to rouse him from his indifference. "my work?" he replied, also in english, which he spoke like a native. then taking a pebble between his index finger and bent thumb, as a boy plays at marbles, he projected it against one of the little sand-heaps. it scattered, and he jumped for joy. "blown to pieces! the bastion is blown to pieces! my explosive has destroyed everything at one blow!" he shouted, the light of triumph flashing in his eyes. "you see," said the director, addressing the count d'artigas. "the idea of his invention never leaves him." "and it will die with him," affirmed the attendant. "couldn't you, gaydon, get him to talk about his fulgurator?" asked his chief. "i will try, if you order me to do so, sir." "well, i do order you, for i think it might interest the count d'artigas." "certainly," assented the count, whose physiognomy betrayed no sign of the sentiments which were agitating him. "i ought to warn you that i risk bringing on another fit," observed gaydon. "you can drop the conversation when you consider it prudent. tell thomas roch that a foreigner wishes to negotiate with him for the purchase of his fulgurator." "but are you not afraid he may give his secret away?" questioned the count. he spoke with such vivacity that gaydon could not restrain a glance of distrust, which, however, did not appear to disturb the equanimity of that impenetrable nobleman. "no fear of that," said the warder. "no promise would induce him to divulge his secret. until the millions he demands are counted into his hand he will remain as mute as a stone." "i don't happen to be carrying those millions about me," remarked the count quietly. gaydon again touched roch on the shoulder and repeated: "thomas roch, here are some foreigners who are anxious to acquire your invention." the madman started. "my invention?" he cried. "my deflagrator?" and his growing animation plainly indicated the imminence of the fit that gaydon had been apprehensive about, and which questions of this character invariably brought on. "how much will you give me for it--how much?" continued roch. "how much--how much?" "ten million dollars," replied gaydon. "ten millions! ten millions! a fulgurator ten million times more powerful than anything hitherto invented! ten millions for an autopropulsive projectile which, when it explodes, destroys everything in sight within a radius of over twelve thousand square yards! ten millions for the only deflagrator that can provoke its explosion! why, all the wealth of the world wouldn't suffice to purchase the secret of my engine, and rather than sell it at such a price i would cut my tongue in half with my teeth. ten millions, when it is worth a billion--a billion--a billion!" it was clear that roch had lost all notion of things, and had gaydon offered him ten billions the madman would have replied in exactly the same manner. the count d'artigas and captain spade had not taken their eyes off him. the count was impassible as usual, though his brow had darkened, but the captain shook his head in a manner that implied plainly: "decidedly there is nothing to hope from this poor devil!" after his outburst roch fled across the garden crying hoarsely: "billions! billions!" gaydon turned to the director and remarked: "i told you how it would be." then he rushed after his patient, caught him by the arm, and led him, without any attempt at resistance, into the pavilion and closed the door. the count d'artigas remained alone with the director, captain spade having strolled off again in the direction of the wall at the bottom of the park. "you see i was not guilty of exaggeration, count," said the director. "it is obvious to every one that thomas roch is becoming daily worse. in my opinion his case is a hopeless one. if all the money he asks for were offered to him, nothing could be got from him." "very likely," replied the count, "still, if his pecuniary demands are supremely absurd, he has none the less invented an engine the power of which is infinite, one might say." "that is the opinion expressed by competent persons, count. but what he has discovered will ere long be lost with himself in one of these fits which are becoming more frequent and intense. very soon even the motive of interest, the only sentiment that appears to have survived in his mind, will become extinct." "mayhap the sentiment of hatred will remain, though," muttered the count, as spade joined them at the garden gate. chapter iii. kidnapped. half an hour later the count d'artigas and captain spade were following the beech-lined road that separated the healthful house estate from the right bank of the neuse. both had taken leave of the director, the latter declaring himself greatly honored by their visit, and the former thanking him warmly for his courteous reception. a hundred-dollar bill left as a tip for the staff of the establishment had certainly not belied the count's reputation for generosity. he was--there could be no doubt about it--a foreigner of the highest distinction, if distinction be measured by generosity. issuing by the gate at the main entrance to healthful house, they had skirted the wall that surrounded the property, and which was high enough to preclude the possibility of climbing it. not a word passed between them for some time; the count was deep in thought and captain spade was not in the habit of addressing him without being first spoken to. at last when they stood beneath the rear wall behind which, though it was not visible, the count knew pavilion no. was situated, he said: "you managed, i presume, to thoroughly explore the place, and are acquainted with every detail of it?" "certainly, _count_" replied captain spade, emphasizing the title. "you are perfectly sure about it?" "perfectly. i could go through the park with my eyes shut. if you still persist in carrying out your scheme the pavilion can be easily reached." "i do persist, spade." "notwithstanding thomas roch's mental condition?" "notwithstanding his condition; and if we succeed in carrying him off----" "that is my affair. when night comes on i undertake to enter the park of healthful house, and then the pavilion garden without being seen by anybody." "by the entrance gate?" "no, on this side." "yes, but on this side there is the wall, and if you succeed in climbing it, how are you going to get over it again with thomas roch? what if the madman cries out--what if he should resist--what if his keeper gives the alarm?" "don't worry yourself in the least about that. we have only got to go in and come out by this door." captain spade pointed to a narrow door let into the wall a few paces distant, and which was doubtless used by the staff of the establishment when they had occasion to go out by the river. "that is the way i propose to go in. it's much easier than scaling the wall with a ladder." "but the door is closed." "it will open." "has it no bolts?" "yes, but i shot them back while we were strolling about, and the director didn't notice what i had done." "how are you going to open it?" queried the count, going to the door. "here is the key," replied spade, producing it. he had withdrawn it from the lock, where it happened to be, when he had unbolted the door. "capital!" exclaimed the count. "it couldn't be better. the business will be easier than i expected. let us get back to the schooner. at eight o'clock one of the boats will put you ashore with five men." "yes, five men will do," said captain spade. "there will be enough of them to effect our object even if the keeper is aroused and it becomes necessary to put him out of the way." "put him out of the way--well, if it becomes absolutely necessary of course you must, but it would be better to seize him too and bring him aboard the _ebba_ who knows but what he has already learned a part of roch's secret?" "true." "besides, thomas roch is used to him, and i don't propose to make him change his habitudes in any way." this observation was accompanied by such a significant smile that captain spade could entertain no doubt as to the rôle reserved for the warder of healthful house. the plan to kidnap them both was thus settled, and appeared to have every chance of being successful; unless during the couple of hours of daylight that yet remained it was noticed that the key of the door had been stolen and the bolts drawn back, captain spade and his men could at least count upon being able to enter the park, and the rest, the captain affirmed, would be easy enough. thomas roch was the only patient in the establishment isolated and kept under special surveillance. all the other invalids lived in the main building, or occupied pavilions in the front of the park. the plan was to try and seize roch and gaydon separately and bind and gag them before they could cry out. the count d'artigas and his companion wended their way to a creek where one of the _ebba's_ boats awaited them. the schooner was anchored two cable lengths from the shore, her sails neatly rolled upon her yards, which were squared as neatly as those of a pleasure yacht or of a man-of-war. at the peak of the mainmast a narrow red pennant was gently swayed by the wind, which came in fitful puffs from the east. the count and the captain jumped into the boat and a few strokes of the four oars brought them alongside of the schooner. they climbed on deck and going forward to the jib-boom, leaned over the starboard bulwark and gazed at an object that floated on the water a few strokes ahead of the vessel. it was a small buoy that was rocked by the ripple of the ebbing tide. twilight gradually set in, and the outline of new-berne on the left bank of the sinuous neuse became more and more indistinct until it disappeared in the deepening shades of night. a mist set in from the sea, but though it obscured the moon it brought no sign of rain. the lights gleamed out one by one in the houses of the town. the fishing smacks came slowly up the river to their anchorage, impelled by the oars of their crews which struck the water with sharp, rhythmical strokes, and with their sails distended on the chance of catching an occasional puff of the dropping wind to help them along. a couple of steamers passed, sending up volumes of black smoke and myriads of sparks from their double stacks, and lashing the water into foam with their powerful paddles. at eight o'clock the count d'artigas appeared on the schooner's deck accompanied by a man about fifty years of age, to whom he remarked: "it is time to go, serko." "very well, i will tell spade," replied serko. at that moment the captain joined them. "you had better get ready to go," said the count. "all is ready." "be careful to prevent any alarm being given, and arrange matters so that no one will for a minute suspect that thomas roch and his keeper have been brought on board the _ebba_." "they wouldn't find them if they came to look for them," observed serko, shrugging his shoulders and laughing heartily as though he had perpetrated a huge joke. "nevertheless, it is better not to arouse their suspicion," said d'artigas. the boat was lowered, and captain spade and five sailors took their places in it. four of the latter got out the oars. the boatswain, effrondat, who was to remain in charge of the boat, went to the stern beside captain spade and took the tiller. "good luck, spade," said serko with a smile, "and don't make more noise about it than if you were a gallant carrying off his lady-love." "i won't--unless that gaydon chap--" "we must have both roch and gaydon," insisted the count d'artigas. "that is understood," replied spade. the boat pushed off, and the sailors on the deck of the schooner watched it till it was lost to sight in the darkness. pending its return, no preparations for the _ebba's_ departure were made. perhaps there was no intention of quitting the port after the men had been kidnapped. besides, how could the vessel have reached the open sea? not a breath of air was now stirring, and in half an hour the tide would be setting in again, and rising strongly and rapidly for several miles above new-berne. anchored, as has already been said, a couple of cable-lengths from the shore, the _ebba_ might have been brought much nearer to it, for the water was deep enough, and this would have facilitated the task of the kidnappers when they returned from their expedition. if, however, the count d'artigas preferred to let the vessel stay where she was, he probably had his reasons. not a soul was in sight on the bank, and the road, with its borders of beech trees that skirted the wall of healthful house estate, was equally deserted. the boat was made fast to the shore. then captain spade and his four sailors landed, leaving the boatswain in charge, and disappeared amid the trees. when they reached the wall captain spade stopped and the sailors drew up on each side of the doorway. the captain had only to turn the key in the lock and push the door, unless one of the servants, noticing that the door was not secured as usual, had bolted it. in this event their task would be an extremely difficult one, even if they succeeded in scaling the high wall. the captain put his ear to the key-hole and listened. not a sound was to be heard in the park. not even a leaf was rustling in the branches of the beeches under which they were standing. the surrounding country was wrapt in the profoundest silence. captain spade drew the key from his pocket, inserted it in the lock and turned it noiselessly. then he cautiously pushed the door, which opened inward. things were, then, just as he had left them, and no one had noticed the theft of the key. after assuring himself that nobody happened to be in the neighborhood of the pavilion the captain entered, followed by his men. the door was left wide open, so that they could beat a hurried and uninterrupted retreat in case of necessity. the trees and bushes in this shady part of the park were very thick, and it was so dark that it would not have been easy to distinguish the pavilion had not a light shone brightly in one of the windows. no doubt this was the window of the room occupied by roch and his guardian, gaydon, seeing that the latter never left the patient placed in his charge either by night or day. captain spade had expected to find him there. the party approached cautiously, taking the utmost precaution to avoid kicking a pebble or stepping on a twig, the noise of which might have revealed their presence. in this way they reached the door of the pavilion near which was the curtained window of the room in which the light was burning. but if the door was locked, how were they going to get in? captain spade must have asked himself. he had no key, and to attempt to effect an entrance through the window would be hazardous, for, unless gaydon could be prevented from giving the alarm, he would rouse the whole establishment. there was no help for it, however. the essential was to get possession of roch. if they could kidnap gaydon, too, in conformity with the intentions of the count d'artigas, so much the better. if not-- captain spade crept stealthily to the window, and standing on tiptoe, looked in. through an aperture in the curtain he could see all over the room. gaydon was standing beside thomas roch, who had not yet recovered from the fit with which he had been attacked during the count d'artigas' visit. his condition necessitated special attention, and the warder was ministering to the patient under the direction of a third person. the latter was one of the doctors attached to healthful house, and had been at once sent to the pavilion by the director when roch's paroxysm came on. his presence of course rendered the situation more complicated and the work of the kidnappers more difficult. roch, fully dressed, was extended upon a sofa. he was now fairly calm. the paroxysm, which was abating, would be followed by several hours of torpor and exhaustion. just as captain spade peeped through the window the doctor was making preparations to leave. the captain heard him say to gaydon that his (the doctor's) presence was not likely to be required any more that night, and that there was nothing to be done beyond following the instructions he had given. the doctor then walked towards the door, which, it will be remembered, was close to the window in front of which spade and his men were standing. if they remained where they were they could not fail to be seen, not only by the doctor, but by the warder, who was accompanying him to the door. before they made their appearance, however, the sailors, at a sign from their chief, had dispersed and hidden themselves behind the bushes, while spade himself crouched in the shadow beneath the window. luckily gaydon had not brought the lamp with him, so that the captain was in no danger of being seen. as he was about to take leave of gaydon, the doctor stopped on the step and remarked: "this is one of the worst attacks our patient has had. one or two more like that and he will lose the little reason he still possesses." "just so," said gaydon. "i wonder that the director doesn't prohibit all visitors from entering the pavilion. roch owes his present attack to a count d'artigas, for whose amusement harmful questions were put to him." "i will call the director's attention to the matter," responded the doctor. he then descended the steps and gaydon, leaving the door of the pavilion ajar, accompanied him to the end of the path. when they had gone captain spade stood up, and his men rejoined him. had they not better profit by the chance thus unexpectedly afforded them to enter the room and secure roch, who was in a semi-comatose condition, and then await gaydon's return, and seize the warder as he entered? this would have involved considerable risk. gaydon, at a glance, would perceive that his patient was missing and raise an alarm; the doctor would come running back; the whole staff of healthful house would turn out, and spade would not have time to escape with his precious prisoner and lock the door in the wall after him. he did not have much chance to deliberate about it, for the warder was heard returning along the gravel path. spade decided that the best thing to be done was to spring upon him as he passed and stifle his cries and overpower him before he could attempt to offer any resistance. the carrying off of the mad inventor would be easy enough, inasmuch as he was unconscious, and could not raise a finger to help himself. gaydon came round a clump of bushes and approached the entrance to the pavilion. as he raised his foot to mount the steps the four sailors sprang upon him, bore him backwards to the ground, and had gagged him, securely bound him hand and foot, and bandaged his eyes before he began to realize what had happened. two of the men then kept guard over him, while captain spade and the others entered the house. as the captain had surmised, thomas roch had sunk into such a torpor that he could have heard nothing of what had been going on outside. reclining at full length, with his eyes closed, he might have been taken for a dead man but for his heavy breathing. there was no need either to bind or gag him. one man took him by the head and another by the feet and started off with him to the schooner. captain spade was the last to quit the house after extinguishing the lamp and closing the door behind him. in this way there was no reason to suppose that the inmates would be missed before morning. gaydon was carried off in the same way as thomas roch had been. the two remaining sailors lifted him and bore him quietly but rapidly down the path to the door in the wall. the park was pitch dark. not even a glimmer of the lights in the windows of healthful house could be seen through the thick foliage. arrived at the wall, spade, who had led the way, stepped aside to allow the sailors with their burdens to pass through, then followed and closed and locked the door. he put the key in his pocket, intending to throw it into the neuse as soon as they were safely on board the schooner. there was no one on the road, nor on the bank of the river. the party made for the boat, and found that effrondat, the boatswain, had made all ready to receive them. thomas roch and gaydon were laid in the bottom of the boat, and the sailors again took their places at the oars. "hurry up, effrondat, and cast off the painter," ordered the captain. the boatswain obeyed, and pushed the boat off with his foot as he scrambled in. the men bent to their oars and rowed rapidly to the schooner, which was easily distinguishable, having hung out a light at her mizzenmast head. in two minutes they were alongside. the count d'artigas was leaning on the bulwarks by the gangway. "all right, spade?" he questioned. "yes, sir, all right!" "both of them?" "both the madman and his keeper." "doesn't anybody know about it up at healthful house? "not a soul." it was not likely that gaydon, whose eyes and ears were bandaged, but who preserved all his sang-froid, could have recognized the voices of the count d'artigas and captain spade. nor did he have the chance to. no attempt was immediately made to hoist him on board. he had been lying in the bottom of the boat alongside the schooner for fully half an hour, he calculated, before he felt himself lifted, and then lowered, doubtless to the bottom of the hold. the kidnapping having been accomplished it would seem that it only remained for the _ebba_ to weigh anchor, descend the estuary and make her way out to sea through pamlico sound. yet no preparations for departure were made. was it not dangerous to stay where they were after their daring raid? had the count d'artigas hidden his prisoners so securely as to preclude the possibility of their being discovered if the _ebba_, whose presence in proximity to healthful house could not fail to excite suspicion, received a visit from the new-berne police? however this might have been, an hour after the return of the expedition, every soul on board save the watch--the count d'artigas, serko, and captain spade in their respective cabins, and the crew in the fore-castle, were sound asleep. chapter iv. the schooner ebba. it was not till the next morning, and then very leisurely, that the _ebba_ began to make preparations for her departure. from the extremity of new-berne quay the crew might have been seen holystoning the deck, after which they loosened the reef lines, under the direction of effrondat, the boatswain, hoisted in the boats and cleared the halyards. at eight o'clock the count d'artigas had not yet appeared on deck. his companion, serko the engineer, as he was called on board, had not quitted his cabin. captain spade was strolling quietly about giving orders. the _ebba_ would have made a splendid racing yacht, though she had never participated in any of the yacht races either on the north american or british coasts. the height of her masts, the extent of the canvas she carried, her shapely, raking hull, denoted her to be a craft of great speed, and her general lines showed that she was also built to weather the roughest gales at sea. in a favorable wind she would probably make twelve knots an hour. notwithstanding these advantages, however, she must in a dead calm necessarily suffer from the same disadvantages as other sailing vessels, and it might have been supposed that the count d'artigas would have preferred a steam-yacht with which he could have gone anywhere, at any time, in any weather. but apparently he was satisfied to stick to the old method, even when he made his long trips across the atlantic. on this particular morning the wind was blowing gently from the west, which was very favorable to the _ebba_, and would enable her to stand straight out of the neuse, across pamlico sound, and through one of the inlets that led to the open sea. at ten o'clock the _ebba_ was still rocking lazily at anchor, her stem up stream and her cable tautened by the rapidly ebbing tide. the small buoy that on the previous evening had been moored near the schooner was no longer to be seen, and had doubtless been hoisted in. suddenly a gun boomed out and a slight wreath of white smoke arose from the battery. it was answered by other reports from the guns on the chain of islands along the coast. at this moment the count d'artigas and engineer serko appeared on deck. captain spade went to meet them. "guns barking," he said laconically. "we expected it," replied serko, shrugging his shoulders. "they are signals to close the passes." "what has that to do with us?" asked the count d'artigas quietly. "nothing at all," said the engineer. they all, of course, knew that the alarm-guns indicated that the disappearance of thomas roch and the warder gaydon from healthful house had been discovered. at daybreak the doctor had gone to pavilion no. to see how his patient had passed the night, and had found no one there. he immediately notified the director, who had the grounds thoroughly searched. it was then discovered that the door in rear of the park was unbolted, and that, though locked, the key had been taken away. it was evident that roch and his attendant had been carried out that way. but who were the kidnappers? no one could possibly imagine. all that could be ascertained was that at half-past seven on the previous night one of the doctors had attended thomas roch, who was suffering from one of his fits, and that when the medical man had left him the invalid was in an unconscious condition. what had happened after the doctor took leave of gaydon at the end of the garden-path could not even be conjectured. the news of the disappearance was telegraphed to new berne, and thence to raleigh. on receipt of it the governor had instantly wired orders that no vessel was to be allowed to quit pamlico sound without having been first subjected to a most rigorous search. another dispatch ordered the cruiser _falcon_, which was stationed in the port, to carry out the governor's instructions in this respect. at the same time measures were taken to keep a strict lookout in every town and village in the state. the count d'artigas could see the _falcon_, which was a couple of miles away to the east in the estuary, getting steam up and making hurried preparations to carry out her mission. it would take at least an hour before the warship could be got ready to steam out, and the schooner might by that time have gained a good start. "shall i weigh anchor?" demanded captain spade. "yes, as we have a fair wind; but you can take your time about it," replied the count d'artigas. "the passes of pamlico sound will be under observation," observed engineer serko, "and no vessel will be able to get out without receiving a visit from gentlemen as inquisitive as they will be indiscreet." "never mind, get under way all the same," ordered the count. "when the officers of the cruiser or the custom-house officers have been over the _ebba_ the embargo will be raised. i shall be indeed surprised if we are not allowed to go about our business." "with a thousand pardons for the liberty taken, and best wishes for a good voyage and speedy return," chuckled engineer serko, following the phrase with a loud and prolonged laugh. when the news was received at new-berne, the authorities at first were puzzled to know whether the missing inventor and his keeper had fled or been carried off. as, however, roch's flight could not have taken place without the connivance of gaydon, this supposition was speedily abandoned. in the opinion of the director and management of healthful house the warder was absolutely above suspicion. they must both, then, have been kidnapped. it can easily be imagined what a sensation the news caused in the town. what! the french inventor who had been so closely guarded had disappeared, and with him the secret of the wonderful fulgurator that nobody had been able to worm out of him? might not the most serious consequences follow? might not the discovery of the new engine be lost to america forever? if the daring act had been perpetrated on behalf of another nation, might not that nation, having thomas roch in its power, be eventually able to extract from him what the federal government had vainly endeavored to obtain? and was it reasonable, was it permissible, to suppose for an instant that he had been carried off for the benefit of a private individual? certainly not, was the emphatic reply to the latter question, which was too ridiculous to be entertained. therefore the whole power of the state was employed in an effort to recover the inventor. in every county of north carolina a special surveillance was organized on every road and at every railroad station, and every house in town and country was searched. every port from wilmington to norfolk was closed, and no craft of any description could leave without being thoroughly overhauled. not only the cruiser _falcon_, but every available cutter and launch was sent out with orders to patrol pamlico sound and board yachts, merchant vessels and fishing smacks indiscriminately whether anchored or not and search them down to the keelson. still the crew of the _ebba_ prepared calmly to weigh anchor, and the count d'artigas did not appear to be in the least concerned at the orders of the authorities and at the consequences that would ensue, if thomas roch and his keeper, gaydon, were found on board. at last all was ready, the crew manned the capstan bars, the sails were hoisted, and the schooner glided gracefully through the water towards the sound. twenty miles from new-berne the estuary curves abruptly and shoots off towards the northwest for about the same distance, gradually widening until it empties itself into pamlico sound. the latter is a vast expanse about seventy miles across from sivan island to roanoke. on the seaward side stretches a chain of long and narrow islands, forming a natural breakwater north and south from cape lookout to cape hatteras and from the latter to cape henry, near norfolk city, in virginia. numerous beacons on the islands and islets form an easy guide for vessels at night seeking refuge from the atlantic gales, and once inside the chain they are certain of finding plenty of good anchoring grounds. several passes afford an outlet from the sound to the sea. beyond sivan island lighthouse is ocracoke inlet, and next is the inlet of hatteras. there are also three others known as logger head inlet, new inlet, and oregon inlet. the ocracoke was the one nearest the _ebba_, and she could make it without tacking, but the _falcon_ was searching all vessels that passed through. this did not, however, make any particular difference, for by this time all the passes, upon which the guns of the forts had been trained, were guarded by government vessels. the _ebba_, therefore, kept on her way, neither trying to avoid nor offering to approach the searchers. she seemed to be merely a pleasure-yacht out for a morning sail. no attempt had up to that time been made to accost her. was she, then, specially privileged, and to be spared the bother of being searched? was the count d'artigas considered too high and mighty a personage to be thus molested, and delayed even for an hour? it was unlikely, for though he was regarded as a distinguished foreigner who lived the life of luxury enjoyed by the favored of fortune, no one, as a matter of fact, knew who he was, nor whence he came, nor whither he was going. the schooner sped gracefully over the calm waters of the sound, her flag--a gold crescent in the angle of a red field--streaming proudly in the breeze. count d'artigas was cosily ensconced in a basket-work chair on the after-deck, conversing with engineer serko and captain spade. "they don't seem in a hurry to board us," remarked serko. "they can come whenever they think proper," said the count in a tone of supreme indifference. "no doubt they are waiting for us at the entrance to the inlet," suggested captain spade. "let them wait," grunted the wealthy nobleman. then he relapsed into his customary unconcerned impassibility. captain spade's hypothesis was doubtless correct. the _falcon_ had as yet made no move towards the schooner, but would almost certainly do so as soon as the latter reached the inlet, and the count would have to submit to a search of his vessel if he wished to reach the open sea. how was it then that he manifested such extraordinary unconcern? were thomas roch and gaydon so safely hidden that their hiding-place could not possibly be discovered? the thing was possible, but perhaps the count d'artigas would not have been quite so confident had he been aware that the _ebba_ had been specially signalled to the warship and revenue cutters as a suspect. the count's visit to healthful house on the previous day had now attracted particular attention to him and his schooner. evidently, at the time, the director could have had no reason to suspect the motive of his visit. but a few hours later, thomas roch and his keeper had been carried off. no one else from outside had been near the pavilion that day. it was admitted that it would have been an easy matter for the count's companion, while the former distracted the director's attention, to push back the bolts of the door in the wall and steal the key. then the fact that the _ebba_ was anchored in rear of, and only a few hundred yards from, the estate, was in itself suspicious. nothing would have been easier for the desperadoes than to enter by the door, surprise their victims, and carry them off to the schooner. these suspicions, neither the director nor the _personnel_ of the establishment had at first liked to give expression to, but when the _ebba_ was seen to weigh anchor and head for the open sea, they appeared to be confirmed. they were communicated to the authorities of new-berne, who immediately ordered the commander of the _falcon_ to intercept the schooner, to search her minutely high and low, and from stem to stern, and on no account to let her proceed, unless he was absolutely certain that roch and gaydon were not on board. assuredly the count d'artigas could have had no idea that his vessel was the object of such stringent orders; but even if he had, it is questionable whether this superbly haughty and disdainful nobleman would have manifested any particular anxiety. towards three o'clock, the warship which was cruising before the inlet, after having sent search parties aboard a few fishing-smacks, suddenly manoeuvred to the entrance of the pass, and awaited the approaching schooner. the latter surely did not imagine that she could force a passage in spite of the cruiser, or escape from a vessel propelled by steam. besides, had she attempted such a foolhardy trick, a couple of shots from the _falcon's_ guns would speedily have constrained her to lay to. presently a boat, manned by two officers and ten sailors, put off from the cruiser and rowed towards the _ebba_. when they were only about half a cable's length off, one of the men rose and waved a flag. "that's a signal to stop," said engineer serko. "precisely," remarked the count d'artigas. "we shall have to lay to." "then lay to." captain spade went forward and gave the necessary orders, and in a few minutes the vessel slackened speed, and was soon merely drifting with the tide. the _falcon's_ boat pulled alongside, and a man in the bows held on to her with a boat-hook. the gangway was lowered by a couple of hands on the schooner, and the two officers, followed by eight of their men, climbed on deck. they found the crew of the _ebba_ drawn up in line on the forecastle. the officer in command of the boarding-party--a first lieutenant--advanced towards the owner of the schooner, and the following questions and answers were exchanged: "this schooner belongs to the count d'artigas, to whom, i presume, i have the honor of speaking?" "yes, sir." "what is her name?" "the _ebba_." "she is commanded by?--" "captain spade." "what is his nationality?" "hindo-malay." the officer scrutinized the schooner's flag, while the count d'artigas added: "will you be good enough to tell me, sir, to what circumstance i owe the pleasure of your visit on board my vessel?" "orders have been received," replied the officer, "to search every vessel now anchored in pamlico sound, or which attempts to leave it." he did not deem it necessary to insist upon this point since the _ebba_, above every other, was to be subjected to the bother of a rigorous examination. "you, of course, sir, have no intention of refusing me permission to go over your schooner?" "assuredly not, sir. my vessel is at your disposal from peaks to bilges. only i should like to know why all the vessels which happen to be in pamlico sound to-day are being subjected to this formality." "i see no reason why you should not be informed, monsieur the count," replied the officer. "the governor of north carolina has been apprised that healthful house has been broken into and two persons kidnapped, and the authorities merely wish to satisfy themselves that the persons carried off have not been embarked during the night." "is it possible?" exclaimed the count, feigning surprise. "and who are the persons who have thus disappeared from healthful house?" "an inventor--a madman--and his keeper." "a madman, sir? do you, may i ask, refer to the frenchman, thomas roch?" "the same." "the thomas roch whom i saw yesterday during my visit to the establishment--whom i questioned in presence of the director--who was seized with a violent paroxysm just as captain spade and i were leaving?" the officer observed the stranger with the keenest attention, in an effort to surprise anything suspicious in his attitude or remarks. "it is incredible!" added the count, as though he had just heard about the outrage for the first time. "i can easily understand, sir, how uneasy the authorities must be," he went on, "in view of thomas roch's personality, and i cannot but approve of the measures taken. i need hardly say that neither the french inventor nor his keeper is on board the _ebba_. however, you can assure yourself of the fact by examining the schooner as minutely as you desire. captain spade, show these gentlemen over the vessel." then saluting the lieutenant of the _falcon_ coldly, the count d'artigas sank into his deck-chair again and replaced his cigar between his lips, while the two officers and eight sailors, conducted by captain spade, began their search. in the first place they descended the main hatchway to the after saloon--a luxuriously-appointed place, filled with art objects of great value, hung with rich tapestries and hangings, and wainscotted with costly woods. it goes without saying that this and the adjoining cabins were searched with a care that could not have been surpassed by the most experienced detectives. moreover, captain spade assisted them by every means in his power, obviously anxious that they should not preserve the slightest suspicion of the _ebba's_ owner. after the grand saloon and cabins, the elegant dining-saloon was visited. then the cook's galley, captain spade's cabin, and the quarters of the crew in the forecastle were overhauled, but no sign of thomas roch or gaydon was to be seen. next, every inch of the hold, etc., was examined, with the aid of a couple of lanterns. water-kegs, wine, brandy, whisky and beer barrels, biscuit-boxes, in fact, all the provision boxes and everything the hold contained, including the stock of coal, was moved and probed, and even the bilges were scrutinized, but all in vain. evidently the suspicion that the count d'artigas had carried off the missing men was unfounded and unjust. even a rat could not have escaped the notice of the vigilant searchers, leave alone two men. when they returned on deck, however, the officers, as a matter of precaution looked into the boats hanging on the davits, and punched the lowered sails, with the same result. it only remained for them, therefore, to take leave of the count d'artigas. "you must pardon us for having disturbed you, monsieur the count," said the lieutenant. "you were compelled to obey your orders, gentlemen." "it was merely a formality, of course," ventured the officer. by a slight inclination of the head the count signified that he was quite willing to accept this euphemism. "i assure you, gentlemen, that i have had no hand in this kidnapping." "we can no longer believe so, monsieur the count, and will withdraw." "as you please. is the _ebba_ now free to proceed?" "certainly." "then _au revoir_, gentlemen, _au revoir_, for i am an _habitué_ of this coast and shall soon be back again. i hope that ere my return you will have discovered the author of the outrage, and have thomas roch safely back in healthful house. it is a consummation devoutly to be wished in the interest of the united states--i might even say of the whole world." the two officers courteously saluted the count, who responded with a nod. captain spade accompanied them to the gangway, and they were soon making for the cruiser, which had steamed near to pick them up. meanwhile the breeze had freshened considerably, and when, at a sign from d'artigas, captain spade set sail again, the _ebba_ skimmed swiftly through the inlet, and half an hour after was standing out to sea. for an hour she continued steering east-northeast, and then, the wind, being merely a land breeze, dropped, and the schooner lay becalmed, her sails limp, and her flag drooping like a wet rag. it seemed that it would be impossible for the vessel to continue her voyage that night unless a breeze sprang up, and of this there was no sign. since the schooner had cleared the inlet captain spade had stood in the bows gazing into the water, now to port, now to starboard, as if on the lookout for something. presently he shouted in a stentorian voice: "furl sail!" the sailors rushed to their posts, and in an instant the sails came rattling down and were furled. was it count d'artigas' intention to wait there till daybreak brought a breeze with it? presumably, or the sails would have remained hoisted to catch the faintest puff. a boat was lowered and captain spade jumped into it, accompanied by a sailor, who paddled it towards an object that was floating on the water a few yards away. this object was a small buoy, similar to that which had floated on the bosom of the neuse when the _ebba_ lay off healthful house. the buoy, with a towline affixed to it, was lifted into the boat that was then paddled to the bow of the _ebba_, from the deck of which another hawser was cast to the captain, who made it fast to the towline of the buoy. having dropped the latter overboard again, the captain and the sailor returned to the ship and the boat was hoisted in. almost immediately the hawser tautened, and the _ebba_, though not a stitch of canvas had been set, sped off in an easterly direction at a speed that could not have been less than ten knots an hour. night was falling fast, and soon the rapidly receding lights along the american coast were lost in the mist on the horizon. chapter v. where am i? (notes by simon hart, the engineer.) where am i? what has happened since the sudden aggression of which i was the victim near the pavilion? i had just quitted the doctor, and was about to mount the steps, close the door and resume my post beside thomas roch when several men sprang upon me and knocked me down. who are they? my eyes having been bandaged i was unable to recognize them. i could not cry for help, having been gagged. i could make no resistance, for they had bound me hand and foot. thus powerless, i felt myself lifted and carried about one hundred paces, then hoisted, then lowered, then laid down. where? where? and thomas roch, what has become of him? it must have been he rather than i they were after. i was but gaydon, the warder. none suspected that i was simon hart, the engineer, nor could they have suspected my nationality. why, therefore, should they have desired to kidnap a mere hospital attendant? there can consequently be no doubt that the french inventor has been carried off; and if he was snatched from healthful house it must have been in the hope of forcing his secret from him. but i am reasoning on the supposition that thomas roch was carried off with me. is it so? yes--it must be--it is. i can entertain no doubt whatever about it. i have not fallen into the hands of malefactors whose only intention is robbery. they would not have acted in this way. after rendering it impossible for me to cry out, after having thrown me into a clump of bushes in the corner of the garden, after having kidnapped thomas roch they would not have shut me up--where i now am. where? this is the question which i have been asking myself for hours without being able to answer it. however, one thing is certain, and that is that i have embarked upon an extraordinary adventure, that will end?--in what manner i know not--i dare not even imagine what the upshot of it will be. anyhow, it is my intention to commit to memory, minute by minute, the least circumstance, and then, if it be possible, to jot down my daily impressions. who knows what the future has in store for me? and who knows but what, in my new position, i may finally discover the secret of roth's fulgurator? if i am to be delivered one day, this secret must be made known, as well as who is the author, or who are the authors, of this criminal outrage, which may be attended with such serious consequences. i continually revert to this question, hoping that some incident will occur to enlighten me: where am i? let me begin from the beginning. after having been carried by the head and feet from healthful house, i felt that i was laid, without any brutality, i must admit, upon the stretchers of a row-boat of small dimensions. the rocking caused by the weight of my body was succeeded shortly afterwards by a further rocking--which i attribute to the embarking of a second person. can there be room for doubt that it was thomas roch? as far as he was concerned they would not have had to take the precaution of gagging him, or of bandaging his eyes, or of binding him. he must still have been in a state of prostration which precluded the possibility of his making any resistance, or even of being conscious of what was being done. the proof that i am not deceiving myself is that i could smell the unmistakable odor of ether. now, yesterday, before taking leave of us, the doctor administered a few drops of ether to the invalid and--i remember distinctly--a little of this extremely volatile substance fell upon his clothing while he was struggling in his fit. there is therefore nothing astonishing in the fact that this odor should have clung to him, nor that i should have distinguished it, even beneath the bandages that covered my face. yes, thomas roch was extended near me in the boat. and to think that had i not returned to the pavilion when i did, had i delayed a few minutes longer, i should have found him gone! let me think. what could have inspired that count d'artigas with the unfortunate curiosity to visit healthful house? if he had not been allowed to see my patient nothing of the kind would have happened. talking to thomas roch about his inventions brought on a fit of exceptional violence. the director is primarily to blame for not heeding my warning. had he listened to me the doctor would not have been called upon to attend him, the door of the pavilion would have been locked, and the attempt of the band would have been frustrated. as to the interest there could have been in carrying off thomas roch, either on behalf of a private person or of one of the states of the old world, it is so evident that there is no need to dwell upon it. however, i can be perfectly easy about the result. no one can possibly succeed in learning what for fifteen months i have been unable to ascertain. in the condition of intellectual collapse into which my fellow-countryman has fallen, all attempts to force his secret from him will be futile. moreover, he is bound to go from bad to worse until he is hopelessly insane, even as regards those points upon which he has hitherto preserved his reason intact. after all, however, it is less about thomas roch than myself that i must think just now, and this is what i have experienced, to resume the thread of my adventure where i dropped it: after more rocking caused by our captors jumping into it, the boat is rowed off. the distance must be very short, for a minute after we bumped against something. i surmise that this something must be the hull of a ship, and that we have run alongside. there is some scurrying and excitement. indistinctly through my bandages i can hear orders being given and a confused murmur of voices that lasts for about five minutes, but i cannot distinguish a word that is said. the only thought that occurs to me now is that they will hoist me on board and lower me to the bottom of the hold and keep me there till the vessel is far out at sea. obviously they will not allow either thomas roch or his keeper to appear on deck as long as she remains in pamlico sound. my conjecture is correct. still gagged and bound i am at last lifted by the legs and shoulders. my impression, however, is that i am not being raised over a ship's bulwark, but on the contrary am being lowered. are they going to drop me overboard to drown like a rat, so as to get rid of a dangerous witness? this thought flashes into my brain, and a quiver of anguish passes through my body from head to foot. instinctively i draw a long breath, and my lungs are filled with the precious air they will speedily lack. no, there is no immediate cause for alarm. i am laid with comparative gentleness upon a hard floor, which gives me the sensation of metallic coldness. i am lying at full length. to my extreme surprise, i find that the ropes with which i was bound have been untied and loosened. the tramping about around me has ceased. the next instant i hear a door closed with a bang. where am i? and, in the first place, am i alone? i tear the gag from my mouth, and the bandages from my head. it is dark--pitch dark. not a ray of light, not even the vague perception of light that the eyes preserve when the lids are tightly closed. i shout--i shout repeatedly. no response. my voice is smothered. the air i breathe is hot, heavy, thick, and the working of my lungs will become difficult, impossible, unless the store of air is renewed. i extend my arms and feel about me, and this is what i conclude: i am in a compartment with sheet-iron walls, which cannot measure more than four cubic yards. i can feel that the walls are of bolted plates, like the sides of a ship's water-tight compartment. i can feel that the entrance to it is by a door on one side, for the hinges protrude somewhat. this door must open inwards, and it is through here, no doubt, that i was carried in. i place my ear to the door, but not a sound can be heard. the silence is as profound as the obscurity--a strange silence that is only broken by the sonorousness of the metallic floor when i move about. none of the dull noises usually to be heard on board a ship is perceptible, not even the rippling of the water along the hull. nor is there the slightest movement to be felt; yet, in the estuary of the neuse, the current is always strong enough, to cause a marked oscillation to any vessel. but does the compartment in which i am confined, really belong to a ship? how do i know that i am afloat on the neuse, though i was conveyed a short distance in a boat? might not the latter, instead of heading for a ship in waiting for it, opposite healthful house, have been rowed to a point further down the river? in this case is it not possible that i was carried into the cellar of a house? this would explain the complete immobility of the compartment. it is true that the walls are of bolted plates, and that there is a vague smell of salt water, that odor _sui generis_ which generally pervades the interior of a ship, and which there is no mistaking. an interval, which i estimate at about four hours, must have passed since my incarceration. it must therefore be near midnight. shall i be left here in this way till morning? luckily, i dined at six o'clock, which is the regular dinner-hour at healthful house. i am not suffering from hunger. in fact i feel more inclined to sleep than to eat. still, i hope i shall have energy enough to resist the inclination. i will not give way to it. i must try and find out what is going on outside. but neither sound nor light can penetrate this iron box. wait a minute, though; perhaps by listening intently i may hear some sound, however feeble. therefore i concentrate all my vital power in my sense of hearing. moreover, i try--in case i should really not be on _terra firma_--to distinguish some movement, some oscillation of my prison. admitting that the ship is still at anchor, it cannot be long before it will start--otherwise i shall have to give up imagining why thomas roch and i have been carried off. at last--it is no illusion--a slight rolling proves to me, beyond a doubt, that i am not on land. we are evidently moving, but the motion is scarcely perceptible. it is not a jerky, but rather a gliding movement, as though we were skimming through the water without effort, on an even keel. let me consider the matter calmly. i am on board a vessel that was anchored in the neuse, waiting under sail or steam, for the result of the expedition. a boat brought me aboard, but, i repeat, i did not feel that i was lifted over her bulwarks. was i passed through a porthole? but after all, what does it matter? whether i was lowered into the hold or not, i am certainly upon something that is floating and moving. no doubt i shall soon be let out, together with thomas roch, supposing them to have locked him up as carefully as they have me. by being let out, i mean being accorded permission to go on deck. it will not be for some hours to come, however, that is certain, for they won't want us to be seen, so that there is no chance of getting a whiff of fresh air till we are well out at sea. if it is a sailing vessel, she must have waited for a breeze--for the breeze that freshens off shore at daybreak, and is favorable to ships navigating pamlico sound. it certainly cannot be a steamer. i could not have failed to smell the oil and other odors of the engine-room. and then i should feel the trembling of the machinery, the jerks of the pistons, and the movements of the screws or paddles. the best thing to do is to wait patiently. i shan't be taken out of this hole until to-morrow, anyway. moreover, if i am not released, somebody will surely bring me something to eat. there is no reason to suppose that they intend to starve me to death. they wouldn't have taken the trouble to bring me aboard, but would have dropped me to the bottom of the river had they been desirous of getting rid of me. once we are out at sea, what will they have to fear from me? no one could hear my shouts. as to demanding an explanation and making a fuss, it would be useless. besides, what am i to the men who have carried us off? a mere hospital attendant--one gaydon, who is of no consequence. it is thomas roch they were after. i was taken along too because i happened to return to the pavilion at the critical moment. at any rate, no matter what happens, no matter who our kidnappers may be, no matter where we are taken, i shall stick to this resolution: i will continue to play my role of warder. no one, no! none, can suspect that gaydon is simon hart, the engineer. there are two advantages in this: in the first place, they will take no notice of a poor devil of a warder, and in the second, i may be able to solve the mystery surrounding this plot and turn my knowledge to profit, if i succeed in making my escape. but whither are my thoughts wandering? i must perforce wait till we arrive at our destination before thinking of escaping. it will be time enough to bother about that when the occasion presents itself. until then the essential is that they remain ignorant as to my identity, and they cannot, and shall not, know who i am. i am now certain that we are going through the water. but there is one thing that puzzles me. it is not a sailing vessel, neither can it be a steamer. yet it is incontestably propelled by some powerful machine. there are none of the noises, nor is there the trembling that accompanies the working of steam engines. the movement of the vessel is more continuous and regular, it is a sort of direct rotation that is communicated by the motor, whatever the latter may be. no mistake is possible: the ship is propelled by some special mechanism. but what is it? is it one of those turbines that have been spoken of lately, which, fitted into a submerged tube, are destined to replace the ordinary screw, it being claimed that they utilize the resistance of the water better than the latter and give increased speed to a ship? in a few hours' time i shall doubtless know all about this means of locomotion. meanwhile there is another thing that equally puzzles me. there is not the slightest rolling or pitching. how is it that pamlico sound is so extraordinarily calm? the varying currents continuously ruffle the surface of the sound, even if nothing else does. it is true the tide may be out, and i remember that last night the wind had fallen altogether. still, no matter, the thing is inexplicable, for a ship propelled by machinery, no matter at what speed she may be going, always oscillates more or less, and i cannot perceive the slightest rocking. such are the thoughts with which my mind is persistently filled. despite an almost overpowering desire to sleep, despite the torpor that is coming upon me in this suffocating atmosphere, i am resolved not to close my eyes. i will keep awake till daylight, and there will be no daylight for me till it is let into my prison from the outside. perhaps even if the door were open it would not penetrate to this black hole, and i shall probably not see it again until i am taken on deck. i am squatting in a corner of my prison, for i have no stool or anything to sit upon, but as my eyelids are heavy and i feel somnolent in spite of myself, i get up and walk about. then i wax wrathful, anger fills my soul, i beat upon the iron walls with my fists, and shout for help. in vain! i hurt my hands against the bolts of the plates, and no one answers my cries. such conduct is unworthy of me. i flattered myself that i would remain calm under all circumstances and here i am acting like a child. the absence of any rolling or lurching movement at least proves that we are not yet at sea. instead of crossing pamlico sound, may we not be going in the opposite direction, up the river neuse? no! what would they go further inland for? if thomas roch has been carried off from healthful house, his captors obviously mean to take him out of the united states--probably to a distant island in the atlantic, or to some point on the european continent. it is, therefore, not up the neuse that our maritime machine, whatever it may be, is going, but across pamlico sound, which must be as calm as a mirror. very well, then, when we get to sea i shall soon, know, for the vessel will rock right enough in the swell off shore, even though there be no wind,--unless i am aboard a battleship, or big cruiser, and this i fancy can hardly be! but hark! if i mistake not--no, it was not imagination--i hear footsteps. some one is approaching the side of the compartment where the door is. one of the crew no doubt. are they going to let me out at last? i can now hear voices. a conversation is going on outside the door, but it is carried on in a language that i do not understand. i shout to them--i shout again, but no answer is vouchsafed. there is nothing to do, then, but wait, wait, wait! i keep repeating the word and it rings in my ears like a bell. let me try to calculate how long i have been here. the ship must have been under way for at least four or five hours. i reckon it must be past midnight, but i cannot tell, for unfortunately my watch is of no use to me in this cimmerian darkness. now, if we have been going for five hours, we must have cleared pamlico sound, whether we issued by ocracoke or hatteras inlet, and must be off the coast a good mile, at least. yet i haven't felt any motion from the swell of the sea. it is inexplicable, incredible! come now, have i made a mistake? am i the dupe of an illusion? am i not imprisoned in the hold of a ship under way? another hour has passed and the movement of the ship suddenly ceases; i realize perfectly that she is stationary. has she reached her destination? in this event we can only be in one of the coast ports to the north or south of pamlico sound. but why should thomas roch be landed again? the abduction must soon have been discovered, and our kidnappers would run the greatest risk of falling into the hands of the authorities if they attempted to disembark. however this may be, if the vessel is coming to anchor i shall hear the noise of the chain as it is paid out, and feel the jerk as the ship is brought up. i know that sound and that jerk well from experience, and i am bound to hear and feel them in a minute or two. i wait--i listen. a dead and disquieting silence reigns on board. i begin to wonder whether i am not the only living being in the ship. now i feel an irresistible torpor coming over me. the air is vitiated. i cannot breathe. my chest is bursting. i try to resist, but it is impossible to do so. the temperature rises to such a degree that i am compelled to divest myself of part of my clothing. then i lie me down in a corner. my heavy eyelids close, and i sink into a prostration that eventually forces me into heavy slumber. how long have i been asleep? i cannot say. is it night? is it day? i know not. i remark, however, that i breathe more easily, and that the air is no longer poisoned carbonic acid. was the air renewed while i slept? has the door been opened? has anybody been in here? yes, here is the proof of it! in feeling about, my hand has come in contact with a mug filled with a liquid that exhales an inviting odor. i raise it to my lips, which, are burning, for i am suffering such an agony of thirst that i would even drink brackish water. it is ale--an ale of excellent quality--which refreshes and comforts me, and i drain the pint to the last drop. but if they have not condemned me to die of thirst, neither have they condemned me to die of hunger, i suppose? no, for in one of the corners i find a basket, and this basket contains some bread and cold meat. i fall to, eating greedily, and my strength little by little returns. decidedly, i am not so abandoned as i thought i was. some one entered this obscure hole, and the open door admitted a little of the oxygen from the outside, without which i should have been suffocated. then the wherewithal to quench my thirst and appease the pangs of hunger was placed within my reach. how much longer will this incarceration last? days? months? i cannot estimate the hours that have elapsed since i fell asleep, nor have i any idea as to what time of the day or night it may be. i was careful to wind up my watch, though, and perhaps by feeling the hands--yes, i think the little hand marks eight o'clock--in the morning, no doubt. what i do know, however, is that the ship is not in motion. there is not the slightest quiver. hours and hours, weary, interminable hours go by, and i wonder whether they are again waiting till night comes on to renew my stock of air and provisions. yes, they are waiting to take advantage of my slumbers. but this time i am resolved to resist. i will feign to be asleep--and i shall know how to force an answer from whoever enters! chapter vi. on deck. here i am in the open air, breathing freely once more. i have at last been hauled out of that stifling box and taken on deck. i gaze around me in every direction and see no sign of land. on every hand is that circular line which defines earth and sky. no, there is not even a speck of land to be seen to the west, where the coast of north america extends for thousands of miles. the setting sun now throws but slanting rays upon the bosom of the ocean. it must be about six o'clock in the evening. i take out my watch and it marks thirteen minutes past six. as i have already mentioned, i waited for the door of my prison to open, thoroughly resolved not to fall asleep again, but to spring upon the first person who entered and force him to answer my questions. i was not aware then that it was day, but it was, and hour after hour passed and no one came. i began to suffer again from hunger and thirst, for i had not preserved either bite or sup. as soon as i awoke i felt that the ship was in motion again, after having, i calculated, remained stationary since the previous day--no doubt in some lonely creek, since i had not heard or felt her come to anchor. a few minutes ago--it must therefore have been six o'clock--i again heard footsteps on the other side of the iron wall of my compartment. was anybody coming to my cell? yes, for i heard the creaking of the bolts as they were drawn back, and then the door opened, and the darkness in which i had been plunged since the first hour of my captivity was illumined by the light of a lantern. two men, whom i had no time to look at, entered and seized me by the arms. a thick cloth was thrown over my head, which was enveloped in such a manner that i could see absolutely nothing. what did it all mean? what were they going to do with me? i struggled, but they held me in an iron grasp. i questioned them, but they made no reply. the men spoke to each other in a language that i could not understand, and had never heard before. they stood upon no ceremony with me. it is true i was only a madhouse warder, and they probably did not consider it necessary to do so; but i question very much whether simon hart, the engineer, would have received any more courtesy at their hands. this time, however, no attempt was made to gag me nor to bind either my arms or legs. i was simply restrained by main force from breaking away from them. in a moment i was dragged out of the compartment and pushed along a narrow passage. next, the steps of a metallic stairway resounded under our feet. then the fresh air blew in my face and i inhaled it with avidity. finally they took their hands from off me, and i found myself free. i immediately tore the cloth off my head and gazed about me. i am on board a schooner which is ripping through the water at a great rate and leaving a long white trail behind her. i had to clutch at one of the stays for support, dazzled as i was by the light after my forty-eight hours' imprisonment in complete obscurity. on the deck a dozen men with rough, weather-beaten faces come and go--very dissimilar types of men, to whom it would be impossible to attribute any particular nationality. they scarcely take any notice of me. as to the schooner, i estimate that she registers from two hundred and fifty to three hundred tons. she has a fairly wide beam, her masts are strong and lofty, and her large spread of canvas must carry her along at a spanking rate in a good breeze. aft, a grizzly-faced man is at the wheel, and he is keeping her head to the sea that is running pretty high. i try to find out the name of the vessel, but it is not to be seen anywhere, even on the life-buoys. i walk up to one of the sailors and inquire: "what is the name of this ship?" no answer, and i fancy the man does not understand me. "where is the captain?" i continue. but the sailor pays no more heed to this than he did to the previous question. i turn on my heel and go forward. above the forward hatchway a bell is suspended. maybe the name of the schooner is engraved upon it. i examine it, but can find no name upon it. i then return to the stern and address the man at the wheel. he gazes at me sourly, shrugs his shoulders, and bending, grasps the spokes of the wheel solidly, and brings the schooner, which had been headed off by a large wave from port, stem on to sea again. seeing that nothing is to be got from that quarter, i turn away and look about to see if i can find thomas roch, but i do not perceive him anywhere. is he not on board? he must be. they could have had no reason for carrying me off alone. no one could have had any idea that i was simon hart, the engineer, and even had they known it what interest could they have had in me, and what could they expect of me? therefore, as roch is not on deck, i conclude that he is locked in one of the cabins, and trust he has met with better treatment than his ex-guardian. but what is this--and how on earth could i have failed to notice it before? how is this schooner moving? her sails are furled--there is not an inch of canvas set--the wind has fallen, and the few puffs that occasionally come from the east are unfavorable, in view of the fact that we are going in that very direction. and yet the schooner speeds through the sea, her bows down, throwing off clouds of foam, and leaving a long, milky, undulating trail in her wake. is she a steam-yacht? no--there is not a smokestack about her. is she propelled by electricity--by a battery of accumulators, or by piles of great power that work her screw and send her along at this rate? i can come to no other conclusion. in any case she must be fitted with a screw, and by leaning over the stern i shall be able to see it, and can find out what sets it working afterwards. the man at the wheel watches me ironically as i approach, but makes no effort to prevent me from looking over. i gaze long and earnestly, but there is no foaming and seething of the water such as is invariably caused by the revolutions of the screw--naught but the long white furrow that a sailing vessel leaves behind is discernible in the schooner's wake. then, what kind of a machine is it that imparts such a marvellous speed to the vessel? as i have already said, the wind is against her, and there is a heavy swell on. i must--i will know. no one pays the slightest attention, and i again go forward. as i approach the forecastle i find myself face to face with a man who is leaning nonchalantly on the raised hatchway and who is watching me. he seems to be waiting for me to speak to him. i recognize him instantly. he is the person who accompanied the count d'artigas during the latter's visit to healthful house. there can be no mistake--it is he right enough. it was, then, that rich foreigner who abducted thomas roch, and i am on board the _ebba_ his schooner-yacht which is so well known on the american coast! the man before me will enlighten me about what i want to know. i remember that he and the count spoke english together. i take him to be the captain of the schooner. "captain," i say, "you are the person i saw at healthful house. you remember me, of course?" he looks me up and down but does not condescend to reply. "i am warder gaydon, the attendant of thomas roch," i continue, "and i want to know why you have carried me off and placed me on board this schooner?" the captain interrupts me with a sign. it is not made to me, however, but to some sailors standing near. they catch me by the arms, and taking no notice of the angry movement that i cannot restrain, bundle me down the hatchway. the hatchway stair in reality, i remark, is a perpendicular iron ladder, at the bottom of which, to right and left, are some cabins, and forward, the men's quarters. are they going to put me back in my dark prison at the bottom of the hold? no. they turn to the left and push me into a cabin. it is lighted by a port-hole, which is open, and through which the fresh air comes in gusts from the briny. the furniture consists of a bunk, a chair, a chest of drawers, a wash-hand-stand and a table. the latter is spread for dinner, and i sit down. then the cook's mate comes in with two or three dishes. he is a colored lad, and as he is about to withdraw, i try to question him, but he, too, vouchsafes no reply. perhaps he doesn't understand me. the door is closed, and i fall to and eat with an excellent appetite, with the intention of putting off all further questioning till some future occasion when i shall stand a chance of getting answered. it is true i am a prisoner, but this time i am comfortable enough, and i hope i shall be permitted to occupy this cabin for the remainder of the voyage, and not be lowered into that black hole again. i now give myself up to my thoughts, the first of which is that it was the count d'artigas who planned the abduction; that it was he who is responsible for the kidnapping of thomas roch, and that consequently the french inventor must be just as comfortably installed somewhere on board the schooner. but who is this count d'artigas? where does he hail from? if he has seized thomas roch, is it not because he is determined to secure the secret of the fulgurator at no matter what cost? very likely, and i must therefore be careful not to betray my identity, for if they knew the truth, i should never be afforded a chance to get away. but what a lot of mysteries to clear up, how many inexplicable things to explain--the origin of this d'artigas, his intentions as to the future, whither we are bound, the port to which the schooner belongs, and this mysterious progress through the water without sails and without screws, at a speed of at least ten knots an hour! the air becoming keener as night deepens, i close and secure the port-hole, and as my cabin is bolted on the outside, the best thing i can do is to get into my bunk and let myself be gently rocked to sleep by the broad atlantic in this mysterious cradle, the _ebba_. the next morning i rise at daybreak, and having performed my ablutions, dress myself and wait. presently the idea of trying the door occurs to me. i find that it has been unbolted, and pushing it open, climb the iron ladder and emerge on deck. the crew are washing down the deck, and standing aft and conversing are two men, one of whom is the captain. the latter manifests no surprise at seeing me, and indicates my presence to his companion by a nod. this other man, whom i have never before seen, is an individual of about fifty years of age, whose dark hair is streaked with gray. his features are delicately chiselled, his eyes are bright, and his expression is intelligent and not at all displeasing. he is somewhat of the grecian type, and i have no doubt that he is of hellenic origin when i hear him called serko--engineer serko--by the captain of the _ebba_. as to the latter, he is called spade--captain spade--and this name has an italian twang about it. thus there is a greek, an italian, and a crew recruited from every corner of the earth to man a schooner with a norwegian name! this mixture strikes me as being suspicious. and that count d'artigas, with his spanish name and asiatic type, where does he come from? captain spade and engineer serko continue to converse in a low tone of voice. the former is keeping a sharp eye on the man at the wheel, who does not appear to pay any particular attention to the compass in front of him. he seems to pay more heed to the gestures of one of the sailors stationed forward, and who signals to him to put the helm to port or to starboard. thomas roch is near them, gazing vacantly out upon the vast expanse which is not limited on the horizon by a single speck of land. two sailors watch his every movement. it is evidently feared that the madman may possibly attempt to jump overboard. i wonder whether i shall be permitted to communicate with my ward. i walk towards him, and captain spade and engineer serko watch me. thomas roch doesn't see me coming, and i stand beside him. still he takes no notice of me, and makes no movement. his eyes, which sparkle brightly, wander over the ocean, and he draws in deep breaths of the salt, vivifying atmosphere. added to the air surcharged with oxygen is a magnificent sunset in a cloudless sky. does he perceive the change in his situation? has he already forgotten about healthful house, the pavilion in which he was a prisoner, and gaydon, his keeper? it is highly probable. the past has presumably been effaced from his memory and he lives solely in the present. in my opinion, even on the deck of the _ebba_, in the middle of the sea, thomas roch is still the helpless, irresponsible man whom i tended for fifteen months. his intellectual condition has undergone no change, and his reason will return only when he is spoken to about his inventions. the count d'artigas is perfectly aware of this mental disposition, having had a proof of it during his visit, and he evidently relies thereon to surprise sooner or later the inventor's secret. but with what object? "thomas roch!" i exclaim. my voice seems to strike him, and after gazing at me fixedly for an instant he averts his eyes quickly. i take his hand and press it. he withdraws it brusquely and walks away, without having recognized me, in the direction of captain spade and engineer serko. does he think of speaking to one or other of these men, and if they speak to him will he be more reasonable than he was with me, and reply to them? at this moment his physiognomy lights up with a gleam of intelligence. his attention, obviously, has been attracted by the queer progress of the schooner. he gazes at the masts and the furled sails. then he turns back and stops at the place where, if the _ebba_ were a steamer, the funnel ought to be, and which in this case ought to be belching forth a cloud of black smoke. what appeared so strange to me evidently strikes thomas roch as being strange, too. he cannot explain what i found inexplicable, and, as i did, he walks aft to see if there is a screw. on the flanks of the _ebba_ a shoal of porpoises are sporting. swift as is the schooner's course they easily pass her, leaping and gambolling in their native element with surprising grace and agility. thomas roch pays no attention to them, but leans over the stern. engineer serko and captain spade, fearful lest he should fall overboard, hurry to him and drag him gently, but firmly, away. i observe from long experience that roch is a prey to violent excitement. he turns about and gesticulates, uttering incoherent phrases the while. it is plain to me that another fit is coming on, similar to the one he had in the pavilion of healthful house on the night we were abducted. he will have to be seized and carried down to his cabin, and i shall perhaps be summoned to attend to him. meanwhile engineer serko and captain spade do not lose sight of him for a moment. they are evidently curious to see what he will do. after walking towards the mainmast and assuring himself that the sails are not set, he goes up to it and flinging his arms around it, tries with all his might to shake it, as though seeking to pull it down. finding his efforts futile, he quits it and goes to the foremast, where the same performance is gone through. he waxes more and more excited. his vague utterances are followed by inarticulate cries. suddenly he rushes to the port stays and clings to them, and i begin to fear that he will leap into the rigging and climb to the cross-tree, where he might be precipitated into the sea by a lurch of the ship. on a sign from captain spade, some sailors run up and try to make him relinquish his grasp of the stays, but are unable to do so. i know that during his fits he is endowed with the strength of ten men, and many a time i have been compelled to summon assistance in order to overpower him. other members of the crew, however, come up, and the unhappy madman is borne to the deck, where two big sailors hold him down, despite his extraordinary strength. the only thing to do is to convey him to his cabin, and let him lie there till he gets over his fit. this is what will be done in conformity with orders given by a new-comer whose voice seems familiar to me. i turn and recognize him. he is the count d'artigas, with a frown on his face and an imperious manner, just as i had seen him at healthful house. i at once advance toward him. i want an explanation and mean to have it. "by what right, sir?"--i begin. "by the right of might," replies the count. then he turns on his heel, and thomas roch is carried below. chapter vii. two days at sea. perhaps--should circumstances render it necessary--i may be induced to tell the count d'artigas that i am simon hart, the engineer. who knows but what i may receive more consideration than if i remain warder gaydon? this measure, however, demands reflection. i have always been dominated by the thought that if the owner of the _ebba_ kidnapped the french inventor, it was in the hope of getting possession of roch's fulgurator, for which, neither the old nor new continent would pay the impossible price demanded. in that case the best thing i can do is to remain warder gaydon, on the chance that i may be allowed to continue in attendance upon him. in this way, if thomas roch should ever divulge his secret, i may learn what it was impossible to do at healthful house, and can act accordingly. meanwhile, where is the _ebba_ bound?--first question. who and what is the count d'artigas?--second question. the first will be answered in a few days' time, no doubt, in view of the rapidity with which we are ripping through the water, under the action of a means of propulsion that i shall end by finding out all about. as regards the second, i am by no means so sure that my curiosity will ever be gratified. in my opinion this enigmatical personage has an all important reason for hiding his origin, and i am afraid there is no indication by which i can gauge his nationality. if the count d'artigas speaks english fluently--and i was able to assure myself of that fact during his visit to pavilion no. ,--he pronounces it with a harsh, vibrating accent, which is not to be found among the peoples of northern latitudes. i do not remember ever to have heard anything like it in the course of my travels either in the old or new world--unless it be the harshness characteristic of the idioms in use among the malays. and, in truth, with his olive, verging on copper-tinted skin, his jet-black, crinkly hair, his piercing, deep-set, restless eyes, his square shoulders and marked muscular development, it is by no means unlikely that he belongs to one of the extreme eastern races. i believe this name of d'artigas is an assumed one, and his title of count likewise. if his schooner bears a norwegian name, he at any rate is not of scandinavian origin. he has nothing of the races of northern europe about him. but whoever and whatever he may be, this man abducted thomas roch--and me with him--with no good intention, i'll be bound. but what i should like to know is, has he acted as the agent of a foreign power, or on his own account? does he wish to profit alone by thomas roch's invention, and is he in the position to dispose of it profitably? that is another question that i cannot yet answer. maybe i shall be able to find out from what i hear and see ere i make my escape, if escape be possible. the _ebba_ continues on her way in the same mysterious manner. i am free to walk about the deck, without, however, being able to go beyond the fore hatchway. once i attempted to go as far as the bows where i could, by leaning over, perceive the schooner's stem as it cut through the water, but acting, it was plain, on orders received, the watch on deck turned me back, and one of them, addressing me brusquely in harsh, grating english, said: "go back! go back! you are interfering with the working of the ship!" with the working of the ship! there was no working. did they realize that i was trying to discover by what means the schooner was propelled? very likely, and captain spade, who had looked on, must have known it, too. even a hospital attendant could not fail to be astonished at the fact that a vessel without either screw or sails was going along at such a speed. however this may be, for some reason or other, the bows of the _ebba_ are barred to me. toward ten o'clock a breeze springs up--a northwest wind and very favorable--and captain spade gives an order to the boatswain. the latter immediately pipes all hands on deck, and the mainsail, the foresail, staysail and jibs are hoisted. the work could not have been executed with greater regularity and discipline on board a man-of-war. the _ebba_ now has a slight list to port, and her speed is notably increased. but the motor continues to push her along, as is evident from the fact that the sails are not always as full as they ought to be if the schooner were bowling along solely under their action. however, they continue to render yeoman's service, for the breeze has set in steadily. the sky is clear, for the clouds in the west disappear as soon as they attain the horizon, and the sunlight dances on the water. my preoccupation now is to find out as near as possible where we are bound for. i am a good-enough sailor to be able to estimate the approximate speed of a ship. in my opinion the _ebba_ has been travelling at the rate of from ten to eleven knots an hour. as to the direction we have been going in, it is always the same, and i have been able to verify this by casual glances at the binnacle. if the fore part of the vessel is barred to warder gaydon he has been allowed a free run of the remainder of it. time and again i have glanced at the compass, and noticed that the needle invariably pointed to the east, or to be exact, east-southeast. these are the conditions in which we are navigating this part of the atlantic ocean, which is bounded on the west by the coast of the united states of america. i appeal to my memory. what are the islands or groups of islands to be found in the direction we are going, ere the continent of the old world is reached? north carolina, which the schooner quitted forty-eight hours ago, is traversed by the thirty-fifth parallel of latitude, and this parallel, extending eastward, must, if i mistake not, cut the african coast at morocco. but along the line, about three thousand miles from america, are the azores. is it presumable that the _ebba_ is heading for this archipelago, that the port to which she belongs is somewhere in these islands which constitute one of portugal's insular domains? i cannot admit such an hypothesis. besides, before the azores, on the line of the thirty-fifth parallel, is the bermuda group, which belongs to england. it seems to me to be a good deal less hypothetical that, if the count d'artigas was entrusted with the abduction of thomas roch by a european power at all, it was by the united kingdom of great britain and ireland. the possibility, however, remains that he may be acting solely in his own interest. three or four times during the day count d'artigas has come aft and remained for some time scanning the surrounding horizon attentively. when a sail or the smoke from a steamer heaves in sight he examines the passing vessel for a considerable time with a powerful telescope. i may add that he has not once condescended to notice my presence on deck. now and then captain spade joins him and both exchange a few words in a language that i can neither understand nor recognize. it is with engineer serko, however, that the owner of the _ebba_ converses more readily than with anybody else, and the latter appears to be very intimate with him. the engineer is a good deal more free, more loquacious and less surly than his companions, and i wonder what position he occupies on the schooner. is he a personal friend of the count d'artigas? does he scour the seas with him, sharing the enviable life enjoyed by the rich yachtsman? he is the only man of the lot who seems to manifest, if not sympathy with, at least some interest in me. i have not seen thomas roch all day. he must be shut in his cabin, still under the influence of the fit that came upon him last night. i feel certain that this is so, when about three o'clock in the afternoon, just as he is about to go below, the count beckons me to approach. i do not know what he wishes to say to me, this count d'artigas, but i do know what i will say to him. "do these fits to which thomas roch is subject last long?" he asks me in english. "sometimes forty-eight hours," i reply. "what is to be done?" "nothing at all. let him alone until he falls asleep. after a night's sleep the fit will be over and thomas roch will be his own helpless self again." "very well, warder gaydon, you will continue to attend him as you did at healthful house, if it be necessary." "to attend to him!" "yes--on board the schooner--pending our arrival." "where?" "where we shall be to-morrow afternoon," replies the count. to-morrow, i say to myself. then we are not bound for the coast of africa, nor even the azores. there only remains the hypothesis that we are making for the bermudas. count d'artigas is about to go down the hatchway when i interrogate him in my turn: "sir," i exclaim, "i desire to know, i have the right to know, where i am going, and----" "here, warder gaydon," he interrupted, "you have no rights. all you have to do is to answer when you are spoken to." "i protest!" "protest, then," replies this haughty and imperious personage, glancing at me menacingly. then he disappears down the hatchway, leaving me face to face with engineer serko. "if i were you, warder gaydon, i would resign myself to the inevitable," remarks the latter with a smile. "when one is caught in a trap----" "one can cry out, i suppose?" "what is the use when no one is near to hear you?" "i shall be heard some day, sir." "some day--that's a long way off. however, shout as much as you please." and with this ironical advice, engineer serko leaves me to my own reflections. towards four o'clock a big ship is reported about six miles off to the east, coming in our direction. she is moving rapidly and grows perceptibly larger. black clouds of smoke pour out of her two funnels. she is a warship, for a narrow pennant floats from her main-mast, and though she is not flying any flag i take her to be an american cruiser. i wonder whether the _ebba_ will render her the customary salute as she passes. no; for the schooner suddenly changes her course with the evident intention of avoiding her. this proceeding on the part of such a suspicious yacht does not astonish me greatly. but what does cause me extreme surprise is captain spade's way of manoeuvring. he runs forward to a signalling apparatus in the bows, similar to that by which orders are transmitted to the engine room of a steamer. as soon as he presses one of the buttons of this apparatus the _ebba_ veers off a point to the south-west. evidently an order of "some kind" has been transmitted to the driver of the machine of "some kind" which causes this inexplicable movement of the schooner by the action of a motor of "some kind" the principle of which i cannot guess at. the result of this manoeuvre is that the _ebba_ slants away from the cruiser, whose course does not vary. why should this warship cause a pleasure-yacht to turn out of its way? i have no idea. but the _ebba_ behaves in a very different manner when about six o'clock in the evening a second ship comes in sight on the port bow. this time, instead of seeking to avoid her, captain spade signals an order by means of the apparatus above referred to, and resumes his course to the east--which will bring him close to the said ship. an hour later, the two vessels are only about four miles from each other. the wind has dropped completely. the strange ship, which is a three-masted merchantman, is taking in her top-gallant sails. it is useless to expect the wind to spring up again during the night, and she will lay becalmed till morning. the _ebba_, however, propelled by her mysterious motor, continues to approach her. it goes without saying, that captain spade has also begun to take in sail, and the work, under the direction of the boatswain effrondat, is executed with the same precision and promptness that struck me before. when the twilight deepens into darkness, only a mile and a half separates the vessels. captain spade then comes up to me--i am standing on the starboard side--and unceremoniously orders me to go below. i can but obey. i remark, however, ere i go, that the boatswain has not lighted the head-lamps, whereas the lamps of the three-master shine brightly--green to starboard, and red to port. i entertain no doubt that the schooner intends to pass her without being seen; for though she has slackened speed somewhat, her direction has not been in any way modified. i enter my cabin under the impression of a vague foreboding. my supper is on the table, but uneasy, i know not why, i hardly touch it, and lie down to wait for sleep that does not come. i remain in this condition for two hours. the silence is unbroken save by the water that ripples along the vessel's sides. my mind is full of the events of the past two days, and other thoughts crowd thickly upon me. to-morrow afternoon we shall reach our destination. to-morrow, i shall resume, on land, my attendance upon thomas roch, "if it be necessary," said the count d'artigas. if, when i was thrown into that black hole at the bottom of the hold, i was able to perceive when the schooner started off across pamlico sound, i now feel that she has come to a stop. it must be about ten o'clock. why has she stopped? when captain spade ordered me below, there was no land in sight. in this direction, there is no island until the bermuda group is reached--at least there is none on the map--and we shall have to go another fifty or sixty miles before the bermudas can be sighted by the lookout men. not only has the _ebba_ stopped, but her immobility is almost complete. there is not a breath of wind, and scarcely any swell, and her slight, regular rocking is hardly perceptible. then my thoughts turn to the merchantman, which was only a mile and a half off, on our bow, when i came below. if the schooner continued her course towards her, she must be almost alongside now. we certainly cannot be lying more than one or two cables' length from her. the three-master, which was becalmed at sundown, could not have gone west. she must be close by, and if the night is clear, i shall be able to see her through the porthole. it occurs to me, that perhaps a chance of escape presents itself. why should i not attempt it, since no hope of being restored to liberty is held out to me? it is true i cannot swim, but if i seize a life buoy and jump overboard, i may be able to reach the ship, if i am not observed by the watch on deck. i must quit my cabin and go up by the forward hatchway. i listen. i hear no noise, either in the men's quarters, or on deck. the sailors must all be asleep at this hour. here goes. i try to open the door, and find it is bolted on the outside, as i might have expected. i must give up the attempt, which, after all, had small chance of success. the best thing i can do, is to go to sleep, for i am weary of mind, if not of body. i am restless and racked by conflicting thoughts, and apprehensions of i know not what. oh! if i could but sink into the blessed oblivion of slumber! i must have managed to fall asleep, for i have just been awakened by a noise--an unusual noise, such as i have not hitherto heard on board the schooner. day begins to peer through the glass of my port-hole, which is turned towards the east. i look at my watch. it is half-past four. the first thing i wonder is, whether the _ebba_ has resumed her voyage. no, i am certain she has not, either by sail, or by her motor. the sea is as calm at sunrise as it was at sunset. if the _ebba_ has been going ahead while i slept, she is at any rate, stationary now. the noise to which i referred, is caused by men hurrying to and fro on deck--by men heavily laden. i fancy i can also hear a similar noise in the hold beneath my cabin floor, the entrance to which is situated abaft the foremast. i also feel that something is scraping against the schooner's hull. have boats come alongside? are the crew engaged in loading or unloading merchandise? and yet we cannot possibly have reached our journey's end. the count d'artigas said that we should not reach our destination till this afternoon. now, i repeat, she was, last night, fully fifty or sixty miles from the nearest land, the group of the bermudas. that she could have returned westward, and can be in proximity to the american coast, is inadmissible, in view of the distance. moreover, i have reason to believe that the _ebba_ has remained stationary all night. before i fell asleep, i know she had stopped, and i now know that she is not moving. however, i shall see when i am allowed to go on deck. my cabin door is still bolted, i find on trying it; but i do not think they are likely to keep me here when broad daylight is on. an hour goes by, and it gradually gets lighter. i look out of my porthole. the ocean is covered by a mist, which the first rays of the sun will speedily disperse. i can, however, see for a half a mile, and if the three-masted merchantman is not visible, it is probably because she is lying off the other, or port, side of the _ebba_. presently i hear a key turned in my door, and the bolts drawn. i push the door open and clamber up the iron ladder to the deck, just as the men are battening down the cover of the hold. i look for the count d'artigas, but do not see him. he has not yet left his cabin. aft, captain spade and engineer serko are superintending the stowing of some bales, which have doubtless been hoisted from the hold. this explains the noisy operations that were going on when i was awakened. obviously, if the crew are getting out the cargo, we are approaching the end of our voyage. we are not far from port, and perhaps in a few hours, the schooner will drop anchor. but what about the sailing ship that was to port of us? she ought to be in the same place, seeing that there has been and is no wind. i look for her, but she is nowhere to be seen. there is not a sail, not a speck on the horizon either east, west, north or south. after cogitating upon the circumstance i can only arrive at the following conclusion, which, however, can only be accepted under reserve: although i did not notice it, the _ebba_ resumed her voyage while i slept, leaving the three-master becalmed behind her, and this is why the merchantman is no longer visible. i am careful not to question captain spade about it, nor even engineer serko, as i should certainly receive no answer. besides, at this moment captain spade goes to the signalling apparatus and presses one of the buttons on the upper disk. almost immediately the _ebba_ gives a jerk, then with her sails still furled, she starts off eastward again. two hours later the count d'artigas comes up through the main hatchway and takes his customary place aft. serko and captain spade at once approach and engage in conversation with him. all three raise their telescopes and sweep the horizon from southeast to northeast. no one will be surprised to learn that i gaze intently in the same direction; but having no telescope i cannot distinguish anything. the midday meal over we all return on deck--all with the exception of thomas roch, who has not quitted his cabin. towards one o'clock land is sighted by the lookout man on the foretop cross-tree. inasmuch as the _ebba_ is bowling along at great speed i shall soon be able to make out the coast line. in effect, two hours later a vague semicircular line that curves outward is discernible about eight miles off. as the schooner approaches it becomes more distinct. it is a mountain, or at all events very high ground, and from its summit a cloud of smoke ascends. what! a volcano in these parts? it must then be---- chapter viii. back cup. in my opinion the _ebba_ could have struck no other group of islands but the bermudas in this part of the atlantic. this is clear from the distance covered from the american coast and the direction sailed in since we issued from pamlico sound. this direction has constantly been south-southeast, and the distance, judging from the _ebba's_ rate of speed, which has scarcely varied, is approximately seven hundred and fifty miles. still, the schooner does not slacken speed. the count d'artigas and engineer serko remain aft, by the man at the wheel. captain spade has gone forward. are we not going to leave this island, which appears to be isolated, to the west? it does not seem likely, since it is still broad daylight, and the hour at which the _ebba_ was timed to arrive. all the sailors are drawn up on deck, awaiting orders, and boatswain effrondat is making preparations to anchor. ere a couple of hours have passed i shall know all about it. it will be the first answer to one of the many questions that have perplexed me since the schooner put to sea. and yet it is most unlikely that the port to which the _ebba_ belongs is situated on one of the bermuda islands, in the middle of an english archipelago--unless the count d'artigas has kidnapped thomas roch for the british government, which i cannot believe. i become aware that this extraordinary man is gazing at me with singular persistence. although he can have no suspicion that i am simon hart, the engineer, he must be asking himself what i think of this adventure. if warder gaydon is but a poor devil, this poor devil will manifest as much unconcern as to what is in store for him as any gentleman could--even though he were the proprietor of this queer pleasure yacht. still i am a little uneasy under his gaze. i dare say that if the count d'artigas could guess how certain things have suddenly become clear to me, he would not hesitate to have me thrown overboard. prudence therefore commands me to be more circumspect than ever. without giving rise to any suspicion--even in the mind of engineer serko--i have succeeded in raising a corner of the mysterious veil, and i begin to see ahead a bit. as the _ebba_ draws nearer, the island, or rather islet, towards which she is speeding shows more sharply against the blue background of the sky. the sun which has passed the zenith, shines full upon the western side. the islet is isolated, or at any rate i cannot see any others of the group to which it belongs, either to north or south. this islet, of curious contexture, resembles as near as possible a cup turned upside down, from which a fuliginous vapor arises. its summit--the bottom of the cup, if you like--is about three hundred feet above the level of the sea, and its flanks, which are steep and regular, are as bare as the sea-washed rocks at its base. there is another peculiarity about it which must render the islet easily recognizable by mariners approaching it from the west, and this is a rock which forms a natural arch at the base of the mountain--the handle of the cup, so to speak--and through which the waves wash as freely as the sunshine passes. seen this way the islet fully justifies the name of back cup given to it. well, i know and recognize this islet! it is situated at the extremity of the archipelago of the bermudas. it is the "reversed cup" that i had occasion to visit a few years ago--no, i am not mistaken. i then climbed over the calcareous and crooked rocks at its base on the east side. yes, it is back cup, sure enough! had i been less self-possessed i might have uttered an exclamation of surprise--and satisfaction--which, with good reason, would have excited the attention and suspicion of the count d'artigas. these are the circumstances under which i came to explore back cup while on a visit to bermuda. this archipelago, which is situated about seven hundred and fifty miles from north carolina is composed of several hundred islands or islets. its centre is crossed by the sixty-fourth meridian and the thirty-second parallel. since the englishman lomer was shipwrecked and cast up there in , the bermudas have belonged to the united kingdom, and in consequence the colonial population has increased to ten thousand inhabitants. it was not for its productions of cotton, coffee, indigo, and arrowroot that england annexed the group--seized it, one might say; but because it formed a splendid maritime station in that part of the ocean, and in proximity to the united states of america. possession was taken of it without any protest on the part of other powers, and bermuda is now administered by a british governor with the addition of a council and a general assembly. the principal islands of the archipelago are called st. david, somerset, hamilton, and st. george. the latter has a free port, and the town of the same name is also the capital of the group. the largest of these isles is not more than seventeen miles long and five wide. leaving out the medium-sized ones, there remains but an agglomeration of islets and reefs scattered over an area of twelve square leagues. although the climate of bermuda is very healthy, very salubrious, the isles are nevertheless frightfully beaten by the heavy winter tempests of the atlantic, and their approach by navigators presents certain difficulties. what the archipelago especially lacks are rivers and rios. however, as abundant rains fall frequently, this drawback is got over by the inhabitants, who treasure up the heaven-sent water for household and agricultural purposes. this has necessitated the construction of vast cisterns which the downfalls keep filled. these works of engineering skill justly merit the admiration they receive and do honor to the genius of man. it was in connection with the setting up of these cisterns that i made the trip, as well as out of curiosity to inspect the fine works. i obtained from the company of which i was the engineer in new jersey a vacation of several weeks, and embarked at new york for the bermudas. while i was staying on hamilton island, in the vast port of southampton, an event occurred of great interest to geologists. one day a whole flotilla of fishers, men, women and children, entered southampton harbor. for fifty years these families had lived on the east coast of back cup, where they had erected log-cabins and houses of stone. their position for carrying on their industry was an exceptionally favorable one, for the waters teem with fish all the year round, and in march and april whales abound. nothing had hitherto occurred to disturb their tranquil existence. they were quite contented with their rough lot, which was rendered less onerous by the facility of communication with hamilton and st. george. their solid barks took cargoes of fish there, which they exchanged for the necessities of life. why had they thus abandoned the islet with the intention, as it pretty soon appeared, of never returning to it? the reason turned out to be that they no longer considered themselves in safety there. a couple of months previously they had been at first surprised, then alarmed, by several distinct detonations that appeared to have taken place in the interior of the mountain. at the same time smoke and flames issued from the summit--or the bottom of the reversed cup, if you like. now no one had ever suspected that the islet was of volcanic origin, or that there was a crater at the top, no one having been able to climb its sides. now, however, there could be no possible doubt that the mountain was an ancient volcano that had suddenly become active again and threatened the village with destruction. during the ensuing two months internal rumblings and explosions continued to be heard, which were accompanied by bursts of flame from the top--especially at night. the island was shaken by the explosions--the shocks could be distinctly felt. all these phenomena were indicative of an imminent eruption, and there was no spot at the base of the mountain that could afford any protection from the rivers of lava that would inevitably pour down its smooth, steep slopes and overwhelm the village in their boiling flood. besides, the very mountain might be destroyed in the eruption. there was nothing for the population exposed to such a dire catastrophe to do but leave. this they did. their humble lares and penates, in fact all their belongings, were loaded into the fishing-smacks, and the entire colony sought refuge in southhampton harbor. the news that a volcano, that had presumably been smouldering for centuries at the western extremity of the group, showed signs of breaking out again, caused a sensation throughout the bermudas. but while some were terrified, the curiosity of others was aroused, mine included. the phenomenon was worth investigation, even if the simple fisher-folk had exaggerated. back cup, which, as already stated, lies at the western extremity of the archipelago, is connected therewith by a chain of small islets and reefs, which cannot be approached from the east. being only three hundred feet in altitude, it cannot be seen either from st. george or hamilton. i joined a party of explorers and we embarked in a cutter that landed us on the island, and made our way to the abandoned village of the bermudan fishers. the internal crackings and detonations could be plainly heard, and a sheaf of smoke was swayed by the wind at the summit. beyond a peradventure the ancient volcano had been started again by the subterranean fire, and an eruption at any moment was to be apprehended. in vain we attempted to climb to the mouth of the crater. the mountain sheered down at an angle of from seventy-five to eighty degrees, and its smooth, slippery sides afforded absolutely no foothold. anything more barren than this rocky freak of nature it would be difficult to conceive. only a few tufts of wild herbs were to be seen upon the whole island, and these seemed to have no _raison d'être_. our explorations were therefore necessarily limited, and in view of the active symptoms of danger that manifested themselves, we could but approve the action of the villagers in abandoning the place; for we entertained no doubt that its destruction was imminent. these were the circumstances in which i was led to visit back cup, and no one will consequently be surprised at the fact that i recognized it immediately we hove in sight of the queer structure. no, i repeat, the count d'artigas would probably not be overpleased if he were aware that warder gaydon is perfectly acquainted with this islet, even if the _ebba_ was to anchor there--which, as there is no port, is, to say the least, extremely improbable. as we draw nearer, i attentively examine back cup. not one of its former inhabitants has been induced to return, and, as it is absolutely deserted, i cannot imagine why the schooner should visit the place. perhaps, however, the count d'artigas and his companions have no intention of landing there. even though the _ebba_ should find temporary shelter between the rocky sides of a narrow creek there is nothing to give ground to the supposition that a wealthy yachtsman would have the remotest idea of fixing upon as his residence an arid cone exposed to all the terrible tempests of the western atlantic. to live here is all very well for rustic fishermen, but not for the count d'artigas, engineer serko, captain spade and his crew. back cup is now only half a mile off, and the seaweed thrown up on its rocky base is plainly discernible. the only living things upon it are the sea-gulls and other birds that circle in clouds around the smoking crater. when she is only two cable's lengths off, the schooner slackens speed, and then stops at the entrance of a sort of natural canal formed by a couple of reefs that barely rise above the water. i wonder whether the _ebba_ will venture to try the dangerous feat of passing through it. i do not think so. she will probably lay where she is--though why she should do so i do not know--for a few hours, and then continue her voyage towards the east. however this may be i see no preparations in progress for dropping anchor. the anchors are suspended in their usual places, the cables have not been cleared, and no motion has been made to lower a single boat. at this moment count d'artigas, engineer serko and captain spade go forward and perform some manoeuvre that is inexplicable to me. i walk along the port side of the deck until i am near the foremast, and then i can see a small buoy that the sailors are hoisting in. almost immediately the water, at the same spot becomes dark and i observe a black mass rising to the surface. is it a big whale rising for air, and is the _ebba_ in danger of being shattered by a blow from the monster's tail? now i understand! at last the mystery is solved. i know what was the motor that caused the schooner to go at such an extraordinary speed without sails and without a screw. her indefatigable motor is emerging from the sea, after having towed her from the coast of america to the archipelago of the bermudas. there it is, floating alongside--a submersible boat, a submarine tug, worked by a screw set in motion by the current from a battery of accumulators or powerful electric piles. on the upper part of the long cigar-shaped iron tug is a platform in the middle of which is the "lid" by which an entrance is effected. in the fore part of the platform projects a periscope, or lookout, formed by port-holes or lenses through which an electric searchlight can throw its gleam for some distance under water in front of and on each side of the tug. now relieved of its ballast of water the boat has risen to the surface. its lid will open and fresh air will penetrate it to every part. in all probability, if it remained submerged during the day it rose at night and towed the _ebba_ on the surface. but if the mechanical power of the tug is produced by electricity the latter must be furnished by some manufactory where it is stored, and the means of procuring the batteries is not to be found on back cup, i suppose. and then, why does the _ebba_ have recourse to this submarine towing system? why is she not provided with her own means of propulsion, like other pleasure-boats? these are things, however, upon which i have at present no leisure to ruminate. the lid of the tug opens and several men issue on to the platform. they are the crew of this submarine boat, and captain spade has been able to communicate with them and transmit his orders as to the direction to be taken by means of electric signals connected with the tug by a wire that passes along the stem of the schooner. engineer serko approaches me and says, pointing to the boat: "get in." "get in!" i exclaim. "yes, in the tug, and look sharp about it." as usual there is nothing for it but to obey. i hasten to comply with the order and clamber over the side. at the same time thomas roch appears on deck accompanied by one of the crew. he appears to be very calm, and very indifferent too, and makes no resistance when he is lifted over and lowered into the tug. when he has been taken in, count d'artigas and engineer serko follow. captain spade and the crew of the _ebba_ remain behind, with the exception of four men who man the dinghy, which has been lowered. they have hold of a long hawser, with which the schooner is probably to be towed through the reef. is there then a creek in the middle of the rocks where the vessel is secure from the breakers? is this the port to which she belongs? they row off with the hawser and make the end fast to a ring in the reef. then the crew on board haul on it and in five minutes the schooner is so completely lost to sight among the rocks that even the tip of her mast could not be seen from the sea. who in bermuda imagines that a vessel is accustomed to lay up in this secret creek? who in america would have any idea that the rich yachtsman so well known in all the eastern ports abides in the solitude of back cup mountain? twenty minutes later the dinghy returns with the four men towards the tug which was evidently waiting for them before proceeding--where? they climb on board, the little boat is made fast astern, a movement is felt, the screw revolves rapidly and the tug skims along the surface to back cup, skirting the reefs to the south. three cable's lengths further on, another tortuous canal is seen that leads to the island. into this the tug enters. when it gets close inshore, an order is given to two men who jump out and haul the dinghy up on a narrow sandy beach out of the reach of wave or weed, and where it will be easily get-at-able when wanted. this done the sailors return to the tug and engineer serko signs to me to go below. a short iron ladder leads into a central cabin where various bales and packages are stored, and for which no doubt there was not room in the hold of the schooner. i am pushed into a side cabin, the door is shut upon me, and here i am once more a prisoner in profound darkness. i recognize the cabin the moment i enter it. it is the place in which i spent so many long hours after our abduction from healthful house, and in which i was confined until well out at sea off pamlico sound. it is evident that thomas roch has been placed in a similar compartment. a loud noise is heard, the banging of the lid as it closes, and the tug begins to sink as the water is admitted to the tanks. this movement is succeeded by another--a movement that impels the boat through the water. three minutes later it stops, and i feel that we are rising to the surface again. another noise made by the lid being raised. the door of my cabin opens, and i rush out and clamber on to the platform. i look around and find that the tug has penetrated to the interior of back cup mountain. this is the mysterious retreat where count d'artigas lives with his companions--out of the world, so to speak. chapter ix. inside back cup. the next morning i am able to make a first inspection of the vast cavern of back cup. no one seeks to prevent me. what a night i have passed! what strange visions i have seen! with what impatience i waited for morning! i was conducted to a grotto about a hundred paces from the edge of the lake where the tug stopped. the grotto, twelve feet by ten, was lighted by an incandescent lamp, and fitted with an entrance door that was closed upon me. i am not surprised that electricity is employed in lighting the interior of the cavern, as it is also used in the submarine boat. but where is it generated? where does it come from? is there a manufactory installed somewhere or other in this vast crypt, with machinery, dynamos and accumulators? my cell is neatly furnished with a table on which provisions are spread, a bunk with bedding, a basket chair, a wash-hand-stand with toilet set, and a closet containing linen and various suits of clothes. in a drawer of the table i find paper, ink and pens. my dinner consists of fresh fish, preserved meat, bread of excellent quality, ale and whisky; but i am so excited that i scarcely touch it. yet i feel that i ought to fortify myself and recover my calmness of mind. i must and will solve the mystery surrounding the handful of men who burrow in the bowels of this island. so it is under the carapace of back cup that count d'artigas has established himself! this cavity, the existence of which is not even suspected, is his home when he is not sailing in the _ebba_ along the coasts of the new world or the old. this is the unknown retreat he has discovered, to which access is obtained by a submarine passage twelve or fifteen feet below the surface of the ocean. why has he severed himself from the world? what has been his past? if, as i suspect, this name of d'artigas and this title of count are assumed, what motive has he for hiding his identity? has he been banished, is he an outcast of society that he should have selected this place above all others? am i not in the power of an evildoer anxious to ensure impunity for his crimes and to defy the law by seeking refuge in this undiscoverable burrow? i have the right of supposing anything in the case of this suspicious foreigner, and i exercise it. then the question to which i have never been able to suggest a satisfactory answer once more surges into my mind. why was thomas roch abducted from healthful house in the manner already fully described? does the count d'artigas hope to force from him the secret of his fulgurator with a view to utilizing it for the defence of back cup in case his retreat should by chance be discovered? hardly. it would be easy enough to starve the gang out of back cup, by preventing the tug from supplying them with provisions. on the other hand, the schooner could never break through the investing lines, and if she did her description would be known in every port. in this event, of what possible use would thomas roch's invention be to the count d'artigas decidedly, i cannot understand it! about seven o'clock in the morning i jump out of bed. if i am a prisoner in the cavern i am at least not imprisoned in my grotto cell. the door yields when i turn the handle and push against it, and i walk out. thirty yards in front of me is a rocky plane, forming a sort of quay that extends to right and left. several sailors of the _ebba_ are engaged in landing bales and stores from the interior of the tug, which lays alongside a little stone jetty. a dim light to which my eyes soon grow accustomed envelops the cavern and comes from a hole in the centre of the roof, through which the blue sky can be seen. "it is from that hole that the smoke which can be seen for such a distance issues," i say to myself, and this discovery suggests a whole series of reflections. back cup, then, is not a volcano, as was supposed--as i supposed myself. the flames that were seen a few years ago, and the columns of smoke that still rise were and are produced artificially. the detonations and rumblings that so alarmed the bermudan fishers were not caused by the internal workings of nature. these various phenomena were fictitious. they manifested themselves at the mere will of the owner of the island, who wanted to scare away the inhabitants who resided on the coast. he succeeded, this count d'artigas, and remains the sole and undisputed monarch of the mountain. by exploding gunpowder, and burning seaweed swept up in inexhaustible quantities by the ocean, he has been able to simulate a volcano upon the point of eruption and effectually scare would-be settlers away! the light becomes stronger as the sun rises higher, the daylight streams through the fictitious crater, and i shall soon be able to estimate the cavern's dimensions. this is how i calculate: exteriorly the island of back cup, which is as nearly as possible circular, measures two hundred and fifty yards in circumference, and presents an interior superficies of about six acres. the sides of the mountain at its base vary in thickness from thirty to a hundred yards. it therefore follows that this excavation practically occupies the whole of that part of back cup island which appears above water. as to the length of the submarine tunnel by which communication is obtained with the outside, and through which the tug passed, i estimate that it is fifty yards in length. the size of the cavern can be judged from these approximate figures. but vast as it is, i remember that there are caverns of larger dimensions both in the old and new worlds. for instance in carniole, northumberland, derbyshire, piedmont, the balearics, hungary and california are larger grottoes than back cup, and those at han-sur-lesse in belgium, and the mammoth caves in kentucky, are also more extensive. the latter contain no fewer than two hundred and twenty-six domes, seven rivers, eight cataracts, thirty two wells of unknown depth, and an immense lake which extends over six or seven leagues, the limit of which has never been reached by explorers. i know these kentucky grottoes, having visited them, as many thousands of tourists have done. the principal one will serve as a comparison to back cup. the roof of the former, like that of the latter, is supported by pillars of various lengths, which give it the appearance of a gothic cathedral, with naves and aisles, though it lacks the architectural regularity of a religious edifice. the only difference is that whereas the roof of the kentucky grotto is over four hundred feet high, that of back cup is not above two hundred and twenty at that part of it where the round hole through which issue the smoke and flames is situated. another peculiarity, and a very important one, that requires to be pointed out, is that whereas the majority of the grottoes referred to are easily accessible, and were therefore bound to be discovered some time or other, the same remark does not apply to back cup. although it is marked on the map as an island forming part of the bermuda group, how could any one imagine that it is hollow, that its rocky sides are only the walls of an enormous cavern? in order to make such a discovery it would be necessary to get inside, and to get inside a submarine apparatus similar to that of the count d'artigas would be necessary. in my opinion this strange yachtsman's discovery of the tunnel by which he has been able to found this disquieting colony of back cup must have been due to pure chance. now i turn my attention to the lake and observe that it is a very small one, measuring not more than four hundred yards in circumference. it is, properly speaking, a lagoon, the rocky sides of which are perpendicular. it is large enough for the tug to work about in it, and holds enough water too, for it must be one hundred and twenty-five feet deep. it goes without saying that this crypt, given its position and structure, belongs to the category of those which are due to the encroachments of the sea. it is at once of neptunian and plutonian origin, like the grottoes of crozon and morgate in the bay of douarnenez in france, of bonifacio on the corsican coast, thorgatten in norway, the height of which is estimated at over three hundred feet, the catavaults of greece, the grottoes of gibraltar in spain, and tourana in cochin china, whose carapace indicates that they are all the product of this dual geological labor. the islet of back cup is in great part formed of calcareous rocks, which slope upwards gently from the lagoon towards the sides and are separated from each other by narrow beaches of fine sand. thick layers of seaweed that have been swept through the tunnel by the tide and thrown up around the lake have been piled into heaps, some of which are dry and some still wet, but all of which exhale the strong odor of the briny ocean. this, however, is not the only combustible employed by the inhabitants of back cup, for i see an enormous store of coal that must have been brought by the schooner and the tug. but it is the incineration of masses of dried seaweed that causes the smoke vomited forth by the crater of the mountain. continuing my walk i perceive on the northern side of the lagoon the habitations of this colony of troglodytes--do they not merit the appellation? this part of the cavern, which is known as the beehive, fully justifies its name, for it is honeycombed by cells excavated in the limestone rock and in which these human bees--or perhaps they should rather be called wasps--reside. the lay of the cavern to the east is very different. here hundreds of pillars of all shapes rise to the dome, and form a veritable forest of stone trees through the sinuous avenues of which one can thread one's way to the extreme limit of the place. by counting the cells of the beehive i calculate that count d'artigas' companions number from eighty to one hundred. as my eye wanders over the place i notice that the count is standing in front of one of the cells, which is isolated from the others, and talking to engineer serko and captain spade. after a while they stroll down to the jetty alongside which the tug is lying. a dozen men have been emptying the merchandise out of the tug and transporting the goods in boats to the other side, where great cellars have been excavated in the rocks and form the storehouses of the band. the orifice of the tunnel is not visible in the waters of the lagoon, and i remember that when i was brought here i felt the tug sink several feet before it entered. in this respect therefore back cup does not resemble either the grottoes of staffa or morgate, entrance to which is always open, even at high tide. there may be another passage communicating with the coast, either natural or artificial, and this i shall have to make my business to find out. the island well merits its name of back cup. it is indeed a gigantic cup turned upside down, not only to outward appearance, but inwardly, too, though people are ignorant of the fact. i have already remarked that the beehive is situated to the north of the lagoon, that is to say to the left on entering by the tunnel. on the opposite side are the storerooms filled with provisions of all kinds, bales of merchandise, barrels of wine, beer, and spirits and various packets bearing different marks and labels that show that they came from all parts of the world. one would think that the cargoes of a score of ships had been landed here. a little farther on is a large wooden shed the nature of which is easily distinguishable. from a pole above it a network of thick copper wires extends which conducts the current to the powerful electric lights suspended from the roof or dome, and to the incandescent lamps in each of the cells of the hive. a large number of lamps are also installed among the stone pillars and light up the avenues to their extremities. "shall i be permitted to roam about wherever i please?" i ask myself. i hope so. i cannot for the life of me see why the count d'artigas should prohibit me from doing so, for i cannot get farther than the surrounding walls of his mysterious domain. i question whether there is any other issue than the tunnel, and how on earth could i get through that? besides, admitting that i am able to get through it, i cannot get off the island. my disappearance would be soon noticed, and the tug would take out a dozen men who would explore every nook and cranny. i should inevitably be recaptured, brought back to the beehive, and deprived of my liberty for good. i must therefore give up all idea of making my escape, unless i can see that it has some chance of being successful, and if ever an opportunity does present itself i shall not be slow to take advantage of it. on strolling round by the rows of cells i am able to observe a few of these companions of the count d'artigas who are content to pass their monotonous existence in the depths of back cup. as i said before, calculating from the number of cells in the beehive, there must be between eighty and a hundred of them. they pay no attention whatever to me as i pass, and on examining them closely it seems to me that they must have been recruited from every country. i do not distinguish any community of origin among them, not even a similarity by which they might be classed as north americans, europeans or asiatics. the color of their skin shades from white to yellow and black--the black peculiar to australia rather than to africa. to sum up, they appear for the most part to pertain to the malay races. i may add that the count d'artigas certainly belongs to that particular race which peoples the dutch isles in the west pacific, while engineer serko must be levantine and captain spade of italian origin. but if the inhabitants of back cup are not bound to each other by ties of race, they certainly are by instinct and inclination. what forbidding, savage-looking faces they have, to be sure! they are men of violent character who have probably never placed any restraint upon their passions, nor hesitated at anything, and it occurs to me that in all likelihood they have sought refuge in this cavern, where they fancy they can continue to defy the law with impunity, after a long series of crimes--robbery, murder, arson, and excesses of all descriptions committed together. in this case back cup is nothing but a lair of pirates, the count d'artigas is the leader of the band and serko and spade are his lieutenants. i cannot get this idea out of my head, and the more i consider the more convinced i am that i am right, especially as everything i see during my stroll about the cavern seems to confirm my opinion. however this may be, and whatever may be the circumstances that have brought them together in this place, count d'artigas' companions appear to accept his all-powerful domination without question. on the other hand, if he keeps them under his iron heel by enforcing the severest discipline, certain advantages, some compensation, must accrue from the servitude to which they bow. what can this compensation be? having turned that part of the bank under which the tunnel passes, i find myself on the opposite side of the lagoon, where are situated the storerooms containing the merchandise brought by the _ebba_ on each trip, and which contain a great quantity of bales. beyond is the manufactory of electric energy. i gaze in at the windows as i pass and notice that it contains machines of the latest invention and highest attained perfection, which take up little space. not one steam engine, with its more or less complicated mechanism and need of fuel, is to be seen in the place. as i had surmised, piles of extraordinary power supply the current to the lamps in the cavern, as well as to the dynamos of the tug. no doubt the current is also utilized for domestic purposes, such as warming the beehive and cooking food, i can see that in a neighboring cavity it is applied to the alembics used to produce fresh water. at any rate the colonists of back cup are not reduced to catching the rain water that falls so abundantly upon the exterior of the mountain. a few paces from the electric power house is a large cistern that, save in the matter of proportions, is the counterpart of those i visited in bermuda. in the latter place the cisterns have to supply the needs of over ten thousand people, this one of a hundred--what? i am not sure yet what to call them. that their chief had serious reasons for choosing the bowels of this island for his abiding place is obvious. but what were those reasons? i can understand monks shutting themselves behind their monastery walls with the intention of separating themselves from the world, but these subjects of the count d'artigas have nothing of the monk about them, and would not be mistaken for such by the most simple-minded of mortals. i continue my way through the pillars to the extremity of the cavern. no one has sought to stop me, no one has spoken to me, not a soul apparently has taken the very slightest notice of me. this portion of back cup is extremely curious, and comparable to the most marvellous of the grottoes of kentucky or the balearics. i need hardly say that nowhere is the labor of man apparent. all this is the handiwork of nature, and it is not without wonder, mingled with awe, that i reflect upon the telluric forces capable of engendering such prodigious substructions. the daylight from the crater in the centre only strikes this part of the cavern obliquely, so that it is very imperfectly lighted, but at night, when illuminated by the electric lamps, its aspect must be positively fantastic. i have examined the walls everywhere with minute attention, but have been unable to discover any means of communicating with the outside. quite a colony of birds--gulls, sea-swallows and other feathery denizens of the bermudan beaches have made their home in the cavern. they have apparently never been hunted, for they are in no way disturbed by the presence of man. but besides sea-birds, which are free to come and go as they please by the orifice in the dome, there is a whole farmyard of domestic poultry, and cows and pigs. the food supply is therefore no less assured than it is varied, when the fish of all kinds that abound in the lagoon and around the island are taken into consideration. moreover, a mere glance at the colonists of back cup amply suffices to show that they are not accustomed to fare scantily. they are all vigorous, robust seafaring men, weatherbeaten and seasoned in the burning beat of tropical latitudes, whose rich blood is surcharged with oxygen by the breezes of the ocean. there is not a youth nor an old man among them. they are all in their prime, their ages ranging from thirty to fifty. but why do they submit to such an existence? do they never leave their rocky retreat? perhaps i shall find out ere i am much older. chapter x. ker karraje. the cell in which i reside is about a hundred paces from the habitation of the count d'artigas, which is one of the end ones of this row of the beehive. if i am not to share it with thomas roch, i presume the latter's cell is not far off, for in order that warder gaydon may continue to care for the ex-patient of healthful house, their respective apartments will have to be contiguous. however, i suppose i shall soon be enlightened on this point. captain spade and engineer serko reside separately in proximity to d'artigas' mansion. mansion? yes, why not dignify it with the title since this habitation has been arranged with a certain art? skillful hands have carved an ornamental façade in the rock. a large door affords access to it. colored glass windows in wooden frames let into the limestone walls admit the light. the interior comprises several chambers, a dining-room and a drawing-room lighted by a stained-glass window, the whole being perfectly ventilated. the furniture is of various styles and shapes and of french, english and american make. the kitchen, larder, etc., are in adjoining cells in rear of the beehive. in the afternoon, just as i issue from my cell with the firm intention of "obtaining an audience" of the count d'artigas, i catch sight of him coming along the shore of the lagoon towards the hive. either he does not see me, or wishes to avoid me, for he quickens his steps and i am unable to catch him. "well, he will have to receive me, anyhow!" i mutter to myself. i hurry up to the door through which he has just disappeared and which has closed behind him. it is guarded by a gigantic, dark-skinned malay, who orders me away in no amiable tone of voice. i decline to comply with his injunction, and repeat to him twice the following request in my very best english: "tell the count d'artigas that i desire to be received immediately." i might just as well have addressed myself to the surrounding rock. this savage, no doubt, does not understand a word of english, for he scowls at me and orders me away again with a menacing cry. i have a good mind to attempt to force the door and shout so that the count d'artigas cannot fail to hear me, but in all probability i shall only succeed in rousing the wrath of the malay, who appears to be endowed with herculean strength. i therefore judge discretion to be the better part of valor, and put off the explanation that is owing to me--and which, sooner or later, i will have--to a more propitious occasion. i meander off in front of the beehive towards the east, and my thoughts revert to thomas roch. i am surprised that i have not seen him yet. can he be in the throes of a fresh paroxysm? this hypothesis is hardly admissible, for if the count d'artigas is to be believed, he would in this event have summoned me to attend to the inventor. a little farther on i encounter engineer serko. with his inviting manner and usual good-humor this ironical individual smiles when he perceives me, and does not seek to avoid me. if he knew i was a colleague, an engineer--providing he himself really is one--perhaps he might receive me with more cordiality than i have yet encountered, but i am not going to be such a fool as to tell him who and what i am. he stops, with laughing eyes and mocking mouth, and accompanies a "good day, how do you do?" with a gracious gesture of salutation. i respond coldly to his politeness--a fact which he affects not to notice. "may saint jonathan protect you, mr. gaydon!" he continues in his clear, ringing voice. "you are not, i presume, disposed to regret the fortunate circumstance by which you were permitted to visit this surpassingly marvellous cavern--and it really is one of the finest, although the least known on this spheroid." this word of a scientific language used in conversation with a simple hospital attendant surprises me, i admit, and i merely reply: "i should have no reason to complain, mr. serko, if, after having had the pleasure of visiting this cavern, i were at liberty to quit it." "what! already thinking of leaving us, mr. gaydon,--of returning to your dismal pavilion at healthful house? why, you have scarcely had time to explore our magnificent domain, or to admire the incomparable beauty with which nature has endowed it." "what i have seen suffices," i answer; "and should you perchance be talking seriously i will assure you seriously that i do not want to see any more of it." "come, now, mr. gaydon, permit me to point out that you have not yet had the opportunity of appreciating the advantages of an existence passed in such unrivalled surroundings. it is a quiet life, exempt from care, with an assured future, material conditions such as are not to be met with anywhere, an even climate and no more to fear from the tempests which desolate the coasts in this part of the atlantic than from the cold of winter, or the heat of summer. this temperate and salubrious atmosphere is scarcely affected by changes of season. here we have no need to apprehend the wrath of either pluto or neptune." "sir," i reply, "it is impossible that this climate can suit you, that you can appreciate living in this grotto of----" i was on the point of pronouncing the name of back cup. fortunately i restrained myself in time. what would happen if they suspected that i am aware of the name of their island, and, consequently, of its position at the extremity of the bermuda group? "however," i continue, "if this climate does not suit me, i have, i presume, the right to make a change." "the right, of course." "i understand from your remark that i shall be furnished with the means of returning to america when i want to go?" "i have no reason for opposing your desires, mr. gaydon," engineer serko replies, "and i regard your presumption as a very natural one. observe, however, that we live here in a noble and superb independence, that we acknowledge the authority of no foreign power, that we are subject to no outside authority, that we are the colonists of no state, either of the old or new world. this is worth consideration by whomsoever has a sense of pride and independence. besides, what memories are evoked in a cultivated mind by these grottoes which seem to have been chiselled by the hands of the gods and in which they were wont to render their oracles by the mouth of trophonius." decidedly, engineer serko is fond of citing mythology! trophonius after pluto and neptune? does he imagine that warder gaydon ever heard of trophonius? it is clear this mocker continues to mock, and i have to exercise the greatest patience in order not to reply in the same tone. "a moment ago," i continue shortly, "i wanted to enter yon habitation, which, if i mistake not, is that of the count d'artigas, but i was prevented." "by whom, mr. gaydon?" "by a man in the count's employ." "he probably had received strict orders about it." "possibly, yet whether he likes it or not, count d'artigas will have to see me and listen to me." "maybe it would be difficult, and even impossible to get him to do so," says engineer serko with a smile. "why so?" "because there is no such person as count d'artigas here." "you are jesting, i presume; i have just seen him." "it was not the count d'artigas whom you saw, mr. gaydon." "who was it then, may i ask?" "the pirate ker karraje." this name was thrown at me in a hard tone of voice, and engineer serko walked off before i had presence of mind enough to detain him. the pirate ker karraje! yes, this name is a revelation to me. i know it well, and what memories it evokes! it by itself explains what has hitherto been inexplicable to me. i now know into whose hands i have fallen. with what i already knew, with what i have learned since my arrival in back cup from engineer serko, this is what i am able to tell about the past and present of ker karraje: eight or nine years ago, the west pacific was infested by pirates who acted with the greatest audacity. a band of criminals of various origins, composed of escaped convicts, military and naval deserters, etc., operated with incredible audacity under the orders of a redoubtable chief. the nucleus of the band had been formed by men pertaining to the scum of europe who had been attracted to new south wales, in australia, by the discovery of gold there. among these gold-diggers, were captain spade and engineer serko, two outcasts, whom a certain community of ideas and character soon bound together in close friendship. these intelligent, well educated, resolute men would most assuredly have succeeded in any career. but being without conscience or scruples, and determined to get rich at no matter what cost, deriving from gambling and speculation what they might have earned by patient and steady work, they engaged in all sorts of impossible adventures. one day they were rich, the next day poor, like most of the questionable individuals who had hurried to the gold-fields in search of fortune. among the diggers in new south wales was a man of incomparable audacity, one of those men who stick at nothing--not even at crime--and whose influence upon bad and violent natures is irresistible. that man's name was ker karraje. the origin or nationality or antecedents of this pirate were never established by the investigations ordered in regard to him. he eluded all pursuit, and his name--or at least the name he gave himself--was known all over the world, and inspired horror and terror everywhere, as being that of a legendary personage, a bogey, invisible and unseizable. i have now reason to believe that ker karraje is a malay. however, it is of little consequence, after all. what is certain is that he was with reason regarded as a formidable and dangerous villain who had many crimes, committed in distant seas, to answer for. after spending a few years on the australian goldfields, where he made the acquaintance of engineer serko and captain spade, ker karraje managed to seize a ship in the port of melbourne, in the province of victoria. he was joined by about thirty rascals whose number was speedily tripled. in that part of the pacific ocean where piracy is still carried on with great facility, and i may say, profit, the number of ships pillaged, crews massacred, and raids committed in certain western islands which the colonists were unable to defend, cannot be estimated. although the whereabouts of ker karraje's vessel, commanded by captain spade, was several times made known to the authorities, all attempts to capture it proved futile. the marauder would disappear among the innumerable islands of which he knew every cove and creek, and it was impossible to come across him. he maintained a perfect reign of terror. england, france, germany, russia and america vainly dispatched warships in pursuit of the phantom vessel which disappeared, no one knew whither, after robberies and murders that could not be prevented or punished had been committed by her crew. one day this series of crimes came to an end, and no more was heard of ker karraje. had he abandoned the pacific for other seas? would this pirate break out in a fresh place? it was argued that notwithstanding what they must have spent in orgies and debauchery the pirate and his companions must still have an enormous amount of wealth hidden in some place known only to themselves, and that they were enjoying their ill-gotten gains. where had the band hidden themselves since they had ceased their depredations? this was a question which everybody asked and none was able to answer. all attempts to run them to earth were vain. terror and uneasiness having ceased with the danger, ker karraje's exploits soon began to be forgotten, even in the west pacific. this is what had happened--and what will never be known unless i succeed in escaping from back cup: these wretches were, as a matter of fact, possessed of great wealth when they abandoned the southern seas. having destroyed their ship they dispersed in different directions after having arranged to meet on the american continent. engineer serko, who was well versed in his profession, and was a clever mechanic to boot, and who had made a special study of submarine craft, proposed to ker karraje that they should construct one of these boats in order to continue their criminal exploits with greater secrecy and effectiveness. ker karraje at once saw the practical nature of the proposition, and as they had no lack of money the idea was soon carried out. while the so-called count d'artigas ordered the construction of the schooner _ebba_ at the shipyards of gotteborg, in sweden, he gave to the cramps of philadelphia, in america, the plans of a submarine boat whose construction excited no suspicion. besides, as will be seen, it soon disappeared and was never heard of again. the boat was constructed from a model and under the personal supervision of engineer serko, and fitted with all the known appliances of nautical science. the screw was worked with electric piles of recent invention which imparted enormous propulsive power to the motor. it goes without saying that no one imagined that count d'artigas was none other than ker karraje, the former pirate of the pacific, and that engineer serko was the most formidable and resolute of his accomplices. the former was regarded as a foreigner of noble birth and great fortune, who for several months had been frequenting the ports of the united states, the _ebba_ having been launched long before the tug was ready. work upon the latter occupied fully eighteen months, and when the boat was finished it excited the admiration of all those interested in these engines of submarine navigation. by its external form, its interior arrangements, its air-supply system, the rapidity with which it could be immersed, the facility with which it could be handled and controlled, and its extraordinary speed, it was conceded to be far superior to the _goubet,_ the _gymnote_, the _zede_, and other similar boats which had made great strides towards perfection. after several extremely successful experiments a public test was given in the open sea, four miles off charleston, in presence of several american and foreign warships, merchant vessels, and pleasure boats invited for the occasion. of course the _ebba_ was among them, with the count d'artigas, engineer serko, and captain spade on board, and the old crew as well, save half a dozen men who manned the submarine machine, which was worked by a mechanical engineer named gibson, a bold and very clever englishman. the programme of this definite experiment comprised various evolutions on the surface of the water, which were to be followed by an immersion to last several hours, the boat being ordered not to rise again until a certain buoy stationed many miles out at sea had been attained. at the appointed time the lid was closed and the boat at first manoeuvred on the surface. her speed and the ease with which she turned and twisted were loudly praised by all the technical spectators. then at a signal given on board the _ebba_ the tug sank slowly out of sight, and several vessels started for the buoy where she was to reappear. three hours went by, but there was no sign of the boat. no one could suppose that in accordance with instructions received from the count d'artigas and engineer serko this submarine machine, which was destined to act as the invisible tug of the schooner, would not emerge till it had gone several miles beyond the rendezvous. therefore, with the exception of those who were in the secret, no one entertained any doubt that the boat and all inside her had perished as the result of an accident either to her metallic covering or machinery. on board the _ebba_ consternation was admirably simulated. on board the other vessels it was real. drags were used and divers sent down along the course the boat was supposed to have taken, but it could not be found, and it was agreed that it had been swallowed up in the depths of the atlantic. two days later the count d'artigas put to sea again, and in forty-eight hours came up with the tug at the place appointed. this is how ker karraje became possessed of the admirable vessel which was to perform the double function of towing the schooner and attacking ships. with this terrible engine of destruction, whose very existence was ignored, the count d'artigas was able to recommence his career of piracy with security and impunity. these details i have learned from engineer serko, who is very proud of his handiwork,--and also very positive that the prisoner of back cup will never be able to disclose the secret. it will easily be realized how powerful was the offensive weapon ker karraje now possessed. during the night the tug would rush at a merchant vessel, and bore a hole in her with its powerful ram. at the same time the schooner which could not possibly have excited any suspicion, would run alongside and her horde of cutthroats would pour on to the doomed vessel's deck and massacre the helpless crew, after which they would hurriedly transfer that part of the cargo that was worth taking to the _ebba_. thus it happened that ship after ship was added to the long list of those that never reached port and were classed as having gone down with all on board. for a year after the odious comedy in the bay of charleston ker karraje operated in the atlantic, and his wealth increased to enormous proportions. the merchandise for which he had no use was disposed of in distant markets in exchange for gold and silver. but what was sadly needed was a place where the profits could be safely hidden pending the time when they were to be finally divided. chance came to their aid. while exploring the bottom of the sea in the neighborhood of the bermudas, engineer serko and driver gibson discovered at the base of back cup island the tunnel which led to the interior of the mountain. would it have been possible for ker karraje to have found a more admirable refuge than this, absolutely safe as it was from any possible chance of discovery? thus it came to pass that one of the islands of the archipelago of bermuda, erstwhile the haunt of buccaneers, became the lair of another gang a good deal more to be dreaded. this retreat having been definitely adopted, count d'artigas and his companions set about getting their place in order. engineer serko installed an electric power house, without having recourse to machines whose construction abroad might have aroused suspicion, simply employing piles that could be easily mounted and required but metal plates and chemical substances that the _ebba_ procured during her visits to the american coast. what happened on the night of the th inst. can easily be divined. if the three-masted merchantman which lay becalmed was not visible at break of day it was because she had been scuttled by the tug, boarded by the cut-throat band on the _ebba_, and sunk with all on board after being pillaged. the bales and things that i had seen on the schooner were a part of her cargo, and all unknown to me the gallant ship was lying at the bottom of the broad atlantic! how will this adventure end? shall i ever be able to escape from back cup, denounce the false count d'artigas and rid the seas of ker karraje's pirates? and if ker karraje is terrible as it is, how much more so will he become if he ever obtains possession of roch's fulgurator! his power will be increased a hundred-fold! if he were able to employ this new engine of destruction no merchantman could resist him, no warship escape total destruction. i remain for some time absorbed and oppressed by the reflections with which the revelation of ker karraje's name inspires me. all that i have ever heard about this famous pirate recurs to me--his existence when he skimmed the southern seas, the useless expeditions organized by the maritime powers to hunt him down. the unaccountable loss of so many vessels in the atlantic during the past few years is attributable to him. he had merely changed the scene of his exploits. it was supposed that he had been got rid of, whereas he is continuing his piratical practices in the most frequented ocean on the globe, by means of the tug which is believed to be lying at the bottom of charleston bay. "now," i say to myself, "i know his real name and that of his lair--ker karraje and back cup;" and i surmise that if engineer serko has let me into the secret he must have been authorized to do so. am i not meant to understand from this that i must give up all hope of ever recovering my liberty? engineer serko had manifestly remarked the impression created upon me by this revelation. i remember that on leaving me he went towards ker karraje's habitation, no doubt with the intention of apprising him of what had passed. after a rather long walk around the lagoon i am about to return to my cell, when i hear footsteps behind me. i turn and find myself face to face with the count d'artigas, who is accompanied by captain spade. he glances at me sharply, and in a burst of irritation that i cannot suppress, i exclaim: "you are keeping me here, sir, against all right. if it was to wait upon thomas roch that you carried me off from healthful house, i refuse to attend to him, and insist upon being sent back." the pirate chief makes a gesture, but does not reply. then my temper gets the better of me altogether. "answer me, count d'artigas--or rather, for i know who you are--answer me, ker karraje!" i shout. "the count d'artigas is ker karraje," he coolly replies, "just as warder gaydon is engineer simon hart; and ker karraje will never restore to liberty engineer simon hart, who knows his secrets." chapter xi. five weeks in back cup. the situation is plain. ker karraje knows who i am. he knew who i was when he kidnapped thomas roch and his attendant. how did this man manage to find out what i was able to keep from the staff of healthful house? how comes it that he knew that a french engineer was performing the duties of attendant to thomas roch? i do not know how he discovered it, but the fact remains that he did. evidently he had means of information which must have been costly, but from which he has derived considerable profit. besides, men of his kidney do not count the cost when they wish to attain an end they have in view. henceforward ker karraje, or rather engineer serko, will replace me as attendant upon thomas roch. will he succeed better than i did? god grant that he may not, that the civilized world may be spared such a misfortune! i did not reply to ker karraje's parthian shot, for i was stricken dumb. i did not, however, collapse, as the alleged count d'artigas perhaps expected i would. no! i looked him straight in the eyes, which glittered angrily, and crossed my arms defiantly, as he had done. and yet he held my life in his hands! at a sign a bullet would have laid me dead at his feet. then my body, cast into the lagoon, would have been borne out to sea through the tunnel and there would have been an end of me. after this scene i am left at liberty, just as before. no measure is taken against me, i can walk among the pillars to the very end of the cavern, which--it is only too clear--possesses no other issue except the tunnel. when i return to my cell, at the extremity of the beehive, a prey to a thousand thoughts suggested by my situation, i say to myself: "if ker karraje knows i am simon hart, the engineer, he must at any rate never know that i am aware of the position of back cup island." as to the plan of confiding thomas roch to my care, i do not think he ever seriously entertained it, seeing that my identity had been revealed to him. i regret this, inasmuch as the inventor will indubitably be the object of pressing solicitations, and as engineer serko will employ every means in his power to obtain the composition of the explosive and deflagrator, of which he will make such detestable use during future piratical exploits. yes, it would have been far better if i could have remained thomas roch's keeper here, as in healthful house. for fifteen days i see nothing of my late charge. no one, i repeat, has placed any obstacles in the way of my daily peregrinations. i have no need to occupy myself about the material part of my existence. my meals are brought to me regularly, direct from the kitchen of the count d'artigas--i cannot accustom myself to calling him by any other name. the food leaves nothing to be desired, thanks to the provisions that the _ebba_ brings on her return from each voyage. it is very fortunate, too, that i have been supplied with all the writing materials i require, for during my long hours of idleness i have been able to jot down in my notebook the slightest incidents that have occurred since i was abducted from healthful house, and to keep a diary day by day. as long as i am permitted to use a pen i shall continue my notes. mayhap some day, they will help to clear up the mysteries of back cup. _from july to july ._--a fortnight has passed, and all my attempts to get near thomas roch have been frustrated. orders have evidently been given to keep him away from my influence, inefficacious though the latter has hitherto been. my only hope is that the count d'artigas, engineer serko, and captain spade will waste their time trying to get at the inventor's secrets. three or four times to my knowledge, at least, thomas roch and engineer serko have walked together around the lagoon. as far as i have been able to judge, the former listened with some attention to what the other was saying to him. serko has conducted him over the whole cavern, shown him the electric power house and the mechanism of the tug. thomas roch's mental condition has visibly improved since his departure from healthful house. thomas roch lives in a private room in ker karraje's "mansion." i have no doubt that he is daily sounded in regard to his discoveries, especially by engineer serko. will he be able to resist the temptation if they offer him the exorbitant price that he demands? has he any idea of the value of money? these wretches may dazzle him with the gold that they have accumulated by years of rapine. in the present state of his mind may he not be induced to disclose the composition of his fulgurator? they would then only have to fetch the necessary substances and thomas roch would have plenty of time in back cup to devote to his chemical combinations. as to the war-engines themselves nothing would be easier than to have them made in sections in different parts of the american continent. my hair stands on end when i think what they could and would do with them if once they gained possession of them. these intolerable apprehensions no longer leave me a minute's peace; they are wearing me out and my health is suffering in consequence. although the air in the interior of back cup is pure, i become subject to attacks of suffocation, and i feel as though my prison walls were falling upon me and crushing me under their weight. i am, besides, oppressed by the feeling that i am cut off from the world, as effectually as though i were no longer upon our planet,--for i know nothing of what is going on outside. ah! if it were only possible to escape through that submarine tunnel, or through the hole in the dome and slide to the base of the mountain! on the morning of the th i at last encounter thomas roch. he is alone on the other side of the lagoon, and i wonder, inasmuch as i have not seen them since the previous day, whether ker karraje, engineer serko, and captain spade have not gone off on some expedition. i walk round towards thomas roch, and before he can see me i examine him attentively. his serious, thoughtful physiognomy is no longer that of a madman. he walks slowly, with his eyes bent on the ground, and under his arm a drawing-board upon which is stretched a sheet of paper covered with designs. suddenly he raises his head, advances a step and recognizes me. "ah! gaydon, it is you, is it?" he cries, "i have then escaped from you! i am free!" he can, indeed, regard himself as being free--a good deal more at liberty in back cup than he was in healthful house. but maybe my presence evokes unpleasant memories, and will bring on another fit, for he continues with extraordinary animation: "yes, i know you, gaydon.--do not approach me! stand off! stand off! you would like to get me back in your clutches, incarcerate me again in your dungeon! never! i have friends here who will protect me. they are powerful, they are rich. the count d'artigas is my backer and engineer serko is my partner. we are going to exploit my invention! we are going to make my fulgurator! hence! get you gone!" thomas roch is in a perfect fury. he raises his voice, agitates his arms, and finally pulls from his pockets many rolls of dollar bills and banknotes, and handfuls of english, french, american and german gold coins, which slip through his fingers and roll about the cavern. how could he get all this money except from ker karraje, and as the price of his secret? the noise he makes attracts a number of men to the scene. they watch us for a moment, then seize thomas roch and drag him away. as soon as i am out of his sight he ceases-to struggle and becomes calm again. _july ._--two hours after meeting with thomas roch, i went down to the lagoon and walked out to the edge of the stone jetty. the tug is not moored in its accustomed place, nor can i see it anywhere about the lake. ker karraje and engineer serko had not gone yesterday, as i supposed, for i saw them in the evening. to-day, however, i have reason to believe that they really have gone away in the tug with captain spade and the crew of the _ebba_, and that the latter must be sailing away. have they set out on a piracy expedition? very likely. it is equally likely that ker karraje, become once more the count d'artigas, travelling for pleasure on board his yacht, intends to put into some port on the american coast to procure the substances necessary to the preparation of roch's fulgurator. ah! if it had only been possible for me to hide in the tug, to slip into the _ebba's_ hold, and stow myself away there until the schooner arrived in port! then perchance i might have escaped and delivered the world from this band of pirates. it will be seen how tenaciously i cling to the thought of escape--of fleeing--fleeing at any cost from this lair. but flight is impossible, except through the tunnel, by means of a submarine boat. is it not folly to think of such a thing? sheer folly, and yet what other way is there of getting out of back cup? while i give myself up to these reflections the water of the lagoon opens a few yards from me and the tug appears. the lid is raised and gibson, the engineer, and the men issue on to the platform. other men come up and catch the line that is thrown to them. they haul upon it, and the tug is soon moored in its accustomed place. this time, therefore, at any rate, the schooner is not being towed, and the tug merely went out to put ker karraje and his companions aboard the _ebba_. this only confirms my impression that the sole object of their trip is to reach an american port where the count d'artigas can procure the materials for making the explosive, and order the machines in some foundry. on the day fixed for their return the tug will go out through the tunnel again to meet the schooner and ker karraje will return to back cup. decidedly, this evildoer is carrying out his designs and has succeeded sooner than i thought would be possible. _august ._--an incident occurred to-day of which the lagoon was the theatre--a very curious incident that must be exceedingly rare. towards three o'clock in the afternoon there was a prodigious bubbling in the water, which ceased for a minute or two and then recommenced in the centre of the lagoon. about fifteen pirates, whose attention had been attracted by this unaccountable phenomenon, hurried down to the bank manifesting signs of astonishment not unmingled with fear--at least i thought so. the agitation of the water was not caused by the tug, as the latter was lying alongside the jetty, and the idea that some other submarine boat had found its way through the tunnel was highly improbable. almost at the same instant cries were heard on the opposite bank. the newcomers shouted something in a hoarse voice to the men on the side where i was standing, and these immediately rushed off towards the beehive. i conjectured that they had caught sight of some sea-monster that had found its way in, and was floundering in the lagoon, and that they had rushed off to fetch arms and harpoons to try and capture it. i was right, for they speedily returned with the latter weapons and rifles loaded with explosive bullets. the monster in question was a whale, of the species that is common enough in bermudan waters, which after swimming through the tunnel was plunging about in the narrow limits of the lake. as it was constrained to take refuge in back cup i concluded that it must have been hard pressed by whalers. some minutes elapsed before the monster rose to the surface. then the green shiny mass appeared spouting furiously and darting to and fro as though fighting with some formidable enemy. "if it was driven in here by whalers," i said to myself, "there must be a vessel in proximity to back cup--peradventure within a stone's throw of it. her boats must have entered the western passes to the very foot of the mountain. and to think i am unable to communicate with them! but even if i could, i fail to see how i could go to them through these massive walls." i soon found, however, that it was not fishers, but sharks that had driven the whale through the tunnel, and which infest these waters in great numbers. i could see them plainly as they darted about, turning upon their backs and displaying their enormous mouths which were bristling with their cruel teeth. there were five or six of the monsters, and they attacked the whale with great viciousness. the latter's only means of defence was its tail, with which it lashed at them with terrific force and rapidity. but the whale had received several wounds and the water was tinged with its life-blood; for plunge and lash as it would, it could not escape the bites of its enemies. however, the voracious sharks were not permitted to vanquish their prey, for man, far more powerful with his instruments of death, was about to take a hand and snatch it from them. gathered around the lagoon were the companions of ker karraje, every whit as ferocious as the sharks themselves, and well deserving the same name, for what else are they? standing amid a group, at the extremity of the jetty, and armed with a harpoon, was the big malay who had prevented me from entering ker karraje's house. when the whale got within shot, he hurled the harpoon with great force and skill, and it sank into the leviathan's flesh just under the left fin. the whale plunged immediately, followed by the relentless sharks. the rope attached to the weapon ran out for about sixty yards, and then slackened. the men at once began to haul on it, and the monster rose to the surface again near the end of the tunnel, struggling desperately in its death agony, and spurting great columns of water tinged with blood. one blow of its tail struck a shark, and hurled it clean out of water against the rocky side, where it dropped in again, badly, if not fatally injured. the harpoon was torn from the flesh by the jerk, and the whale went under. it came up again for the last time, and lashed the water so that it washed up from the tunnel end, disclosing the top of the orifice. then the sharks again rushed on their prey, but were scared off by a hail of the explosive bullets. two men then jumped into a boat and attached a line to the dead monster. the latter was hauled into the jetty, and the malays started to cut it up with a dexterity that showed they were no novices at the work. no more sharks were to be seen, but i concluded that it would be as well to refrain from taking a bath in the lagoon for some days to come. i now know exactly where the entrance to the tunnel is situated. the orifice on this side is only ten feet below the edge of the western bank. but of what use is this knowledge to me? _august _.--twelve days have elapsed since the count d'artigas, engineer serko, and captain spade put to sea. there is nothing to indicate that their return is expected, though the tug is always kept in readiness for immediate departure by gibson, the engine-driver. if the _ebba_ is not afraid to enter the ports of the united states by day, i rather fancy she prefers to enter the rocky channel of back cup at nightfall. i also fancy, somehow, that ker karraje and his companions will return to-night. _august _.--at ten o'clock last night, as i anticipated, the tug went under and out, just in time to meet the _ebba_ and tow her through the channel to her creek, after which she returned with ker karraje and the others. when i look out this morning, i see thomas roch and engineer serko walking down to the lagoon, and talking. what they are talking about i can easily guess. i go forward and take a good look at my ex-patient. he is asking questions of engineer serko with great animation. his eyes gleam, his face is flushed, and he is all eagerness to reach the jetty. engineer serko can hardly keep up with him. the crew of the tug are unloading her, and they have just brought ashore ten medium-sized boxes. these boxes bear a peculiar red mark, which thomas roch examines closely. engineer serko orders the men to transport them to the storehouses on the left bank, and the boxes are forthwith loaded on a boat and rowed over. in my opinion, these boxes contain the substances by the combination or mixture of which, the fulgurator and deflagrator are to be made. the engines, doubtless, are being made in an american foundry, and when they are ready, the schooner will fetch them and bring them to back cup. for once in a while, anyhow, the _ebba_ has not returned with any stolen merchandise. she went out and has returned with a clear bill. but with what terrible power ker karraje will be armed for both offensive and defensive operations at sea! if thomas roch is to be credited, this fulgurator could shatter the terrestrial spheroid at one blow. and who knows but what one day, he will try the experiment? chapter xii. engineer serko's advice. thomas roch has started work and spends hours and hours in a wooden shed on the left bank of the lagoon that has been set apart as his laboratory and workshop. no one enters it except himself. does he insist upon preparing the explosive in secret and does he intend to keep the formula thereof to himself? i should not wonder. the manner of employing roch's fulgurator is, i believe, very simple indeed. the projectile in which it is used requires neither gun nor mortar to launch it, nor pneumatic tube like the zalinski shell. it is autopropulsive, it projects itself, and no ship within a certain zone when the engine explodes could escape utter destruction. with such a weapon as this at his command ker karraje would be invincible. _from august to august _.--during the past week thomas roch has been working without intermission. every morning the inventor goes to his laboratory and does not issue therefrom till night. i have made no attempt to stop him or speak to him, knowing that it would be useless to do so. although he is still indifferent to everything that does not touch upon his work he appears to be perfectly self-possessed. why should he not have recovered his reason? has he not obtained what he has so long sought for? is he not at last able to carry out the plans he formed years and years ago? _august _.--at one o'clock this morning i was roused by several detonations. "has back cup been attacked?" was my first thought. "has the schooner excited suspicion, and been chased to the entrance to the passes? is the island being bombarded with a view to its destruction? has justice at last overtaken these evil-doers ere thomas roch has been able to complete the manufacture of his explosive, and before the autopropulsive engine could be fetched from the continent?" the detonations, which are very violent, continue, succeeding each other at regular intervals, and it occurs to me that if the schooner has been destroyed, all communication with the bases of supply being impossible, back cup cannot be provisioned. it is true the tug would be able to land the count d'artigas somewhere on the american coast where, money being no object, he could easily buy or order another vessel. but no matter. if back cup is only destroyed before ker karraje has roch's fulgurator at his disposal i shall render thanks to heaven. a few hours later, at the usual time, i quit my cell. all is quiet at the beehive. the men are going about their business as usual. the tug is moored near the jetty. thomas roch is going to his laboratory, and ker karraje and engineer serko are tranquilly pacing backwards and forwards by the lake and chatting. the island therefore could not have been attacked during the night. yet i was awakened by the report of cannon, this i will swear. at this moment ker karraje goes off towards his abode and engineer serko, smilingly ironical, as usual, advances to meet me. "well, mr. simon hart," he says, "are you getting accustomed to your tranquil existence? do you appreciate at their just merit the advantages of this enchanted grotto? have you given up all hope of recovering your liberty some day or other?" what is the use of waxing wroth with this jester? i reply calmly: "no, sir. i have not given up hope, and i still expect that i shall be released." "what! mr. hart, separate ourselves from a man whom we all esteem--and i from a colleague who perhaps, in the course of thomas roch's fits of delirium, has learned some of his secrets? you are not serious!" so this is why they are keeping me a prisoner in back cup! they suppose that i am in part familiar with roch's invention, and they hope to force me to tell what i know if thomas roch refuses to give up his secret. this is the reason why i was kidnapped with him, and why i have not been accommodated with an involuntary plunge in the lagoon with a stone fastened to my neck. i see it all now, and it is just as well to know it. "very serious," i affirm, in response to the last remark of my interlocutor. "well," he continues, "if i had the honor to be simon hart, the engineer, i should reason as follows: 'given, on the one hand, the personality of ker karraje, the reasons which incited him to select such a mysterious retreat as this cavern, the necessity of the said cavern being kept from any attempt to discover it, not only in the interest of the count d'artigas, but in that of his companions--'" "of his accomplices, if you please." "'of his accomplices,' then--'and on the other hand, given the fact that i know the real name of the count d'artigas and in what mysterious safe he keeps his riches--'" "riches stolen, and stained with blood, mr. serko." "'riches stolen and stained with blood,' if you like--'i ought to understand that this question of liberty cannot be settled in accordance with my desires.'" it is useless to argue the point under these conditions, and i switch the conversation on to another line. "may i ask," i continue, "how you came to find out that gaydon, the warder, was simon hart, the engineer?" "i see no reason for keeping you in ignorance on the subject, my dear colleague. it was largely by hazard. we had certain relations with the manufactory in new jersey with which you were connected, and which you quitted suddenly one day under somewhat singular circumstances. well, during a visit i made to healthful house some months before the count d'artigas went there, i saw and recognized you." "you?" "my very self, and from that moment i promised myself the pleasure of having you for a fellow-passenger on board the _ebba_." i do not recall ever having seen this serko at healthful house, but what he says is very likely true. "i hope your whim of having me for a companion will cost you dear, some day or other," i say to myself. then, abruptly, i go on: "if i am not mistaken, you have succeeded in inducing thomas roch to disclose the secret of his fulgurator?" "yes, mr. hart. we paid millions for it. but millions, you know, are nothing to us. we have only the trouble of taking them! therefore we filled all his pockets--covered him with millions!" "of what use are these millions to him if he is not allowed to enjoy them outside?" "that, mr. hart, is a matter that does not trouble him a little bit! this man of genius thinks nothing of the future: he lives but in the present. while engines are being constructed from his plans over yonder in america, he is preparing his explosive with chemical substances with which he has been abundantly supplied. he! he! what an invention it is, this autopropulsive engine, which flies through the air of its own power and accelerates its speed till the goal is reached, thanks to the properties of a certain powder of progressive combustion! here we have an invention that will bring about a radical change in the art of war." "defensive war, mr. serko." "and offensive war, mr. hart." "naturally," i answer. then pumping him still more closely, i go on: "so, what no one else has been able to obtain from thomas roch--" "we obtained without much difficulty." "by paying him." "by paying him an incredible price--and, moreover, by causing to vibrate what in him is a very sensitive chord." "what chord?" "that of vengeance!" "vengeance?--against whom?" "against all those who have made themselves his enemies by discouraging him, by spurning him, expelling him, by constraining him to go a-begging from country to country with an invention of incontestable superiority! now all notion of patriotism is extinct in his soul. he has now but one thought, one ferocious desire: to avenge himself upon those who have denied him--and even upon all mankind! really, mr. hart, your governments of europe and america committed a stupendous blunder in refusing to pay roch the price his fulgurator is worth!" and engineer serko describes enthusiastically the various advantages of the new explosive which, he says, is incontestably superior to any yet invented. "and what a destructive effect it has," he adds. "it is analogous to that of the zalinski shell, but is a hundred times more powerful, and requires no machine for firing it, as it flies through the air on its own wings, so to speak." i listen in the hope that engineer serko will give away a part of the secret, but in vain. he is careful not to say more than he wants to. "has thomas roch," i ask, "made you acquainted with the composition of his explosive?" "yes, mr. hart--if it is all the same to you--and we shall shortly have considerable quantities of it stored in a safe place." "but will there not be a great and ever-impending danger in accumulating large quantities of it? if an accident were to happen it would be all up with the island of----!" once more the name of back cup was on the point of escaping me. they might consider me too well-informed if they were aware that in addition to being acquainted with the count d'artigas' real name i also know where his stronghold is situated. luckily engineer serko has not remarked my reticence, and he replies: "there will be no cause for alarm. thomas roch's explosive will not burn unless subjected to a special deflagrator. neither fire nor shock will explode it." "and has thomas roch also sold you the secret of his deflagrator?" "not yet, mr. hart, but it will not be long before the bargain is concluded. therefore, i repeat, no danger is to be apprehended, and you need not keep awake of nights on that account. a thousand devils, sir! we have no desire to be blown up with our cavern and treasures! a few more years of good business and we shall divide the profits, which will be large enough to enable each one of us to live as he thinks proper and enjoy life to the top of his bent--after the dissolution of the firm of ker karraje and co. i may add that though there is no danger of an explosion, we have everything to fear from a denunciation--which you are in the position to make, mr. hart. therefore, if you take my advice, you will, like a sensible man, resign yourself to the inevitable until the disbanding of the company. we shall then see what in the interest of our security is best to be done with you!" it will be admitted that these words are not exactly calculated to reassure me. however, a lot of things may happen ere then. i have learned one good thing from this conversation, and that is that if thomas roch has sold his explosive to ker karraje and co., he has at any rate, kept the secret of his deflagrator, without which the explosive is of no more value than the dust of the highway. but before terminating the interview i think i ought to make a very natural observation to mr. serko. "sir," i say, "you are now acquainted with the composition of thomas roch's explosive. does it really possess the destructive power that the inventor attributes to it? has it ever been tried? may you not have purchased a composition as inert as a pinch of snuff?" "you are doubtless better informed upon this point than you pretend, mr. hart. nevertheless, i thank you for the interest you manifest in our affairs, and am able to reassure you. the other night we made a series of decisive experiments. with only a few grains of this substance great blocks of rock were reduced to impalpable dust!" this explanation evidently applies to the detonation i heard. "thus, my dear colleague," continues engineer serko, "i can assure you that our expectations have been answered. the effects of the explosive surpass anything that could have been imagined. a few thousand tons of it would burst our spheroid and scatter the fragments into space. you can be absolutely certain that it is capable of destroying no matter what vessel at a distance considerably greater than that attained by present projectiles and within a zone of at least a mile. the weak point in the invention is that rather too much time has to be expended in regulating the firing." engineer serko stops short, as though reluctant to give any further information, but finally adds: "therefore, i end as i began, mr. hart. resign yourself to the inevitable. accept your new existence without reserve. give yourself up to the tranquil delights of this subterranean life. if one is in good health, one preserves it; if one has lost one's health, one recovers it here. that is what is happening to your fellow countryman. yes, the best thing you can do is to resign yourself to your lot." thereupon this giver of good advice leaves me, after saluting me with a friendly gesture, like a man whose good intentions merit appreciation. but what irony there is in his words, in his glance, in his attitude. shall i ever be able to get even with him? i now know that at any rate it is not easy to regulate the aim of roch's auto-propulsive engine. it is probable that it always bursts at the same distance, and that beyond the zone in which the effects of the fulgurator are so terrible, and once it has been passed, a ship is safe from its effects. if i could only inform the world of this vital fact! _august _.--for two days no incident worth recording has occurred. i have explored back cup to its extreme limits. at night when the long perspective of arched columns are illuminated by the electric lamps, i am almost religiously impressed when i gaze upon the natural wonders of this cavern, which has become my prison. i have never given up hope of finding somewhere in the walls a fissure of some kind of which the pirates are ignorant and through which i could make my escape. it is true that once outside i should have to wait till a passing ship hove in sight. my evasion would speedily be known at the beehive, and i should soon be recaptured, unless--a happy thought strikes me--unless i could get at the _ebba's_ boat that was drawn up high and dry on the little sandy beach in the creek. in this i might be able to make my way to st. george or hamilton. this evening--it was about nine o'clock--i stretched myself on a bed of sand at the foot of one of the columns, about one hundred yards to the east of the lagoon. shortly afterwards i heard footsteps, then voices. hiding myself as best i could behind the rocky base of the pillar, i listened with all my ears. i recognized the voices as those of ker karraje and engineer serko. the two men stopped close to where i was lying, and continued their conversation in english--which is the language generally used in back cup. i was therefore able to understand all that they said. they were talking about thomas roch, or rather his fulgurator. "in a week's time," said ker karraje, "i shall put to sea in the _ebba_, and fetch the sections of the engines that are being cast in that virginian foundry." "and when they are here," observed engineer serko, "i will piece them together and fix up the frames for firing them. but beforehand, there is a job to be done which it seems to me is indispensable." "what is that?" "to cut a tunnel through the wall of the cavern." "through the wall of the cavern?" "oh! nothing but a narrow passage through which only one man at a time could squeeze, a hole easy enough to block, and the outside end of which would be hidden among the rocks." "of what use could it be to us, serko?" "i have often thought about the utility of having some other way of getting out besides the submarine tunnel. we never know what the future may have in store for us." "but the walls are so thick and hard," objected ker karraje. "oh, with a few grains of roch's explosive i undertake to reduce the rock to such fine powder that we shall be able to blow it away with our breath," serko replied. it can easily be imagined with what interest and eagerness i listened to this. here was a ray of hope. it. was proposed to open up communication with the outside by a tunnel in the wall, and this held out the possibility of escape. as this thought flashed through my mind, ker karraje said: "very well, serko, and if it becomes necessary some day to defend back cup and prevent any ship from approaching it----. it is true," he went on, without finishing the reflection, "our retreat would have to have been discovered by accident--or by denunciation." "we have nothing to fear either from accident or denunciation," affirmed serko. "by one of our band, no, of course not, but by simon hart, perhaps." "hart!" exclaimed serko. "he would have to escape first and no one can escape from back cup. i am, by the bye, interested in this hart. he is a colleague, after all, and i have always suspected that he knows more about roch's invention than he pretends. i will get round him so that we shall soon be discussing physics, mechanics, and matters ballistic like a couple of friends." "no matter," replied the generous and sensible count d'artigas, "when we are in full possession of the secret we had better get rid of the fellow." "we have plenty of time to do that, ker karraje." "if god permits you to, you wretches," i muttered to myself, while my heart thumped against my ribs. and yet, without the intervention of providence, what hope is there for me? the conversation then took another direction. "now that we know the composition of the explosive, serko," said ker karraje, "we must, at all cost, get that of the deflagrator from thomas roch." "yes," replied engineer serko, "that is what i am trying to do. unfortunately, however, roch positively refuses to discuss it. still he has already made a few drops of it with which those experiments were made, and he will furnish as with some more to blow a hole through the wall." "but what about our expeditions at sea?" queried ker karraje. "patience! we shall end by getting roch's thunderbolts entirely in our own hand, and then----" "are you sure, serko?" "quite sure,--by paying the price, ker karraje." the conversation dropped at this point, and they strolled off without having seen me--very luckily for me, i guess. if engineer serko spoke up somewhat in defence of a colleague, ker karraje is apparently animated with much less benevolent sentiments in regard to me. on the least suspicion they would throw me into the lake, and if i ever got through the tunnel, it would only be as a corpse carried out by the ebbing tide. _august _.--engineer serko has been prospecting with a view to piercing the proposed passage through the wall, in such a way that its existence will never be dreamed of outside. after a minute examination he decided to tunnel through the northern end of the cavern about sixty feet from the first cells of the beehive. i am anxious for the passage to be made, for who knows but what it may be the way to freedom for me? ah! if i only knew how to swim, perhaps i should have attempted to escape through the submarine tunnel, as since it was disclosed by the lashing back of the waters by the whale in its death-struggle, i know exactly where the orifice is situated. it seems to me that at the time of the great tides, this orifice must be partly uncovered. at the full and new moon, when the sea attains its maximum depression below the normal level, it is possible that--i must satisfy myself about this. i do not know how the fact will help me in any way, even if the entrance to the tunnel is partly uncovered, but i cannot afford to miss any detail that may possibly aid in my escape from back cup. _august _.--this morning i am witnessing the departure of the tug. the count d'artigas is, no doubt, going off in the _ebba_ to fetch the sections of thomas roch's engines. before embarking, the count converses long and earnestly with engineer serko, who, apparently, is not going to accompany him on this trip, and is evidently giving him some recommendations, of which i may be the object. then, having stepped on to the platform, he goes below, the lid shuts with a bang, and the tug sinks out of sight, leaving a trail of bubbles behind it. the hours go by, night is coming on, yet the tug does not return. i conclude that it has gone to tow the schooner, and perhaps to destroy any merchant vessels that may come in their way. it cannot, however, be absent very long, as the trip to america and back will not take more than a week. besides, if i can judge from the calm atmosphere in the interior of the cavern, the _ebba_ must be favored with beautiful weather. this is, in fact, the fine season in this part of the world. ah! if only i could break out of my prison! chapter xiii. god be with it. _from august to september _.--thirteen days have gone by and the _ebba_ has not returned. did she then not make straight for the american coast? has she been delayed by a buccaneering cruise in the neighborhood of back cup? it seems to me that ker karraje's only desire would be to get back with the sections of roch's engines as soon as possible. maybe the virginian foundry had not quite finished them. engineer serko does not display the least anxiety or impatience. he continues to greet me with his accustomed ironical cordiality, and with a kindly air that i distrust--with good reason. he affects to be solicitous as to my health, urges me to make the best of a bad job, calls me ali baba, assures me that there is not, in the whole world, such an enchanting spot as this arabian nights cavern, observes that i am fed, warmed, lodged, and clothed, that i have no taxes to pay, and that even the inhabitants of the favored principality of monaco do not enjoy an existence more free from care. sometimes this ironical verbiage brings the blood to my face, and i am tempted to seize this cynical banterer by the throat and choke the life out of him. they would kill me afterwards. still, what would that matter! would it not be better to end in this way than to spend years and years amid these infernal and infamous surroundings? however, while there is life there is hope, i reflect, and this thought restrains me. i have scarcely set eyes upon thomas roch since the _ebba_ went away. he shuts himself up in his laboratory and works unceasingly. if he utilizes all the substances placed at his disposition there will be enough to blow up back cup and the whole bermudan archipelago with it! i cling to the hope that he will never consent to give up the secret of his deflagrator, and that engineer serko's efforts to acquire it will remain futile. _september _.--to-day i have been able to witness with my own eyes the power of roch's explosive, and also the manner in which the fulgurator is employed. during the morning the men began to pierce the passage through the wall of the cavern at the spot fixed upon by engineer serko, who superintended the work in person. the work began at the base, where the rock is as hard as granite. to have continued it with pickaxes would have entailed long and arduous labor, inasmuch as the wall at this place is not less than from twenty to thirty yards in thickness, but thanks to roch's fulgurator the passage will be completed easily and rapidly. i may well be astonished at what i have seen. the pickaxes hardly made any impression on the rock, but its disaggregation was effected with really remarkable facility by means of the fulgurator. a few grains of this explosive shattered the rocky mass and reduced it to almost impalpable powder that one's breath could disperse as easily as vapor. the explosion produced an excavation measuring fully a cubic yard. it was accompanied by a sharp detonation that may be compared to the report of a cannon. the first charge used, although a very small one, a mere pinch, blew the men in every direction, and two of them were seriously injured. engineer serko himself was projected several yards, and sustained some rather severe contusions. here is how this substance, whose bursting force surpasses anything hitherto conceived, is employed. a small hole about an inch and a half in length is pierced obliquely in the rock. a few grains of the explosive are then inserted, but no wad is used. then thomas roch steps forward. in his hand is a little glass phial containing a bluish, oily liquid that congeals almost as soon as it comes in contact with the air. he pours one drop on the entrance of the hole, and draws back, but not with undue haste. it takes a certain time--about thirty-five seconds, i reckon--before the combination of the fulgurator and deflagrator is effected. but when the explosion does take place its power of disaggregation is such--i repeat--that it may be regarded as unlimited. it is at any rate a thousand times superior to that of any known explosive. under these circumstances it will probably not take more than a week to complete the tunnel. _september _.--for some time past i have observed that the tide rises and falls twice every twenty-four hours, and that the ebb and flow produce a rather swift current through the submarine tunnel. it is pretty certain therefore that a floating object thrown into the lagoon when the top of the orifice is uncovered would be carried out by the receding tide. it is just possible that during the lowest equinoctial tides the top of the orifice is uncovered. this i shall be able to ascertain, as this is precisely the time they occur. to-day, september , i could almost distinguish the summit of the hole under the water. the day after to-morrow, if ever, it will be uncovered. very well then, if i cannot myself attempt to get through, may be a bottle thrown into the lagoon might be carried out during the last few minutes of the ebb. and might not this bottle by chance--an ultra-providential chance, i must avow--be picked up by a ship passing near back cup? perhaps even it might be borne away by a friendly current and cast upon one of the bermudan beaches. what if that bottle contained a letter? i cannot get this thought out of my mind, and it works me up into a great state of excitement. then objections crop up--this one among others: the bottle might be swept against the rocks and smashed ere ever it could get out of the tunnel. very true, but what if, instead of a bottle a diminutive, tightly closed keg were used? it would not run any danger of being smashed and would besides stand a much better chance of reaching the open sea. _september _.--this evening, i, unperceived, entered one of the store houses containing the booty pillaged from various ships and procured a keg very suitable for my experiment. i hid the keg under my coat, and returned to the beehive and my cell. then without losing an instant i set to work. paper, pen, ink, nothing was wanting, as will be supposed from the fact that for three months i have been making notes and dotting down my impressions daily. i indite the following message: "on june last thomas roch and his keeper gaydon, or rather simon hart, the french engineer who occupied pavilion no. , at healthful house, near new-berne, north carolina, united states of america, were kidnapped and carried on board the schooner _ebba_, belonging to the count d'artigas. both are now confined in the interior of a cavern which serves as a lair for the said count d'artigas--who is really ker karraje, the pirate who some time ago carried on his depredations in the west pacific--and for about a hundred men of which his band is composed. "when he has obtained possession of roch's fulgurator whose power is, so to speak, without limit, ker karraje will be in a position to carry on his crimes with complete impunity. "it is therefore urgent that the states interested should destroy his lair without delay. "the cavern in which the pirate ker karraje has taken refuge is in the interior of the islet of back cup, which is wrongly regarded as an active volcano. it is situated at the western extremity of the archipelago of bermuda, and on the east is bounded by a range of reefs, but on the north, south, and west is open. "communication with the inside of the mountain is only possible through a tunnel a few yards under water in a narrow pass on the west. a submarine apparatus therefore is necessary to effect an entrance, at any rate until a tunnel they are boring through the northwestern wall of the cavern is completed. "the pirate ker karraje employs an apparatus of this kind--the submarine boat that the count d'artigas ordered of the cramps and which was supposed to have been lost during the public experiment with it in charleston bay. this boat is used not only for the purpose of entering and issuing from back cup, but also to tow the schooner and attack merchant vessels in bermudan waters. "this schooner _ebba_, so well known on the american coast, is kept in a small creek on the western side of the island, behind a mass of rocks, and is invisible from the sea. "the best place to land is on the west coast formerly occupied by the colony of bermudan fishers; but it would first be advisable to effect a breach in the side of the cavern by means of the most powerful melinite shells. "the fact that ker karraje may be in the position to use roch's fulgurator for the defence of the island must also be taken into consideration. let it be well borne in mind that if its destructive power surpasses anything ever conceived or dreamed of, it extends over a zone not exceeding a mile in extent. the distance of this dangerous zone is variable, but once the engines have been set, the modification of the distance occupies some time, and a warship that succeeds in passing the zone has nothing further to fear. "this document is written on the twentieth day of september at eight o'clock in the evening and is signed with my name "thomas hart, engineer." the above is the text of the statement i have just drawn up. it says all that is necessary about the island, whose exact situation is marked on all modern charts and maps, and points out the expediency of acting without delay, and what to do in case ker karraje is in the position to employ roch's fulgurator. i add a plan of the cavern showing its internal configuration, the situation of the lagoon, the lay of the beehive, ker karraje's habitation, my cell, and thomas roch's laboratory. i wrap the document in a piece of tarpaulin and insert the package in the little keg, which measures six inches by three and a half. it is perfectly watertight and will stand any amount of knocking about against the rocks. there is one danger, however, and that is, that it may be swept back by the returning tide, cast up on the island, and fall into the hands of the crew of the _ebba_ when the schooner is hauled into her creek. if ker karraje ever gets hold of it, it will be all up with me. it will be readily conceived with what anxiety i have awaited the moment to make the attempt: i am in a perfect fever of excitement, for it is a matter of life or death to me. i calculate from previous observations that the tide will be very low at about a quarter to nine. the top of the tunnel ought then to be a foot and a half above water, which is more than enough to permit of the keg passing through it. it will be another half hour at least before the flow sets in again, and by that time the keg may be far enough away to escape being thrown back on the coast. i peer out of my cell. there is no one about, and i advance to the side of the lagoon, where by the light of a nearby lamp, i perceive the arch of the tunnel, towards which the current seems to be setting pretty swiftly. i go down to the very edge, and cast in the keg which contains the precious document and all my hopes. "god be with it!" i fervently exclaim. "god be with it!" for a minute or two the little barrel remains stationary, and then floats back to the side again. i throw it out once more with all my strength. this time it is in the track of the current, which to my great joy sweeps it along and in twenty seconds, it has disappeared in the tunnel. yes, god be with it! may heaven guide thee, little barrel! may it protect all those whom ker karraje menaces and grant that this band of pirates may not escape from the justice of man! chapter xiv. battle between the "sword" and the tug. through all this sleepless night i have followed the keg in fancy. how many times i seem to see it swept against the rocks in the tunnel into a creek, or some excavation. i am in a cold perspiration from head to foot. then i imagine that it has been carried out to sea. heavens! if the returning tide should sweep it back to the entrance and then through the tunnel into the lagoon! i must be on the lookout for it. i rise before the sun and saunter down to the lagoon. not a single object is floating on its calm surface. the work on the tunnel through the side of the cavern goes on, and at four o'clock in the afternoon on september , engineer serko blows away the last rock obstructing the issue, and communication with the outer world is established. it is only a very narrow hole, and one has to stoop to go through it. the exterior orifice is lost among the crannies of the rocky coast, and it would be easy to obstruct it, if such a measure became necessary. it goes without saying that the passage will be strictly guarded. no one without special authorization will be able either to go out or come in, therefore there is little hope of escape in that direction. _september ._--this morning the tug rose from the depth of the lagoon to the surface, and has now run alongside the jetty. the count d'artigas and captain spade disembark, and the crew set to work to land the provisions--boxes of canned meat, preserves, barrels of wine and spirits, and other things brought by the _ebba,_ among which are several packages destined for thomas roch. the men also land the various sections of roch's engines which are discoid in shape. the inventor watches their operations, and his eyes glisten with eagerness. he seizes one of the sections, examines it, and nods approval. i notice that his joy no longer finds expression in incoherent utterances, that he is completely transformed from what he was while a patient at healthful house. so much is this the case that i begin to ask myself whether his madness which was asserted to be incurable, has not been radically cured. at last thomas roch embarks in the boat used for crossing the lake and is rowed over to his laboratory. engineer serko accompanies him. in an hour's time the tug's cargo has all been taken out and transported to the storehouses. ker karraje exchanges a word or two with engineer serko and then enters his mansion. later, in the afternoon, i see them walking up and down in front of the beehive and talking earnestly together. then they enter the new tunnel, followed by captain spade. if i could but follow them! if i could but breathe for awhile the bracing air of the atlantic, of which the interior of back cup only receives attenuated puffs, so to speak. _from september to october _.--fifteen days have elapsed. under the directions of engineer serko and thomas roch the sections of the engines have been fitted together. then the construction of their supports is begun. these supports are simple trestles, fitted with transverse troughs or grooves of various degrees of inclination, and which could be easily installed on the deck of the _ebba_, or even on the platform of the tug, which can be kept on a level with the surface. thus ker karraje, will be ruler of the seas, with his yacht. no warship, however big, however powerful, will be able to cross the zone of danger, whereas the _ebba_ will be out of range of its guns. if only my notice were found! if only the existence of this lair of back cup were known! means would soon be found, if not of destroying the place, at least of starving the band into submission! _october _.--to my extreme surprise i find this morning that the tug has gone away again. i recall that yesterday the elements of the piles were renewed, but i thought it was only to keep them in order. in view of the fact that the outside can now be reached through the new tunnel, and that thomas roch has everything he requires, i can only conclude that the tug has gone off on another marauding expedition. yet this is the season of the equinoctial gales, and the bermudan waters are swept by frequent tempests. this is evident from the violent gusts that drive back the smoke through the crater and the heavy rain that accompanies it, as well as by the water in the lagoon, which swells and washes over the brown rocks on its shores. but it is by no means sure that the _ebba_ has quitted her cove. however staunch she may be, she is, it seems to me, of too light a build to face such tempests as now rage, even with the help of the tug. on the other hand, although the tug has nothing to fear from the heavy seas, as it would be in calm water a few yards below the surface, it is hardly likely that it has gone on a trip unless to accompany the schooner. i do not know to what its departure can be attributed, but its absence is likely to be prolonged, for it has not yet returned. engineer serko has remained behind, but ker karraje, captain spade, and the crew of the schooner, i find, have left. life in the cavern goes on with its usual dispiriting monotony. i pass hour after hour in my cell, meditating, hoping, despairing, following in fancy the voyage of my little barrel, tossed about at the mercy of the currents and whose chances of being picked up, i fear, are becoming fainter each day, and killing time by writing my diary, which will probably not survive me. thomas roch is constantly occupied in his laboratory manufacturing his deflagrator. i still entertain the conviction that nothing will ever induce him to give up the secret of the liquid's composition; but i am perfectly aware that he will not hesitate to place his invention at ker karraje's service. i often meet engineer serko when my strolls take me in the direction of the beehive. he always shows himself disposed to chat with me, though, it is true, he does so in a tone of impertinent frivolity. we converse upon all sorts of subjects, but rarely of my position. recrimination thereanent is useless and only subjects me to renewed bantering. _october _.--to-day i asked engineer serko whether the _ebba_ had put to sea again with the tug. "yes, mr. simon hart," he replied, "and though the clouds gather and loud the tempest roars, be in no uneasiness in regard to our dear _ebba_." "will she be gone long?" "we expect her back within forty-eight hours. it is the last voyage count d'artigas proposes to make before the winter gales render navigation in these parts impracticable." "is her voyage one of business or pleasure?" "of business, mr. hart, of business," answered engineer serko with a smile. "our engines are now completed, and when the fine weather returns we shall resume offensive operations." "against unfortunate merchantmen." "as unfortunate as they are richly laden." "acts of piracy, whose impunity will, i trust, not always be assured," i cried.. "calm yourself, dear colleague, be calm! be calm! no one, you know, can ever discover our retreat, and none can ever disclose the secret! besides, with these engines, which are so easily handled and are of such terrible power, it would be easy for us to blow to pieces any ship that attempted to get within a certain radius of the island." "providing," i said, "that thomas roch has sold you the composition of his deflagrator as he has sold you that of his fulgurator." "that he has done, mr. hart, and it behooves me to set your mind at rest upon that point." from this categorical response i ought to have concluded that the misfortune had been consummated, but a certain hesitation in the intonation of his voice warned me that implicit reliance was not to be placed upon engineer serko's assertions. _october _.--what a frightful adventure i have just been mixed up in, and what a wonder i did not lose my life! it is only by a miracle that i am able to resume these notes, which have been interrupted for forty-eight hours. with a little luck, i should have been delivered! i should now be in one of the bermudan ports--st. george or hamilton. the mysteries of back cup would have been cleared up. the description of the schooner would have been wired all over the world, and she would not dare to put into any port. the provisioning of back cup would be impossible, and ker karraje's bandits would be condemned to starve to death! this is what occurred: at eight o'clock in the evening on october , i quitted my cell in an indefinable state of nervousness, and with a presentiment that a serious event was imminent. in vain i had tried to seek calmness in sleep. it was impossible to do so, and i rose and went out. outside back cup the weather must have been very rough. violent gusts of wind swept in through the crater and agitated the water of the lagoon. i walked along the shore on the beehive side. no one was about. it was rather cold, and the air was damp. the pirates were all snugly ensconced in their cells, with the exception of one man, who stood guard over the new passage, notwithstanding that the outer entrance had been blocked. from where he was this man could not see the lagoon, moreover there were only two lamps alight, one on each side of the lake, and the forest of pillars was wrapt in the profoundest obscurity. i was walking about in the shadow, when some one passed me. i saw that he was thomas roch. he was walking slowly, absorbed by his thoughts, his brain at work, as usual. was this not a favorable opportunity to talk to him, to enlighten him about what he was probably ignorant, namely, the character of the people into whose hands he had fallen? "he cannot," i argued, "know that the count d'artigas is none other than ker karraje, the pirate. he cannot be aware that he has given up a part of his invention to such a bandit. i must open his eyes to the fact that he will never be able to enjoy his millions, that he is a prisoner in back cup, and will never be allowed to leave it, any more than i shall. yes, i will make an appeal to his sentiments of humanity, and point out to him what frightful misfortunes he will be responsible for if he does not keep the secret of his deflagrator." all this i had said to myself, and was preparing to carry out my resolution, when i suddenly felt myself seized from behind. two men held me by the arms, and another appeared in front of me. before i had time to cry out the man exclaimed in english: "hush! not a word! are you not simon hart?" "yes, how did you know?" "i saw you come out of your cell." "who are you, then?" "lieutenant davon, of the british navy, of h.m.s. _standard_, which is stationed at the bermudas." emotion choked me so that it was impossible for me to utter a word. "we have come to rescue you from ker karraje, and also propose to carry off thomas roch," he added. "thomas roch?" i stammered. "yes, the document signed by you was found on the beach at st. george----" "in a keg, lieutenant davon, which i committed to the waters of the lagoon." "and which contained," went on the officer, "the notice by which we were apprised that the island of back cup served as a refuge for ker karraje and his band--ker karraje, this false count d'artigas, the author of the double abduction from healthful house." "ah! lieutenant davon----" "now we have not a moment to spare, we must profit by the obscurity." "one word, lieutenant davon, how did you penetrate to the interior of back cup?" "by means of the submarine boat _sword_, with which we have been making experiments at st. george for six months past." "a submarine boat!" "yes, it awaits us at the foot of the rocks. and now, mr. hart, where is ker karraje's tug?" "it has been away for three weeks." "ker karraje is not here, then?" "no, but we expect him back every day--every hour, i might say." "it matters little," replied lieutenant davon. "it is not after ker karraje, but thomas roch, we have come--and you also, mr. hart. the _sword_ will not leave the lagoon till you are both on board. if she does not turn up at st. george again, they will know that i have failed--and they will try again." "where is the _sword_, lieutenant?" "on this side, in the shadow of the bank, where it cannot be seen. thanks to your directions, i and my crew were able to locate the tunnel. we came through all right, and ten minutes ago rose to the surface of the lake. two men landed with me. i saw you issue from the cell marked on your plan. do you know where thomas roch is?" "a few paces off. he has just passed me, on his way to his laboratory." "god be praised, mr. hart!" "amen, lieutenant davon." the lieutenant, the two men and i took the path around the lagoon. we had not gone far when we perceived thomas roch in front of us. to throw ourselves upon him, gag him before he could utter a cry, bind him before he could offer any resistance, and bear him off to the place where the _sword_ was moored was the work of a minute. the _sword_ was a submersible boat of only twelve tons, and consequently much inferior to the tug, both in respect of dimensions and power. her screw was worked by a couple of dynamos fitted with accumulators that had been charged twelve hours previously in the port of st. george. however, the _sword_ would suffice to take us out of this prison, to restore us to liberty--that liberty of which i had given up all hope. thomas roch was at last to be rescued from the clutches of ker karraje and engineer serko. the rascals would not be able to utilize his invention, and nothing could prevent the warships from landing a storming party on the island, who would force the tunnel in the wall and secure the pirates! we saw no one while the two men were conveying thomas roch to the _sword_, and all got on board without incident. the lid was shut and secured, the water compartments filled, and the _sword_ sank out of sight. we were saved! the _sword_ was divided into three water-tight compartments. the after one contained the accumulators and machinery. the middle one, occupied by the pilot, was surmounted by a periscope fitted with lenticular portholes, through which an electric search-lamp lighted the way through the water. forward, in the other compartment, thomas roch and i were shut in. my companion, though the gag which was choking him had been removed, was still bound, and, i thought, knew what was going on. but we were in a hurry to be off, and hoped to reach st. george that very night if no obstacle was encountered. i pushed open the door of the compartment and rejoined lieutenant davon, who was standing by the man at the wheel. in the after compartment three other men, including the engineer, awaited the lieutenant's orders to set the machinery in motion. "lieutenant davon," i said, "i do not think there is any particular reason why i should stay in there with roch. if i can help you to get through the tunnel, pray command me." "yes, i shall be glad to have you by me, mr. hart." it was then exactly thirty-seven minutes past eight. the search-lamp threw a vague light through the water ahead of the _sword_. from where we were, we had to cross the lagoon through its entire length to get to the tunnel. it would be pretty difficult to fetch it, we knew, but, if necessary, we could hug the sides of the lake until we located it. once outside the tunnel the _sword_ would rise to the surface and make for st. george at full speed. "at what depth are we now?" i asked the lieutenant. "about a fathom." "it is not necessary to go any lower," i said. "from what i was able to observe during the equinoctial tides, i should think that we are in the axis of the tunnel." "all right," he replied. yes, it was all right, and i felt that providence was speaking by the mouth of the officer. certainly providence could not have chosen a better agent to work its will. in the light of the lamp i examined him. he was about thirty years of age, cool, phlegmatic, with resolute physiognomy--the english officer in all his native impassibility--no more disturbed than if he had been on board the _standard_, operating with extraordinary _sang-froid,_ i might even say, with the precision of a machine. "on coming through the tunnel i estimated its length at about fifty yards," he remarked. "yes, lieutenant, about fifty yards from one extremity to the other." this calculation must have been pretty exact, since the new tunnel cut on a level with the coast is thirty-five feet in length. the order was given to go ahead, and the _sword_ moved forward very slowly for fear of colliding against the rocky side. sometimes we came near enough to it to distinguish a black mass ahead of it, but a turn of the wheel put us in the right direction again. navigating a submarine boat in the open sea is difficult enough. how much more so in the confines of a lagoon! after five minutes' manoeuvring, the _sword_, which was kept at about a fathom below the surface, had not succeeded in sighting the orifice. "perhaps it would be better to return to the surface, lieutenant," i said. "we should then be able to see where we are." "i think you are right, mr. hart, if you can point out just about where the tunnel is located." "i think i can." "very well, then." as a precaution the light was turned off. the engineer set the pumps in motion, and, lightened of its water ballast, the boat slowly rose in the darkness to the surface. i remained at my post so that i could peer through the lookouts. at last the ascensional movement of the _sword_ stopped, and the periscope emerged about a foot. on one side of me, lighted by the lamp by the shore, i could see the beehive. "what is your opinion?" demanded the lieutenant. "we are too far north. the orifice is in the west side of the cavern." "is anybody about?" "not a soul." "capital, mr. hart. then we will keep on a level with the surface, and when we are in front of the tunnel, and you give the signal, we will sink." it was the best thing to be done. we moved off again and the pilot kept her head towards the tunnel. when we were about twelve yards off i gave the signal to stop. as soon as the current was turned off the _sword_ stopped, opened her water tanks and slowly sank again. then the light in the lookout was turned on again, and there in front of us was a black circle that did not reflect the lamp's rays. "there it is, there is the tunnel!" i cried. was it not the door by which i was going to escape from my prison? was not liberty awaiting me on the other side? gently the _sword_ moved towards the orifice. oh! the horrible mischance! how have i survived it? how is it that my heart is not broken? a dim light appeared in the depth of the tunnel, about twenty-five yards in front of us. the advancing light could be none other than that, projected through the lookout of ker karraje's submarine boat. "the tug! the tug!" i exclaimed. "lieutenant, here is the tug returning to back cup!" "full speed astern," ordered the officer, and the _sword_ drew back just as she was about to enter the tunnel. one chance remained. the lieutenant had swiftly turned off the light, and it was just possible that we had not been seen by the people in the tug. perhaps, in the dark waters of the lagoon, we should escape notice, and when the oncoming boat had risen and moored to the jetty, we should be able to slip out unperceived. we had backed close in to the south side and the _sword_ was about to stop, but alas, for our hopes! captain spade had seen that another submarine boat was about to issue through the tunnel, and he was making preparations to chase us. how could a frail craft like the _sword_ defend itself against the attacks of ker karraje's powerful machine? lieutenant davon turned to me and said: "go back to the compartment where thomas roch is and shut yourself in. i will close the after-door. there is just a chance that if the tug rams us the water-tight compartments will keep us up." after shaking hands with the lieutenant, who was as cool as though we were in no danger, i went forward and rejoined thomas roch. i closed the door and awaited the issue in profound darkness. then i could feel the desperate efforts made by the _sword_ to escape from or ram her enemy. i could feel her rushing, gyrating and plunging. now she would twist to avoid a collision. now she would rise to the surface, then sink to the bottom of the lagoon. can any one conceive such a struggle as that in which, like two marine monsters, these machines were engaged in beneath the troubled waters of this inland lake? a few minutes elapsed, and i began to think that the _sword_ had eluded the tug and was rushing through the tunnel. suddenly there was a collision. the shock was not, it seemed to me, very violent, but i could be under no illusion: the _sword_ had been struck on her starboard quarter. perhaps her plates had resisted, and if not, the water would only invade one of her compartments, i thought. almost immediately after, however, there was another shock that pushed the _sword_ with extreme violence. she was raised by the ram of the tug which sawed and ripped its way into her side. then i could feel her heel over and sink straight down, stern foremost. thomas roch and i were tumbled over violently by. this movement. there was another bump, another ripping sound, and the _sword_ lay still. just what happened after that i am unable to say, for i lost consciousness. i have since learned that all this occurred many hours ago. i however distinctly remember that my last thought was: "if i am to die, at any rate thomas roch and his secret perish with me--and the pirates of back cup will not escape punishment for their crimes." chapter xv. expectation. as soon as i recover my senses i find myself lying on my bed in my cell, where it appears i have been lying for thirty-six hours. i am not alone. engineer serko is near me. he has attended to me himself, not because he regards me as a friend, i surmise, but as a man from whom indispensable explanations are awaited, and who afterwards can be done away with if necessary. i am still so weak that i could not walk a step. a little more and i should have been asphyxiated in that narrow compartment of the _sword_ at the bottom of the lagoon. am i in condition to reply to the questions that engineer serko is dying to put to me? yes--but i shall maintain the utmost reserve. in the first place i wonder what has become of lieutenant davon and the crew of the _sword_. did those brave englishmen perish in the collision? are they safe and sound like us--for i suppose that thomas roch has also survived? the first question that engineer serko puts to me is this: "will you explain to me what happened, mr. hart?" instead of replying it occurs to me to question him myself. "and thomas roch?" i inquire. "in good health, mr. hart." then he adds in an imperious tone: "tell me what occurred!" "in the first place, tell me what became of the others." "what others?" replies serko, glancing at me savagely. "why, those men who threw themselves upon thomas roch and me, who gagged, bound, and carried us off and shut us up, i know not where?" on reflection i had come to the conclusion that the best thing to do was to pretend that i had been surprised before i knew where i was or who my aggressors were. "you will know what became of them later. but first, tell me how, the thing was done." by the threatening tone of his voice, as he for the third time puts this question, i understand the nature of the suspicions entertained of me. yet to be in the position to accuse me of having had relations with the outside he would have had to get possession of my keg. this he could not have done, seeing that it is in the hands of the bermudan authorities. the pirates cannot, i am convinced, have a single proof to back up their suspicions. i therefore recount how about eight o'clock on the previous evening i was walking along the edge of the lagoon, after thomas roch had passed me, going towards his laboratory, when i felt myself seized from behind; how having been gagged, bound, and blindfolded, i felt myself carried off and lowered into a hole with another person whom i thought i recognized from his groans as thomas roch; how i soon felt that i was on board a boat of some description and naturally concluded that it was the tug; how i felt it sink; how i felt a shock that threw me violently against the side, and how i felt myself suffocating and lost consciousness, since i remember nothing further. engineer serko listens with profound attention, a stern look in his eyes and a frown on his brow; and yet he can have no reason that authorizes him to doubt my word. "you claim that three men threw themselves upon you?" he asks. "yes. i thought they were some of your people, for i did not see them coming. who were they?" "strangers, as you must have known from their language." "they did not utter a word!" "have you no idea as to their nationality?" "not the remotest." do you know what were their intentions in entering the cavern?" "i do not." "what is your opinion about it?" "my opinion, mr. serko? i repeat i thought they were two or three of your pirates who had come to throw me into the lagoon by the count d'artigas' orders, and that they were going to do the same thing to thomas roch. i supposed that having obtained his secrets--as you informed me was the case--you had no further use for him and were about to get rid of us both." "is it possible, mr. hart, that you could have thought such a thing!" continued serko in his sarcastic way. "i did, until having been able to remove the bandage from my eyes, i perceived that i was in the tug." "it was not the tug, but a boat of the same kind that had got through the tunnel." "a submarine boat?" i ejaculate. "yes, and manned by persons whose mission was to kidnap you and thomas roch." "kidnap us?" i echo, continuing to feign surprise. "and," adds engineer serko, "i want to know what you think about the matter." "what i think about it? well, it appears to me that there is only one plausible explanation possible. if the secret of your retreat has not been betrayed--and i cannot conceive how you could have been betrayed or what imprudence you or yours could have committed--my opinion is that this submarine boat was exploring the bottom of the sea in this neighborhood, that she must have found her way into the tunnel, that she rose to the surface of the lagoon, that her crew, greatly surprised to find themselves inside an inhabited cavern, seized hold of the first persons they came across, thomas roch and myself, and others as well perhaps, for of course i do not know----" engineer serko has become serious again. does he realize the inanity of the hypothesis i try to pass off on him? does he think i know more than i will say? however this may be, he accepts my professed view, and says: "in effect, mr. hart, it must have happened as you suggest, and when the stranger tried to make her way out through the tunnel just as the tug was entering, there was a collision--a collision of which she was the victim. but we are not the kind of people to allow our fellow-men to perish before our eyes. moreover, the disappearance of thomas roch and yourself was almost immediately discovered. two such valuable lives had to be saved at all hazards. we set to work. there are many expert divers among our men. they hastily donned their suits and descended to the bottom of the lagoon. they passed lines around the hull of the _sword_----" "the _sword_?" i exclaim. "that is the name we saw painted on the bow of the vessel when we raised her to the surface. what satisfaction we experienced when we recovered you--unconscious, it is true, but still breathing--and were able to bring you back to life! unfortunately all our attentions to the officer who commanded the _sword_, and to his crew were useless. the shock had torn open the after and middle compartments, and they paid with their lives the misfortune--due to chance, as you observe--of having discovered our mysterious retreat." on learning that lieutenant davon and his companions are dead, my heart is filled with anguish; but to keep up my role--as they were persons with whom, presumably, i was not acquainted, and had never seen--i am careful not to display any emotion. i must, on no account, afford ground for the suspicion that there was any connivance between the commander of the _sword_ and me. for aught i know, engineer serko may have reason to be very skeptical about the discovery of the tunnel being accidental. what, however, i am most concerned about is that the unlooked-for occasion to recover my liberty was lost. shall i ever be afforded another chance? however this may be, my notice reached the english authorities of the archipelago, and they now know where ker karraje is to be found. when it is seen that the _sword_ does not return to bermuda, there can be no doubt that another attempt will be made to get inside back cup, in which, had it not been for the inopportune return of the tug, i should no longer be a prisoner. i have resumed my usual existence, and having allayed all mistrust, am permitted to wander freely about the cavern, as usual. it is patent that the adventure has had no ill effect upon thomas roch. intelligent nursing brought him around, as it did me. in full possession of his mental faculties he has returned to work, and spends the entire day in his laboratory. the _ebba_ brought back from her last trip bales, boxes, and a quantity of objects of varied origin, and i conclude that a number of ships must have been pillaged during this marauding expedition. the work on the trestles for roch's engine goes steadily forward, and there are now no fewer than fifty engines. if ker karraje and engineer serko are under the necessity of defending back cup, three or four will be sufficient to render the island unapproachable, as they will cover a zone which no vessel could enter without being blown to pieces. and it occurs to me that they intend to put back cup in a state of defence after having argued as follows: "if the appearance of the _sword_ in the lagoon was due to chance the situation remains unchanged, and no power, not even england, will think of seeking for the _sword_ inside the cavern. if, on the other hand, as the result of an incomprehensible revelation, it has been learned that back cup is become the retreat of ker karraje, if the expedition of the _sword_ was a first effort against the island, another of a different kind--either a bombardment from a distance, or an attack by a landing party--is to be expected. therefore, ere we can quit back cup and carry away our plunder, we shall have to defend ourselves by means of roch's fulgurator." in my opinion the rascals must have gone on to reason still further in this wise: "is there any connection between the disclosure of our secret--if it was, and however it may have been made--and the double abduction from healthful house? is it known that thomas roch and his keeper are confined in back cup? is it known that the abduction was effected in the interest of ker karraje? have americans, english, french, germans, and russians reason to fear that an attack in force against the island would be doomed to failure?" ker karraje must know very well that these powers would not hesitate to attack him, however great the danger might be. the destruction of his lair is an urgent duty in the interest of public security and of humanity. after sweeping the west pacific the pirate and his companions are infesting the west atlantic, and must be wiped out at all costs. in any case, it is imperative that the inhabitants of back cup should be on their guard. this fact is realized, and, from the day on which the _sword_ was destroyed, strict watch has been kept. thanks to the new passage, they are able to hide among the rocks without having recourse to the submarine tunnel to get there, and day and night a dozen sentries are posted about the island. the moment a ship appears in sight the fact is at once made known inside the cavern. nothing occurs for some days, and the latter succeed each other with dreadful monotony. the pirates, however, feel that back cup no longer enjoys its former security. every moment an alarm from the sentries posted outside is expected. the situation is no longer the same since the advent of the _sword_. gallant lieutenant davon, gallant crew, may england, may the civilized nations, never forget that you have sacrificed your lives in the cause of humanity! it is evident that now, however powerful may be their means of defence, even more powerful than a network of torpedoes, engineer serko and captain spade are filled with an anxiety that they vainly essay to dissemble. they hold frequent conferences together. maybe they discuss the advisability of quitting back cup with their wealth, for they are aware that if the existence of the cavern is known means will be found to reduce it, even if the inmates have to be starved out. this is, of course, mere conjecture on my part. what is essential to me is that they do not suspect me of having launched the keg that was so providentially picked up at bermuda. never, i must say, has engineer serko ever made any allusion to any such probability. no, i am not even suspected. if the contrary were the case i am sufficiently acquainted with ker karraje to know that he would long ago have sent me to rejoin lieutenant davon and the _sword_ at the bottom of the lagoon. the winter tempests have set in with a vengeance. the wind howls though the hole in the roof, and rude gusts sweep through the forest of pillars producing sonorous sounds, so sonorous, so deep, that one might sometimes almost fancy they were produced by the firing of the guns of a squadron. flocks of seabirds take refuge in the cavern from the gale, and at intervals, when it lulls, almost deafen us with their screaming. it is to be presumed that in such weather the schooner will make no attempt to put to sea, for the stock of provisions is ample enough to last all the season. moreover, i imagine the count d'artigas will not be so eager in future to show his _ebba_ along the american coast, where he risks being received, not, as hitherto, with the consideration due to a wealthy yachtsman, but in the manner ker karraje so richly merits. it occurs to me that if the apparition of the _sword_ was the commencement of a campaign against the island, a question of great moment relative to the future of back cup arises. therefore, one day, prudently, so as not to excite any suspicion, i ventured to pump engineer serko about it. we were in the neighborhood of thomas roch's laboratory, and had been conversing for some time, when engineer serko touched upon the extraordinary apparition of an english submarine boat in the lagoon. on this occasion he seemed to incline to the view that it might have been a premeditated expedition against ker karraje. "that is not my opinion," i replied, in order to bring him to the question that i wanted to put to him. "why?" he demanded. "because if your retreat were known a fresh attempt, if not to penetrate to the cavern, at least to destroy back cup, would ere this have been made." "destroy it!" cried serko. "it would be a dangerous undertaking, in view of the means of defence of which we now dispose." "they can know nothing about this matter, mr. serko. it is not imagined, either in the new world or the old, that the abduction from healthful house was effected for your especial benefit, or that you have succeeded in coming to terms with thomas roch for his invention." engineer serko made no response to this observation, which, for that matter, was unanswerable. i continued: "therefore a squadron sent by the maritime powers who have an interest in breaking up this island would not hesitate to approach and shell it. now, i argue from this that as this squadron has not yet appeared, it is not likely to come at all, and that nothing is known as to ker karraje's whereabouts, and you must admit that this hypothesis is the most cheerful one, as far as you are concerned." "that may be," engineer serko replied, "but what is, is. whether they are aware of the fact or no, if warships approach within five or six miles of this island they will be sunk before they have had time to fire a single shot!" "well, and what then?" "what then? why the probability is that no others would care to repeat the experiment." "that, again, may be. but these warships would invest you beyond the dangerous zone, and the _ebba_ would not be able to put in to the ports she previously visited with the count d'artigas. in this event, how would you be able to provision the island?" engineer serko remained silent. this argument, which he must already have brooded over, was too logical to be refuted or dismissed, and i have an idea that the pirates contemplate abandoning back cup. nevertheless, not relishing being cornered, he continued: "we should still have the tug, and what the _ebba_ could not do, this would." "the tug?" i cried. "but if ker karraje's secrets are known, do you suppose the powers are not also aware of the existence of the count d'artigas' submarine boat?" engineer serko looked at me suspiciously. "mr. hart," he said, "you appear to me to carry your deductions rather far." "i, mr. serko?" "yes, and i think you talk about all this like a man who knows more than he ought to." this remark brought me up abruptly. it was evident that my arguments might give rise to the suspicion that i was not altogether irresponsible for the recent incident. engineer serko scrutinized me sharply as though he would read my innermost thoughts. "mr. serko," i observed, "by profession, as well as by inclination, i am accustomed to reason upon everything. this is why i communicated to you the result of my reasoning, which you can take into consideration or not, as you like." thereupon we separate. but i fancy my lack of reserve may have excited suspicions which may not be easy to allay. from this interview, however, i gleaned a precious bit of information, namely, that the dangerous zone of roch's fulgurator is between five and six miles off. perhaps, during the next equinoctial tides, another notice to this effect in another keg may also reach a safe destination. but how many weary months to wait before the orifice of the tunnel will again be uncovered! the rough weather continues, and the squalls are more violent than ever. is it the state of the sea that delays another campaign against back cup? lieutenant davon certainly assured me that if his expedition failed, if the _sword_ did not return to st. george, another attempt under different conditions would be made with a view to breaking up this bandits' lair. sooner or later the work of justice must be done, and back cup be destroyed, even though i may not survive its destruction. ah! why can i not go and breathe, if only for a single instant, the vivifying air outside? why am i not permitted to cast one glance over the ocean towards the distant horizon of the bermudas? my whole life is concentrated in one desire: to get through the tunnel in the wall and hide myself among the rocks. perchance i might be the first to catch sight of the smoke of a squadron heading for the island. this project, alas! is unrealizable, as sentries are posted day and night at each extremity of the passage. no one can enter it without engineer serko's authorization. were i to attempt it, i should risk being deprived of my liberty to walk about the cavern, and even worse might happen to me. since our last conversation, engineer serko's attitude towards me has undergone a change. his gaze has lost its old-time sarcasm and is distrustful, suspicious, searching and as stern as ker karraje's. _november _.--this afternoon there was a great commotion in the beehive, and the men rushed out of their cells with loud cries. i was reclining on my bed, but immediately rose and hurried out. all the pirates were making for the passage, in front of which were ker karraje, engineer serko, captain spade, boatswain effrondat, engine-driver gibson and the count d'artigas' big malay attendant. i soon learn the reason for the tumult, for the sentries rush in with shouts of alarm. several vessels have been sighted to the northwest--warships steaming at full speed in the direction of back cup. chapter xvi. only a few more hours. what effect this news has upon me, and what emotion it awakens within my soul! the end, i feel, is at hand. may it be such as civilization and humanity are entitled to. up to the present i have indited my notes day by day. henceforward it is imperative that i should inscribe them hour by hour, minute by minute. who knows but what thomas roch's last secret may be revealed to me and that i shall have time to commit it to paper! should i die during the attack god grant that the account of the five months i have passed in back cup may be found upon my body! at first ker karraje, engineer serko, captain spade, and several of their companions took up position on the exterior base of the island. what would i not give to be able follow to them, and in the friendly shelter of a rook watch the on-coming warships! an hour later they return after having left a score of men to keep watch. as the days at this season of the year are very short there is nothing to fear before the morrow. it is not likely that the ships will attempt a night attack and land a storming party, for they must imagine that the place is in a thorough condition of defence. all night long the pirates work, installing the trestles at different points of the coast. six have been taken through the passage to places selected in advance. this done, engineer serko joins thomas roch in his laboratory. is he going to tell him what is passing, that a squadron is in view of back cup, and that his fulgurator will be employed to defend the island? what is certain is that half a hundred engines, each charged with several pounds of the explosive and of the substance that ensures a trajectory superior to that of any other projectile, are ready for their work of destruction. as to the deflagrator liquid, thomas roch has a certain number of phials of it, and--i know only too well--will not refuse to help ker karraje's pirates with it. during these preparations night has come on. only the lamps of the beehive are lighted and a semi-obscurity reigns in the cavern. i return to my cell. it is to my interest to keep out of the way as much as possible, for engineer serko's suspicions might be revived now that the squadron is approaching back cup. but will the vessels sighted continue on their course in this direction? may they not be merely passing on their way to bermuda? for an instant this doubt enters my mind. no, no, it cannot be! besides, i have just heard captain spade declare that they are lying to in view of the island. to what nation do they belong? have the english, desirous of avenging the destruction of the _sword_, alone undertaken the expedition? may not cruisers of other nations be with them? i know not, and it is impossible to ascertain. and what does it matter, after all, so long as this haunt is destroyed, even though i should perish in the ruins like the heroic lieutenant davon and his brave crew? preparations for defence continue with coolness and method under engineer serko's superintendence. these pirates are obviously certain that they will be able to annihilate their assailants as soon as the latter enter the dangerous zone. their confidence in roch's fulgurator is absolute. absorbed by the idea that these warship are powerless against them, they think neither of the difficulties nor menaces held out by the future. i surmise that the trestles have been set up on the northwest coast with the grooves turned to send the engines to the north, west, and south. on the east, as already stated, the island is defended by the chain of reefs that stretches away to the bermudas. about nine o'clock i venture out of my cell. they will pay little attention to me, and perhaps i may escape notice in the obscurity. ah! if i could get through that passage and hide behind some rock, so that i could witness what goes on at daybreak! and why should i not succeed now that ker karraje, engineer serko, captain spade, and the pirates have taken their posts outside? the shores of the lake are deserted, but the entrance to the passage is kept by count d'artigas' malay. i saunter, without any fixed idea, towards thomas roch's laboratory. this reminds me of my compatriot. i am, on reflection, disposed to think that he knows nothing about the presence of a squadron off back cup. probably not until the last moment will engineer serko apprise him of its proximity, not till he brusquely points out to him the vengeance he can accomplish. then i conceive the idea of enlightening thomas roch, myself, of the responsibility he is incurring and of revealing to him in this supreme hour the character of the men who want him to co-operate in their criminal projects. yes, i will, attempt it, and may i succeed in fanning into a flame any spark of patriotism that may still linger in his rebellious soul! roch is shut up in his laboratory. he must be alone, for never does he allow any one to enter while he is preparing his deflagrator. as i pass the jetty i notice that the tug is moored in its accustomed place. here i judge it prudent to walk behind the first row of pillars and approach the laboratory laterally--which will enable me to see whether anybody is with him. when i have gone a short distance along the sombre avenue i see a bright light on the opposite side of the lagoon. it is the electric light in roch's laboratory as seen through a narrow window in the front. except in that particular spot, the southern shore of the lake is in darkness, whereas, in the opposite direction, the beehive is lit up to its extremity at the northern wall. through the opening in the dome, over the lake i can see the stars shining. the sky is clear, the tempest has abated, and the squalls no longer penetrate to the interior of back cup. when near the laboratory, i creep along the wall and peep in at the window. thomas roch is there alone. the light shines full on his face. if it is somewhat drawn, and the lines on the forehead are more pronounced, his physiognomy, at least, denotes perfect calmness and self-possession. no, he is no longer the inmate of pavilion no. , the madman of healthful house, and i ask myself whether he is not radically cured, whether there is no further danger of his reason collapsing in a final paroxysm. he has just laid two glass phials upon the table, and holds a third in his hand. he holds it up to the light, and observes the limpidity of the liquid it contains. i have half a mind to rush in, seize the tubes and smash them, but i reflect that he would have time to make some more of the stuff. better stick to my first plan. i push the door open and enter. "thomas roch!" i exclaim. he has not heard, nor has he seen me. "thomas roch!" i repeat. he raises his head, turns and gazes at me. "ah! it is you, simon hart!" he replies calmly, even indifferently. he knows my name. engineer serko must have informed him that it was simon hart, and not keeper gaydon who was watching over him at healthful house. "you know who i am?" i say. "yes, as i know what your object was in undertaking such a position. you lived in hopes of surprising a secret that they would not pay for at its just value!" thomas roch knows everything, and perhaps it is just as well, in view of what i am going to say. "well, you did not succeed, simon hart, and as far as this is concerned," he added, flourishing the phial, "no one else has succeeded, or ever will succeed." as i conjectured, he has not, then, made known the composition of his deflagrator. looking him straight in the face, i reply: "you know who i am, thomas roch, but do you know in whose place you are?" "in my own place!" he cries. that is what ker karraje has permitted him to believe. the inventor thinks he is at home in back cup, that the riches accumulated in this cavern are his, and that if an attack is made upon the place, it will be with the object of stealing what belongs to him! and he will defend it under the impression that he has the right to do so! "thomas roch," i continue, "listen to me." "what do you want to say to me, simon hart?" "this cavern into which we have been dragged, is occupied by a band of pirates, and--" roch does not give me time to complete the sentence--i doubt even whether he has understood me. "i repeat," he interrupts vehemently, "that the treasures stored here are the price of my invention. they have paid me what i asked for my fulgurator--what i was everywhere else refused--even in my own country--which is also yours--and i will not allow myself to be despoiled!" what can i reply to such insensate assertions? i, however, go on: "thomas roch, do you remember healthful house?" "healthful house, where i was sequestrated after warder gaydon had been entrusted with the mission of spying upon me in order to rob me of my secret? i do, indeed." "i never dreamed of depriving you of the benefit of your secret, thomas roch. i would never have accepted such a mission. but you were ill, your reason was affected, and your invention was too valuable to be lost. yes, had you disclosed the secret during one of your fits you would have preserved all the benefit and all the honor of it." "really, simon hart!" roch replies disdainfully. "honor and benefit! your assurances come somewhat late in the day. you forget that on the pretext of insanity, i was thrown into a dungeon. yes, it was a pretext; for my reason has never left me, even for an hour, as you can see from what i have accomplished since i am free." "free! do you imagine you are free, thomas roch? are you not more closely confined within the walls of this cavern than you ever were at healthful house?" "a man who is in his own home," he replies angrily, "goes out as he likes and when he likes. i have only to say the word and all the doors will open before me. this place is mine. count d'artigas gave it to me with everything it contains. woe to those who attempt to attack it. i have here the wherewithal to annihilate them, simon hart!" the inventor waves the phial feverishly as he speaks." "the count d'artigas has deceived you," i cry, "as he has deceived so many others. under this name is dissembled one of the most formidable monsters who ever scoured the pacific and atlantic oceans. he is a bandit steeped in crime--he is the odious ker karraje!" "ker karraje!" echoes thomas roch. and i wonder if this name has not impressed him, if he remembers who the man is who bears it. if it did impress him, it was only momentarily. "i do not know this ker karraje," he says, pointing towards the door to order me out. "i only know the count d'artigas." "thomas roch," i persist, in a final effort, "the count d'artigas and ker karraje are one and the same person. if this man has purchased your secret, it is with the intention of ensuring impunity for his crimes and facilities for committing fresh ones. he is the chief of these pirates." "pirates!" cries roch, whose irritation increases the more i press him. "the real pirates are those who dare to menace me even in this retreat, who tried it on with the _sword_--for serko has told me everything--who sought to steal in my own home what belongs to me, what is but the just price of my discovery." "no, thomas roch, the pirates are those who have imprisoned you in this cavern of back cup, who will utilize your genius to defend it, and who will get rid of you when they are in entire possession of your secrets!" thomas roch here interrupts me. he does not appear to listen to what i say. he has a fixed idea, that of vengeance, which has been skilfully worked upon by engineer serko, and in which his hatred is concentrated to the exclusion of everything else. "the bandits," he hisses, "are those who spurned me without a hearing, who heaped injustice and ignominy upon me, who drove me from country to country, whereas i offered them superiority, invincibleness, omnipotence!" it is the eternal story of the unappreciated inventor, to whom the indifferent or envious refuse the means of testing his inventions, to pay him the value he sets upon them. i know it well--and also know all the exaggeration that has been written upon this subject. it is clearly no time for reasoning with thomas roch. my arguments are entirely lost upon the hapless dupe of ker karraje and his accomplices. in revealing to him the real name of the count d'artigas, and denouncing to him this band and their chief i had hoped to wean him from their influence and make him realize the criminal end they have in view. my hope was vain. he does not believe me. and then what does he care whether the brigand's name is count 'd'artigas or ker karraje? is not he, thomas roch, master of back cup? is he not the owner of these riches accumulated by twenty years of murder and rapine? disarmed before such moral degeneracy, knowing not how i can touch his ulcerated, irresponsible heart, i turn towards the door. it only remains for me to withdraw. what is to be, will be, since it is out of my power to prevent the frightful _dénouement_ that will occur in a few hours. thomas roch takes no more notice of me. he seems to have forgotten that i am here. he has resumed his manipulations without realizing that he is not alone. there is only one means of preventing the imminent catastrophe. throw myself upon roch, place him beyond the power of doing harm--strike him--kill him--yes, kill him! it is my right--it is my duty! i have no arms, but on a near-by shelf i see some tools--a chisel and a hammer. what is to prevent me from knocking his brains out? once he is dead i have but to smash the phials and his invention dies with him. the warships can approach, land their men upon the island, demolish back cup with their shells. ker karraje and his band will be killed to a man. can i hesitate at a murder that will bring about the chastisement of so many crimes? i advance to the shelf and stretch forth my hand to seize the chisel. as i do so, thomas roch turns round. it is too late to strike. a struggle would ensue. the noise and his cries would be heard, for there are still some pirates not far off, i can even now hear some one approaching, and have only just time to fly if i would not be seen. nevertheless, i make one last attempt to awaken the sentiment of patriotism within him. "thomas roch," i say, "warships are in sight. they have come to destroy this lair. maybe one of them flies the french flag!" he gazes at me. he was not aware that back cup is going to be attacked, and i have just apprised him of the fact. his brow darkens and his eyes flash. "thomas roch, would you dare to fire upon your country's flag--the tricolor flag?" he raises his head, shakes it nervously, and with a disdainful gesture: "what do you mean by 'your country?' i no longer have any country, simon hart. the inventor spurned no longer has a country. where he finds an asylum, there is his fatherland! they seek to take what is mine. i will defend it, and woe, woe to those who dare to attack me!" then rushing to the door of the laboratory and throwing it violently open he shouts so loudly that he must be heard at the beehive: "go! get you gone!" i have not a second to lose, and i dash out. chapter xvii. one against five. for a whole hour i wander about among back cup's dark vaults, amid the stone trees, to the extreme limit of the cavern. it is here that i have so often sought an issue, a crevice, a crack through which i might squeeze to the shore of the island. my search has been futile. in my present condition, a prey to indefinable hallucinations it seems to me that these walls are thicker than ever, that they are gradually closing in upon and will crush me. how long this mental trouble lasts i cannot say. but i afterwards find myself on the beehive side, opposite the cell in which i cannot hope for either repose or sleep. sleep, when my brain is in a whirl of excitement? sleep, when i am near the end of a situation that threatened to be prolonged for years and years? what will the end be as far as i am personally concerned? what am i to expect from the attack upon back cup, the success of which i have been unable to assure by placing thomas roch beyond the possibility of doing harm? his engines are ready to be launched, and as soon as the vessels have reached the dangerous zone they will be blown to atoms. however this may be, i am condemned to pass the remaining hours of the night in my cell. the time has come for me to go in. at daybreak i shall see what is best for me to do. meanwhile, for aught i know i may hear the thunder of roch's fulgurator as it destroys the ships approaching to make a night attack. i take a last look round. on the opposite side a light, a single light, is burning. it is the lamp in roch's laboratory and it casts its reflection upon the waters of the lake. no one is about, and it occurs to me that the pirates must have taken up their lighting positions outside and that the beehive is empty. then, impelled by an irresistible instinct, instead of returning to my cell, i creep along the wall, listening, spying, ready to hide if i hear voices or footsteps. i at length reach the passage. god in heaven! no one is on guard there--the passage is free! without giving myself time to reflect i dart into the dark hole, and grope my way along it. soon i feel a fresher air--the salt, vivifying air of the sea, that i have not breathed for five months. i inspire it with avidity, with all the power of my lungs. the outer extremity of the passage appears against the star-studded sky. there is not even a shadow in the way. perhaps i shall be able to get outside. i lay down, and crawl along noiselessly to the orifice and peer out. not a soul is in sight! by skirting the rocks towards the east, to the side which cannot be approached from the sea on account of the reefs and which is not likely to be watched, i reach a narrow excavation about two hundred and twenty-five yards from where the point of the coast extends towards the northwest. at last i am out of the cavern. i am not free, but it is the beginning of freedom. on the point the forms of a few sentries stand out against the clear sky, so motionless that they might be mistaken for pieces of the rock. on the horizon to the west the position lights of the warship show in a luminous line. from a few gray patches discernable in the east, i calculate that it must be about five o'clock in the morning. _november _.--it is now light enough for me to be able to complete my notes relating the details of my visit to thomas roch's laboratory--the last lines my hand will trace, perhaps. i have begun to write, and shall dot down the incidents of the attack as they occur. the light damp mist that hangs over the water soon lifts under the influence of the breeze, and at last i can distinguish the warships. there are five of them, and they are lying in a line about six miles off, and consequently beyond the range of roch's engines. my fear that after passing in sight of the bermudas the squadron would continue on its way to the antilles or mexico was therefore unfounded. no, there it is, awaiting broad daylight in order to attack back cup. there is a movement on the coast. three or four pirates emerge from the rocks, the sentries are recalled and draw in, and the entire band is soon assembled. they do not seek shelter inside the cavern, knowing full well that the ships can never get near enough for the shells of the big guns to reach, the island. i run no risk of being discovered, for only my head protrudes above the hole in the rock and no one is likely to come this way. the only thing that worries me is that serko, or somebody else may take it into his head to see if i am in my cell, and if necessary to lock me in, though what they have to fear from me i cannot conceive. at twenty-five minutes past seven: ker karraje, engineer serko and captain spade advance to the extremity of the point, where they sweep the north-western horizon with their telescopes. behind them the six trestles are installed, in the grooves of which are roch's autopropulsive engines. thirty-five minutes past seven: smoke arises from the stacks of the warships, which are getting under way and will soon be within range of the engines. horrible cries of joy, salvos of hurrahs--howls of wild beasts i might more appropriately say--arise from the pirate horde. at this moment engineer serko quits ker karraje, whom he leaves with captain spade, and enters the cavern, no doubt to fetch thomas roch. when ker karraje orders the latter to launch his engines against the ships will he remember what i told him? will not his crime appear to him in all its horror? will he refuse to obey? no, i am only too convinced of the contrary. it is useless to entertain any illusion on the subject. the inventor believes he is on his own property. they are going to attack it. he will defend it. the five warships slowly advance, making for the point. perhaps they imagine on board that thomas roch has not given up his last and greatest secret to the pirates--and, as a matter of fact, he had not done so when i threw the keg into the lagoon. if the commanders propose to land storming parties and the ships advance into the zone of danger there will soon be nothing left of them but bits of shapeless floating wreckage. here comes thomas roch accompanied by engineer serko. on issuing from the passage both go to the trestle that is pointing towards the leading warship. ker karraje and captain spade are awaiting them. as far as i am able to judge, roch is calm. he knows what he is going to do. no hesitation troubles the soul of the hapless man whom hatred has led astray. between his fingers shines the glass phial containing the deflagrator liquid. he then gazes towards the nearest ship, which is about five miles' distant. she is a cruiser of about two thousand five hundred tons--not more. she flies no flag, but from her build i take her to belong to a nation for which no frenchman can entertain any particular regard. the four other warships remain behind. it is this cruiser which is to begin the attack. let her use her guns, then, since the pirates allow her to approach, and may the first of her projectiles strike thomas roch! while engineer serko is estimating the distance, roch places himself behind the trestle. three engines are resting on it, charged with the explosive, and which are assured a long trajectory by the fusing matter without it being necessary to impart a gyratory movement to them--as in the case of inventor turpin's gyroscopic projectiles. besides, if they drop within a few hundred yards of the vessel, they will be quite near enough to utterly destroy it. the time has come. "thomas roch!" engineer serko cries, and points to the cruiser. the latter is steaming slowly towards the northwestern point of the island and is between four and five miles off. roch nods assent, and waves them back from the trestle. ker karraje, captain spade and the others draw back about fifty paces. thomas roch then takes the stopper from the phial which he holds in his right hand, and successively pours into a hole in the rear-end of each engine a few drops of the liquid, which mixes with the fusing matter. forty-five seconds elapse--the time necessary for the combination to be effected--forty-five seconds during which it seems to me that my heart ceases to beat. a frightful whistling is then heard, and the three engines tear through the air, describing a prolonged curve at a height of three hundred feet, and pass the cruiser. have they missed it? is the danger over? no! the engines, after the manner of artillery captain chapel's discoid projectile, return towards the doomed vessel like an australian boomerang. the next instant the air is shaken with a violence comparable to that which would be caused by the explosion of a magazine of melinite or dynamite, back cup island trembles to its very foundations. the cruiser has disappeared,--blown to pieces. the effect is that of the zalinski shell, but centupled by the infinite power of roch's fulgurator. what shouts the bandits raise as they rush towards the extremity of the point! ker karraje, engineer serko, and captain spade remain rooted to the spot, hardly able to credit the evidence of their own eyes. as to thomas roch, he stands with folded arms, and flashing eyes, his face radiant with pride and triumph. i understand, while i abhor his feelings. if the other warships approach they will share the same fate as the cruiser. they will inevitably be destroyed. oh! if they would but give up the struggle and withdraw to safety, even though my last hope would go with them! the nations can consult and arrive at some other plan for destroying the island. they can surround the place with a belt of ships that the pirates cannot break through and starve them to death like so many rats in a hole. but i know that the warships will not retire, even though they know they are going to certain death. one after the other they will all make the attempt. and i am right. signals are exchanged between them. almost immediately clouds of black smoke arise and the vessels again advance. one of them, under forced draught, distances the others in her anxiety to bring her big guns quickly into action. at all risks i issue from my hole, and gaze at the on-coming warship with feverish eyes, awaiting, without being able to prevent it, another catastrophe. this vessel, which visibly grows larger as it comes nearer, is a cruiser of about the same tonnage as the one that preceded her. no flag is flying and i cannot guess her nationality. she continues steaming at full speed in an effort to pass the zone of danger before other engines can be launched. but how can she escape them since they will swoop back upon her? thomas roch places himself behind the second trestle as the cruiser passes on to the surface of the abysm in which she will in turn soon be swallowed up. no sound disturbs the stillness. suddenly the rolling of drums and the blare of bugles is heard on board the warship. i know those bugle calls: they are french bugles! great god! she is one of the ships of my own country's navy and a french inventor is about to destroy her! no! it shall not be. i will rush towards thomas roch--shout to him that she is a french ship. he does not, cannot, know it. at a sign from engineer serko the inventor has raised the phial. the bugles sound louder and more strident. it is the salute to the flag. a flag unfurls to the breeze--the tricolor, whose blue, white and red sections stand out luminously against the sky. ah! what is this? i understand! thomas roch is fascinated at the sight of his national emblem. slowly he lowers his arm as the flag flutters up to the mast-head. then he draws back and covers his eyes with his hand. heavens above! all sentiment of patriotism is not then dead in his ulcerated heart, seeing that it beats at the sight of his country's flag! my emotion is not less than his. at the risk of being seen--and what do i now care if i am seen?--i creep over the rocks. i will be there to sustain thomas roch and prevent him from weakening. if i pay for it with my life i will once more adjure him in the name of his country. i will cry to him: "frenchman, it is the tricolor that flies on yonder ship! frenchman, it is a very part of france that is approaching you! frenchman, would you be so criminal as to strike it?" but my intervention will not be necessary. thomas roch is not a prey to one of the fits to which he was formerly subject. he is perfectly sane. when he found himself facing the flag he understood--and drew back. a few pirates approach to lead him to the trestle again. he struggles and pushes them from him. ker karraje and engineer serko run up. they point to the rapidly advancing ship. they order him to launch his engines. thomas roch refuses. captain spade and the others, mad with rage, menace him--curse him--strike him--try to wrest the phial from him. roch throws it on the ground and crushes it under foot. then panic seizes upon the crowd of wretches. the cruiser has passed the zone and they cannot return her fire. shells begin to rain all over the island, bursting the rocks in every direction. but where is thomas roch? has he been killed by one of the projectiles? no, i see him for the last time as he dashes into the passage. ker karraje, engineer serko and the others follow him to seek shelter inside of back cup. i will not return to the cavern at any price, even if i get killed by staying where i am. i will jot down my final notes and when the french sailors land on the point i will go-- end of engineer simon hart's notes. chapter xviii. on board the "tonnant." after the failure of lieutenant davon's mission with the _sword_, the english authorities waited in vain for the expedition to return, and the conviction at length gained ground that the bold sailors had perished; but whether the _sword_ had been lost by striking against a rock or had been destroyed by ker karraje's pirates, could not, of course, be ascertained. the object of the expedition, based upon the indications of the document found in the keg that was thrown up on the shore at st. george, was to carry off thomas roch ere his engines were completed. the french inventor having been recovered--without forgetting engineer simon hart--he was to be handed over to the care of the bermudan authorities. that done, there would be nothing to fear from his fulgurator when the island was attacked. when, however, the _sword_ had been given up for lost, another expedition of a different kind, was decided upon. the time that had elapsed--nearly eight weeks--from the date of the document found in the keg, had to be taken into consideration. it was thought that during the interval, ker karraje might have gained possession of roch's secrets. an _entente_ concluded between the maritime powers, resulted in the sending of five warships to bermudan waters. as there was a vast cavern inside back cup mountain, it was decided to attempt to bring the latter down like the walls of a bastion, by bombarding it with powerful modern artillery. the squadron assembled at the entrance to the chesapeake, in virginia, and sailed for the archipelago, which was sighted on the evening of november . the next morning the vessel selected for the first attack, steamed forward. it was about four and a half miles from the island, when three engines, after passing the vessel, swerved round and exploded about sixty yards from her. she sank immediately. the effect of the explosion, which was superior to any previously obtained by new explosives, was instantaneous. even at the distance they were from the spot where it occurred, the four remaining ships felt the shock severely. two things were to be deduced from this sudden catastrophe: .--the pirate ker karraje was in possession of roch's fulgurator. .--the new engine possessed the destructive power attributed to it by its inventor. after the disappearance of the unfortunate cruiser, the other vessels lowered boats to pick up a few survivors who were clinging to the floating wreckage. then it was that the signals were exchanged and the warships started towards the island. the swiftest of them, the _tonnant_, a french cruiser, forged ahead while the others forced their draught in an effort to catch up with her. the _tonnant_, at the risk of being blown to pieces in turn, penetrated the danger zone half a mile, and then ran up her flag while manoeuvring to bring her heavy guns into action. from the bridge the officers could see ker karraje's band scattered on the rocks of the island. the occasion was an excellent one for getting a shot at them before the bombardment of their retreat was begun, and fire was opened with the result that the pirates made a rush to get into the cavern. a few minutes later there was a shock terrific enough to shake the sky down. where the mountain had been, naught but a heap of smoking, crumbling rocks was to be seen. back cup had become a group of jagged reefs against which the sea, that had been thrown back like a gigantic tidal wave, was beating and frothing. what was the cause of the explosion? had it been voluntarily caused by the pirates when they realized that escape was impossible? the _tonnant_ had not been seriously damaged by the flying rocks. her boats were lowered and made towards all that was left of back cup. the landing parties explored the ruins, and found a few horribly mangled corpses. not a vestige of the cavern was to be seen. one body, and one only, was found intact. it was lying on the northeast side of the reefs. in one hand, tightly clasped, was a note-book, the last line of which was incomplete. a close examination showed that the man was still breathing. he was conveyed on board the _tonnant_, where it was learned from the note-book that he was simon hart. for some time his life was despaired of, but he was eventually brought round, and from the answers made to the questions addressed to him the following conclusion was reached: moved to his very soul at the sight of the tricolor flag, being at last conscious of the crime of _lèse-patrie_ he was about to commit, thomas roch rushed through the passage to the magazine where a considerable quantity of his explosive was stored. then, before he could be prevented, brought about the terrible explosion which destroyed the island of back cup. and now ker karraje and his pirates have disappeared--and with them thomas roch and the secret of his invention. the end. end of the voyage extraordinaire out with garibaldi mr. henty's historical tales. the cat of bubastes: a story of ancient egypt.... _s._ the young carthaginian: a story of the times of hannibal. ... _s._ for the temple: a tale of the fall of jerusalem.... _s._ beric the briton: a story of the roman invasion.... _s._ the dragon and the raven: or, the days of king alfred.... _s._ wulf the saxon: a story of the norman conquest.... _s._ a knight of the white cross: the siege of rhodes.... _s._ in freedom's cause: a story of wallace and bruce.... _s._ the lion of st. mark: a story of venice in the th century.... _s._ st. george for england: a tale of cressy and poitiers.... _s._ a march on london: a story of wat tyler.... _s._ both sides the border: a tale of hotspur and glendower.... _s._ at agincourt: a tale of the white hoods of paris.... _s._ by right of conquest: or, with cortez in mexico.... _s._ st. bartholomew's eve: a tale of the huguenot wars.... _s._ by pike and dyke: a tale of the rise of the dutch republic.... _s._ by england's aid: or, the freeing of the netherlands.... _s._ under drake's flag: a tale of the spanish main.... _s._ the lion of the north: a tale of gustavus adolphus.... _s._ won by the sword: a tale of the thirty years' war.... _s._ when london burned: a story of the great fire.... _s._ orange and green: a tale of the boyne and limerick.... _s._ a jacobite exile: in the service of charles xii.... _s._ the bravest of the brave: or, with peterborough in spain.... _s._ bonnie prince charlie: a tale of fontenoy and culloden.... _s._ with clive in india: or, the beginnings of an empire.... _s._ with frederick the great: the seven years' war.... _s._ with wolfe in canada: or, the winning of a continent.... _s._ true to the old flag: the american war of independence.... _s._ held fast for england: a tale of the siege of gibraltar.... _s._ in the reign of terror: the french revolution.... _s._ no surrender! a tale of the rising in la vendée.... _s._ a roving commission: a story of the hayti insurrection.... _s._ the tiger of mysore: the war with tippoo saib.... _s._ at aboukir and acre: napoleon's invasion of egypt.... _s._ with moore at corunna: a tale of the peninsular war.... _s._ under wellington's command: the peninsular war.... _s._ with cochrane the dauntless: a tale of his exploits.... _s._ through the fray: a story of the luddite riots.... _s._ through russian snows: the retreat from moscow.... _s._ one of the th: a story of waterloo.... _s._ in greek waters: a story of the grecian war ( ).... _s._ on the irrawaddy: a story of the first burmese war.... _s._ through the sikh war: a tale of the punjaub.... _s._ maori and settler: a story of the new zealand war.... _s._ with lee in virginia: a story of the american civil war.... _s._ by sheer pluck: a tale of the ashanti war.... _s._ for name and fame: or, through afghan passes.... _s._ the dash for khartoum: a tale of the nile expedition.... _s._ condemned as a nihilist: a story of escape from siberia.... _s._ london: blackie & son, limited; glasgow and dublin. [illustration: "frank engaged in a tough fight with the officer who held the flag"] out with garibaldi a story of the liberation of italy by g. a. henty author of "the lion of st. mark" "no surrender!" "st. george for england" "under wellington's command" &c. _with eight illustrations by w. rainey, r.i._ london blackie & son, limited, old bailey, e.c glasgow and dublin preface the invasion of the kingdom of the two sicilies by garibaldi with a force of but a thousand irregular troops is one of the most romantic episodes ever recorded in military history. in many respects it rivals the conquest of mexico by cortez. the latter won, not by the greater bravery of his troops, but by their immense superiority in weapons and defensive armour. upon the contrary, garibaldi's force were ill-armed and practically without artillery, and were opposed by an army of a hundred and twenty thousand men carrying the best weapons of the time, and possessing numerous and powerful artillery. in both cases the invaders were supported by a portion of the population who had been reduced to a state of servitude, and who joined them against their oppressors. there is another point of resemblance between these remarkable expeditions, inasmuch as the leaders of both were treated with the grossest ingratitude by the monarchs for whom they had gained such large acquisitions of territory. for the leading incidents in the campaign i have relied chiefly upon garibaldi's autobiography and the personal narrative of the campaign by captain forbes, r.n. g. a. henty. contents chap. page i. awaiting the attack ii. a desperate defence iii. troubles iv. a sudden summons v. on the way vi. the villa spinola vii. the expedition sails viii. palermo ix. hard fighting x. with bixio xi. a hazardous expedition xii. an ambuscade xiii. across the straits xiv. a discovery xv. the advance from reggio xvi. naples xvii. the battle of the volturno xviii. capua illustrations page "frank engaged in a tough fight with the officer who held the flag" _frontis._ "walking up and down the room like a caged lion" "his assailant fell back and disappeared" "the hinges of the door were broken off" "in her excitement she fell on her knees" "'silence, signors!' he said in a loud voice" "it was not until nullo ordered four men to load ... that he would answer" "he went up to percival and put his hand on his shoulder" map showing position of the opposing forces round capua plan of the battle of the volturno out with garibaldi. chapter i. awaiting the attack. on april th, , two men were seated in a room whose open windows commanded a view down the tiber. a sound of confused uproar rose from the city. "i am afraid, leonard," the elder of the two men said, "that the crisis is at hand. the news that the french are landing to-day at civita vecchia is ominous indeed. it is true that oudïnot has sent a message saying that the flag he has hoisted is that of peace and order. the people will not believe that he comes as an enemy; but, for my part, i have no doubt of it." "nor have i," the other replied. "it was bad enough that we had austria against us, sardinia powerless, and all the princelings of italy hostile; but that france, having proclaimed herself a republic, should now interfere to crush us and to put the pope back upon his throne is nothing short of monstrous. i feared that it would be so, but mazzini had so much faith in his influence with members of the french assembly that he has buoyed up the hopes of the populace, and even now the people generally believe that the french come as friends." "it is doubtless the influence of their new president, napoleon, that has turned the scale against us," the other said gloomily. "i do not suppose that he cares about the pope one way or the other, but it is his interest to pose as his champion. by so doing he will gain the good opinion of austria, of naples, and the ducal rulers of the italian states. even prussia, protestant as she is, would view with satisfaction the suppression of a rising like ours, for her throne well-nigh tottered in last year's explosion. russia, too, which perhaps more than any other power has reason to fear a popular rising, would feel grateful to napoleon for undertaking to crush free thought in rome. it is evident that the french president's move is a politic one. do you think that we shall fight, leonard?" "i fancy so. i have no belief in mazzini's courage, president though he may be. garibaldi is the popular hero, and i know him well enough to be sure that if he has but a handful of men to back him he will fight till the end. we had the odds as heavily against us when we were comrades-in-arms at rio, with but the susie and a merchantman with three or four guns against the whole brazilian navy, or when, with the italian volunteers, two hundred strong, we several times withstood the assault of five times our number. you will see we shall fight; but there can be no question what the end must be. we may repulse oudïnot's attack; but france could send any amount of reinforcements to him, while we have no friends to go to. it is well that your wife, muriel, and the boy were sent off a month since to leghorn, where, if we escape from what must happen here, we can join them and take ship for england." "i am sorry that you should be involved in this affair, leonard." "i am not sorry," the other said. "in the first place, after being here more than ten years, i have come to hate the tyranny and oppression, i don't say of the pope himself, but of his underlings, as much as you do. in the second place, i would fight by the side of garibaldi in almost any quarrel. i do not agree with him in his love for republics, but he has infected me with his hatred of tyrants and his burning patriotism. he is a glorious man; and after having been his comrade, i may almost say his brother, in adventures, hardships, and battles for two years, it would be strange indeed if i hesitated to join him in his crusade to rid italy of her tyrants. i am a soldier, and i own to a fondness for fighting when convinced that the cause is a just one. i know your opinions on the subject; but i suppose you do not propose to fight yourself?" "i do indeed, leonard. i do not say that i should be a match for a strong and active man in a bout with swords, though of course i learned the use of the rapier when a student, but at fifty i can at least use a musket as well as a younger man, and if rome fights i fight with her. ah, here comes garibaldi!" the door opened, and a man entered, whose appearance, even had he not been dressed in a red shirt, blue trousers of rough cloth, and a soft, broad-brimmed wide-awake, would have been remarked wherever he went. of middle height, he was exceptionally wide across the shoulders and deep in the chest; he wore his hair and beard long--both were of a golden yellow, giving a remarkably leonine look to his face; his eyes were blue, and the general expression of his face, when not angered, was pleasant and good-tempered, although marked also by resolution and firmness. at that time his name was comparatively little known in europe, although the extraordinary bravery and enterprise that he had shown at rio and monte video had marked him as a leader of guerilla warfare, possessing many characteristics that recalled the exploits of lord cochrane. it was only when, after his services had been declined by carlo alberto, king of sardinia, he was, with a few hundred followers, making his way to aid in the defence of venice against the austrians, that, on hearing that rome had risen, he hurried to aid the movement, and on his arrival there was greeted with enthusiasm by the populace, who had been informed by mazzini of his exploits. "you have heard the news?" he said as he entered. "yes; we were just talking it over," leonard percival said, "and conclude, as i suppose you do, that the french come as enemies." "there can be no doubt about it, my friend," garibaldi said. "if they had said that they came as enemies i might have doubted them; but after the evasive answer their general gave to the deputation mazzini sent them this morning, i have no question whatever that they will attack us to-morrow." "and you will fight?" "of course. we shall beat them, i think; in the end rome must fall, but our resistance will not have been in vain. the stand we shall make against tyranny will touch every heart throughout italy. it will show that, ground down as the people have been for centuries, the old fire of the romans is not extinct. this will be but the beginning. when it is seen that the despots cannot maintain their authority save by the aid of foreign powers, there will be revolt after revolt until italy is free. there were some grand lines you once told me as we sat round a camp fire, percival, that exactly express my thoughts." "i know what you mean," the englishman said. "they were byron's: for freedom's battle once begun, bequeath'd by bleeding sire to son, though baffled oft, is ever won." "they are splendid and true," garibaldi said enthusiastically. "so shall it be with us. this is our first battle--we cannot hope to win it; but our guns will tell italy and europe that we have awoke at last, that, after being slaves so long that we had come to be looked upon as a people content to be ruled by despots, we are still men, and that, having once begun the fight for freedom, we will maintain it until freedom is won." "and now, what are your plans for to-morrow?" "as soon as the french are seen approaching the city the church bells will ring and the alarm be beaten in the streets. the word has been passed round that all are to assemble instantly. the troops that have been organised will first pour out; the rest will follow with such arms as they have. we shall simply rush upon the french. in such a fight there is no need for manoeuvring; and it is well that it is so, for there the french would be our superiors. we shall simply attack and drive them back. we may take it for granted that, being boastful creatures and believing that they have but to show themselves and we shall lay down our arms and implore their mercy, they will be wholly taken by surprise and disconcerted by our onslaught. can you recommend anything better, my friend?" "no. with such a force as yours, newly raised and wholly unused to discipline, it is probable that at the first engagement, and with the advantage of surprise, they will, as you say, drive back the french; but you will have to adopt different tactics afterwards: to stand on the defensive and prevent their entering the city as long as possible, and to defend every street and lane, as the spaniards did at saragossa. they may take the city at last, but at so terrible a cost of blood that we may be sure that when you rise again the french people will not allow another expedition to be undertaken for a cause in which they have no concern, and which would entail such heavy sacrifices." "will you have a separate command, percival? you have but to choose one, and it is yours." "i will fight by your side," the englishman said briefly. "i know that i shall get my full share of the work then." "and you, professor?" "i shall go out with the rest. the students have elected me their captain, and i shall, of course, lead them. it is a simple matter. i see the enemy in front, and i go at them. even i, a man of peace all my life, understand that. i shall have with me at least a dozen of my colleagues, and if i am shot they can direct our boys as well as i can." "good!" garibaldi said. "if i thought that you could keep the students in hand, and then dash into the thick of it if you see our men wavering anywhere, i should say do so; but i know that it would be impossible. they will long to be in the front rank and to set an example to others, and i shall feel confident that, wherever they may be, there will be no faltering. your chief difficulty will be in restraining their ardour. well, my friends, i have many things to arrange, so must be going. you will find me in my quarters at nine o'clock this evening, percival. the officers and the heads of the various quarters of the town are to meet me there at that hour, to arrange where the assembling-places are to be when the alarm is given, and the streets through which they must move when we see at which point the french are going to attack us." "i will come down with him," the professor said. "i will send word to my colleagues where to meet me an hour later, so that i can inform them of the arrangements." and with a nod garibaldi, who had been unanimously elected general of the roman forces, strolled away. leonard percival had been a captain in the british army, but having become tired of garrison life during the long peace, had sold out in , and sailed for south america, where there were always opportunities for a man of action to distinguish himself. he took part in the struggle of rio grande for separation from brazil. here he first made the acquaintance of garibaldi, and shared with him in the many perilous adventures and desperate fights of that war. becoming disgusted with the factions and intrigues that were rampant at rio, he left the service of the little republic and returned to england. he was the second son of a wealthy english gentleman, who had viewed with much disapproval his leaving the army and undertaking the life of a soldier of fortune when there was no occasion for his doing so, as he had an allowance amply sufficient for him to live upon. his father was not much surprised when, after staying for a month at home, leonard told him that, having a taste for art, he had made up his mind to adopt it as a profession, and should go out to rome to study. this seemed to him better than wandering about the world fighting in quarrels in which he had no concern, and he had no valid reply to his son when the latter said,-- "you see, father, you cannot expect me to spend my life in absolute laziness. i must be doing something. the life of a club lounger is the last i should choose. i have no liking for a country life--if i had i would go out to australia or canada and settle; but i know that in a few months i should be home again, for i could not stand a life of solitude. if you can suggest anything better i shall be ready, as far as possible, to be guided by your wishes." "you may as well have your own way, leonard. i suppose it will come to that in the end, and therefore you may as well do it first as last; and at any rate, a few months in rome will be a change for you, and i shall not be expecting by every post a communication saying that you have been killed." so captain percival went to rome, without any idea of staying there more than a year. his plans, however, were changed when he met and fell in love with muriel, the only child of professor forli, a man of almost european reputation for his learning and attainments. his wooing had been an uneventful one. his income was amply sufficient, in the professor's eyes, to keep his daughter in comfort, and, moreover, the master under whom leonard was studying gave an excellent account of his ability and industry, and in the marriage took place. previous to this leonard had obtained his father's consent to his intended marriage, although not his approval. "i consider that it is one more piece of folly," he wrote. "there was no reason in the world why you should not have settled at home and made a good marriage. i had specially hoped that this would have been the case, as tom still remains a bachelor. however, there are some redeeming points in the matter. i have, through a friend, who is a member of the athenæum, learned that professor forli's name is well known, and that he is considered one of the most learned men in italy. in the next place, the young lady's mother is, as you have told me, an englishwoman of good family, and her daughter is therefore only half an italian. from your description of her, allowing for the usual exaggeration in such cases, she takes after her mother, and might pass anywhere as of unmixed english blood, so i may hope that i shall not have black-haired, swarthy little grandchildren running about. i shall add a couple of hundred a year to your allowance, as i always intended to do when you married." a year later captain percival brought his wife home to england, and stayed there for some time; and here a son was born, who was christened frank, after his grandfather. whatever objections the latter might at first have felt to his son's marriage, they were altogether removed by this visit; neither in appearance nor in speech did his wife betray her foreign origin, for her mother had always conversed with her in english, and she spoke it without the slightest accent. she was now twenty, was strikingly handsome, and very graceful in her movements. he would gladly have kept her and his son with him; but when they had consented to her marriage, her parents had bargained that she should, at any rate, spend a large portion of her time with them, as they had no other children. moreover, her husband was now devoted to art, and although he had only been working for two years, his pictures were already beginning to attract attention. mr. percival was, therefore, obliged to content himself with the promise that they would come over every year for at least four months. the arrangement, however, was not carried out, for, a few months after their return to italy, mr. percival died suddenly. his death made no difference pecuniarily to his son, as he had settled upon him a sum sufficient to produce an income equal to that which he had before been allowed. his elder brother came out a year later, and stayed for a few weeks with him. "you must send this little chap over to england to be educated, leonard," he had said, "if you will persist in sticking in this rotten old city. i don't suppose i shall ever marry; and if not, of course some day he will come in for the property." "but why on earth shouldn't you marry, tom? you know what a trouble it was to our father that you did not do so--it was a real grievance to him." "well, i should really have been glad to oblige him; but somehow or other i never saw any girl whom i earnestly desired to make my wife, or, as i suppose you would call it, fell in love with. i very much prefer knocking about in my yacht, or travelling, to settling down. of course i always spent a month or two, twice a year, at my father's, and was in town three months in the season--that is to say, when i did not get sick of it. then i either went up the mediterranean or to the west indies, or knocked about round england for three or four months, and finished the year with a run up the nile, or out to india or china. now i feel even less inclined to marry than i did before, for if i did, it would simply mean eight months in the year down in the country, and four in london. of course, if i ever do fall in love--and at forty it is hardly likely--i shall marry; i don't bind myself in any way to remain single. anyhow, i am glad that you are married, and that, when i go, there will be another frank percival, who we must hope will be of a more settled disposition than either of us, to reign in the old place." so things had gone on quietly until, in , the revolution in paris was followed by an upheaval all over europe. the ascent of pius ix. to the papal chair was hailed by the liberal party in italy as the commencement of a new era. he was accredited, and not unjustly, with liberal views, and it was believed that he would introduce reforms into the papal states, and act as a centre round which patriots could rally. unfortunately, the party of reform in italy was divided into two classes; of one of these the marquis d'azeglio was the leading spirit; he was a moderate reformer, and looked to a union of italy under a constitutional monarch. carlo alberto, the king of sardinia, seemed to him the only man who could assume that position, and for years d'azeglio had worked quietly to this end. a more violent spirit was however working with as much zeal and energy in another direction. mazzini was an extreme republican of the narrowest kind; he was in communication with men of the same type in france, and had formed secret societies all over italy. he and those with him were anxious to obtain the countenance and prestige which a pope of advanced liberal opinions would give to their party, and pius ix. was received with enthusiastic acclamations by the republican party of rome. but, liberally inclined as he was, he shrank from committing himself wholly to the reformers. he was a weak man; and although his vanity was gratified by his reception, and although he had sincerely desired to introduce broad reforms, he hesitated when called upon to carry those reforms into action. the king of sardinia had been pushed forward by the mazzinians, until he compromised himself, and made advances to the pope, when in austria violated the papal territories at ferrara. but the pope hesitated. his army was already near the frontier; but he declared that he had no intention of making war, and desired only to protect his territory. the news of the movement had reached monte video; and garibaldi, believing that the pope would stand forth as the champion for the freedom of italy, wrote, offering his services and those of his followers, the greater part of whom were italians who had been exiled for their political opinions. no answer was received from him; and garibaldi took the matter into his own hands, and with eighty-five italians sailed for europe. on arriving at alicante he learned that a revolution had broken out in paris, that carlo alberto had given his people a constitution, that lombardy and venice had risen, that the milanese had driven the austrians out of the city, that there were insurrections in vienna and berlin, that tuscany and rome were sending thousands of volunteers to fight in the national cause, and that even ferdinand of naples had promised his people a constitution. garibaldi was unavoidably detained for some time at nice, his native town, and before he was able to move a change had set in. the lombards and venetians had both quarrelled among themselves. mazzini's party were struggling against those who would have made carlo alberto king of italy. the piedmontese, after brilliant successes at first, were obliged to retreat. the roman volunteers had been forced to capitulate. garibaldi went to see the king, and offer to act with his volunteers in his service; but his application was slighted, and this threw him into the hands of the revolutionary party. it was a grievous mistake on the part of the king; but the latter could not forget that garibaldi had been a rebel against him, nor could garibaldi forget that it was the king who had sentenced him to death and had sent him into exile. he therefore hurried to milan, where he was received with enthusiasm. the king moved to the aid of milan, against which the austrians were advancing; but in that city the party of mazzini was predominant, and they refused to open the gates to him; and early in august the king came to terms with the austrians, and milan surrendered. for a time garibaldi's following alone maintained the war. carrying on a guerilla warfare, he, with fifteen hundred men, was surrounded by five thousand austrians, but he effected a marvellous retreat, and retired into switzerland. here he was taken ill, and was forced to rest for some months. he then went to genoa. the extraordinary skill and bravery which he had shown during the campaign induced the king of sardinia to offer him the rank of general in his army, that being the grade that he had held in monte video. but garibaldi refused, and with two hundred and fifty volunteers started for venice, which was besieged by the austrians. on hearing, however, of the rising in rome and the flight of the pope--who had now abandoned his liberal professions, and had thrown himself into the hands of austria--garibaldi changed his course, and his ranks being swollen as he marched along, he arrived at rome at the head of fifteen hundred men. here he met his comrade in the struggle at rio and monte video. during his six years' residence in rome captain percival had imbibed that hatred of the austrians and detestation of the despotisms under which the italian states groaned, that was felt by all with whom he came in contact, his father-in-law, professor forli, being one of the leaders of the liberal party in rome. his wife, too, was an enthusiast in the cause; and although he felt no sympathy whatever with mazzini and the revolutionary party, he was, even before the arrival of garibaldi, resolved to take up arms should rome be attacked. the presence of garibaldi still further confirmed this resolution; but as soon as he heard that a french expedition had set sail, he had insisted that his wife and child should leave the city, for he by no means shared the general belief that the french were coming as allies. her mother accompanied her to leghorn, for the professor was as anxious as percival that his wife and daughter should be in a place of safety. they were most reluctant to go, and only yielded when signor forli and captain percival declared that their presence in rome would hamper their movements and render it impossible for them to make their escape if the city should be taken, which both foresaw would be the case. they promised that when they found all was lost they would leave the city and join them at leghorn. madame forli was to take her maiden name again; and as two english ladies staying at an hotel at leghorn they would be safe from annoyance even if a french or austrian army marched through the town. the professor spoke english well, and once out of the city he and leonard would be able to pass as two english tourists travelling from naples to florence. had the pope sought refuge in capua or malta, events might have taken a very different turn; but he threw himself into the hands of the king of naples, and went the length of pronouncing him to be a model monarch, a pattern to the rest of europe, and this at a time when the disclosures that had been made respecting the horrible dungeons into which all neapolitans suspected of entertaining liberal views were thrown, were filling europe with horror. this change of front extinguished the hopes of those who had imagined that the pope would become the centre of liberal thought in italy, rendered the people of the papal dominions desperate, and vastly increased the party of mazzini and the extreme republicans. on february th a constituent assembly was held in rome, and the republic was proclaimed. garibaldi was appointed to defend the frontier. volunteers poured in from all parts of italy, and as the king of sardinia had again taken up arms, a force was moving forward to support him, when the news came of his defeat at novara, followed by his abdication and the succession of victor emmanuel to the throne. austria, naples, and spain were now eager to crush the revolution in rome; but the resolution of the romans was unshaken, and they still hoped to be able to maintain themselves with, as they expected, the aid of france. the terrible blow that had been inflicted on finding that the french were coming as enemies, instead of as friends, did not shake their determination, although it was now with a courage of despair rather than of hope that they prepared for the conflict. rome must fall; but at least it would prove itself worthy of its best traditions, and set an example that would not be lost upon the peoples of italy. anything, they felt, would be better than the reign of a pope in close alliance with the tyrant of naples; and the evening after the french landing saw rome tranquil and grimly determined. doubtless many of those who were resolved to fight till the last were buoyed up with the hope that in any case they would be able to make their escape when the action was over. rome covered a great extent of ground, and the french army was not of sufficient strength to form a cordon round it. captain percival had, a fortnight before, sent his finished and unfinished canvases and all his most valuable belongings down to civita vecchia, and had shipped them for england. he knew the reckless destruction carried out by an army after a successful assault, and that possibly, if it came to street to street fighting, a considerable portion of the city might be burnt. the professor had similarly sent away his very valuable collection of coins, books, and manuscripts. at nine o'clock they went down to the mansion that garibaldi occupied. a long discussion took place, and routes were decided upon for the various contingents to follow when the alarm was given. news had been brought in from time to time during the day as to the movements of the french, and the point at which they would probably assault was therefore now known. it would be either at the porta cavalleggieri or at the porta san pancrazio. captain percival and the professor returned to the former's house, where the professor had taken up his residence since his wife had gone to leghorn, and sat talking until a late hour. they were roused early the next morning by the ringing of the great bells of the cathedral, which were joined almost immediately by those of all the other churches in the city. captain percival had lain down fully dressed, and springing to his feet, he buckled on a sword, placed a brace of pistols in his belt, and then ran down to the porta san pancrazio, where, as he knew, garibaldi would take up his post. the general, indeed, had not slept at all, but, fearful that the french might attempt an assault under cover of darkness, kept watch round the western wall, along which he had posted the men he could most depend upon. even before the englishman joined garibaldi the roar of the guns on the wall told that the french were already advancing. "it is like old times, comrade," garibaldi said, with a strong grip of his hand, "only it is on a larger scale than we were accustomed to in south america. oudïnot is beginning with a blunder, for he is making for the porta cavalleggieri, which is flanked by the walls of the vatican. he is over-confident, and i do not imagine that he expects anything like a serious resistance. i think we shall certainly beat him back there, and that then he will attack us here. will you go to the other gate? all my old comrades know you, and, indeed, all the volunteers, as you have assisted to drill them." oudïnot, indeed, had believed that the force of regular troops he had with him would easily brush aside the resistance of a half-armed mob. captain percival hurried away. the volunteers were already gathered on the walls, and in every street the townspeople were hurrying out, armed with weapons of all kinds. on the roofs and at the windows of the houses women were clustered thickly, waving their handkerchiefs and scarves, and shouting words of encouragement and applause to the men. to the roar of cannon was now added the rattle of musketry. when he reached the gate he found a heavy column of volunteers drawn up there, while behind them was a dense crowd of excited citizens. from the wall he saw the french advancing; the leading regiment was but a few hundred yards away. they were moving steadily forward, apparently heedless of the cannon that thundered on their flank and face. the musketry they could afford to despise, for they were beyond the distance at which any accurate shooting was possible; and, indeed, the firing was of the wildest description, as comparatively few of the men had ever handled a gun until a few weeks previously. captain percival went up to the officer who was in command, and with whom he was well acquainted. although the massive walls still stood, the gates had long since disappeared, their places being occupied simply by barriers, where the duty on provisions and goods coming into the city was collected. "the men are clamouring to be let out," he said. "what do you think, captain percival?" "i should let them go soon. they are full of dash and enthusiasm at present, and would fight far better on the offensive than they would if they are kept stationary. i should keep them in hand till the french are within seventy or eighty yards of the gate. by that time they will be answering the fire from the walls, and even those in the front lines, whose muskets are still loaded, will only have time for one shot before our men are upon them. i should place three or four hundred of your steadiest men on the wall here, so that if the sortie is repulsed, they can cover the retreat by their fire." "i think that is good advice," the other said. "will you come down with me, and tell them that they shall go, but that they must not move till i give the order, and that no man is to fire until he is within ten yards of the enemy's line." it was difficult to make their voices heard above the crack of musketry and the shouts of the excited crowd; however, their words were passed from man to man, and so back among the people behind. now that they knew that they were to have their way, and that the critical movement was at hand, the shouting abated, and a stern look of determination settled on their faces. leonard percival joined a group of officers who were at the head of the volunteers, and the officer in command resumed his place on the wall, as it was all-important that, if the sortie were repulsed, he should lead his men down and oppose the entrance of the enemy until the retiring force had rallied. it was not long before a roll of musketry broke out, showing that the assailants were now returning the fire of the garibaldians on the wall. it grew louder and louder; and then, when the head of the french column was some eighty yards away, the officer on the wall gave the order, and the volunteers followed by the citizens poured out with a mighty shout. the french halted for a moment in surprise, not having dreamt that the defenders of the town would venture upon sallying out to attack them. then there was a scattered fire of musketry; but most of the barrels were already empty, and few of the balls took effect. without replying, the volunteers rushed forward, opening out as they ran to something like order. when within ten yards of the french bayonets every man delivered his fire, and then hurled himself upon the broken ranks. the struggle was a short one. the weight and impetuosity of the attack, supported as it was by a surging crowd of excited citizens, was irresistible, and the regiment broke and fled hastily to the shelter of the troops following it, leaving the ground strewn with dead and wounded. then the bugles at the gate rang out the order to the exulting crowd to retire. the officers threw themselves in front of the men, and with great difficulty checked the pursuit, and caused them to withdraw to their original position behind the wall. chapter ii. a desperate defence. after a short halt the french, having re-formed, changed their course and marched along parallel to the fortifications. captain percival had, on returning from the sortie, joined the officer on the wall, and watched alternately the movements of the french and the scene in the city. this was one of wild excitement--the men cheering and shouting, shaking each other by the hand, placing their hats on their bayonets, and waving them in answer to the wild applause of the women on the housetops. some, however, were not content at being called back, instead of being allowed to complete what they considered their partial victory; forgetting that they would have been met in a very different manner by the troops in support, who would have been prepared for the attack and would have reserved their fire until the last moment. as soon as it became evident that the french intended to make their next move against the gate of san pancrazio, the greater portion of the volunteers marched in that direction, captain percival accompanying them. "you have done well so far," garibaldi said, as he joined them. "now it will be our turn, and we shall have tougher work than you had, for they will be prepared. i suppose your loss was not heavy?" "very trifling indeed; there were but three dead brought in, and there were some ten or twelve wounded." "it was just the sort of action to raise the spirits of the men, and they are all in the humour for fighting. i shall therefore lead them out here. but we cannot hope to succeed with a rush as you did--they will be prepared for us this time; the best men would be killed before we reached them, and the mass behind, but few of whom have guns, would be simply massacred." the volunteers, who had undergone a rough sort of drill, were assembled before the french had concluded their preparations for an assault. garibaldi appointed captain percival to take charge of the gate, having with him two hundred of the volunteers, behind whom were the armed citizens. these clamoured to go out as before; but garibaldi raised his hand for silence, and then told them that he would not lead them to a useless massacre against an army of well-armed soldiers. "your duty," he said, "is to remain here. if we have to fall back, you will open to let us pass. we shall be ready to do our share when necessary; but the defence of the gate will be for a while entrusted to you. if the enemy force an entrance, fall upon them as you would upon wild beasts; their discipline and their arms would be of no great advantage in a hand-to-hand fight. each man must fight as he would were he protecting his family from a band of wolves--hatchet and pike must meet musket and bayonet, those who have knives must dive among the throng and use them fearlessly. it is a great charge that we entrust to you: we go out to fight; you will guard the city and all you hold dear." a loud cheer showed that he had struck the right chord, and the mob drew back as he led out some five thousand volunteers. these advanced to within musket-shot of the enemy, and then scattering, took shelter behind houses and cottages, walls and ruins. the french cannon opened fire as the movement was going on. these were answered by the guns on the walls, and as the french advanced a murderous fire was opened by their hidden foes. the battle raged for several hours. sometimes the french advanced close up to the position held by the garibaldians, but as soon as they did so, they were exposed also to the fire from the men on the walls; and in spite of captain percival's efforts, groups of men made their way down the road and joined the firing line, lying down until the moment should come when they could spring like wild cats upon the french. once or twice, when the assailants pressed back the garibaldians in spite of their efforts, they found themselves presently opposed by a crowd that seemed to leap from the ground, and who, with wild shouts, rushed upon them so furiously that they recoiled almost panic-struck before so unaccustomed an enemy. men were pulled down, and as garibaldi had given strict orders that no french soldier should be killed except when fighting, these were carried back triumphantly into the city. at last general oudïnot, seeing that his troops were making no progress, and that, even if they could force their way into the city, they would suffer terribly in street-fighting with such assailants, gave the order for his men to retire. this they did sullenly, while a roar of triumphant shouting rose from the volunteers, the men on the walls, and the crowd that covered every house and vantage-ground, from which a view of what was passing outside could be obtained. the italian loss was only about a hundred men killed and wounded, whereas the french lost three hundred killed and wounded and five hundred prisoners. so unprepared was the french general for such a resistance, that he had to undergo the humiliation of sending in to garibaldi to ask him to supply him with surgeons to dress the wounds of the french soldiers. during the fighting the french artillery had done far more injury to works of art in rome than they had inflicted upon the defenders, as the artillery played principally upon the dome of st. peter's and the vatican, both of which buildings were much damaged. the joy caused in rome by this victory was prodigious. fires blazed that night on all the hills, every house was illuminated, the people thronged the streets, shouting and cheering. they had, indeed, much to be proud of: five thousand almost undrilled volunteers had defeated seven thousand of the best troops of france. [illustration: "walking up and down the room like a caged lion"] the french retired at once to palo, on the road to civita vecchia. garibaldi gave his troops a few hours' rest, and then moved out to attack the french, and took up a most advantageous position. his troops were flushed with victory, while the french were cowed and dispirited; and he was on the point of attacking, when general oudïnot sent a messenger to treat for an armistice, and as a proof of his sincerity offered to give up ugo bassi, a priest who had remained by the side of a wounded man when the garibaldians had for a moment retired. garibaldi would peremptorily have refused the request, for he was confident that he should defeat and capture the whole of the french. mazzini, however, with his two associates in the triumvirate, still clung to the hope that the french would aid them, and determined to accept the armistice, fearing that were the whole french army destroyed, the national feeling would be so embittered that there would no longer be any hope whatever of an alliance. garibaldi protested, declaring that the armistice would but enable the french reinforcements to arrive. mazzini, however, persisted in the decision, and actually released the five hundred prisoners in exchange for the priest. the folly of this violent democrat sealed the fate of rome. had garibaldi been permitted to carry out his plans, the french army would have been destroyed or made prisoners to a man, and the enthusiasm that such a glorious victory would have excited throughout all italy would have aroused the whole population to burst their bonds. furious at this act of folly, garibaldi and his troops re-entered rome. he was greeted with enthusiasm by the people, but disliking such ovations, he slipped away with captain percival to the latter's house. professor forli had taken no part in the fighting outside the walls, but stationing himself with the troops that manned them, had kept up a vigorous fire whenever the enemy were within gunshot. after the repulse of the second attack he had returned home. "the stupidity of these people is incredible," garibaldi, who had scarcely spoken a word since he had turned back towards rome, burst out, waving aside the chair that the professor offered him, and walking up and down the room like a caged lion. "we held the french in the palms of our hands, and they have allowed them to escape. a fortnight, and we shall have three times their number to face, and you know what the result will be. i regard the cause as lost, thrown away by mazzini--a man who has never taken part in a battle, who kept himself shut up in the capital when the fighting was going on, a man of the tongue and not of action. it is too disgusting. i am a republican; but if a republic is to be in the hands of men like these, they will drive me to become a monarchist again. carlo alberto was weak, but he was at least a man; he staked his throne for the cause, and when it was lost, retired. mazzini stakes nothing, for he has a safe-conduct; if he loses, he will set to to intrigue again, careless who may fall or what may come to italy, if his own wild ideas cannot prevail; he desires a republic, but it is a republic that he himself shall manipulate. well, if it must be, it must. i am no statesman, but simply a fighting man. i shall fight till the last; and the failure must rest upon the head of him who has brought it about." "it is a bad business," captain percival said quietly. "i thoroughly agree with you, garibaldi, in all you say; but as you know of old, i am not much given to words. i began this thing, and shall go through with it. i think, as you do, the cause is lost; but every blow we strike will find an echo in italy, and a harvest will grow from the seeds some day. as to mazzini and his two companions, i am not surprised. when you stir up muddy water, the scum will at first rise to the top. so it was in the first throes of the french revolution, so it is here; the mob orators, the schemers, come to power, and there they remain until overthrown by men of heart and action. after robespierre and marat came napoleon, a great man whom i acknowledge i admire heartily, enemy though he was of england; after mazzini italy may find her great men. i know you do not like cavour; i admire him immensely. he is obliged to be prudent and cautious now; but when the time comes he will be regarded as the champion of free italy; and from what i have heard of him, the young king victor emmanuel will be a sovereign worthy of him." "i hope it may prove so," garibaldi said shortly; "at present the prospect does not seem to me a fair one. and you, professor?" "i shall carry out my plans, and when rome falls, as fall it doubtless will, i shall, if i escape, join my wife at leghorn, and go and establish myself in england. i have friends and correspondents there, and i have my son-in-law, who has promised me a home. here i could not stay--i am a marked man; and the day that the pope enters in triumph i should be consigned to a dungeon under st. angelo." "there should be no difficulty in escaping," garibaldi said. "with fifteen miles of wall it would need fifty thousand men to surround them; and the french will want all their strength at the point where they attack us." it was evident that some time must elapse before there would be any change in the situation at rome. mazzini was sending despatches to ledru rollin and the french assembly, imploring them to abstain from interference that would lead to the destruction of the roman republic; and until these could be acted upon, or, on the other hand, fresh troops arrived from france, matters would be at a standstill. in the meantime, danger threatened from another quarter; for the king of naples was preparing to move with ten thousand men to reinstate the pope. this force, with twenty pieces of cannon, had advanced as far as albano. three days after the battle, garibaldi told captain percival that he was about to start that evening with four thousand men to meet the neapolitan army, and asked him to accompany him. "the troops will not be warned till an hour before we set out. it is important that no whisper shall reach the enemy as to our intentions or strength." "i shall be glad to go with you," the englishman said. "after the way your men fought against the french, i have no doubt that they will make short work of the neapolitans, however great the odds against them. bomba is hated by his own subjects; and it is hardly likely that they will fight with any zeal in his cause. they are very different foes from the french." accordingly, at eight o'clock on the evening of may th, captain percival mounted and joined garibaldi and his staff, and they rode to tivoli, halting among the ruins of adrian's villa. the next morning scouts were sent off towards albano, and returned in the evening with the news that the neapolitans were still there, and showed no signs of any intention to advance, the news of the defeat of the french having, no doubt, greatly quenched king ferdinand's ardour. on the th the garibaldians moved to palestrina, and the general despatched a body of men to drive back the scattered parties of neapolitans who were raiding the country. this was done with little loss, the neapolitans in all cases retiring hastily when approached. garibaldi had information that evening that orders had been given for the main body of the enemy to advance and attack him on the following day. the information proved correct; and before noon the neapolitan force was seen approaching, seven thousand strong. garibaldi had no cannon with him, having set out in the lightest marching order. he distributed a portion of his force as skirmishers, keeping the rest in hand for the decisive moment. the neapolitan artillery opened fire, and the main body advanced in good order; but as soon as a heavy fire was opened by the skirmishers, much confusion was observed in their ranks. two other parties were at once sent out; and these, taking every advantage of cover, soon joined in the fray, opening a galling fire upon each flank. several times the neapolitans attempted to advance, urged on by their officers; but the skirmishing line in their front was strengthened from the reserves whenever they did so, until the whole of the garibaldians, with the exception of a thousand of the steadiest troops, were engaged, and an incessant fire was maintained against the heavy ranks of the enemy, whose artillery produced but little effect against their almost unseen foes. for three hours the conflict continued; then, as the garibaldian reserve advanced, the confusion among the enemy reached a point at which it could no longer be controlled, and ferdinand's army fled like a flock of sheep. garibaldi and his staff had exposed themselves recklessly during the fight, riding about among their troops, encouraging them, and warning them not to be carried away by their impetuosity into making an attack, until the enemy were thoroughly shaken and the orders issued for a general charge. a heavy fire was maintained upon the staff by the neapolitans; and it seemed to them that garibaldi had a charmed life, for although several of the staff fell, he continued to ride up and down as if altogether oblivious of the rain of bullets. he did not, however, escape unscathed, being wounded both in the hand and foot. the fugitives did not halt until they had crossed the frontier into neapolitan territory. the garibaldians remained for two or three days at palestrina; and seeing that the neapolitans showed no signs of an intention to advance again, returned by a rapid march to rome. mazzini's efforts had been to some extent successful. the french assembly declared that for france to aid in suppressing a people determined to obtain their freedom was altogether in contradiction with the condition on which the republic had been instituted, and sent m. de lesseps as an envoy to rome. napoleon, however, was of opinion that the reverse to the french arms must be wiped out, and on his own authority despatched large reinforcements to oudïnot. to the indignation of garibaldi's friends and of the greater part of the population of rome, it was found, on the return of the force to the capital, that, in spite of the brilliant successes that had been gained, mazzini and the demagogues had superseded him in his command, and had appointed colonel roselli over his head. this step was the result of their jealousy of the popularity that garibaldi had gained. his friends advised him not to submit to so extraordinary a slight; but the general simply replied that a question of this kind had never troubled him, and that he was ready to serve, even as a common soldier, under any one who would give him a chance of fighting the enemy of his country. on the th the neapolitan army again advanced and occupied palestrina; and the roman army, now ten thousand strong, marched out on the th. garibaldi, with two thousand men, moved in advance. although roselli was nominally in command of the army, he was conscious of garibaldi's greater abilities, and deferred, on all points, to the opinion of the man who was regarded by all as being still their commander-in-chief. when within two miles of velletri garibaldi met a strong column of neapolitans; these, however, after but a slight resistance, took to flight, and shut themselves up in the town. garibaldi sent back for reinforcements, but none arrived until too late in the day for the attack to be made; and in the morning it was found that the enemy had evacuated the place, the soldiers being so cowed by their superstitious fear of garibaldi that the officers in vain attempted to rally them, and they fled in a disorderly mob. the panic reached the other portion of the army, and before morning the whole had again crossed the frontier. garibaldi, at the head of his division, followed them up; and receiving authority to carry the war into the enemy's country, was marching upon naples, when he was recalled in all haste to aid in the defence of rome, oudïnot having given notice, in spite of a treaty agreed upon between m. de lesseps, on the part of the french assembly, and mazzini, that he would attack rome on monday, june th. oudïnot was, however, guilty of an act of gross treachery, for, relying upon his intimation, the city was lulled into a sense of security that no attack would be made until the day named, whereas before daybreak on the rd his troops stole up and took possession of the buildings just outside the gate of san pancrazio, and, before the roman troops could assemble, captured the porta molle, after a desperate resistance by a few men who had gathered together on the alarm being given. the firing was the first intimation that rome received of the treacherous manoeuvre of oudïnot. again the church bells pealed out, and the populace rushed to defend their walls. garibaldi felt that the occupation by the enemy of two great villas, a short distance from the wall, would enable them to place their batteries in such close proximity to the san pancrazio gate that it was necessary at all hazards to recapture them; and, with his brave lombard volunteers, he sallied out and attacked the french desperately. all day long the fight continued, both parties being strongly reinforced from time to time; but in fighting of this kind the discipline of the french soldiers, and the military knowledge of their officers, gave them a great advantage over the italians, who fought with desperate bravery, but without that order and community of effort essential in such a struggle. in vain did garibaldi and colonel medici, the best of his officers, expose themselves recklessly in their endeavours to get their men to attack in military order and to concentrate their efforts at the given point; in vain did the soldiers show a contempt for death beyond all praise. when night fell the french still held possession of the outposts they had gained, and the italians fell back within the walls. that night garibaldi held a council of war, at which captain percival was present. the latter and colonel medici were strongly of opinion that a renewal of the fighting of that day would be disastrous. the loss had already been very great, and it had been proved that, however valiantly they fought, the volunteers were unable to wrest the strong positions held by a superior force of well-disciplined men; for the french army now numbered forty thousand, while that of the defenders was but twelve thousand, and of these more than half had joined within the last three weeks. a series of such failures as those they had encountered would very quickly break the spirit of the young troops, and would but precipitate the end. these opinions prevailed, and it was decided that for the present they should remain on the defensive, maintaining a heavy cannonade from the walls, and making occasional sorties to harass the besiegers. in the meantime, the bridge across the tiber should be destroyed, and, if possible, mines should be driven to blow up the batteries that would be erected by the french under cover of the positions they held. these tactics were followed out. the french engaged upon the erection of the batteries were harassed by a continuous cannonade. sorties were frequently made, but these were ere long abandoned; the loss suffered on each occasion being so heavy that the troops no longer fought with the courage and enthusiasm that had so animated them during the first day's fighting. the attempt to blow up the bridge across the river by means of a barge loaded with explosives failed, and none of the defenders possessed the knowledge that would have enabled them to blow in the centres of the arches. the mines were equally unsuccessful, as the french countermined, and by letting in the water formed a streamlet that ran into the tiber, filled the italian works, and compelled the defenders to desist from their labours. nevertheless, the progress of the siege was hindered; and although it was certain that the city, if unaided, must fall ere long, mazzini still clung to the hope that the treaty made by lesseps and carried by him to paris would be recognised. this last hope was crushed by the arrival of a french envoy with the declaration that the french government disavowed any participation in the convention signed by m. de lesseps. even garibaldi now admitted that further resistance would only bring disaster upon the city, and cause an absolutely useless loss of life. mazzini and his two colleagues persisted in their resolution to defend the town to the last, even if the french laid it in ashes, and they even reproached garibaldi with cowardice. on the night of the st the french gained possession of the san pancrazio gate, having driven a passage up to it unnoticed by the defenders. they at once seized the wall and captured two bastions, after a desperate defence by garibaldi. they then planted cannon upon these and began to bombard the city. twelve guns were also planted in a breach that had been effected in the wall, and terrible havoc was made among the villas and palaces in the western part of the city. roselli proposed that the whole defending force should join in an attack on the french batteries; but to that garibaldi would not consent, on the grounds that these could not be carried without immense loss, and that, even if captured, they could not be held against the force the french would bring up to retake them. gradually the assailants pushed their way forward, encountering a determined resistance at the capture of the villa savorelli. on the evening of the th no fewer than four hundred of its defenders fell by bayonet wounds, showing how desperately they had contested every foot of the advance. on the morning of the th three heavy columns of french advanced simultaneously, and carried the barricades the romans had erected. garibaldi, with the most determined of his men, flung himself upon the enemy; and for a time the desperation with which they fought arrested the advance. but it was a last effort, and garibaldi sent to mazzini to say that further resistance was impossible. he was summoned before the triumvirate, and there stated that, unless they were resolved to make rome a second saragossa, there was no possible course but to surrender. in the end the triumvirate resigned, issuing a proclamation that the republic gave up a defence which had become impossible. the assembly then appointed garibaldi as dictator, and he opened negotiations with the french. so enthusiastic were the citizens that, in spite of the disasters that had befallen them, many were still in favour of erecting barricades in every street and defending every house. the majority, however, acquiesced in garibaldi's decision that further resistance would be a crime, since it would only entail immense loss of life and the destruction of the city. for three days negotiations were carried on, and then garibaldi, with four thousand men, left the city and marched for tuscany, while the french occupied rome. but in tuscany the patriots met with but a poor reception, for the people, though favourable, dared not receive them. the french had followed in hot pursuit; the austrians in tuscany were on the look-out for them; and at last, exhausted and starving, they took refuge in the little republic of san marino. here they were kindly received; but an austrian army was advancing, and the authorities of the republic were constrained to petition that the garibaldians, now reduced to but fifteen hundred men, should be allowed to capitulate, and that they themselves should not be punished for having given them refuge. these terms were granted, but the archduke insisted upon garibaldi himself surrendering. the general, however, effected his escape with his wife and twelve followers, embarking on board a fishing-boat, and they reached the mouth of the po; the rest of the band were permitted by the austrians to return to their homes. garibaldi, alone, with his dying wife, was able to conceal himself among some bushes near the river; his companions were all taken by the austrians and shot. nine other boats, laden with his followers, could not get off before the pursuing austrians arrived; and a heavy fire being directed upon them, they were forced to surrender. garibaldi's faithful wife, who had been his companion throughout all his trials, died a few days later. the austrian pursuit was so hot that he was forced to leave her body; and after many dangers, he reached genoa. he was not allowed to remain in sardinia; and from thence took ship to liverpool, and there embarked for new york. fortunately for captain percival, he and professor forli had, when on june th garibaldi himself recognised that all further resistance was useless, determined to leave the city. when he stated his decision to garibaldi, the latter warmly approved. "you have done all that could be done, comrade," he said; "it would be worse than folly for you to remain here, and throw away your life. would that all my countrymen had fought as nobly for freedom as you have done, for a cause that is not yours!" "i have a right to consider it so, having made rome my home for years, and being married to the daughter of a roman. however, we may again fight side by side, for assuredly this will not be the last time that an attempt will be made to drive out the despots; and i feel sure that italy will yet be free. i trust that you do not mean to stay here until it is too late to retire. you must remember that your life is of the greatest value to the cause, and that it is your duty, above all things, to preserve it for your country." "i mean to do so," garibaldi said. "as soon as all see that further resistance is useless, i shall leave rome. if i find that any spark of life yet remains in the movement, i shall try to fan it into flame; if not, i shall again cross the atlantic until my country calls for me." that evening captain percival and the professor left the town. there was no difficulty in doing so, as the whole french force was concentrated at the point of attack. the professor had exchanged his ordinary clothes for some of his companion's, and their appearance was that of two english tourists, when in the morning they entered ostia, at the mouth of the tiber, by the road leading from albano. as many fugitives from rome had, during the past month, embarked from the little port, and it was no unusual thing for english tourists to find their way down there, they had no difficulty in chartering a fishing-craft to take them to leghorn, it being agreed that they should be landed a mile or two from the town, so that they could walk into it without attracting any attention, as they would assuredly be asked for passports were they to land at the port. the voyage was altogether unattended by incident; and on landing they made a detour and entered the town from the west, sauntering quietly along, as if they had merely been taking a walk in the country. ten minutes later they entered the lodging that madame forli had taken, after staying for a few days at an hotel. great indeed was the joy which their arrival excited. the two ladies had been suffering terrible anxiety since the fighting began at rome, and especially since it was known that the french had obtained possession of one of the gates, and that a fierce struggle was going on. they were sure their husbands would keep their promise to leave the city when the situation became desperate; but it was too likely that captain percival might have fallen, for it was certain that he would be in the thick of the fighting by the side of garibaldi. it was, then, with rapturous delight that they were greeted, and it was found that both were unharmed. it was at once decided to start by a steamer that would leave the next day. both the ladies possessed passports: muriel that which had been made out for her husband and herself on their return from their visit to england; while her mother had one which the professor had obtained for both of them when the troubles first began, and he foresaw that it was probable he might have to leave the country. therefore no difficulty was experienced on this score; and when the party went on board the next day the documents were stamped without any questions being asked. not the least delighted among them to quit leghorn was frank, who was now four years old. he had found it dull indeed in their quiet lodging at leghorn, and missed his father greatly, and his grandfather also, for the professor was almost as fond of the child as its parents. there were but few passengers besides themselves, for in the disturbed state of italy, and, indeed, of all europe, there were very few english tourists in ; and even those who permanently resided in italy had for the most part left. the passengers, therefore, were, with the exception of the two ladies and captain percival, all italians, who were, like signor forli, leaving because they feared that the liberal opinions they had ventured to express--when it seemed that with the accession of a liberal pontiff to the papal chair better times were dawning for italy--would bring them into trouble now it was but too evident that the reign of despotism was more firmly established than ever. the steamer touched at genoa, and here the greater portion of her passengers left, among them professor forli's party. they took train to milan, where they stopped for a few days, crossed the alps by the st. gothard's pass, spent a fortnight in switzerland, and then journeyed through bâle, down the rhine to cologne, and thence to england. they were in no hurry, for time was no object to any of them, as they were well supplied with money; and after the excitement and trouble of the last few months, the quiet and absence of all cause for uneasiness was very pleasant to them. on their arrival at tom percival's town residence in cadogan place sad news awaited them. only a fortnight before, his yacht had been run down at sea, and he and the greater part of the crew had perished. chapter iii. troubles. the death of tom percival naturally made a great difference to his brother's position. he was now a large land-owner, with a fine place in the country and a house in town. the next nine years of his life were unmarked by any particular incident. signor forli and his wife were permanently established in cadogan place. the professor had never been accustomed to a country life, and in london he was able to indulge in all his former pursuits. he had always laid by a certain amount of his income, and could have lived in some comfort in london, as until the troubles began he had received, in addition to his modest salary as a professor, the rents of a property he possessed near naples, of which place he was a native. but neither captain percival nor his wife would hear of his setting up an establishment of his own. "we shall not be up in town above three months of the year at the outside," the former said; "and of course muriel will always want to have you with us for that time, for i know very well that you will seldom tear yourself from your work and come down and stay with us in the country. it will be far better for us that the house shall be always used, instead of being left for nine months in the year to caretakers. you can fit up the library with cases for your coins and manuscripts. you have already made the acquaintance of many of the scientific and learned men you formerly corresponded with, and will soon get a very pleasant society of your own. it will be better in all respects. you can shut up the rooms you don't use, while the servants whom i keep to look after the house must in any case be told to consider you as their master; and you can, if you choose, get a couple of italian servants as your own special domestics." and so, after much argument, it was settled, and for some years things went on to the satisfaction of all. when ten years old frank was sent to a preparatory school for harrow, and three years later to the great school itself. just at this time the professor determined to pay a visit to italy. since the fall of rome everything had gone on quietly there; and although persons suspected of liberal ideas had been seized and thrown into prison without any public inquiry, he considered that now that he had been settled in england for years, and had become a naturalised british subject, he could without any risk go over to make an effort to obtain a reversal of the confiscation of his property in the neapolitan territory. before starting he had called upon the official representative of the neapolitan government, and had been assured by him that his passport as a british subject would be respected, and that if he refrained from taking any part in politics he could travel in king ferdinand's territories without any fear of his movements being in any way interfered with. up to this time captain percival and his wife had been strongly against the proposed visit, but after the professor had received this official assurance they believed with him that he could in perfect safety undertake the journey. he wrote on his arrival at naples, stating that he had, as soon as he landed, called upon one of the ministers, and reported to him the assurance that the envoy in london had given him, and had been told that, while expressing no opinion upon the probability of his obtaining a reversal of the confiscation of his estate, there could be no objection whatever to his endeavouring to do so, but that he did not think the government would authorise his establishing himself permanently in the kingdom, as his well-known political opinions would naturally render him obnoxious. he had given his assurance that he had no intention whatever of remaining beyond the time necessary for the purpose for which he had come; that he had now permanently settled in england, and had only come over for the purpose that he had specified; and that on no account would he hold any political discussions with such personal friends as he had in italy, or give any expression whatever of his own views. he wrote that, as he had said before starting, he did not intend to call upon any of his former acquaintances, as, if he did so, it might bring them into discredit with the government. no other letter was received from him. after waiting for three weeks, captain percival wrote to the proprietor of the hotel from which the previous letter was dated, asking if he was still there, and if not, if he was aware of his present address. the answer was received in due time, saying that professor forli had gone out one morning, a week after his arrival, with the intention, he believed, of visiting his former estate, but that he had not returned. two days later a person had arrived bearing a letter from him, saying that he had changed his plans and should not return to naples, and requesting that his luggage and all personal effects should be handed over to the bearer, who would discharge the amount owing for his bill. he had complied with the request, and had since received no communication from professor forli. captain percival went at once to call upon the minister for foreign affairs, stated the whole circumstances to him, and the assurance that the professor had received from the neapolitan envoy before starting, and said that he felt sure that, in spite of his assurance and the protection of his passport as a british subject, his father-in-law had been seized and thrown into prison. "if that is the case, a serious wrong has been committed," the minister said. "but we cannot assume that without some proof. he may have been seized by some brigands, who by a ruse have obtained possession of his effects; possibly the person now in possession of the estate, fearing that he might be ousted from it, has taken these means for suppressing a claimant who might be dangerous. however, what you have told me is sufficient for me to commence action, by making a complaint to the neapolitan government that a british subject, duly furnished with a passport, is missing, and requesting that measures shall at once be taken to ascertain what has become of him." correspondence went on for three or four months, the neapolitan government protesting that they had made inquiries in every direction, but had obtained no clue whatever as to professor forli's movements from the time when he left his hotel, and disclaiming any knowledge whatever of him. it was now january , and lord palmerston, who was then prime minister, took the case up warmly, and captain percival had several interviews with him. "i quite agree with you, sir," the minister said, "that he is probably in a neapolitan dungeon; but at present we have no absolute proof of it; if we had i should summon ferdinand to release him under a threat of war." "i am quite ready to go out, sir, to make personal inquiries; and if you could obtain for me an order to visit the various jails and fortresses in the neapolitan territories, i may succeed in finding him." "i will obtain for you such an order," lord palmerston said decidedly. "if they refuse my request, i shall be forced to the conclusion that they are afraid of your finding him there--not that i think it is likely you will do so. indeed i regard it as certain that he would be removed from any prison before you arrived there, or if still there, that his dungeon would not be shown to you. at the same time, you would be doing good work. already there have been some terrible disclosures as to the state of the neapolitan prisons. these, however, have chiefly been made by men who have been confined there, and have been denounced as calumnies by the neapolitan government; but coming from you, armed with the authority of our foreign office, they could not but make a profound impression. they might force the authorities to ameliorate the present state of things, and would certainly enlist the sympathy of the british public with the cause with which professor forli was associated, and for which i am aware you yourself fought." a fortnight later captain percival was again sent for by the foreign minister. "here," the latter said, "is a royal order from the king of naples for you to view any or all the prisons in his dominions without let or hindrance, in order to assure yourself that professor forli is not an inmate of any of them." two days later captain percival started. on arriving at naples, he first called upon the neapolitan minister, who expressed himself with some indignation on the fact that the assurance of the government that they knew nothing of professor forli's disappearance had been doubted; but stated that they were ready to offer him any facility in his search. before commencing this, captain percival went out to the professor's estate, near capua, and saw the proprietor, who assured him that he had neither seen nor heard anything of its late owner; and although his assertions would have weighed but little if unsupported, captain percival's investigations in the town and of several persons upon the estate all tended to show that the professor had not been seen there. his appearance was familiar to many, and he could hardly have visited the place without being recognised. captain percival went to see several of signor forli's old friends, upon whom he would almost certainly have called before going to the estate, and from whom, indeed, he would have received far more information as to its condition than he would have obtained by direct application to a man who could not but have regarded him with hostility; none of them, however, had heard of his return to italy. after stopping two or three days there, he returned to naples and began his inspection of the prisons. the royal order being presented, he was everywhere received courteously, allowed to inspect them from the lowest dungeons to the attics under the roofs, and also to hold conversations with the prisoners. he had no idea that he would actually find the professor; his great hope was that he should learn from prisoners that he had been confined there, as this would enable the british government to demand his instant release. terrible as had been the descriptions he had heard of the treatment of the prisoners and the state of the jails, they fell far short of the reality; and he not only sent detailed reports to the government, but also to _the times_, which published them in full. they were copied into every paper in the kingdom, and created a general feeling of indignation and disgust. failing to obtain the smallest information as to the professor at naples, captain percival then went down to salerno, and left there with the intention of visiting the prisons in calabria and at reggio, and afterwards of crossing into sicily and trying the gaols there. four days after he left salerno, the servant he had engaged in naples returned to the town with the news that the carriage had been attacked by brigands, and that his master, who always carried a brace of pistols, had offered a desperate resistance, but had been killed. the horses had been taken out of the carriage, and they and captain percival's luggage had been carried off to the hills. he himself had been allowed to return. the governor of salerno at once sent the man to naples; the news was officially communicated to the british envoy, who telegraphed at once to london. a message was returned, saying that an official communication would be addressed to the government, and in the meantime he was to send down one of the officers of the embassy to inquire into the whole matter. he was to request the neapolitan government to furnish an escort from salerno, and was also to demand that steps should be taken to pursue and bring the brigands to justice. the secretary of the legation had no difficulty in obtaining the order for an escort; and taking with him the servant who had brought the news, proceeded to the place where the affair had occurred. the carriage was found overthrown by the roadside. there were two or three bullet-holes in it; there was a dark patch evidently caused by blood in the road close by; and a few yards away was a bloodstained cap, which the servant recognised as being that of captain percival. following up a track which led off the main road from here, they came upon some fragments of letters, among them one on which were the words, "your loving wife, muriel." for two or three days the hills on each side of the track were searched, but no sign whatever was found of captain percival's body. in the meantime, a strong force of carabinieri searched the mountains, and three weeks after the return to naples of the search party from the legation, came the news that they had surprised and killed a notorious brigand leader with three of his followers, and had taken prisoner a fourth. this man was sent to naples, and there questioned by a judicial official in the presence of the secretary of the legation. he acknowledged that he had been one of the party, consisting of their leader and seven followers, who had attacked the englishman's carriage. they had not intended to kill him, but to carry him off for ransom; he, however, resisted so desperately that he was shot. although very seriously wounded, they had carried him up to the mountains, believing that he would recover, and that they might still make money out of him. the man himself had been sent down to salerno to ascertain whether the authorities were taking any steps to hunt down his capturers. as soon as he learned that a strong force of carabinieri had been ordered out in pursuit, he had returned to the hut occupied by his chief. he found that during his absence the prisoner had died. he had never asked where he had been buried, for it was a matter that did not concern him. the contents of the portmanteau had been divided among the party; he was himself now wearing the boots and one of the shirts of the dead man. that was all he knew. the captain of the carabinieri testified that he had found an english portmanteau and many articles, some of which bore the initials "l. p." upon them; there was a brace of handsome pistols of english make, which were used by the chief of the brigands in the fight; and in a cupboard among other things was the royal order for captain percival to visit his majesty's prisons. a diligent search had been made in the neighbourhood of the hut, but the grave of the english gentleman had not been discovered. in due time the brigand was placed on trial, and was sentenced to imprisonment for life; and so the matter ended, save for the two widowed women and frank. it had been a heavy blow indeed for the lad, who was passionately attached to his father, and had also loved the professor, who had always been extremely fond of him. he was at home for easter when the terrible news arrived. neither his mother nor grandmother expressed a doubt that his father had been murdered; and when the news of the confession of one of the band and the discovery of captain percival's belongings in the hut of the brigands arrived, they gave up all hope of ever seeing him again. madame forli, however, while not doubting that captain percival had been killed, believed that the neapolitan government were at the bottom of the matter. "i know what the methods of the neapolitans are," she said; "and the sensation caused by leonard's letters to the papers here may have decided them to put an end by any method to further revelations, and they may very well have employed these brigands to carry out their purpose. every one knows that in many cases these men are in alliance with the officers of the police; and the latter are well paid to wink at their doings, and even to furnish them with information of the persons worth robbing, and to put them on their guard when, as occasionally happens, a raid is made by the carabinieri in the mountains. a capture is hardly ever effected; and while there is little chance of a political prisoner once shut up in their dungeons making his escape, notorious brigands frequently succeed in doing so. nobody dares to speak of their suspicions; but there can be little doubt that the prison officials are bribed to connive at their escape, knowing well enough that the government will not trouble over the matter, while on the other hand the escape of a political prisoner brings disgrace and punishment upon all the prison officials." "i cannot think--i will not think so, mother," muriel exclaimed; "for were it so, the same treatment might be given to him that has, we have no doubt, befallen my father. a thousand times better that leonard should have been killed, than that he should drag out his existence in such utter misery as that which he has described as being the lot of prisoners in the dungeons of bomba. the brigands may have been set on by their government. that is possible--i can believe that iniquitous government to be guilty of anything--but whether leonard was attacked merely for plunder, or for ransom, or by the connivance of the government, i cannot and will not doubt that he is dead; the story of one of the band can leave no doubt of this, and it is confirmed by his servant, who saw him fall. never try to shake my confidence in that, mother. it was almost more than i could bear to think of my father as confined in one of those dungeons; if i thought for a moment that leonard could be there too, i believe that i should lose my reason." frank returned to school after the short holidays. his mother thought that it would be better so, as the routine of work and play would give him little time for moping over his loss. he worked harder than he had ever done at school before; but obtained leave off cricket, and spent his time out of school in long walks with one or other of his chums. after the summer holiday he was himself again. he was quieter than he had been, and held aloof from fun and mischief, but joined in the sports vigorously, and regained the ground he had lost, and came to be regarded as likely some day to be one of the representatives of the school. when it seemed that the search for the body of captain percival had failed, mrs. percival wrote to the secretary of the legation in naples, saying that she would be glad if her husband's courier would come over to see her. "i naturally wish to know," she said, "as much as i can of the last movements of my husband from the only person who was with him; and i would willingly bear the expenses of his journey both ways, and pay him fifty pounds. i did not receive any letter from my husband during the fortnight preceding his death, and want to learn as much as possible about him." the secretary, on receiving the letter, sent the note to the chief of the police, in whose charge the man had been while the investigations were proceeding; an answer was returned saying that the man beppo paracini was not now in his charge, but that perhaps he could find him in the course of a few hours, and would, on doing so, send him to the legation at once. instead of seeing the man himself, however, the officer went to the director of the secret police. "as this affair has been in your department rather than in mine, signor, i thought it best to bring you this note i have just received from the british legation before taking any steps in the matter." the official read the note through. "you have done quite right," he said. "the affair has been a very troublesome one, and now that it has practically come to an end, it would not do to take any false step in the matter. you shall hear from me in the course of the day." he sat thinking deeply for some minutes after the other had left him, then he touched a bell. "luigi," he said, when a man entered, "go and fetch beppo paracini; if he is not in, find where he has gone and follow him." half an hour later the courier entered. when before the court he had been dressed in the fashion affected by his class; now he was in dark, quiet clothes, and might have been taken for an advocate or notary. "beppo," he said, "i thought that we had finished with that troublesome affair of the englishman; but there is again occasion for your services in the same direction. here is a letter from the secretary of the british legation saying that he wishes to see you, for that the signora percival has written to him to say that she is anxious to learn more of the last days of her husband, and is willing to pay your expenses to england and to give you fifty pounds for your services, if you would be willing to go to her for a few days. i regard this as a fortunate circumstance. the woman's husband and her father have been constant enemies of the kingdom. percival was a bosom friend of garibaldi; her father was also his friend, though not to the same degree. ever since they established themselves in england his family, who are unfortunately rich, have befriended italian exiles. "forli was acquainted with all his compatriots in london, who, like himself, were men of education and position, and had escaped from justice. in that house any plot that was on foot, especially if garibaldi was a leading spirit in it, would certainly be known. no doubt the loss of her husband will make this woman more inveterate against us than ever. i have often wished that i could establish an agent in her house, to keep me informed of what was going on there, who visited it, whether any meetings and consultations were held there, from whom they received letters, and the purport of them, but i have never before seen my way to it. the woman forli is herself english, and consequently since her husband's death no italian servants have been kept in the house. this letter gives me the opportunity i have desired. i wish you to go to the british legation, and to express your willingness to accept the offer that is made, and if possible to obtain a situation in the house. "you could represent that you were anxious to obtain a place of any kind in england, for that, owing to the part that you have taken in the search for percival's body--a search which brought about the death of the brigand rapini and the breaking up of his band--your life was no longer safe there from the vengeance of his associates. you can say that before you became a courier you were in the service of several noble families--of course you will be provided with excellent testimonials--and as it was your zeal in her late husband's behalf that had brought you into this strait, it is quite possible that she may offer you a post in the household. you can declare that you do not desire high wages, but simply a shelter. you will, of course, report yourself on arriving in london to the head of our secret agents there, and will act generally under his directions. i need not say that you will be well paid." "i will gladly accept the mission, signor, for, to say the truth, i am not without some apprehensions such as you suggest. i have changed my appearance a good deal; still, i cannot flatter myself that i could not be detected by any one on the search for me, and i do think that some of rapini's band, knowing that i was with the carabinieri, may have vowed vengeance on me; and, as you know, signor, a man so threatened cannot calculate on a very long life." "that is so, beppo. then we may consider the matter settled. if you cannot succeed in obtaining a position in the house of this family, i shall instruct my agent in london to utilise your services there, at any rate for the next six months. after that time you may return without much risk, for when it is found that you have disappeared from all your former haunts, the search for you is not likely to last long. at any rate, you might as well mention to those who have known you as a courier, that you intend to establish yourself either in paris or berlin. for as you speak both french and german as well as english, that would in any case be the course that a prudent man would adopt, after being mixed up in an affair that ended badly for the brigands. well, in the first place, you had better go at once to the legation and accept their terms. come here at eleven o'clock to-morrow, and i will give you further instructions." thus it happened that when frank came home next time from school, he was surprised at having the door opened to him by a grave-looking servant in plain clothes, who said in english, with a very slight foreign accent: "the signora percival is in the drawing-room, sir. i will see to your baggage and settle with the cabman." "whom have you got hold of now, mother?" he said, after the first greeting--"an italian? isn't he a fearfully respectable-looking man? looks like a clergyman got up as a valet." "he was your dear father's courier, frank. i sent for him to come over here, as i wished to learn all about your father's last days. the poor fellow was in fear of his life, owing to the evidence that he had given against the brigands. william had given me notice that he was going to leave only the day before; and as beppo had served in several noble families, who had given him splendid testimonials, and was afraid to return to italy, i was very glad to take him in william's place, especially as he only asked the same wages i paid before. i congratulate myself on the change, for he is quite the beau-ideal of a servant--very quiet in the house, ready to do anything, gets on well with the other servants, and is able to talk in their own language to any of his countrymen who come here, either as visitors or as exiles in need of assistance. he has, indeed, saved me more than once from impostors; he has listened to their stories, and having been a courier, and knowing every town in italy, on questioning them he found out that their whole story was a lie." "that is all right, mother; if you like him, that is everything. i own that i liked william; i am sorry that he has gone. i shall be some time getting accustomed to this chap, for he certainly is fearfully grave and respectable." chapter iv. a sudden summons. one saturday early in march, , frank, now sixteen years of age, on starting for the football ground, was told that the house-master wished to see him, and he at once went into his study. "percival, i have received a note from your mother, asking me to let you out till monday morning. she says that she particularly wants to see you, and will be glad if you will start at once. of course i will do so; you had better catch the next train, if you can." "what in the world can the mater want to see me in such a hurry for?" frank said to himself in a rather discontented tone as he left the master's study. "it is a frightful nuisance missing the match this afternoon! i don't know what hawtrey will say when i tell him that i cannot play. ah! here he is." "what is up, percival?" "i am awfully sorry to say that i have just received a message from my mater calling me up to town at once. i have no idea what it is about; but it must be something particular, for i told her when i wrote to her last that this was going to be the toughest match of the season; still, of course i must go." "i see that, percival. it is a terrible nuisance; you are certainly the third best in the house, and now i shall have to put fincham in, i suppose, and i am afraid that will mean the loss of the match." "he is as strong as i am, hawtrey." "yes; he is strong enough and heavy enough, but he is desperately slow. however, i must make the best of him." frank hurried upstairs, and in ten minutes came down again, dressed. he ran the greater part of the way to the station, and just caught the up train. the disappointment over the football match was forgotten now. thinking it over, he had come to the conclusion that either his mother or grandmother must have been taken seriously ill. it could hardly be his mother, for it was she who had written; still, she might have managed to do that, even if she had met with some sort of accident, if it was not too serious. if not she, it must be the signora, as he generally called her, and as he was very fond of her, he felt that her loss would be a heavy one indeed. his anxiety increased as he neared london; and as soon as the train stopped at euston he jumped out, seized the first hansom, and told the cabman to drive fast to cadogan place. he leaped out, handed his fare to the cabman, ran up the steps, and knocked at the door. "is every one well, beppo?" he asked breathlessly, as the servant opened it. "yes, sir," the footman replied, in his usual calm and even voice. "thank god for that!" he exclaimed. "where is my mother?" "in the dining-room, sir, with the signora." frank ran upstairs. "mother, you have given me quite a fright," he said. "from your message i thought that some one must have been suddenly taken ill, or you would never have sent for me when you knew that we played in the final ties for the house championship to-day. i have been worrying horribly all the way up to town." "i forgot all about your match, frank," his mother said. "i have had a letter that put it out of my head entirely." "a letter, mother?" "yes, frank; from your hero, garibaldi." "what is it about, mother?" frank exclaimed excitedly, for he had heard so much of the italian patriot from his father, and of their doings together in south america and the siege of rome, that his admiration for him was unbounded. "sit down, frank, and i will tell you all about it. the letter was addressed to your dear father. garibaldi, being in caprera, probably has but little news of what is passing at naples. he had heard of my father's disappearance, but was apparently in ignorance of what has happened since." she took out the letter and read: "'my dear comrade and friend,-- "'when i last wrote to you it was to condole with you on the disappearance of that true patriot and my good friend, professor forli. i hope that long ere this he has been restored to you; but if, as i fear, he has fallen into the clutches of the rascally government of naples, i am afraid that you will never hear of him again. several times, when you have written to me, you have told me that you were prepared to join me when i again raised the flag of italian independence, though you held aloof when france joined us against austria. you did rightly, for we were betrayed by the french as we were at rome, and my birthplace, nice, has been handed over to them. you also said that you would help us with money; and, as you know, money is one of our chief requisites. the time has come. i am convinced that the population of the neapolitan territories are now reduced to such a state of despair by the tyranny of their government that they will be ready to hail us as deliverers. "'my plan is this: i am sure a thousand or so of the men who fought with me in the alps will flock to my standard, and with these i intend to effect a landing in sicily. if i capture palermo and messina i think i can rely upon being joined by no small number of men there, and by volunteers from all parts of italy; five thousand men in all will be sufficient, i think--at any rate, that number collected, i shall cross to the mainland and march upon naples. you may think that the adventure is a desperate one, but that is by no means my opinion; you know how easily we defeated the neapolitan troops in . i believe that we shall do so still more easily now, for certainly very many of them must share in the general hatred of the tyrant. come, dear friend, and join us; the meeting-place is called the villa spinola, which is a few miles from genoa. "'i do not anticipate any great interference from cavour; he will run with the hare and hunt with the hounds, as your proverb has it. he dare not stop us; for i am convinced that such is the state of public opinion in italy, that it might cost his master his crown were he to do so. on the other hand, he would be obliged to assume an attitude of hostility, or he would incur the anger of austria, of the papacy, and possibly of france; therefore i think that he will remain neutral, although professing to do all in his power to prevent our moving. i am promised some assistance in money, but i am sure that this will fall short of the needs. we must buy arms not only for ourselves, but to arm those who join us; we must charter or buy steamers to carry us to sicily. once there, i regard the rest as certain. come to me with empty hands, and you will receive the heartiest welcome as my dear friend and comrade; but if you can aid us also with money, not only i, but all italy, will be grateful to you. i know that you need no inducement, for your heart is wholly with us, and all the more so from this disappearance of madame's father, doubtless the work of the tyrants. need i say that our first step in every town and fortress we capture will be to release all political prisoners confined there?--and it may be that among these we will find professor forli. turr will be with me, baron stocco of calabria, bixio, and tuckory; and madame carroli has written to tell me that she places her three sons at my disposal in the place of their brave brother, and will, moreover, supply me with money to the utmost of her power. come, then, dear friend, aid me with your arm and counsel, and let us again fight side by side in the cause of liberty.'" frank leapt to his feet. "you will let me go in my father's place, mother, will you not? many of those who will follow garibaldi will be no older than myself, and probably not half so strong; none can hate the tyranny of naples more than i do. it is the cause for which my father and grandfather fought; and we now have greater wrongs than they had to avenge." "that is what i thought you would say, frank," his mother said sadly. "'tis hard indeed to part with a son after having lost father and husband; but my father was an italian patriot, my husband fought for italy; in giving you up i give up my all; yet i will not say you nay. so fierce is the indignation in england at the horrors of the tyrants' prisons that i doubt not many english will, when they hear of garibaldi's landing in sicily, go out to join him; and if they are ready in the cause only of humanity to risk their lives, surely we cannot grudge you in the cause not only of humanity, but of the land of our birth." "i feel sure that father would have taken me, had he been here," frank said earnestly. "i believe he would, frank. i know that he shared to the full my father's hatred of the despots who grind italy under their heel; and besides the feeling that animated him, one cannot but cherish the hope that my father may still be found alive in one of those ghastly prisons. of course my mother and i have talked the matter over. we both lament that your studies should be interrupted; but it can be for a few months only, and probably you will be able to return to harrow when the school meets again after the long holiday--so that, in fact, you will only lose three months or so." "that makes no odds one way or another, mother. in any case, i am not likely to be a shining light in the way of learning." "no--i suppose not, frank; and with a fine estate awaiting you, there is no occasion that you should be, though of course you will go through oxford or cambridge. however, we need not think of that now." "and will you be sending him any money, mother?" "certainly. your father put by a certain sum every year in order that he might assist garibaldi when the latter again raised the flag of freedom in italy--a cause which was sacred in his eyes. at the time he left england, this fund amounted to £ , ; and as he never knew when the summons from garibaldi might arrive, he transferred it to my name, so that he need not come back to england, should a rising occur before his return. so you will not go empty-handed." "that will be a splendid gift, mother. i suppose i shall not go back to school before i start?" "no, frank. since you are to go on this expedition, the sooner you start the better. i shall write to your headmaster, and tell him that i am most reluctantly obliged to take you away from school for a few months; but that it is a matter of the greatest importance, and that i hope he will retain your name on the books and permit you to return when you come back to england." "if he won't, mother, it will not matter very much. of course i should like to go back again; but if they won't let me, i shall only have to go to a coach for a year or two." "that is of little consequence," his mother agreed; "and perhaps, after going through such an exciting time, you will not yourself care about returning to school again. you must not look upon this matter as a mere adventure, frank; it is a very, very perilous enterprise, in which your life will be risked daily. were we differently situated, i should not have dreamt of allowing you to go out; but we have identified ourselves with the cause of freedom in italy. your grandfather lost everything--his home, his country, and maybe his life; and your father, living as he did in rome, and married to the daughter of an italian, felt as burning a hatred for the oppression he saw everywhere round him as did the italians themselves; perhaps more so, for being accustomed to the freedom englishmen enjoy, these things appeared to him a good deal more monstrous than they did to those who had been used to them all their lives. he risked death a score of times in the defence of rome; and he finally lost his life while endeavouring to discover whether my father was a prisoner in one of the tyrants' dungeons. thus, although in all other respects an english boy--or italian only through your grandfather--you have been constantly hearing of italy and its wrongs, and on that point feel as keenly and strongly as the son of an italian patriot would do. i consider that it is a holy war in which you are about to take part--a war that, if successful, will open the doors of dungeons in which thousands, among whom may be my father, are lingering out their lives for no other cause than that they dared to think, and will free a noble people who have for centuries been under the yoke of foreigners. therefore, as, if this country were in danger, i should not baulk your desire to enter the army, so now i say to you, join garibaldi; and even should you be taken from me, i shall at least have the consolation of feeling that it was in a noble cause you fell, and that i sent you, knowing that my happiness as well as your life hung upon the issue. i want you to view the matter then, my boy, not in the light of an exciting adventure, but in the spirit in which the crusaders went out to free the holy sepulchre, in which the huguenots of france fought and died for their religion." "i will try to do so, mother," frank said gravely; "at any rate, if the cause was good enough for my father and grandfather to risk their lives for, it is good enough for me. but you know, mother," he went on, in a changed voice, "you can't put an old head on to young shoulders; and though i shall try to regard it as you say, i am afraid that i shan't be able to help enjoying it as a splendid adventure." his mother smiled faintly. "i suppose that is boy nature. at any rate, i am sure that you will do your duty, and there is certainly no occasion for your doing it with a sad face; and bear in mind always, frank, that you are going out not so much to fight, as to search every prison and fortress that may be captured, to question every prisoner whether he has heard or known any one answering the description of your grandfather, or--or----" and her lip quivered, and her voice broke. "or, mother?"--and he stood surprised as mrs. percival burst suddenly into tears, and the signora, rising from her seat, went hastily to her, and put her arm round her neck. it was a minute or two before mrs. percival took her hands from her face, and went on,-- "i was going to say, frank, or of your father." frank started, as if he had been suddenly struck. "my father," he repeated, in a low tone. "do you think, mother--do you think it possible? i thought there was no doubt as to how he was killed." "i have never let myself doubt," mrs. percival went on. "whenever the thought has come into my mind during the past two years i have resolutely put it aside. it would have been an agony more than i could bear to think it possible that he could be alive and lingering in a dungeon beyond human aid. never have i spoken on the subject, except to my mother, when she first suggested the possibility; but now that there is a chance of the prison doors being opened, i may let myself not hope--it can hardly be that--but pray that in god's mercy i may yet see him again." and as she again broke down altogether, frank, with a sudden cry, threw himself on his knees beside her, and buried his face in his arms on her lap, his whole figure shaken by deep sobs. mrs. percival was the first to recover her composure, and gently stroked his hair, saying: "you must not permit yourself to hope, my boy; you must shut that out from your mind as i have done, thinking of it only as a vague, a very vague and distant possibility." "but how, mother, could it be?" he asked presently, raising his head. "did we not hear all about his being killed, how beppo saw him shot, and how one of the band testified that he was dead and buried?" "so it seemed to me, frank, when my mother first pointed out to me that all this might be false, and that just as the government of naples declared they were absolutely ignorant as to your grandfather's disappearance when it appeared to us a certainty that it was due to their own act, so they would not hesitate a moment to get rid of your father, whose letters as to the state of their prisons were exciting an intense feeling against them in every free country. she said it would be easy for them to bribe or threaten his servant into telling any tale they thought fit; he or some other agent might have informed the banditti that a rich englishman would be passing along the road at a certain time, and that the government would be ready to pay for his capture and delivery to them. the prisoner taken may have been promised a large sum to repeat the story of the englishman having died and been buried. it was all possible, and though i was determined not to think of him as a prisoner, my mother, who knew more of these things than i did, and how matters like this were managed in italy, thought that it was so. still to my mind there were, and still are, reasons against hope, for surely the neapolitan government would have preferred that the brigands should kill him, rather than that they themselves should have the trouble of keeping him in prison." "possibly they would have preferred that," signora forli said, speaking for the first time. "they knew that he was an englishman, and doubtless learned that he carried loaded pistols, and may have reckoned confidently upon his resisting and being killed, and may have been disappointed because the brigands, hoping for a large ransom, carried him off wounded." "but even then," mrs. percival said, "they could have sent up their agents to the brigands and paid them to finish their work." "yes, possibly that is what they did do; but though i have never spoken to you on the subject since you told me not to, i have thought it over many and many times, and it seems to me that they would scarcely do so, for they might thus put themselves into the power of these bandits. any one of the band might make his way to naples, go to the british legation, and under the promise of a large sum of money and protection denounce the whole plot. it seems to me more likely that they would send an agent to the chief brigand, and pay him a sum of money to deliver the captive up to men who would meet him at a certain place. it is probable that the chief would, on some excuse or other, get rid of all his band but two or three, hand over the prisoner, and share the money only with those with him, and when the others returned, tell them that the prisoner had died and that they had buried him. then the carabinieri would use every effort to kill those who were in the secret, and being in earnest for once, they probably did kill the chief and those with him. "probably the man who gave his evidence was not one of the party at all, but some prisoner charged with a minor offence, who was promised his liberty as the price of telling the story that he was taught. if leonard had been killed and buried, as they stated, his grave must surely have been found--the earth must still have been fresh; and, indeed, nothing is more unlikely than that the brigands should have taken any extraordinary trouble to hide the body, as they could not have anticipated that any vigorous search would be made for it. for these reasons i have all along believed that leonard did not come to his end as was supposed. he may have been killed afterwards by those into whose hands he was delivered; but even this does not seem likely, for one of them might betray the secret for a large reward. he may have died in a dungeon, as so many thousands have done; but i believe firmly that he did not, as reported, die in the brigands' hut. i have never since spoken on the subject to your mother, frank, for i agreed with what she said, that it would be better to think of him as dead than in a dungeon, from which, as was shown in the case of your grandfather, there was no chance of releasing him. now, however, if garibaldi is successful, as every prison will be searched, and every political prisoner freed, there is a prospect that, if he is still alive, he may be restored to us." frank, with the natural hope of youth, at once adopted the signora's view; but his mother, although she admitted that it might possibly be true, still insisted that she would not permit herself to hope. "it may be that god in his mercy will send him back to me; but, though i shall pray night and day that he will do so, it will be almost without hope that my prayer will be granted,--were i to hope, it would be like losing him again if he were not found. now let us talk of other matters. the sooner you start the better, frank; you will not have many preparations to make. the garibaldian outfit is a simple one--a red shirt, trousers of any colour, but generally blue, a pair of gaiters and one of thick, serviceable boots, a wide-awake, or, in fact, any sort of cap with perhaps a red feather, a well-made blanket wound up and strapped over one shoulder like a scarf, a red sash for the waist, a cloak or great-coat strapped up and worn like a knapsack, and a spare shirt and a pair of trousers are all the outfit that you require. you had better take a good rifle with you, and of course a pair of pistols. all the clothes you can buy out there, and also a sword, for no doubt garibaldi will put you on his staff." "in that case i shall not want the rifle, mother." "no; and if you do you can buy one there. in a town like genoa there are sure to be shops where english rifles can be bought, and you might have difficulty in passing one through the customs--luggage is rigorously examined on the frontier and at the ports. a brace of pistols, however, would be natural enough, as any english traveller might take them for protection against brigands if he intended to go at all out of beaten tracks. as to the money, i shall go to the bank on monday, and request them to give me bills on some firm in genoa or turin. garibaldi will find no difficulty in getting them cashed. i should say that your best course will be to go through paris and as far as the railway is made, then on by diligence over mont cenis to turin, and after that by railway to genoa. in that way you will get there in three or four days, whereas it would take you a fortnight by sea." "then it seems to me, mother, that there is nothing at all for me to get before i start, except a brace of pistols; but of course i must have my clothes up from harrow." "i will write for them at once, frank. it would be better that you should not go down--you would find it difficult to answer questions put to you as to why you are leaving; and of course this enterprise of garibaldi must be kept a profound secret. one cannot be too prudent in a case like this, for if a whisper got abroad the italian government would be compelled to stop him." "you will not see beppo here when you come back," mrs. percival said to frank on monday evening. "i gave him notice this afternoon." "what for, mother? anyhow, i am not sorry, for i have never liked him." "i know that you have not, frank, and i begin to think that you were right. my maid said to me this morning that, though she did not like to speak against a fellow-servant, she thought it right to tell me that when i am out of the house and before i get up of a morning he is often in the drawing-room and dining-room, in neither of which he has any business; and that when she went up yesterday evening--you know that she is a very quiet walker--she came upon him standing outside the drawing-room door when we were chatting together, and she thought, though of this she was not quite sure, that he had his ear at the keyhole. he knocked and came in the instant he saw her, as if he had only that moment arrived there; but she had caught sight of him before he saw her, and was certain that he was listening. "of course, she might have been mistaken; but thinking it over, it seems to me that she was probably right, for once or twice since he has been here, it has struck me that the papers in my cabinet were not in precisely the same order as i had left them. you know that i am very methodical about such matters; still, i might each time, when i took them out, have omitted to return them in exactly the same order as before, though i do not think it likely that i could have done so. however, i thought nothing of it at the time; but now that i hear that he has been spying about the rooms and listening at the door, i cannot but connect the two things together, and it may be that the man has been acting as an agent for the neapolitan government. you know, when we were talking the matter over on saturday, my mother suggested that it was possible that the courier had been in league with the brigands. possibly he may also be an agent of the government; and there was so great a stir made at that time that i cannot regard it as impossible, knowing how she and i are heart and soul with the italian patriots, that he was sent over to watch us." "i think it not only possible but probable," signora forli put in. "i know that in italy the police have spies in every household where they suspect the owner of holding liberal opinions; and knowing that our house was frequented by so many exiles, they may have very well placed this man here. i regret now that at the time this man came over at your mother's request, we listened to his plausible tale and took him into our service, but i had not at that time any strong suspicions that the attack on your father was a preconcerted one, and i should hardly have mentioned the idea to your mother had it occurred to me. however, it is of no use thinking over that now; the great point is to consider how it will affect your plan." "in what way, signora?" frank asked in surprise; and mrs. percival added, "i don't see what you mean, mother." "i mean this, dear: if this man is a spy, you may be quite sure that he has had false keys made, by which he can open your cabinet, your drawers, and your writing-desk. it is quite probable that he knows garibaldi's handwriting, for, knowing that the general was a great friend of your father, he would almost certainly be furnished with a specimen of it; and, if that was the case, we may take it for granted that wherever you put any letter from garibaldi, he would get at it and read it. that in itself can do comparatively little harm, for rumours of the general's proposed expedition are already current. but he will know that, immediately on receipt of that letter, you sent for frank. doubtless there are other neapolitan spies over here, and every movement you have made since will, in that case, have been watched, and you will have been seen to go to the bank to-day. it is not likely that they would know how much we have drawn out, for your conversation was with the manager in his private room; but knowing your devotion to garibaldi's cause, they might well suppose that the amount would be a considerable one. we have made no secret of the fact that frank will start the day after to-morrow to travel in italy for a time; and he will guess that frank is the bearer of this money to garibaldi--possibly, as it seems that he listened at the doors, he may even have heard you tell frank how much you were going to send. yesterday evening we were talking over how the bills had best be concealed, and he may have heard that also; if he did, you may be pretty sure that they will never reach garibaldi, unless our plans for their concealment are changed." "you frighten me, mother." "i don't know that there is anything to be frightened about," the signora said. "i do not for a moment suppose that he contemplates any actual attack upon frank; though he will, i am convinced, try to get the money--partly, no doubt, for its own sake, partly because its loss would be a serious blow to garibaldi. after the disappearance of his grandfather, and the commotion there was over the death or disappearance of his father, an attack upon frank would appear to be a sequel of these affairs, and would cause such general indignation that the ministry would take the matter up in earnest, and the result would be far more disastrous for the government of naples than could be caused by any amount of money reaching garibaldi, whom they must regard as an adventurer who could give them some trouble, but who could not hope for success. therefore, i do not think that there is any danger whatever of personal injury to frank; but i do think there is grave fear that the money will be stolen on the way. if our suspicions are well founded as to beppo, no doubt two or three of these agents will travel with him. if he stops to sleep at an hotel, his room would be entered and his coat carried off; he may be chloroformed when in a train and searched from head to foot; his baggage may be stolen on the way, but that would only be the case if they do not find the bills on his person or where we agreed last night to hide them." "i dare not let him go," mrs. percival said, in a trembling voice. "why, mother," frank said almost indignantly, "you don't suppose, now that i am warned, i shall be fool enough to let these fellows get the best of me? i will carry a loaded pistol in each pocket; i will not sleep in an hotel from the time i start till i have handed the bills to garibaldi, and will take care always to get into a carriage with several other passengers. if i hadn't had fair warning, i dare say i should have been robbed; but i have no fear whatever on the subject now that we have a suspicion of what may occur. but if you think it would be safer, i do not see why you could not send the bills by post to an hotel at genoa." signora forli shook her head. "that would not do," she said. "you do not know what these neapolitan spies are capable of. if they find that you have not the money with you, they would follow you to your hotel at genoa, bribe the concierge there to hand over any letter that came addressed to you, or steal it from the rack where it would be placed, while his attention was turned elsewhere. however, i have an old friend at genoa, the countess of mongolfiere; we exchange letters two or three times a year. she is, of course, a patriot. i will, if your mother agrees with me, enclose the bills in an envelope addressed to you, put that in another with a letter saying that you will call at her house when you arrive at genoa, and request her to hand the letter to you. i will say that it vitally concerns the cause, and beg her to place it under lock and key in some safe receptacle until you arrive." "that is an excellent idea, mother," mrs. percival said, "and would seem to meet the difficulty." frank rose from his seat quietly, stepped noiselessly to the door, and suddenly threw it open. to his surprise his mother's maid was sitting in a chair against it, knitting. "it is all right, hannah," he said, as she started to her feet. "i did not know you were there. i thought that fellow might be listening again," and he closed the door. "i asked her to sit there this evening, frank," mrs. percival said. "i knew that we should be talking this matter over, and thought it better to take the precaution to ensure our not being overheard." "quite right, mother; i am glad you did so. then you think that that plan will answer?" "yes, i think so; but you must be sure and take care of yourself, just as if you had the money about you." "that i will, mother; you can rely upon that." "and above all," signora forli said, "you must beware, when you go to the countess for the money, that you take every possible precaution. call in the daytime, go in a carriage and drive straight from her place to the villa spinola; better still, go first to garibaldi, tell him where the money is, and ask him to send three of his officers to your hotel on the following morning. then take a carriage, drive to the countess's, and take it to the general with four of you in the carriage. they would not dare to attack you in broad daylight." "that is an excellent plan," mrs. percival said, in a tone of great relief. "certainly, if they do manage to search him on the way, and find that he has not got the bills upon him, they will watch him closely at genoa, where, no doubt, they will get the assistance of some of francisco's agents. there are sure to be plenty of them in genoa at present; but however many of them there may be, they would not venture to attack in daylight four men driving along what is no doubt a frequented road, more especially as they would know that three of them were garibaldi's men, which is as much as to say desperate fellows, and who would, no doubt, like yourself, be armed with pistols." "we had better take one more precaution," signora forli said. "it is believed that you are going to start on thursday morning. your packing can be done in five minutes; and i think that it would be a good plan for you to have everything ready to-night, and send mary out for a hansom to-morrow morning, so that you could, when it comes up to the door, go straight down, get into it, and drive to the station. i don't say that they might not be prepared for any sudden change of our plans; but at least it would give you a chance of getting a start of them that they can never recover--at any rate, not until you get to paris." "how could they catch me there?" frank said. "francisco's agents here might telegraph to his agents in paris, and they might be on the look-out for you when you arrived, and take the matter up. you were going _viâ_ calais. let me look at the bradshaw." "yes," she said, after examining its pages; "the train for the tidal boat leaves at the same time as the dover train. if, when you get into the cab, you say out loud, 'victoria,' so that beppo may hear it, you can then, when once on your way, tell the cabman to take you to charing cross. in that way, if there is any one on the look-out when the calais train comes in, they will be thrown altogether off the scent." "it seems ridiculous, all these precautions," frank said, with a laugh. "my dear, no precautions are ridiculous when you have francisco's agents to deal with. now, i will write my letter to the countess at once, so that she may get it before your arrival there. you will, of course, go out and post it yourself." chapter v on the way. after posting the letter, frank made several small purchases, and was more than an hour away. on his return he saw a cab standing at the door. as he approached, beppo came out with a portmanteau, handed it up to the driver, jumped in, and was driven off. "so beppo has gone, mother," he said, as he joined her in the drawing-room. "yes. he came in directly you had left. he said that his feelings had been outraged by a servant being placed at the door. he could not say why she was there, but thought it seemed as if he was doubted. he could not but entertain a suspicion that she was placed there to prevent any one listening at the keyhole; after such an insult as that he could not remain any longer in the house. i said that he was at liberty to leave instantly, as his wages had been paid only three days ago. he made no reply, but bowed and left. mary came up and told me ten minutes later that he had brought his portmanteau down, left it in the hall, and gone out, she supposed, to fetch a cab. i heard the vehicle drive up just now, and the front door closed half a minute ago." signora forli came into the room as she was speaking. "mary tells me that beppo has gone. it is a comfort that he is out of the house. when you once begin to suspect a man, the sooner he is away the better. at the same time, frank, there can be no doubt that his going will not increase your chances of reaching genoa without being searched. i should say that he had made up his mind to leave before you did, and he was glad that the fact of mary being at the door gave him a pretext for his sudden departure. in the first place, he could conduct the affair better than any one else could do, as he knows your face and figure so well. then, too, he would naturally wish to get the credit of the matter himself, after being so long engaged in it. of course, you may as well carry out the plan we arranged, to start in the morning; but you may feel absolutely certain that, whatever you may do, you will not throw him off your track. he must know now that he is suspected of being a neapolitan agent, and that you will very likely change your route and your time of starting. "i regard it as certain that the house will be watched night and day, beginning from to-morrow morning, an hour or so before the trains leave. there will be a vehicle with a fast horse close at hand, possibly two, so that one will follow your cab, and the other drive at once to some place where beppo is waiting. as likely as not he will go viâ calais. if you go that way, so much the better; if not, he will only have to post himself at the station at paris. it is likely enough that during the last day or two he has had one or two men hanging about here to watch you going in and out, and so to get to know you well, and will have one at each of the railway stations. he may also have written to the agents in paris to have a look-out kept for you there." "but how could they know me?" "he would describe you closely enough for that; possibly he may have sent them over a photograph." frank got up and went to a side table, on which a framed photograph that had been taken when he was at home at christmas, usually stood. "you are right," he said; "it has gone." then he opened an album. "the one here has gone, too, mother. are there any more of them about?" "there is one in my bedroom; you know where it hangs. it was there this morning." "that has gone, too, mother," he said, when he returned to the room. "so you see, muriel, i was right. the one from the album may have been taken yesterday, and a dozen copies made of it; so that, even if you give them the slip here, frank, you will be recognised as soon as you reach paris." "well, mother, it is of no use bothering any more about it. i have only to travel in carriages with other people, and they cannot molest me; at worst they can but search me, and they will find nothing. they cannot even feel sure that i have anything on me; for now that beppo knows he is suspected of listening at doors, he will consider it possible that we may have changed our plans about where we shall hide the money. it is not as if they wanted to put me out of the way, you know; you and the signora agreed that that is certainly the last thing they would do, because there would be a tremendous row about it, and they would gain no advantage by it; so i should not worry any further, mother. i do not think there is the slightest occasion for uneasiness. i will just go by calais, as i had intended, and by the train i had fixed on; that in itself will shake beppo's belief that i have the money with me, for he would think that if i had it i should naturally try some other way." "at any rate," mrs. percival said, "you shall not go by the line that we had intended. you would be obliged to travel by diligence from dole to geneva, thence to chambery, and again by the same method over the alps to susa. you shall go straight from paris to marseilles; boats go from there every two or three days to genoa." "very well, mother; i don't care which it is. certainly there are far fewer changes by that line; and to make your mind easy, i will promise you that at marseilles, if i have to stop there a night, i will keep my bedroom door locked, and shove something heavy against it; in that way i can't be caught asleep." "well, i shall certainly feel more comfortable, my dear boy, than i should if you were going over the alps. of course, the diligence stops sometimes and the people get out, and there would be many opportunities for your being suddenly seized and gagged and carried off." "they would have to be very sudden about it," frank laughed. "i do think, mother, that you have been building mountains out of molehills. beppo may not be a spy, after all; he may have heard you talking of this ten thousand pounds, and the temptation of trying to get it may be too much for him. he will know now that i shall be on my guard, and that, even if i have the money on my person, his chance of getting it is small indeed. i believe that you and the signora have talked the matter over till you have frightened yourselves, and built up a wonderful story, based only on the fact that mary thought that she caught beppo listening at the door." "how about the photographs?" mrs. percival asked. "possibly he has a hidden affection for me," frank laughed, "and has taken these as mementos of his stay here. well, don't say anything more about it, mother; i am not in the least nervous, and with a brace of loaded pistols in my pocket and the fair warning that i have had, i do not think i need be afraid of two or three of these miserable neapolitan spies." accordingly, frank started by the morning mail, as they had arranged. the carriage was full to dover; and at calais he waited on the platform until he saw an english gentleman with two ladies enter a compartment, and in this he took a vacant corner seat. on his arrival at paris he drove across at once to the terminus of the railway to marseilles, breakfasted there, and sat in the waiting-room reading till the door on to the platform opened, and an official shouted, "passengers for melun, sens, dijon, macon, lyons, and marseilles." there was a general movement among those in the waiting-room. frank found that there was no fear of his being in a compartment by himself, for only one carriage door was opened at a time, and not until the compartment was full was the next unlocked. he waited until he saw his opportunity, and was the first to enter and secure a corner seat. in a short time it filled up. he had slept most of the way between calais and paris, feeling absolutely certain that he would not be interfered with in a carriage with three english fellow-passengers. it was twelve o'clock now, and he would not arrive at marseilles until seven the next morning, and he wondered where all his fellow-passengers, who were packed as closely as possible, were going, for although he did not wish to be alone, it was not a pleasant prospect to be for eighteen hours wedged in so tightly that he could scarcely move. then he wondered whether any of the men who might be following were also in the train. he had quite come to the conclusion that his mother and grandmother had frightened themselves most unnecessarily; but he admitted that this was natural enough, after the losses they had had. at dijon several passengers got out, but others took their places; and so the journey continued throughout the day. the carriage was generally full, though once or twice there were for a time but five besides himself. he read most of the way, for although he spoke italian as fluently as english, he could not converse in french. when tired of reading he had several times dozed off to sleep, though he had determined that he would keep awake all night. at ten o'clock in the evening the train arrived at lyons. here there was a stop of twenty minutes, and he got out and ate a hearty meal, and drank two or three cups of strong coffee. he was not surprised to find, on returning to his carriage, that all the passengers with two exceptions had left it. these had got in at macon, and were evidently men of good circumstances and intimate with each other; he had no suspicions whatever of them, for it was certain that men who had any intention of attacking him would appear as strangers to each other. at vienne both left the carriage. frank was not sorry to see them do so. "if there are really fellows watching me," he said to himself, "the sooner they show themselves and get it over the better; it is a nuisance to keep on expecting something to take place when as likely as not nothing will happen at all." he examined his pistols. they were loaded but not capped, and he now put caps on the nipples, and replaced them in his pocket. just before they had left vienne a man had come to the window as if intending to enter, but after glancing in for a moment had gone to another carriage. [illustration: "his assailant fell back and disappeared"] "that is rather queer," frank thought. "as i am alone here, there was plenty of room for him. perhaps he had made a mistake in the carriage. at any rate, they won't catch me napping." the strong coffee that he had taken at lyons had sharpened his faculties, and he never felt more awake than he did after leaving vienne. he sat with his eyes apparently closed, as if asleep, with a warm rug wrapped round his legs. an hour later he saw a face appear at the opposite window. at first it was but for an instant; a few seconds later it appeared again and watched him steadily; then the man moved along to the door and another joined him. frank without moving cocked the pistol in his right-hand pocket, and took a firm hold of the butt with his finger on the trigger. the door opened noiselessly, and the second man thrust in an arm holding a pistol; so it remained for half a minute. frank was convinced that there was no intention of shooting if it could be avoided, and remained perfectly still; then the arm was withdrawn, and another man, holding a knife in one hand and a roll of something in the other, entered. in a moment frank's right arm flew up and his pistol cracked out: his assailant fell back and disappeared through the open door. frank sprang to his feet as he fired, and stood with his pistol levelled towards the window, where the head of the second man had disappeared as his comrade fell backwards. "he knows i have the best of him now," frank muttered to himself; "i don't think that he will have another try." advancing cautiously, he pulled the door to, lowered the window, and putting a hand out without exposing his head, turned the handle, and then drew up the window again. his foot struck against something as he backed to his seat in the corner. as he still kept his eyes fixed on the window, he paid no attention to this for a minute or two; then he became conscious of a faint odour. "i expect that is chloroform or ether or something of that sort," he said, as he lowered the window next to him; and then, still keeping an eye on the door opposite, moved a step forward and picked up a large handkerchief, steeped in a liquid of some sort or other. he was about to open the window and throw it out, when an idea struck him. "i had better keep it," he said: "there may be a beastly row over the business, and this handkerchief may be useful in confirming my story." he therefore put it up on the rack, lowered the window a few inches, and did the same to the one opposite to it. then wrapping the handkerchief up in two or three newspapers he had bought by the way, to prevent the liquid from evaporating, he sat down in his corner again. he felt confident that the attack would not be renewed, now he was found to be on the watch and armed. it was probable that the two men were alone, and the one remaining would hardly venture single-handed to take any steps whatever against one who was certain to continue to be vigilant. he had no doubt that he had killed the man he fired at, and that, even if the wound had not been instantly fatal, he would have been killed by his fall from the train. "it seems horrid," he muttered, "to have shot a man; but it was just as much his life or mine as it would have been in battle. i hope no one heard the shot fired. i expect that most of the passengers were asleep; and if any one did hear it, he might suppose that a door had come open, or had been opened by a guard, and had been slammed to. of course, the man's body will be found on the line in the morning, and i expect there will be some fuss over it; but i hope we shall all be out of the train and scattered through the town before any inquiries are set on foot. if they traced it to me, i might be kept at marseilles for weeks. of course, i should be all right; but the delay would be a frightful nuisance. there is one thing,--the guard looked at my ticket just before the train started from the last station, and would know that i was alone in the carriage." in a few minutes the speed of the train began to slacken. he knew that the next station was valence. he closed his eyes and listened as the train stopped. as soon as it did so, he heard a voice from the next carriage shouting for the guard. then he heard an animated conversation, of which he was able to gather the import. "the sound of a gun," the guard said. "nonsense; you must have been dreaming!" "i am sure i was not," a voice said indignantly. "it seemed to me as if it was in the next carriage." the guard came to frank's window. "ah, bah!" he said. "there is only one passenger there, an englishman. he was alone when we left vienne, and he is sound asleep now." "perhaps he is dead." it was possible, and therefore the guard opened the door. "are you asleep, monsieur?" frank opened his eyes. "my ticket?" he asked drowsily. "why, i showed it you at vienne." "pardon, monsieur," the guard said. "i am sorry that i disturbed you. it was a mistake," and he closed the door, and said angrily to the man who had called him: "it is as i said. you have been asleep; and i have woke the english gentleman up for nothing." a minute later the train moved on again. "so far so good," frank said. "i should think that i am all right now. we shall be in at seven, and it will not be daylight till half-past six; and as i fancy that we must have been about midway between vienne and vallence when that fellow fell out, it is not likely that his body will be found for some time. they are sure to have chosen some point a good way from any station to get out of their own carriage and come to mine. even when they find him, they are not likely to make out that he has been shot for some time afterwards. i hit him in the body, somewhere near the heart, i fancy; i did not feel sure of hitting him if i fired at his head, for the carriage was shaking about a good deal. it will probably be thought at first that he has either fallen or jumped out of his carriage. i suppose, when he is found, he will be carried to the nearest station, and put in somewhere till a doctor and some functionaries come, and an inquiry is held; and as he probably has been badly cut about the head and face, his death will be put down to that cause at first. indeed, the fact that he was shot may not be found out till they prepare him for burial. i suppose they will take off his clothes then, as they will want to keep them for his identification, if any inquiries should ever be made about him. at any rate, i may hope to have got fairly away from marseilles before the matter is taken up by the police, and even then the evidence of the guard that i was alone will prevent any suspicion falling especially on me." he had no inclination for sleep, and although he felt certain that he would not again be disturbed, he maintained a vigilant watch upon both windows until, a few minutes after the appointed time, the train arrived at marseilles. having only the small portmanteau he carried with him, he was not detained more than two or three minutes there, took a _fiacre_ and drove to the hôtel de marseilles, which his bradshaw told him was close to the steamboat offices. after going upstairs and having a wash, he went down again, carefully locking the door after him and putting the key in his pocket. he then had some coffee and rolls, and while taking these, obtained from the waiter a time-table of the departures of the various steamers from the port, and found, to his great satisfaction, that one of the rubattino vessels would leave for genoa at twelve o'clock. as soon as the steamboat offices were open he engaged a berth, walked about marseilles for an hour, returned at ten to the hotel, took a hearty lunch, and then drove down to the port. on questioning the steward he found that there were not many passengers going, and with a tip of five francs secured a cabin to himself; having done this, he went on deck again and watched the passengers arriving. they were principally italians; but among them he could not recognise the face of the agent who had levelled a pistol at him. both men had, indeed, worn black handkerchiefs tied across their faces below their eyes and covering their chins, and the broad-brimmed hats they wore kept their foreheads and eyes in shadow; and although he watched his fellow-passengers with the faint hope of discovering by some evil expression on his face his last night's assailant, he had no real belief that he should, even under the most favourable circumstances, recognise him again. two or three of the men wore beards, and seemed to belong to the sailor class--probably men who had landed from a french ship, after perhaps a distant voyage, and were now returning home. he saw no more of these, as they at once went forward. there were only eight other passengers in the saloon; seven of these were italians, of whom three were evidently friends. two of the others had, frank gathered from their talk, just returned from brazil; the sixth was an old man, and the seventh a traveller for a firm of silk or velvet manufacturers in genoa. the three friends talked gaily on all sorts of subjects; but nothing that frank gathered, either from their conversation on deck or at dinner, gave any clue as to their occupation. they had evidently met at marseilles for the first time after being separated for a considerable period--one had been in england, one at paris, and one at bordeaux; their ages were from twenty-three to twenty-six. their names were, as he learned from their talk, maffio, sarto, and rubini. before the steamer had left the port half an hour, one of them, seeing that frank was alone, said to him as he passed, in broken english,-- "it is warmer and pleasanter here, monsieur, than it is in london." "it is indeed," frank replied, in italian; "it was miserable weather there, when i left the day before yesterday." "_per bacco!_" the young man said, with a laugh, "i took you to be english. allow me to congratulate you on your admirable imitation of----" "i am english, signor--that is, i was born of english parents; but i first saw light in rome, and my grandfather was an italian." this broke the ice, and they chatted together pleasantly. "we are going to genoa. and you?" "i also am going to genoa, and perhaps"--for he had by this time quite come to a conclusion on the subject--"on the same errand as yourselves." the others looked at him in some little surprise, and then glanced at one another. that this young englishman should be going upon such an expedition as that upon which they were bound, seemed to be out of the question. "you mean on pleasure, signor?" one of them said, after a pause. "if excitement is pleasure, which no doubt it is--yes. i am going to visit an old friend of my father's; he is living a little way out of the town at the villa spinola." the others gave a simultaneous exclamation of surprise. "that is enough, signor," the one called rubini said, holding out his hand; "we are comrades. though how a young english gentleman should come to be of our party, i cannot say." the others shook hands as warmly with frank; and he then replied,-- "no doubt you are surprised. my father fought side by side with the man i am now going to see, in the siege of rome, so also did my grandfather; and both have since paid by their lives for their love of italy. my name is percival." "the son of the captain percival who was murdered while searching in naples for signor forli?" one of them exclaimed. "the same. so, gentlemen, you can perhaps understand why i am going to the villa spinola, and why, young as i am, i am as eager to take part in this business as you yourselves can be." "yes, indeed; your father's name is honoured among us as one of our general's friends and companions in south america, and as one of his comrades at rome; still more, perhaps, for his fearless exposure of the horrors of the tyrants' dungeons. however, it were best that we should say no more on the subject at present. it is certain that the general's presence at genoa is causing uneasiness both at rome and naples. rumours that he intends to carry out some daring enterprise have appeared in newspapers, and no doubt neapolitan spies are already watching his movements, and it may be there are some on board this ship. our great fear is that victor emmanuel's government may interfere to stop it; but we doubt whether he will venture to do so--public opinion will be too strong for him." "no one can overhear us just at present," frank said. "certainly the neapolitan spies are active. my mother's house is frequented by many leading exiles; and we have reason to believe that it has been watched by a spy for some time past. i know that i have been followed, under the idea, perhaps, that i am carrying important papers or documents from the general's friends there. an attempt was made last night to enter the carriage, in which i was alone, by two men, one of whom was armed with a pistol, and the other had a handkerchief soaked with chloroform. fortunately, i was on my guard, and shot the fellow who was entering with the handkerchief; he fell backwards out of the carriage; i heard nothing more of the other one, and for aught i know he may be on board now." "you did well indeed!" sarto said warmly. "i was in the next carriage to you. i did not hear the sound of your pistol-shot--i was fast asleep; but we were all woke up by a fellow-passenger who declared he heard a gunshot. when we reached valence he called the guard, who said that he must have been dreaming, for there was only a young englishman in the next carriage, and he knew that when it left the last station he was alone. when the train went on we all abused the fellow soundly for waking us with his ridiculous fancies; but it seems that he was right after all. you say there was another. what became of him?" "i saw nothing more of him. he may be on board, for aught i know, for they had black handkerchiefs tied over their faces up to the eyes, and as their hats were pulled well down, i should not know him if i saw him." "well, you have struck the first blow in the war, and i regard it as a good omen; but you must be careful to-night, for if the fellow is on board he is likely to make another attempt; and this time, i should say, he would begin by stabbing you. are you in a cabin by yourself?" "yes." "then one of us will sit up by turns. you must have had a bad night indeed, while we slept without waking, except when i was aroused by that fellow making such a row." "oh, i could not think of that!" "it must be done," rubini said earnestly. "however, i will lay the mattress of the spare bed of your cabin against the door, and lie down on it--that will do just as well. it will be impossible then to open the door; and if any one tries to do so, i shall be on my feet in a moment. i shall sleep just as well like that as in my berth. i have slept in much more uncomfortable places, and am sure to do so again before this business is over." "thank you very much. i will not refuse so kind an offer, for i doubt greatly whether i could keep awake to-night." "now let us say no more about it, for we may be quite sure that the man is still on your track, and there may be other neapolitan agents on board. we cannot be too careful. it may be that old man who was sitting facing us at the table, it may be that little fellow who looks like the agent of a commercial house, and it may be one of the two men who say they come from south america; there is no telling. but at any rate, let us drop the subject altogether. we have said nothing at present that even a spy could lay hold of, beyond the fact that you are going to the villa spinola, which means to garibaldi." they did not go up on deck again after dinner, but sat chatting in the saloon until nine o'clock, when frank said that he could keep his eyes open no longer. after allowing him time to get into his berth, rubini came in, took off his coat and waistcoat, pulled the mattress and bedding from the other bunk, and lay down on it with his head close to the door. "will you take one of my pistols, rubini?" for by this time they called each other simply by their surnames. "no, thank you; if the scoundrel tries to open the door and finds that he cannot do so, you may be sure that he will move off at once. he has been taught that you are handy with your weapons." frank was sleeping soundly when he was woke by rubini's sharp challenge, "who goes there?" it was pitch dark, and he was about to leap from his bunk, when rubini said,-- "it is no use getting up. by the time i got this bed away and opened the door, the fellow would be at the other end of the boat. we may as well lie quiet. he is not likely to try again; and, indeed, i should not care about going outside the door, for it is pitch dark, and he might at the present moment be crouching outside in readiness to stab you as you came out. however, he is more likely to be gone now, for directly he heard us talking he would know that his game was up." he struck a match. "it is just two o'clock," he said; "we may as well have four hours' more sleep." in a few minutes frank was sound asleep again, and when he awoke it was daylight. looking at the watch, he found that it was seven o'clock. "seven o'clock, rubini!" he said. the italian sat up and stretched his arms and yawned. "i have had a capital night. however, it is time to get up; we must turn out at once. we can't be far from genoa now; we are due there at eight o'clock, so we shall just have comfortable time for a wash and a cup of coffee before going ashore." frank dressed hastily, and then ran up on deck, where he stood admiring the splendid coast, and the town of genoa climbing up the hill, with its churches, campaniles, and its suburbs embedded in foliage. they were just entering the port when maffio came up to him. "coffee is ready," he said. "you had better come down and take it while it is hot. we shall have the custom-house officers off before we land, so there is no hurry." after making a meal on coffee with an abundance of milk, rolls and butter, frank went up again. he then, at the advice of rubini, drew the charges of his pistols and placed them in his portmanteau. "we must go ashore in a boat," sarto said. "i have just heard the captain say that the wharves are so full that he may not be able to take the vessel alongside for a couple of hours." "are you going anywhere in particular when you land?" frank asked. "we all belong to genoa, and have friends here. why do you ask?" "could you spare me an hour of your time to-day? i should not ask you, but it is rather important." "certainly; we are all at your service," rubini said in some surprise. "at what hour shall we meet you, and where?" "i am going to the hotel europa. any time will suit me, so that it is a couple of hours before dusk. i will tell you what it is when you meet me; it is better not to speak of it here." the young men consulted together. "we will go to our friends," rubini said, "take our things there and spend an hour, and will call upon you, if convenient, at eleven o'clock." "thank you; and you will see, when i have explained my reason for troubling you, that i have not done so wantonly." they landed at the step of the customs. "have you anything to declare?" the official asked frank, after his passport had been examined and stamped. "i have nothing but this small portmanteau, which contains only clothes and a brace of pistols. i suppose one can land with them on payment of duty." "certainly, monsieur; but why should an englishman want them?" "i intend to make a walking tour through italy"--speaking as before in english; "and there are parts of the country where, after dark, i should feel more comfortable for having them in my pockets." "you are strange people, you englishmen," the officer said; "but, after all, you are not far wrong, though it seems to me that it would be wiser to give up what you carry about you than to make a show of resistance which would end in getting your throat cut." he glanced at the pistols, named the amount of duty chargeable; and when this was paid, frank nodded to his companions, who were being much more rigorously examined, took one of the vehicles standing outside the custom-house, and drove to the hotel europa. chapter vi. the villa spinola after taking a room and seeing his portmanteau carried up there, frank went out for an hour and looked at the shops in the principal street; then he returned to the hotel, and stood at the entrance until his three friends arrived. he had again loaded his pistols and placed them in his pocket, and had engaged an open vehicle that was now standing at the door. "let us start at once," he said; "gentlemen, if you will take your places with me, i will explain the matter to you as we drive along." they took their seats. "drive to the strada de livourno," he said to the coachman; "i will tell you the house when we get there. now, my friends," he went on, as the carriage started, "i will explain what may seem singular to you. my mother has sent out a letter which contained, i may say, a considerable sum to be used by the general for the purposes of this expedition. it had been intended that i should bring it; but when we discovered that there was a spy in the house, and that our cabinets had been ransacked and our conversation overheard, it was thought almost certain that an attempt would be made to rob me of the letter on the way. finally, after much discussion, it was agreed to send the letter by post to the care of the countess of mongolfiere, who is an old friend of signora forli, my grandmother; she was convinced that i should be watched from the moment i landed, and advised me not to go to see the countess until i could take three of garibaldi's followers with me, and that after accompanying me to her house, they should drive with me to the villa spinola. now you will understand why i have asked you to give up a portion of your first day to come to aid me." "i think your friends were very right in giving you the advice, percival. after the two attempts that have been made--i will not say to kill you--but to search you and your luggage, it is certain that francisco's agents must have obtained information that you were carrying money, and perhaps documents of importance, and that they would not take their eyes off you until either they had gained their object or discovered that you had handed the parcel over to the general. i have no doubt that they are following you now in some vehicle or other." on arrival at the villa of the countess of mongolfiere, frank sent in his card, and on this being taken in, was at once invited to enter. the countess was a lady of about the same age as signora forli. "i am glad to see you, signor percival," she said. "i have received the letter from madame forli with its enclosure." "i have brought you another note from her, madame la contessa," he said, presenting it, "as a proof of my identity; for the matter is of importance, as you may well suppose, from the manner in which this letter was sent to you, instead of by the post direct to me." "so i supposed, signor. signora forli said that it concerned the good of the cause; and the manner in which she begged me to lock it up at once on my receiving it, was sufficient to show that it either contained money for the cause or secrets that the agents of the foes of freedom would be glad to discover. the mere fact that she gave no particulars convinced me that she considered it best that i should be in the dark, so that, should the letter fall into other hands, i could say truly that i had not expected its arrival, and knew nothing whatever of the matter to which it related." "it contains drafts for a considerable sum of money, signora, for the use of garibaldi. the general, being ignorant of my father's death, had written to him, asking him to join him, and recalling his promise to assist with money. my father, unfortunately, could no longer give personal service, but as he had for years put by a certain portion of his income for this purpose, my mother had it in her power to send this money. it was intended that i should bring it; but we found that all our doings were watched, and that, therefore, there was considerable danger of my being followed and robbed upon the way; and signora forli then suggested that she should send it direct to you, as possibly a letter addressed to me here might fall into the hands of the neapolitan agents." "it was a very good plan," the countess said. "and have you been molested on the way?" "attempts have been made on two occasions--once in the train on my way to marseilles, and once on board the steamer coming here." "you must be careful even now, signor. if you are watched as closely as it would seem, you may be robbed before you can hand this letter over to the general. there is nothing at which these men will hesitate in order to carry out their instructions. you might be arrested in the streets by two or three men disguised as policemen, and carried away and confined in some lonely place; you might be accused of a theft and given in charge on some trumped-up accusation, in order that your luggage and every article belonging to you might be thoroughly searched, before you could prove your entire innocence. i can quite understand that, when you first started, the object was simply to search for any papers you might be carrying, and if this could be done without violence it would be so effected, although, if murder was necessary, they would not have hesitated at it; and even now, guessing as they will that you have come here, directly you have landed, to obtain some important document, they would, if they could find an opportunity, do anything to obtain it, before you can deliver it to garibaldi." "i quite feel that, signora, and have three young garibaldian officers waiting in a carriage below for me, and they will drive with me to the villa spinola." "that will make you perfectly safe," and she then rose from her seat, opened a secret drawer in an antique cabinet, and handed him the letter. "now, signor percival," she said, "this has been a visit of business, but i hope that when you have this charge off your mind you will, as the grandson of my old friend signora forli, come often to see me while you are here. i am always at home in the evening, and it will be a great pleasure to me to hear more of her than she tells me in her letters." thanking the countess for her invitation, and saying that he should certainly avail himself of it, he went down and again took his place in the carriage. "have you found all as you wished?" sarto asked. "yes; i have the letter in my pocket." "that is good news. knowing what these secret agents are able to accomplish, i did not feel at all sure that they might not in some way have learned how the money was to be sent, and have managed to intercept the letter." having given instructions to the driver where to go, they chatted as they drove along of the proposed expedition. "none of us know yet," rubini said, "whether it is against the papal states or naples. we all received the telegram we had for some time been hoping for, with the simple word 'come.' however, it matters not a bit to us whether we first free the pope's dominions or francisco's." "will you go in with me to see garibaldi?" "no; we have already received orders that, until we are called upon, it is best that we should remain quietly with our families. were a large number of persons to pay visits to him, the authorities would know that the time was close at hand when he intended to start on an expedition of some kind. the mere fact that we have come here to stay for a time with our friends is natural enough; but we may be sure that everything that passes at the villa is closely watched. it is known, i have no doubt, that an expedition is intended, and cavour may wait to prevent it from starting, until the last moment; therefore i should say that it is important that no one should know on what date garibaldi intends to sail until the hour actually arrives. how we are to get ships to carry us, how many are going, and how we are to obtain arms, are matters that don't concern us. we are quite content to wait until word comes to us, 'be at such a place, at such an hour.'" "i would give something to know which among the men we are passing are those who have been on your track," sarto remarked. "it would be such a satisfaction to laugh in their faces and to shout, 'have you had a pleasant journey?' or, 'we congratulate you,' or something of that sort." "they feel sore enough without that," maffio said. "they are unscrupulous villains; but to do them justice, they are shrewd ones, and work their hardest for their employers, and it is not very often that they fail; and you have a right to congratulate yourself that for once they have been foiled. it is certainly a feather in your cap, percival, that you and your friends have succeeded in outwitting them." they had now left the city and were driving along the coast road towards the villa spinola. there were only a few people on the road. "you see, it is well that we came in force," sarto remarked; "for had you been alone, the carriage might very well have been stopped, and yourself seized and carried off, without there being any one to notice the affair. i have no doubt that even now there is a party somewhere behind a wall or a hedge, in waiting for you; they would probably be sent here as soon as you landed, and would not be recalled, as, until you left the house of the countess, all hope that you would drive along this road alone would not be at an end." "we shall call and see you this evening, and we all hope that you will use our homes as your own while you are staying here," rubini said. "we can introduce you to numbers of our friends, all of our way of thinking, and will do our best to make your stay at genoa as pleasant as possible. it may be some time before all is ready for a start, and until that is the case you will have nothing to do, and certainly garibaldi will not want visitors." "i shall be pleased indeed to avail myself of your kindness," frank said. "it will be a great pleasure to me to see something of italian society, and i should find time hang very heavy on my hands at the hotel, where there are, i know, very few visitors staying at present." "that is the villa," rubini said, pointing to a large house surrounded by a high wall. "will you take my vehicle back?" "no; we shall walk. i should advise you to keep the carriage, however long you may stay here. these fellows will be very sore at finding they have failed, after all the trouble they have taken in the matter. i don't say that they will be watching for you; but if they should come across you in a lonely spot, i think it is very probable that they would not hesitate to get even with you with the stab of a knife between your shoulders." alighting, frank rang at the bell. his friends stood chatting with him until a man, after looking through a grill in the gate, came out; and then, feeling that their mission was safely accomplished, they started for their walk back in high spirits. "i do not know whether the general is in at present, signor," the man said, as frank was about to enter. "may i ask your business?" "if you will take this card to him, i am sure that he will see me." in three minutes the gates were opened. frank entered on foot, and would have left the carriage outside; but the porter said,-- "it had better come in, signor; carriages standing at a gate attract attention." garibaldi was seated in a room with two men, who were, as frank afterwards learned, bixio and crispi. garibaldi had risen from his seat and was looking inquiringly at the door as the lad entered. "welcome, signor percival! you have come, doubtless, on the part of my dear friend your father. has he not come with you? i trust that he is but delayed." "i come on the part of my mother, general," frank replied. "i lost my father more than a year ago." "and i had not heard of it!" the general exclaimed. "alas! alas! for my friend and comrade; this is indeed a heavy blow to me. i looked forward so much to seeing him. oh, how many friends have i lost in the past two years! and so your mother has sent you to me?" "she bade me give you this letter, general." the letter was not a long one. mrs. percival briefly told how her husband had set out to endeavour to find where professor forli was imprisoned, how he had been attacked and killed by brigands, and how she, knowing what her husband's wishes would have been, had sent her son. "he is young," she said, "but not so young as many of those who have fought under you. he is as eager and enthusiastic in the cause of italian liberty as was his father, having, as you may well suppose, learned the tale from my husband and myself, and my father and mother. as you will see, he speaks italian as well as english, and i pray you, for the sake of my husband, to take him on your staff; or, if that cannot be, he will shoulder a musket and march with you. he does not come empty-handed. my husband has for years laid by a certain amount to be used in the good cause when the time came. he will tell you where it is to be obtained, and how. i wish you success with all my heart, and if the prayers of two widowed women will avail aught, you will have them daily. it is my only son i give you, and a widow cannot give more. the money is from my husband; the boy is from me." garibaldi's eyes filled with tears as he read the letter. "your mother is a noble woman indeed! how could she be otherwise, as the daughter of forli and the wife of my brave comrade? surely you will be most welcome to me, young man--welcome if you came only as your mother's gift to italy." frank opened the envelope, which was directed to himself, and took out five slips of thin paper. "these are bills, general," he said, handing them to him. "they are drawn upon a bank at genoa, and are each for two thousand pounds." "francs, you must mean, surely?" garibaldi said. "no, general; they are english pounds." exclamations of surprise and gratification broke from garibaldi and his two companions. "this is a royal gift!" the former cried. "my brave comrade is not here to help us; but he has sent us a wonderful proof of his love for the cause. it is noble!--it is superb! this will indeed be aid to us," he went on, holding out his two hands to frank. "we are strong in men, we are strong in brave hearts, but money is scarce with us, though many have given all that they possess. i know, lad, how you english object to be embraced,--were it not for that, i would take you to my heart; but a hand-clasp will say as much." the two officers were almost as much excited as garibaldi himself, for this gift would remove one of the obstacles that lay in their way. by means of a subscription contributed in small amounts by patriots all over italy for the purchase of arms, twelve thousand good muskets had been bought and stored at milan, together with ammunition. when, a few days before frank's arrival, crispi, with some other of garibaldi's officers, had gone to fetch them, they found that cavour had placed a guard of royal troops over the magazine, with orders that nothing whatever was to be taken out. heavy though the blow had been, the garibaldian agents were already at work buying arms, but with no hope of collecting more than sufficient for the comparatively small force that would sail for sicily. even this addition of funds would not avail to supply that deficiency, as it was very difficult for the general's agents, closely watched as they now were, to purchase military weapons. for some time the conversation turned entirely upon the steps to be taken, now that the war-chest had been so unexpectedly replenished. then garibaldi put aside the papers on which he had been taking notes, and said,-- "enough for the time, signor percival. i shall, of course, write myself to your good mother, expressing my heartfelt thanks, and telling her that if success attends us, she can be happy in the knowledge that it will be largely due to her. you will, naturally, yourself write home and tell her what joy her gift occasioned, how much it added to our hopes and relieved us of our difficulties. tell her that i have appointed you as a lieutenant on my staff, and that i shall trust you as i trusted your noble father." "i thank you greatly, general; i hope to prove myself worthy of your confidence." "and now, sir, will you advise me as to your own movements?" "i have put up at the hotel europa." "at present it will be best for you to stay there. we are anxious that there should be no appearance of any gathering here, and my friends will not assemble until all the preparations are completed. how did you come over here?" "i drove, general; the carriage is waiting for me." "then it must wait for awhile; or, better still, it can carry my two friends here to the town, where they have much to do. in future it will be best for you to walk over; 'tis but a short distance, and i know that you english are good walkers. of course, the authorities know that i am here; there is no concealment about that. as long as they do not see any signs of preparations for a movement, they will leave me alone. as probably your prolonged stay at the hotel may excite curiosity, it is well that you should visit the galleries and palaces, and take excursions in the neighbourhood. it may be as well, too, that you should mention casually at the _table-d'hôte_ that you know me, as your father was a great friend of mine when we were together in south america, which will account for your paying visits here frequently. we know that we are being closely looked after by government spies, and must therefore omit no precaution. now i wish you to take lunch with me, as i have many questions to ask you. i had heard, of course, of signor forli being missing, and of the correspondence between your government and that of naples on the subject." frank went out and told the driver that he should not be returning for some time, but that two gentlemen would go back in the carriage in a few minutes. "as i took the carriage from the hotel, the hire will, of course, be charged in my bill; but here are a couple of francs for yourself." in two or three minutes the italian officers came out, and thanking frank for the accommodation, drove away, while the lad himself re-entered the villa. "the meal is ready," garibaldi said, when he entered the room where he had left him. "it is very pleasant to me to turn my thoughts for once from the subject of my expedition." the meal was a very simple one, though the general had ordered one or two extra dishes in honour of his guest. "now," he said, when they had sat down, and the servant had retired, "tell me first of all about the loss of my dear friend." frank related the story of his father going out to search for signor forli, and how he had been captured and killed by brigands. as the general listened, his kindly face grew stern and hard, but he did not speak until frank brought the tale to an end. "_cospetto!_" he exclaimed, "he may have been killed by brigands, but i doubt not the neapolitan government were at the bottom of it. i would wager any money that they hired the men of the mountains to disembarrass them of one who was exposing the horrible secrets of their prisons. and you say that his body could not be found. was the search made for it simply by the carabinieri?" "it was made by them, sir, but the secretary of our legation accompanied them, and wrote that, although he had himself searched everywhere in the neighbourhood of the hut, he could find no traces whatever of a newly made grave. i may say that signora forli still believes that my father was not killed, but was, like her husband, carried off to some dungeon." "it is possible," the general said, "though i would not encourage you to hope; the ways of these people are so dark that there is no fathoming them. since his grave could not be found, i regard it as certain that he was not buried there, for his captors would not have troubled to carry his body far, but would have dug a hole close by and thrown the earth over the body; and in that case, when the band returned, one or the other of the men who did the work would most likely have carelessly pointed to the spot, and said, 'there lies the englishman.' but though i believe that he did not die there, he might have died elsewhere. his wounds were evidently very severe, and they may have proved fatal after he was carried off by those who took him away from the brigands; if they were not fatal, he may have been murdered afterwards." "signora forli thought, general, that it was more probable that he had been taken to one of the prisons, and that, just as they hunted down the brigands in order that none of these should have power to betray them, so they might have preferred putting him in prison to having him murdered, because in the latter case the men employed might go to the british legation and accept a large sum for betraying the secret." "it may have been so," the general said; "and if we succeed, perhaps you will find both your father and grandfather. but do not cherish false hopes. even if both were once in the neapolitan dungeons, they may before this have succumbed to their treatment there. you have mourned them as dead; do not buoy yourself up with hope, for if you did so, the chances are all in favour of your suffering a terrible disappointment." "that is just what my mother impressed upon me, general. she said that from the first she had never allowed herself to think of my father as in prison; and it was not until she received your letter, and thought that at last there was really a chance that the inmost cells of all the prisons would be opened, she would admit a possibility of my father still being alive." "at least, she and you will have the consolation that if you do not find those dear to you, you will have aided in restoring fathers and husbands to hundreds of other grieving wives, mothers, and children." "may i ask how large a force you are likely to take over with you, general?" "if the government had remained neutral and not interfered with me, we could have found men for the twelve thousand muskets they have seized; as it is, we have been obliged to write letters to all parts of italy, stopping the volunteers who were preparing to join us. some of these letters will doubtless fall into the hands of the authorities, and we have therefore so worded them that it may be supposed that the expedition has been altogether given up. a thousand men is the utmost that we can hope to embark secretly. these will be all picked men and gallant fellows who fought under me in the alps, or men who have, like myself, been for years living as exiles. these thousand i have chosen, every one; they will die fighting, and will never turn their back to an enemy. would that i had them all safely landed in sicily, and had surmounted all the difficulties and dangers that are caused by the hostility of the government, which will, however, be glad enough to take advantage of our work." "my mother thought that you would probably form the neapolitan states, if you conquered them, into a republic." "that was my dream when i was fighting at rome but i see now that it is impossible. i am for a republic on principle, but i must take what i can get. i cannot conceal from myself that my experience of mazzini and other enthusiasts is that they are not practical, they commit terrible blunders, and the matter ends in a dictatorship, as has twice been the case in france. mazzini would sacrifice the practical to gain his ideal. i care nothing for theory--i want to see italy free; and this can only be done under victor emmanuel. he is popular and energetic. his father suffered for his devotion to the cause of freedom. the son is a stronger man; but at present he is forced by cavour and the other temporisers who surround him to curb his own impetuosity. "i don't like cavour--he gave up my birthplace, nice, to france; but, at the same time, i respect his great ability, and am sure that as soon as he feels the opportunity has come, he will grasp it, and the king will not hesitate to accept the possessions that i hope to gain for him. with victor emmanuel king of northern and southern italy, the rest is simple. then italy can afford to wait its opportunity for driving the austrians from venezia, and becoming, for the first time since the days of the romans, a united kingdom. when i hoist my banner in sicily, it will be as a soldier of victor emmanuel, king of italy." frank was pleased to hear this. his father, though an advanced liberal in matters connected with italy, was a strong conservative at home; and frank had naturally imbibed his ideas, which were that the people of a constitutional monarchy, like that under which he lived, were in every respect freer and better governed than under any republic, still more so than they could be under a republic constituted according to the theories of mazzini or those of the authors of the first and second french revolutions. "by the way, you must have found it a terrible responsibility carrying so much money with you." "i did not carry it, general. the bills were, with the letter to you, sent by post to the care of the countess of mongolfiere, who was a friend of signora forli." "that was hazardous, too," the general said, shaking his head. "to trust ten thousand pounds to the post was a terrible risk." "it was the best way that we could think of, general. the courier who was with my father when he was killed came over to see my mother at her request, as she wished to hear every detail about my father's last days. he professed a great fear of returning to italy, as, having given evidence against the brigands, he would be a marked man." "there is no doubt that is so," garibaldi put in. "his life would not have been worth a day's purchase. these scoundrels have their agents in every town, men who keep them informed as to persons travelling, whom it would be worth while to capture, and of any movements of the carabinieri in their direction." "my mother, therefore, took him into her service," frank went on; "but two days before i started, she discovered that he had been acting as a spy, had been opening her desk, examining her letters, and listening at the door. she and signora forli had no doubt whatever that he had made himself acquainted with the contents of your letter, and believed that i was going to carry this money to you." "the villains!" garibaldi exclaimed, bringing his clenched hand down upon the table: "it is just what they would do. i know that many of my friends enjoyed your father's hospitality; and no doubt it would be a marked house, and the secret police of francisco would keep an eye over what was being done there, and would, if possible, get one of their agents into it. this man, who had no doubt acted as a spy over your father when he was in italy, would be naturally chosen for the work; and his story and pretence of fear served admirably to get him installed there. if he had learned that you were about to start to bring me ten thousand pounds, and perhaps papers of importance, it would have been nothing short of a miracle had you arrived safely with them." "that was what signora forli and my mother thought, sir. they were afraid to send the letter directed to me at the hotel where i was to stop, as the man would doubtless telegraph to agents out at genoa, and they would get possession of it; so instead of doing so, they enclosed it in a letter to the countess. i posted it myself, and there was therefore no chance of the letter being lost, except by pure accident." "but if the spy did not know that you had sent the letter off by post, it would render your journey no less hazardous than if you had taken it with you." "my mother and the signora were both convinced that an attempt would be made to search me and my baggage on the way, but they did not think that they would try to take my life; for after what had happened to my grandfather and father, there would be no question that my murder was the work of neapolitan agents, and a storm of indignation would thus be caused." garibaldi nodded. "no doubt they were right, and if the scoundrels could have got possession of what you carried without injury to you they would have done so. but they would have stuck at nothing in order to carry out their object; and had you caught them while they were engaged in searching your clothes or baggage, they would not have hesitated to use their knives. i cannot now understand how you have come through without their having meddled with you. it might have been done when you were asleep in an hotel, or they might have drugged you in a railway carriage, or in your cabin on board the steamer coming here. the secret police of naples is the only well-organised department in the kingdom. they have agents in london, paris, and other cities, and from the moment you left your mother's house you must have been watched. are you sure that, although you may not know it, you have not been searched?" "i am quite sure, sir. we were so certain i should be watched that i made no attempt to get off secretly, but started by the train i had intended to travel by. i did not stop a night at an hotel all the way, and made a point of getting into railway carriages that contained other passengers. it happened, however, that at vienne the last of those with me alighted. it was one o'clock in the morning when we left the station, and i felt sure that if an attempt was made, it would be before we stopped, especially as a man looked into the carriage just before we were starting, and then went away. i had a loaded pistol in each pocket and a rug over me, and i sat in the corner pretending to be asleep. an hour later a man came and looked in; another joined him. the door was partly opened, and an arm with an extended pistol pointed at me, but i felt perfectly sure that he had no intention of firing unless i woke. "half a minute later his comrade entered the carriage. he had an open knife in one hand, and a cloth in the other; but as he came in i shot him; he fell back through the carriage door. whether in doing so he knocked his comrade down or not, i cannot say; but, at any rate, i saw no more of him. the man whom i shot had dropped what he held in his hand on to the floor. it was as i had expected--a handkerchief, soaked with chloroform. it was seven when i arrived at marseilles. fortunately, a steamer left at twelve. when i went on board i made the acquaintance of three young men, who were, i guessed, on the same errand as myself; their names were rubini, sarto, and maffio. we soon became very friendly, and i found that my conjectures were correct. this being so, i told them what had happened; and as there was no one besides myself in my cabin, rubini most kindly laid a mattress across the door and slept there. as i had not had a wink of sleep the night before, and only dozed a little the one before that, i should have had great difficulty in keeping awake. in the course of the night some one did attempt to open the door; but he was unable to do so on account of the mattress placed there, and we heard no more of him. i asked these gentlemen to come to the hotel europa at eleven, for i was really afraid to come along the road here by myself. they drove with me to the house of the countess, and then here, so that i was well guarded." "i know them all well," garibaldi said. "rubini is a lieutenant in the genoese company of my cacciatori; the others are in his company. you have done well indeed, my friend; it needed courage to start on such a journey, knowing that francisco's police were on your track. you have a right to feel proud that your vigilance and quickness defeated their attempt. it is well that you met rubini and his friends; for as the spies would know directly you entered the palazzo of the countess that you had gone there for some special purpose, probably to obtain documents sent to her, i doubt whether you would have been able to come safely alone, even if the road had been fairly well thronged." "i should not have gone to the countess's unless i had an escort, general. my intention was to come to you in the first place, and ask that three of your officers might accompany me to get the letter; but, of course, after having found friends who would act as my escort, there was no occasion to do so. i suppose there is no fear of my being further annoyed?" "i should think not," garibaldi said; "now they know that your mission has been carried out, you will cease to be of interest to them. but at the same time, it would be well to be cautious. if the fellow you shot was the leader of those charged to prevent the supplies and letter coming to me, we may consider that there is an end of the affair. his death will give a step to some one, and they will owe you no ill will. if, however, the other man was the chief of the party, he would doubtless owe you a grudge. he is sure to be blamed for having been thus baffled by a lad; whereas had he succeeded, he would have received the approval of his superiors. i think, therefore, if i were you, i should abstain from going out after nightfall, unless with a companion, or if you do so, keep in the great thoroughfares and avoid quiet streets. that habit of carrying a loaded pistol in your pocket has proved a valuable one, and i should advise you to continue it so long as you are here. if you see rubini, tell him that i thank him for the aid he and his friends rendered you. he and the others have all been instructed not to come here until they receive a communication that the time for action has arrived. my followers send me their addresses as soon as they reach genoa, so that i can summon them when they are needed. it would never do for numbers of men to present themselves here. the authorities know perfectly well that i am intending to make an expedition to sicily; but as long as they see no signs of activity, and their spies tell them that only some half-dozen of my friends frequent this villa, they may be content to abstain from interference with me; indeed, i do not think that in any case they would venture to prevent my sailing, unless they receive urgent remonstrances from austria or france. were such remonstrances made, they would now be able to reply that, so far as they can learn, i am remaining here quietly, and am only visited by a few private friends." chapter vii. the expedition sails. frank spent a pleasant three weeks in genoa. the three young men did all in their power to make the time pass agreeably to him: they introduced him to their families and friends; one or the other of them always accompanied him to the theatre or opera, or, as much more frequently happened, to gatherings at their own houses or at those of acquaintances. many of these were, like themselves, members of the genoese corps; and both as a relative of two men who had sacrificed their lives in the cause of freedom, and especially for the aid that his mother had sent to garibaldi to enable him to carry out his plans, he was everywhere most warmly received. he himself had not told, even his three friends, the amount that his mother had contributed; but garibaldi's companions had mentioned it to others, and it soon became known to all interested in the expedition. twice a week frank drove out to quarto. matters had been steadily progressing. a thousand rifles, but of a very inferior kind, had been obtained from farini, and a few hundred of a better class had been bought. these latter were for the use of garibaldi's own band, while the others would be distributed among such sicilians as might join him on his landing. these would for the most part come armed, as large numbers of guns and stores of ammunition had been accumulated in the island for use in the futile insurrection a few months previously. on may th all was ready. frank paid his hotel bill, left his trunk to be placed in the store-room until he should send or return for it, and with a bundle, in which his sword was wrapped up in his blanket, cloak, and a light waterproof sheet, and with a bag containing his red shirts and other small belongings, together with his pistols and a good supply of ammunition, drove to the villa spinola. on the previous day he had sent on there a saddle and bridle, valise and holsters. the horses were to be bought in sicily. outside all seemed as quiet as usual, but once within the gates there was a great change. a score of gentlemen were strolling in little groups in the garden, talking excitedly; these were almost all new arrivals, and consequently unknown to frank, who passed on into the house where garibaldi, the officers of his staff, and other principal officers were engaged in discussing the final arrangements. most of the staff were known to him, as they had been there for some days. he joined three or four of the younger men, who were sitting smoking in a room on the ground floor while the council was being held. "so at last the day has arrived, lieutenant," one of them said. "i think everything augurs well for us. i am convinced that the government do not mean to interfere with us, but are adopting the policy of shutting their eyes. of course, they will disavow us, but they will not dare to stop us. they must know what is going on; there are too many people in the secret for it not to have leaked out. i don't know whether you noticed it, but i could see, when i was in the city this morning, that there was a general excitement; people met and talked earnestly; every stranger, and there are a good many there to-day, is watched eagerly. you see, there is no ship of war in the port, which there certainly would have been, had they intended to stop us." "i shall be very glad when we are well at sea," frank said, "though i agree with you that it is not likely we shall be interfered with." they chatted for upwards of an hour, and the council broke up. a list was handed round, appointing the boats to which the various officers were told off; and frank found that he was to go in the third that left the shore, together with orsini, commander of the second company, and turr, the first _aide-de-camp_ of the general. the hours passed slowly. no regular meals were served, but food was placed on a long table, and each could go in and take refreshments as he pleased. the new-comers, and indeed all the officers, with the exception of two or three of garibaldi's most trusted friends, were still in ignorance as to how they were to obtain vessels to take them to messina, and frank, who was behind the scenes, listened with some amusement to the wild conjectures that they hazarded. he knew that the matter had been privately arranged with the owners of the rubattino line of steamers that the _lombardo_ and _piemonte_, both of which were in the harbour, should be seized by the garibaldians. they were warm adherents of the national cause, but could not, of course, appear openly in the matter. they had already been paid the sum agreed on for any damage or injury that might happen to the vessels; while openly they would be able to protest loudly against the seizure of their ships, and, like the government, profess entire ignorance of what was going on. only a few hands would be left on board. these were to offer a feigned resistance, but were to make no noise. among garibaldi's followers were several engineers, who were to take command of and assist in the engine-rooms. in order to save time, the _lombardo_, which was much the larger of the two vessels, was to take the _piemonte_ in tow. there was still, however, some anxiety on the part of the leaders lest, at the last moment, the government should intervene, seize the arms, and take possession of the steamers. the seizure of the great magazine of arms at milan showed that cavour was in earnest in his endeavour to put a stop to an expedition of whose success he had not the slightest hope; but whether he would risk the ferment that would be excited, were garibaldi and his followers to be seized at the moment of starting, was doubtful. this was a question that had been discussed time after time by garibaldi and his friends. that the minister was well informed as to all the preparations, the purchase of fresh arms, and the arrival of so many men at genoa, was certain; but he could not know the exact hour at which the expedition was to start, nor even be sure that it might not march down the coast, and take ship at some other port than genoa. ignorant as were the great bulk of those gathered at the villa spinola of garibaldi's plans, they knew that the movement was to begin that night, and there was a general feeling of restlessness and excitement as evening approached. from time to time messengers brought news from the city. all was well; there was no unusual stir among the troops. the police went about their usual duties unconcernedly, and apparently without noticing the suppressed excitement of the population. at nightfall the word was passed round that all were to lie down as they could, as there would be no movement until one o'clock. the order was obeyed, but there was little sleep. it was known that bixio and some other officers had already left the villa; and a whisper had run round that they were going to seize some ships, and that the embarkation would take place before morning. at one o'clock all were in motion again. the servants of the villa brought round bowls of coffee and milk, and as soon as these were drunk and some bread hastily eaten, all made ready for a start. frank had that evening donned his uniform for the first time, and had been at work, with two other members of the staff, serving out rifles and ammunition, from an outhouse which had been converted into a magazine; the men coming in a steady stream through a back entrance into the garden, and passing again with their arms through another door. another party were at work carrying down boxes of ammunition and barrels of flour and other provisions to the shore. at one o'clock the whole force were gathered there. it was an impressive sight, and frank for the first time fully realised the singularity and danger of the expedition in which he was to share. here were a thousand men, all of whom had fought again and again under garibaldi in the cause of italian liberty. they were about to start, against the wishes of the government of their country, to invade a kingdom possessed of strong fortresses and an army of one hundred and twenty-eight thousand regular troops. success seemed altogether impossible. but frank had deeply imbibed the conviction of his mother and signora forli that the people at large would flock to the standard. he had been carried away with the enthusiasm of the general and those about him, and even the darkness of the night, the mystery of the quiet armed figures and of the boats hauled up in readiness for the embarkation, did not damp the suppressed excitement that made every nerve tingle, and rendered it difficult to remain outwardly impassive. the men talked together in low tones. here were many who had not met since they had parted after the events that had laid another stone to the edifice of italian unity, by the addition of tuscany, parma, and modena to the kingdom of sardinia. the greater part of them were lombards and genoese, but there were many from turin and other cities of piedmont. some were exiles, who had received a summons similar to that sent by garibaldi to captain percival. the greetings of all these men, who had been comrades in many dashing adventures, were warm and earnest, though expressed in but few low words. hour after hour passed, and expectation grew into anxiety. all knew now that bixio had gone to seize two steamers, and that they should have been in the roadstead at two o'clock; but at four there were still no signs of them, and the fear that he had failed, that the government had at the last moment intervened, grew stronger. it was not until dawn was beginning to break that the two steamers were made out approaching, and anxiety gave place to delight. steadily and in good order the men took their places, under the direction of the officers assigned to each boat, and by the time the steamers arrived as near as they could venture to the shore, the boats were alongside with their crews. the embarkation was quickly effected. it was found that there had been no dangerous hitch in the arrangements, the delay having been caused by the difficulty bixio had had in finding the two steamers, which were anchored in the extensive roadstead of genoa among many other ships. the stores were hastily transferred from the boats to the steamers, and these at once started for the spot where two boats, laden with ammunition, percussion caps, and rifles, should have been lying off the coast. either through misunderstanding of orders or the interference of the authorities, the two boats were not at the rendezvous; and after cruising about for some hours in every direction, garibaldi decided that no further time could be lost, for at any moment government vessels might start in pursuit. accordingly the steamers' heads were turned to the south, and the expedition fairly began. delighted as all on board the _lombardo_ and _piemonte_ were to have escaped without government interference, the loss of the ammunition was a very serious blow. they had brought with them from the villa spinola scarcely sufficient for a couple of hours' fighting for those on board. they had neither a reserve for themselves, nor any to hand over with the guns to those they expected to join them on landing. it was, therefore, absolutely necessary to touch at some port to obtain ammunition, and garibaldi chose talamone, at the southern extremity of tuscany, within a few miles of the boundary of the papal states. they arrived there early the next morning, and garibaldi at once went ashore and desired the governor of the fort, in the name of the king, to hand over to him supplies of ammunition and some guns. whatever doubts the governor may have had as to garibaldi's authority, he and the governor of the much larger neighbouring town of orbetello rendered him all the assistance in their power, and gave him a considerable amount of ammunition and several guns. the vessels filled up with coal, and the inhabitants welcomed the expedition with enthusiasm. for this conduct the governor of talamone afterwards received a severe reprimand from the government, who were obliged to clear themselves of any participation whatever in the expedition, and had, a few hours after garibaldi left genoa, despatched a fast screw frigate, the _maria_, under the orders of admiral persano in pursuit. his official orders were to capture and bring back the steamers and all on board; but there can be little doubt that he received secret instructions in a contrary sense. at any rate, the frigate, after a prolonged cruise, returned to genoa without having come within sight of the expedition. before leaving talamone, garibaldi accepted an offer of one of his followers to undertake, with sixty men, to effect a diversion by raising the population in the north of the papal states. the expedition seemed a hopeless one with so small a force; and it would seem that garibaldi assented to it in order to rid himself from some whose impetuosity and violent disposition might have led to trouble later. as was to be expected, the little party failed entirely in their object, and were defeated and captured very shortly after crossing the frontier. all were glad on board the two ships, when they were again under steam, and heading for their goal. as by this time it was certain that the news of their departure from genoa would have been telegraphed to naples, and that the ships of war of that country would be on the look-out to intercept them, it was decided, at a council of war held by garibaldi, that instead of landing near messina, they should make for the little island of maregigimo, lying off the north-west corner of sicily, as by this route they would be likely to escape the vigilance of the neapolitan ships-of-war, which would be watching for them along the coast from the straits of messina to palermo. arriving at maregigimo late on the evening of the th, and learning from the islanders that the coast of sicily was everywhere patrolled, they decided to take the bold step of sailing into the harbour of marsala. as a large mercantile port, this offered several advantages. the true character of the vessels would not be suspected until they arrived there, and hostile ships cruising near might take them for ordinary merchantmen. there was also the advantage that, being only some seventy miles from cape bona, in africa, it afforded a better chance of escape, should they meet with misfortune after landing, and be obliged to re-embark. as they neared the coast they made out several sailing vessels and steamers near it, and in the roadstead of marsala two ships-of-war were anchored. to their joy, they were able to make out through a telescope, while still at a considerable distance, that these vessels were flying the british ensign, and so headed straight for the port, which they found full of merchantmen. they had indeed been attended by good fortune, for three neapolitan ships-of-war had left the port that morning and were still in sight. being evidently suspicious, however, of the two steamers entering the port together, they turned and made for marsala again. not a moment was lost by the garibaldians, and the disembarkation at once began. it happened that the british vessels-of-war were in the line of fire, and consequently the whole of the men were landed before the neapolitans could bring their guns to bear. two-thirds of them were still on the quay, getting the ammunition and stores into the carts, when the enemy opened fire upon them with shell and grape; fortunately the discharges were ill directed, and the garibaldians marched off into the town without loss. they were welcomed with lively acclamation by the working classes of the town; but the authorities, while throwing no opposition in their way, received them under protest, as indeed was natural enough, for they could hardly suppose that this handful of men could succeed against the power of naples, and dreaded the anger of the government should they bestow any warm hospitality upon these adventurers. two days were spent at marsala in gaining information as to the state of the country, making arrangements for the march inland, and for the transport of ammunition and spare rifles, and in obtaining stores of provisions sufficient for two or three days. it was fortunate indeed that no neapolitan troops were stationed in the town, and that they were therefore able to pursue their work without interruption. during the voyage the force had been divided into eight companies, and a ninth was now formed from the sicilians who joined them. the enthusiasm, that had been necessarily shown rather in action than in shouts by the people of marsala, who, with neapolitan ships in the bay, feared that any demonstration might draw upon themselves a terrible retribution, now showed itself openly. the force was accompanied by great numbers of men and women,--even monks joined in the procession,--while from every village parties of fighting men, many of whom had taken part in the late insurrection, joined the party; and when on the day after leaving marsala they reached salemi, the force had been augmented by twelve hundred men. here garibaldi, at the request not only of his own men, but of the authorities of the little town and deputies from villages round, assumed the title of dictator, in the name of victor emmanuel, king of italy--thus proclaiming to the world that he had broken altogether with the republican faction. except when on duty, there was a thorough comradeship among the garibaldians. fully half of the thousand men who had left genoa with him belonged to the upper and professional classes, and were of the same rank of life as the officers; consequently, when the march was done or the men dismissed from parade, all stiffness was thrown aside, and officers and men mingled in the utmost harmony. all were in the highest spirits. the first well-nigh insuperable difficulties had been overcome; the hindrances thrown in their way by the italian government had failed to prevent their embarkation; the danger of falling into the hands of the neapolitan navy had been avoided, and the reception which they met with showed that they had not overestimated the deep feeling of hostility with which the sicilians regarded their oppressors. frank, while on capital terms with all the officers, who were aware how much the expedition owed to his family, and who saw the almost affectionate manner in which garibaldi treated him, kept principally with his special friends, maffio, rubini, and sarto. during the voyage, as an occasional change from the one absorbing topic, they asked him many questions about his school-days, and were intensely interested in his description of the life, so wholly different from that at italian schools and academies. "we don't have such good times as you have," rubini said; "you seem to have done just what you liked, and your masters do not appear to have interfered with you at all." "no, except when in school, they had nothing to do with us." "and you went where you liked and did what you liked, just as if you were grown-up men? it is astonishing," maffio said; "why, with us we are never out of sight of our masters!" "we might not quite go where we liked: there were certain limits beyond which we were supposed not to pass; but really, as long as we did not get into any rows, we could pretty well go anywhere within walking distance. you see, the big fellows to a certain extent keep order; but really they only do this in the houses where we live--outside there is no occasion to look after us. though we are but boys, we are gentlemen, and are expected to act as such. i can't see why boys want looking after, as if they were criminals, who would break into a house or maltreat an old woman, if they had the chance. it is because we are, as it were, put on our honour and allowed to act and think for ourselves, instead of being marched about and herded like a flock of sheep, that our public school boys, as a rule, do so well afterwards. our great general, wellington--at least i think it was he--said, that the battle of waterloo was fought in the playing fields of eton. of course, though he said eton, he meant of all our public schools. certainly we are much less likely to come to grief when we leave school and become our own masters, than we should be, if we had been treated as children up to that time." "that must be so," rubini said thoughtfully. "i wish we had such schools in italy; perhaps we shall have some day. we have many universities, but no schools at all like yours. of course, your masters are not priests?" "well, they are almost all clergymen, but that makes no difference. they are generally good fellows, and take a lot of interest in our sports, which is natural enough, for many of them have been great cricketers or great oarsmen--that is, they have rowed in their university boat. a master who has done that sort of thing is more looked up to by the boys, and is thought more of, than fellows who have never done anything in particular. the sort of fellows who have always been working and reading, and have come out high at the universities, are of course very good teachers, but they don't understand boys half as well as the others do." "but why should you respect a master who has been, as you say, good at sports, more than one who has studied hard?" "well, i don't know exactly. of course it is very creditable to a man to have taken a high degree; but somehow or other one does have a lot of respect for a fellow who you know could thrash any blackguard who had a row with him in a couple of minutes--just the same as one feels a respect for an officer who has done all sorts of brave actions. i heard, some time ago, that one of our masters had been appointed to a church in some beastly neighbourhood in birmingham or one of those manufacturing towns, and the people were such a rough lot that he could do nothing with them at first. but one day, when he was going along the street, he saw a notorious bully thrashing a woman, and he interfered. the fellow threatened him; and he quietly turned in, and gave him the most tremendous thrashing he had ever had, in about three minutes. after that he got to be greatly liked, and did no end of good in his parish. i suppose there was just the same feeling among those fellows as there is with us at school." "it seems impossible," rubini said, in a tone almost of awe, "that a minister should fight with his hands against a ruffian of that kind." "well, i don't know," frank replied: "if you saw a big ruffian thrashing a woman or insulting a lady, or if even he insulted yourself, what would you do? i am supposing, of course, that you were not in uniform, and did not wear a sword." "i do not know what i should do," rubini said gravely. "i hope i should fly at him." "yes; but if he were bigger and stronger, and you could not box, what would be the good of that? he would knock you down, and perhaps kick you almost to death, and then finish thrashing the woman." the three friends looked gravely at each other. "yes; but you say that this man was a priest, a clergyman?" maffio urged. "yes; but you must remember that he was also a man, and there is such a thing as righteous anger. why should a man look on and see a woman ill-treated without lifting his hand to save her, simply because he is a clergyman? no, no, maffio. you may say what you like, but it is a good thing for a man to have exercised all his muscles as a boy, and to be good at sports, and have learned to use his fists. it is good for him, whether he is going to be a soldier, or a colonist in a wild country, or a traveller, or a clergyman. i am saying nothing against learning; learning is a very good thing, but certainly among english boys we admire strength and skill more than learning, and i am quite sure that as a nation we have benefited more by the one than the other. if there was not one among us who had ever opened a latin or greek book, we should still have extended our empire as we have done, colonised continents, conquered india, and held our own, and more, against every other nation by land and sea, and become a tremendous manufacturing and commercial country." the others laughed. "well crowed, percival! no doubt there is a great deal in what you say, still i suppose that even you will hardly claim that you are braver than other people." "not braver," frank said; "but bravery is no good without backbone. if two men equally brave meet, it is the one with most 'last'--that is what we call stamina--most endurance, most strength, and most skill, who must in the long-run win." "but the fault of you english is--i don't mean it offensively--that you believe too much in yourselves." "at any rate," frank replied, "we don't boast about ourselves, as some people do, and it is because we believe in ourselves that we are successful. for example, you all here believe that, small as is your number, you are going to defeat the neapolitans, and i think that you will do it, because i also believe in you. it is that feeling among our soldiers and sailors--their conviction that, as a matter of course, they will in the long-run win--that has carried them through battles and wars against the biggest odds. that was the way that your roman ancestors carried their arms over europe. they were no braver than the men they fought, but they believed thoroughly in themselves, and never admitted to themselves the possibility of defeat. what a mad expedition ours would be if we had not the same feeling!" "i won't argue any more against you, percival," rubini laughed; "and if i ever marry and have sons, i will send them over to be educated at one of your great schools--that is, if we have not, as i hope we may have by that time, schools of the same kind here. can you fence? do you learn that at your schools?" "not as a part of the school course. a fencing master does come down from london once a week, and some of the fellows take lessons from him. i did among others; but once a week is of very little use, and whenever i was in london during the holidays, i went pretty nearly every day to angelo's, which is considered the best school for fencing we have. of course my father, being a soldier, liked me to learn the use of the sword and rapier, though i might never have occasion to use them, for, as i was his only son, he did not want me to go into the army. it is just as well now that i did go in for it." "i don't expect it will be of much use," rubini said. "if the neapolitans do not show themselves to be braver soldiers than we take them for, there will be no hand-to-hand fighting. if, on the other hand, they do stand their ground well, i do not expect we shall ever get to close quarters, for they ought to annihilate us before we could do so. well, i long for the first trial." "so do i. i should think that a good deal would depend upon that. if we beat them as easily as i have heard my father say they were beaten near rome in , it is hardly likely that they will make much stand afterwards. it is not only the effect it will have on the neapolitan troops, but on the people. we cannot expect that the sicilians will join us in considerable number until we have won a battle, and we want them to make a good show. even the most cowardly troops can hardly help fighting when they are twenty to one; but if we are able to make a fair show of force, the enemy may lose heart, even if the greater part of our men are only poorly armed peasants." to most of those who started from genoa, fully prepared to sacrifice their lives in the cause they regarded as sacred, the success that had attended their passage, and enabled them to disembark without the loss of a man, seemed a presage of further good fortune, and they now marched forward with the buoyant confidence, that in itself goes a long way to ensure success; the thought that there were fifty thousand neapolitan troops in the island, and that general lanza had at palermo twenty-eight thousand, in no way overawed them, and the news that a strong body of the enemy had advanced through calatafimi to meet them was regarded with satisfaction. calatafimi stood in the heart of the mountains, where the roads from palermo, marsala and trapani met; and on such ground the disproportion of numbers would be of less importance than it would be in the plain, for the cavalry of the enemy would not be able to act with effect. the ground, too, as they learned from peasants, was covered with ruins of buildings erected by saracens, spaniards, and normans, and was therefore admirably suited for irregular warfare. garibaldi, with a few of his staff, went forward to reconnoitre the position. he decided that his own followers should make a direct attack, while the new levies, working among the hills, should open fire on the neapolitan flanks and charge down upon them as opportunity offered. at marsala the staff had all bought horses, choosing hardy animals accustomed to work among the mountains. it was not the general's intention to hurl his little force directly on the neapolitan centre, situated in the valley, but, while making a feint there, to attack one flank or the other, the rapidity with which his men manoeuvred giving them a great advantage. while, therefore, the six little guns he had obtained at talamonte were to open fire on the enemy's centre, covered by a couple of hundred men, the rest were to act as a mobile force under his own direction; their movements would be screened by the ruins and broken ground, and he would be able to pass in comparative shelter from one flank to the other, and so surprise the enemy by falling upon them where least expected. as they approached the scene of action, the garibaldians left the road, scattering themselves in skirmishing order on either side, and working their way along through the ruins, which so covered their advance, that it was only occasionally that a glimpse of a red shirt or the gleam of the sun on a musket-barrel showed the enemy that their assailants were approaching. on ground like this horses were of little use, and garibaldi ordered all the junior members of his staff to dismount, fasten their horses in places of shelter, and advance on foot with the troops, as he should not require their services during the fight. chapter viii. palermo. frank's heart beat fast with the excitement of the moment. save himself, there was not one of garibaldi's own men but was accustomed to the sound of artillery, and he could scarcely restrain himself from starting when on a sudden the neapolitan batteries opened fire, and their missiles struck rocks and walls round him, or burst overhead. "it is not so bad as it looks," rubini, whom he joined as he ran forward, said with a laugh. "it is fortunate that it is not," frank replied; "it certainly sounds bad enough, but, as i don't think they can see us at all, it can only be a random fire." he soon shook off the feeling of uneasiness which he could not at first repress, and presently quitted his friend and pushed forward on his own account, keeping close to the road and abreast of garibaldi, so that he could run up and receive any orders that might be given. it was not long before the enemy opened a musketry fire. the guns had been following garibaldi, and he now superintended them as they were run into position, three on either side of the road. they were not placed at regular distances, but each was posted where the men would, while loading, be sheltered behind walls, from which the guns could be run out, wheeled round and fired, and then withdrawn. frank was not long in joining the garibaldian line, which was lying in shelter at the foot of the declivity. in front of them was a level space of ground with a few little farmhouses dotted here and there. on the opposite side of this the hills rose much more steeply. near the summit were the main body of the neapolitans, who were altogether about two thousand strong; an advanced guard of some five or six hundred had descended into the valley, and were moving across it; they had guns with them, which were now at work, as were others with the main body. when garibaldi joined his troops he at once ordered the genoese company to attack the advancing enemy and if possible to capture the guns they had with them. followed by a party of the sicilians, and by frank and several other officers who had no special duties to perform, they dashed forward. at the same moment a number of the peasants, who had made their way round on either flank unobserved, opened fire upon the neapolitans, who at the order of the officer in command began to fall back. the garibaldians hurled themselves upon them, and hastened the movement. the guard had no idea of making a frontal attack upon an enemy so strongly posted, and had, as frank had heard him say before he dismounted, intended to compel them to fall back by flank attacks. he was not surprised, therefore, to hear the trumpet sounding the recall. the summons was, however, unheard, or at any rate unheeded, by the genoese, who continued to press hotly upon the neapolitans; the latter had now been joined by their supporting line, and garibaldi saw that the small party, who were now almost surrounded, must be destroyed, unless he advanced to their assistance. the trumpet accordingly sounded the charge, and the men sprang to their feet and dashed forward at full speed. the fighting had been hand to hand, and the garibaldians had only gained the advantage so far from the fact that they were accustomed to fight each for himself, and were individually more powerful men; it was indeed their habit, in all their fights, to rely on the bayonet, and they still pressed forward. frank was now as cool and collected as he would have been in a football match, and had several times to congratulate himself on the training he had received in the use of his sword, having two combats with neapolitan officers, and each time coming off victorious. presently, in front of him, he saw one of the neapolitan standards. in the confusion it had been left almost unguarded; and calling to three or four of the men around him, he dashed at it. there was a short, sharp fight: the men standing between him and the flag fell before the bayonets of the garibaldians. frank engaged in a tough encounter with the officer who held the flag, and finally cutting him down, seized the staff and carried it back into the garibaldian ranks. "well done, well done, percival!" he turned and saw garibaldi himself, who, at the head of his main body, had that instant arrived. the neapolitans, although also reinforced, fell back up the hill. the face of the ascent was composed of a series of natural terraces, and as they retreated up these, a storm of fire from the reserve at the top of the hill and the cannon there, was poured upon the garibaldians. the general halted his men for a minute or two at the foot of the lower terrace, where they were sheltered by the slope from the missiles of the enemy; they were re-formed, and then re-commenced the ascent. it was hot work; the ground was very steep, and swept by the enemy's fire. as each terrace was gained, the men rushed across the level ground and threw themselves down panting at the foot of the next slope, where they were to some extent sheltered. two or three minutes, and they made their next rush. but little return to the enemy's fire was attempted, for the wretched muskets with which they had been supplied at genoa were practically useless, and only the genoese, who had brought their own carbines, and were excellent shots, did much execution. several times the neapolitans attempted to make a stand, but were as often driven back. on this occasion, however, they fought well and steadily; the terror of garibaldi's name had ceased to have its effect during the twelve years that had elapsed since ferdinand's army had fled before him, but the desire to wipe out that disgrace no doubt inspired them, and garibaldi afterwards gave them full credit for the obstinacy with which they had contested his advance. at last the uppermost terrace was reached; there was one more halt for breath, and then the garibaldians went forward with a cheer. the resistance was comparatively slight: the neapolitan troops at first engaged had already exhausted their ammunition, and had become disheartened at their failure to arrest the impetuous assault of their enemies; and when the garibaldians reached the summit of the hill, they found that the enemy were in full retreat. exhausted by their efforts, and having suffered heavy loss, they made a short halt; the horses of the general and his staff were brought up by the small party who had been left with the guns, and who had advanced across the plain at some little distance in the rear of the fighting line. as soon as they arrived the advance continued until the little army halted at calatafimi, some miles from the scene of battle. the garibaldians had captured only one cannon, a few rifles, and a score or two of prisoners, for the most part wounded; but by the defeat of the enemy they had gained an enormous advantage, for, as the news spread throughout the country, its dimensions growing as it flew, it created great enthusiasm, and from every town and village men poured down to join the army of liberation. the neapolitan governor had indeed made a fatal mistake in not placing a much larger force in the field for the first engagement. the troops fought bravely, and though beaten, were by no means disgraced; and had they been supported by powerful artillery, and by a couple of regiments of cavalry, which could have charged the garibaldians in the plain, the battle would have had a very different result. at calatafimi the garibaldians halted. the neapolitan wounded had been left here; their own had, when the fighting ceased, been sent back to vita. the inhabitants vied with each other in hospitality to them, and although saddened by the loss of many of their bravest comrades, all regarded the victory they had won as an augury of future success. already the country had risen; the neapolitans in their retreat had been harassed, and numbers of them killed by the peasants; every hour swelled the force, and next morning they set out in the highest spirits, and with a conviction that success would attend them. and yet there were grave difficulties to be met, for ten thousand neapolitans were massed in two formidable positions on the road by which it was believed that the garibaldians must advance, and twelve thousand remained in garrison at palermo. that evening they reached alcamo, a large town, where they were received with enthusiasm. the excitement was even more lively when the next day they entered partinico, where the inhabitants, who had been brutally treated by the neapolitans in their advance, had risen when they passed through as fugitives, and massacred numbers of them, and pursued them a considerable distance along the road to palermo. at this point the garibaldians left the road, and ascended to the plateau of renne, and thence looked down on the rich plain in which palermo stands, and on the city itself. here two days of tremendous rain prevented farther movement. "you are now seeing the rough side of campaigning, percival," rubini said, with a laugh, as the four friends sat together in a little arbour they had erected, and over the top of which were thrown two of their blankets. "it is not very pleasant, certainly," frank agreed; "but it might be a good deal worse; it is wet, but it is not cold, and we are not fasting; we each of us laid in a good stock of provisions when at partinico, but i certainly never anticipated that we should have to rely upon telegraph poles for a supply of fuel: it is lucky that the wires run across here, for we should certainly have had to eat our meat raw, or go without, if it hadn't been for them." none of the men appeared to mind the discomfort; the supply of wood was too precious to be used except for cooking purposes, and indeed it would be of no use for the men to attempt to dry their clothes until the downpour ceased. two days later, the enemy having sent out a strong reconnoitring party, garibaldi determined to cross the mountains and come down upon the main southern road from palermo. officers had been sent to the various towns on that road to summon all true men to join. the force started in the evening and performed a tremendous march; the guns were lashed to poles and carried on the men's shoulders, the boxes of ammunition were conveyed in the same manner. the rain continued incessantly, and there was a thick fog which added greatly to the difficulties. it was not until daylight that the head of the column began to straggle into parco, on the southern road. they at once seized some commanding positions round the place, and began to throw up entrenchments, but as parco was commanded by hills, it could not be defended against a determined attack. two days later two strong columns marched out from palermo. the first advanced by the road that crossed the valley, and threatened the garibaldian rear by the passage through the hills known as the pass of piana dei greci. garibaldi at once sent off his artillery and baggage by the road, and with a company of his cacciatori and a body of the new levies, who were known as picciotti, hurried to the pass, which they reached before the neapolitans arrived there. on their opening fire, the neapolitans, thinking that they had the whole garibaldian force in front of them in an extremely strong position, retired at once. finding that the freedom of his movements would be embarrassed by his cannon, which under the most advantageous circumstances could not contend against those of the enemy, he sent them away along the southern road, while he withdrew his force from parco, and for a short time followed the guns; he then turned off into the mountains and directed his march to misilmeri, a few miles from palermo, having completely thrown the enemy off his track. the pursuing column, believing that the whole garibaldian force was retreating with its guns, pushed on rapidly, while garibaldi had already turned the strong position of monreale, and was preparing to attack the town. his force had here been increased by the volunteers who had arrived from the southern villages. the neapolitan general, lanza, soon obtained information as to the invader's position, and prepared with absolute confidence to meet his attack, which must, he believed, be made by the coast road. on the evening of the th garibaldi moved across the country by a little-frequented track, and the next morning appeared on the road entering the town at the termini gate. the twelve thousand neapolitan troops who still remained in the town had no suspicion that their foe was near. the day before, the commander of the column that had passed through parco had sent in the news that he was in hot pursuit of the garibaldians, who were flying in all directions, and the governor had given a banquet in honour of the rout of the brigands. the military bands had played on the promenade, and the official portion of the population had been wild with joy. on the other hand, messages had passed constantly between garibaldi's agents and the leaders of the patriotic party in the town, who had promised that the population would rise as soon as he entered the city. it was upon this promise that the general based his hopes of success; for that three thousand badly armed men could hope to overcome twelve thousand troops, well supported by artillery, and defending the town street by street, seemed impossible even to so hopeful a spirit. no time was lost. the garibaldians rushed forward, drove in at once an outpost stationed beyond the barriers at the gate, and carried the barricades, before the troops could muster in sufficient force to offer any serious resistance. but beyond this the opposition became obstinate and fierce; the cacciatori pressed forward by the principal street, the bands of picciotti distracted the attention of the enemy by advancing by parallel streets, and, although the cannon of the castello mare thundered, pouring shot and shell broadcast into the quarter through which the garibaldians were advancing, and though from the large convent of san antonio, held by a battalion of bersaglieri, a terrible fire was maintained upon the flank of the cacciatori at a distance of a couple of hundred yards, they nevertheless pressed on, clearing the street of the troops who opposed their advance, until they reached the square in the centre of the city. all this time the guns of the neapolitan ships-of-war had been pouring a fierce fire into the town, with the apparent object of deterring the populace from rising, for it was upon private houses that the damage was committed, and was, so far as the garibaldians were concerned, innoxious. for a short time the object was attained: so terrible was the fire that swept the principal streets leading down to the water, so alarming the din of exploding shells and falling walls, that for a short time the populace dared not venture from their houses; but fury succeeded to alarm, and it was not long before the inhabitants flocked out into the streets, and under the direction of colonel acerbi, one of the most distinguished officers of the thousand, began to erect barricades. these sprang up with marvellous rapidity; carts were wheeled out from the courtyards and overturned, men laboured with pickaxes and crowbars tearing up the pavements, women threw out mattresses from the windows; all worked with enthusiasm. garibaldi established himself at the pretorio palace, the central point of the city; and here the members of the revolutionary committee joined him. his staff were sent off in all directions to order all the bands scattered throughout the city to assemble there. the people of palermo were wholly without firearms, as all weapons of the kind had been confiscated by the authorities; but armed with hatchets, axes, knives fastened to the end of sticks and poles to act as pikes, long spits and other improvised weapons, they prepared to defend the barricades. a few, indeed, brought out muskets which had been hidden away when all the houses had been searched for weapons, but the greatest difficulty was experienced from the want of powder. garibaldi now stationed his forces so as to intercept all communications between the various points where the neapolitan troops were concentrated. lanza himself, who was at once commander-in-chief and viceroy, was with several regiments at the royal palace. the castello mare was held by a strong force, and there were some regiments at the palace of finance. these points they had only reached after hard fighting; but once there they were isolated from each other, and to join hands they would have to pass along streets blocked by barricades, and defended by a desperate population, and exposed to the fire of the garibaldians from every window and roof. that night hundreds of men and women were set to work to grind charcoal, sulphur, and saltpetre, to mix them together to form a rough gunpowder, and then to make it up into cartridges. such a compound would have been useless for ordinary purposes, but would have sufficient strength for street fighting, where it was but necessary to send a bullet some twenty or thirty yards with sufficient force to kill. the fire of the fleet, castello mare, and the palace was maintained all day. the town was on fire in many places. a whole district a thousand yards in length and a hundred yards wide had been laid in ashes, convents and churches had been crushed by shells, and a large number of the inhabitants had been killed by grape and cannister; but after four hours' fighting there was a lull in the musketry fire: the neapolitans were gathered in their three strong places, and were virtually besieged there. in spite of the continued cannonade, the populace thronged the streets which were not in the direct line of fire, the bells of the churches pealed out triumphantly; bright curtains, cloths and flags were hung out from the balconies, friends embraced each other with tears of joy; while numbers continued to labour at the barricades, the monks and clergy joining in the work, all classes being wild with joy at their deliverance from the long and crushing tyranny to which they had been subjected. frank had entered the city with the chosen band, who had led the attack on the termini gate, and advanced with them into the heart of the city. in the wild excitement of the fight he had lost all sense of danger; he saw others fall around him, his cheek had been deeply gashed by a bullet, but he had scarce felt the pain, and was almost surprised when a man close to him offered to bind up his wound with his sash. one of the first orders that garibaldi gave, after establishing himself at the pretorio palace was to send for him. "lieutenant percival," he said, "i commit to you the honour of leading a party to the prisons, and liberating all the political prisoners you find there. you have won that distinction by having, in the first place, captured the flag of the tyrants at calatafimi, and also by the gallant manner in which you have fought in the first rank to-day. i marked your conduct, and it was worthy of your brave father. i can give it no higher praise." taking twenty men with him, frank went to the prisons. on entering each, he demanded from the officials a list of all prisoners confined, and the offences with which they were charged, so that no criminals should be released with the political prisoners. he hardly needed the list, however, for the criminals were but few in number, the neapolitan authorities not having troubled themselves with such trifles as robberies and assassinations, but the prisons were crowded with men of the best blood in the city and the surrounding country, who had been arrested upon the suspicion of holding liberal opinions, and who were treated with very much greater severity than were the worst malefactors. the thunder of the guns had already informed them that a terrible conflict was going on, but it was not until frank and his men arrived that the prisoners knew who were the parties engaged, and their joy and gratitude was unbounded when they learned that they were free, now and for ever, from the power of their persecutors. as they marched to the prison, several of the men had shouted to the crowd, "we are going to free the captives." the news had spread like wildfire, and as the prisoners issued from the jail they were met by their friends and relatives, and the most affecting scenes took place. although frank considered it unlikely in the extreme that persons arrested on the mainland would be carried across to the island, he insisted on the warders accompanying him over the whole prison and unlocking every door, in spite of their protestations that the cells were empty. having satisfied himself on this head, he went to the other prisons, where similar scenes took place. the fire of the neapolitan ships was kept up until nightfall, and then ceased, rather from the exhaustion of the gunners, who had been twelve hours at work, than from any difficulty in sighting their guns; for in palermo it was almost as light as day, the whole city being lit up by the tremendous conflagration, and in addition every house save those facing the port was illuminated, candles burning at every window. throughout the night work was carried on, fresh barricades were erected, and others greatly strengthened. it was all-important that the three bodies of troops, isolated from each other, should not effect a junction. boats were sent off to the merchant ships in the harbour in order to purchase powder, but none could be obtained; however, by morning so much had been manufactured that with what still remained in the garibaldian pouches there was enough for the day's fighting. at garibaldi's headquarters there was no sleep that night: the revolutionary committee received orders from the general where the armed citizens were to take their posts at the barricades, and how their men were to be divided into sections. they were to impress upon all that, though the fighting must be desperate, it could not last long. at the royal palace there were no provisions of any kind for the troops stationed there, nor were there any in the palace of finance; so that if the struggle could be maintained for another day or two at the most, the troops would be driven to surrender by starvation. frank had time, after he returned from the prisons, to have his wound dressed, and he then received the congratulations of his three friends, all of whom were more or less severely wounded. "you have come out of it rather the best of us, percival," maffio said: "i have a bullet through the arm, rubini has lost two of the fingers of his left hand, and sarto will limp for some time, for he has been shot through the calf of his leg; so we shall have no scars that we can show, while you will have one that will be as good as a medal of honour." "i am sure i hope not," frank said; "i can assure you that, honourable as it may be, it would be a nuisance indeed, for i should be constantly asked where i got it, and when i answered, should be bothered into telling the whole story over and over again. however, i think we can all congratulate each other on having come out of it comparatively unhurt; i certainly never expected to do so,--the row was almost bewildering." "it was almost as bad as one of your football tussles," sarto laughed. "you may laugh, but it was very much the same feeling," frank replied. "i have felt nearly as much excited in a football scrimmage as i was to-day; i can tell you that when two sides are evenly matched, and each fellow is straining every nerve, the thrill of satisfaction when one finds that one's own side is gaining ground is about as keen as anything one is ever likely to feel." the next day the fighting recommenced, the neapolitan troops making desperate efforts to concentrate. the fighting in the streets was for a time furious. at no point did the enemy make any material progress, although they gained possession of some houses round the palace and finance offices. the barricades were desperately defended by the armed citizens and the picciotti, and from time to time, when the neapolitans seemed to be gaining ground, the men of garibaldi's thousand flung themselves upon them with the bayonet. that morning, under the superintendence of skilled engineers, powder mills were established, and the supply of gunpowder was improved both in quantity and quality, men and women filling the cartridges as fast as the powder was turned out. fighting and work continued throughout the night, and all next day. chapter ix. hard fighting. on the following morning frank was riding with a message from the general, when he heard a sudden outburst of firing at some distance ahead of him. he checked his horse to listen. "that must be near the porto termini," he said, "and yet there are none of the enemy anywhere near there. it must be either some fresh body of troops that have arrived from the south of the island, or bosco's column returned from their fool's errand in search of us. if so, we are in a desperate mess. six thousand neapolitan troops, under one of their best generals, would turn the scale against us; they must be stopped, if possible, till the general can collect our scattered troops." frank's second supposition was the correct one. the two columns that had, as they believed, been in pursuit of garibaldi, had returned to the town. so unanimous were the country people in their hatred of the neapolitans, that it was only on the previous day that they had learned that the enemy, who they believed were fugitives, had entered palermo with their whole force. furious at having been so tricked, they made a tremendous march, and arriving at the termini gate early in the morning, made a determined attack on the guard there, who defended themselves bravely, but were driven back, contesting every step. frank hesitated for a moment, and then shouted to a soldier near him: "run with all speed to the palace; demand to see the general at once. say that you have come from me, and that i sent you to say that the porto termini is attacked, i know not with what force, and that i am going on to try to arrest their progress until he arrives with help. as you run, tell every man you meet to hasten to oppose the enemy." the man started to run, and frank galloped on, shouting to every armed man he met to follow him. the roar of battle increased as he rode. when he reached the long street leading to the gate, he saw that the enemy had already forced their way in, and that a barricade was being desperately defended by the little force that had fallen back before them. his horse would be useless now, and he called to a boy who was looking round the corner of a house. "look here, my lad: take this horse and lead him to the general's headquarters. here is a five-franc piece. don't get on his back, but lead him. can i trust you?" "i will do it, signor; you can depend upon me." frank ran forward. the tremendous roll of fire beyond the barricade showed how strong was the force there, and he felt sure that the defenders must speedily be overpowered. numbers of men were running along the street; he shouted to them: "the barricade cannot hold out; enter the houses and man every window; we must keep them back to the last. garibaldi will be here before long." he himself kept on until within some two hundred yards of the barricade; then he stopped at the door of a house at the corner of a lane at right angles to the street, and ran into it. he waited until a score of men came up. "come in here," he said: "we will defend this house till the last." the men closed the door behind them, and running into the lower rooms, fetched out furniture and piled it against it. they were assisted by five or six women, who, with some children, were the sole occupants of the house. "bring all the mattresses and bedding that you have," frank said to them, "to the windows of the first floor. we will place them on the balconies." in three or four minutes every balcony was lined with mattresses, and frank sheltered his men behind them. looking out, he saw that the fighting had just ceased, and that a dense mass of the enemy were pouring over the barricade; while at the same moment a crackling fire broke out from the houses near, into which its defenders had run, when they saw that the barricade could be no longer defended. along both sides of the street, preparations similar to those he had ordered had been hastily made; and the men who were still coming up were all turning into the houses. directly the neapolitans crossed the barricade, they opened fire down the street, which was speedily deserted; but frank had no doubt that, as the garibaldian supports came up, they would make their way in at the back and strengthen the defenders. a hundred yards higher up the street was another barricade; behind this the townspeople were already gathering. frank ordered his men to keep back inside the rooms until the enemy came along. "your powder is no good till they are close," he said, "but it is as good as the best at close quarters." [illustration: "the hinges of the door were broken off"] from time to time he looked out. the roar of musketry was continuous; from every window came puffs of smoke, while the enemy replied by a storm of musketry fire at the defenders. while the column was still moving forward, its officers were telling off parties of men to burst open the doors and bayonet all found in the houses. he could mark the progress made, as women threw themselves out of the windows, preferring death that way to being murdered by the infuriated soldiers. it was not long before the head of the column approached the house; then frank gave the word, and from every window a discharge was poured into the crowded mass. stepping back from the balconies to load, the men ran out and fired again as soon as they were ready; while through the upper part of the open windows a shower of bullets flew into the room, bringing down portions of the ceiling, smashing looking-glasses, and striking thickly against the back walls. several of the party had fallen in the first two or three minutes, and frank, taking one of their muskets and ammunition, was working with the rest, when a woman whom he had posted below ran up to say that they were attacking the door, and that it was already yielding. two or three shots fired through the keyhole had indeed broken the lock, and it was only the furniture piled against it that kept it in its place. already, by his instructions, the women had brought out on to the landing sofas, chests of drawers, and other articles, to form a barricade there. frank ran down the stone stairs with six of the men, directing the others to form the barricade on the first floor, and to be prepared to help them over as they returned. it was two or three minutes before the hinges of the door were broken off, by shots from the assailants, and as it fell it was dragged out, and a number of men rushed in and began to pull down the furniture behind. now frank and his party opened fire, aiming coolly and steadily. but the soldiers rushed in in such numbers that he soon gave the word, and his party ran upstairs, and, covered by the fire of their comrades, climbed up over the barricade on to the landing. here they defended themselves desperately. the enemy thronged the staircase, those who were in front using their bayonets, while the men in the passage below fired over their heads at the defenders. momentarily the little band decreased in number, until but two remained on their feet by the side of frank. the women, knowing that no mercy would be shown, picked up the muskets of the fallen, and fired them into the faces of the men trying to pull down or scale the barricades. but the end was close at hand, when there came a tremendous crash, a blinding smoke and dust. the house shook to its foundations, and for a moment a dead silence took the place of the din that had before prevailed. frank and his two companions had been thrown down by the shock. half stunned, and ignorant of what had happened, he struggled to his feet. his left hand hung helpless by his side. he took his pistol, which he had reserved for the last extremity, from his belt, and looked over the barricade. at first he could see nothing, so dense was the smoke and dust. as it cleared away a little, he gave an exclamation of surprise and thankfulness: the stairs were gone. "thank god!" he said, turning round to the women behind him, who were standing paralysed by the explosion and shock. "we are safe: the stairs have gone." still he could scarce understand what had happened, until he saw a yawning hole in the wall near the stairs, and then understood what had taken place. the ships-of-war were again at work bombarding the town. one of their shells had passed through the house and exploded under the stairs, carrying them away, with all upon them. below was a chaos of blocks of stone, mingled with the bodies of their late assailants; but while he looked, a fierce jet of flame burst up. "what was there under the stairs?" he asked the women. "the store of firewood, signor, was there." "the shell which blew up the stairs has set it alight," he said. "we are safe from the enemy; but we are not safe from the fire. i suppose there is a way out on to the roof?" "yes, signor." "then do one of you see that all the children upstairs are taken out there; let the rest examine all the bodies of the men who have fallen; if any are alive they must be carried up." he looked down at the two men who had stood by him till the last: one had been almost decapitated by a fragment of stone, the other was still breathing; only three of the others were found to be alive, for almost all, either at the windows or the barricade, had been shot through the head or upper part of the body. frank assisted the women, as well as he was able, to carry the four men still alive up to the roof. the houses were divided by party walls some seven or eight feet high. frank told the women to fetch a chair, a chest of drawers, and a large blanket, from below. the chest of drawers was placed against the wall separating the terrace from that of the next house down the lane, and the chair by the side of it. with the aid of this, frank directed one of the women to mount on to the chest of drawers, and then took his place beside her. "you had better get up first," he said, "and then help me a little, for with this disabled arm i should not be able to manage it without hurting myself badly." with her aid, however, he had no difficulty in getting up. there were several women on the next roof, but they had not heard him, so intent were they in watching the fray; and it was not until he had shouted several times that they caught the sound of his voice above the din of fighting. "i am going to hand some children and four wounded men down to you," he said, as they ran up. the children were first passed down; the women placed the wounded men one by one on a blanket, and standing on two chairs raised it until frank and the woman beside him could get hold. then they lowered it down on the other side until the women there could reach it. only three had to be lifted over, for when it came to the turn of the fourth he was found to be dead. "you will all have to move on," frank said, as he dropped on to the terrace; "the next house is on fire: whether it will spread or not i cannot say, but at any rate you had better bring up your valuables, and move along two or three houses farther. you cannot go out into the street; you would only be shot down as soon as you issued out. i think that if you go two houses farther you will be safe; the fire will take some time to reach there, and the enemy's column may have passed across the end of the street before you are driven out." the women heard what he said with composure; the terrors of the past three days had excited the nerves of the whole population to such a point of tension, that the news of this fresh danger was received almost with apathy. they went down quietly to bring up their children and valuables, and with them one woman brought a pair of steps, which greatly facilitated the passage of the remaining walls. one of the wounded men had by this time so far recovered himself that he was able, with assistance, to cross without being lifted over in a blanket. a fresh contingent of fugitives here joined them, and another wall was crossed. "i think that you are now far enough," frank said: "will you promise me that if the flames work this way"--and by this time the house where the fight had taken place was on fire from top to bottom--"you will carry these wounded men along as you go from roof to roof? i have my duties to perform and cannot stay here longer. of course, if the fire spreads all the way down the lane, you must finally go down and run out from the door of the last house; but there will be comparatively small danger in this, as it will be but two or three steps round the next corner, and you will there be in shelter." "we promise we will carry them with us," one of the women said earnestly: "you do not think that we could leave the men who have fought so bravely for us to be burnt?" frank now proceeded along the roofs. two of the women accompanied him, to place the steps to enable him to mount and dismount the walls. there was no occasion to warn those below as to the fire, for all had by this time noticed it. he went down through the last house, opened the door, and ran round the corner, and then made his way along the streets until he reached the spot where the combat was raging. garibaldi had, on receiving his message, hurried with what force he could collect to the scene of conflict; but, as he went, he received a letter from general lanza, saying that he had sent negotiators on board the flag-ship of the british fleet anchored in the roadstead, admiral mundy having consented to allow the representatives of both parties to meet there. the tone of the letter showed how the sicilian viceroy's pride was humbled. he had, in his proclamation issued four days before, denounced garibaldi as a brigand and filibuster; he now addressed him as his excellency general garibaldi. garibaldi at once went on board the english admiral's ship, but the fire of the neapolitan ships and their guns on shore continued unabated. general letizia was already on board, with the conditions of the proposed convention. to the first four articles garibaldi agreed: that there should be a suspension of arms for a period to be arranged; that during that time each party should keep its position; that convoys of wounded, and the families of officials, should be allowed to pass through the town and embark on board the neapolitan war-ships; and that the troops in the palace should be allowed to provide themselves with daily provisions. the fifth article proposed that the municipality should address a humble petition to his majesty the king, laying before him the real wishes of the town, and that this petition should be submitted to his majesty. this article was indignantly rejected by garibaldi. letizia then folded up the paper and said, "then all communications between us must cease." garibaldi then protested to admiral mundy against the infamy of the royal authorities in allowing the ships and forts to continue to fire upon his troops while a flag of truce was flying. letizia, who could hardly have expected that the article would be accepted, now agreed to its being struck out, and an armistice was arranged to last for twenty-four hours. garibaldi returned on shore, and at a great meeting of the citizens explained the terms to them, and stated the condition that he had rejected. it was greeted with a roar of approval, and the citizens at once scattered with orders to increase the strength of the barricades to the utmost. the work was carried on with enthusiasm; the balconies were all lined with mattresses, and heaped with stones and missiles of all kinds to cast down upon the enemy, and the work of manufacturing powder and cartridges went on with feverish haste. now that the firing had ceased, officers from the british and american vessels off the town came ashore, and many of them made presents of revolvers and fowling-pieces to the volunteers. the sailors on a sardinian frigate almost mutinied, because they were not permitted to go ashore and aid in the defence. before the twenty-four hours had passed, general letizia called upon garibaldi and asked for a further three days' truce, as twenty-four hours was not a sufficient time to get the wounded on board. this garibaldi readily granted, as it would give time for the barricades to be made almost impregnable, and for him to receive reinforcements, while it could not benefit the enemy. volunteers arrived in companies from the country round, and orsini landed with the cannon and with a considerable number of men who had joined him. such was the report given by letizia, on his return to the royal palace, of the determined attitude of the population and of the formidable obstacles that would be encountered by the troops directly they were put in motion, that general lanza must have felt his position to be desperate. he accordingly sent letizia back again to arrange that the troops at the royal palace, the finance office, and the termini gate should be allowed to move down towards the sea and there join hands. to this garibaldi willingly assented, as, should hostilities be renewed, he would be able to concentrate his whole efforts at one point, instead of being obliged to scatter his troops widely to meet an advance from four directions. all idea of further fighting, however, had been abandoned by lanza, and before the end of the armistice arrived, it was arranged that all should be taken on to their ships, and the forts, as well as the town, evacuated. the general also bound himself to leave behind him all the political prisoners who had been detained in the castello mare. the enthusiasm in the city was indescribable, as the neapolitans embarked on board their ships. the released prisoners were carried in triumph to garibaldi's headquarters. every house was decorated and illuminated, and the citizens, proud of the share they had taken in winning their freedom, speedily forgot their toils and their losses. the men who had marched with garibaldi from marsala were glad indeed of the prospect of a short time of rest. for nearly three weeks they had been almost incessantly marching or fighting, exposed for some days to a terrible downfall of rain, without shelter and almost without food. since they had entered palermo, they had only been able to snatch two or three hours' sleep occasionally. they had lost a large number of men, and few of them had escaped unwounded; but these, unless absolutely disabled, had still taken their share in the fighting, and even in the work of building the barricades. for garibaldi's staff there was little relaxation from their labours. in addition to his military duties, garibaldi undertook with his usual vigour the reorganisation of the municipal affairs of the town. the condition of the charitable establishments was ameliorated; schools for girls established throughout the island; a national militia organised; the poorer part of the population were fed and employed in useful work; the street arabs, with whom palermo swarmed, were gathered and placed in the jesuit college, of which garibaldi took possession, to be trained as soldiers. the organisation of the general government of the island was also attended to, and recruiting officers sent off to every district evacuated by the enemy. this garibaldi was able to do, as over £ , , sterling had been, by the terms of the convention, left in the royal treasury when it was evacuated by the enemy. contracts for arms were made abroad; a foundry for cannon established in the city, and the powder mills perfected and kept at work. increasing reinforcements flocked in from the mainland; medici with three steamers and two thousand men arrived the evening before the neapolitan troops had finished their embarkation; cosenz shortly afterwards landed with an equal number; other contingents followed from all the italian provinces. great britain was represented by a number of enthusiastic men, who were formed into a company. among these was a cornish gentleman of the name of peard, who had long been resident in italy, and had imbibed a deep hatred of the tyrannical government that ground down the people, and persecuted, imprisoned, and drove into exile all who ventured to criticise their proceedings. he was a splendid shot, and the coolness he showed, and his success in picking off the enemy's officers, rendered him a noted figure among garibaldi's followers. the army was now organised in three divisions: one under general turr marched for the centre of the island; the right wing, commanded by bixio, started for the south-east; and the left, under medici, was to move along the north coast; all were finally to concentrate at the straits of messina. it was now the middle of july. wonders had been accomplished in the six weeks that had passed since the occupation of palermo. garibaldi, who had been regarded as almost a madman, was now recognised as a power. he had a veritable army, well supplied with funds--for in addition to the million he had found in the treasury, subscriptions had been collected from lovers of freedom all over europe, and specially from england--and although there still remained a formidable force at messina, it was regarded as certain that the whole of sicily would soon become his. one of the neapolitan war-ships had been brought by her captain and crew into palermo and placed at the disposal of garibaldi; two others had been captured. cavour himself had changed his attitude of coldness, and was prepared to take advantage of the success of the expedition, that he had done his best to hinder. he desired, however, that garibaldi should resign his dictatorship and hand over the island to the king of sardinia. the general, however, refused to do this. he had all along declared in his proclamations that his object was to form a free italy under victor emmanuel, and now declared that he would, when he had captured naples, hand that kingdom and sicily together to the king, but that until he could do so he would remain dictator of sicily. there can be no doubt that his determination was a wise one, for, as afterwards happened at naples, he would have been altogether put aside by the royalist commissioners and generals, his plans would have been thwarted in every way, and hindrances offered to his invasion of the mainland, just as they had been to his expedition to sicily. cavour sent over farina to act in the name of the king. admiral persano, who, with a portion of the italian navy, was now at palermo, persuaded garibaldi to allow farina to assume the position of governor; but, while allowing this, garibaldi gave him to understand that he was to attend solely to financial and civil affairs. farina's first move, however, was to have an enormous number of placards that he had brought with him stuck all over the city, and sent to all the towns of the island, with the words, "vote for immediate annexation under the rule of victor emmanuel." the sicilians neither knew nor cared anything for victor emmanuel, whose very name was almost unknown to the peasants. it was garibaldi who had delivered them, and they were perfectly ready to accept any form of government that he recommended. garibaldi at once told farina that he would not allow such proceedings. the latter maintained that he was there under the authority of the king, and should take any steps he chose; whereupon the general sent at once for a party of troops, who seized him and carried him on board persano's ships, with the advice that he should quit the island at once. this put an effectual stop to several intrigues to reap the entire fruits of garibaldi's efforts. frank had passed a weary time. his wound had been a serious one, and at first the surgeons had thought that it would be necessary to amputate the limb. garibaldi, however, who, in spite of his many occupations, found time to come in twice a day for a few minutes' talk with him, urged them, before operating, to try every means to save the arm; and two weeks after frank received the wound, the care that had been bestowed upon him and his own excellent constitution enabled them to state confidently that he need no longer have any anxiety upon that account, as his recovery was now but a question of time. the general thanked frank for the early information sent by him of bosco's arrival, and for his defence of the house, and as a reward for these and his other services promoted him to the rank of captain. a fortnight later, he was so far convalescent that he could move about with his arm in a sling. he had already regained most of his bodily strength, and by the end of the second week in july he was again on horseback. he was, then, delighted when, on july th, he heard that garibaldi was going to start at once to assist medici, who, with cosenz, had advanced to within some twenty miles of messina, and had had some skirmishes with a force of six thousand five hundred picked troops with a powerful artillery. the neapolitans, who were commanded by general bosco, had now taken up a very strong position near the town and fortress of milazzo. colonel corti arrived at palermo on that day with nine hundred men in an american ship. he had left genoa at the same time as medici, but the vessel was captured by neapolitan men-of-war, and towed into naples, where she was anchored under the guns of the fort. she lay there for twenty-two days, when the strong remonstrances of the american minister forced the government of naples to allow her to leave. she now arrived just in time for those on board to take part in the operations. garibaldi embarked a portion of them on a british merchantman he had chartered, and proceeded on board with his staff. the next day he landed at the port of patti, some twenty miles from milazzo, and on the th joined medici's force. a strong brigade that had been sent by land had not yet arrived, but garibaldi determined to attack at once. the position of the neapolitan force was a very strong one. their right extended across the front of the fortress of milazzo, and was protected by its artillery; its approaches were hidden by cactus hedges, which screened the defenders from view, and could not be penetrated by an attacking force, except after cutting them down with swords or axes. the centre was posted across the road leading along the shore. its face was defended by a strong wall, which had been loopholed. in front of this the ground was covered with a thick growth of canes, through which it was scarcely possible for men to force their way. the neapolitan left were stationed in a line of houses lying at right-angles to the centre, and therefore capable of maintaining a flanking fire on any force advancing to the attack. the garibaldians suffered from the very great disadvantage of being ignorant of the nature of the ground and of the enemy's position, the neapolitans being completely hidden from view by the cactus hedges and cane brakes. garibaldi had intended to attack before daylight, but the various corps were so widely scattered that it was broad day before the fight began. as soon as the force had assembled they advanced across the plain, which was covered with trees and vineyards, and as they approached the enemy's position they were received with a heavy fire by the unseen foe. for hours the fight went on. in vain the garibaldians attempted to reach their hidden enemies, for each time they gathered and rushed forward, they were met by so heavy a fire that they were forced to retire. the left wing, indeed, gave way altogether and fell back some distance from the battle-field, but the centre and right, where garibaldi himself, with medici and many of his best officers were fighting, still persevered. at one o'clock garibaldi sent off several of his officers to endeavour to rally and bring up some of the scattered detachments of the left wing. after a lot of hard work they returned with a considerable force. garibaldi, at the head of sixty picked men, made his way along the shore, until, unobserved, they reached a point on the flank of the enemy's left wing; then, pouring in a heavy volley, they dashed forward, captured a gun, and drove the neapolitans from their line of defence. suddenly, however, a squadron of the enemy's cavalry fell upon the garibaldians and drove them back in disorder. garibaldi himself was forced off the road into a ditch; four troopers attacked him, but he defended himself with his sword, until missori, one of his aides-de-camp, rode up and shot three of the dragoons. the other troops, who had been following at a distance, now came up; and together they advanced, driving before them the defenders of the enemy's entrenchments, until these, losing heart, broke into flight towards the town. the panic spread, and at all points the garibaldians burst through the defences, in spite of the fire of the guns of the fortress, and pursued the flying enemy into the town. here a sanguinary contest was maintained for some hours, but at last the neapolitan troops were all driven into the fortress, which, now that the town had been evacuated by their own men, opened fire upon it. the gunners were, however, much harassed by the deadly fire maintained by peard and his companions, all of whom were armed with rifles of the best pattern, while the guns of the garibaldian frigate played upon the sea face of the fortress. the position was, in fact, untenable. general bosco knew that no assistance could reach him, for the greater portion of the neapolitan troops had already withdrawn from the island. the little fortress was crowded with troops, and he had but a small supply of provisions. three days later, he hoisted the white flag, and sent one of his officers into the town to negotiate terms of surrender. these were speedily concluded. all artillery, ammunition, and the mules used by the artillery and transport, were left behind, and the troops were to be allowed to march, with their firearms, down to the wharf; there to be conveyed on board the ships in the harbour, and landed on the mainland. frank had not taken part in the battle of milazzo, which had cost the garibaldians over a thousand in killed and wounded; for he had been despatched by garibaldi, when the latter went on board ship at palermo, to general bixio, who was in the centre of the island, to inform him of the general's advance, and to state that probably he would be in messina in a week. he said that some little time must elapse before the arrangements for the passage across to the mainland could be effected; and that bixio was to continue to stamp out the communistic movement, that had burst out in several of the towns there, and to scatter the bands of brigands; and was, a fortnight after frank's arrival, to march with his force to messina. frank would have much preferred to accompany the general, but the latter said: "no doubt, percival, you would have liked to go with me, but some one must be sent, and my choice has fallen upon you. i have chosen you because, in the first place, you are your father's son. you have already distinguished yourself greatly, and have fought as fearlessly and as steadily as the best of my old followers. surely it would be impossible for me to give you higher praise than that. in the next place, you are not yet fit for the hard work of the campaign. mantoni tells me that it will be some weeks before your arm will be strong again; though the bone has healed better than he had expected, after the serious injury you received in your gallant defence of that house, when bosco entered the town. "but even had it not been for that, i think that you have done more than your share. there are many ardent spirits who have arrived from the mainland, who have not yet had a chance of striking a blow for their country; and it is but fair that they should have their opportunity. moreover, your mother sent you out on a special mission, first to hand to me her noble gift, and secondly to search the prisons in the towns we might occupy, for her father, and possibly her husband. she knew that, going with me, you must share in the perils and honours of the campaign. you have done so gloriously, but in that way you have done enough. grievous indeed would it be to me had i to write to your good mother to say that the son she had sent me had been killed. her father has been a victim for italian liberty. her husband has, if our suspicions are well founded, sacrificed himself by the fearlessness with which he exposed the iniquities of the tyrants' prison-houses. it would be too cruel that she should be deprived of her son also. "i regard it as certain that you will not find those you seek in the prisons of this island. as you saw when we opened the doors here, there were no prisoners from the mainland among those confined there. you will be with me when we cross the straits: it is there that your mission will really begin, and it is best that you should reserve yourself for that. the battle i go to fight now will be the last that will be needed, to secure at least the independence of sicily. and i doubt much whether, when we have once crossed, we shall have to fight as hard as we have done. here we landed a handful; we shall land on the mainland over twenty thousand strong; the enemy despised us then--they will fear us now." "thank you, general; i should not have thought of questioning your orders, whatever they might have been, but i felt for a moment a little disappointment that i was not to take part in the next battle. i will start at once to join general bixio. will it be necessary for me to stay with him till he marches to messina, or can i ride for that city when i have delivered your orders?" "in that you can consult your own wishes, but be assured that i shall not attempt to cross the straits until bixio joins me; and i should say that you would find it more interesting with him than doing routine work at messina; moreover, you must remember that the population there are not all united in our favour, as they are here. they are doubtless glad to be free, but the agents of the revolutionists have been at work among them, and, as you know, with such success that i have been obliged to send bixio with a division to suppress the disorders that have arisen. i have not freed sicily to hand it over to mazzini's agents, but that it shall form a part of united italy under victor emmanuel. still there is enough excitement existing there to render it somewhat hazardous for one of my officers to ride alone through the country, and i think that it would be much better for you therefore to remain with bixio." chapter x. with bixio. just as the ship carrying garibaldi and his followers weighed anchor, frank rode out from palermo. the road was the best in the island, and he arrived late that evening at polizzi, a distance of some forty miles from palermo. on the following day he halted at traina; here he found a detachment of bixio's brigade, which was commanded by rubini, who welcomed him most cordially. "who would have thought of seeing you, percival! surely the general is not coming this way?" "he started yesterday to join medici, and give battle to bosco, who has some seven thousand picked troops at milazzo. he has sent me here with an order for bixio." "it is enough to make one tear one's hair," rubini said, "to think that we are out of it." "well, we have done our share, rubini, and although i was disappointed at first, i admit that it is only fair that the men who have done no fighting should have a turn. we have lost about a third of our number, and most of us have been wounded. medici's corps have never fired a shot yet, nor have those of cosenz; we shall have our share again when we cross to calabria. now, what are you doing here?" "we are scattered about in small detachments, giving a sharp lesson, whenever we get the chance, to the revolutionists." "but who are the revolutionists?" "they are agents of the revolutionary committee--that is, of mazzini and his fanatics--and it seems that several parties of them were landed on the east coast to get up a row on their own account; and just as farina has been trying to induce the country to throw over garibaldi, and declare for victor emmanuel, of whom the people know nothing, and for whom they care less, these agents have been trying to get them to declare for a republic, and they have certainly had more success than farina had. there is nothing tangible in the idea of a king, while, when the poor fools are told that a republic means that the land and property of the rich are to be handed over to the poor, the programme has its attractions. at any rate, it has its attractions for the brigands, of whom, at the best of times, there are always a number in the forests on the slopes of etna; and i have no doubt that money was freely distributed among them to inflame their zeal. several houses of well-to-do citizens and country proprietors had been looted, and something like a reign of terror had begun, before bixio's brigade marched to restore order. "you see there are a great many more of these bands in the forests than usual. after the rising in the winter was suppressed, very many of those who took part in it dared not return to their homes, and so fled to the hills; the better class of these men came in as soon as our capture of palermo made it safe for them to do so. a company of them has been formed, and is now with bixio, and i believe that others have enlisted with medici; still there are a good many of the lower class who joined in the rising, still among the hills. in a rebellion like this the insurgents would be divided into two classes--the one true patriots, the other men who join in the hope of plunder, the discontented riffraff of the towns. a life in the mountains offers great attractions to these: in the first place they don't have to work for a living, and in the next there is always the chance of carrying off some rich proprietor and getting a large ransom for him. these therefore go to swell the ranks of the men who have for years set the authorities of the island at defiance, and have terrorised all the people dwelling on the plains at the foot of etna. "just at present all these men call themselves republicans, and had it not been for bixio's arrival they would have established a perfect reign of terror. we here have shot a good many, and i believe bixio has also given them some sharp lessons; at any rate, our presence here has effectually stopped the game of the revolutionists in the towns and villages on the plain, but it will be a long time indeed before brigandage can be suppressed, and of course there is no intention of attempting such a business now; that will be a work that must be undertaken by government, when italy has achieved her freedom, and feels in a position to turn her attention to putting down these bands which have for years past--i may almost say for centuries--been a disgrace to our land. we are here solely to put a stop to the revolutionary movement, just as garibaldi put a stop to the royal movement by sending farina out of the island." "and where is bixio?" "he has been sweeping through the small towns and villages round the foot of the mountains, and will this afternoon, i believe, arrive at bronte, which has been the headquarters of this revolutionary business. i expect he will put his foot heavily on the men who have been foremost in stirring the people up there. bixio is just the man for this work. he knows that one sharp lesson impresses the minds of people like these sicilians, and has far more effect than lenient measures or verbal reproofs. they have to be taught that it is not for them to meddle in affairs of state. all these matters must be left to their representatives in parliament and the government of the country. the petty authorities of these little towns come to regard themselves as important personages, and indulge themselves in prating on public affairs, instead of minding their own business, which, in this case, is to do their best to give protection to the people in their districts against the incursions of bands of brigands. i suppose you go on to-morrow?" "yes; i shall start at daybreak; it is not many hours' ride." "i have about a score of mounted men here, percival. i will send four of them with you." "surely there is no occasion for that," frank said. "well, i don't know: i think there is. there are no large bands, so far as i know, down in the plain at present; but some of these gangs have broken up, especially those that came from the mainland, and have not as yet taken to the mountains. they go about perpetrating crimes at detached houses or on any traveller they meet. i need not say that at present their animosity to the red shirts is bitter, and that in revenge for their comrades who have been shot or hanged, they would certainly kill any of us on whom they could lay hands; so it would be better for you to have four men as an escort. they might as well be doing that as anything else, for just at present there is nothing going on about here, and it is as dull as it would be in a small garrison town in northern italy. how long do you suppose it will be before we join garibaldi at messina?" "not for some little time, i think. if he and medici defeat bosco at milazzo, as i suppose they will, he will at once go on to messina; but his message to bixio was that it must take some time to make the preparations for crossing to the mainland, and that until he sends word to the general to join him, he is to continue his work of stamping out this movement in restoring order, in reorganising the municipal authorities, and in placing the administration of the towns and villages in the hands of well-affected men, so that there can be no chance of mazzini's party causing any serious disturbances again, after he has left." "i see you still wear your arm in a sling?" "yes; mantoni told me that it would not be safe to take it out of the splints for another month, but he had every hope that when i did so i should be able to use it, though i must not put too much strain on it. of course it is a nuisance, but i have every reason to be thankful, for i was afraid for a time that i was going to lose it altogether." "it was a grand thing, the defence of that house, percival." "it was a grand thing that that shell struck the stairs just when it did, for another minute would have seen the end of the defence and of our lives. as it was, that explosion saved four of us, for the wounded men we carried off are all convalescent,--and also the lives of five women and eight children, for, exasperated as the neapolitans were, they would assuredly have shown no more mercy there than they did in the other houses they entered. i have been well rewarded, for garibaldi has made me captain." sarto and maffio returned at this moment, and the three heartily congratulated frank on his promotion. they had been away with a small detachment to a village three miles distant, in search of a man who had been one of the most prominent in stirring up the peasantry, but he had left before they got there. they spent a pleasant evening together, and in the morning frank started with the four mounted men and rode to bronte. just as he approached the town he heard several volleys of musketry, and on inquiry found that thirty men who had been captured on the march or caught in hiding in the town had been shot. all were strangers--either revolutionary agents or brigands. on inquiring for the general, he found that he had just gone to the town hall, where he had ordered the municipal authorities and the principal citizens to meet him. putting up his horse, he went there first. bixio had just begun to speak. "if i had done my duty," he said, "you as well as the men who have been stirring up riot and revolution would be lying dead outside the town. it is scandalous that you, men who have been elected by your fellows for the maintenance of order and good government in this town and district, should allow yourselves to be terrified into obedience by a handful of agitators, instead of calling out all the men capable of bearing arms and suppressing the sedition at once. you have failed miserably in your duty. the man who came as your deliverer is now, in the hour of battle, weakened by being compelled to send part of his army to suppress the disorder at which you have connived. you private citizens are scarcely less to blame: when you saw that these men were allowing brigandage and robbery to go on unchecked and making speeches subversive of order instead of doing their duty, you should have taken the matter into your own hands, expelled them from the offices they disgraced, and appointed worthier men as your representatives." he spoke to an officer standing by him, who went out and returned with twenty soldiers who had been drawn up outside the hall. bixio remained silent during his absence, and now said: "captain silvio, you will arrest the syndic and these municipal councillors, and march them off to prison. they may think themselves fortunate that i do not order them to be shot for conniving at sedition, and permitting these brigands to carry on their work of crime with impunity." the soldiers surrounded the men pointed out, and marched away with them. "now, sirs," bixio then went on to the private citizens, "you will at once placard the town with notices that the most worthy and loyal man in the town, whoever he may be, is nominated by me as syndic, and that twelve others, all of them loyal and true men, are appointed municipal councillors. i leave it to you to make the choice, but mind that it be a good one. of course i wish men of standing and influence to be appointed, but the one absolute qualification is that they shall be men who have shown themselves opposed to the conduct of those who will pass the next six months in prison; who can be trusted to maintain law and order with a strong hand, to punish malefactors, and to carry out all orders they may receive from general garibaldi, dictator of the island of sicily. let me have the names of the men you have chosen in the course of an hour. i shall have inquiries made as to the character and reputation of each before confirming their appointment. i have nothing more to say." the men retired, looking greatly crestfallen; and bixio, turning round, saw for the first time frank, who had quietly taken up his place behind him. the young fellow had been a great favourite of his ever since he saw him on the occasion of his first visit to garibaldi. "ah, percival, i am glad to see you, and that you should be here is a proof that your arm is getting stronger. i suppose you are here on duty?" "yes, sir; knowing that rumours of various kinds might reach you, the general has sent me to tell you that he has started with a portion of cosenz's men to reinforce medici, and to attack bosco at milazzo. he considers that he will have sufficient force for the purpose, but if not, he will, in a couple of days after he arrives there, be joined by the rest of cosenz's command, who are proceeding by land. after beating bosco, he will go on to messina. it will take him a considerable time to make all the preparations needful for the expedition to the mainland, and he wishes you to continue your work here, to put down all disorder, and to organise and establish strong and loyal municipal and district councils in this part of the island, so that when he advances, he need have no cause for any anxiety whatever for the state of affairs here. he will send you ample notice when all is in readiness for the invasion of calabria." "i should like to be at milazzo," bixio said, "but as that is now impossible i should prefer remaining here until garibaldi is ready to start, to hanging about messina for weeks: that sort of thing is very bad for young troops. here they get plenty of marching, and a certain amount of drill every day, and in another month or six weeks even the latest recruits, who arrived before we left palermo, will be fit to take part in a battle by the side of our veterans. are you to stay with me, or to go on to messina?" "i had no explicit order, sir, but from what the general said, i gathered that he thought it better for me to stay, at any rate for the present, with you. the doctor said that i must keep my arm in a sling for some time to come, and although i did not ride here at any great speed, i feel some sharp twinges in it, and think i should wait a few days before i mount again. after that i shall be happy to carry out any orders, or perform any duty, with which you may think fit to intrust me." "quite right, percival. you will, of course, be attached to my staff while you are with me, and i will set you to easy work when i consider you fit to undertake it. now that i have put things in train here, i shall make it my headquarters for a time, but shall be sending parties to the hills. i know that the villages there are all terrorised by the brigands, and although it is hopeless to try to stamp these fellows out, i may strike a few blows at them. the worst of it is, that half the peasantry are in alliance with them, and the other half know that it is as much as their lives are worth to give any information as to the brigands' movements, so that to a large extent i shall have to trust to luck. when you are able to ride again, i will send you off with one of these parties, for i am sure that the air of the slopes of etna will do an immense deal towards setting you up again, while the heat in the plains is very trying, especially to those who are not in robust health, and are unaccustomed to a climate like this." "it is hot," frank said. "i started my journeys very early in the morning, and stopped for five or six hours in the middle of the day; but i think that, even in that way, the heat has taken a good deal more out of me than the fatigue of riding." "i have no doubt that is so; and i should recommend you, for the next week, to rise at daybreak, lie down, or at any rate keep within doors, between ten or eleven and five in the afternoon, and then take gentle exercise again, and enjoy yourself until eleven or twelve o'clock at night. even the natives of the island keep indoors as far as possible during the heat of the day, at this time of year, and if they find it necessary, it is still more so for you. i suppose you came through traina last night?" "yes, sir; and was very glad to find rubini and my other two friends there." the next week passed pleasantly. bixio himself was often away, making flying visits to the towns and villages where he had left detachments; but as there were several of the officers of the force at bronte, who had crossed in the same ship with him from genoa, and by whose side he had fought at calatafimi and palermo, frank had very pleasant society. indeed, as the majority of the force were men of good family and education, there was, when off duty, little distinction of rank, and with the tie of good comradeship, and of dangers and fatigues borne in common, there was none of the stiffness and exclusiveness that necessarily prevail in regular armies. all of the original thousand knew frank well, had heard how largely the expedition was indebted for its success to the aid his mother had sent, and how he had distinguished himself in the fighting, and they welcomed him everywhere with the utmost cordiality. early in the morning he always went for a walk, and was usually accompanied by one or two of his acquaintances who happened to be off duty. after taking a meal, he generally spent the evening sitting in the open air in front of the principal _café_, eating ices, drinking coffee, and chatting with the officers who gathered there. at the end of a week he no longer felt even passing pains in his arm, and reported to bixio that he was ready for work again. "not hard work," the general said; "but i can give you employment that will suit you. i am calling in rubini's detachment from traina, where things are settling down, and shall send fifty men under his command to the village of latinano. it is some three thousand feet above the sea, and you will find it much more cool and pleasant there than it is here. other villages, on about the same line, will also be occupied. the brigands have found that it is no longer safe to come down into the plains, and i am going to push them as far up the slopes as i can: possibly we may then be able to obtain some information from the peasants below that line as to the principal haunts of these fellows in the mountains. at present these villages that i am going to occupy are all used by the brigands, whom the people regard as good customers; and though they ill-treat and murder without mercy any they suspect of being hostile to them, it is of course to their interest to keep well with the majority, and to pay for what they want. terror will do a good deal towards keeping men's mouths shut; but anything like the general ill-treatment of the population would soon drive somebody to betray them. "of course, hitherto the brigands have had little fear of treachery. the commanders of the bourbon troops had no disposition to enter upon toilsome expeditions, which offered small prospect of success, merely to avenge the wrongs of the peasants; but now matters have changed. we are not only willing, but eager, to suppress these bands; and, seeing that we are in earnest, some of the peasantry may pluck up heart enough to endeavour to get rid of those who at present hold them at their mercy. "however, i own i have no very great hopes that it will be so. there exists, and has existed for many years, an association called the mafia, which extends over the whole island. it comprises men of all classes, from the highest to the lowest, and exercises a terrible power. no one, save the leaders, know who are its members, and therefore each distrusts his neighbour. a murder is committed. every one may be perfectly well aware who is its author, and yet no one dare say a word. if by some chance the carabinieri, knowing the assassin had a standing feud with the victim, lay hands upon him, the organisation sets to work. the judge himself may be a member; if not, he speedily receives an intimation that his own life will be forfeited if the murderer is condemned. but it is seldom that this is necessary. the jailors are bribed or terrorised, and when the time comes for him to be brought to trial, it is found that he has mysteriously escaped; and, in the few cases where a man is brought into court, no witnesses dare appear against him, and he is certain to be acquitted. it is a scandalous state of things, and one which, we may hope, will be changed when italy is free, and able to attend to its domestic affairs. but at present the organisation is all-powerful, so that you see it is not only the vengeance of the brigands, but the power of the mafia, which seals men's mouths, and enables criminals to carry on their proceedings with but little fear of the arm of the law." "i am much obliged to you for sending me up with rubini," frank said; "and i shall greatly enjoy the mountain air, but i hardly see that i can be of much service there." "not much, perhaps; but it will fit you to do duty when we land in calabria. rubini's corps is, like the rest, composed partly of men who have seen service before, with a few of the thousand; but with them are a large proportion of fresh arrivals, as brave, no doubt, as the others, but without their experience. he will at times make excursions if he can obtain news of a party of brigands being in the neighbourhood, in which case he will naturally take the men he can most rely upon; and i shall request him when he is away to intrust the command of those left in the village to you, who are one of the thousand. you are a captain, as i heard with much pleasure in a letter from garibaldi, and on the general's staff; and as you showed how stoutly you could defend a house against an overwhelming force, you could certainly hold a village with fifteen or twenty men against any number of brigands who might try to take advantage of the absence of a portion of the force to attack those that remained there. however, it is not likely that anything of the sort will take place: the brigands are not fond of fighting unless there is ample booty to be obtained, though they might endeavour to avenge the losses they have sustained by a sudden attack, if they thought they could take you wholly unawares. rubini will arrive here with his corps to-morrow afternoon, and will start the next day with half his detachment; the other half will go to malfi, a village ten miles from latinano." "you are looking better," rubini said, as frank met him, when the company piled arms in the principal square in the town. "you said you were all right when i saw you the other day, but you were not looking so." "no; i was feeling the ride, and my arm was hurting me a bit. however, ten days' rest has set me all right again, and i am quite equal to moderate work. do you know what you are going to do?" "no, i have only orders to march in here to-day." "well, i can tell you. several detachments, of fifty men each, are going up to the villages some three thousand feet up the slopes of etna. your company is to be divided into two. you with half of them are to go to latinano, and the other half to malfi, a place ten miles from it. your lieutenant, pasco, will take the other wing to malfi. i am going with you." "well, in that case i shall not mind it, though it will not be lively there unless we have a brush with the brigands. it will at any rate be a great deal cooler than traina, which was an oven for six hours every day. are you going as second in command?" "to a certain extent, yes. bixio said that, as i should be no good for fighting at present, i was to take command of the village when you were away brigand-hunting. he said that naturally you would take your best men for that work, and leave some of those who have had as yet no experience in fighting to take care of the village." "well, they could not be left in better hands than yours," rubini said heartily. "i shall be very glad to have you with me." at daybreak the next morning rubini's little column got into motion. frank was the only mounted officer, and he took his place by the side of bixio, who marched at the head of the column. the rise was steady, and though occasionally they came to steeper places, there was no pause, with the exception of a couple of halts for a few minutes, and they reached latinano at eleven o'clock, having been nearly seven hours on the way. there was no demonstration of welcome when they arrived, nor did they expect it. doubtless such of the villagers as felt glad to see them march in would be afraid to show it openly, as they would assuredly suffer, were they to do so, when the troop marched away again. rubini at once quartered his men in twos and threes among the houses. he himself, with frank as his lieutenant, accepted the invitation of the priest, whose house was the best in the village, to stay there. "it is not like the palazzo at palermo, percival," rubini laughed; "but you can scarcely expect that on mount etna; at any rate, it is a vast improvement on our camping ground on the plains." the priest set before them what provisions he had in the house, and assured them that he would provide better for them in the future. rubini, however, knowing how poor were the priests of these mountain villages, told him that, although they thankfully accepted his hospitality on that occasion, they would in the future cater for themselves. "we have," he said, "two waggons following us; they will be up by the evening. we have no idea of imposing ourselves, or our men, upon the inhabitants of this village, who assuredly could hardly fill fifty additional mouths. we have brought with us flour, wine, and other necessaries, and no doubt we shall be able to purchase sheep and goats from your people, who, by the way, did not appear to be very much pleased at our arrival." "you must not blame them, signor. in the first place, they are poor; and once, when a detachment of bourbon troops came up here, they devoured everything, and paid for nothing: happily they only stayed for a week, or the village would have been ruined. after the tales that have been spread of the lawlessness of garibaldi's troops, they must have feared that even worse than what before happened was about to befall them." "they do nothing but tell lies of us," rubini said angrily. "never since we landed at marsala have we taken a mouthful of food without paying for it, unless it has been spontaneously offered to us, as it was when we were fighting at palermo." "i have no doubt that what you say is true, signor; but the poor people have been taught to believe otherwise, so they are hardly to blame if they did not evince any lively joy at your arrival. moreover, they do not know how long you are going to stay here, and are well aware that any who show satisfaction at your coming, or who afford you any aid or hospitality beyond that which they dare not refuse, will be reported to the brigands, who will take a terrible revenge after you have left the village." "i can understand that their position is not a comfortable one," rubini said; "but the people of these districts have largely brought it upon themselves. i do not say that they are in a position to resist large parties of brigands, but their sympathy seems to be everywhere with these scoundrels; they afford them every information in their power, screen them in every way, give false information to the carabinieri, and hinder the course of justice. people who act thus must not be surprised if they are regarded as allies of these bands, and they must put up with the inconvenience of having troops quartered upon them, and may think themselves fortunate that the consequences are no worse. at present we are not here to act against the brigands alone, as that work must be postponed until other matters are settled, and the government has time to turn its attention to rooting out a state of things that is disgraceful to the country. we are here now as the agents of general garibaldi, dictator of sicily, to suppress--not crime--but the stirring-up of insurrection and revolt against the existing government of the island." "i heartily wish that it could be rooted out," the priest said. "i can assure you that we, whose work lies in these mountain villages, feel the evil consequences to the full as much as those who work in the towns and villages lying round the foot of the mountains. it is not that our people suffer so greatly in pocket--for the most part they are too poor to be robbed; the few that are better off pay a yearly contribution, and as long as they do so are left in peace, while the better class down in the plains are liable at any time to be seized and compelled to pay perhaps their all to save their lives. the harm is rather to their souls than to their bodies; as you say, their sympathies are wholly with the brigands, they come to regard them as heroes, and to think lightly of the terrible crimes they commit upon others; and not infrequently some young man more enterprising than the rest, or one who has perhaps stabbed a rival in love or has been drawn for service in the army, takes to the hills and joins them, and for so doing he incurs no reprobation whatever. it is a sad state of things, and i trust that when your general has settled all other matters in the island he will employ his whole force in a campaign against the brigands. it is not a work to be taken up by small parties; the evil has grown to such dimensions that nothing short of an army would root it out, and indeed it could only then be accomplished by months of patient work, so extensive are the forests, so great the facility for concealment." "it will fall to other hands than garibaldi's, father. his mission is to deliver sicily and the mainland from the bourbon rule, and then to hand them over to victor emmanuel, who, a free king over a free nation, will be able to remove all these abuses that have flourished under the bourbons. as for us, we are soldiers without pay, fighting for love of our country. when we have done our work and freed it from its oppressors, we shall return to our homes, and leave it to the king, his parliament, and the regular army to put down such abuses as this brigandage. i suppose, father, it would hardly be fair to ask you if there are many of these fellows in the neighbourhood?" the priest smiled. "i do not mind telling you that there was a band of some fifty of them within five miles of this place yesterday. this morning it was known that several detachments of troops would march from bronte at daybreak, and that their destination was the mountains. i have no doubt whatever that the news was carried to the band half an hour later; and by this time they are probably twenty miles away up in the forests, but in which direction i have no idea, nor do i know what their plans are. it may be that so long as these villages are held they will move round to the other side of etna. it may be that several of the bands will unite and attack one or other of your parties, not for what they think they would get, but as a lesson that it would be better to leave them alone. i should say that, except by pure accident, you are not likely to catch sight of a brigand--unless, indeed, one comes down here as a shepherd from the hills, to make some small purchases, and to gather news." "i think that is likely to be the result of our journey," rubini laughed; "but, nevertheless, our being here will have served its purpose. so long as we and the other detachments are up here, the brigands will not care to venture into the plain; nor will the agents of the revolution who are with them. if they do, they are not likely to get safely back again. i may tell you that signals have been arranged by which smoke from the hill-tops near bronte will give us information that some of these bands have passed down the mountain, the direction in which they have gone, and that in which they are retiring; and i fancy they will hardly regain the mountains without being intercepted by one or other of our parties. it is true that we shall not remain here very long; but by the time we go, there will be a very different system established throughout the island; and they will find in future that they can no longer get friends and abettors among the local authorities, but will have to meet an active resistance, that plunder cannot be obtained without fighting, and that even when obtained it will not be carried off to the hills without a hot pursuit being maintained." "i shall be glad indeed if it is so," the priest said. "if the people of the towns and villages will but combine, and are actively supported by small bodies of troops in all the towns, it will deal a far heavier blow to brigandage than can be effected by sending flying expeditions into the mountains." chapter xi. a hazardous expedition. "i fancy, percival, that the brigands are far more likely to find us than we are to find them," rubini said on the following morning, when he and frank strolled out into the village. "we can expect no information from these people; and as to marching about on the off chance of lighting upon them, it would be simply absurd. on the other hand, the brigands will know, by this time, where all our detachments are quartered, and what is their strength. they must be furious at the losses they have had down in the plains; some forty or fifty of them have been killed in fights, and over a hundred shot, at bronte and other towns. they must be burning for vengeance. i cannot help thinking that some of these bands are likely to unite, and attack some of our posts. even if they came a couple of hundred strong, we might feel pretty safe of beating them off if they ventured by daylight; but a sudden attack at night might be extremely serious." "very serious indeed," frank agreed. "scattered as the men are, through the village, they would be shot down as they came out of the houses." "it is an awkward position, certainly," rubini said, "and one that i don't see my way out of." "i should say, rubini, the best thing we could do would be to quarter ourselves in the church." "it would be a very serious step," rubini said gravely. "we know that one of the great weapons the neapolitans have used against us is, that we are heretics and atheists; and were we to occupy the church, reports would circulate through the island that we were desecrators." "they spread that sort of reports, whether there is any foundation for it or not, rubini; besides, at palermo we used several of the churches as hospitals for the wounded. but there would be no occasion for us to live and take our meals in the church, or to interfere with the services. if we keep half a dozen sentries round the village, we need not fear any surprise during the daytime, but could go on as usual in the houses where we are quartered, taking our meals there, and so on; then at night we could retire to the church, and sleep there securely with a couple of sentries posted at the door." "i think that is a very good idea; at any rate, we will tell the priest when we go in to breakfast, and hear what he says. he is a good fellow, i think--though, of course, his hands are very much tied by the position he is placed in." after they had eaten their breakfast, rubini went with frank to the priest's room. "padre," he said, "we don't like our position here. it is certain that the brigands have no reason to love us, and that after the numbers who have been put out of the way down below, they must be thirsting for revenge." "that is certainly to be expected," the priest said gravely. "therefore we think it is by no means unlikely that several of these bands will unite in an attack on one of our posts." "i hinted as much as that to you last night." "you did, padre; and the more i think of it, the more probable it seems to me that this is what they will do. it may be this post, or another; but i feel that, although we could beat off any attack in the daytime, it would be most serious were they to fall upon us at night, when we are scattered throughout the village." "it would certainly be so, signor. the consequences would, i think, be most grave." "therefore, padre, we intend to retire to the church every evening." "between ourselves, captain rubini, i am not sorry that you have made that proposal, or rather, have announced to me your intention of doing so. you will understand that it was a suggestion that could not come from me, and that i bow to your decision, having no means of resisting it; that being understood, i can say, frankly, that i think the plan a wise one. i hope that you do not intend to occupy it during the day, nor to eat and drink there, but simply to pass the night in the shelter of its walls, and that at all other times our services can be held as usual?" "certainly; that is our intention. we wish to put the people to no inconvenience, and to abstain, as far as possible, from doing aught that would hurt their feelings, by, as they would consider it, desecrating the church. things will simply go on as they do now in the daytime, but at nightfall we shall march into the church, and place two sentries at the door; and in the morning we shall leave it, after placing everything in order, as far as we can, at a quarter to six--so that you can hold your morning mass at the usual hour." "i am well pleased with the arrangement. should my people or others complain of your thus using the church, i can say that it was no proposal of mine, and that you did not ask my opinion on the subject; but simply informed me of your intention, which, of course, i have no power to combat. i may tell you that i have no sure intelligence whatever that the brigands meditate such an attempt, either here or at other villages, where parties of your troops have gone; but knowing the people as i do, i think it very likely that such an attack may be made. i myself, a well-wisher of your general and of his great movement, am convinced that the people can never be raised from their present condition, so long as we are subject to the government of naples. i believe that, with freedom, the island would advance, not only in prosperity, but in orderly life and all the blessings of civilisation; and none will hail more heartily than i the establishment of a constitutional government, such as is enjoyed by that portion of italy under the rule of victor emmanuel. still, so long as things exist as they do in the mountains, it would do more harm than good, were i to declare my feelings. i speak not of personal danger, but i should lose all power and influence over my flock; therefore, though heartily wishing you well, i cannot openly aid you. i shall on sunday speak from the pulpit, pointing out that the conduct of your soldiers shows that the reports that have been circulated regarding them are untrue; that they come here with no evil intentions towards us, and that i trust when they retire they will carry with them the good wishes of all; that i hope above all things, nothing will occur that will cause trouble, still less evil to our guests, for not only have they given no occasion for animosity, but if any harm befall them here, we may be sure that their general at bronte will send up a strong body of troops, who will probably burn the village to the ground, and shoot every man they catch. i should say, signor, that my words would be more likely to have effect were some of your soldiers, and perhaps one of yourselves, to attend mass daily; this would show that you were not, as they have been told, despisers of all religion, and go far to remove the unfavourable impression with which i cannot deny that you are regarded." "the suggestion is a good one, sir," rubini said, "and i will see that it is carried out. i will come each morning. captain percival is an englishman, and what you would call a heretic, so he will, i know, undertake to be on duty about that hour. "then we quite understand each other, padre: openly you protest against our using the church, privately you approve of our doing so?" "my protest will not be a strong one," the priest said, with a smile; "indeed, i shall tell my people that, although i have thought it my duty to protest formally, i cannot but see that it is best that it should be so, as it will ensure peace and tranquillity in the village, and will do away with the risks of broils when men sit drinking after dark in wine-shops." when the church bell rang for the midday mass, the villagers were surprised to see rubini enter the edifice, and that some twenty of his men straggled in, not as a body ordered to take part in a service, but as if it was their regular custom as individuals to attend service. before the bell ceased ringing, frank also went in, and sat down by rubini; when they left together at the close of a short service rubini said, "i did not expect to see you, percival." "why not?" frank replied: "if there were a protestant church, of course i should go to it, but as there is not, i come here. surely it is better to say one's prayers in a church of a religion that on all its main points differs but slightly from our own, than to abstain from going to church at all. and now, what are we to do with ourselves? i suppose we can hardly start for a long walk?" "i should think not," rubini said grimly--"at least, not without taking twenty men with us. it is as likely as not that we are watched from the forest, and if we were to go out alone, we might be pounced upon by fellows lying in ambush for us, or at best get a bullet through our head." "at best?" frank laughed. "certainly at best," rubini replied gravely. "it would be better to die with a bullet through one's head than to fall into the hands of these vindictive scoundrels, who would certainly select some much slower and more painful way of putting an end to our existence. no, there must be no walking about beyond the edge of the village." "then, in fact, rubini, our journey up here is to be a mere useless promenade?" "i am afraid so. there is only one hope. it may be taken as a fact that in every band of scoundrels--whether they are robbers or conspirators or bandits--there are sure to be one or two discontented spirits, men who think that they ought to have been chosen as chiefs, that their advice has been slighted, or that their share of the plunder is insufficient; and should an opportunity occur, men like these are always ready to turn traitors, if they think that they can do so with safety. i do not suppose that the bands in these mountains are any exception; indeed, the chances of dissent are larger than usual, for we may be sure that both the brigands and these men who have been sent over from the mainland to foment discontent and create a counter-revolution in favour of a republic are greatly dissatisfied with the result of their joint undertaking. the prompt step garibaldi took in sending bixio's division here must have upset all their plans. the guerrillas, no doubt, have taken a considerable amount of booty; but this could have been done without the aid of the strangers. the latter counted on doing great things with the assistance of the brigands. they have failed altogether. a good many of both sections have been killed; and i should imagine, at the present time, that there is not much love lost between them. "it is therefore quite possible that some of these men are perfectly ready to betray the rest; and i regard it as on the cards that i may get a message to the effect that one of them will, if promised a pardon and a handsome reward, conduct us to the rendezvous where the band is gathered. in that case we should not return empty-handed. in some respects it is better that we should get at them that way than in any other; for the knowledge that one of their bands had been destroyed by treachery on the part of a member would cause a feeling of distrust and uneasiness in every gang in the mountains. every man would begin to suspect every other man of being a traitor; and although the fear of being either followed or killed, or of being denounced as a traitor and murdered, perhaps days, perhaps weeks, perhaps even months afterwards, but certainly some day or other, would keep the bands together, yet they would lose all heart in the business; quarrels would break out, desperate fights would take place, and many of their parties would finally break up; while the others would, for a considerable time at least, undertake no fresh enterprises." four days passed without incident. an hour after sunset the men marched to the church, the muskets were piled inside, and they were then permitted to sit on the steps outside smoking and talking until nine o'clock, when sentries were posted, and the men lay down inside. late on the following afternoon, as rubini with a sergeant was at the end of the village, a woman, standing half-hidden in some bushes a short distance away, motioned to him that she wanted to speak to him. "there might be half a dozen men hidden in that bush," rubini said. "let us turn off and go to that shed, and beckon to her to come to us. if we stand close to it, no one will see her speaking to us." the woman hesitated for some time, evidently afraid to leave the shelter of the bushes. then, making a sign to rubini that she would join them presently, she went back into the wood. in a short time she came out on the other side and walked a couple of hundred yards away; then she turned and made a wide circuit, keeping as much as possible in shelter, and at last joined them. she was a wild-looking creature: her hair was in disorder; her face bore signs of tears; her clothes were torn in several places, as if she had run recklessly through a thick wood. she might have cried as she came; but at present her flushed face, her fierce eyes, her tightly compressed lips, and her quick breathing, spoke of passion rather than grief. "what do you want with me?" rubini asked. [illustration: "in her excitement she fell on her knees"] "i have come to ask for vengeance," the woman panted. "prato has this afternoon shot my husband, and for what? merely because he said that if the band were not going to do anything, he would return home. that was all; and prato drew his pistol and shot him. my antonio! i cannot bring him to life again, but i can avenge him. signor, the band of prato, the most merciless and most famous of our chiefs, lies but five miles away; i will lead you to the place, but you must swear to me that you will show him no mercy. if you take him prisoner, he will escape: no judge in the island dare convict him, no jailor would dare keep his door shut. i must have his life-blood; unless you will swear this i will not take you to him. as for the others, i care not, but i should like them all to be killed, for they laughed when prato shot my antonio like a dog; but i bargain not for them. do as you will with them, but prato must die. i ask no reward--i would not touch blood money; i ask only for vengeance," and in her excitement she fell on her knees, and waving her arms above her head, poured down a string of maledictions upon the brigand chief. "i can promise you that he shall not be taken prisoner," rubini said. "the villain has committed a score of murders; but he might escape." "he will fight to the last," the woman said; "he is a devil, but he is no coward. but he would find it difficult to escape. his fires are lit at the foot of a crag, and if you approach him on both sides and in front, he must fight." "how many men has he?" "thirty-seven, counting himself, signor; but you will take them by surprise, and can shoot down many before they can fire a shot." "what do you think, zippo?" rubini asked, drawing his comrade two or three paces aside. "the man is one of the most notorious brigands in the mountains. there has been a big reward offered for him, dead or alive, for years past; it would be a grand service if we could destroy him and his band, and we should earn the gratitude of all the towns and villages below there." "yes, it would be a grand exploit," the sergeant said eagerly, "for us to accomplish what the neapolitan troops and carabinieri have so long failed to do. per baccho, 'tis a glorious stroke of luck." "that is what i think," rubini said. then he went to the woman. "we are ready to aid you to avenge your husband," he said. "you know your way through the forest in the dark?" "i know it well. prato's band has been in this neighbourhood for months past, and i have been in here scores of times to buy provisions. there are two or three paths by which you might go, and i know all of them; if you like you can carry a lantern until you are within half a mile of them. the forest goes well-nigh up to the cliff." "i will not start till nine o'clock," rubini said. "at that time my men withdraw into the church; but we can move out by the door of the vestry behind, and no one in the village will dream that any of us have left the place. will you be at that door five minutes after the clock strikes?" "i will be there," the woman said fiercely, turning and shaking her fist in the direction from which she had come. as frank was strolling up the street he met the two friends, for zippo was a cousin of the captain. "i have some very important news to give you, percival," rubini said, as they met him; "but i won't tell you here, for the people loitering about might notice that i was talking seriously, and suspect that something out of the way had occurred. let us walk down quietly to the other end of the village, and out of earshot of any of the houses; until we get there let us chat of other matters. your arm still goes on well?" "it could not be better. five or six days of this mountain air has done me no end of good. i have not felt a single twinge in my arm, and i believe i could use it for all ordinary purposes now with perfect safety." "that is a pretty little child, isn't she, if her face were but clean? i should doubt if it has ever been really washed. i should certainly say that her hair has never been combed. there: the little beggar knows we are speaking of her. did you see how she scowled? she has evidently picked up the popular sentiment concerning us." when fairly beyond the village rubini told his story. "it will be splendid," he said. "why, the capture of prato would cause almost as much sensation in sicily as the taking of palermo!" "yes, it would be a grand thing," frank agreed; "but are you quite sure, rubini, that her story is a true one, and not a feint to draw you into an ambush?" "i am perfectly convinced of the woman's earnestness, percival, and so would you have been had you seen her. do you not agree with me, zippo?" "certainly. i have not the slightest doubt in my mind as to the fact that she was speaking the truth." "well, if you are both perfectly satisfied," frank said, "there can be no doubt that it would be a great service to destroy this fellow's band. how many men do you propose to take with you?" "i should certainly take as strong a force as possible. these brigands are desperate fellows when cornered." "well, there would be no occasion to leave many men with me," frank said; "as you would no doubt get away unnoticed, it would be supposed that the whole force is as usual in the church. if you leave me five good men i shall be quite satisfied, and when you have gone we will barricade the doors, and could hold out stoutly for a long time. there is very little woodwork about the place, and if we were driven into the belfry they could not burn us out. however, it might be a wise precaution if you were to tell three or four of your men to buy a couple of loaves apiece and a skin of wine; as it will be dusk before they go as usual to the church steps, they could bring these with them without being noticed." "i will do as you suggest, percival, but i really think that you are carrying precaution beyond what is necessary." "it will not be an expensive precaution," frank replied, with a smile. "then you think five men would be sufficient?" rubini asked. "so far as i am concerned, i do not see why you should not take them all. i was ordered to assume the command of any men left here, but that did not imply that your force was always to be broken up; certainly i am willing to remain here by myself. i would infinitely rather go with you, but a night march through a dark forest would be more serious for me than going into a pitched battle, for if i were to trip and fall, i should certainly smash my arm again. i do not see why you should leave any here: five men or even ten would be of no great use, and for a business like yours every musket may be of advantage. i shall certainly feel very anxious about you while you are away. i can quite believe that, as you say, the woman was perfectly in earnest; but when she was missed from that camp, after the murder of her husband, the suspicion that she had come here to tell us where they were encamped might very well occur to them, and you might find them vigilant and prepared for you." "that may be so," rubini agreed. "well, then, as the villagers here will not know that we have left until we are back again, i think i will take forty-five men and leave you with five. you shall pick the men." "i should like to have sarto and maffio, if you can spare them; as to the other three i leave it to you entirely." "yes; you can have those two. they are both thoroughly good men, as well as good fellows; as for the others, i will pick you out three of the best of those who last joined us. i should like as many of the old hands with me as possible, for i know that they will keep their heads, whatever happens." it was not until the men were all gathered round the church door, as usual, that rubini told them of the expedition on which they were about to start. the news excited general satisfaction. there had been little doing since palermo was taken, and the old hands were all eager for the fray, while those who had more recently joined burned to show that they were worthy to be comrades of garibaldi's first followers. at nine o'clock all came into the church as usual, and ten minutes later the detachment, with the exception of frank's little command, moved silently out through the vestry door. "so we are to stay behind with you?" sarto said, as he and maffio joined frank, who had taken a seat and was thinking over the course that should be pursued if rubini's enterprise turned out badly. "rubini said that you specially asked for us, which was no doubt a compliment, but one which, if you don't mind our saying so, we would gladly have dispensed with. it will be a nuisance indeed watching here all night, while the others are engaged in a business quite after our own heart." "i was sure that you would feel rather annoyed," frank said; "but i should not have liked to be here without at least two men on whom i know i can rely to the last." "but what can there be for us to do?" sarto asked, in some surprise at the tone in which frank spoke. "i don't know; that is just what i don't know, sarto. i acknowledge that i by no means like this expedition. rubini and zippo are both certain that this woman is acting in perfect good faith. i did not see her, and therefore i can only take their opinion, but she may have been only acting. you know how passionate these women are; and it seems to me possible that, thinking what she would have done had her husband been shot by prato, she might have worked herself up into such a state that no one could doubt the reality of her story. of course, i do not say that it was so--i only say that it was possible. in the next place, even if her story is perfectly true, she may have been seen to leave the camp, or, if she passed out unobserved by any of them, her absence would be noticed, and she might be followed and her interview with rubini observed; and in that case the band may either have moved away when they got the news, or, what is more likely, be prepared to attack rubini's column on its way. i mentioned the possibility to rubini that the woman's absence might have been noticed and the band be uneasy in consequence, and on the look-out; and although it in no way shook his determination to take advantage of her offer, he would, i am sure, take every precaution in his power. still, there is no saying how things will turn out. it may be that, if the brigands anticipate an attack, they may by this time have sent to another party to tell them that the greater part of our detachment will be away, and invite them to come and finish with the men left here, while they themselves tackle those who have gone out against them." "it certainly looks possible in the way you put it," maffio said, "though i hope it may not turn out so. however, i see that we shall, at any rate, have something to think about while they are away. so that is what that bread and wine you brought in was for? rubini asked us, and two others, to bring in a couple of loaves each, and the other to bring in a skin of wine; of course, we thought that it was for the use of the expedition." "i asked him to do so, maffio. he rather laughed at the idea, but it seemed to me possible that they might be of use here while he was away; and at any rate i will guarantee that the food shall not be wasted." "six of us, including yourself, could not hold this church long?" "not against a great effort. but even if they should take advantage of the absence of part of our force to attack us, they would not know how strong a party had been left behind, and would be cautious for a bit; but i do not suppose that we should be able to resist a determined onslaught. i thought that we might take to the tower: we could hold that for hours." "yes; we could do that," sarto said confidently. "well, i don't at all suppose that we are going to be disturbed, but it is a satisfaction to feel that we are not altogether out of the affair." as usual, a dozen candles had been lighted in different parts of the church as soon as it was dark. the three genoese, who had joined the company after the capture of palermo, looked sulky and downcast at being left behind, and frank called to them. "i have no doubt that you are disappointed, gentlemen," he said; "but you should really take it as a compliment. i asked captain rubini to leave me, in addition to my two friends here, the three best men he could pick out from those who had not formed part of the original force, and i have no doubt that he has done so. i may tell you that i consider it possible, i do not say probable, that we may be attacked, and we will first see what steps should be taken in that case. i have not been up to the tower: have any of you?" none of them had mounted there. "then let us investigate," he said. the campanile stood at the north-west corner of the church; it had an exterior door, and another opening into the church. taking a couple of candles, they entered by the latter, and mounted a stone staircase leading to the lower story of the tower; beyond this a wooden staircase led to the rough wooden floor under the bells, and another to the flat terrace above. "the first thing to do," frank said, "is to block up the outside door; at any rate, let us have a look at it." it was roughly made, but very strong. "the door is well enough, but i doubt whether this lock would not give under heavy blows." "we might pile chairs behind it," sarto suggested. "i would rather not do that, if we can help it," frank replied. "they may burn the door down, and the less combustibles there are the better; however, if we can find nothing else, we must use them." nothing could be found, and frank then said, "i think that we can manage with one chair." the others looked puzzled. "we will cut up the legs and back into six-inch pieces, sharpen them into wedges, and drive them in all round the door: i think that would withstand any battering until the door itself splintered." they all fell to work at once, and in a quarter of an hour a score of wedges were driven in. "now we will do the same at the bottom of the church door itself, and put in a few as high as we can reach on each side; that will detain them some time before it yields." when this was done, sarto said, "what next, percival?" "the only other thing to be done in the way of defence is to carry all the chairs upstairs to the first story of the tower, to make a barricade there," maffio remarked. "yes, we might make a barricade of them half way up the stairs, but my main object is to get rid of them here. if they found they could not storm the stairs, they might pile all the chairs in the middle of the church and set them on fire--they are the only things that will burn; and although the flames would scarcely mount to the roof, sparks would fly up, and as there is sure to be a lot of dust and soot on the beams there, which might catch fire, we should be burnt out." "well, at any rate there will be no great trouble in doing that," sarto said; "though i should hardly think that they would attempt to burn the church down. the brigands have no respect for life, but they are not without their superstitions, and might be afraid to burn a church, though they would cut half a dozen throats without a scruple." "yes; but a portion of the band are no doubt composed of revolutionists from the mainland--fellows who have no scruples of any sort, and who, as the men of the same kind did in paris seventy years ago, would desecrate a church in every conceivable manner, for, as a rule, they hate religion as they hate authority." the chairs were accordingly carried up and stowed on the wooden floor beneath the bells. "now," frank said, "i should like to see how this ladder is fastened, and if we can move it." this, however, they found would be well-nigh impossible. it was over thirty feet from the stone floor to the next story, while that in which the bells hung was but some twenty feet. the ladder was very solid and heavy, and as only two could get at it from above, it could not be lifted up that way. "we can manage it," frank said, after thinking for a minute. "we can pull the bell ropes up through their holes, and fasten them somewhere above the middle of the ladder; then, with three of us pulling on each, we could certainly raise it without much difficulty. we should not have to pull it very high--six feet would be ample. if they want to smoke us out, they must bring wood from outside, which will not be easy to do under our fire. now we will leave one on watch above. he shall be relieved every hour. do you take the first watch, pedro. if you hear any stir in the village below, come down and tell us at once; but, above all, listen for distant firing. it is five miles to the spot where the bandits are, but on a still night like this it would certainly be heard here." he and the other four men then descended to the first floor. here those who were to take the next turn of duty said, "if you do not want us further, captain, we will sit here and light our pipes, if you have no objection." "no objection at all. i don't think that i should like to smoke myself in the church below, but that is a matter of opinion; but certainly no one could object to its being done in this detached tower." then, with sarto and maffio, he went down into the church. chapter xii. an ambuscade. "the others will have the laugh at us when they come back," sarto said. "that will in no way trouble me," frank said. "it has given us a couple of hours' work, and it has passed the time away. if all has gone well, we shall hear the firing very soon; we may be sure that they won't be able to go fast through the wood, especially as they will have to be careful not to make any noise. of course, it is all up hill too, and will be as dark as pitch under the trees; they will have almost to crawl along the last mile. i should not be surprised if it were another hour before they are in position to attack. and now that we are prepared to repel any attack upon us, and to hold out, if necessary, for three days or even more on the provisions we have got, we ought to consider another alternative." "what other alternative can there be?" maffio asked. "let us suppose--and it is as well to suppose the worst--that rubini falls into an ambush. it makes no difference whether the woman leads him into one, or whether she has been trapped and the ambush laid without her knowledge. suppose that they are ambushed and that none of them get back here?" an exclamation broke from the others. "i said that we will suppose the worst," frank went on. "this man prato, who is an old hand at such matters, would not improbably, if he expected that rubini would come to attack him, have at once sent off to another band, or to men who sometimes act with him, and instead of their meeting thirty-eight men, they may meet sixty. in that case we might calculate that a third of rubini's force would fall at the first volley; there they would be in the forest, without a guide, in the dark, surrounded by twice their number of men well acquainted with the place, and accustomed to traversing it at night. now i ask you frankly, do you think that many of them, or, indeed, any of them, would be likely to get back here? they might not all be killed; some might hide in the woods, and make their way down the mountain to-morrow, but the chance of any of them returning here seems to me to be small indeed, if things turn out as i have been saying." "but you don't think, you can't think, percival----" sarto said, in a tone of horror. "i don't say that i think so, sarto. i only say that it seems to me to be possible; and, situated as we are, it is always as well to see what, if even the most unlikely thing takes place, could be done. let us suppose that the detachment has been cut to pieces: what is our look-out here? we can defend the place, or rather we can defend ourselves, for three or four days; but what would be the benefit of that? if the news got down to bronte, it would be necessary to send two or three companies up here to rescue us. if, as is very probable, no news got down there, we should have to surrender; and we know what that would mean, especially as, assuredly, we should have killed a good many of the brigands in the course of the fighting. thus, then, nothing would be gained by our resistance. i was appointed to command that portion of troops left here, in case of rubini going away in pursuit of brigands with the rest. i do not suppose that it was ever contemplated that only five men would be left behind, still that does not alter the case. the idea was, that the village might be attacked during the absence of part of the force, and that those here should maintain themselves until rubini returned. but in the event of such a disaster as we are supposing, so far from there being any advantage in holding this church, it would be a serious disadvantage; for we should risk our lives without any point whatever in our doing so." "that is certainly true; but in that case, why should we have made these preparations for defence?" "simply because we hope, and have every reason to hope, that rubini will return, and we are prepared to hold out until he does so. but, once assured that the detachment will not come back, the whole matter is changed." "but how are we to be assured?" "ah! that is a very difficult question to answer. as long as there is the slightest possibility of any part, however small, of the detachment returning, we are bound to hold on here. but, when can we feel certain that this will not be the case, our duty would be to consult our own safety by retreating if possible to bronte." at this moment the sentry on the campanile ran in. "i heard a sudden outburst of firing, captain percival, and it is continuing." followed by all the others, frank ran up to the top of the tower. there was no doubt that a tough fight was going on: the reports of the muskets came in quick succession; sometimes there would be a short pause, and then half a dozen shots would ring out close together. for three or four minutes not a word was spoken; then, as the reports became less frequent, sarto exclaimed, "it is nearly over: rubini has done his work." frank was silent, and sarto added, "do you not think so, percival?" "i hope so," frank replied, "but i am very much afraid that it is not so. had rubini taken the brigands completely by surprise, there would have been one crashing volley, then he would have rushed in with the bayonet, and it would have been all over in two minutes. some of the brigands might have escaped, but there can have been no pursuit, for in the darkness in the forest there would have been no chance whatever of overtaking men perfectly familiar with it. no, i think that they have failed in taking them by surprise, and if they did fail to do so, the brigands would either have moved off, in which case there would have been no fight at all, or have laid an ambush for our party, which would account for the heavy firing we have heard. whether the ambush was successful, or whether rubini has beaten his assailants off, is uncertain." the others saw the justness of his reasoning, and remained silent. an occasional shot was still heard. "what do you think that means?" maffio asked--for both he and sarto were beginning to feel a profound respect for the opinion of their companion. "it means, of course, that one party or the other is pursuing fugitives, and i am afraid that it is a bad sign, for, as i have just said, our men would hardly try and chase these brigands through the wood they know very well." they waited another five minutes. still shots were occasionally heard. the conviction that frank's worst anticipations had been but too surely verified, forced itself upon the others. "will you stay here a short time longer?" frank said to the others; "i will go down into the church. i should like to think over quietly what we had best do." he walked up and down the church. it was a tremendous responsibility for a lad not yet seventeen to bear. some of rubini's party had escaped, and might be making their way back in hopes of finding shelter and safety. what would be their feelings if they arrived and found the party gone? on the other hand, defend themselves as well as they might, six men must finally succumb before a determined attack by a large party of ruffians exulting over their victory and thirsting for complete vengeance. but by the time his companions returned from above he had made up his mind as to the plan that had best be adopted. "we will take a middle course," he said. "we will leave the church, and conceal ourselves within a short distance of the door into the vestry. one of us must hide close to it, so that if any of our comrades come up and knock at the door for admission, he can bring them to us. we can then learn what has happened. if even eight or ten have escaped, we will return to the church and hold it; if only one or two, we will, when the brigands arrive and there is no chance of others coming, start for bronte." "that is a capital plan," sarto exclaimed; and a murmur from the others showed that they too warmly approved. "there is no hurry," frank went on. "we will eat a good meal before we start, then there will be no occasion to burden ourselves with provisions. before leaving, we will light fresh candles: there are four or five pounds in the vestry. we will leave four alight in each floor of the tower, and the rest in different parts of the church, so that, when the brigands do arrive, they will think that we are watchful and well prepared for them. it is not likely they will know exactly what strength rubini had with him, but will think that we have at least ten or twelve men with us, and will be sure to hesitate a little before they make an attack. they will take some little time to burst in the great doors; and even the door of the vestry is strong enough to bear a good deal of battering before they break that in, so that we shall get a good long start of them. of course they may pursue, but we can keep on the road for the first half-mile, and then turn off and make our way through the forest. we can't go very far wrong, as it is always a descent; besides, for aught they will know, we may have been gone a couple of hours before they get here. i think in that way we shall have done our duty to our comrades, and at the same time secured our own safety, for we have no right to throw away our lives when we can still do some work for italy." "it could not be better," maffio said. "in that way we shall have the consolation of knowing that none of our friends, who have been wounded, have dragged themselves here after we had left only to find that they were deserted; while on the other hand it does away with the necessity of our throwing away our lives altogether uselessly. i revert to my former idea, percival. if ever i have sons, i will send them to one of your great schools in england. it is clear that the life there and your rough games make men of you." they first sat down and ate a hearty meal of bread and wine, and then fresh candles were lighted and placed as frank had directed. then they left the church, locking the vestry door behind them. sarto lay down behind a tombstone ten yards from the door, and the others took their places behind the low wall that ran round the church-yard. after waiting an hour frank returned to sarto. "i am going," he said, "to conceal myself at the end of the village, close enough to the road to hear anything that is said by people coming along. if, as i hope, they may be some of our men, i will join them and bring them on here, if not i will make my way here at once, and will give a low whistle. directly you hear me, retire and join us. it will give us a few minutes' extra time, for you may be sure that when they see the church lighted up, those who first arrive will wait for the rest before running the risk of a shot from the tower. when all are gathered no doubt there will be a good deal of talk as to how they had best attack it." leaving sarto, frank made his way through the gardens until he arrived at the end of the village, and then sat down behind a low wall, close to the road. in half an hour he heard footsteps, and judged that six or eight men were coming from the forest. "there is no doubt they are on the watch there," one of them said; "the windows in the tower are lit up,--we shall have some work to do before we finish with them. they fought bravely--i will say that for them; and although half their number fell at our first volley, they killed eight or ten of our men, and wounded as many more, before, when there were only about half a dozen of them left, they broke through us and ran. it was lucky that phillipo's band arrived in time, for notwithstanding the surprise, i doubt whether we should have beaten them, had we been alone. it was a good thought of prato to send young vico to follow that woman, and that he saw her talking to the officer." frank could hear no more, but rising quietly, he retraced his steps at a run, and as soon as he joined his companions gave a low whistle, which in a minute brought sarto to his side. "it is as i feared," he said: "they laid an ambush for rubini, and shot down half his men at once; the rest kept together and fought till all but six or seven were killed, and these burst through them and took to flight; and i am afraid that those shots we heard told that some even of these were overtaken and killed. now let us be going; there were only about eight men in the party who first came along, and we may be sure that nothing will be attempted until the rest arrive. the men had noticed our lights in the tower, and evidently expected that we should sell our lives dearly; at any rate, we can calculate upon at least half an hour before they break into the church and find that we have left." they were obliged to go cautiously before they gained the road beyond the village, and then they broke into a trot. "half an hour will mean something like four miles," frank said; "and as it is not likely that they can run much faster than we are going, we may safely calculate that they will not overtake us for over an hour after they do start, and by that time we shall be well within five miles of bronte. indeed, with the slope in our favour, i am not sure that we may not calculate upon reaching the town itself; they certainly ought not to be able to run fifteen miles while we are running eleven." "if they do we should deserve to be caught," maffio said; "but i should think that they would not follow us far, as, for anything they can tell, we may have left the church a couple of hours ago." there were few words spoken as they ran steadily along. the thought of the slaughter of so many of their friends oppressed them all, and the fact that they had personally escaped was, at present, a small consolation. frank had not been long enough with the company to make the acquaintance of many of the men, but he felt the loss of rubini extremely. at genoa, during the voyage, and on the march to palermo, they had been constantly together, and the older man had treated him with as much cordiality and kindness as if he had been a young brother. frank regretted now that he had not even more strongly urged his doubts as to the expediency of the expedition, though he felt that, even had he done so, his remonstrances would have been unavailing, so convinced were rubini and zippo of the sincerity and good faith of the woman. as it seemed, in this respect they had been right, and he had not pressed more strongly upon them the probability of her being followed when she left the brigands after the murder of her husband. it was so natural a thing that this should be so, that he wondered it had not struck him at once. had he urged the point, rubini might have listened to him, and his fatal expedition might not have taken place. it seemed to him a heartbreaking affair, and as he ran he wiped away more than one tear that ran down his cheeks. after keeping on at the same speed for three or four miles, frank heard, by the hard breathing of his companions, that their powers were failing; he himself was running quite easily, his school training being of good service to him, and after the long runs at hare and hounds across country, four miles down hill was a trifle to him. he had, too, the advantage of not having to carry a musket and ammunition. "we had better walk for a few hundred yards and get our breath again," he said. and the order was thankfully obeyed. "are you ready to trot on?" he asked, five minutes later; and on a general assent being given, they again broke into a run. the more he thought of it, the more persuaded frank was that no pursuit would be set on foot. doubtless, the first step of the brigands would be to surround the church, and to place strong parties at both doors; they would therefore know that the church must have been deserted for at least half an hour before they obtained an entry, while possibly it might have been two or three hours before; so on finding the place empty their impulse would be to go to the wine-shops and celebrate their victory, rather than to start upon a pursuit which offered small prospects indeed of success. every few minutes they halted for a moment to listen for the sound of pursuing feet, but everything was still and quiet; and so confident did they become as to their safety, that the last three or four miles down into bronte were performed at a walk. "i must go and report to bixio," frank said, as they entered the town. "you had better find a shelter somewhere." "there is no occasion for that," maffio replied. "the sky has been getting lighter for some little time, and it must be nearly five o'clock. it was past two when we started." "i will wait for another half-hour," frank said, "before i rouse bixio; he is always out by six, and bad news will keep." shortly before that hour he went to the general's quarters. the house was already astir. "the general will be down in a few minutes, captain," an orderly said. "i called him a quarter of an hour ago." in two or three minutes bixio came down. "have you any news?" he asked hastily, when he saw frank, whose downcast face struck him at once. "yes, general; and very bad news." "come in here," bixio said, opening the door of a sitting-room. "now, what is it?" "i grieve to have to report, sir, that i have arrived here with only sarto, maffio, and three other men of the detachment, and that i fear captain rubini and the whole of the rest of the men have been killed." bixio started. "all killed!" he repeated, almost incredulously. "i trust that you are mistaken. what has happened?" frank briefly related the circumstances. "this is sad indeed--terrible," the general said, when he had brought his story to a conclusion. "rubini's loss is a grievous one; he was a good officer, and was greatly liked and trusted by us all; there were good men, too, among his company. he had fifteen men of the thousand among them. and you say this woman did not betray them?" "no; the men i overheard, distinctly said that she was a traitress, and as soon as she was missed by them she was followed, and her meeting with the officer observed." "but what took you out beyond the village, captain percival? you have told me the main facts of this most unfortunate expedition: please give me the full details of what you did after they had left, and how you came to escape." "i felt uneasy from the first," frank said. "directly rubini told me about the woman, i suggested that she might be merely acting a part, in order to lead them into an ambuscade; but both rubini and zippo, who was with him when he met her, were absolutely convinced of her good faith. "i also suggested that, even if they were right, the woman might possibly have been followed. her disappearance after the murder of her husband would be almost certain to excite suspicion that she intended to avenge herself by bringing our detachment down upon them. i communicated this suspicion to sarto and maffio, and we at once set to work to make the church defensible." he then related in detail the measures they had taken, and how he became convinced, by the sound of the distant conflict, that rubini and his party had fallen into the ambuscade and been destroyed. "for some time i could not make up my mind what course to adopt, sir: we might have defended the tower for two or three days; but it was by no means certain--in fact, it was very improbable--that anything of what was going on would reach your ears. on the other hand, i could not withdraw my little party, as, even if my worst suspicions were correct, some of rubini's men might have escaped and might make their way back to the church." he then proceeded to explain the plan he had adopted, and how it had been carried out. "i do not know whether i have acted rightly," he concluded. "it was a terrible responsibility, but i can only say that i consulted with sarto and maffio, who have had far more experience than i, and that they both approved of my plan. i hope, general, you do not think that i was wrong." "certainly not--certainly not. your position was a most difficult one, and your preparations for defence were excellent; the alternatives that you had to choose between when you became convinced that rubini had been defeated were equally painful. if you stayed and defended the place, i may almost say you would have thrown away the lives of yourself and the five men with you. if you went, any wounded men straggling back from the forest would have found neither friends nor refuge. the middle course you adopted was admirable. you would at once have saved any poor fellows who might arrive, while you ensured the safety of your little party. by illuminating the church you secured for yourself a long start; and by going out so as to overhear the conversation of the first party of brigands who entered the village, you were able to assure yourself that it was useless staying longer in hopes of any survivors of the expedition coming in. "i have received a message from garibaldi, ordering me to move to taormina, on the sea-coast. he has defeated bosco at milazzo; and the neapolitan general and his troops have been permitted to take ship for naples. he said that if i had not concluded my work here i could remain for another week, as it would probably be a considerable time before the preparations made for invading calabria were completed. i was intending to send off some messengers this morning to recall all the outlying detachments. that i shall do still; but i shall certainly remain here three or four days longer, in the hope that some of rubini's party may have escaped. if i thought there was the smallest chance of laying hands on this scoundrel prato and his band, i would march with a couple of hundred men into the mountains. but we may be sure that he did not stop more than an hour or two at the village, after he learned that your party had escaped; and by to-morrow morning they may be fifty miles away, on the other side of etna. however, as soon as our affair is over, i shall urge upon garibaldi the necessity for sending a strong force into the mountains to put down brigandage, and especially to destroy prato's band." the disaster that had befallen rubini's column cast a great gloom over the brigade: not a man but would gladly have undergone any amount of fatigue to avenge his comrades; but all felt the impossibility of searching the great tract of forest which extended over the larger part of the slopes of etna. bixio however, determined to send off a strong party to find and bury the dead, and two hours later a detachment a hundred strong left bronte. their orders were to attack the brigands if they found them in the village; if they had left, however, they were not to pursue. they were to sleep there, and in the morning to compel two or three of the villagers to guide them to the scene of conflict, where they were to find and bury the dead. every precaution was to be observed, although it was regarded as certain that the brigands would not have remained so near the village, but would only stop there a few hours, and then place as great a distance as possible between it and them. frank had offered to accompany the party, but bixio refused to allow him to do so. "you have had a sleepless night, and the anxiety you have suffered is quite sufficient excitement for a convalescent. you could do no good by going there, and had best lie down and take a few hours' sleep." before the party started frank asked the captain in command to see if his horse had been carried off. "it was in a shed adjoining the priest's house," he said; "and it may still be there. the brigands would not be likely to make many inquiries; and when they discovered that we had gone, probably made off directly they had eaten their supper; for had we, as might have been the case so far as they knew, started for bronte soon after rubini left, it would have been possible for reinforcements to reach the village within an hour of daybreak. even if one of the villagers told them that the horse was there--which is not likely, for the whole place must have been in a ferment at the news--the brigands may not have cared to carry it off, as it would be useless to them in a journey over ground covered with forest and broken up by ravines and gorges." the detachment returned two days later, bringing with it, to frank's satisfaction, his horse and saddlery. they had been to the scene of the conflict, and had found and buried all the bodies with the exception of a few, who must either have escaped or have been killed at a considerable distance from the spot where they were attacked. the brigands had, as frank had expected, left the village before daybreak. they had on arriving opened fire at the windows of the church; and a quarter of an hour later, finding that no reply was made, had endeavoured to force an entry. the great door, however, had defied their efforts, and when at last they obtained access by breaking in the door of the vestry, more than an hour had been wasted. the discovery that the church was untenanted had greatly disappointed and disquieted them, and after carousing for a short time they hastily left. early on the day after the return of frank and his comrades, one of the missing party reached the town: he was utterly worn out and broken down, having apparently wandered for thirty-six hours in the forest in a state of semi-delirium. he had at last quite accidentally stumbled upon a small village, and after being fed and cared for, had been brought down to bronte in a cart. he was, he said, convinced that he was the only survivor of the fight. the party had arrived within, as they believed, a quarter of a mile of the brigands' lurking-place, when a whistle was heard, and from the trees on both sides of the narrow path a volley was fired, and half at least of the party dropped. rubini, he believed, was among those who fell; at least he did not hear his voice afterwards. zippo had rallied the men, who, gathering together, endeavoured to fight their way through their assailants. what the effect of their fire was, he could not tell, but his comrades dropped fast, and when there were but a few left, they threw down their muskets and rushed headlong into the forest. they scattered in various directions, but were hotly pursued; several shots were fired at him, but they all missed. after running for half an hour he flung himself down in a clump of undergrowth. he had heard, as he ran, other shots, and had no doubt that his companions were all killed. he lay where he was until morning, and then tried to find his way down to bronte, but he had no distinct recollection of what had happened after he left the bushes, until he found that wine was being poured down his throat, and that he was surrounded by a group of pitying women. the fury of the garibaldians, on their arrival from the various villages at which they had been posted, when they heard of the slaughter of their friends, was extreme; and many of the officers begged the general to allow them to make one effort to find and punish the brigands, but bixio refused. "we have a far greater business on our hands," he said. "italy has to be freed. the first blow has been struck, and must be followed up at once; brigandage can wait--it is an old sore, a disgrace to a civilised country; but italy once freed, this can be taken in hand. we might spend weeks, or even months, before we could lay hands on prato's band; the villagers and woodmen would keep them informed of every movement we made, while not only should we gain no information, but all would be interested in putting us upon the wrong track. it is not to be thought of. moreover, i have garibaldi's orders to march to taormina, and if we had lost five hundred men instead of fifty, i should obey that order, much as i should regret being obliged to march away and leave the massacre unavenged." the day after the fugitive had arrived, the force left bronte. the mountainous nature of the country to the north prevented a direct march towards taormina. they therefore took the road round the foot of etna, through bandazza to gairre, which lay nearly due east of bronte, and then followed the line along the coast to taormina. here the troops were halted, while bixio, with frank and a small escort, rode on to messina, as the general wished to confer with garibaldi, and to ascertain how the preparations for the invasion of calabria were proceeding. chapter xiii. across the straits. garibaldi had, on entering messina, been received with tremendous enthusiasm, and at once, while waiting for the reinforcements now pouring in, set himself to work to improve the condition of affairs in the town. he had taken up his abode in the royal palace, where he retained all the servants of the former viceroy, considering that it would be unjust to dismiss them. he ordered, however, that his own dinner was to consist only of some soup, a plate of meat, and some vegetables. the large subscriptions that flowed in from italy and other countries were entirely devoted to public service, as had been the money taken in the treasury at palermo; the general allowed himself only, as pay, eight francs a day, and this was always spent before breakfast; for although at messina, as at palermo, he endeavoured to clear the streets of beggars, he himself was never able to resist an appeal, and no sooner had he sauntered out in the morning than his eight francs melted away among the children and infirm persons who flocked round him. he received frank on his arrival with real pleasure, and congratulated him upon having so completely recovered from the effects of his wound. "there is plenty for you to do," he said; "almost every hour ships bring me volunteers from all parts. arrangements have to be made for bestowing and feeding these. we found a considerable supply of tents here, but they are now occupied, and all arrivals henceforth will have to be quartered on the citizens or in the villages near the town. a list will be given to you, every morning, of persons who are willing to receive them, and a mark will be made against the names of those of a better sort, among whom the officers will be quartered. i beg that you will act in concert with concini and peruzzi, and as the troops land give them their billets, and in the case of officers conduct them to the houses where they are to be lodged. of course you yourself will take up your abode here; there is an abundance of room, and i will order the servants to set aside a comfortable chamber for you. all who are in the palace take their early breakfast here, the rest of their meals they take in the town. i have enemies enough, and i do not wish it to be said that we are spending the funds so generously subscribed for us in feasting in the palace. in the evening, you know, you will always be welcome here." it was, of course, too late in the day for frank's work to begin; but later on he again went to the room where garibaldi was chatting with several of his staff. "bixio has been telling me of your adventure," garibaldi said: "it was a sad business. the death of rubini is a grievous loss to me. he fought most gallantly in the alps, and distinguished himself greatly since we landed here; he was a true patriot, and i shall miss him sorely. others there were who died with him, whom i also greatly regret. the one redeeming point in the affair is, as bixio has been telling me, the admirable way in which you succeeded in saving the little party of whom you were in command. he has detailed the matter in full to me, and the oldest head could not have made better preparations for defence, or better hit upon a plan by which you might at once save any stragglers of rubini's detachment who might return, and at the same time ensure the safety of the five men with you. there will be a steamer going to marseilles in the morning, and it will be a pleasure to me to again write to your mother, saying how well you have done, and how completely you have recovered from your wound. the last time i wrote, although i had as warm a praise to give of your conduct, i abstained from telling her that you were seriously wounded. no doubt you would give her full particulars in your own letters." frank's duties, in the way of billeting the troops as they arrived, were of short duration. so rapidly did crowds of volunteers arrive from the north of italy, that it was found impossible to house them in messina. many were sent off to outlying villages; thousands bivouacked on the sandy shore. garibaldi himself went across to sardinia, and returned with two thousand five hundred men who had been gathered there for a descent upon the coast of the papal states. the italian government had, however, vetoed this movement, and had promised that their own troops should, when the time came, perform this portion of the operations. the port was crowded with shipping. by the convention that had been agreed upon between garibaldi on his entrance to messina, and the neapolitan general who commanded the force that occupied the citadel, it was arranged that the sea should be open to both parties; and the singular spectacle was presented of the neapolitan navy looking quietly on while ships arrived loaded with troops for garibaldi, while the sardinian ships-of-war viewed with equal indifference the arrival of reinforcements to the garrison of the citadel. garibaldi's force had now increased to over twenty-five thousand men; of these but five thousand were sicilians, the rest, with the exception of a few french and english volunteers, coming from northern italy. here the enthusiasm caused by the conquest of sicily was unbounded. the universities had all closed their doors, the students having left in a body; and among the volunteers were hundreds of boys of from thirteen to fifteen years old. garibaldi had, with the aid of the municipality of palermo, raised a loan of nearly three million pounds, and obtained, not only rifles for his own force, but a large number for distribution among the peasants of calabria. five days after his arrival, garibaldi sent for frank, and said: "i am going to bestow on you an honour which will, i am sure, be one after your own heart. i am going to send missori with two hundred men across the straits; nullo goes with him. they are to choose the men, and the competition for the honour of being among the first to set foot in calabria will be a keen one indeed; i have spoken to missori, and he will gladly take you as his staff officer. of course it is not intended that he should fight. his mission will be to travel about the country, inciting the population of the calabrian villages to prepare to join us when we land; to confuse the commanders of the neapolitan troops by his rapid movements, and to cause alarm at naples by the news that the invasion of calabria has begun." "i should enjoy that greatly, general, and i feel very much obliged to you for your kindness in choosing me." as major missori had been on garibaldi's staff from the time frank joined him at genoa, he was well known to him; and when frank visited him, and placed himself under his orders, he received him with great cordiality. "the general could not have made a better choice," he said. "it is a great satisfaction to have an officer with me on whose activity and energy i can so confidently rely. i have just got through the hardest, and i may say the most trying part of my work, for i have had to refuse the applications of scores of old comrades, who, almost with tears in their eyes, have begged me to enroll them among my party. but i am limited to two hundred, and when i had once selected that number i was obliged to say no to all others. i think that every man of my band is well suited for the work: all are young, active men, capable of long marches and the endurance of great fatigue; all are men of tried bravery, and should we have a brush with the neapolitans can be trusted to hold their own. we hope to seize the fortress of alta fiumara; we have opened communication with some soldiers of the garrison, and have hopes that we may take it by surprise. if we can do so, it will greatly facilitate the passage of the army across the straits. "here is a list of the stores we are to take in the boats. of course the men will each take eighty rounds of ammunition; we can carry no reserve, for if we have to take to the mountains it would be impossible to transport it. therefore, you see, we practically take with us only a day's provisions. these will be carried down before sunset to the boats, and i wish you would see them so divided that each man will carry approximately the same weight. thus one can take four pounds of bread, another four pounds of meat, a third two bottles of wine and so on; once in the hills we can purchase what we require at the villages. there will, at any rate, be no difficulty in obtaining meat, nor, i should say, bread. beyond that nothing is necessary. "three calabrians, who know the country well, crossed yesterday, and will act as our guides. we shall probably have to maintain ourselves for a week or ten days before the main body crosses. a cart will go down at four o'clock with the stores. i will order six men to accompany it, and to place themselves under your orders. in the cart you will find two hundred haversacks, in which the provisions will be placed, after you have seen to their division, together with forty rounds of spare ammunition. by the way, you had better sell your horse. across such a country as we shall have to traverse, it would be impossible to ride, and you will probably be able to buy another on the mainland for the sum that you will get for him here. there are a good many men on the staff of some of the late arrivals, who are on the look-out for horses." frank, indeed, had several times been asked by officers if he could tell them where they could procure mounts; and, in the course of the day, he had no difficulty in disposing of his horse and saddlery, for the same amount as he had given for them at marsala. he took with him only a spare shirt and pair of socks rolled up in a large blanket, that, with a hole cut in the middle, served as a cloak by day and a cover at night. hitherto this had been strapped on his saddle; he now rolled it up in the fashion followed by most of the garibaldians, so as to carry it slung over one shoulder. this, with his sword, a brace of pistols, and a small haversack, was his only encumbrance. at the appointed hour he went down with the cart and escort to the point, some two miles from the town, where the boats were lying. it took an hour to make the division of the stores, and then there was nothing to do until, at half-past nine o'clock in the evening, missori with his two hundred men marched down. there were fourteen boats, and as these were sufficient to carry the men in comfort, no time was lost in embarking. it was a long row, for although the water was perfectly calm there was a strong current through the straits, and they had to row head to this while crossing; but two hours after starting they landed at a short distance from the fort. they soon had evidence that the commandant here was watchful, for they had gone but a hundred yards when they suddenly came upon a small outlying picket, who, after challenging, fired, and then ran off towards the fort, where the beating of a drum showed that the garrison were already falling in to repel any attack. their hopes of a surprise were therefore at an end, and as it was by surprise alone that the little force had the slightest chance of capturing so strong a fortress, orders were given, after a hasty consultation between missori and nullo, to turn off at once and make for the mountains, while the boats were directed to start back for messina. headed by their guides, they mounted the slopes of aspromonte. when they had gained a height of some four or five hundred feet, they came upon a wooden shed; this was hastily pulled down and a great bonfire lighted, to inform their friends on the other side of the straits that they had safely landed and were on their way to the hills. they had, as they ascended, heard a sharp fire break out at the water's edge, and knew that a portion of the garrison of the fortress had sallied out and opened fire on the retreating boats. the march was continued for some hours. the cannon of the fort had also opened fire--the object doubtless being to inform the large bodies of troops, gathered at various points along the coast to oppose the garibaldians should they cross, that a force of the enemy had landed in the darkness. however, the little party made their way unobserved past the enemy's outposts, who remained stationary, as the officers were ignorant of the strength of the force that had thus evaded the vigilance of the ships-of-war, and thought it probable that garibaldi himself with some thousands of men might be at hand. this portion of calabria was admirably suited for guerilla warfare. the garibaldians were received with enthusiasm at the first village at which they arrived. the news of the easy conquest of sicily had at first filled all hearts with the hope that their day of liberation was at hand; but the concentration of troops in south calabria had damped their spirits, for, accustomed for centuries to be treated like cattle by the soldiers of their oppressors, it seemed to them well-nigh impossible that garibaldi would venture to set foot on the mainland in the face of so imposing a gathering. the presence, then, of this band of men in red shirts seemed to them almost miraculous. the inhabitants vied with each other in their hospitality, and the able-bodied men of the place declared their readiness to take up arms the moment that garibaldi himself crossed the straits. many of them, indeed, at once joined the party, while others started, some among the mountains and some by the roads leading to other villages, in order to bring in early news of the approach of any body of neapolitan troops, and the garibaldians were therefore able to lie down for a few hours' sleep. for the next week they continued their march, visiting village after village, gathering recruits as they went, crossing mountains, winding up ravines, and constantly changing their course so as to throw the neapolitan troops off their track. several times from lofty points they caught sight of considerable bodies of the enemy moving along the roads. once a neapolitan officer rode into a village where they were halting with a despatch from general briganti, containing a demand for their surrender. missori simply replied that they were ready to give battle whenever the supporters of tyranny chose to meet them; but, although he thus answered the summons, he had no idea of encountering an overwhelming force of neapolitans. failing the capture of the fortress on first landing, his mission was to arouse the population, not to fight; and he continued his work among the mountains in spite of the efforts of the enemy to surround him. cavalry were useless in so mountainous a country, and the garibaldians, free from all weight of equipment, and unencumbered by baggage carts, were able to move with a rapidity that set at defiance the efforts of the soldiery hampered by knapsacks and belts, and with their movements restricted by their tightly-fitting uniforms. although their course had been devious, the garibaldians had been gradually working their way south, skirting the heights of montalto. before starting, missori had been informed by garibaldi that he intended to land near reggio eight or nine days after he crossed, and that he was to place his band in that neighbourhood in order to join him in an attack on that town. when he reached a point within ten miles of reggio, missori said to frank, "i must keep moving about, and cannot leave my men; but i will send twenty of them under your command down to melito. there are, as we have learnt from the peasants, none of the neapolitan troops there; but at the same time do not on any account enter the town. were you to do so, some of the inhabitants might send word to reggio; and it might be suspected that you were there for some special purpose. therefore hide yourself among the hills a short distance from the town; and after nightfall send one of your men in. he had better take one of the peasants' cloaks and hats: it will be ample disguise for him. it will be his duty to watch on the shore; and then, if he sees two or three steamers--i cannot say what force garibaldi will bring over--approach the shore, tell him to come up to you at once; and you can then lead your men down to cover, if necessary, the landing of the troops, and to give them any aid in your power. tell the general that i have now eight hundred men with me, and am ready to move to any point he orders." these instructions frank carried out, except that he obtained two peasants' cloaks and hats instead of one. he halted late in the afternoon two miles behind the town, and when it became quite dark took down his men within a quarter of a mile of it; then, assuming one of the disguises, he proceeded with one of the party similarly habited into the town. he posted his follower by the shore, and then re-entered the place. a good many peasants in their high conical hats, with wide brims adorned with ribbons--a costume which is now generally associated with italian brigands, and differs but slightly from that of the savoyards--were wandering about the town. all sorts of rumours were current. it was reported that the neapolitan war-ships were on the look-out for vessels in which it was said garibaldi was about to cross from messina and the cape of faro. others reported that garibaldi himself was with the small corps that had been, for the past week, pursued among the mountains, and whose ever-increasing numbers had been greatly exaggerated by rumour. frank seated himself in front of a wine-shop where several of these men were drinking. he could with difficulty understand their patois; but he gathered that all wished well to the expedition. an hour later he heard a tumult, and going to see what was the matter, he found that one of the police officers of the town had accosted the man he had left upon the sea-shore, and finding that he was ignorant of the patois of the country, had arrested him. four or five other agents of the municipality, which consisted of creatures of the neapolitan government, had gathered round the captive; and the inhabitants, although evidently favourably disposed towards the prisoner, were too much afraid of the vengeance of their masters to interfere. after hesitating a moment, frank ran back to the wine-shop where he had been sitting. his great fear was that the neapolitan agents would at once send news to reggio that a spy had been taken, and that the garrison there would be put on their guard. he therefore entered, and throwing aside his cloak, addressed the eight or ten peasants present. "my friends," he said, "i am one of the officers of garibaldi, who will soon come to free you from your tyrants. as true italians, i doubt not that your hearts are with him; and you now have it in your power to do him a real service." all rose to their feet. "we are ready, signor. tell us what we have to do, and you can rely upon us to do it." "i want you to post yourselves on the road to reggio a hundred yards beyond the town, and to stop any one who may try to leave the place, no matter whether he be a police officer or the syndic. we have a large force near; but we do not wish to show ourselves till the proper moment. it is all-important that no news of our being in the neighbourhood should reach the commander of the troops at reggio." "we will do it, signor; be assured that no one shall pass long." "simply turn back the first that comes," frank said; "if more come, kill them; but i want these agents of your tyrant to know that the road is closed. i could place our own men to do this, but i do not wish it known that there are troops near." the men hurried away, and frank went off and followed the little crowd that accompanied the prisoner and his captors to the house of the syndic. he watched them go in, and in a short time several of the police left the house, and ere long returned with some eight or ten persons whom frank judged to be the municipal council. he waited for a minute or two, and then went to the door. "stand back," he said, to two men who barred the entrance. "i am one of garibaldi's officers. i have hundreds of my peasants round the town, ready to lay it in ashes if i but give the word." they slipped back, confounded by the news; and entering, he went into a room of which the door was standing open. the man who had been left on watch was standing between four policemen; his cloak had been torn off, and he stood in the red shirt, blue breeches and gaiters, that had now become the uniform of the greater portion of garibaldi's followers. some ten or twelve men were seated by a large table, and were talking eagerly. frank again threw back his cloak, walked up and struck the table with his fist. [illustration: "'silence! signors,' he said in a loud voice"] "silence, signors!" he said in a loud voice. "i am the master of this town for the present: it is surrounded by armed peasants who are instructed to cut the throats of any one who attempts to leave it. i am an officer of garibaldi, as you may see by my attire. i have but to give the word, and in ten minutes the whole of you will be strung up from the balcony of this house; therefore, if you value your lives, retire at once to your houses, and, agents though you be of the neapolitan tyrant, no harm will befall you; but if one of you attempts to leave the town, or to send any one out with a message, his life will be forfeited. that will do, sirs: leave at once." the astounded men filed out from the room. when they had all left, frank went out with the late prisoner, locked the door, and put the key in his pocket. "put on your hat and cloak again," he said, "and go down to the road by the sea; watch if any one goes along, and stay a quarter of an hour to see if he returns." then, without putting on his own disguise, he went to the spot where the townspeople, among whom the report of what had happened had spread rapidly, were assembled, and mounting on the steps of a large building there, addressed them. "calabrians," he said, "the moment when your freedom will be attained is at hand. you have heard that a party of troops of that champion of freedom, general garibaldi, has crossed to the mainland. the officer in command has sent me to tell you that they are everywhere joined by the brave calabrians, and will speedily have a force capable of giving battle to the armies of your tyrants. it may be that before many days they will come down here from the mountains, and he hopes to find every man capable of bearing arms ready to join him; it will be a bad day for those who, in spite of the wishes of the people, and the certainty that calabria will shortly be freed from the presence of the troops at naples, strive to check the tide. "for your own sakes watch the men who have acted as the agents of the government of naples; station armed men on every road by which they could send a message to reggio, for should they do so troops might be sent here, and then, when the soldiers of freedom come down from the hills, a battle will be fought in your streets, and many innocent persons might suffer. i do not ask any to come forward now, to declare himself for the cause of freedom; i only ask you to hold yourselves in readiness, so that when we come down from the hills you will welcome us, as men welcome those who come to strike the fetters from their limbs. it may be that you will not have long to wait, and that in eight-and-forty hours missori with a portion of his army will be here. but this i do ask you: keep an eye on your syndic and his council, on the police, and all others who represent the authority of naples, and see that no one on any pretence leaves the town for the next forty-eight hours." the town was a very small one, and a large portion of its population were fishermen; these latter shouted loud approval of frank's words, and declared themselves ready to carry out the instructions he had given them, but the trading class was silent. they had something to lose, and had been so long accustomed to the tyranny of the government that they feared to make any demonstration whatever of liberal opinions until they saw how matters went. it was upon them that the taxes pressed most heavily, and they had far more reason than the fishing class to hail a release from these exactions; but they had more to lose, and they felt that it was best to hold themselves aloof from any manifestation of their feelings. the fishermen, however, thronged round frank, and announced themselves ready at once to obey his orders. "divide yourselves into four parties," he went on; "let each choose a leader and take it in turn to watch the roads and see that none passes." at this moment frank's follower returned. "two of the police went out along the road," he said, "but have just come back." "i am not surprised at what i have just heard," he went on, addressing the fishermen. "the police have already endeavoured to send word to reggio that our friends from the hills are shortly coming here, but they have been stopped on the way by some brave peasants whom i stationed on the road for the purpose. how many police are there here?" "only eight, signor," one of the men said. "come with me, and i will warn them that if any attempt is again made to send word of what is going on here they will be at once hanged." followed by forty or fifty fishermen, he went at once to the police quarters. the sergeant who was in command came out with his detachment. "men," frank said, "we bear no ill-will to those who serve the neapolitan government. it has been the government of this country, and none are to be blamed for taking service with it; and i doubt not that when, like sicily, calabria is free, those who have done their duty, without undue oppression and violence, will be confirmed in their appointments. but woe be to those who oppose the impulse of the country! there are thousands of peasants in the mountains already in arms. the neapolitan soldiers, who were powerless to oppose the people of sicily, will be equally powerless to oppose the people of calabria, aided as these will be, when the time comes, by the great army from the other side of the straits. already, as you know, sir," he said to the officer, "the roads leading from here are guarded. you have made an effort, as was perhaps your duty, to send word to reggio that the heart of the people here beats with those of their brethren among the hills. let there be no further attempts of the sort, or it will be bad, alike for those who go and for those who stay, and when colonel missori arrives you will be treated as the enemies of freedom and punished accordingly. "already i have a detachment close at hand, and the sound of a gun will bring them here at once; but if all is quiet these will not enter the place until the main body arrives. i have come on before, to see whether the people here are to be regarded as friends or as enemies. i already know that they are friends; and in the name of colonel missori, and in the cause of freedom, i order you to remain quiet here, to take no steps either for or against us, and i doubt not that, when the time comes, you will be as ready as the brave fellows here to join the army of freedom. at present my orders are that you remain indoors. i will have no going out, no taking notes as to the names of those who join our cause. i do not order you to give up your arms; i hope that you will use them in the cause of freedom." "your orders shall be obeyed, signor," the sergeant said. "i am powerless to interfere one way or another here, but i promise that no further attempt shall be made to communicate with reggio." "i accept your word, sergeant. and now you will send a man round to the houses of all the town council and all functionaries of the neapolitan government, and state that, by the orders of the representative of colonel missori, they are none of them to leave their houses for the next forty-eight hours; and that they are not to attempt to communicate with each other, or to send any message elsewhere. any attempt whatever to disobey this order will be punished by immediate death. which man do you send?" "thomasso," the sergeant said. "you have heard the order. will you at once carry it round?" "let four of your men," frank said to the fishermen, "go with this policeman. see that he delivers this message, and that he enters into no communication whatever with those to whom he is sent, but simply repeats the order and then goes to the next house." four men stepped forward, and at once started with the policeman. the sergeant and the others withdrew into the house. "now, my friends," frank went on to the fishermen, "do as i told you, and let the first party take up at once the duty of watching the roads, and remain there for six hours. it is now ten; at four the second party will relieve them, and so on at intervals of six hours. it will not be long ere the necessity for this will be at an end. each party will detach eight men in pairs to patrol the streets till morning and arrest any one they find about, and conduct him to the hotel where i shall take up my quarters. those not on duty had best retire quietly to their homes, as soon as it is settled to which section they are to belong. i shall not go to bed, and any question that may arise must at once be referred to me." the fishermen went off to the shore to choose their leaders. "rejoin your comrades," frank said to his follower. "tell them that everything is going on well, and that while two of them are to come down at once to keep watch on the beach, the rest can wrap themselves in their cloaks and lie down until they receive orders from me." frank now went to the one hotel in the town and ordered supper to be prepared for him. the landlord, who had been among the crowd when he addressed them, said humbly,-- "i have already ordered supper to be got ready, signor, thinking that when you had arranged matters you would yourself come here. pray do not think that because many of us did not at once come forward and offer to join you, it was because we were indifferent to your news; but you see it is not with us as with the fishermen. if things go badly, they can embark their families and goods in their boats, cross the straits, and establish themselves in the villages there, and earn their living as before. but with us who have something to lose it is different. our property would be confiscated, we should be driven from home, many of us would be shot, and others thrown into their dungeons." "i quite see that, landlord; and i can hardly blame you for hesitating a little, though you must remember that the men who have been the champions of freedom have been almost wholly men who have had much to lose, but have risked all for their principles, and that garibaldi's army is very largely composed of such men." "ah, signor, but we have never seen any chance of success. when garibaldi once lands, we shall not hang back; but at present it is but a revolt of the peasants. they tell us that france and other powers are endeavouring to prevent him from invading calabria; and if he should not come, what can a few thousand peasants do against a hundred thousand trained troops?" "well, i do not think that garibaldi will be restrained from crossing, whatever pressure is put upon him: they tried to prevent him from sailing from genoa--now he is dictator of sicily; he will land somewhere on the coast, never fear." "in that case, signor, i shall shout as loud as any one, and i shall send my son to carry a musket in his ranks." frank smiled. "well, landlord, let me have my supper; to-morrow we may talk over the affair again. bring me a bottle of good wine, and when supper is served you can close the house for the night. i shall not require a bed, but shall remain here till morning. do not fasten up the front door, as i shall have men call frequently. i hope there are plenty of provisions in the town in case three or four thousand men should march in here to-morrow." "for a day, signor, we might feed them; but i doubt if it would go beyond that." chapter xiv. a discovery. at one o'clock one of the men on the look-out brought to frank the news that he could make out two steamers approaching. frank ran down to the shore. the man's eyesight had not deceived him: two steamers were certainly making their way towards melito, and, from the direction of their course, they had almost certainly come from some port in sicily, and did not belong to the neapolitan squadron that were constantly parading the straits. these, indeed, were for the most part lying twenty miles away, while some were anchored off reggio. demonstrations had been made for some days both at messina and the cape of faro, in order to attract their attention, and lead to the belief that it was intended to land near the spot where missori had disembarked, or at some point north of the entrance to the straits. stores had been ostentatiously placed on board steamers at messina and faro; men had embarked in considerable numbers every evening, and smoke pouring from the funnels showed that steam was being got up. these preparations were keenly watched by the neapolitans, and served their purpose by concentrating all their attention upon these points. garibaldi, on arriving from sardinia with the troops which had been collected there, had despatched the _torino_ and _franklin_, carrying a thousand of these men, round the island with instructions to them to put in at giardini, the port of taormina. he himself proceeded to messina, and then, after seeing that all was going on well there, rode down to the port, having previously sent forward seven hundred men. this detachment was so small that its departure attracted little attention, and it was supposed that it had only gone down to reinforce bixio's brigade; thus messina was as ignorant of the fact that an expedition was about to start from giardini as were the neapolitan commanders. on arrival at giardini, on the evening of august th, garibaldi found that bixio had already embarked a thousand men on board the _torino_, which was a steamer of seven hundred tons, and that he was prepared to send another thousand on board. the _franklin_ was a small paddle steamer of two hundred tons, and she was reported to be leaking so badly that no troops had been embarked on her. garibaldi at once went on board with his staff, and found that she was making water fast. the leak could not be discovered, but garibaldi, as an old sea captain, knew what should be done to check the inrush of water, at least for a time, as it was all-important that she should be able to carry her complement of men across the sixteen miles of water between giardini and melito. several of his officers could swim, and he ordered these to dive overboard, and to find, if possible, the position of the leaks. in the meantime, he sent ashore for a boat-load of a mixture of manure and chopped straw. when this arrived, lumps were thrust down at the end of poles, to the points where leaks had been discovered; particles of the composition were drawn into the leaks by the inrush of water, and in a short time the leakage almost entirely ceased, and the work of embarkation recommenced. three thousand men were carried by the _torino_, and twelve hundred on the _franklin_, where garibaldi himself took his place, while bixio commanded on the _torino_. both vessels were crowded to a dangerous extent; men were packed on deck as closely as they could stand, and were even clustered on the shrouds. had there been any wind, it would have been dangerous in the extreme to put to sea overloaded as they were, but fortunately there was not a breath of air, and the water was perfectly calm. at ten o'clock the two vessels started on their eventful voyage, but owing to the difficulties caused by the strong currents, they did not arrive off melito until two in the morning. as soon as frank had assured himself that the approaching vessels were those he expected, he sent off one of his two men to fetch down the party that had for twelve hours been lying outside the place, while he despatched the other to the huts of the leaders of the three parties of fishermen not engaged in watching the roads, to tell them to call up all their men as quietly as possible and to get their boats in the water. in a short time, therefore, after the _franklin's_ anchor had been dropped, frank arrived alongside the _torino_ with half a dozen fishing boats: he had rowed to her both as being the larger craft and being nearest to the shore, and thought that garibaldi would be on board her. on reaching her he found bixio. several lanterns had been placed near the gangway, and the general at once recognised him. "welcome, captain percival!" he said heartily, as he shook hands with him. "we were glad indeed when we saw the boats putting off, and knew that a detachment of missori's men must be there. have you more boats coming out?" "yes, sir; there will be a dozen more off in a few minutes. i set off as soon as i had assembled a sufficient number of fishermen to man those alongside." "i am sorry to say," bixio said, "that we have run aground, and i fear badly. i have just sent a boat to the _franklin_, where garibaldi is, to tell him what has happened. you had better go at once and report to him. what force have you?" "only fifty men, sir. the colonel sent only a small party, as he was afraid that, were he to come with all his force, he would bring the enemy down here at once." "there is no fear of trouble in the town?" "no, sir; i have arranged all that. you will be entirely unopposed; there are no neapolitans nearer than reggio, and they have no suspicions of our being here." frank at once returned to the boat in which he had come off, and rowed to the _franklin_. "ah, it is you, percival!" garibaldi exclaimed when he saw him. "then all is well. we will begin to land at once, and you can tell me as we go ashore what missori has been doing. how many boats have you with you?" "i have brought six, sir; but there will be at least a dozen more in a few minutes." garibaldi descended into the boat, and was followed by as many men as could be crowded into her. "now, first about the state of things here. is there any chance of our being disturbed before the men are all ashore?" "i should think not, sir. with the exception of the fishermen, whom i have roused to man the boats, no one in the place knows anything of what is going on. the great bulk of the people are in your favour. the syndic and all the authorities are prisoners in their houses, and even if they were conscious of your landing, they could not send the news to reggio, as i have armed parties on all the roads. you have therefore certainly six or eight hours before there is any chance of interruption." "that is good news. indeed, everything has gone well with us so far, except this misfortune of bixio's steamer running aground. unless we can succeed in getting her off, i fear that the neapolitans will capture her. however, that is a minor matter. now, what can you tell me about the position of the enemy?" "there are about thirty thousand men under general viale in and around monteleone; there are twelve thousand at bagnara, and the towns between it and reggio, where there are but fifteen hundred men under general galotta; eighteen hundred men are in aspromonte, in pursuit of missori, who has now about eight hundred men with him." "they could hardly be disposed better for our purpose," garibaldi remarked. "we shall take reggio before supports can arrive to the garrison, and our success there will be worth ten thousand men to us." garibaldi remained on shore watching the disembarkation of the men. every boatman in melito was soon employed in the work, and, by four o'clock the whole of the troops were on the shore. while the disembarkation had been going on, garibaldi had sent for the syndic and other authorities, and had informed them that they must now consider themselves under his authority, and obey promptly all orders that he gave them; that he should require bread, meat, and wine, for a day's consumption for the whole of his force; that he was prepared to pay for the food, but that they must obtain it from the inhabitants. except among the fishermen, the arrival of the force was regarded with an appearance of apathy. the townspeople had been told by the authorities that there was no fear whatever of garibaldi and his freebooters coming near them, and believing that he must speedily be crushed, they regarded his arrival with fear rather than pleasure. there were many there who were well-wishers of the cause, but they feared to exhibit any sign of their friendship, lest they should suffer terribly for it when he and his followers had been destroyed by the troops. in sicily there had been previous insurrections and risings, and the people had long hoped that some day they would shake off the yoke of naples; but no such hope had been entertained on the mainland, where the reign of oppression had been so long unbroken that no thought that it could ever be thrown off had entered the minds of the great majority of the ignorant people. at daybreak the war-vessels at reggio could be seen getting up steam, and the greatest efforts were made to get the _torino_ afloat again. unfortunately the reduction effected in her draught of water by the removal of her passengers and a certain amount of stores had been counteracted by the force of the current, which, as fast as she was lightened, carried her up higher on the shoal. the little _franklin_, which was an american vessel chartered for the occasion, hoisted the stars and stripes as soon as the garibaldians had landed, and steamed across to the island. the _torino's_ italian flag remained flying until three neapolitan steamers came up and opened fire upon the garibaldians on shore. three men were wounded by a shell; when the rest, forming up, marched out of the town, taking the path (it could scarcely be called a road) towards reggio. four men had, soon after the landing had been effected, been sent to missori with orders that he should join at reggio. as soon as the garibaldians were out of range, the neapolitan commanders turned their guns on the _torino_, and after keeping up a heavy fire upon her for some hours, they sent parties in boats to board her and set her on fire. the first part of the march towards reggio was an extremely toilsome one. for the first eight miles, from melito to cape d'armi, the slopes of the mountains extend to the very edge of the water, and the troops were continually mounting the steep spurs or descending into ravines. they had with them four mountain guns, and as the path could only be traversed by the men in single file, the difficulty of taking the guns along was immense. the men were in the highest spirits. the fact that, in case of disaster, the destruction of the _torino_ had cut off all means of return to sicily, in no way troubled them. similarly they had thrown themselves on shore at marsala, and the ships in which they had come had been captured by the enemy. their confidence in garibaldi was absolute, and no thought of disaster was for a moment entertained. once past the cape, they halted. it was already evening, and although the distance in miles had been short, the fatigue had been very great, and none had closed an eye on the previous night. it was therefore impossible to go farther. they were received with enthusiasm by the people of the villages scattered here and there on the mountain-side. a greek colony had very many years before settled there, and retained many of their own customs, and even their own language; but although conversation with the north italian garibaldians was difficult, and often impossible, there could be no mistake as to the heartiness of their welcome. everything in the way of provisions was given to the soldiers, and each cottage took in as many men as it could hold; and from the moment, indeed, when the garibaldians set foot in calabria, they met with a far deeper and heartier welcome than had been the case in sicily. in the latter they had been joined by a comparatively small body of volunteers, and the people had contented themselves with shouting and cheering, but had given little else; and even in messina the appeals of garibaldi for aid in the hospitals, and lint and bandages for the wounded, had met with little response: the sicilians had, in fact, fallen to the level of the neapolitans. in calabria, on the other hand, the population was manly, hardy, and hospitable--possessing the virtues of mountaineers in all countries; and as the news of garibaldi's landing spread, the whole population took up arms. here communications were received from missori, who stated that he was pushing forward with all haste; but that, from the ruggedness of the mountains along which he was travelling, he could not hope to be at reggio until late the following evening. the next day the garibaldians advanced along the mountain-side; a detachment sent out from reggio retiring along the road as they advanced. the force halted for the night six miles from the town. a messenger from missori announced that, in spite of his efforts, he was still far distant; garibaldi, therefore, determined to attack the next morning without waiting for him. communications had been opened with the townsfolk, and a message was sent back that the national guard would support him. few towns are more beautifully situated than reggio. it lies on the lowest slope of a spur of aspromonte. behind it rises the castle, with its guns commanding the town, whose scattered suburbs and gardens stretch far away up the mountain-side; while across the straits lies the bay of catania, with numerous towns and villages up the slopes of etna, which forms a background, with wreaths of smoke ascending from the volcano on its summit. away to the right lies messina, and the coast stretching along to cape faro. the intervening strait is dotted with shipping: steamers on their way to the east, or returning to italy and france; sailing-ships flying the flags of many nations, fishing-and rowing-boats. it was settled that bixio with his brigade was to enter the town by the main road, and effect a junction with the national guard in the piazza lying below the castle; and that, when the junction was made, a battalion was to descend to the shore and attack a small fort near the marina. as soon as the news of garibaldi's landing had reached the town, the principal people and the officers of the national guard had called upon gallotta, and begged him, if he intended to fight garibaldi, to go outside the town to do so, and so save the place from the injury that would be effected by a desperate struggle in the streets. the request was a strange one; but the general, who no doubt considered that he would do better in a fight in the open than in the streets, where possibly the inhabitants might take part against him, agreed to do this, and on garibaldi's approach marched out of the fortress with eight hundred men in two detachments, one of which took post at the bridge just outside reggio, while, strangely enough, the other four hundred men took up a position on the opposite side of the town. in order to confuse the italian troops, who would be marching from all the towns on the coast towards reggio, garibaldi had sent orders to cosenz to cross during the night from cape faro with twelve hundred men in boats, and to land near bagnara. expecting some hard fighting, the garibaldians moved on at midnight. when they approached the town the scouts went forward, and found to their surprise that the bridge was unoccupied. bixio at once crossed it; and, reaching the piazza, joined the national guard there without a shot having been fired. similarly, garibaldi with the rest of the force entered the suburbs. they came upon a small outpost, which was at once driven back; and gallotta, who, not dreaming of a night attack, had withdrawn most of his troops into the castle, now beat a hasty retreat with the remainder, and a cannonade was at once opened by its guns upon the town. the neapolitan force on the other side of reggio retreated at once, fearing that they would not be able to enter the castle, and retired along the road, hoping to meet general braganti, who was advancing with a column to reinforce the garrison. bixio's battalion took the little fort on the marina without difficulty. barricades were at once thrown up across all the streets leading to the castle, in order to prevent the garrison from making a sortie, or any relieving force reaching it. it was daylight now, and missori and his column arrived, as arranged, upon the hill-side above the castle, and at once opened so heavy a musketry fire upon its defenders, that the artillery were unable to serve the guns. feeling that the castle could not hold out long, garibaldi despatched a battalion to hold the relieving column in check; but braganti had already heard from the fugitives that the town and seaside fort were in the hands of the garibaldians, and the castle invested upon all sides: he therefore fell back to await further reinforcements, being ignorant of the force under garibaldi's command. at twelve o'clock a loud cheer broke from the garibaldians round the castle, for the white flag of surrender was hoisted. the general granted the same terms that were given to bosco's force at milazzo--namely, that the garrison might march down to the shore, and there embark on board the neapolitan war-ships for conveyance to naples, leaving all munitions of war, money, and all prisoners who might be confined there, behind them. thus, with the loss of only seven men killed and wounded, a castle which had been considered capable of resisting a long siege was captured, and the first blow struck at the bourbon dynasty of naples. the success in itself was a striking one; its consequences were far-reaching. the news that reggio had been captured by the garibaldians, almost without fighting, spread like wild-fire. cosenz's landing had also been successful; and this, added to the news that all southern calabria had risen in arms, created such consternation among the commanders of the various bodies of troops in the towns facing the straits, that all prepared to march at once to join the main force at monteleone. as soon as the castle surrendered, garibaldi despatched boats across the straits, with orders to the troops at messina and cape faro to cross at once in any craft they could get hold of. no advance from reggio was made that afternoon, as the troops required some rest after their exertions. as evening came on the scene was a striking one; every town and village on the other side of the straits from cape faro to giardini being illuminated. the lights twinkled, and bonfires blazed, far up the sides of etna. as soon as garibaldi had entered the castle, he said to frank, who had been near him all day: "take ten men and search the castle thoroughly, and release all political prisoners. there are sure to be many here." frank obeyed the order eagerly. at palermo he had not expected to find any prisoners from the mainland; and he had read through the list of those found and released at messina without emotion--for there, as at palermo, all were men, for the most part of good family, belonging to the city; but now he was on the mainland, and prisoners taken in any part of the neapolitan dominions might be found here. first he obtained the list of those detained from the officer in special charge of them. no familiar name met his eye as he glanced hastily down it. "you are sure that this is the entire list?" he asked the officer. "there are none others," the latter replied; "but if you are searching for a friend you may find him here, though bearing another name. the majority of the prisoners are registered under their real names, but in some cases, where there are particular reasons for secrecy, another name is given when they are brought here, and i myself am ignorant of what their real designations may be." "you had better accompany me round, sir," frank said, "and see that the jailors open all the doors and give me every facility." the officer willingly assented: he felt that his appointment under the neapolitan government was at an end, and was anxious to please those who were likely to be his masters in the future. as a rule some fifteen or twenty men were confined together; these were first visited, but no familiar face was found among them. "those you have seen," the officer said, "are, i believe, all confined here under their own names; as you see, a number are kept together. all are allowed at certain hours of the day to go out into the courtyard and to converse with each other freely. there are four prisoners who are kept apart from the rest, and each other; these are the four who bear, i believe, other names than those given on the list. they go out for four or five hours at a time on to the walls, but each has his separate place for exercise, and they can hold no communication with each other, or with the rest of the prisoners. in all other respects they have the same food and treatment." the scene in each of the rooms that he had hitherto entered had been very painful; the prisoners had heard the sound of firing, but were in ignorance of what it meant. no news from the outside world ever reached them; they had heard nothing of the events in sicily, and the only explanation that they could imagine for the firing was that there had been a revolution in the province, and that the castle had been attacked by a party of insurgents. their hopes had fallen when the firing ceased; and during the hour that had passed while the negotiations were being carried on, had altogether faded away. they had heard no cannon from without; and that a body of insurgents should have captured the fortress seemed out of the question. there had been an attack, but the assailants had evidently fallen back. when, therefore, frank entered, attended by their chief and followed by eight men in red shirts, broad-brimmed hats, and carrying muskets, they were too astonished even to guess at the truth until frank said: "gentlemen, in the name of general garibaldi, who has captured this castle, i have the pleasure to announce to you that from this moment you are free men." for the most part the announcement was received in silence. they could scarce believe the possibility of what he said. the name of garibaldi was known to all. it was he who had commanded at the defence of rome; it was he who, as those who had been longest there had learned from comparatively late comers, had done such signal service in the alps with his volunteers, when, by the aid of france, milan and part of lombardy was wrested from the austrians. they looked at one another almost incredulously; then, as the meaning of frank's words dawned upon them, some fell into each others' arms, murmuring incoherent words, others burst into tears, while some again dropped on their knees to thank god for their deliverance. frank had to wait for a few minutes in each room until they had recovered themselves a little, and then sent out each batch with two of his soldiers to see for themselves that they were really free, and to thank garibaldi for their rescue. "now, signor," the officer said, when they had left the last of the large rooms, "there are only the four special prisoners to visit." the first of these was a man in the prime of life, although with long unkempt hair and beard. as frank repeated the words he had used before, the man looked at him with an unmeaning smile. again and again he spoke to him, but a low childish laugh was the only answer. frank turned angrily to the officer. "the poor fellow's mind has gone," he said. "how long has he been a prisoner here?" "about eight years, signor; for some time his mind has been getting weaker." "the brutes!" frank exclaimed passionately. "here, men, take this poor fellow out to the courtyard, and remain with him: i will ask the general presently what had best be done with him. are the others like this?" he asked the officer, with a thrill of fear that overpowered the hope that he had lately been feeling. "one of them is silent, and seldom speaks, but he is, i believe, quite sensible; the other two are well. the man we shall next see is perfectly so; he never speaks to us, but when alone here, or when upon the wall for exercise, he talks incessantly to himself: sometimes in italian; sometimes, as one of the officers who understands that language says, in english; sometimes in what i have heard our priests say is latin; sometimes in other languages." "before you open the door, tell me what age he is," frank asked, in a low strained voice. "i should say that he was about sixty, signor; he has been here nearly three years," the man said. "now open the door." frank entered almost timidly. a tall man rose from a palette, which was the sole article of furniture in the room. "is it treason, lieutenant," he asked quietly, "to ask what has been going on?" frank with an exclamation of joy stepped forward: "grandfather," he said, "thank god i have found you!" the prisoner started, looked at him searchingly, and exclaimed, "frank! yes, it is frank: is this a miracle, or am i dreaming?" "neither, grandfather. garibaldi has landed; we have taken the castle, and, thank god, you are free." the professor sank back on his bed and sat for a minute or two with his face buried in his hands; then he rose, put his hands upon frank's shoulders, and then clasped him in his arms, bursting as he did so into tears, while frank's own cheeks were wet. the professor was the first to recover himself. "i had fancied, frank," he said, "that i was a philosopher, but i see i am not; i thought that all emotion for me was over, but i feel now like a child. and can i really go out?" "yes," frank said; "but i have two more doors to open, and then i will go with you." "i will wait here for you, frank: i shall be glad to be for a few minutes alone, to persuade myself that this is not a dream, and to thank god for his mercy. one moment, though, before you leave me: is my wife alive and well, and my daughter?" "both are well," frank said; "it is five months since i saw them, but i had letters from both four days ago." then he left the cell. "this is the silent man," the officer said, as he opened the next door. frank repeated his usual speech to the dark-bearded man who faced him when he entered. "you are young to lie, sir," the man said sternly. "this, i suppose, is a fresh trick to see whether i still hate the accursed government that has sent me here." "it is no lie, signor," frank said quietly. "i am an officer of general garibaldi's. he has conquered all sicily, and with some four thousand men crossed the straits three days ago to melito, and has now captured this place." the man burst into a wild fit of laughter, and then, with another cry of "you lie!" he sprang upon frank, and had it not been for the officer and the two garibaldian soldiers, who still accompanied them, would assuredly have strangled him; for, strong as he was, frank was but an infant in the man's hands. after a desperate struggle, he was pulled off, and forced down on his bed. "leave him," frank said: "he will be quiet now.--signor, i can understand your feelings; you think what i have said is impossible. you will soon see that it is not. as soon as you calm yourself, one of my men will accompany you to the courtyard, which is, you will find, full of garibaldians; and the general himself will assure you that you are a free man, and can, if you choose, quit this place immediately." the man's mood changed. "i am calm," he said, rising to his feet. "perhaps this man will take me out to execution, but it will be welcome to me. i have prayed for death so long that i can only rejoice if it has come." then he quietly walked out of the cell, followed by one of the soldiers, who, being by no means satisfied that the prisoner had ceased to be dangerous, slipped his bayonet on to his musket before following him. the fourth prisoner was very feeble, but he received the news with tranquillity. "it does not make much difference to me now," he said; "but it will be some satisfaction to know that i shall be buried outside the prison." "you must not look at it in that light, signor," frank said. "no doubt you will pick up health and strength when you rejoin your friends, and find that the tyranny and oppression you struggled against are at an end." leaving the last of his men to give the poor fellow his arm and lead him out, frank returned to professor forli. the latter rose briskly as he came in. "i am myself again," he said. "your coming here so strangely, and the news you brought, were so great a surprise, that everything seemed confused, and i was unable to grasp the fact. i have heard that a good swimmer, if he falls suddenly into deep water, behaves for a few moments like one who is ignorant of the art, striking out wildly, swallowing much water before he fairly grasps the situation and his skill returns to him. so it was with me: my equanimity has never been shaken since i was first seized. i perceived at once that what was to come was inevitable. i reflected that i was vastly better off than most; that my mind was stored with knowledge accumulated by the great thinkers of all ages, and that, so fortified, i could afford to be indifferent to imprisonment or persecution. but you see the suddenness of the knowledge that i was free, did what captivity, even as hopeless as mine, had failed to do. now, frank, let us go out: you shall take me down to the sea-shore, and then tell me by what marvel you come to be here. if it had been your father, i should not have been so surprised; but that you, whom i had thought of as a boy at harrow, should throw open my prison-door, is past my understanding at present. of course, your father is here with you?" "i am sorry to say that he is not," frank said quietly; "but i will tell you all about it when we get down to the shore. i must, before we start, tell the general that all the prisoners have been freed, and that i have found you, and ask if he will require me just at present." going into the courtyard, frank left his grandfather to look on at a scene so novel to him, and went into the room where garibaldi and bixio were examining, with the syndic, a map of the district. he stood at the door till the general looked round. "pardon me, sir, for interrupting you, but i wish to report to you that among the other prisoners i have found signor forli, and that he is in good health." garibaldi rose from his seat, and holding out both hands grasped those of frank. "i am glad--i am glad indeed, lad," he said with deep feeling, "that my old friend is rescued; glad that the sacrifice that your mother made in parting with you has not been in vain, and that your own bravery and good conduct have been thus rewarded. i pray god that that other that you are seeking for, still nearer and more loved, may also be found." "excuse me," he said to bixio and the syndic: "i must shake signor forli by the hand before i go farther into this." as he hurried out, frank said,--"i have not told him about my father yet, sir. he suggested himself that we should go down together to the sea-shore, where we could talk matters over quietly; and i came in partly to ask you if you would require my services for the next hour or two?" "certainly not, percival. yes, i will be careful; it would be a shock to him to be told suddenly that your father had lost his life in his search for him." led by frank, he hurried to the spot where the professor was standing, quietly regarding the garibaldians laughing and chatting, and the groups of the neapolitan troops, who, now disarmed, were standing talking together with disheartened and sombre faces. "ah, professor," he exclaimed, as he came up to him; "glad indeed am i that you have been found and rescued. your friends were right in not despairing of you. it seems an age since we parted twelve years ago at rome. you are little changed. i feared that if found you would be like so many of the others whose prison doors we have opened--mere wrecks of themselves." "nor have you changed much," signor forli said, as he stood holding the general's hand; "a line or two on the forehead, but that is all. and so you have taken up again the work that seemed postponed for another century at rome?" "yes; and this time i hope that all italy will be freed. now, old friend, you must excuse me for the present--i am full of business; this evening we must have a long talk together; much has happened in the three years that have passed since you disappeared. you can keep this youngster with you. he has well earned a day's holiday." so saying, garibaldi hurried off. chapter xv. the advance from reggio. professor forli was silent until he and frank had passed out through the gate of the castle, then he took a long breath. "the air of freedom," he said, "is no different from that i have breathed daily on the walls there, for well-nigh three years, and yet it seems different. it is a comfort that my prison lay in this fair spot, and not in some place where i could see but little beyond the walls. often and often have i thanked god that it was so, and that, even as a free man and with the world before me, i could see no more lovely scene than this. there was change, too: there was the passage of the ships; i used to wonder where each was sailing; and about the passengers, and how hopefully many of these were going abroad to strange countries in search of fortunes, and how few were returning with their hopes fully satisfied. i smiled sometimes to think of the struggle for wealth and advancement going on in the world round me, while i had no need to think of the future; but my needs, always, as you know, few and simple, were ministered to; and though cut off from converse with all around me, i had the best company in the world in my cell. how thankful i was that my memory was so good--that i could discourse with the great men of the world, could talk with plato and argue with demosthenes; could discuss old age with cicero, or travel with either homer or virgil; visit the inferno with dante, or the heavens with milton; knew by heart many of the masterpieces of shakespeare and goethe, and could laugh over the fun of terence and plutarch: it was a grand company." so the professor continued to talk until they reached the shore. frank was not called upon to speak. the professor was talking to himself rather than to him, continuing the habit of which the officer of the prison had spoken. as yet his brain was working in its old groove. once on the strand, he stood silently gazing for two or three minutes, then he passed his hand across his forehead, and with an evident effort broke the chain of his thoughts and turned to frank. "strange talk, no doubt you are thinking, frank, for a man so suddenly and unexpectedly released from a living grave; but you see, lad, that the body can be emancipated more quickly than the mind from its bonds, and i am as one awaking from a deep sleep and still wondering whether it is i myself, and how i came to be here, and what has happened to me. i fear that it will be some time before i can quite shake off my dreams. now, lad, once more tell me about my wife and your mother. but no, you have told me that they are well. you have said naught of your father, save that he is not here. where is he? and how is he?" "i can answer neither question, grandfather. he, like you, has been lost to us; he disappeared a few months after you did, and we were led to believe that he was killed." the professor was himself again in an instant. the mood that had dominated him was shaken off, and he was keen, sharp, and alert again, as frank remembered him. "he is lost?" he repeated: "you heard that he was killed? how was it? tell me everything. in the early days of my imprisonment, when i thought of many things outside the walls of my gaol, one thing troubled me more than others. my wife had her daughter; no harm would come to her, save the first grief at my loss and the slow process of hope dying out. my daughter had everything that a woman could wish to make her happy; but your father, i knew him so well, he would not rest when the days passed and no news of me came--he would move heaven and earth to find me; and a man in this country who dares to enquire after a political prisoner incurs no small danger. is it so that he was missing? tell me all, and spare no detail; we have the rest of the day before us. we will sit down on this seat. now begin." frank told, at length, how, on the news of the professor's disappearance, his father had interested the english government in the matter, and how to all enquiries made the government of naples had replied that they knew nothing whatever concerning his disappearance; and how, at last, he himself started with an order obtained from naples for him to search all the prisons of southern italy. "it was just like him; it was noble and chivalrous," the professor said; "but he should have known better. an englishman unacquainted with italy might have believed that with such an order he might safely search for one who he suspected was lying in a neapolitan prison, but your father should have known better. notice would assuredly be sent before he arrived; and had he come here, for example, i should a week before have been carried away up into the mountains, till he had gone. he would have been shown the register of prisoners, he would not have found my name among them, he would have been told that no such person as he described had ever been confined here,--it was hopeless. but go on with your story." frank told how his father had visited several prisons, and how he wrote letters, exposing their horrors, that had appeared in the english papers, and had created an immense impression throughout the country. "it was mad of him," the professor murmured; "noble, but mad." then frank told how the news came of his being carried off by brigands, of the steps that had been taken, of the evidence of the courier who saw him fall, and of some of his effects being found in the hut on the mountain when this was captured and the brigand chief killed, of the report given by one of the prisoners that his father had died and been buried shortly after he was taken there, and of the vain search that had been made for his body. "and was this tale believed?" signor forli exclaimed, leaping to his feet. "no italian would for a moment have thought it true--at least, none who had the misfortune to be born under the neapolitan rule. surely my wife never believed it?" "in her heart i know now that she did not," frank said, "but she kept her doubts to herself for the sake of my mother. she thought that it was far better that she should believe that father was dead than that she should believe him buried in one of the foul prisons he had described." "she was right--she was right," the professor said: "it was certainly better. and your mother--did she lose hope?" "she told me that she would not allow herself to believe that he might still be alive, and i believe that she and the signora never said one word on the subject to each other until just before i started." he then related how the courier had been brought over, how he had been installed in the house in cadogan place, and how no suspicion of his being a spy had been entertained until after the receipt of garibaldi's letter, and how they were convinced at last that he had overheard all the arrangements made for his leaving for italy. "and you are alive, frank, to tell me this! by what miracle did you escape from the net that was thrown around you?" this part of the story was also told. "it was well arranged and bravely carried through, frank. so you took up the mission which had cost your father either his life or his liberty? it was a great undertaking for a lad, and i wonder indeed that your mother, after the losses she had suffered, permitted you to enter upon it. well, contrary to all human anticipations, you have succeeded in one half of it, and you will, i trust, succeed in the other. what seemed hardly possible--that you should enter the castle of reggio as one of its conquerors, and so have free access to the secrets of its prison--has been accomplished; and if garibaldi succeeds in carrying his arms farther, and other prison doors are opened, we may yet find your father. what you have told me has explained what has hitherto been a puzzle to me: why i should have been treated as a special prisoner, and kept in solitary confinement. now i understand it. england had taken the matter up; and as the government of naples had denied all knowledge of me, it was necessary that neither any prisoner, who, perhaps, some day might be liberated, nor any prison official should know me, and be able to report my existence to the british representative. you may be sure that, had your father come here, and examined every prisoner and official, privately, he would have obtained no intelligence of me. giuseppe borani would not have been here, he would have been removed, and none would dream that he was the prisoner for whom search was made. and now tell me briefly about this expedition of garibaldi. is all europe at war, that he has managed to bring an army here?" "first of all, grandfather, i must tell you what happened last year." he then related the incidents of the war of , whereby france and sardinia united and wrested milan and lombardy from the austrians; the brilliant achievements of the garibaldians; the disappointment felt by italy at nice and a part of savoy being handed over to napoleon as the price of the services that he had rendered; how bologna and florence, palma, ferrara, forli, and ravenna, had all expelled their rulers and united themselves with sardinia; and how, garibaldi having been badly treated and his volunteers disbanded, he himself had retired disappointed and hurt to caprera. then he related briefly the secret gathering of the expedition; the obstacles thrown in its way; its successful landing in sicily, and the events that had terminated with the expulsion of the neapolitan forces from the island. "garibaldi began with but a thousand men," he said in conclusion. "he is now at the head of twenty thousand, and it will grow every hour; for we have news of risings throughout southern calabria. if a thousand sufficed for the conquest of sicily, twenty thousand will surely be sufficient for that of the mainland. the easy capture of this place will strike terror into the enemy, and raise the enthusiasm of the troops and the calabrians to the utmost. garibaldi has but four thousand men with him now; but by this time to-morrow ten thousand at least will have crossed, and i think it is possible that we shall reach naples without having to fight another battle. at any rate, one pitched battle should be enough to free all southern italy. the papal states will come next, and then, as garibaldi hopes, venice; though this will be a far more serious affair, for the austrians are very different foes from the neapolitans, and have the advantage of tremendously strong fortifications, which could only be taken by siege operations with heavy artillery, and certainly could not be accomplished by troops like garibaldi's. "now about my father. supposing him to be alive, where do you think he would most probably be imprisoned?" "there is no saying. that he is alive, i feel confident--unless, indeed, he died in prison from the effect of the wound given him when he was captured. that he did not die when in the hands of the brigands, we may take to be certain, for his grave must in that case have been discovered. he must have been handed over to a party of police sent to fetch him by previous agreement with the brigands, and would have been confined in some place considered especially secure from search. i should fancy that he is probably in naples itself,--there are several large prisons there. then there would be the advantage that, if the british government had insisted upon a commission of their own officers searching these prisons, he could be removed secretly from one to another, so that before the one in which he was confined could be examined, he would have been taken to another, which had been previously searched. "his case was a more serious one than mine. although i was a naturalised british subject, i had gone of my own free will to italy, in the vain belief that i should be unmolested after so long an absence; and probably there would have been no stir in the matter had not your father taken it up so hotly, and by the influence he possessed obtained permission to search the dungeons. but, as i said, his case was a far more serious one. he went out backed by the influence of the british government; he was assisted by the british legation; he held the order of the neapolitan government for admission to all prisons. thus, had it been found that he had, in spite of their own so-called safe-conduct, been seized and imprisoned, the british fleet would have been in the bay of naples in a very short time--especially as his letters, as you tell me, created so much feeling throughout the country. therefore it would be an almost vital question for the government to maintain the story they had framed, and to conceal the fact that, all the time they were asserting that he had been captured and killed by the brigands, he was in one of their own prisons. "i may say frankly that they would unhesitatingly have had him killed, perhaps starved to death in a cell, were it not that they would have put it in the power of some official or other to betray them: a discovery that would have meant the fall of the government, possibly the dethronement of the king. had he been an italian, he would assuredly have been murdered, for it would not have paid any prison official to betray them; whereas, being an englishman of distinction, in whose fate the british government had actively interested itself, any man who knew the facts could have obtained a reward of a very large amount indeed for giving information. that is the sole reason, frank, that leads me to believe that he may still be alive. he was doubtless imprisoned under another name, just as i was; but at least it would be known to the men that attended upon him that he was an englishman, and these could scarcely have avoided suspecting that he was the man about whom such a stir had taken place. the government had already incurred a tremendous risk by his seizure; but this would have been far greater had foul means been used to get rid of him in prison. "in the former case, should by any extraordinary chance his existence have become known to the british legation, they would have framed some deliberate lie to account for their ignorance of his being captain percival. they might, for instance, assert that he had been taken prisoner in the mountains, with a party of brigands; that his assertions that he was an englishman had been wholly disbelieved, for he would naturally have spoken in italian, and his italian was so good that any assertions he made that he was an englishman would have been wholly discredited. that is merely a rough guess at the story they might have invented, for probably it would have been much more plausible; but, however plausible, it would not have received the slightest credit had it been found that he had been foully done to death. "it is difficult, frank, when one is discussing the probable actions of men without heart, honour, or principle, and in deadly fear of discovery, to determine what course they would be likely to take in any particular circumstances. now, the first thing that i have to do is to cross to messina, and to telegraph and afterwards to write to my wife. can i telegraph?" "yes, but not direct: the regular line is that which crosses the straits to this town and then goes up through italy. that, of course, we have not been able to use, and could not use it now. all messages have been sent by the line from cape passaro to malta, and thence through sardinia and corsica to spezzia. you can send a message by that. there will be no difficulty in getting a boat across the straits. you see the war-ships have steamed away. as soon as the castle was taken they found that their anchorage was within range of its guns. they fired a few shots into the town when the castle was bombarding it, and then retired. i believe that all through the men of the navy have been very reluctant to act against us, except, of course, at palermo." "then i will go at once. it is strange to me to be able to say i will go." "very well, grandfather. of course you have no money, but i can supply you with as much as you like. i have plenty of funds. i can't say where you will find me when you come back, but you will only have to enquire where garibaldi himself is: i am sure to be with him." "i shall stay a couple of days there. after that hard pallet and prison fare i cannot resist the temptation of a comfortable bed, a well-furnished room, and a civilised meal, especially as i am not likely to find any of these things on the way to naples." "by the way, i should think you could telegraph from here," frank said. "garibaldi sent off a message to messina directly the castle was taken." "then let us do so by all means." they went at once to the telegraph office, and from there the professor sent the following message: "dearest wife, frank has found and released me. am well and in good health. shall write fully this evening. shall accompany him and aid in his search for leonard. love to muriel.--forli." having handed this in, they went down to the shore again, and had no difficulty in hiring a boat. frank took twenty sovereigns from his belt. "you will want all this, grandfather, for indeed you must have an entirely new fit-out." "i suppose i must. there has not been much wear-and-tear in clothes, but three years is a long time for a single suit to last, and i have lately had some uneasiness as to what i should do when these things no longer hung together; and i certainly felt a repugnance to asking for a prison suit. i must decidedly go and get some clothes fit to be seen in before i present myself at an hotel. no respectable house would take me in as i am." "will you have more, sir? i can let you have fifty if you would like it." "no, my boy, i don't want to be encumbered with luggage. a suit besides that i shall wear, and a change of underclothes, will suffice. these can be carried in a small hand-bag, and whether we walk, or ride, i can take it with me." after seeing signor forli off, frank returned to the castle. "where is the professor?" garibaldi asked, when he reported himself as ready for duty. "i have just seen him off to messina, general. he is sorely in need of clothes, and he wants to write a long letter home, and he could scarcely find a quiet room where he could do so in reggio. he will rejoin us as we advance." "that is the wisest thing he could do; for although he looks wonderfully well, he can hardly be capable of standing much fatigue after taking no exercise for three years. he will have a great deal to learn as to what has taken place since he has been here, for i don't suppose the prisoners heard a whisper of the great changes in northern italy." "i told him in a few words, sir, but i had no time to give him any details." at reggio twenty-six guns, five hundred muskets, and a large quantity of coal, ammunition, provisions, horses, and mules were captured. on the following morning, major nullo and the guides with a battalion were thrown out towards san giovanni. there was no other forward movement. the general was occupied in receiving deputations from many towns and villages, and there were arrangements to be made for the transport of such stores and ammunition as were likely to be required. the garibaldians had crossed in large numbers. cosenz and medici, with a considerable portion of their commands, were already over, and the former had gone up into the hills. the next morning garibaldi with two thousand men and six captured field-pieces moved forward. it was possible that they would meet with opposition at san giovanni, and they had scarcely started when a messenger arrived from nullo. believing from the reports of the countrymen that the neapolitans were retiring, he had ridden on with six of the guides, till to his astonishment, at a bridge crossing a ravine close to that town, he came upon two squadrons of neapolitan lancers. with great presence of mind, he and his men had drawn their revolvers and summoned the officers in command to surrender. "surrender to whom?" the latter asked. "to garibaldi: he is ready to attack at once, if you refuse." "i will take you to the general," the officer said. to him nullo repeated his command. "i have no objection to confer with garibaldi himself," the general said, "and will go with you to him." "i cannot take you," nullo said: "my instructions are simply to demand your surrender; but i will go myself and inform him of your readiness to meet him. in the meantime, i demand that you withdraw your lancers from the bridge, which must be considered as the boundary between the two forces. you can leave two men on your side, and i will leave two on mine." to this the general agreed; and posting two of his men at the bridge, another was sent back to beg garibaldi to hurry up the troops. messengers went backward and forward between general melendis and garibaldi, who was marching forward with all haste. but, as the terms the latter laid down were that the troops should give up their arms and then be allowed to march away, no agreement was arrived at, and the neapolitans evacuated the town and took up a very strong position on the hill-side above it. they were two thousand five hundred strong, with five guns. in the evening garibaldi with two thousand men arrived near the place, and sending forward two companies to the bridge, made a circuit through the hills, and took up a position above and somewhat in rear of the neapolitans. a messenger was sent to cosenz, who was seventeen miles away, ordering him to start at once, and, if possible, arrive in the morning. a body of calabrian peasantry undertook to watch the enemy, and the garibaldians, wrapping themselves in their blankets, lay down for the night. before daybreak they were on their feet, and moved down the hill. the enemy opened fire with shell, but only two or three men fell, and the fire was not returned. on arrival at a spot where they were sheltered from the fire, garibaldi sent in a messenger with a flag of truce, renewing the offer of terms. the neapolitans shot the bearer of the flag as he approached them, but afterwards offered to treat. garibaldi, however, greatly angered at this violation of the laws of war, replied at first that he would now accept nothing but unconditional surrender. an armistice was however granted, to enable the general to communicate with general braganti. this afforded time, too, for cosenz to arrive from salerno, and for bixio, whose brigade had remained at reggio, to bring up some guns; these were posted so as to entirely cut the neapolitan line of retreat. at five o'clock garibaldi sent an order to the neapolitans to lay down their arms within a quarter of an hour, or he would advance. their general, seeing that he could not now hope to be reinforced, and that he was completely surrounded, assented to the demand. his soldiers piled their arms and soon fraternised with the garibaldians, many of them showing unconcealed pleasure that they had not been called upon to oppose those who had come to free their country. the greater portion of them threw away their accoutrements, and even their caps, and then dispersed, a few starting to join the main force under viarli, the greater portion scattering to their homes. the fort by the water's edge below the town had also surrendered. this was an important capture, as it possessed several heavy guns; and these, with those of faro on the opposite shore, commanded the straits, consequently the neapolitan ships could not pass on their way up towards naples, but were forced to retire through the other end and to make their way entirely round the island, thus leaving the passage between messina and the mainland entirely open. at daybreak garibaldi started at the head of cosenz's column for alta-fiumara, which the first party of garibaldians that landed had failed to capture. this, after a short parley, surrendered on the same terms as those granted the day before, and the men, throwing away their shakoes and knapsacks, started for their various homes. three miles farther, the castle of scylla surrendered, the national guard of the town having taken up arms and declared for garibaldi as soon as they heard that he was coming. bagnara had also been evacuated, viarli having withdrawn with his force and marched to monteleone. a halt was made here. the strictest orders had been given by garibaldi against plundering or in any way giving cause for hostility among the peasantry. sentries were posted, and one of the soldiers found stealing grapes was shot--an example which prevented any repetition of the offence. that evening frank, who was down on the shore, watching the men from messina being landed from several steamers, saw signor forli. "it is lucky indeed that i was down here," he said, "for every house in the town is full of troops, and you might have searched all night without finding me. it is quite useless to look for a bed now, and, indeed, the houses are so crowded that i had made up my mind to sleep here, and i should recommend you to do the same. i see you have got a blanket with you. it will be much cooler and more pleasant than indoors." "i will do so gladly, frank. it will be a fresh luxury for me to see the stars overhead as i lie, and the sand is quite as soft as any of these italians beds are likely to be." frank had indeed slept out every night since the garibaldians first landed. it saved the trouble of endeavouring to find accommodation, and enabled him to have a swim every morning to refresh him for his day's work. day after day the garibaldians marched on without encountering resistance. it was indeed a procession rather than a military advance. the country was lovely, the weather superb. at each village they were saluted by numbers of the country people, who had come down to greet them. they were all armed, and numbers of them joined the garibaldians. they were, for the most part, of fine physique, with handsome faces, and the women of this coast were famous for their beauty. the greek element was still predominant, and in many of the villages no other language was spoken. in the towns, the national guard were drawn up to receive their deliverers with all honour, and the inhabitants of all classes vied with each other in their hospitality. frank had been unable to buy a horse, but had succeeded in purchasing a donkey, on which the professor sat placidly smoking as they went along, with one marching column or another. cosenz's division generally led the way, followed by those of medici and ebers, while bixio followed in the rear, his division having already had their share of glory in sicily and at reggio. the main neapolitan army, retiring from monteleone, passed through each town only a few hours ahead of the garibaldians. the people reported that great insubordination existed among them. general braganti had been shot by his own men at bagnara; the other generals were accused by their men of treachery, and great numbers of these had deserted; and the garibaldians felt that if they could but overtake the retreating foe victory was certain. orders had been sent round by garibaldi to all the villagers that the men were to meet him at maida; and leaving the army at two o'clock in the morning, he, with a few of his staff, rode across the mountain to that town. the calabrians, eager to fight, had obeyed the order, but with some disappointment; for had they been left to themselves they would have occupied the terrible gorges through which the retreating neapolitans would have to pass, and taking their posts among inaccessible hills, would have almost annihilated them. but garibaldi was on all occasions most anxious to prevent bloodshed, and would never fight unless his foes forced him to do so; and it was for this reason that he had ordered the calabrians to meet him at maida, thereby preventing them from occupying the pass. frank, as one of his aides-de-camp, rode with him, the professor preferring to move forward at the more comfortable pace of the marching column. ordering the calabrians to follow, garibaldi went on from maida to tyrola, situated on the backbone of the apennines, and commanding a view of the sea on either hand. arriving there, he found that the neapolitans were but a mile ahead. he therefore halted for an hour, and then rode seven miles farther to samprotro, where he saw the rearguard of the enemy not more than half a mile ahead. leaving a few armed peasants to watch them, garibaldi and his staff went quietly to bed. in the morning they again started in pursuit, at the head of two thousand calabrians. the peasants brought in news that the enemy had halted at a village seven miles ahead, and were endeavouring to obtain food. the calabrians, when they approached the place, were sent forward as skirmishers; the head of cosenz's column was now but a short distance in the rear. colonel peard, who had ridden with garibaldi, was in advance, with three calabrians, when, at a turn of the road, he came upon seven thousand infantry, cavalry, and artillery, huddled together without any appearance of regularity. he rode up at once to the nearest officers, and called upon them to surrender. they took him to ghio, their general, who, saying to peard that it was not customary to talk so loud before the soldiers, asked him to step aside; and on being told that he was surrounded, and had no choice between surrendering and being annihilated, he agreed at once to send an officer to garibaldi. while the officer was absent, the disposition of the troops manifested itself: many of them at once threw down their arms and accoutrements and started on the road, or made their way up the hill. in a few minutes the officer returned with garibaldi's conditions, which were surrender and disarmament, when the troops would be allowed to leave, on their promise not to serve again. in an hour there was not a neapolitan left in the place; and the garibaldians, who had marched thirty miles that day, halted to allow the rest of the troops to come up. there was, indeed, no further occasion for haste. it was morally certain that no battle would be fought before they reached naples. the neapolitan troops were hopelessly dispirited, and the greater part would gladly have thrown away their arms and returned to their homes; the minority, who were still faithful to their oath, were bitterly humiliated at the manner in which large bodies of men had surrendered without striking a blow, and at the way in which the main force fled, as hastily as if it had suffered a disgraceful defeat, at the approach of the garibaldians. already naples was almost in a state of insurrection; and in the other towns the whole populace had risen, and the neapolitan authorities were powerless. "it is wonderful," signor forli, who arrived on the following morning, said to frank, "that the calabrians should have remained passive for a couple of centuries under the rule of a people so much inferior to themselves. that sicily should do so, i am not surprised. its population is not to be compared in physique with these grand fellows. among the mountains of sicily, no doubt, there may be a finer type of people than those of the plains and sea-coast; but, as you have told me, although as pleased as a crowd of children at a new game, they did little to aid garibaldi to free them, and messina once taken, the number that enlisted with him was small indeed. here the population have joined to a man; and what splendid men they are! had they all risen together before, there would have been no need for a garibaldi. what could an army, however numerous, of the frivolous population of naples have done against them? "there are hundreds of passes and ravines. we have ourselves marched through a score that might have been held by a handful of determined men against an army. i believe that it is the fear of cannon rather than of soldiers that has enabled a decaying power, like that of naples, to maintain its hold. cannon would be useful in a mountainous country for those who have to defend the passes, but it is of little avail to an invader: it is notorious that, even on the plains, vastly more men are killed by bullets than by shell. one thing that no doubt has kept the calabrians from rising, as a body, is that blood feuds exist among them, as in corsica. the number of crosses that you have seen by the roadside mark the number of the victims of these quarrels. each little village stands apart from the rest, and there has been no centre round which the country could gather. there has been, in fact, a community of interest, but no community of feeling; and the consequence is, risings have been always partial, and there has been nothing like one determined effort by all calabria to win its freedom." chapter xvi. naples. the resemblance between colonel peard and garibaldi was so great that, being similarly dressed, the englishman, pushing on so far in advance, was everywhere taken for the general, and he utilised this likeness to the utmost. the news of his rapid approach hastened the retreat of the neapolitans. he sent fictitious telegrams to their generals as from private friends, magnifying garibaldi's forces, and representing that he was taking a line that would cut them off from naples, and so sent them hurrying away at full speed and adding to the alarm and confusion of the government. "i suppose we had better push on with garibaldi, grandfather?" frank said one day, as they finished an unusually long march. "certainly, frank," signor forli said, somewhat surprised; "we shall be in naples in another three or four days. i am sure garibaldi will not wait for his troops; he was saying to me yesterday that he was most anxious to enter the city, as he had notice from a friend that cavour's party were hard at work trying to organise a general rising of the city before he arrives, and the issue of a manifesto declaring victor emmanuel king of italy and inviting him to come at once. this garibaldi is determined not to allow. he has from the first always declared that he came in the name of the king, and that when his work was done he would hand over southern italy to him. you know his loyalty and absolute disinterestedness; and the idea that he would endeavour to obtain any advantage for himself is absurd. "if he had chosen, instead of accepting the dictatorship of sicily he could have been elected king; and assuredly it is the same thing here. he is the people's hero and saviour; the very name of the king of sardinia is scarcely known in sicily, and excites no interest whatever. it is the same thing in calabria: the enthusiasm is all for garibaldi, and had he consented to accept the crown he would have been elected unanimously. his wish and hope is to present to victor emmanuel southern italy cleared of all enemies, complete and undivided; and yet, rather than so receive it, cavour, farina, and the rest of them are intriguing at naples, as they intrigued in sicily, in order that the king should appear to take this wide accession of territory as the expression of the will of the people, and not from the hand of garibaldi. "it is pitiful to see such mean jealousy. in time, no doubt, even had there not been a garibaldi, this would have come about, but it might have been fifteen or twenty years hence; and had it been done by means of a royal army, france and austria would probably both have interfered and demanded compensation, and so left italy still incomplete. it is the speed with which the change has been effected, and i may say the admiration with which europe has viewed it, and the assurance of the government at turin that it has had no hand in this business, but has taken all means in its power to prevent it, that has paralysed opposition. i trust that all these intrigues will fail, and that garibaldi may have the sole honour that he craves--namely, that of presenting the kingdom of the two sicilies to victor emmanuel. should cavour's intrigues succeed, and garibaldi be slighted, it will be the blackest piece of ingratitude history has ever recorded. however, why do you ask 'shall we go on to naples?' i thought that you were burning to get there." "i am; but you see we are passing, without time for making any investigations, many places where my father, if alive, may be in prison. at potenza, for example, i know that a large number of political prisoners are confined, and doubtless it is the same at many other towns. i cannot bear to think of the possibility that he may be in one of these, and that we have passed him by." "i can quite understand your feelings, frank; but you know we are agreed that it is at naples we shall most probably find him, if he is still alive. bad as the prisons may be in other places, they are more loosely managed; there would be fewer conveniences for keeping one prisoner apart from the others, while there are ample opportunities in those of naples for many to be kept in secret confinement. certainly i was so kept myself at reggio; but that was a royal fortress, and though used as a prison for political offenders, there were no malefactors there. in the jails in the provincial towns this could not be so, and i know that prisoners are all mixed up together, save those who can afford to pay, who can live in comparative comfort, while the rest are herded together anyhow, and can scarcely exist upon the rations allowed to them. the more i think of it, the more i am convinced that it is at naples that we must look for your father. now that we have arrived at salerno, and that, as we hear, the neapolitan troops are falling back from the capital, and taking up their position round capua and gaeta, there can be little doubt that garibaldi will, in a day or two, go forward. there is, indeed, nothing to prevent you and me from going by train there to-morrow, if you lay aside that red shirt and scarf, and dress in clothes that will attract no attention. but i do not see that anything would be gained by it; you will still have to wait until garibaldi is supreme there, and his orders are respected, and you may be sure that, as soon as he is in power, his first step will be to throw open the prisons and release all who are charged with political offences, to order these hideous dungeons to be permanently closed, and to thoroughly reorganise the system. you have told me that he did this at palermo, and he will certainly do the same at naples." four days later the king issued a farewell notice to the people, and left naples for gaeta; and three hours afterwards romano, his minister, who had drawn up his farewell, addressed the following telegram to garibaldi:-- "to the invincible dictator of the two sicilies.--naples expects you with anxiety to confide to you her future destiny.--entirely yours, liborio romano." a subsequent letter informed him that at a meeting of the ministers it had been decided that the prince of alessandria, syndic of naples, should go to salerno, with the commander of the national guard, to make the arrangements for his entry into the capital. garibaldi, however, did not wait. were he to arrive at the head of his troops, the neapolitan garrisons of the castle and other strong places in the city might oppose him by force; and, as ever, wishing to avoid bloodshed, he determined to rely solely upon the populace of naples. he at once ordered a small special train to be prepared. "i am only taking with me," he said to frank, "a few of my staff. you will be one of the number: you have a right to it, not only as the representative of your mother, to whose aid we are largely indebted for our being now here, but for your own personal services. signor forli shall also go: he stood by me on the walls of rome twelve years ago, he has suffered much for his principles, he is your mother's father, therefore he too shall come." there were but four carriages on the little train that left at nine o'clock in the morning on the th of september for naples. cosenz, and thirteen members of the staff, represented the national army; the remaining seats being occupied by various personal friends and two or three newspaper correspondents. "'tis an affair not without risk," signor forli said to frank, as they walked towards the station. "that the people will receive garibaldi with enthusiasm is certain, but the attitude of the troops is very doubtful. certainly the flower of the neapolitan army will have been left in garrison at naples; and if but a score of these remain faithful to the bourbons, garibaldi's life may be sacrificed. however, i cannot believe that providence will permit one who has done so great and mighty a work to perish, just at the moment of the completion of his enterprise." the station-master at salerno, as soon as the train had started, flashed the news to the various stations on the road; and the consequence was, that at every village the people assembled, and when half the journey was done the crowds were so vast, that they overflowed on to the line, and the train was brought to a standstill. national guards climbed on to the roofs of the carriages, and decorated them with flags and evergreens. at torre del greco, resina, and portici, progress became almost impossible, and the train had to proceed at a snail's pace to naples. here the authorities had prevented all access to the station, but outside the scene was an extraordinary one: horses and carriages, men and women of the highest and of the lowest classes; national guards and gendarmes, members of bertani's and the cavourian committees, were all crowded in confusion together. the houses were decorated with flags and tapestry, and thronged with eager spectators from basement to roof; and as missori and three others rode out from the station on horseback, followed by garibaldi in an open carriage with cosenz, and by a dozen other carriages containing his staff and those who had arrived with him, the roar of welcome was overpowering. it was with the greatest difficulty that the horsemen cleared the way; for all along the road the crowd was as great as at the station. the attitude of the troops, however, at the various points where they were massed, was sullen and threatening. at castel nuovo the guns were pointed on the road; the troops stood ready to fire. one shot, and the course of history might have been changed. garibaldi ordered his coachman to drive slower, and sat in his carriage calmly, with his eyes fixed upon the troops. one officer gave the order to fire; but he was not obeyed. the calmness and daring of the lion-like face filled the soldiers with such admiration that, for the moment, their hostility evaporated; and while some of them saluted as if to a royal personage, others took off their hats and burst into a cheer. garibaldi acknowledged it by lifting his hat, and by a cheery wave of his hand, and drove on as calmly as before. in the carriages behind, all had held their breath at the critical moment. "what an escape! what an escape!" signor forli murmured to frank, who was sitting next to him. "had but one musket been fired, we should all have been dead men in a minute or two; and, what is of more consequence, the freeing of italy must have been postponed for twenty years." "it was horribly close," frank said. "i would rather go through ten hand-to-hand fights, than another time like the last three minutes; it has made me feel quite queer, and i own that what you say about putting back italian freedom for twenty years never entered my mind. the one thought i had was, that we were all going to be smashed up without having the chance of striking a single blow. i went through some pretty sharp fighting at palermo, but i was always doing something then, and did not think of the danger. i don't mind saying that i was in a blue funk just now." garibaldi drove straight, as was the custom of kings on first entering naples, to the palace of the archbishop. here the te deum was sung; and he then went on to the palace of angri, where he and his staff took up their quarters. vast crowds assembled outside the palace, and the general had to appear again and again on the balcony in reply to the roars of acclamation from the enthusiastic population. general cosenz, who was himself a neapolitan, was appointed to organise a government. this he did to the general satisfaction--moderate men only being chosen. garibaldi requested admiral persano in the name of victor emmanuel to take command of the neapolitan navy, decreeing that it should form part of the sardinian squadron; and appointed to the pro-dictatorship the marquis of pallavicini, a staunch friend of the king. he had offered signor forli an apartment in the palace, and as soon as the first excitement had ceased the latter said to frank, who had at salerno received the portmanteau he had left at genoa:-- "let us go out and see the state of the city. but before we do so, you had best put on your ordinary clothes: we should simply be mobbed if you were to go out as one of garibaldi's officers." "yes; we have had quite enough of that as we came along," frank said. "it will really be a comfort to go about for once in peace and quiet." they started in a few minutes, leaving the palace by one of the side entrances, and soon mingled in the crowd. the people seemed half mad with delight. as soon as the news of garibaldi's arrival spread through the town every house was decorated, and the whole population poured out into the streets. among the better classes the joy that the government of the bourbons had come to an end, and that the constitutional government, which had done so much for northern italy, would succeed the despotism which had pressed so heavily on all with anything to lose, was deep and sincere. among the lower classes the enthusiasm manifested was but the excitement of some few minutes, and had francesco returned a month later, at the head of his victorious troops, they would have shouted as lustily. it was a fête, a special fête, and it mattered but little to the fickle and excitable population what was its cause. but here, as on all occasions when italian people give way to bursts of enthusiasm, foreigners were struck with the perfect good-temper, the orderly behaviour, and the entire absence of drunkenness, among the population. in paris the first step of people excited by a change of government would have been to fall upon those whom they considered to be the agents of their oppressors. the gendarmes, who had so long been feared, would not have dared show themselves in the streets; the emblems of royalty would have been torn down in the public buildings; the members of the last government would have been forced to fly for their lives. there was a little of this in naples, but, as in venice, six years later, this feeling of animosity for the past speedily passed away. but how faint was the feeling of real patriotism in the minds of the neapolitans is shown by the fact that only one inhabitant of the city joined garibaldi's army; that not a single house was open for the reception of his officers or soldiers; that after the battle of volturno hundreds of wounded men were left lying all day on the pavements without aid or nourishment, without a single mattress being found for them to lie upon, by the inhabitants. never, except by the king of italy and the civil and military authorities of piedmont to garibaldi and his followers, who had won a kingdom for them, was such national ingratitude displayed as by the people of naples. "it is pleasant to see," signor forli said, as he and frank wandered about; "but it would be far more pleasant if one did not know that it means absolutely nothing. you have told me that it was the same thing at messina: that, in spite of garibaldi's appeal to the ladies of the place, they did nothing whatever to aid the wounded in the hospitals--never contributed so much as a piece of lint or material for bandages; and, frivolous as the people there are, these in naples are worse. if all italy were like the neapolitans, the country would not be worth shedding a drop of blood for. however, one must make some allowances for them. for centuries they have been slaves rather than free people; they have had no voice as to their own disposal, they could not express even an opinion on public affairs, without risking imprisonment or death; there has been nothing left for them but to amuse themselves; they have been treated like children at school, and they have become children. we can only hope that in time, under a free government, they will grow worthy of freedom, worthy of forming a part of an italy to which the lombards, the piedmontese, and the calabrians belong." it was already late in the afternoon, and until some of the troops arrived it would be impossible to take any steps with relation to public buildings. the castle of st. elmo, and the prison of santa maria, with many other places, were still in the hands of the neapolitan soldiers, whose attitude continued to be hostile, and until these retired nothing could be done; and it was by no means certain that the guns at st. elmo, which completely commanded the town, might not at any moment open fire. "i can well understand your impatience to get rid of these troops from the city," garibaldi said the next morning. "i do not forget, percival, the main object that you had in view, and i too long for the time when i may clasp the hand of my old comrade of south america and rome. i promise you that the moment the prisons are evacuated you shall go with the party who will search them, and search them strictly. you know what these jailors are: they are the creatures of the worst men of francesco's government. by years of cruelty and oppression they have earned for themselves the hatred of every one within the walls of the prisons and of their friends and relatives. our victory means their dismissal--that is, as soon as the prisons are cleaned from the lowest dungeons to the roofs. that they shall superintend: it is they who are responsible for it, and they themselves shall be engaged in the work of purification. it may well be that they will try to hide the lowest and worst dungeons from our search, partly from fear that the natural and righteous indignation excited by the discoveries may end in their being promptly punished with death for their accumulated crimes, partly in hopes that the royal troops may yet overcome us and restore francesco to his throne; in which case they would receive approval for still retaining some of the worst victims of the tyranny of his government." "you may be sure that i shall search them thoroughly, general." on going out, they found the streets were still thronged by an almost frenzied populace. these invaded the hotels and cafés, and pressed all they could lay hands on to join in the demonstrations. a few murders were perpetrated; the state of things prevailing affording an excellent opportunity for satisfying private revenge, as it needed only a cry that the victim was a spy of the government to justify it in the eyes of the bystanders. in the quarter nearest to st. elmo the enthusiasm had a good deal cooled down, as the fear that the guns of the castle might at any moment open fire for the time dissipated any desire for marching about and acclaiming garibaldi. at four o'clock, however, it was known that two officers of the castle had gone down to the palace, and at six the welcome news spread that the garrison had capitulated, and would march out on the following morning. frank had little sleep that night. all along his hopes had been high that he should find his father here; but now that the question would be so soon decided, his fears were in the ascendant. he remembered that the evidence in favour of his father's death was extremely strong, the only hopeful fact being that his body had not been discovered. so slight did even his mother and signora forli deem the chance of his being alive, that for two years neither had breathed a word to the other as to the existence of a possibility that he might be still living. undoubtedly the release of his grandfather had increased his own hope, but he felt now that there was but small ground for the feeling. had his father been hidden away in a fortress, he might also have survived; but the probabilities seemed altogether against this. it was not until midday that st. elmo was evacuated, and several companies of the national guard marched in. a colonel of the staff had, with frank, been charged with the duty of searching the dungeons. they had brought with them fifty lazzaroni, who had been engaged for this repulsive work. a dozen of the garibaldian troops were to accompany them; the prison officials were all ordered to go with the party, and they, as well as the lazzaroni, were told to bring pails and brooms. the castle of st. elmo covers an area of no less than four acres; it was cut out of the solid rock, and is surrounded by a sunken ditch, sixty or seventy feet deep, and fifty wide. this great mass of stone is honeycombed in every direction with a network of corridors and subterranean apartments, and there is ample space to hold several thousand prisoners. the upper tiers of chambers were fairly clean; these were, in fact, the barracks of the troops. the guns looked out from embrasures. several batteries of field artillery, with waggons and all fittings, still remained there, and the chambers were littered with rubbish of all kinds, discarded by the troops before leaving. it was not here that prisoners were to be found. the national guard had already opened the doors of the cells and chambers in the stage below, and had liberated those confined there; the work of searching those still lower began at once. the extent was so vast and the windings were so intricate that the work seemed interminable. in order to make sure that each passage had been searched, a pail of whitewash was sent for, and a splash made at each turning. each story was darker, and the air more stifling, than that above it, for they were now far below the level of the castle itself. frank had taken the advice of signor forli, and had bought several bundles of the strongest cigars; and he and the officer in command, the officer of the national guard who attended them and the soldiers all smoked incessantly. at the worst places the lazzaroni and turnkeys were set to work with their buckets and brooms. it was not until late in the evening that they came to the conclusion that every cell and chamber had been searched. about a hundred and fifty prisoners had been found and released, but among them frank looked in vain for his father. the lowest dungeons of all had been found empty; and this, and the solemn assurances of all the prison officials, who had been threatened with instant death should further search discover any prisoners, convinced him that at any rate his father was not there. the next day the neighbouring prison of santa maria was searched. it had formerly been a monastery, and the upper cells were lofty and capacious. the jailors declared, indeed, that these were the only cells, but a careful search showed a door in the rock. this was burst open, and a series of subterranean passages was discovered. the jailors declared that these had never been used in their time, and, they believed, never before. that they had been used, however, was evident, from the marks where lamps had been hung on the walls, and by many other signs. no prisoners were found here, all having been released directly it was known that the garrison of the castle had capitulated. the search occupied the whole day, so extensive were the underground galleries; and a passage was discovered that evidently at one time formed a communication between st. elmo and this prison. as he came out into daylight, frank staggered, and would have fallen had not one of the soldiers caught him. he had been ill the night before; and the effects of the close air, noxious smells, and the work, which had been even more trying than on the previous day, and his bitter disappointment, had now completely overcome him. after some water had been dashed in his face and he had taken a draught of some wine which one of the prison officials fetched, he partially recovered. he was assisted by two of the garibaldians down the road to the town, and then, obtaining a vehicle, was driven to the palace, and managed with assistance to get up to his apartment. a minute or two later signor forli joined him, one of the attendants having summoned him as soon as frank arrived. "do not trouble to speak, my dear boy," he said. frank was lying on the bed sobbing convulsively. "you have failed--that i can well understand; but you must not altogether lose heart. we had thought this the most likely place; but there are still other prisons, and we will not give up hope until every one of these has been ransacked. i am sorry now that i did not accompany you, but i am afraid, after what i have gone through myself, that only a few minutes in one of those places would overpower me; and i wonder how you, young and strong as you are, were able to spend two days in such an atmosphere." "i shall be better to-morrow," frank said. "that last place was awful; but i think that it was as much the strong tobacco, as those horrible stinks, which upset me. it was a choice of two evils; but i would smoke even worse tobacco if i could get it, if i had to go through it again." "i will get you a glass of brandy and water, frank; that will do you more good than anything." the next morning frank was still too unwell to be able to get up; his failure had completely broken him down, and he felt indisposed to make the slightest exertion. at twelve o'clock, however, signor forli came in. "i have a piece of news to give you," he said, "news which affords us some shadow of hope that you have not failed altogether. last night i was talking with the general and one or two of his staff. garibaldi is, as you know, intensely interested in your search, and sympathises with you most warmly. suddenly he said, 'is it not possible that he may have been removed before the king and his court retired?' had percival been found in the prisons, it would have rendered the bad faith and mendacity of the government more glaring than ever, and would have deprived it of any little sympathy that was felt for it in england. therefore, feeling sure that the prisons would be searched as soon as i entered, percival, had he been here, may, with other special prisoners, have been sent to capua, which is so strongly fortified a place that they may well believe it to be impregnable to anything but a long siege by troops possessing a battering train." [illustration: "it was not until nullo ordered four men to load ... that he would answer"] frank sat up. "that is indeed a good idea," he exclaimed. "how stupid of me not to have thought of questioning the prison people! yes; it is quite likely that if any of the prisoners were removed, he would be one of them." "i have no doubt you would have thought of it, frank, if it had not been that you were completely upset by that strong tobacco. mind, i don't blame you for taking it: it is better to be poisoned with nicotine than by the stenches of a neapolitan prison. the thought only struck garibaldi after we had chatted over the matter for some time. i went over there this morning with colonel nullo. although the officials at first asserted that no prisoners had been taken away, they soon recovered their memories when he said that he would interrogate every one of the warders separately, and if he found that any prisoners had been sent away he would have them taken out into the courtyard and shot for lying to him. they then remembered that four prisoners had been taken away, but all declared with adjurations to all the saints that they did not know who they were: they were delivered over to them under numbers only. one had been there seven years, and two had been there five years, and one two years. again threatening to examine all the turnkeys, he learned that the last prisoner received had been confined in one of the lower dungeons, where they yesterday asserted that no one had for years been imprisoned; the other three were also kept in the most rigid seclusion, but in the upper cells. "i insisted on seeing the man who had attended on the prisoner kept in the lower cell. he was a surly ruffian, and it was not until nullo ordered four men to load, and to put the fellow with his back to the wall, that he would answer my questions. he said then that the prisoner was, he should say, between forty and fifty, but it was not easy to judge of age after a man had been below there for a few months. he had never said more than a few words to him, and it had never struck him that he was not an italian. i questioned him more closely as to this, and he admitted that he had sometimes, when he went down, heard the prisoner singing. he had listened, but could not understand the words, and they might have been in a foreign language. he had no more interest in that prisoner than in any other. he supposed, by his being sent down below there, that it was hoped he would die off as soon as possible. they seldom lived many months in those dungeons, but this man seemed tougher than usual, though his strength had failed a good deal lately. he was able to walk up from his cell to the carriage when he was taken away. now we mustn't feel too sanguine, frank, but although there is no proof that this prisoner is your father, the evidence, so far as it goes, is rather in favour of such a supposition than against it." "it is indeed," frank said eagerly. "the fact that they put him down into the cells where, as the man says, it was almost certain he would soon die, and that when it was found that he had not done so, he was at the last moment taken away, shows that there was some very strong motive for preventing the fact that he was a prisoner becoming public; and we know that they had the very strongest reason in the case of my father. the age would be about right, and the fact that he was singing would show, at any rate, that it was some one who was determined not to give in, but to keep up his spirits till the very last, and i am sure my father would have done that. well, i will get up now. i could not lie here quietly; it would be impossible, after what you have been telling me." "i think you are right, frank. i will have a basin of soup sent in for you. when you have eaten that, and dressed, we will take a carriage and go for a long drive by the road along the shore to pompeii. the sea-breeze will do you more good than anything, and the lovely view, and a stroll through pompeii itself, will distract your thoughts. there is nothing to be done until capua is taken, which may not be for a long time yet. however, events are moving. we hear that victor emmanuel and his government, alarmed at the success of garibaldi, and feeling that if they are to have any voice in the matter they must not be content to rest passive while he is carrying all before him, have resolved upon taking some part in the affair. under the pretext that in order to restore peace and order it is necessary that they should interfere, they are about to despatch an army to ancona by sea; and, landing there, will advance into central italy, and act, as they say, as circumstances may demand. all of which means, that now garibaldi has pulled the chestnuts out of the fire for them they will proceed to appropriate them." "it is too bad!" frank exclaimed angrily. "no doubt it is mean and ungracious in the extreme, but garibaldi will not feel it as other men would; he is human, and therefore he would like to present the kingdom of naples and the states of rome, free from the foreigner, to victor emmanuel. but that feeling, natural as it is, is but secondary to his loyalty to italy. he desires to see her one under victor emmanuel, and so long as that end is achieved he cares comparatively little how it comes about. moreover, he cannot but see that, though he has accomplished marvels, that which remains to be done would tax the power of his army to the utmost. the neapolitans have still some seventy thousand men, who are encouraged by their king being among them. they have in capua a most formidable fortress, which could defy the efforts of irregular troops, wholly unskilled in sieges and deficient in heavy guns, for many months. moreover, it would no longer be mountain warfare, but we should have to fight in plains where the enemy's cavalry would give them an enormous advantage. there is another thing: the intrigues of cavour's agents here are already giving him very serious trouble, and this will doubtless increase; therefore i can well understand that he will be glad rather than otherwise that sardinia at last should do her part towards the freeing of italy, from which she will benefit so vastly." chapter xvii. the battle of the volturno. before starting for his drive frank telegraphed to his mother: "have not found him here. i do not yet despair. have a faint clue that may lead to something." that evening he wrote a long letter, acknowledging that he had been bitterly disappointed, but saying that signor forli had found out that some of the prisoners had been sent away to capua before garibaldi entered the town, and that he still hoped his father might be among the number. he gave no detail as to these prisoners, for he was anxious not to raise hopes that might not be fulfilled; indeed, he had in all his letters said little on the subject. he knew his mother had refused to allow herself to cherish any hope, and he had written almost entirely of matters concerning the events of the march, the country through which he had travelled, and the scenes in which he had taken a part. he and signor forli had at salerno received long letters from home full of the delight which the news of the discovery and release of the latter had given them. his mother had said:-- "this is a joy indeed, my boy--one that i had never expected, or even hoped for. but do not let yourself anticipate for a moment that because this unlooked-for happiness has been given to us our other dear lost one will similarly be recovered. that my father had been thrown into a neapolitan prison we never doubted for a moment; and i believed that, should he have survived, garibaldi's success would open his prison doors. but it is not so in the case of your father. the evidence is almost overwhelming that he died in the hands of the brigands who carried him off, and nothing short of knowing that he is alive will induce me to abandon the conviction i have all along felt that this was so. i pray you not to indulge in any false hopes, which can but end in bitter disappointment. you will, of course, search until absolutely convinced that he is not in any of the prisons of the country. the search will at least have been useful, for it will remove the last dread which, in spite of myself, i have occasionally felt ever since he has been missing, that he has been wearing his life out in one of these horrible dungeons." the next ten days passed slowly. frank and the other members of the staff had bought fresh horses a few days after the capture of reggio; and he was now constantly in the saddle, carrying messages between garibaldi's headquarters and the army. garibaldi himself had been distracted by the intrigues going on around him, and had been obliged to go to sicily. depretis, who had been appointed head of the government there, was inclined to the annexational policy, which was opposed by crispi and the other garibaldians, and the consequence was that an alarming state of affairs existed there. garibaldi was therefore obliged to hurry over there himself, and having appointed mordeni, a determined partisan of his own, pro-dictator, and arranged affairs generally, he returned to naples, where his presence was urgently required. [illustration: position round capua] the neapolitan army at capua had been very largely reinforced, and had taken post along the river volturno. turr, who was in command of the garibaldian army, had in consequence, taken up a defensive position at madelone, caserta and aversa, thereby barring any advance on the part of the royal army. the latter's position was an extremely formidable one: its right rested on gaeta near the sea, and forty thousand men were massed on the right bank of the volturno, a river which was here from fifty to a hundred yards in width, their left was at cajazzo, in the mountains of the abruzzi, where the inhabitants were favourable to the royal cause. capua itself, on the left bank of the river, afforded them a means of moving forward to the attack of the garibaldians. three sides of its fortifications were surrounded by the river, which here makes a great loop, and around the town twenty thousand men were massed, one half of whom were in position in front of it. the only bridge across the river was at capua, but there was a ferry near caserta. the position was so threatening that turr, who had under him about seventeen thousand men, pushed a force up to the town of santa maria and the heights of sant'angelo, both of which points were occupied after a skirmish. on the th, six hundred men were sent off to march far up the river, to cross it, and to throw themselves into the mountains above cajazzo, which was occupied by two thousand two hundred men with four guns. garibaldi arrived at caserta on the night of the th, but did not interfere with turr's command. in order to attract the attention of the enemy, and keep them from sending reinforcements to cajazzo, it was arranged that a feint should be made against capua: two battalions were to advance from aversa to menace the southwest of that town, six battalions were to advance directly against it from santa maria, and ebor's brigade was to march to sant'angelo, and then to drive the neapolitans on their left into capua, and to extend on the right along the hills as far as the road to cajazzo. the movement was completely successful. cajazzo was captured, and the force in front of capua obliged to retire under the guns of the citadel. some loss, however, was sustained, owing to the division from santa maria, instead of returning as soon as the work was done, being kept for four hours under the fire of the guns of the fortress, owing to a misconception of orders. the positions now taken were occupied in strength. the next day, six hundred and fifty men were sent off to cajazzo to strengthen the small force of three hundred there, as the place was attacked by no fewer than twelve thousand neapolitan troops. although without artillery, the town was desperately defended for four hours. the barricades at the end of the main streets were held, in spite of repeated attacks and the fire from eight guns. not until two hundred of the little force had fallen, did the garibaldians fall back, and they succeeded in crossing the river at the ferry, covered by two companies and a couple of guns, which had been posted at that point to prevent the neapolitans from crossing. there was an interval now: the garibaldians were far too weak to attack their numerous enemy, posted in an almost impregnable position. garibaldi was so much harassed by the political intriguers, that he left caserta every morning long before daybreak, and remained the whole day at a cottage on the heights of san antonio. he had already done all in his power to satisfy the royal party that he had no intention of favouring a republic. bertram, who had done so much for him as chief organiser and agent, was requested to leave rome. mazzini also was sent away, and other appointments were made, showing how bent he was on handing over his conquest to victor emmanuel. there can be no doubt now that it would have been far better had he from the first abandoned his wish not to present his conquests to the king until they were completed. had he, on his arrival at messina, at once declared victor emmanuel king of the island, and requested him to take possession, he would have allayed the jealousy and suspicion with which his movements were viewed by cavour and the piedmontese ministry. a similar course, as soon as naples was occupied, would have had a still greater effect, and both garibaldi himself and his brave followers would have been spared the bitter humiliations and the gross display of ingratitude, which, however, disgraced those who inflicted them far more than those so undeservedly treated. turr remained idle during the next six days, and beyond throwing up two or three small intrenchments, did nothing to strengthen the position. in fact, it was daily becoming more probable that there would be no further fighting. cialdini's division had landed near alcona, had defeated the army of lamoriciere, and was advancing westwards without opposition. fanti, with another army, had crossed the northern frontier of the neapolitan territory, and was marching south. thus, in a short time, the neapolitans would be surrounded by three armies, and would be forced to lay down their arms. on the th it became evident that a considerable movement was in progress on the other side of the river and fort. forty thousand men were being concentrated at capua and cajazzo. garibaldi's force, available in case of attack, was about twenty-four thousand men, of whom thirteen thousand were northern italians, eleven thousand calabrians and sicilians, and one inhabitant of naples. of these, two thousand five hundred were with conti at aversa, and over seven thousand at caserta; the remainder being at santa maria, sant'angelo, the village of santa lucia, and madalone. the position occupied was nearly thirty miles long, but the reserves at caserta and madalone, lying behind the centre, could be despatched speedily to any point required. frank had come out with garibaldi to caserta, and spent the whole of his time riding between the different points occupied, with communications from garibaldi to his generals. at three o'clock on the morning of october st, garibaldi started as usual for the front. frank, with two or three of the younger staff-officers, rode, and three carriages carried the general and the older members of the staff. they had scarcely left the town when a scattered fire of musketry was heard near santa maria. this rapidly increased in volume; and soon afterwards the guns at sant'angelo opened vigorously. when approaching the town, a mounted soldier, riding at a furious gallop, overtook them. he was the bearer of a message that a telegram had just been received from bixio, who was in command at madalone, saying that he was being assailed in great force. this was even more serious than the attack in front, for, if successful, it would have cut the communication between the garibaldians and naples. galloping on to santa maria, garibaldi sent a telegram to sartori, who commanded at caserta, to tell him to hold a brigade in readiness to support bixio if the latter was pressed; and that turr, with the rest of the reserves, was to hold himself in readiness to move to the front, but was only to send forward a single brigade, till quite assured of bixio's success. at santa maria were the greater part of the old cacciatori, with four thousand other good troops, and garibaldi felt confident that the town was in no danger of being taken. he accordingly started at once for sant'angelo, which was the key of his position. morning had broken now, but a heavy mist, rising from the low ground near the river, rendered it impossible to see more than a few yards. the din of conflict was prodigious. the garibaldian guns at santa maria kept up a desultory fire, answered by those of the neapolitans, and the rattle of musketry was incessant ahead, and, as it seemed, the fight was raging all round; but it was impossible to tell whether santa lucia and other posts to the right were also attacked. suddenly a volley was fired from an invisible enemy within a hundred yards. the balls whistled overhead. "this is uncomfortable," frank said to the officer riding next to him. "they have evidently broken through our line connecting sant'angelo with santa maria. if we had had a few earthworks thrown up this would not have happened. now they will be able to take sant'angelo in rear; and, what is much more important, we may at any moment run right into the middle of them, and the loss of garibaldi would be more serious than that of all our positions put together." the neapolitans had indeed issued out in three columns. one of them, pushing out under cover of the deep water-courses, had broken through the weak line, had captured a battery of four guns and a barricade, and had then mounted one of the spurs of tifata and taken sant'angelo in rear; while a second column, attacking it in front, had captured another four-gun battery and a barricade two hundred and fifty yards below the village on the capua road, and had taken two or three hundred prisoners, the rest of medici's division taking up their position in and around the abbey, which stood on the hillside above the village. [illustration: map of the battle of the volturno october .] three of the guides, who had accompanied garibaldi to carry messages, and the three mounted staff officers, took their place in front of the carriages in readiness to charge should they come suddenly upon the enemy, and so give time to their occupants to escape. the horses were all galloping at full speed; and though occasionally caught sight of by the enemy, and exposed to a fire, not only of musketry but of round shot, they remained uninjured until two-thirds of the distance to sant'angelo, which garibaldi believed to be still in possession of his troops, had been covered. presently, however, they saw, but sixty or seventy yards away, a strong body of neapolitans on the road. "turn off to the right!" garibaldi shouted. as the carriage left the road a round shot struck one of the horses. garibaldi and the other occupants at once jumped out, and shouting to the carriages behind to follow them, ran across the fields. fortunately there was a deep watercourse close by; and the others, leaving their carriages, all ran down into this. the mist was too thick for the movement to be observed, and the neapolitans kept up a heavy fire in the direction in which they had seen the carriages through the mist. as soon as they entered the watercourse garibaldi told frank and his companions to dismount, as, although the bank was high enough to conceal the men on foot, those on horseback could be seen above it. all ran along at the top of their speed. as they did so, frank told his companions and the guides, if they came upon any force of the enemy, to throw themselves into their saddles again and charge, so as to give time to the general to turn off and escape. they had gone but a few hundred yards when a party of the enemy, who were standing on the left bank of the watercourse, ran suddenly down into it. frank and the others sprang into their saddles, and with a shout rode at them; there was a hurried discharge of musketry, and then they were in the midst of the neapolitans. these were but some twenty in number. they had already emptied their muskets, but for a minute there was a hand-to-hand contest. the horsemen first used their revolvers with deadly effect, and then fell on with their swords so fiercely that the survivors of their opponents scrambled out of the watercourse and fled, just as garibaldi and his staff ran up to take part in the conflict. it was well for the general that he had found the road to the village blocked, for, had he ridden straight on, he must have been captured by the enemy, who were already in full possession of it, with the exception of the abbey church and a few houses round it, and the slope of the hill. two of the mounted party were missing. one of the guides had fallen when the neapolitans fired, and an officer had been killed by the thrust of a bayonet. one of garibaldi's party was also missing; but whether he had been killed by a chance shot or had fallen behind and been taken prisoner none knew. as they ascended the slope of the hill they got above the mist, and could now see what had happened. a part of the column that had broken through the line of outposts had pressed on some distance, and then moved to its left, until in the rear of sant'angelo, where its attack had taken the defenders wholly by surprise. the force had then mounted the hill, and from there opened fire upon the defenders of the abbey and the houses round it. these were stoutly held. the houses were solidly-built structures in which resided the priests and servitors of the church, and the only road leading up from the village to it was swept by two twenty-four-pounders, while from the windows of the houses and from the roof of the abbey a steady musketry fire was maintained. garibaldi ordered frank to gallop to the pass, a short distance behind the village, where two companies of genoese carbineers and two mountain howitzers were posted, and to direct them to mount the hill and take up a position on the heights above that occupied by the enemy. with a cheer the men ran forward as soon as they received the order. ignorant of what was taking place in front, but certain from the roar of battle that it was raging round the village, they had been eager to advance to take part in the struggle; but their orders to hold the pass had been imperative, as their presence here was indispensable to cover the retreat of the garibaldians in sant'angelo, and to check pursuit until reinforcements came up from the rear. the movement was unobserved by the enemy, who were fully occupied in their attempts to capture the abbey; and it was not until the two companies were established on a ridge well above that occupied by the neapolitans, and opened a heavy musketry fire, aided by their two guns, that the latter were aware that they had been taken in rear. their position was altogether untenable, as they were unable to reply effectively to the fire of their opponents, and, descending the slopes, they joined their comrades in the village. several desperate attacks were made upon the abbey, but each was repulsed with heavy loss; and as the carbineers had now moved lower down, and their guns commanded the village, the neapolitans lost heart and fell back. a battalion of garibaldi's bersaglieri now came up. they were commanded by colonel wyndham, and occupied the village as the neapolitans fell back, quickened their retreat, and then, descending to the four-gun battery that had first been taken, turned the guns, which the enemy had forgotten to spike, upon them. in the meantime the fighting had been fierce round santa maria. at first the garibaldians had been hard pressed, and the neapolitans had carried all before them, until they came under the fire of the batteries placed on the railway and in front of the gate facing capua. these were well served, and although the assailants several times advanced with both cavalry and infantry, they never succeeded in getting within a hundred yards of the guns. the left wing, however, swept round the town, and captured all the out-buildings, except a farmhouse, which was gallantly defended by a company of frenchmen. on the right the neapolitans fared still more badly, for when their attack upon the battery failed, the garibaldian force at san tamaro, nearly three thousand five hundred strong, advanced and took them in flank, and drove them back with heavy loss. by eight o'clock the attack had ceased all along the line; but as the enemy, while falling back, preserved good order, no attempt was made to follow them. the battle had lasted four hours, and the garibaldians were now strengthened by the arrival of a brigade with four guns from caserta, where the news had just arrived that bixio was confident of being able to hold his ground at madalone. two of the newly-arrived regiments were ordered to endeavour to reopen communications with sant'angelo, and fighting went on with the force still threatening santa maria; these, after suffering heavy loss, the garibaldians, at ten o'clock, drove some distance back, and captured three guns and many prisoners. at eleven a fresh attack was made, count trani, one of the king's brothers, having brought some fresh battalions from the town. this attack was also repulsed, the garibaldians maintaining their strong positions. but the neapolitan troops were still full of spirit, and at a quarter-past one made another determined effort: their field batteries advanced within three hundred yards of the town, and their cavalry charged almost up to the railway battery, but were received with so heavy an infantry fire by the troops protecting the guns, that they were forced to fall back. the infantry, however, pressed on, covered by a storm of fire from their field artillery, while the guns of capua aided them by firing shell into the town. the garibaldians serving the guns at the gate and at the railway suffered very heavily, but volunteers from the infantry regiments took their place, although at one time their fire was arrested by the explosion of a magazine which killed many of the men, and dismounted two or three of the guns. all this time, fighting was going on fiercely round sant'angelo. the two regiments that had been sent out from santa maria to open communications with the village had been unable to effect their object, the enemy's force being too strong for them to move far from the town. at eleven o'clock, the neapolitans being largely reinforced, made a fresh attack on the battery and barricades in front of sant'angelo, and an obstinate struggle took place here; but superior force triumphed, and the royal troops again captured the battery, killing or taking prisoners almost the whole of the force that defended it. infantry and cavalry then advanced against the village; but the garibaldians, having their leader among them, fought with extraordinary bravery, and for three hours maintained themselves, as did those in the abbey, although the enemy brought up their cannon and rocket batteries to within a short distance of it. the walls of the abbey were, however, so massive that even the artillery failed to make much impression upon them. seeing that the assault upon santa maria had been repulsed, garibaldi sallied out with his entire force, retook the houses that had been captured by the enemy, drove them back to the battery, and at last captured this also. knowing that some of the reserve would soon be up, garibaldi at half-past two rode out from the rear of sant'angelo, and making a wide détour, entered santa maria, and at once ordered a general advance. ebor's brigade sallied out by the capua gate, and advanced against the carthusian convent and cemetery on the capuan road, while a brigade moved out to endeavour once more to clear the way to sant'angelo. the former attack was successful. a small squadron of hungarian hussars charged three squadrons of the enemy's dragoons, defeated them, and captured the two guns that accompanied them. the infantry went on at a run, but it required an hour's hard fighting to gain possession of the convent and cemetery. by this time five thousand men with thirteen guns had arrived from caserta, and the advance became general. medici issued out from sant'angelo, and the whole force from santa maria advanced, the neapolitans falling back from all points; and by five o'clock the whole had re-entered capua, abandoning all their positions outside it, and the garibaldian sentries were posted along the edge of a wood half a mile from the ramparts. until the arrival of the five thousand men of the reserve, the garibaldians had throughout the day, although but nine thousand five hundred strong, maintained themselves successfully against thirty thousand men supported by a powerful artillery. at madalone bixio had routed seven thousand men who had advanced against his position, and had captured four guns. the only reverse sustained was at castel morone, which was garrisoned by only two hundred and twenty-seven men of one of garibaldi's bersaglieri regiments. they held out for some hours against a neapolitan column three thousand strong, and then, having expended all their ammunition, were obliged to surrender. the battle of the volturno cost the garibaldians one thousand two hundred and eighty killed and wounded, and seven hundred taken prisoners, while the enemy lost about two thousand five hundred killed and wounded, five hundred prisoners, and nine guns. at two o'clock a detachment of sardinian artillery, which, with a regiment of bersaglieri, had been landed a few days before at garibaldi's request, had arrived at santa maria, and did good service by taking the places of the gunners who had been almost annihilated by the enemy's fire. the bersaglieri did not arrive at caserta till the battle was over. wearied by the day's fight, the garibaldians, as soon as the long work of searching for and bringing in the wounded was over, lay down to sleep. frank and the two other aides-de-camp of garibaldi were, however, aroused, within an hour of their lying down. the news had arrived that the neapolitan column, which had captured castel morone had suddenly appeared on the heights above caserta: their number was estimated at three thousand. orders were sent to bixio to occupy a strong position. columns were directed to start from sant'angelo and santa maria for caserta, while another brigade was to reinforce the garrison of santa lucia. at two in the morning garibaldi himself started for caserta, and moved out with two thousand five hundred calabrians and four companies of piedmontese bersaglieri. the latter soon found themselves obliged to take off their knapsacks, hats, and useless accoutrements, finding themselves, picked men as they were, unable to keep up with the garibaldians, clad only in shirt and trousers, and carrying nothing but ninety rounds of ammunition. there was but little fighting. the garibaldians lost but seven or eight men, among whom were three piedmontese, who were the first men of the sardinian army to shed their blood for the emancipation of naples. by evening over two thousand five hundred prisoners were taken, and this number was doubled in the course of the next few days by the capture of a large portion of the force which, after being defeated by bixio in their attempt to seize madalone, had scattered over the country pillaging and burning. thus, including the fugitives who escaped, the neapolitan army was weakened by the loss of nearly ten thousand men. the explanation of the singular attack upon caserta, after the defeat of the neapolitan army, was that, after capturing castel morone, their commander had received a despatch stating that a complete defeat had been inflicted on garibaldi, and urging him to cut off the retreat of the fugitives by occupying caserta. now that the work was over, and that there was nothing to be done until the royal army advanced from ancona, and, brushing aside all opposition, arrived to undertake the siege of capua, frank broke down. he had not fully recovered from the effects of the two long days spent in the pestilential atmosphere of the prisons; but had stuck to his work until the neapolitans surrendered; then he rode up to garibaldi, and said,-- "general, i must ask you to spare me from my duties, for i feel so strangely giddy that i can scarce keep my seat." "you look ill, lad. hand your horse over to one of the guides. i have sent for my carriage; it will be up in a few minutes. sit down in the shade of that tree. i will take you down to caserta with me, and one of bixio's doctors shall see you at once." on arriving at caserta, the doctor at once pronounced that it was a case of malarial fever, the result of the miasma from the low ground, increased, no doubt, by over-fatigue. garibaldi immediately ordered another carriage to be brought round, instructed two of his men to take their places in it with frank, and despatched a telegram to professor forli at naples, telling him to have four men in readiness to carry him up to his room as soon as he reached the palace, and to have a doctor in waiting. frank was almost unconscious by the time he arrived at the city. everything was ready, and he was soon undressed and in bed, ice applied to his head, and a draught of medicine poured down his throat. in a week the fever left him, but he was so much weakened that it was another fortnight before he could move about again unassisted. "you have lost nothing: things have been very quiet," his grandfather said. "to-day the voting takes place. of course that is a mere farce, and the country will declare for victor emmanuel by a thousand votes to one. medici has been occupied in putting down an insurrection in the mountains, and cialdini has won two battles on his way west; and a large piedmontese force has landed here, and undertaken the work of the garrison." "how long will it be before cialdini arrives with his army before capua?" "i should think that it would be another week." "i must be able to go forward again by that time," frank said. "i must be at capua when it is taken." "i quite understand your feelings, and i am eager to be there myself; but we must have patience. the neapolitans have withdrawn their forces from cajazzo, and the country round, into the town. there are now some nine thousand men there, and if the commander is obstinate he ought to be able to defend the place for some months. still i grant that obstinacy has not been the strong point of the neapolitan generals hitherto; though it must be said that their troops fought gallantly the other day, coming back again and again to the attack. but the commander of the town, however brave he may be, must see that even if he can hold out for the next ten years he would not benefit francesco. the game is already hopelessly lost. the garibaldians, single-handed, have proved themselves capable of defeating the neapolitan troops; and with the army that cialdini has brought from ancona, and that which has marched down from the north, the cause is beyond hope. the army now in gaeta and the garrison of capua alone remain in arms; and i should say that, ere another fortnight has passed, francesco is likely to have left this country for ever." "quite so, grandfather," frank replied; "that is what i have been thinking for the last week, and that is why i am so anxious to go forward again as soon as possible." "that you shall certainly do; at any rate you have a few more days to stay here, then we will get a carriage and go to santa lucia, lying high in the mountains. the change to the splendid air there will benefit you, while a stay at santa maria or caserta would at once throw you back." chapter xviii. capua. garibaldi had been remaining quietly at caserta when, on the th, he received a message from cialdini inviting him to cross the river and be in readiness to co-operate in a general action, which might possibly be brought on the next day. a bridge had to be thrown over the volturno, but at five the following morning he crossed with five thousand men. he found that a strong neapolitan force had fallen back, in the direction of gaeta, on the previous evening. missori was sent on with the guides to reconnoitre, and at teano found the escort of the neapolitan general, who had gone on to hold a conference with cialdini. at five in the evening garibaldi advanced eight miles farther in that direction, and bivouacked in the open air for the night. scarcely had he resumed his march, at daybreak the next morning, when he met the advance-guard of the piedmontese. the force marched off the road and encamped while garibaldi and his staff rode on to meet the king and his general. the latter was first encountered, and the heartiest greeting was exchanged between him and garibaldi, for they were old friends. they then rode together to meet victor emmanuel, whose greeting with garibaldi was extremely cordial. they rode together till the afternoon; garibaldi went with his column to calvi, and on the th retired to caserta. on the news reaching naples, frank, who by this time had almost recovered, drove to santa lucia. the piedmontese and garibaldians had now taken up their position on the south side of capua, the former occupying their old positions at santa maria and sant'angelo, while the piedmontese occupied the ground between the former town and la forresta; the piedmontese general, delia rocca, being in command of the whole. the troops were at once set to work to construct batteries, and a strong chain of outposts was pushed forward to within five hundred yards of the fortifications, to check the frequent sorties made by the neapolitans. the latter were still resolute, and several fierce fights took place. at four o'clock in the afternoon of november st the batteries opened fire, and the guns of the fortress replied vigorously, the bombardment being maintained until dark. preparations were made for an assault on the following morning. in the evening, however, the swiss general, du cornet, sent in to capitulate, and his surrender was accepted on the condition that he and his garrison should be allowed to march out with the honours of war. frank and the professor had driven early that morning from santa lucia, and had taken up their post high up on mount tifata, whence they could obtain a view of the city and surrounding country. they drove back when the bombardment ceased. early the next morning they set out again, and, meeting an officer, were informed that capua had surrendered. signor forli had two days previously gone down to caserta and seen garibaldi, and had asked him to give frank a letter of introduction to general cialdini, requesting him to allow him to enter with the first party to search the prisons of capua. "that i will do right willingly," garibaldi said. "indeed, as i rode with him two days ago, we naturally talked over the past; and i mentioned to him that i in no small degree owed the success of my expedition to the large sum of money sent to me by madame percival, the wife of the gentleman whose murder by brigands had created so much stir two and a half years ago. he remembered the circumstances perfectly; and i told him that her son had accompanied me throughout, and had greatly distinguished himself, even among the gallant men who accompanied me. i mentioned to him that he had still hopes that his father had not been murdered, and might be found in a neapolitan prison, and gave him his reason for hoping that he might yet be found in capua. i need not, therefore, write a long letter." the general at once sat down and wrote a note to cialdini, introducing frank to him, and asking that he might be nominated to accompany the officer charged with the duty of examining the prisons of capua. as soon, therefore, as they learned that the garrison had capitulated, signor forli and frank drove to la fortuna, where cialdini's headquarters were. frank sent in his card and garibaldi's letter, and after waiting a few minutes was shown into his room. "i am glad to see you, captain percival," the governor said warmly. "garibaldi was speaking to me of you in the highest terms, and interested me much in the quest you are making for your father. a party of our troops will enter the town to take possession of the magazines, and see that order is maintained until the evacuation of the town by the garrison, which will indeed commence this afternoon. i shall myself be entering in a couple of hours' time; and the best way will be for you to ride in with me. i will provide you with a horse; and it will save time and relieve you of your anxiety if i send an officer with you to the prisons, ordering that you shall at once have every facility given you for ascertaining whether your father is among those confined there." "i thank you greatly, general," frank said. "i will not trouble you about the horse, but will, with your permission, drive in in the carriage i have outside. my mother's father, whom i found in prison at reggio, is with me; and should i be happy enough to find my father, we can then take him away at once." "very well, we will arrange it so. colonel pasta, please write out an order to the governor of the state prisons in capua to offer every facility to captain percival to visit the jails and inspect the prisoners, with power to liberate his father at once should he find him there. it will save trouble altogether if, when we enter the town, you at once ride with his carriage to the prisons, and see that this order is complied with. you will also, before you set out, give orders to the officer commanding the escort to allow the carriage to follow him. "i heartily wish you success in your search," he said, turning to frank, and again shook him warmly by the hand. signor forli was much pleased when frank told him the result of his interview. "however, my dear frank," he said, "i pray you not to allow yourself to be buoyed up with any strong hope: if you do you may only be bitterly disappointed. you must remember, too, that even should we not find him here, we may discover him at gaeta." "i will try not to let myself hope too much," frank replied; "but at the same time i own that the description you obtained of one of the prisoners sent on here from naples has given me a strong hope that it is my father. should it not be so, i will not despair altogether, but will look forward to the search at gaeta. if that does not succeed i fear that it will be no good to hope any longer, for all the prisons south of naples have been opened long before now, and had my father been confined in one of them, i feel sure that, if able, he would at once have made his way to naples to see garibaldi, and obtain from him funds to enable him to return home." leaving the carriage, they endeavoured to obtain some food, for they had only taken some coffee and milk and a piece of bread before starting. they found it, however, almost impossible to do so--everything in the place had been eaten up; but after some search they succeeded in getting a bottle of wine and a small piece of bread at one of the cafés. having taken this, they went back to the carriage, and sat there until they saw the general and his staff come out from headquarters and mount. just as they were starting, an officer rode up to the carriage. "i have orders, sir, to permit you to follow in rear of the escort, and to enter the city with them. will you please drive on at once?" an hour later they entered capua. shortly before an italian brigade had marched in, placed guards at the gates and all the public buildings, and relieved the neapolitan sentries on the ramparts. cialdini dismounted at the palace of the governor, and ten minutes later colonel pasto rode up to the carriage. he was accompanied by a gentleman on foot, who introduced himself to signor forli as a member of the municipal body, and, taking a seat, directed the driver to the state prison, colonel pasto riding by the side of the carriage. when they arrived at the gate, where two of the bersaglieri were on guard, they alighted, and colonel pasto knocked at the gate, which was at once opened. "i wish to see the governor of the jail," he said. the warder at once led the way to the governor's residence, followed by the colonel, frank, and signor forli. the governor bowed, with evident trouble in his face, as they entered. "this officer," the colonel said, "is the bearer of an order from general cialdini, to search the prison thoroughly for the person of captain percival, a british subject, believed to be confined here, and to free him at once if he is so. i also require a full list of all prisoners confined here, with a statement of the charges on which they have been imprisoned. to-morrow the place will be searched from top to bottom, and all prisoners--i believe that no criminals are confined here--will be released." "i have no such person as captain percival here," the official said humbly. "not under that name, perhaps," frank said. "i demand, sir, in the first place, to see the four prisoners who were brought here from naples on the th or th of september. if captain percival is not one of the four, though i am convinced that he is so, i will postpone a general search until i make it with the royal officials to-morrow." the governor looked somewhat surprised at the knowledge possessed by the young officer; however, he only said, "i will take you to them at once, sir; they are together, and, as you will see, comfortably lodged." "i can believe that they are so at present," frank said sternly, "and have been, perhaps, for the past twenty-four hours"; for he felt sure that as soon as it was known that the general was about to capitulate, all the prisoners from the lower dungeons would be hastily removed to better quarters. "i will accompany you so far, captain percival," colonel pasto said, "in order that i may inform general cialdini if you have met with success in your search." led by the governor, they left the apartment, entered the prison itself, and followed him down several corridors. one of the warders, by his orders, followed him with a bunch of keys. frank was very pale, his face was set, and he was evidently trying to nerve himself to bear disappointment. signor forli walked with his hand on his shoulder, as if to assure him of his sympathy, and to aid him to support joy or disappointment. colonel pasto, deeply interested in the drama, walked a pace or two behind them. at last the turnkey stopped before a door, inserted a key in the lock, and opened it. the governor entered, with the words, "these are the four prisoners, sir." frank paused for a moment, took a long breath, and then entered. three men were lying on pallet-beds; the fourth, who had been seated, rose as they entered. it was on him that frank's eyes first fell, and then paused in doubt: the man's hair was long and streaked with grey, he wore long whiskers, beard and moustache, his face was very white and his figure somewhat bent. he was very thin, and his eyes seemed unnaturally large in the drawn, haggard face. as his eyes fell upon the uniforms of the piedmontese and garibaldian officers, he held out his arms and cried hoarsely: "i was right, then; we heard the firing yesterday, and knew that the town was attacked, and when we were taken from our foul dungeons and brought up here, i felt sure that deliverance was at hand. ah, forli," he broke off, as his eyes fell on the professor, "this is all that was wanted to complete my joy. you too are rescued!" and bursting into tears he sank back upon his pallet and covered his face with his thin hands. [illustration: "he went up to percival and put his hand on his shoulder"] the professor laid his hand on frank's shoulder, as the latter was about to dart forward. "stay a minute or two, lad," he whispered--"it may be too much for him," and he went up to percival and put his hand on his shoulder. "it is a joyful occasion indeed, leonard," he said. "you are free. save for the papal states and venice, all italy is free. i have other good news for you. muriel, your boy and my wife are all well, and will soon be able to rejoin you." "a minute, forli--give me a minute," captain percival said, in a low voice. "i should not have broken down thus. it is almost too much, coming all at once, after so long a time of waiting." two of the other prisoners had half risen at signor forli's words; the other was too weak to do more than turn his face towards them. "the news is true, gentlemen," colonel pasto said. "to-morrow, you and all within this prison will be free men. capua has surrendered, and we have but just entered the town. as there are still nine thousand of the neapolitan troops here, there are many arrangements to be made, and we must find some place for you all until you can be sent to your homes. it is impossible to search the jails until to-morrow, but you need not regard yourselves any longer as prisoners. i have orders from general cialdini to the governor here, that you shall in the meantime be well and plentifully fed, so as to prepare you for leaving this place. "you hear, sir," he said, turning to the governor. "you will procure, regardless of expense, every luxury possible, with a proper supply of good wine; and see that all have a thoroughly good meal this afternoon, and another this evening. i request that you will, without delay, have every prisoner informed of what has happened, and that he will to-morrow be released." "i will see that it is done, colonel," the governor said. "i will at once give the necessary orders. "perhaps it will be better, sir," he went on, speaking to signor forli, "that your friend should take something before he leaves. i have pleasure in placing my private room at your disposal, and will order some refreshment to be served there immediately." captain percival now rose to his feet with an effort. "i am afraid i shall have to be carried, forli," he said, with an attempt at a smile. "i was able to walk across the room this morning, but your news has, for the present, demolished what little strength i had left." "you had better sit down, captain percival," the colonel said. "the governor will doubtless send some men with a stretcher at once, and i need hardly assure you how great a pleasure it has been to me to be employed on so successful a mission. i shall tell general cialdini that you have been found." and so saying, after shaking hands with captain percival and the other prisoners, he left the room with the governor. frank also went outside, as, seeing how weak his father was, he quite recognised the wisdom of signor forli's advice that he should not be told too much at once; and, indeed, he felt that he could no longer suppress his own emotions. leaning against the wall in the passage, he cried like a child. assisted by signor forli, percival went round and shook hands with the other three prisoners. "i was right, you see," he said: "i told you last night, when we were all brought up here, that our deliverance was at hand, but i hardly thought that it could be so near. soon you too will see your friends, from whom you have been kept a much longer time than i have. "we have only met once before," he said to the professor, "when nearly two months ago we were all brought out and placed in a vehicle together, and driven here. on the way we told each other what our real names were, and the addresses of our friends, so that if by some miracle one of us should issue alive from our horrible dungeons, we might let the friends of the others know how and where they had died. thank god, we shall now all be bearers of good news." "i fear that i shall never be so," the weakest of them said, feebly. "do not think that," signor forli said cheerfully: "good food, fresh air, and, more than all, freedom, will do wonders for you. i, like yourselves, have been a special prisoner in a fortress for upwards of three years, and you see me now as strong and as well as i was when i entered it. make up your mind that you will get well and cheat these tyrants, who had thought to kill you by inches." four of the jailors now entered; one of them carried a stretcher, another had a bottle of excellent wine and four large glasses, which he filled and handed to the prisoners. "this is the first taste of freedom," one said, as he emptied his glass. "there, friend," he went on, as one of the jailors partly lifted the sick man and placed the glass to his lips, "that is your first step towards health and strength. i can feel it already tingling in my veins, which years ago a glass of pure spirit would hardly have done. no, we will take no more now," he said, as one of the men was about to refill his glass. "leave it here; another glass now would intoxicate me, after five years on water alone and starvation diet." captain percival was now placed on the stretcher and carried out; frank fell in with signor forli as he followed the party. "unless you are going to tell him soon," he said, "i must go; i cannot stand it, being so close to him." "i will tell him as soon as we are alone," the professor said: "he has calmed down, and that glass of wine will do him a world of good." on arriving at the governor's room, captain percival was placed in an easy chair, and the jailors left. frank went to the window and looked out. "i can hardly believe that it is not all a dream, forli. the strangest part is that, while i had hoped to open your prison doors, you have opened mine." "you are wrong, leonard: the same person who opened my doors has opened yours; as you set out to find me, so another set out to find us both." captain percival looked at him wonderingly. "of whom are you speaking, forli? my head is not very clear at present. but who could have been looking for us both? you don't mean garibaldi?" "no, no, leonard; truly he has opened the doors to all prisoners, but he was not searching for any one in particular. when i tell you that muriel sent out to garibaldi the sum that you had put aside for that purpose, and that she and my wife had never altogether lost hope that you and i were both still alive, whom should she send out with it, and to search for you, but----" "you don't mean frank? you cannot mean him: he is only a boy at school." "he is nearly seventeen now, and there are hundreds of younger lads who, like him, have done their duty as men. yes, it is frank. i would not tell you at first; one shock was enough at a time. frank, my boy, you have your reward at last." frank turned and ran towards his father. the latter rose from his seat. "my boy, my dear lad!" he cried, as he held out his arms, "this is too much happiness!" it was some minutes before either father or son could speak coherently; and fortunately, just as frank placed his father in the chair, one of the attendants brought in a basin of clear soup, two cutlets, an omelette, and a bottle of wine, saying that the governor had sent them from his own table, with his compliments. captain percival smiled faintly when the man left the room. "it is my last meal in prison, and if it had been sent to me a week ago i should have declined to eat it, for i should have made sure that it was poisoned; however, as it is, i will take it with thankfulness." "yes, and you must eat as much as you can," forli said. "you have got a drive before you: we shall take you straight up to santa lucia, where we have rooms; the mountain air has done wonders for frank, who has had a touch of these marsh fevers. it would be difficult to find a place in capua now, so the sooner you are out of it the better." captain percival took a mouthful or two of soup and then stopped. "that won't do, leonard--that won't do; you really must make an effort. do it in italian fashion: pour a glass of wine into it; if you will take that, i will let you off the meat." "i could not touch it whether you let me off or not. i have not touched meat for two years and a half, and i shall be some time taking to it again." he finished the soup, and then, upon the insistence of signor forli, took some of the omelette. "now," the latter said, "we will be off. when we came in here, we told the driver to find some place where he could take the horses out and feed them, and then come here and wait for us. i suppose we must get somebody to let us out of the prison." frank rang the bell. when the attendant came in, he said, "please tell the governor that we are now leaving, and that we shall be obliged if he would send down an official to the gate to let us out." the governor himself came in two minutes later; the gate was close by the entrance to his house; and signor forli said,--"i will go out first, sir, and fetch our carriage round, if you will be good enough to give orders that the gate is to be kept open until i return, and to order the warder there to allow captain percival to pass out with us." ten minutes later they were on their way. captain percival would not be laid on a stretcher again, but leaning upon his father-in-law and son, was able to walk to the carriage. "i have a flask of brandy-and-water in my pocket, leonard, and if you feel faint you must take a little." very few words were spoken on the journey. frank sat by the side of his father and held his hand in his own, and it was not long before captain percival fell asleep. the excitement of the past thirty-six hours had for a time given him a fictitious strength; and now the sense of happiness and of freedom, aided, no doubt, by the unaccustomed meal and the wine he had taken, took the natural effect, and after trying in vain to question frank as to what had taken place, he dozed off. "that is the best thing for him," signor forli said in low tones, when he saw that captain percival was asleep, "i hope he will not wake up till we arrive at santa lucia. he has borne it better than i expected. it has, of course, pulled him down a great deal more than it did me. a strong and active man must naturally feel solitary confinement much more than one who seldom takes any exercise beyond half an hour's walk in the streets of london; who is, moreover, something of a philosopher, and who can conjure up at will from his brain many of his intimate friends. i have no doubt he will sleep soundly to-night, and i trust--though of this i do not feel quite sure--that he will be a different man in the morning. of course it may be the other way, and that when the effect of the excitement has passed off he will need a great deal of careful nursing before he begins to gain strength. at any rate, i shall go into naples to-morrow and send a telegram to your mother, and tell her to come over with my wife at once. it would be of no use going down to caserta; the wires will be so fully occupied by the military and royal telegrams that there will be little chance of a private message getting through. they are sure to start directly they get my message, and may be here in three or four days. i shall advise them to come viâ marseilles; for, as the train service is sure to be upset, they might be a good deal longer coming by land, besides the annoyance of long detentions and crowded trains; for you may be sure that there will be a rush from the north to come down to witness the king's entrance into naples." "i think that will be a very good plan indeed," frank agreed; "and the knowledge that they are coming will, i should think, do a great deal of good to my father." darkness had fallen long before they reached santa lucia. the village was still full of soldiers. as he leapt out from the carriage frank called to four of them standing near to help in carrying his father upstairs; and so soundly was captain percival sleeping, that this was managed and he was laid on the bed without his fairly waking, though he half opened his eyes and murmured something that frank could not catch. "we will not try to take his things off," signor forli said, "but just throw a blanket lightly over him now. i will remain here while you go down and get some supper. you had better stay in the room with him all night; there is no getting hold of another bed, but----" "i shall do just as well without a bed," frank said; "since i landed at marsala i have hardly slept in one; besides, i don't fancy that i shall sleep much, anyhow. i have plenty to think about and to thank god for, and if my father moves i shall be at his bedside in a moment. it is likely enough that he will not have the least idea where he is." "quite so, frank. when you come up from supper bring an extra candle with you: you had better keep a light burning all night." captain percival, however, did not wake up until it was broad daylight. he looked round in a bewildered way until his eyes rested upon frank, who was seated close to his bedside. "that settles it," he said with a smile, holding out his hand to him. "i could not make out where i was. i remember leaving capua in a carriage, and nothing more; i must have slept like a log, as you got me out of the carriage and up here without my waking." "i think it was the professor's fault chiefly, father, in making you take that second glass of wine in your soup. you see you were altogether unaccustomed to it, and being so weak, that and all the excitement naturally overpowered you. however, i think it a capital thing that it did. you had twelve hours' good sleep, and you look all the better for it. i will tell signor forli you are awake. he has peeped in three or four times to see how you are going on." he went out for a minute, and a little later the professor came in with a large cup of hot milk. "you are looking fifty per cent. better, leonard," he said. "you had better begin by drinking this, and then i should recommend you to get rid of those rags you have on, and to have a good wash. i am going into naples, and will bring you some clothes. you certainly could not get into my coat, but i will lend you a shirt, and that is all that you will want, for you had better lie in bed to-day and listen to frank's account of his adventures, having a nap occasionally when you feel tired, and taking as much soup as you can get down, with perhaps a slice of chicken." "what are you going to naples for?" "i am going to send the good news to muriel, and to tell her and my wife to come over at once and help you to build up your strength again. i won't say come over to nurse you, for i think you can do without that,--all you want is building up." before he started the professor showed them the telegram he had written out. "it is rather long," he said, "but a pound or two one way or the other makes little difference." it ran: "prepare yourself for good news, and don't read farther till you have done so. thank god, frank's search has been successful. i dared not tell you when i last wrote that i had found a clue, lest it should only give rise to false hopes. however, it led us to our goal. leonard is recovered and free. he is weak, but needs nothing but good food and your presence. start with annetta at once; come straight to marseilles and take the first steamer to naples. you will find us at the hotel d'italie, where i shall have rooms ready for you." after signor forli left, frank told the story of his adventures bit by bit, insisting upon his father taking rest and food three or four times. the professor returned late in the evening. "i have got rooms at the hotel," he said; "and it is lucky that i did not put off going down till to-morrow, for telegrams are coming in from all parts of italy to secure accommodation. however, fortunately there were still some good rooms left when i arrived there, and i need not say that i did not haggle over terms, outrageous as they were on the strength of the coming crowd. your father is going on all right, i hope?" "very well indeed, i think. i only talked for about half an hour at a time; he has slept a good deal, and he has eaten well, his voice is stronger, and there is a little colour in his cheeks; he was terribly white before." "that was from being kept in the dark, frank, as much as from illness." they went upstairs together. "i hear a good account of you, leonard," the professor said, "so i will give you what i have in my pocket, which i should otherwise have kept till to-morrow morning." he took out a piece of thin paper, handed it to captain percival, and held the candle close, so that he should read the contents. it was but a few words, but it took some time in the reading, for the invalid's eyes were blinded with tears. when he had read it, he dropped it on the coverlet and put his hands over his face, while the bed shook with his deep sobs. frank took up the paper and ran his eye over it. "the good god be praised for all his mercies! oh, my husband, i can say no more now. mother and i start to-night for marseilles.--your most happy and loving wife." two days later the party left for naples. that morning garibaldi, to whom frank had sent a message on the morning after his return from capua, drove up to santa lucia to see his old friend. "i am almost as pleased, percival," he said, after a silent hand-grip had been exchanged, "to have freed you as i am to have freed italy, a matter in which the money your wife sent me in your name had no slight share. you have reason to be proud of your son: he has shown throughout the expedition a courage and coolness equal to that of any of my veterans. he captured the first neapolitan standard that was taken, and has rendered me innumerable services as my aide-de-camp. you are looking better than i expected." "i should be an ungrateful brute, if i were not getting better, after all my son has gone through to rescue me, and the feeding up that i have had since i came here." "you must have suffered intensely, percival?" "it has been pretty hard. i have all the time been in solitary confinement in filthy holes, where scarce a ray of daylight penetrated. i have had nothing but either the blackest of bread or roasted maize to eat, but i have been kept up throughout by the conviction that ere very long there must be an upheaval: things could not go on as they were. i knew that my own letters had excited a general feeling of horror at the accounts of the dungeons in which political prisoners were confined, and i determined to make the best of matters. a year ago--at least, i suppose that it is about a year, for i have lost count of time--a fresh hope was given me, when one of my jailors, who was at heart a good fellow, and occasionally ventured to say a few words to me, told me that the sardinians, with the help of france, had recovered lombardy from austria, and that tuscany and other papal states had all revolted and joined sardinia. that gave me fresh hope and courage. i felt that things could not long remain so, and that the south would soon follow the example of the north. i felt sure that you had borne your part in the struggle with the austrians, and that, just as you headed the roman insurrection, you would certainly throw yourself heart and soul into a rising in the south. i hear now, from my son, that in fact the whole has been entirely your work." "i have done what i could," garibaldi said, "and well have i been rewarded by the gratitude of the people. but i see already that the jealousy of the piedmontese is carrying them beyond all bounds, and that i shall soon be back in caprera. but that matters not: i shall be happy in the thought that i have earned the gratitude of all italy, and that the work i have done can never be undone. the king is a brave and gallant gentleman, but he is prejudiced by the lies of the men round him, who cannot forgive me for having done what should have been their work. it is a pity, but it matters but little. i fought for the cause and not for myself, and my only regret is that my brave companions should suffer by the jealousy and ill-humour of a handful of miserables. i shall be in naples in a few days, and hope to find a still further improvement in your condition." the long drive to naples had no ill effect whatever, and captain percival was able to walk from the carriage up to his room, leaning upon frank's arm. they learned that it would be two days before the next steamer from marseilles arrived, and these were passed by captain percival in the carriage, driving slowly backwards and forwards along the promenade by the sea, sometimes halting for an hour or two, while he got out and walked for a time, and then sat down on a seat, enjoying intensely the balmy air and the lovely view. he was now able to dispense altogether with frank's assistance. his hair had been cut short, and his face clean-shaved with the exception of his moustache, for, as he said, "he hardly knew his own face with all that hair on, and he wanted his wife to see him again as he was when he left her." his cheeks were still very thin and hollow, but the sun and sea air had removed the deadly pallor, and the five days of good feeding had already softened the sharpness of the outlines of his face. on the day when the steamer was due he remained down at the sea until she was sighted. then he returned to the hotel with signor forli, leaving frank to meet the ladies when they landed and to bring them up to the hotel. garibaldi had run down to naples on the previous day, and spent some hours in endeavouring to smooth matters between the contending factions, and had given frank an order to the officers of the custom-house to pass the baggage of signora forli and mrs. percival unopened. the greeting between frank and his mother and the signora was a rapturous one. not many words were spoken, for both ladies were so greatly affected that they hurried at once into the carriage. frank saw the small amount of baggage that they had brought handed up, and then jumped in. "how is he looking?" mrs. percival asked anxiously. "of course he is looking thin, mother. he was very weak when we found him, five days ago; but he has picked up a good deal since then, and in another fortnight he will be walking about with you just as of old." "you are looking thin yourself, frank--very thin. my father mentioned in his letter that you had had a touch of fever." "yes, it was rather a sharp touch; but, as you see, i am all right now, though i have not yet returned to duty. i was able to take a part in the battle of volturno, but collapsed after it was over." "and your grandfather has not changed much, you said?" the signora asked. "he has borne it marvellously," frank said. "as i told you in my letter, he has kept himself up by going through all the authors he knew by heart. you know what a marvellous memory he has, and of course that helped him immensely. of all the prisoners we have released, there was not one who was so well and strong as he was. i really don't think that you will find any change in him since you saw him last--except that, of course, his hair is rather greyer. father is a good deal greyer, mother. i think that, perhaps, it is the result of there being so little light in the places where he has been kept. here is the hotel. now i will take you up to them, and will leave you there while i come down and see after your traps. i should doubt whether any english ladies ever arrived at naples before with so little luggage." he spoke cheerfully, for both his mother and the signora were so much agitated that he was afraid of their breaking down before they got upstairs. on reaching the door he opened it, and, closing it quickly behind him, went away. it was a quarter of an hour before he returned to the room. all had now recovered from the effects of their first meeting. "we have already settled, frank, that we will start for home at once. your grandfather says that he has ascertained that a steamer will leave to-morrow for england; and we mean to go all the way by sea. it will do your father good, and you too, for your grandfather says the doctor told him that, although you have got rid of the fever altogether, you need change to set you up thoroughly, and that a sea voyage would be the best thing for you. and, as we are all good sailors, it will be the pleasantest way as well as the best. fortunately your work is done here. the fighting is over, and even if it were not, you have done your share. you have not told us much about that in your letters, but garibaldi spoke of you in the highest terms to your father; and your grandfather learned, from some of your comrades, what you really did at calatafimi and palermo." "i did just what the others did, mother, and was luckier than most of them, though i was laid up there for a month with the wound i got; but i don't see how i could start to-morrow without leave, and, at any rate, without thanking garibaldi for his kindness." "well, then, you must run over to caserta and see him this evening. the railway is open, is it not? it is only a run of half an hour or so." "very well, mother, i will do that; and very likely he will be over in the morning. he comes here nearly every day, and if he had not intended doing so to-morrow, i am sure he would come, if only to see you and the signora, and to say good-bye to father and the professor. about what time does the steamer start?" "at one o'clock." "oh, that will leave plenty of time; the general is always up at three in the morning." frank was not mistaken: at eight o'clock garibaldi arrived at the hotel and spent half an hour with them. he delighted mrs. percival by the manner in which he spoke of frank, saying that no one had distinguished himself more during the campaign. the voyage to england was pleasant and uneventful, and by the time they arrived at home, captain percival was almost himself again, while frank had entirely shaken off the effects of his illness. it had been agreed that he should not return to harrow; six months of campaigning had ill-fitted him for the restrictions of school life, and it was arranged that he should be prepared for cambridge by a private tutor. he finally passed creditably, though not brilliantly, through the university. he and his family had the pleasure of meeting garibaldi when the latter paid a visit to london, four years after the close of the campaign; and the general, in spite of his many engagements, spent one quiet evening with his friends at cadogan place. four years later frank married, and his father settled upon him his country estate, to which, since his return to england, he had seldom gone down, for, although his general health was good, he never sufficiently recovered from the effects of his imprisonment to be strong enough again to take part in field sports. he lived, however, to a good old age, and it is not very long since he and his wife died within a few days of each other. the professor and signora forli had left them fifteen years before. the end. typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber: the enemey=> the enemey {pg } who assuredy=> who assuredy {pg } guerillas=> guerrillas {pg } the the entrance=> the entrance {pg } fictitous=> fictitous {pg } transcriber's note: inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have been preserved. obvious typographical errors have been corrected. italic text is denoted by _underscores_ and bold text by =equal signs=. [illustration: "wheel about, and march back to the house, or i shall shoot," said the tory. page .] sarah dillard's ride. a story of the carolinas in . by james otis. [illustration] with six page illustrations by j. watson davis. a. l. burt company, publishers, - duane street, new york. copyright, , by a. l. burt. copyright, , by a. l. burt. sarah dillard's ride. by james otis. note. "they were men admirably fitted by their daily pursuits for the privations they were called upon to endure. they had neither tents, baggage, bread, nor salt, and no commissary department to furnish regular supplies. potatoes, pumpkins, roasted corn, and occasionally a bit of venison supplied by their own rifles, composed their daily food. such were the men who were gathering among the mountains and valleys of the upper carolinas to beat back the invaders."--_lossing's "field-book of the revolution."_ contents. chapter i. page a britisher's threat chapter ii. the tory's purpose chapter iii. a desperate venture chapter iv. the struggle chapter v. sarah dillard chapter vi. greene's spring chapter vii. at watuga chapter viii. the prisoner chapter ix. king's mountain chapter x. a hot chase chapter xi. success list of illustrations. page "you are grown timorous indeed, evan, if you can imagine that noise to be caused by the redcoats." "take your hands off! i am not to be treated as a prisoner," ephraim cried. nathan did as his comrade suggested, and save for a slight creaking now and then, the work was carried on. the colt darted forward at full speed with mrs. dillard. "wheel about, and march back to the house, or i shall shoot," said the tory. nathan and evan crept within three feet of the tory. sarah dillard's ride. chapter i. a britisher's threat. in the year there was in north carolina, west of broad river, and near the site of what is now known as rutherfordton, a settlement called gilbert town. within five or six miles of this village on a certain september day in the year above mentioned, two lads, equipped for a hunting trip, had halted in the woods. one was nathan shelby, a boy sixteen years of age, and nephew of that isaac shelby whose name is so prominent in the early history of north carolina; the other, evan mcdowells, son of colonel charles mcdowells, was one year younger than nathan. but for the fact that these two lads were sorely needed at their homes, both would have been enrolled either among the american forces, or with those hardy pioneers who were then known as mountain men, for the time was come when the struggling colonists required every arm that could raise a musket. on the previous month the american forces under general gates had been defeated by cornwallis at camden. tarleton had dispersed sumter's forces at rocky mount, and the southern colonists appeared to have been entirely subdued by the royal troops. general cornwallis, now at camden, was bending his efforts to establish the king's government in south carolina, and in punishing those "rebels" who, despite their many reverses, were yet among the mountains awaiting a favorable opportunity to strike another blow in behalf of freedom. it was at this time, and especially in the carolinas, as if the attempt to free the colonists from the oppressive yoke of the british had utterly failed, and even the most sanguine despaired of being able to accomplish anything in that section until general washington should lend them some assistance. nathan and evan, lads though they were, understood full well the situation of affairs, and as they sat upon the trunk of a fallen tree, resting from the labor of seeking food--for this hunting trip had been made for serious purposes, rather than in pursuit of sport--the two spoke concerning the reverses which had been visited upon the patriots. "it is as if we were already whipped into submission," evan said sadly, "for how is it possible our people shall gather in such force as to be able to offer successful resistance?" "that seems indeed true," nathan replied, "and yet will colonel william campbell of virginia remain idle? do you believe my uncle, colonel shelby, or lieutenant-colonel john sevier, have laid down their arms? or even if those three are subdued, is it likely, think you, that your father will rest content while the king's forces overrun the country at their pleasure?" "there are matters which cannot be mended, however brave men may be, and it seems to me that now has come the time when we must say that the struggle for liberty can no longer be continued." "if all who have for four years opposed the king's will were as faint-hearted as you, evan, then indeed had the rebellion been crushed before it was well begun." "but tell me, nathan, how may the americans, with but few men, scanty equipments, and little or no money, even attempt to hold their own against the royal forces, which outnumber us mayhap ten to one?" "that i cannot do, and perchance even your father might find it difficult to make reply to such question, but this much i believe to be a certainty. the desire for freedom has not been crushed out from the hearts of the american people, and while it remains strong as at present, some way will be found whereby we shall have at least the semblance of an army again." "i would i could believe you." "is your mother thus despondent?" "i cannot say, nathan. it is now near two weeks, as you know, since i have seen her." "but think you she has lost all hope? she, who has dared to burn charcoal in the fireplace of her own home, while the britishers were about, in order to carry it to your father, who was making gunpowder in a cave among the mountains." "my mother is brave, which is more, mayhap, than can be said for her son." "ay; had she not been, when your father's cattle were driven off by the british skirmishers, she had hardly called the neighbors together, and by such show of strength recovered the property. with women like your mother, and men such as your father and my uncle isaac, i tell you, evan, the cause of liberty is not lost." "but it would seem as if we were further from our purpose now than four years ago, when a declaration of our independence was read throughout the colonies. then we had more money, and it was not as difficult to find recruits. now ten dollars in paper is hardly worth two cents--in fact, i am told that even the troops consider it too cumbersome for its value to repay them for carrying it around." "that is the case only with the paper money." [illustration: "you are grown timorous indeed, evan, if you can imagine that noise to be caused by the redcoats."--page .] "ay, nathan; and as for gold and silver, we still trust to that on which is stamped the king's image. but it is not for you and i to talk of political matters, when both are really in the same way of thinking; the only difference between us is that i, who was never so courageous as you, have grown faint-hearted." evan ceased speaking very suddenly, for at that instant both the lads heard the hoof-beats of horses in the distance, and started up in what was very like alarm as they listened, while exchanging inquiring glances. "it must be that the british are coming this way," evan said, turning as if to flee; but his companion clutched him by the arm, saying with a laugh: "you are grown timorous indeed, evan, if you can imagine that noise to be caused by the redcoats. surely there are none nearabout here, and even though there were, it is not likely they would attempt to make their way through this wood." evan ceased his efforts to flee, but turned as if unwilling, with a forced smile upon his face. "of course it must be as you say, nathan, for the britishers would have no business here; yet it is even true they may be nearabout, for we have heard that general cornwallis was bent on sending a force into this section, and he is not wise who refuses to take heed of any warning in these times." "you need not set me down as one who makes light of the information which has been brought by those whom we could trust; but i refuse to be alarmed without cause, and the idea that the britishers would ride into this thicket is--they _are_ redcoats! it is _i_ who am playing the fool by setting myself up as an authority on those matters of which i know nothing!" the foremost of a mounted band had come into view, causing this sudden change in nathan's speech, and the two boys gazed in alarm at the rapidly advancing horsemen, for now was it too late to make any attempt at flight. both knew, from reports which had been spread through the country, of outrages committed among even those who were not in arms, what it might mean to fall into the hands of the enemy, who were bent on subjugating the country by any means, however harsh, and they had good reason to expect brutal treatment once they were caught in the clutches of the king's troops. involuntarily the lads clasped hands. although armed, there was no thought in the mind of either that resistance might be offered, and indeed it would have been in the highest degree foolhardy to have done other than they did at this moment--quietly await that foe from which escape was impossible. where they stood the forest was open and free from underbrush, therefore while the troopers were yet a quarter of a mile away they were in full view, their red coats showing in vivid contrast among the green leaves, and before the advance squad were yet arrived at where the boys were standing, the entire company could be seen. fully two hundred men, a goodly portion of whom were tories, clad in the ordinary garb of the country, and the remainder wearing the king's uniform, made up the party. among the foremost of the riders was one clad in the habiliments of a major, and from what had been told by those who brought the information of general cornwallis' movements, the boys knew at once that this must be patrick ferguson of the seventy-first royal regiment. it was this officer who accosted the frightened lads, by asking in a loud voice which had in it much of menace: "what are you two doing here armed? rebel spawn no doubt, who lie in wait to do mischief when it may be accomplished without danger to yourselves." "we are out hunting, and if it please you, sir, in order to get meat for the family," nathan replied, speaking stoutly, although he was inwardly quaking with fear. "tell me no lies or it shall go the worse with you. how long has it been that you of the carolinas must search for food in the forests?" "since his majesty's troops overrode the colony, quartering themselves upon those whose store of provisions was already scanty." "be careful how you speak! i am not in a mood to hear insolence from those who rebel against their lawful king," and the major made a threatening gesture, bending from his horse as if he would strike the boys. evan stepped back a pace in fear; but nathan boldly held his ground as he asked bravely: "think you, sir, that two lads like us may do the king harm?" major ferguson's face reddened with rage, and motioning for one of the troopers to advance, he said: "disarm and bind these insolent cubs who dare bandy words with their betters. they shall talk in a different strain before i am done with them." "would you make prisoners of us who are not soldiers?" nathan asked even as the man seized him by the arm. "would you carry away from their homes two boys upon whom a family is depending for food?" "where are your fathers?" major ferguson asked sharply. "i have none," nathan replied. "my mother is a widow." "and yours?" he continued, turning toward evan. "colonel charles mcdowells." "as rank a rebel as lives in the carolinas. see that you bind them well, my man, for i doubt not these two, innocent as they would appear, have already had their fingers in the rebel broth." "since you are bent on making us prisoners, sir, it is useless to deny that we have done aught against the king, save it be a crime to perform our share in feeding those dependent upon us." "if those who make up the ragamuffin following of _mister_ washington could not depend on such as you to provide for the women and children, they might be forced to remain at home where they belong, instead of hatching treason, and i could then, perhaps, clear this portion of the colonies of every male inhabitant who is old enough to be of service in any capacity. before i have performed my mission you of the carolinas shall understand what rebellion means, for it is my purpose to teach you a lesson." having said this the valiant major turned his horse that he might speak with some of his followers, and the trooper who was bidden to disarm and bind the lads had well-nigh finished with the task. nathan and evan were rudely searched, and with such effect that even their spare flints were taken from them. their hands were bound behind their backs securely with leathern straps; the fowling pieces and the scanty store of ammunition were taken charge of by one of the troopers, and he who had been detailed to seize them stood as if awaiting orders of his commander. "keep up a brave heart, evan," nathan whispered courageously. "do not give yonder redcoated brute the satisfaction of seeing that we are afraid." "we are likely to be carried very far from home, nathan, and it may be that much suffering is in store for us." "of that there can be little doubt; but no good will come to us by showing the white feather, for of how much weight, think you, tears and prayers be upon such as our captor. it would please him were we to give free rein to our sorrow, and i am not minded he shall have such gratification from me." "but surely there is no reason why you should anger him by bold speaking--that will not avail us." "no more than it would if we pleaded for mercy, and there is much satisfaction to be gained by depriving him of the pleasure that would come with the sight of our tears. hold firm, evan mcdowells, as your father and your mother would do were they in like situation, and mayhap the time will come when this major ferguson's grasp will be so far lessened that we shall see a chance of slipping through his fingers." "i have little hope of any such good fortune," evan replied, with a long-drawn sigh, and then both the boys fell silent. the horsemen had dismounted, and it was evident that a prolonged halt would be made. the major gave no further orders concerning his prisoners, and the trooper stood guard over them four or five paces away, giving no apparent heed to the conversation in which they had been indulging. during half an hour the situation remained unchanged, and then came into view two hundred or more men on foot, the greater number wearing scarlet uniforms, the remainder being evidently tories. at first glance the boys believed this last body of britishers had come by accident upon the halting-place; but as the men exchanged salutations with the members of the advance party, it could be seen that they all formed one company under the leadership of major ferguson, and had been temporarily separated because of the more rapid traveling of the horsemen. when another half-hour had been spent here the order was given to resume the march, and an officer in the uniform of a captain brought word from the major to the man who was guarding the boys, that he would be relieved from duty, one of the foot-soldiers taking his place. when the change of guards had been effected, nathan and evan were ordered into line midway of the column, and thus hemmed in on every side they were forced to advance, traveling with difficulty, and even pain, because their arms were fettered. as a rule, the men gave very little attention to these young prisoners, save when one or the other of the boys fell slightly in the rear, and then a blow from the butt of a musket would warn him that he must keep pace with the remainder of the troop or suffer because of inability to do so. now that the lads were completely surrounded by foes, no conversation of a private nature was possible, and in silence they marched on, with ample food for unpleasant thoughts. the only question in the minds of both was as to the destination of this body of britishers, for there seemed little reason why so many men should penetrate this mountainous portion of the carolinas, where there was no important stronghold to be captured. until five o'clock in the afternoon the troop advanced steadily, and then the foot-soldiers were arrived at a small valley where the horsemen had already apparently halted for the night. fires were kindled here and there; some of the soldiers were engaged in cooking, others in caring for the horses, and all so intent upon making themselves comfortable that it was as if the prisoners had been forgotten by everyone save him who was charged with their custody. when an hour had passed the lads were still standing where they had been halted, and nathan said with a mirthless laugh: "it looks as though we might be forced to keep our feet until morning, for so nearly as i can make out food has been served to all save ourselves and our guard." "i am counting on being relieved before many more moments pass," the soldier said petulantly, for nathan had spoken so loudly that he could not fail to hear the remark. "and are we to be starved because we neither wear red coats nor are willing to march shoulder to shoulder with them?" "it matters not to me what disposition may be made of you, so that i am given an opportunity of getting my rations," the soldier said, and a moment later one of his comrades came up, musket in hand, to relieve him. to this last guard nathan repeated his question as to the probability of their being provided with supper, and the soldier replied carelessly: "i am not the quartermaster of this detachment, and if i was i question whether much time would be spent over such as you." then he fell to pacing to and fro, watching his comrades as they lounged around the campfire; but all the while keeping close guard over the two lads, who were so weary from the hunting of the forenoon and the march of the afternoon that it is questionable whether they could have fled even if the opportunity presented itself. "i had expected to be ill-treated," nathan said with an assumption of carelessness to his comrade; "but did not count on being starved. it is a pity, since we were to be made prisoners, that this gallant major ferguson could not have come up after we had partaken of dinner, for it seems as if many hours had passed since we ate breakfast." evan was on the point of making some reply to this mournful remark when from the distance he observed a lad, who, coming directly across the valley, was halted by the sentinels stationed around the encampment. "look there!" he said, in a low tone of excitement. "if i mistake not, it is ephraim sowers, and what may he be doing here among the redcoats?" "it is as i have always believed," nathan cried, forgetting that the man who acted as their guard could hear every word he spoke. "ephraim is neither more nor less than a tory, and i venture to say he comes now to give information concerning our friends." "it is not the first time he has met this detachment of men," evan added, "see! he speaks now with one of the soldiers as to an old acquaintance." "who may say for how long he has acted the spy? when it was told on the day before yesterday that he had gold in his possession, i would not believe it; but now it is plain to be seen that there was truth in the statement, and we can say how he earned it." this ephraim sowers was the son of one who claimed to be "a man of peace;" one who by many a loud word had declared that he believed it a sin to resort to arms, whatever the provocation, and, living a near neighbor to the mcdowells, was in a position, if it so pleased him, to give much of valuable information to the enemy. until this moment, however, there had been no suspicion that he might be tempted to play the part of spy, and his son's arrival at this encampment told the boys as plainly as words could have done how it was general cornwallis had reliable knowledge concerning that portion of the colony, for he had given good proof that he knew who among the inhabitants favored the king or the "rebels." ephraim advanced leisurely, and with the air of one who believes he is expected, until his eyes rested upon the prisoners; then he started suddenly, a flush as of shame came over his face for the instant, and straightening himself defiantly, he walked up with a vindictive smile until he was within half a dozen paces of the two lads. "i had thought that the sight of a redcoat was so displeasing that it went against your stomachs," he said tauntingly, "and yet i find you hobnobbing with major ferguson's men." "it seems that you know who commands this detachment," evan said sternly, forgetting all his fears now in the anger he felt that this lad whom he had once trusted should have been all the while a tory. "i'll warrant you two know as much." "ay; but we are here as prisoners, and you have come as a visitor--one who has seen these men before, to judge from the manner in which you accosted them." "well, what does that prove?" ephraim asked, an evil look coming into his eyes. "it proves you to be a spy, and when we shall make known what has been seen this night, i am thinking neither you nor your peace-loving father will find the carolinas a pleasant abiding place." "and i am thinking that when such rebels as you have the chance to tell what has been seen, the rebellion will have been crushed out, for now that you are here, if my words go for anything, you will not soon be set at liberty." chapter ii. the tory's purpose. until the moment when ephraim sowers had revealed his true self by coming into the british camp as a spy, neither nathan nor evan had felt any grave anxiety regarding the future. they knew full well that the redcoats were not given to being friendly in their intercourse with the so-called rebels, and that such persons as they took were treated with roughness, if not absolute harshness. such treatment as had previously been dealt out to captured americans the boys could endure without a murmur, therefore there was no painful anxiety regarding the outcome of the matter; but when ephraim sowers appeared, the situation of affairs seemed to be decidedly changed. now that he had been recognized by these two, the news that he was a tory and in league with the britishers would be carried to all that country roundabout where he lived, whenever nathan and evan were set free. it was only reasonable to suppose he had some slight degree of influence in the camp, having served major ferguson as a spy, and these two lads might safely count on his doing whatsoever was in his power to have them held prisoners, even if worse did not follow, and it was evident nathan feared this last possibility, for he said in a low tone to his comrade, when the young tory had walked away with a swagger in the direction of major ferguson's tent: "no good will come to us through having seen that villain." "on such a point there need be little discussion, for i am of the same mind, and it will be exceedingly fortunate if he leaves this encampment without having worked us some harm, although i cannot say in what way it might be done." "for his own safety, should he ever count on returning home, we must be silenced, evan, and i am thinking ephraim sowers knows in this encampment enough of his own kidney who would aid him in thus doing." "do you mean that he would dare to kill us?" and now evan looked up in alarm. "he would dare do anything when there was no danger of his receiving bodily injury. but don't let me play upon your fears, for there is no reason why we should look abroad for trouble when we have sufficient of it close around us. we will trust to the chances that that young tory is powerless, or too much occupied just at present, to give evil heed to us." "the last is what we should not take into consideration, for however actively engaged he may be it is necessary for his own safety, should he ever return among his neighbors, to prevent us from telling what we have just learned." "if you refuse such comfort as i try to give, then we will put it that he will be content so long as we are held prisoners here, and who shall say that we may not soon find an opportunity for escape? captives while on the march are not like to be kept under overly strict guard." "where did the tory go? i was so bewildered both by seeing him here and realizing what his coming might mean, as to be almost in a daze while he was making his threats." "i fancied i saw some one nearabout major ferguson's tent beckoning for the scoundrel, and he hurried away as if bent on visiting the commander. i venture to predict we shall see him again before he leaves this locality." then the lads fell to speculating as to how long young sowers had been engaged as a british spy; what might be the result of major ferguson's march through the mountains, and in other ways discussing the situation as if they were to be spectators rather than participants in whatever might occur. when half an hour had passed, much to their surprise, for the boys had come to believe they would not be given food that night, rations were served out to them, and they were partaking of the limited meal with such keenness of appetite and eagerness as to be unaware of ephraim sowers' return until he stood close beside them. "well, have you finished giving major ferguson all the information he desired?" nathan asked curtly, only glancing toward the newcomer sufficiently to discover his identity. "i may have told him some things that wouldn't be pleasant for you to hear," the tory replied surlily. "of that i have no question, for it is easy to guess that you have done all the injury to your neighbors of which your tongue was capable." "i have given the major such a good account of you two that he won't be likely to part company with you for some time to come." "we are not surprised, because it was only what might have been expected after we found you were playing the part of spy," evan said, determined to so far hide his fears that this vicious enemy should not suspect what was in his heart. "i am ready to do whatsoever i can against the enemies of the king," evan replied, assuming what he intended should be a dignified attitude. "his majesty must rest content now, if he knows that you stand ready to aid his officers by playing the spy upon those who have befriended you when you were in need." nathan spoke distinctly and deliberately, in a tone so loud that all might hear, and ephraim's face crimsoned with mingled rage and shame, for he knew full well that but for the aid afforded him by nathan's uncle during the previous winter his sufferings might have been great indeed. "i shall do all in my power to overthrow the wicked plans of the rebels, and more particularly will i exert myself against the mountain men," he cried, in a fury of passion, whereat evan added quietly: "we can well fancy that, for master isaac shelby is a mountain man, and but for him you would have starved. let me see: vipers have been supposed to be the only living things that would sting the hand which feeds them." "i shall sting you even worse than i have already done!" ephraim cried, shaking his clinched hand in impotent rage, and so threatening was his attitude that the soldier on guard seized him, as if fearing the boy would strike the helpless prisoners. "take your hands off!" ephraim cried, literally trembling with passion. "i am not to be treated as a prisoner in this camp after all i have done." "very true," the soldier replied quietly. "you shall not be deprived of your liberty save when it becomes necessary to prevent you from striking helpless captives, and that i would not allow my own comrade to do." "i had no idea of touching them." "your actions told a different story, and even though these two lads be rebels, they shall be treated decently while i am on guard over them." "i will see them hanged, and that before long!" ephraim screamed. the soldier released his hold of the infuriated tory, but took the precaution of stepping directly in front of nathan and evan, as if to afford protection; while ephraim, standing a few paces away, poured out a flood of invective, during the course of which much information was gained by those whom he menaced. [illustration: "take your hands off! i am not to be treated as a prisoner," ephraim cried.--page .] "i didn't come to this place empty-handed!" he cried, "nor will my visit be of little concern to the rebels! i brought major ferguson information that clarke and his men are in camp at greene's spring, and to kill and capture them all will be a simple matter for this troop." "you have dared bring the enemy down upon your mother's own cousin," evan cried in astonishment. "he is no cousin of mine once he raises his hand against the king." "i'll venture to say there will be little desire on his part to claim relationship after he knows the part you have been playing," nathan replied with a laugh, which yet further increased the tory's wrath. "but have a care, ephraim sowers. the men in this colony are not easily whipped into submission, nor do they readily forget an enemy, and if it should so chance, as it has many times since ' , that the king's forces were driven out of the carolinas, your life would not be an enviable one." "if anything of that kind should happen, and i am ready to wager all i possess it never will, you won't be here to know what comes to me, for before then i will take good care you are put where all rebels should be--under the sod." "if the king's officers will commit, or permit, murder at your request, then must they give up all claim to the name of soldiers," and now evan was rapidly becoming as excited as the tory. "it may be you can succeed in having us killed; but the reckoning will come, ephraim sowers, and the longer it is deferred the more must you pay." "i will settle with you first after my own fashion, and when that has been done we will see what your ragamuffin friends are able to do about it." ephraim would doubtless have indulged in further threats, but just at that instant a soldier came up from the direction of major ferguson's tent, and the vindictive lad was summoned to the commander's quarters. "it seems that his footing here is not so secure that he can give his tongue free rein many minutes at a time," nathan said in a tone of relief as the spy walked reluctantly away, literally forced so to do by the messenger who had come in search of him. "it is not his words which trouble me," evan said mournfully. "just now he is in a position to work us great injury, and by yet further provoking his wrath we have made of him even a more bitter enemy than he naturally was." "i question if that could be possible." "yet you cannot dispute his power to work us harm." "neither do i. if he be willing, as it appears he has shown himself, to betray the whereabouts of colonel clarke's forces, knowing full well that this troop can readily cut them down, it is certain we stand a good show of learning how great is his power for mischief." "for myself i have little concern at this moment, because of the knowledge that our friends are in such peril." "and yet there is nothing we can do to aid them." "unless it might be we could escape." evan said suddenly, lowering his voice to a whisper lest the sentinel should overhear his words. "it is only needed that you look about in order to see how much hope there is of such a possibility," nathan said despondently. "even though we were fresh, instead of so weary that i question if we could travel a single mile further, and if we might so far elude the sentinel as to gain the cover of the thicket, it would be impossible to continue the flight two miles, for the tories in this troop know the country as well, if not better, than we." "i was not so foolish as to believe that escape might be possible, but only spoke because my thoughts were with those who are threatened, and my desire is to aid them." "i wish it might be done," nathan replied with a long-drawn sigh, and then the two fell silent, each occupied with his own gloomy thoughts. an hour passed, and nothing more had been seen or heard of the tory spy. even though they were in such desperate straits, the boys began unconsciously to yield themselves up to slumber, and after a time, bound as they were, both were reclining upon the green turf in at least partial repose. when morning came they ached in every limb, with arms so benumbed that it was as if those useful members had been paralyzed. they had slept fitfully, and were hardly more refreshed than when the halt was called after the day's march. scanty rations were served out to them, and to the intense relief of both the lads a captain, more humane that his commander, ordered that the bonds be taken from their arms. they were to be tied together in such manner that any attempt at flight would be useless, and yet the labor of marching would be much lightened. the prisoners had expected another visit from the tory before the troop started; but in this they were happily disappointed, and when the march was begun they almost believed ephraim sowers had been left behind, until shortly before noon they saw him riding with the mounted detachment. "he is most likely guiding the force to greene's spring," nathan said bitterly. "he counts on seeing those who have played the part of friends to him shot down, and even though their blood will be upon his head, he is well pleased." to the relief of both the boys, their enemy did not come near where they were, and it was reasonable to suppose major ferguson, although not prone to be overcareful of the feelings of his "rebel" prisoners, had given sowers orders to put a check upon his tongue. when noon came the detachment of foot soldiers arrived at martin drake's plantation, where the cavalry had already halted and were actively engaged in wantonly destroying property. outbuildings were torn down, lambs, chickens, and geese were being slaughtered although they were not needed for food, and the household furniture which, rude though it was, represented all that went to make up the interior of the home, was thrown about the grounds, or chopped into kindlings, from sheer desire to work destruction. the horsemen could not have been at this place more than an hour when the foot soldiers came up, and yet in that short time they had completely wrecked the dwelling portion of the plantation, and caused such a scene of devastation as would lead one almost to believe that a desperate conflict had raged at that point. "all this must be pleasing to ephraim sowers," evan said bitterly, "for it was martin drake's wife who tended him when he was ill with the fever, and this may be a satisfactory way of requiting her." "have you seen him since we halted?" "no, and i am hoping he has gone ahead with the advanced detachment, for it seems certain all of the horsemen are not here." although master blake's live stock had been slaughtered in such quantities that there was treble the amount of food the troop could consume, the boys were given nothing more than cornbread for dinner, and hardly so much of that as would suffice to satisfy their hunger. not until everything portable had been destroyed, the doors torn from the house, and the windows shattered, was the march resumed, and then the prisoners heard the tory who was acting as guide say that at nightfall they would camp on captain dillard's plantation. there was in this information a ray of hope, so far as warning colonel clarke's men of what threatened, for captain dillard was in his command, and if information could be conveyed to the mistress of the house it was possible she might send a message ahead. this much in substance nathan had suggested to his comrade; but evan failed to see any possibility that good might be effected so far as the friends of the cause were concerned. "even though mrs. sarah dillard can be told all that we know, it is not likely she will have an opportunity of sending a messenger from the plantation. ephraim sowers knows full well where the captain may be found, and will warn major ferguson against permitting any person to leave the place." "if dicey langston, a girl only sixteen years old, could baffle cunningham's band, who gave themselves the name of the bloody scouts, as she did on that night when alone she crossed the ennoree, swollen though the waters were, what may sarah dillard do when she knows her husband's life hangs in the balance?" "it is not a question of what she would do, but of what she can," evan replied gloomily. "thanks to ephraim sowers, the commander of this force will know only too well how eager she must be to send news ahead of his whereabouts, and will take precautions accordingly." "that is as may be. we can at least hope for the best," nathan replied bravely, and then word was given for the troop to resume the march. during the afternoon the british soldiery came upon two plantations, the buildings of which they utterly wrecked, shooting from sheer wantonness the live stock that could not be run down without too much labor, and seeming eager in every way to mark their trail by destruction. it was an hour before sunset when the boys saw in the distance the buildings of the dillard plantation, and knew that the time was near at hand when, if ever, they must get word to that little band whose lives were in such deadly peril. ephraim sowers was nowhere to be seen; but slight comfort could be derived from this fact, for it seemed reasonable to suppose he was making himself obnoxious in the dwelling of those people whom he had once claimed as his friends, but was now visiting as their bitterest enemy. "keep your wits about you for the first opportunity to gain speech with sarah dillard," nathan whispered to his comrade, and evan sighed as he nodded in reply, for it seemed to him there was little chance they would be permitted to hold a conversation with any acquaintance, because of the probable fact that ephraim sowers would guard against such a proceeding. the prisoners were marched directly up to the dwelling, and there, with the windows and doors flung wide open, they had a full view of the entire interior, but their enemy was nowhere to be seen. this, to evan, unaccountable absence, troubled him not a little, for he believed it betokened yet more mischief on the part of the vindictive tory, but nathan was not so ready to take alarm. "it may be that he is keeping out of sight, hoping sarah dillard will still look upon him as a friend, and, in case the captain should succeed in escaping, confide the secret of his whereabouts to him." the mistress of the house was doing all in her power to satisfy the exacting demands of the officers who had quartered themselves upon her, as the boys could see while they remained halted near the doorway. it appeared that such servants as she had were not sufficient in numbers to please these fastidious red-coated gentlemen, and they had insisted that mrs. dillard should perform her share of waiting upon them. now one would call out some peremptory order, and then follow it with a demand that the mistress of the house give it her especial attention, while, despite such insolence, sarah dillard moved with dignity here or there, as if it were pleasure rather than necessity which caused her to so demean herself. on the outside roundabout the soldiers were engaged in their customary diversion of killing every animal which came within range of their guns, and a huge bonfire had been built of the corncribs, near which a score or more of men were preparing the evening meal. a spectator would have said that the dwelling itself was spared only because in it the officers had taken up their quarters, and once they were ready to depart it would be demolished as the other structures surrounding it had been. during half an hour or more the boys stood close by the door under close guard, and then one of the officers appeared to have suddenly become conscious of their existence, for he called in a loud tone to mrs. dillard: "we desire of you, madam, some apartment which will serve as a prison for two rebel cubs that we have lately taken. can the cellar be securely fastened?" "there is only a light lattice-work at the windows, which might readily be broken out if your prisoners made an effort at escape," mrs. dillard replied. "but surely you have some apartment which will answer our purpose? if not, the men can speedily nail bars on the outside of one of the chamber windows." "there is a room above, the window of which is already barred, that may serve your purpose," mrs. dillard said, as she glanced toward the boys with a certain uplifting of the eyes, as if to say that they should not recognize her as an acquaintance. "show it to me and we will soon decide if that be what is required, or whether we shall call upon our troopers to turn carpenters," the officer said with a laugh, as if believing he had given words to some witticism, and in silence mrs. dillard motioned one of the servants to lead the way to the floor above. the brief survey which he made appeared to satisfy the britisher, for on his return he said to major ferguson, who was seated at the head of the table, giving his undivided attention to the generous supply of food which the mistress of the house had been forced to bring out: "there is but one window in the room of which our fair hostess spoke, and that overlooks the stable-yard; it is barred on the outside with oaken rails stout enough to resist the efforts of any three of our troopers, i should say. the door can be not only bolted, but locked on the outside, and in my opinion there should be no need of a sentinel stationed inside the building." "if such is the case, why spend so much breath in describing the dungeon," major ferguson said with a laugh. "it is enough for our purpose if the lads cannot break out, and the sooner they are lodged within the sooner you will be ready to hold your peace, thus giving me an opportunity of enjoying this admirable game pie. put the rebels away and sit down here, for it may be many days before another such chance presents itself." word was passed to the soldier who had the prisoners in charge for him to take them to the upper floor, and this trifling matter having been arranged, the gallant british officers turned their attention once more to converting their hostess into a servant. chapter iii. a desperate venture. the meaning look which mrs. dillard had bestowed upon the prisoners, brief though it was, sufficed to revive their spirits wonderfully. not that there was any promise in it; but it showed they were recognized by the hostess and, knowing her as they did, the boys knew that if there was a loophole of escape for them she would point it out. while preceding the soldier up the stairs it was much as though they were guests in sarah dillard's home, and there came with the fancy a certain sense of relief and security such as had not been theirs for many hours. the apartment selected to serve as prison was by no means dismal; it was cleanly, like unto every other portion of sarah dillard's home, and sufficiently large to permit of moderate exercise, with a barred window overlooking the stable-yard which allowed all that took place in the rear of the dwelling to be seen. "i shouldn't mind being a rebel myself for a few hours in order to get such quarters as these," the soldier said as he followed the boys into the chamber. "not a bad place in which to spend the night." "with a couple of blankets a body might be very comfortable," nathan replied in a cheery tone, for despite the dangers which threatened that little band at greene's spring, despite ephraim sowers' avowed enmity and probable ability to do harm, despite the fact that he was a prisoner, this enforced visit to captain dillard's house was so much like a home-coming that his spirits were raised at once. "and you have the effrontery to ask for blankets after getting such a prison as makes a soldier's mouth water," the britisher said with a certain rough good-nature in his tone. "you rebels have a precious queer idea of this sort of business, if you can complain because of lack of blankets." "i am not complaining," nathan replied with a laugh. "of course there is no situation which cannot be bettered in some way, and i was simply speaking of how this might be improved. we are satisfied with it, however, as it is." "and so you had better be, for i am thinking there are not two rebel prisoners as comfortably bottled up, and by this time to-morrow night you will be wishing yourselves back," replied the guard. then the soldier locked and barred the door on the outside, trying it again and again to make certain it could not readily be forced open, and a few seconds later the sound of his footsteps told that the boys were comparatively alone for the time being. now was come the moment when they should make known the danger which threatened the friends of freedom through ephraim sowers' perfidy, for every second might be precious if a warning message could be sent, and involuntarily both the lads ran to the window, looking eagerly out through the bars in the hope of seeing some member of the household whose attention might be attracted. major ferguson's subordinates were not so careless as to allow their prisoners many opportunities of such a nature. all the servants, and in fact every person on the plantation, was kept busily engaged waiting upon the redcoats, a goodly number of whom could be seen in the stable-yards, which knowledge caused evan to say mournfully: "we are not like to get speech with any one who could carry word to greene's spring. it stands to reason ephraim sowers has warned the britishers that such an attempt might be made, and you may be certain, nathan, no one can leave the plantation without major ferguson's permission." "it is possible he can prevent a message being carried; but i shall not give up hope yet awhile." "before many hours have passed the troop, or at least a portion of it, will set out to slaughter our friends. i would i knew where that tory spy was at this moment!" "most likely he has gone ahead to make sure his victims do not escape. we shall hear of him again 'twixt now and daybreak." "i am afraid so," evan replied with a long-drawn sigh, and then, leaning his forehead against the wooden bars, he gazed out longingly in the direction his feet would have taken had he been at liberty. with two hours' start he might save the lives, perhaps of a hundred men, all of whom could be accounted his friends, and yet because of one lad's wickedness that little band of patriots was in imminent danger of being massacred. from the apartments below the coarse laugh and coarser jest of a britisher could be heard, telling that the enemy were still bent on making themselves as obnoxious to the inmates of the household as was possible, while now and then from the outside came sounds of the splintering of wood or the cackling of poultry as the soldiery continued their work of wanton destruction. both officers and men grew more nearly quiet as the shadows of night began to lengthen. the britishers were weary with asserting their pretended right as victors, and the stable-yard was well-nigh deserted of its redcoated occupants. the young prisoners were standing near the window in silence, when a slight noise as of some animal scratching at the door attracted their attention, and instantly the same thought came into the mind of each. sarah dillard, freed for the time being from the exacting demands of the unwelcome visitors, had come, perchance, to point out some way of escape. now was arrived the moment when they might reveal to this brave woman the dangers which threatened, and yet for the instant nathan hesitated so to do, because it appeared to him that he would be distressing her needlessly, since it was hardly probable she could find means of conveying the warning to those in peril. by making her acquainted with all that threatened he would be doing no more than to increase her distress of mind. evan, however, was not looking so far into the future. he only realized that perhaps now was the moment when he would make known ephraim sowers' perfidy, and crept noiselessly toward the door, whispering eagerly: "is that you, mistress dillard?" "yes, boys, and i have come in the almost vain hope that it may be possible to serve you, although i know not how. when did you fall into the hands of the enemy?" "have you seen ephraim sowers here?" evan asked, heeding not the question. "no. has he also been made prisoner?" "it is far worse than that. he is a spy in the service of the redcoats, and has revealed to them the whereabouts of colonel clarke's band." "that is impossible, for the entire company were here not more than eight hours ago, and with them was my husband." "then the miserable spy is mistaken, and these britishers will have their journey for their pains," nathan whispered in a tone of intense relief. "ephraim has told major ferguson that they were encamped at greene's spring, and there----" "and it is to greene's spring they are going!" mrs. dillard cried unconsciously loud. "how could any spy have learned of their intended movements?" "you must remember that ephraim sowers has not been looked upon as a spy. perchance no one except the britishers knew it until we two saw him coming into the camp where we were prisoners," and nathan spoke hurriedly. "it is not for us to speculate how our friends have been betrayed; but to give the warning to them without loss of time." mrs. dillard did not reply immediately, and the prisoners could well fancy that she was trying to decide how the danger might best be warded off. "is it not possible for you to release us?" nathan asked after a brief pause. "if either evan or i were at liberty we might be able, by rapid running, to cover the distance between here and greene's springs before the redcoats could arrive there, for it is not likely they will start very early in the night." "to escape from the window while the soldiers are in the stable-yard is impossible," mrs. dillard replied, much as though speaking to herself, "and as for getting you out by this way i am powerless. one of the officers has a key to the door, and even if it was in our possession, there is little chance you could make your way through the house secretly." "but something must be done, and at once," nathan whispered in an agony of apprehension, and at that moment the sound of footsteps on the floor below caused mrs. dillard to beat a retreat. the boys could hear the swish of her garments as she ran through the hallway, and it was as if the good woman had no more than hidden herself from view before the heavy footsteps of a man on the stairs told that some one of the britishers was coming to make certain the prisoners were securely confined. creeping noiselessly away from the door lest the redcoat should enter and find them in a position which betokened that they had been holding converse with some one on the outside, the lads remained silent and motionless until the noise of footsteps told that this cautious britisher, having satisfied himself all was as it should be, had returned to the floor below. then the lads stole softly back near the door where they awaited the coming of the woman whom they hoped might show them the way to freedom, even though at the time it seemed impossible she could do so. the moments passed like hours while she remained absent, and then once more they heard a faint scratching at the door which told of her return. "tell me all you know regarding this boy sowers being a spy," mrs. dillard whispered when she was once more where private conversation could be carried on, and nathan said nervously: "why speak of him at a time when every moment is precious? instead of giving such as that villain a place in our thoughts we should be trying to form some plan whereby the lives of our friends may be saved." "it is yet too early in the night for us to make any move," the brave woman replied as if her mind was already made up to a course of action. "until the men have quieted down somewhat we cannot so much as cross the yard without being challenged, and i would know all that may be told before setting out for greene's spring." "do you count on making such a venture?" evan asked in surprise. "some one must do it, and since i cannot set you free, i must act as messenger." "but there is hardly one chance in a hundred you will succeed." "yet i shall try to take advantage of that hundredth chance." "but how may you get there? it is twenty miles over a rough mountain road." "even though it were ten times as far, and the peril greater an hundredfold, do you not think i would brave it in the hope of saving the lives of those brave men?" evan ceased to find objections to her plan; but asked how she might be able to make the journey. "there is in the stable a colt which the britishers will hardly attempt to drive away because he has not yet been broken. i shall do my best at riding him, and trust in the good god for protection." nathan was not a cowardly lad; his acquaintances spoke of him as one having much courage, and yet he trembled at the thought of this woman attempting to bridle an unbroken colt, and then ride him twenty miles over the rough mountain roads where only the steadiest of horses might safely be used. he would have said something in the hope of dissuading her from her purpose; but it was as if his tongue refused its office, for sarah dillard would ride that night not only to save a hundred or more friends of freedom, but to save the life of her husband. "tell me all you know of the spy, so that i may warn our people against him with fair proof." neither evan nor nathan made any attempt at giving advice; the woman's courage so far eclipsed theirs that it was as if she should command and they obey--as if they had no right even to offer a suggestion. obedient to her wishes they repeated all they had heard the vindictive tory say, and described in detail his reception at major ferguson's camp. "if you could only take us with you, or what would be better, so manage it that we might go in your stead," nathan said when his account of ephraim sowers was brought to an end. "i would willingly do so if it might be possible; but i can see no way to accomplish such a purpose." "yet there are many chances against your being able to ride the colt, however willing you may be," evan said, as if hoping such suggestion might cause her to devise another means of forwarding the warning. "i know full well how many chances there are against success, and yet because it is the only hope, i shall venture." but little conversation was indulged in after this assertion, which seemed prompted by despair. nathan told the brave woman all he knew regarding the most direct path through the thicket to the american encampment, and evan warned her to be on the alert for sowers nearabout the spring, where both he and his comrade believed the spy had gone to make certain his intended victims did not escape. then all fell silent as if awed by the dangers which were to be voluntarily encountered, and presently the boys knew from the faint sounds that sarah dillard had stolen swiftly away without so much as a word of adieu. "she will never be able to get an unbroken colt out of the stable, even if she succeeds in bridling him," evan whispered, and nathan replied with a certain hopefulness in his tone, although he was far from believing the venture might succeed: "it is possible the task may be accomplished. i have more faith in her gaining the mastery of the colt for a certain time than i have of her being able to keep him on the trail. there are many places 'twixt here and greene's spring where a single misstep, such as an untrained animal is likely to make, will send them both into eternity." as if by a common impulse the boys moved toward the window, and there stood gazing out, waiting for the appearance of the brave woman who had not only to master an untamed horse, but to keep herself concealed from view while surrounded by enemies. the troopers' steeds had been stabled in the huge barns to the right of the dwelling, where were kept the draft animals, and, as the boys well knew, captain dillard's saddle horses and the colt to which his wife had referred, were housed in the small building directly across the stable-yard from the improvised prison. this particular portion of the plantation appeared to be entirely abandoned by redcoats; but the officers in the dwelling were so near at hand that any unusual noise in or around the yard would immediately attract their attention, even though the sentinels were remiss in their duty, and it seemed well-nigh impossible that sarah dillard could so much as lead the most steady animal out into the open without betraying her movements to the enemy. "she won't be able to bridle the colt without something of a fight," evan said half to himself, and nathan added as if he would find some ray of hope in the gloom which surrounded them: "it is fortunate that the stable has no floor, and the colt may do considerable prancing around without giving an alarm." "yet it is not likely she can ride him out without a certain amount of noise." "i know the venture is a desperate one," nathan replied mournfully; "but i am forcing myself to believe it may succeed." at this instant a dark form was seen moving cautiously around the corner of the house in the direction of the small stable, and the boys knew that the desperate venture was begun. although the night had fully come it was not so dark but that surrounding objects could be seen with reasonable distinctness, and from the moment sarah dillard thus came in view the prisoners were able to follow her every movement. no frontiersman could have made his way across the yard with less noise than she did; not so much as the breaking of a twig betrayed her movements, and if this stealing out of the house had been the only difficult part of her task, then one might say she would accomplish it readily. the boys hardly dared to breathe as she came from the shadows of the building, moving with reasonable rapidity across the yard until she was lost to view in the gloom of the stable, and then, although no creaking of hinges betrayed her purpose, both knew she had effected an entrance. it was only the easiest portion of the work which had been accomplished, however, and the prisoners stood with every nerve strained to its utmost tension as they listened for what would betoken that the struggle with the untamed animal had begun. once, just for an instant, they saw her form at the door, and then she suddenly disappeared as if the colt had pulled her back; but as yet, even though on the alert, they could hear nothing unusual, and unless the british officers grew suspicious because of her absence, she was yet in safety. one, two, three moments passed almost as if they were hours, and then the brave woman could be seen fondling and petting the colt, who already wore the bridle, as she peered out from the doorway to learn if the coast was yet clear. "she has bridled him, and without making a noise," evan whispered in a tone of astonishment. "it was easier to do that in the darkness than it would have been in the light, and if she is wise she will mount inside, instead of trying to do so out here." it was as if nathan had no more than spoken when with a bound the colt, bearing on his back the woman who was risking her life to save her husband, came over the threshold, rearing straight up on his hind feet until there seemed every danger he would topple backward; but yet his rider kept her seat. "i had never believed a woman could do that," evan exclaimed in a whisper. "perhaps this one might not have been able to but for the necessity. it hardly seems possible she can get out of the yard without detection, for the sound of his hoofs as he rears and plunges must of necessity bring the redcoats out in the belief that their own horses have been stampeded." the colt struggled desperately to free himself from the strange burden upon his back, and yet, singularly enough, never once did he come down upon the ground with sufficient force to cause alarm. he alternately reared and plunged while one might have counted ten, his rider clinging to him meanwhile as if she had been strapped securely down, and then with a bound he cleared the stack of brush which was piled just behind the stable, disappearing an instant later amid the forest, which on this side the plantation had been left standing within a hundred yards of the dwelling. "she is off, and headed in the right direction," nathan said in a tone of amazement, as if it was almost incredible the feat had been accomplished, and the words were no more than uttered before out of the house came trooping half a dozen men, alarmed by the thud of the animal's hoofs. "they have heard her," evan cried in an agony of apprehension, "and now the chase will begin, for they must understand what her purpose is in thus running away." fortunately for the safety of that little band at greene's spring, the britishers were not so well informed by the noise of all that had taken place as evan believed. the thud of the colt's feet had simply caused them to believe there might be a disturbance among their own animals, and they were very far from suspecting the real truth of the matter. they went hurriedly toward the barns wherein their horses were stabled, however, and seeing this both the boys believed that chase was about to be given. "if she can keep the colt straight on the course, i have no fear they will overtake her," nathan said, much as though speaking to himself; "but it is not probable the beast will be so tractable." now the prisoners watched in anxious suspense to see the first of the troop ride out in pursuit, and as the moments passed their spirits increased almost to bewilderment because no such move was made. finally, one by one, the redcoats returned to the house as if satisfied everything was as it should be, and evan whispered, as if doubting the truth of his own statement: "it must be that they fail to suspect anything is wrong. there is yet a possibility, nathan, that sarah dillard will accomplish the task which half an hour ago i would have said was absolutely beyond her powers." "and if she can bridle and mount the beast, i am tempted to believe she may reach greene's spring in time, for certain it is that up to this moment no one suspects that she has left the plantation." "i could----" evan ceased speaking very suddenly, and it was with difficulty he could repress a cry of fear, for at this instant the key was turned in the lock, the door flung open, and as the prisoners suddenly faced around, they saw before them ephraim sowers, looking satisfied and triumphant. chapter iv. the struggle. the first and most natural thought that came into the minds of the boys, as they turned to see their enemy standing in the doorway, was that he had discovered the flight, and, perhaps, counted on doing something toward checking it even now, when sarah dillard must have been a mile or more away. almost as soon as this idea presented itself, however, both realized that if the grinning tory had even so much as a suspicion of the real state of affairs he would be urging the troopers on in pursuit, rather than standing idly there. the young scoundrel remained for an instant in the doorway enjoying his triumph, and nathan found it difficult to repress a smile of satisfaction as he saw the spy thus unsuspicious, while sarah dillard was speeding toward greene's spring to carry the warning which, if told, would most likely save the lives of a hundred men. ephraim, firmly convinced that nothing could avert the fate shaped by him for colonel clarke and his force, was enjoying the situation as pictured in his mind, to the utmost of his mean nature, and the boys almost forgot they were prisoners in the pleasure born of the knowledge that the tory might yet be outwitted. "what are you fellows doing over there by the window?" ephraim asked peremptorily after surveying the two in silence fully a moment. "have the britishers any law or rule which forbids one deprived of liberty from seeking fresh air whenever he may be so fortunate as to get an opportunity?" nathan asked sharply. "hark you, nathan shelby, i am tired of hearing your long-winded speeches, and we will have done with them from this out--at least, so long as i am the master." "so long as you are the master!" evan repeated in a tone of contempt. "we haven't been aware that such was the case." "then you may know it now for a certainty. i am counting on you two trying to escape, and therefore have come to stand guard in this room." "and a valiant guard you will be, ephraim sowers, if your courage is no greater than it was one year ago, when you fled in hot haste from what proved to be a turkey-cock, thinking you saw the head of an indian among the weeds," nathan said jeeringly, and the spy retorted angrily: "have a care over your tongue, my bold rebel! matters have changed now from what they were forty-eight hours ago. you are among those who obey the king, and do not allow sedition-breeders free rein of their tongues." "and now hark you, master sowers," nathan cried, losing his temper somewhat because of the air of authority which this fellow assumed. "'rebels and sedition-breeders' are names which have too much meaning in these days for you to let them fall so trippingly from your tongue! have a care, you tory sneak, lest even while acting the part of guard over your betters, you come to grief! i'm not minded to take many threats from a coward and a spy." "in this case, however, you will take whatsoever i choose to give, nathan shelby, for it needs only that i raise my voice to bring here those who would shoot you down did you so much as lift your hand against me." "and it is such knowledge which makes you so wondrous brave," evan said with a laugh of scorn which did more to rouse the young spy's anger than words could have done. he struggled for an instant to speak; but stammered and hesitated as the blood rushed into his face until, losing the last semblance of patience, he motioned for them to move back toward the window from which they had just come. "if this is what you mean, we are willing to take our stations here without your running the risk of bursting because of your own sense of importance," nathan said as he moved back a few paces, evan following the example. "have a care, however, that you do not attempt to give such orders as we shall be indisposed to obey, lest it seem as if your authority amounted to nothing." by this time ephraim so far regained the mastery over himself as to be able to speak, and he cried in a fury: "we'll soon see whether you dare disobey, and to that end i will keep you busy for an hour or more, until you have learned that i am really the master. now then, you rebels, remember that the king's troops are near at hand to shoot you down at the first sign of insubordination, and take good heed to move exactly as i command." ephraim straightened his body with a consequential air, and stood for an instant as if reflecting upon how he had best prove his authority, while the two prisoners gazed at him in astonishment that he should thus dare trust himself unarmed alone with them. "stand straight and look me in the face!" he commanded. "if the day's march was not enough to break your spirits, we will see what a little exercise will do for you now. keep step, and travel around this room until i give you permission to stop." "do you think we are to be bullied by such as you?" nathan asked in great astonishment. "if you think it is wise, refuse to do as i say, and before five minutes have gone by you will learn the result of disobedience." neither evan nor nathan moved, but stood looking inquiringly into each other's eyes with an expression on their faces which would have warned the tory of mischief had he been less deeply occupied with his own fancied importance. "fall into line and march, or it will be the worse for you!" he cried, advancing threateningly with upraised hand until he was within striking distance of the prisoners, and for an instant it appeared as if he intended to inflict punishment then and there. whatever idea may have been in his mind cannot be said, yet it hardly seems possible he would have attempted personal violence while alone with those whom he had wronged, even though the soldiers were so near at hand. it is certain, however, the boys fully believed he would carry out the implied threat, and without thinking of the possible consequences, or stopping to realize what might be the result if this spy was roughly handled, as if with one accord they leaped upon him, nathan taking the precaution of clapping his hand over the bully's mouth at the first onset in such manner that it was impossible for him to speak or make an outcry. even a stronger lad than ephraim sowers would have gone down before this sudden attack as quickly as did he, and in a twinkling the prisoners held him upon the floor in such fashion that only one arm remained free. evan sat upon his feet, while nathan, in addition to covering his mouth, held his right arm firmly. with his left hand ephraim struck out to the best of his ability, but without accomplishing anything whatsoever, and he was permitted to thus thrash around, doing no harm to any save himself, until he had been thoroughly wearied by the struggle. "i reckon we have got time enough to teach you quite a lesson," nathan whispered with but slight show of anger. "you are supposed to be guarding us prisoners, and the redcoats will give little heed to you for some hours to come. while we are alone you shall get a taste of what you would deal out to others." as a matter of course ephraim made no reply, because it was impossible so to do; but his captors could read in his eyes the threats his tongue was powerless to utter. "i know what you would say, my fine tory spy. you have in your mind the thought that we must in time let you up, and then it shall be your turn, for the soldiers will be called in to perform what you fail in doing. how well would that plan work if we did our duty, and killed you here and now? it is what should be done to a lad who, having received nothing but favors in this section of the colony, betrays to their death a hundred or more of his neighbors." anger had rapidly died out of ephraim's eyes as nathan spoke, for by the tone of the latter, one would have said that he was in deadly earnest, and really questioned whether or no it was not his duty to take this worthless life. "it would not be a hard matter to let his life-blood out," evan added, intent only on doing his share toward frightening the spy, "and perhaps it will be best even though he had not betrayed colonel clarke and his men, for we can have a very fair idea of what he will be, once power is his." "find something with which to tie his feet and hands, and then we will contrive a gag so that it is not necessary to sit over him in this fashion." evan obeyed the command by tearing from the lad's hunting-shirt two or three strips of material sufficiently stout to resist all his struggles, and in a comparatively short space of time the tory was bound hand and foot, with one sleeve of his own garment stuffed inside his mouth as a gag. he was powerless now either to move or speak, and only when the work was accomplished did the boys fully realize that they had, perhaps, injured themselves by thus temporarily turning the tables. "it would have been better had we let him go his own gait," evan said in a whisper as he drew nathan toward the window where the helpless tory could not overhear his words. "of course we cannot hope to keep him here longer than morning, and it is hardly likely the redcoats will suffer him to be absent so many hours without making certain he is safe. once the troopers come we shall suffer for this bit of pleasantry." "they are not like to put in an appearance for several hours yet, more especially if the villain gave out that he would stand guard until weary of the sport." "yet the end must finally come." nathan started as if a sudden thought had flashed upon him, and turned quickly toward the window as he seized one of the heavy bars. "have you any idea that it might be possible to pull that down?" evan asked wonderingly. "hark you, lad," and now nathan appeared like one laboring under great excitement. "why might we not escape? the britishers will have no care for us while it is believed that sneak is acting as sentinel, and if one of these bars could be removed, we might count on at least an hour's start." "but there is no hope of our being able to remove the barrier." "who shall say until it has been tried?" "i am certain that with our bare hands we might tug and strain until morning without so much as loosening one of the fastenings." it was as if this suggestion excited nathan to a yet more brilliant flight of fancy in the line of escape, for suddenly he darted toward the door where he stood a moment in the attitude of a listener, and then retracing his steps, whispered to evan: "it is almost certain the britishers are on the floor below. this tory has the key of the door in his pocket----" "surely you are not thinking of attempting to make your way down past all those who have taken possession of the house?" "by no means; yet what will prevent our venturing into some of the chambers nearby, where perchance we shall find what will serve as a lever to remove these bars." evan seized his comrade's hands ecstatically. there was every reason to believe such a venture might be made, and without waiting to discuss it he began searching ephraim's pockets for the key. this was soon found. a bulky iron instrument fashioned by hand, and mostlike brought from the mother country, it could not well be concealed. cautiously, lest the slightest grating of the iron should give the alarm, the boys shot the bolt back; the door was opened, and they were at last free of the upper portion of the house. it was not safe to loiter in their work, however, for at any moment some one might come from below to ascertain what ephraim was doing, and the boys moved as swiftly as they did noiselessly until, when hardly more than a minute had elapsed, they had in their possession such tools as it seemed positive would enable them to effect the purpose. an old musket barrel, and a strip of oak which went to make up a quilting-frame, were the articles which the lads brought into the room, carefully barring the door behind them and replacing the key in ephraim's pocket. these implements would serve to pry off the bars of the window, but whether it might be done silently or not was a matter that could only be determined by experiment. the helpless spy was watching their every movement, and by bending over him now and then the lads could see, even in the gloom, an expression of anger in his eyes. he must have realized now that the chances in favor of their escape were brought about wholly through his desire to gloat over those whom he believed were in his power. it can readily be believed, however, that the two lads did not spend much time upon the spy. had there been a possibility of taking him with them, they would have run many risks in order to accomplish such a purpose; but since that was out of the question, and he powerless for harm during a certain time at least, they could not afford to waste precious moments upon him. "i will use this bar as a lever, and do you stand by with the musket-barrel to hold such advantage as may be gained," nathan said. "it is reasonable to suppose there will be some creaking as the nails are forced out; but that we cannot prevent." "work as cautiously as may be possible, for we have ample time." the lower bar was within three inches of the window-ledge, and upon this nathan determined to direct his efforts, since it would probably be the most easily removed. the stout quilting-frame was inserted beneath it edgewise, which brought one end some distance into the room, the window-ledge serving as a fulcrum. evan stood near at hand, ready with the musket-barrel in case a shorter lever could be used to better advantage, and, after listening for an instant to make certain that none of the enemy were nearabout on the outside, the boys began that work which it was hoped would open the door to freedom. slowly and steadily the bar was raised upward as the hand-fashioned nails bent under the strain, and then came a creaking as the iron was drawn through the wood; not loud, but sounding in the ears of the anxious lads to be of such volume that it seemed positive an alarm would be given. both ceased their efforts, and stood near the window listening. no unusual sounds betokened that the redcoats had heard the warning noise. all was still save for the sounds of revelry in the apartment below, and the hum of the soldiers' voices nearabout the stables on the other side of the dwelling. "try it again," evan whispered with feverish eagerness. "we have raised it half an inch already, and as much more of a strain will leave it in such shape that it can be readily pushed aside." [illustration: nathan did as his comrade suggested, and save for a slight creaking now and then, the work was carried on.--page .] nathan did as his comrade suggested, and save for a slight creaking now and then, the work was carried on in almost perfect silence until the bar hung only by the points of the nails. it remained simply to force it outward with their hands, at the same time preventing it from falling to the ground. with this removed, the aperture would be sufficiently large to admit of their crawling through, and the time had come, thanks to the spy who would have taken their lives had his power been sufficient, that they might follow on the trail of sarah dillard to greene's spring, if her mad ride had not led her to death elsewhere. "there is no reason why we should waste any time here," evan said hurriedly, nervous now that the moment for action had arrived. "the redcoats may come at any moment to see how their spy is faring, and it would be a grievous disappointment to find ourselves checked at the instant when it seems as if we were freed." "i have got just one word to say to that tory villain, and then i am ready," nathan replied. "do you push off the bar, taking good care that it does not drop from your hands, while i warn him of what will surely be his fate if he continues on the road he has chosen." evan acted upon this suggestion as nathan kneeled by the side of ephraim and whispered: "you can have the satisfaction of knowing that we would yet be fast prisoners but for your having come to bully us. until the moment you threatened to strike i had no idea escape would be possible; but the opportunity has arrived, and we shall take advantage of it. now hark you, master sowers, and remember all i say, for there be more than evan and i who will carry out this threat. continue your spying upon the americans, serve the britishers longer, and you shall be marked for what may be worse than death. when the life of such as you is necessary in the cause of freedom no one would hesitate to take it, coward and sneak though you be. turn about from your ways this moment, or expect that the hand of every mountain man and every american soldier will be against you." ephraim twisted about as if it would have pleased him right well could he have spoken at that moment, but the gag choked his words, and he perforce remained silent however much he would have liked to use his voice. then all was ready for the flight. the bar had been removed, and evan stood beside the window impatient to be off, fearing each instant lest one of the enemy should ascend the stairs. "go you ahead," nathan whispered, "and if when you reach the ground the redcoats appear, do your best to make good your escape, thinking not of me." "i will never desert a comrade." "you must in this case, if it so be opportunity for flight presents itself. it is not your life nor mine, evan, which is of moment now. we must remember only those who are in such great peril, for i have many doubts as to whether sarah dillard can force that colt over the mountain road. hesitate no longer; but set out, and from this instant cease to think of anything save that you are to arrive at colonel clarke's encampment without loss of time." thus urged, evan delayed no longer than was necessary, but a certain number of seconds were spent in the effort to force his body through the narrow aperture, because of the awkward position which the circumstances demanded. with nathan's help he pushed his feet through first, and when half his body was outside, allowed himself to slip down at the expense of severe scratching from the bar, which yet remained in position above, until he hung by his hands on the window-ledge. "the distance is not great," nathan whispered encouragingly, "and you should be able to drop without making much noise. do not speak once you are on the ground; but get behind the smaller stable as soon as may be, and if in five minutes i do not join you, push on toward greene's spring alone." "you will not delay?" "not so much as a minute. now drop." a slight jar, such as might have been made by a child leaping from a height of ten feet, was all that came back to the anxious listener at the window to tell of his comrade's movements, and then he in turn set about following the example. now it was that ephraim made strenuous efforts to free himself. he writhed to and fro on the floor as if bending all his energies to break the bonds which confined his limbs, and so fearful was nathan lest the tory spy should succeed in his purpose, that he turned back to make certain the boy was yet helpless. "i am almost tempted to pay off the score 'twixt you and i before leaving; but it would be cowardly to strike one who is helpless, i suppose," the lad said half to himself, and then turned resolutely, as if finding it difficult to resist the temptation, setting off on the road to freedom. it was not as easy to force himself out between the ledge and the bar as in the case of evan, because of his being considerably larger, and the clothing was literally torn from his back before he was finally in a position where nothing more was required than to drop to the ground. it appeared to him as if he made double as much noise as had his comrade, and before daring to creep across the stable-yard to the rendezvous agreed upon, he remained several seconds on the alert for the slightest sound betokening the movements of the britishers. no unusual noise came upon his ear, and saying to himself that it was hardly possible he and evan had succeeded in making their escape with so little difficulty, he pushed cautiously forward until, when he was within the gloom of the building, his comrade seized him by the hands. this was no time for conversation, nor was it the place in which to loiter. advantage must be taken of every second from this instant until they had carried the warning to colonel clarke's men, or learned that sarah dillard had succeeded in her ride, and nathan pressed evan's hand in token that they should push forward without delay. the direct trail was well defined, and the boys struck into it an hundred yards or more from the stable, when nathan whispered triumphantly: "now that we have succeeded in making our escape, evan, it is only a question of endurance, and we must not think of self until after having met sarah dillard, or had speech with colonel clarke." chapter v. sarah dillard. nathan and evan had good cause for self-congratulations. the escape had been accomplished almost as if the enemy themselves contributed to its success, and so long as the two remained within earshot of the plantation, nothing was heard to betoken that their flight had been discovered. thanks to the fact that ephraim sowers had taken it upon himself to wreak a little private revenge simply because the lads had discovered his true nature, the britishers would rest content, believing their prisoners were secure under his guard, and it might be several hours before any member of major ferguson's party had sufficient curiosity to inquire regarding the young tory's absence. unless, perchance, he was to act as guide for the party who would march to greene's spring, neither englishman nor tory would have use for the spy before daylight, and it was quite within the range of possibility that he might remain gagged and bound upon the floor of the improvised prison until the troop was ready to resume the march next morning. once they were clear of the dwelling nathan and evan wasted little thought on ephraim. when the time should come that they might make known his true character among those who had befriended the lad, then would they remember him to some purpose; but while they were pressing forward through the thicket at full speed, now catching a glimpse of the footprints of sarah dillard's horse, and again being convinced that he had left the trail, it was as if ephraim had no existence. many times before the first three miles of distance had been traversed did they speculate as to the probable time when major ferguson would send forward those men who were to butcher or capture the little band of americans at the spring; but without arriving at any definite conclusion. from the dillard plantation to the encampment concerning which ephraim had given information, was no less than twenty miles, and in case the horsemen should be selected to do the bloody work, about three hours would be required for the journey. if the foot-soldiers were chosen for the task, then six hours would be none too long; but neither of the boys believed the infantry would take part in the proposed maneuver, otherwise the men would most likely have set out before dark. "we can hold certain that the horsemen will make the attack, and i am guessing they will not start before eleven o'clock to-night. they may then fall upon our men between two and three in the morning, when it is said sleep weighs heaviest upon the eyelids, and if neither sarah dillard nor we succeed in getting through to give the alarm, there is little doubt but that all under colonel clarke's command will fall victims." "we _must_ get through," evan cried with energy, and nathan added: "we shall do it, lad; never you fear, for there is like to be nothing that can stop us, unless by some unfortunate chance the troopers begin their journey before we have reckoned on." then once more the boys trudged on in silence until, perhaps ten minutes later, they were brought to a sudden standstill by sounds in the distance which seemed to proclaim the movement of some heavy body through the underbrush. unarmed as they were, flight was their only defence, and the two bent forward in the attitude of listeners, keenly on the alert for the first indication as to the character of this noisy traveler. at one moment nathan would announce positively that the disturbance was caused by some animal, and again he felt equally certain he could hear in the distance the sound of human voices. "there is only one thing of which i am fully convinced," he said after being thus forced to change his opinion several times. "whoever may be out there yonder is a stranger in this section of the colony, otherwise he would be more careful in proclaiming his whereabouts in such fashion." "in that case we may safely venture to creep up nearer," evan suggested. "so far as i can make out, that disturber of the peace neither lessens nor increases his distance, and we might wait here until the troopers come up without being any the wiser." to this nathan agreed, and the two advanced cautiously pace by pace until suddenly, and at the same instant, a low exclamation of surprise burst from the lips of both. they had recognized sarah dillard's voice, and knew without waiting for further proof that her mad ride had come to a sudden and untimely end. now the two pressed forward at a run, slackening not the pace until they were where such a view could be had of the struggling animal and the courageous woman as was possible in the gloom. "who is it?" she called, hearing the advance of the boys, and there was a ring of alarm in her tone which told that she feared the redcoats might have pushed forward to make the attack. "it is nathan shelby and evan mcdowells," the former cried, and gained some idea of the good woman's surprise when she failed for a moment to speak. "step out here where i may see you; but take care not to further alarm the colt," she said, distrusting the announcement even though she recognized the voice. the boys obeyed, and when mrs. dillard had the proof of her own eyes as to their identity, she demanded to be told how they had succeeded in escaping. "the britishers must have left the plantation, otherwise how could you be here?" "if major ferguson's troop had gone we should have been forced to accompany them, else ephraim sowers has less influence than he believes." then, without waiting for further questioning, and in as few words as possible, nathan explained all, so far as he knew, that had taken place at the plantation immediately after the departure of mrs. dillard, asking as he concluded the story: "was it not possible for you to keep the colt on the trail?" "he threw me when he got nearabout this point; but i contrived to retain hold of the bridle, and have kept him with me, although thus far it has availed me little, since i am unable to remount." "suppose you let either evan or i ride him? there will be less likelihood of his throwing one of us." "i question if you could come so near doing it as i can, for he is acquainted with me, and would not allow either of you to approach him." "i can ride any horse that another can bridle," nathan replied confidently, as he went toward the colt, who during this brief conversation had been standing comparatively quiet. it was much as if he had heard the rash assertion, and was determined to prove it false, for the boy had no sooner begun to advance than he reared and plunged in such a frantic manner that mrs. dillard well-nigh lost her hold of the bridle. "it is useless for you to attempt it," she said as soon as the animal had quieted down somewhat. "he has been accustomed to no one but me, and because i had been able to lead him by the halter, did i venture to put on the bridle." "there seems little chance you will be able to mount," evan said after a brief pause, "and every moment increases the danger to those at greene's spring. no one can say how soon the britishers may set out, and there are not less than eighteen miles to be traversed." "i know it," mrs. dillard cried like one nearly frantic with apprehension. "i know it, and yet what may be done? it is certain neither of you boys can come as near managing the horse as i, and yet, i am unable to remount." "would you venture to lead him back?" "to what end?" "evan and i might push forward on foot, trusting to getting through in time." "and there is little chance you could succeed, lads. eighteen miles over this rough road would require certainly no less than six hours, and before that time has passed the redcoats must have overtaken you." then mrs. dillard turned her attention to soothing the colt, and during five minutes or more the boys waited with ill-concealed impatience as he alternately advanced to receive her caresses, and then reared and plunged when she attempted to throw her arm over his neck. "it is better we push ahead, trusting to the poor chance of arriving in time, than to stand here idle," nathan said at length. "i do not believe you could force him to keep the trail even though you succeed in remounting." "it must be done," mrs. dillard cried sharply. "there is no other means by which we may be certain of warning those who are in danger, and the colt shall be made to perform his part." "how can we help you?" the anxious woman looked about her an instant as if trying to decide how the task might be accomplished, and then she said in the tone of one who ventures upon an experiment: "suppose you two come up gently toward him, one on each side, with the idea of seizing him by the bridle. if that could be done, and you were able to hold him a few seconds, i promise to get upon his back." "and perhaps only to have your brains dashed out the next instant." "there is no reason why we should speculate as to the result. i must mount him, boys, and he must be made to go forward. it is our only hope, and when so many lives hang in the balance it surely seems as if the good lord would permit that i should do what at this moment appears to be impossible." neither evan nor nathan believed they could on foot traverse the distance which lay between them and greene's spring before the britishers should arrive, and yet at the same time they had little hope the restive animal would be brought into submission; but at the moment it seemed to be the only alternative, and without delay they set about acting upon mrs. dillard's suggestion. making a short detour through the bushes, they came up on his flank, on either side, while the animal reared and plunged until it seemed certain he would shake off the woman's hold upon the bridle. then with a sudden dash both boys gained his head at the same instant, and this much of the work was accomplished. now the animal redoubled his efforts to escape, frightened by the touch of strangers; but the boys held bravely on, at times raised high from the ground, until it became a question as to whether the bridle would stand the strain which was put upon it. "don't let go," nathan cried as the colt made a more furious leap, forcing evan to jump quickly aside lest he be struck by the animal's hoofs. "don't let go, and we may possibly so far tire him out that mrs. dillard can mount." "she could not ride this beast even though he was saddled," evan muttered, now losing all hope that the message might be delivered in time. during such while as the boys had been struggling with the colt, mrs. dillard stood dangerously near his flanks, watching for an opportunity, and evan had no more than uttered his gloomy prediction when, clutching the animal's mane with her left hand, she vaulted on to his back, seizing the bridle as she leaped. "now if you can head him up the trail, you may let go," she said hurriedly; but nathan was not minded captain dillard's wife should ride to what seemed almost certain death without another protest from him. "the colt is maddened by his struggles with us, and in far more dangerous a condition than when you first mounted. it is madness to think of attempting to make your way through the thicket in the darkness. i implore you to give over the attempt, and let us press on as best we may afoot." "now you are asking that i leave these brave men, and among them my husband, to be surprised by an enemy that knows no mercy, for it is positive you could not get through in time. turn the colt, if it so be you can, and once he is headed in the right direction, jump aside." "shall we do it?" evan asked, for even now it was in his mind to disobey the brave woman's commands. [illustration: the colt darted forward at full speed with mrs. dillard.--page .] "ay, i see no other course," nathan replied, and then he devoted all his energies toward carrying out her instructions. not less than five minutes were spent in the battle between the boys and the animal, and then the former were the conquerers so far as having turned him around was concerned. "now stand ready to let him go, and leap back out of the way," mrs. dillard cried. "then do you press on at your best speed in case i am thrown again, and forced to give over this method of traveling." "are you ready?" evan cried. "ay, when you say the word." "let go!" as the boys leaped back the colt darted forward at full speed, wildly lashing out with his hind feet, and in a twinkling the animal and his rider were lost to view in the gloom. "she will have earned captain dillard's life, whether it be saved or not; but it will be at the expense of her own, for there is not a man in the carolinas who can keep that beast on this mountain trail." "it would have been better if we had not met her," evan said gloomily, "for then she would have been forced to go back, instead of riding to her death as she is now doing." to this nathan made no reply, and while one might have counted twenty the two lads stood on the trail in the darkness as if there was nothing more for them to do this night. it was evan who first aroused himself to a full realization of the situation, and he said, much like one who awakes from a troubled dream: "it is not for us to waste precious time here, nathan. believing that sarah dillard cannot gain greene's spring, we must press forward at the best of our ability, for there is a slight hope we may arrive in time to give the alarm, although it hardly seems possible at this moment." "you are right, evan, and from this instant there shall be no halting," nathan cried, as he set out with a regular, swinging gait, which promised to carry him at a speed of not less than three miles an hour. now, being fully convinced that the safety of colonel clarke's men depended entirely upon themselves, they hastened onward without thought of fatigue, making no halt save now and then when they stopped to refresh themselves with water from a mountain stream. the gloom was now so dark that it was impossible to distinguish any imprints on the trail, and, consequently, the lads could form no idea as to whether sarah dillard was yet keeping in the direct course, or if the colt swerved from one side to the other, carrying her amid the underbrush, where she must inevitably be killed. until they believed midnight was come nathan and evan had pressed steadily forward, and then came that sound which told them all their efforts were vain. from the rear could be heard faintly the sound of horses' hoofs, and involuntarily the two halted. "the britishers are coming!" evan whispered, and nathan's voice was tremulous as he replied: "they started even sooner than i feared, and all our efforts are vain so far, for it is not less than six miles from here to greene's spring." "and our friends will be butchered!" "there is hardly one chance in a hundred but that the surprise will be complete, in which case we know what must be the result." they had ceased to believe in even the possibility that sarah dillard might have accomplished the journey in safety, and accepted it as a fact that the plans of the enemy, laid on information brought by ephraim sowers, would be carried through successfully. nearer and nearer came the horsemen until the two lads could hear the hum of conversation among the men before they realized the necessity of concealing themselves. no good could be accomplished, so far as those at greene's spring were concerned, by their capture, and it was reasonable to suppose much harm might come to themselves after they were carried back to where ephraim sowers might wreak his vengeance upon them. until this evening the young tory had had no cause for enmity save on account of their having discovered his true character; but now, after remaining gagged and bound a certain number of hours, he must be panting for revenge, and it might be that major ferguson would not check him. so long had they thus remained as if dazed that there was hardly time to conceal themselves in the underbrush a few feet distant from the trail before the foremost of the horsemen came into view. the enemy were riding in couples, and from his hiding-place evan counted ninety pairs of riders before the whole of the troop had passed. then it seemed as if fortune was determined to play her most scurvy trick upon these two lads, whose one desire was to save the lives of their friends. evan, who had crouched on one knee when he first sank behind the bushes, endeavored to change his position in order to relieve the strain upon his limb, and by so doing slipped on a rotten branch, which broke beneath his weight with a report seemingly as loud as that of a pistol-shot. instantly the troopers halted immediately opposite, and before the boys could have taken refuge in flight, two having dismounted, plunged into the underbrush. all this had been done so quickly that the fugitives literally had no time to flee, and hardly more than thirty seconds elapsed from the breaking of the twig until each lad was held roughly and firmly in the clutch of a soldier. "what's wrong in there?" an officer from the trail shouted, and one of the captors replied as he dragged his prey out into the open: "we have found a couple of young rebels, and they look much like the two we left behind us at the plantation." word was passed ahead for the entire troop to halt, and an officer whom the boys afterward recognized as a tory by the name of dunlap, who held the king's commission as colonel, came riding back. "who are you?" he asked as the troopers forced their prisoners in front of them on the trail where they might most readily be seen. "nathan shelby and evan mcdowells." "how is it you are here? are you not the same who were taken prisoners this evening and confined in the dillard house?" "we are," nathan replied without hesitation. "how did you escape?" "ephraim sowers was sent, or came of his own will, to make us march around the room by way of punishment." "no such orders as that could have been given by major ferguson." "i know not how that may be; but ephraim acted the part of jailer, and commanded us to do his bidding, which was none other than that we march around the room even though we had been afoot all day." "that doesn't explain how you escaped?" "ephraim was unarmed, but threatened to strike us when we refused. the result was the same as if almost any one else had been in our position. we made ephraim a prisoner, and then, by forcing off one of the wooden bars, slipped out of the window." "then the boy is yet there?" the colonel said, as if in surprise that such should be the case. "ay, if he has not been released. we left him safely enough." nathan believed that he and evan would be roughly treated so soon as that which they had done was made known; but the troopers appeared to think it a laughing matter, and even the colonel who was in charge of the detachment did not look upon it with any great degree of severity, for he said after a brief pause: "ephraim must remain where he is until our return, and perhaps after this night he will be more careful when he puts himself into the power of his enemies. you who have taken the prisoners shall guard them until we have finished our work, and then it is likely we will have more to keep them company. mount, and see to it that the rebels do not make their escape again." the troopers obeyed, pulling the two lads after them into the saddle, with many a threat as to what would be the result if there was any resistance, until nathan said, but without show of temper or impatience: "we are willing to ride, and shall not be so foolish as to resist when the odds are so strongly against us." "we are not in the humor to put up with any more rebel tricks this night, and at the first show of an attempt to escape i shall use my knife in a way that won't be pleasant," the trooper replied as he put spurs to his horse, and the detachment rode three or four miles further before slackening pace. then they were come in the vicinity of greene's spring, and the boys who had already braved so much in the hope of being able to warn their friends in danger, believed that the time was very near at hand when they must perforce see colonel clarke's men ruthlessly cut down or captured. chapter vi. greene's spring. many wild plans came into nathan's mind during the short time the main body of the detachment were halted while skirmishers went ahead to ascertain if ephraim had correctly described the situation of affairs. it seemed to him at this moment as if he must do something toward warning the friends of freedom of the danger which menaced, and was ready to act, whatever might be the cost to him. once he said to himself that he would wait until they were come nigh to the encampment, and then he and evan should cry aloud at the full strength of their lungs, even though the britishers killed them an instant later--their lives would count for but little if these others who were so necessary to the colonists might be saved. a moment's reflection served to convince him that such a plan was impracticable, and in casting it aside he came to believe that possibly he and evan might succeed in getting hold of one of the troopers' muskets sufficiently long to discharge it. anything which would make noise enough to arouse the sleeping men might answer his purpose, and yet he racked his brain in vain to hit upon that which should give promise of being successful. neither he nor evan had an opportunity for private conversation. the two troopers held the lads six or eight feet from each other, as if suspecting they might plot mischief if allowed freedom of speech, and therefore it was they had no opportunity of comparing plans which had for their end only the welfare of colonel clarke's forces. at the expiration of ten minutes word was passed along the line for the men to advance slowly, and every precaution was taken as the command was obeyed, to prevent even so much as the rattle of their accoutrements, lest by such means the americans be apprised of the horrible fate in store for them. soon the detachment was come within a quarter of a mile, as nearly as evan and nathan could judge, of the spot colonel clarke had selected for the encampment, and now no man spoke above a whisper. "this is serious business on which we are bent this night," the trooper who held nathan captive whispered threateningly, and standing so near evan that he also might overhear the words, "and the lives of two boys like you would not be allowed to come betwixt us and our purpose. therefore take heed, lads, that our orders are to kill you in cold blood rather than allow any alarm to be given. now if it so chanced that you struck your foot against my musket, or shouted, or did anything to break the silence, i should consider it my duty to obey the commands, and as soon as might be one or both of you would be past all danger. take an old soldier's advice, and make the best of a bad matter. it is no longer possible you can warn your friends, and the most you could accomplish would be your own death." there was little need for the trooper to make this plain statement of the situation, for both the boys understood full well how summarily they would be dealt with in case they failed to obey any orders given by the men. now whispered commands came down the line for the soldiers to dismount, and for every fifth trooper to remain in the rear to care for the horses. when this command had been obeyed, and the animals tied with their heads together in groups of five, it was found that the man who held evan prisoner was thus detailed to care for the animals, while his comrade belonged to the force which would advance. therefore it was that nathan's captor turned him over to the other trooper, saying as he did so: "if you have any doubts as to being able to keep these young rebels in proper subjection, i will truss them up before leaving; but it seems to me one englishman can care for five horses and two boys, without any very great amount of difficulty." "i am not afraid but that it can be done after some sort of fashion, yet i had rather not kill a lad even though he be a rebel, so if it is all the same to you, pass a couple of those saddle-straps over their arms, and i'll be more certain of keeping them here without using a bullet." the trooper did as he was requested, and the boys were fettered in such a manner as precluded all possibility of escape. with both arms stretched to their sides flight was out of the question, and the hearts of the lads were heavy in their breasts, for they must remain in the rear while the redcoats went on to do the slaughtering. "i could kill ephraim sowers and never believe i had committed a murder," nathan whispered when the two, placed back to back, were fastened to a convenient tree. "all the blood spilled this night will be upon his head, and that brave men should meet their death through such as him makes it all the more pitiful." "there is a chance sarah dillard succeeded in getting through to the spring," evan whispered in a tremulous tone. "i cannot believe it. the captain himself would never have made such a doubtful venture, and surely a woman could not succeed where he must have failed." now those of the troopers who had not been detailed to the care of the horses, were ordered forward, and soon only the animals, with perhaps twenty men to guard them, remained in this portion of the thicket. not a sound betrayed the movements of the redcoats as they advanced to do what seemed little less than murder. even the boys, knowing how many were making their way through the underbrush, listened in vain for the slightest noise which should tell of the progress. a band of indians could hardly have moved more stealthily, and unless the members of the little encampment were already on the alert, the doom of all was sealed. the suspense of the boys became so great as the moments passed that they could not carry on a conversation. speculations were vain when in a few seconds the dreadful reality would be upon them, and their hearts beat so violently that it was as if the blood must burst from their veins. the seconds passed like moments, and yet all too swiftly as the lads realized what time must bring to their friends. it seemed to nathan as if they had remained there silent and motionless fully an hour listening for the first sound of the conflict, or the massacre, whichever it might be, and yet all was as silent as when the troopers left. he began to fancy that both sarah dillard and ephraim sowers had been mistaken in believing colonel clarke's men were encamped at the spring, and when this thought had grown in his mind until it was almost a well-defined hope, the first musket-shot rang out. "the murderers have begun," he said to his comrade in a voice so choked by emotion that the words sounded strange and indistinct. then came a volley--a second and a third, and the troopers who held the horses started in astonishment, perhaps fear, for this was not the absolute surprise on which they had counted. now the rattle of musketry increased until there could be no question but that it was a conflict, and not a massacre, which was taking place. by some means the patriots had been warned in due season, and were ready to meet the foe, as they ever had been. "it is sarah dillard's ride that has saved them!" evan exclaimed as if questioning the truth of his own statement, and straightway nathan fell to weeping, so great was the relief which came upon him as he realized that the friends of freedom had been prepared for the foe. the troopers nearabout the boys were so excited and astonished, because what they had counted on as being a complete surprise proved to have been a failure, that no one heard evan's remark, and the prisoners could have shouted for very joy when the men began speculating one with the other as to how word might have been sent to the patriots. "it is certain they were ready to receive us," one man said as if in anger because the plan was miscarrying. "that firing is being done by men who were ready for battle as were ours. there has been a traitor in the camp." "how might that be?" another asked fiercely. "at the last halting-place we were twenty miles from the rebel encampment, and certain it is no one could have ridden ahead of us." "these two boy did succeed in escaping, despite the fact that major ferguson believed them to be safe in the chamber of the dwelling." "ay; but what does that prove? we overtook them on the way, and surely you cannot claim that they might have walked twenty miles from the time of escaping until they were recaptured?" the rattle of musketry increased, and to the eager ears of the boys it seemed as if the noise of the conflict was approaching, which would indicate that the britishers were being driven back. "does it appear to you as if we heard those sounds more clearly?" nathan asked, hoping he had not been mistaken, and yet feeling almost certain the patriots could do but little more than hold their own. "i am positive of it!" evan cried with a ring of joy and triumph in his tone. "now and then i can hear voices even amid the tumult, and that was impossible five minutes ago." one of the troopers, overhearing this remark, said to his comrade gloomily: "the rebels are getting the best of us, who counted on taking them completely by surprise." "there is no doubt of that," the other soldier replied, and straightway the men began making the horses ready for departure, as if they expected their comrades would come back in full flight, and need the means of continuing it. when five minutes more had passed there was no longer any question as to the result of the combat. by this time the british were so near where the horses had been left that now and then stray bullets whistled among the branches above the heads of the prisoners, and the two lads began debating how it might be possible for them to escape when the troop should be in full flight. however kind fortune had been to the americans on this night, she was not so indulgent as to give the lads their liberty. as could be told from the rattle of musketry, the british made a stand after fifteen minutes' or more of hot fighting, and the americans, having accomplished as much, and, perhaps, even more than they had expected, were willing the invaders should draw off if such was their disposition. in less than half an hour from the time they set out to massacre the supposedly sleeping encampment, the redcoats had returned, and, standing by their horses, awaiting the command to mount. now it was that even in the gloom the boys could see how many of the animals were without riders. there had been no empty saddles when the troop rode up, and now on looking around there was hardly a squad of horses where more than two out of five had a man standing by his side. "the slaughter was not wholly among our friends," evan whispered to nathan, and the latter, bent only on trying to escape, said hurriedly: "think of nothing but yourself just now. there must be a chance for us to give them the slip amid all this confusion." he had no more than spoken before one of the officers came up and asked of those standing near by: "who had charge of these lads?" the two troopers who had made the capture replied to the question, and then came the order: "see to it that you hold them fast. there is no reason why your own beasts should carry double while there are so many spare horses; but lash them firmly to the saddles, for major ferguson must have speech with them by daylight." "we are to suffer because the britishers have been repulsed," evan whispered, and nathan replied manfully: "much can be endured, knowing as we do all that has taken place this night. while i am not hankering to come into the power of ephraim sowers again, as most like we shall, it will be less painful now this bloody plan has gone awry." considerable time was spent before the remnants of the detachment began the return march. there were many wounded to be cared for, and a number so badly injured that they must remain behind. some of the dead were to be buried, and the soldiers who had fallen nearest the encampment must have the last office performed for them by those whom they would have massacred. finally all was in readiness. nathan and evan, each on a trooper's horse with his feet tied beneath the saddle, were given a place just in advance of their captors and about midway of the troop. colonel dunlap and his officers set out in advance. the command to "march" was given, and the crestfallen redcoats turned their faces toward captain dillard's plantation. now it was impossible for the prisoners to speak one with the other; during four hours they endured a most painful journey, bound in such manner that their limbs became cramped, and it was as if all the blood in their bodies had been forced toward their heads. the lads were hardly conscious during the last hour of that painful march, and when, arriving at the plantation, the ropes were unloosed, they would have fallen to the ground but for the assistance of those who guarded them. ephraim sowers was awaiting the return of those who had gone out because of the information he brought, and he gave vent to a loud cry of vindictive joy when he saw them bringing the two he most desired to see. he was near at hand when the prisoners reeled helplessly in the saddles, and as they were laid upon the ground the young spy advanced as if to kick them; but was forced back by one of the soldiers, who said sharply: "none of that, you young renegade. we who wear the king's uniform are not a band of painted savages; but men who fight fairly, never disgrace themselves by striking a helpless or an unarmed man." "these rebels belong to me. i was in charge of them when they escaped, and shall work my will on them!" ephraim cried in a rage as he attempted to force himself past the soldier. "not while i am standing nearby, unless you have major ferguson's written permission, and that i much misdoubt you will get." it was useless for ephraim to insist that these lads were his special property, and after learning that some of the men looked with favor upon his intention of torturing them as punishment for their having escaped, he went post haste to the commander. some of the redcoats had given the prisoners water, and in a short time they revived sufficiently to be conscious of all that was going on about them. it was at the moment ephraim returned that they sat upright, and to their surprise he made no attack upon them, but contented himself by saying threateningly: "before this day comes to an end i will have got even with you for last night's work, and you may be certain i shall settle the score with full measure." "since you failed in sending death to those at greene's spring, we can well afford to listen to your threats," nathan replied, and then refused to so much as look toward the spy. from the fact that ephraim lingered nearby it seemed positive he must have received some promise regarding the custody of the prisoners from major ferguson; but yet as the time passed he made no effort to interfere with them, and when the detachment had been at the plantation an hour or more, a messenger came with orders that the two lads be taken into the house, where the commander would have speech with them. "now has come the time when we shall see how far that tory sneak may be allowed to go," nathan whispered to his comrade. "do not give him the satisfaction of knowing that we suffer, whatever he may find an opportunity of doing." "i shall keep my thoughts on sarah dillard's ride and its result, and then all pain will be blunted," evan replied, after which the two followed limpingly (for the blood was not yet circulating properly in their veins) the messenger who had come for them. major ferguson, colonel dunlap, captain depuyster, and four or five other officers were in the dining-room of captain dillard's home when the boys entered, and from the conversation which was being had at that moment nathan believed they were discussing the question of how colonel clarke might have been warned. this supposition seemed to be correct when the major asked abruptly: "after you lads escaped from this building, did you meet any one on the road to greene's spring?" for an instant nathan hesitated to tell that which was a falsehood; but it must be done unless he would betray the woman whose brave ride of the night previous had saved so many lives, and there was only the slightest pause before he replied: "from the time we got away from ephraim sowers until your men recaptured us, we saw no person save those who belonged to the plantation." "when did you last see the mistress of the house, mrs. dillard?" "we saw her when we were taken upstairs." "did you have any further communication with her?" "she spoke with us while we were in the room--she standing on the outside of the locked door." "will you swear that she did not enter the room?" "yes; for if she had been able to do that much, i have no doubt she would have aided us to escape." "did you have no assistance when you got out of the room which had been converted into a prison?" "none except from your spy, ephraim sowers," nathan replied, and then he told of the circumstances of the affair, showing that but for the young tory's vindictiveness the boys would yet have remained in confinement. "will you swear that you sent no word to colonel clarke's forces?" "yes, sir," both the lads replied at the same instant, and with such emphasis that there could be no question but that they were telling the truth. then the officer questioned them concerning where they would have gone but for having been overtaken by the troopers; inquired concerning their families, and such other seemingly unimportant matters, to all of which they gave truthful replies. perhaps twenty minutes had thus been spent when major ferguson turned his head from them as if the interview was at an end, and nathan, with a mind fully made up to make known the threats in which ephraim had indulged, asked: "is it to be, sir, that the boy who would have ill-treated us when we were supposed to be powerless, will have an opportunity now to take his revenge?" "who gave you to understand anything of the kind?" "he himself, sir. he has already boasted that we shall suffer for what we did to him, although it was no more than one soldier might do to another. he was in our power, and we could have abused him; yet we stayed our hands, save so far as to put him in such condition that an alarm could not be given." "i ought to have you hanged offhand." "but we have done nothing, sir, save to escape from one who would have tortured us." "you are rebels, and that is sufficient reason why you merit death; but there is work i would have you do, and for that reason your lives will be spared. i wish to send a message to all those rebels round about who are now in arms against the king, and if you swear to faithfully repeat my words, you shall go free from this plantation within an hour." the boys could hardly believe their ears were not deceiving them. that they should be set free at so small a price, and in face of all the threats ephraim sowers had made, was news so joyful as to be incredible, and their astonishment was such that neither made reply until the major asked impatiently: "well, well, do you refuse to do even that much in order to earn your liberty?" "indeed we do not, sir," nathan cried eagerly. "we are willing to repeat whatsoever you desire, and to as many as you shall say, no matter how far it may be necessary to travel." "are you acquainted with all the rebel leaders hereabouts?" "with nearly all of them, sir; and i promise that captain dillard, colonel mcdowells, or colonel campbell--all three gentlemen with whom we have acquaintance--will put us on the way to find those others in this section." "and you swear faithfully to repeat every word of the message i give you, to each of those rebels who is in command of a dozen or more men?" "yes, sir." "mind, i am saying that you deserve to be hanged; but at the same time i am in need of messengers, and believe that even though you are among the enemies to the king, i can trust you two." "we will perform all that we promise, sir." "and see to it that you do. i am sent into this portion of the carolinas by general cornwallis to crush the spirit of rebellion, and here i shall stay until my work be finished. therefore if you lads attempt to play me false there will come a reckoning, for we shall meet again." "even though we be rebels in the sight of the king, we hold to our word, and that both of us have given. we will swear to it in whatsoever manner may be most convincing to you, sir." "i shall take your word, knowing that the time will speedily come when i can punish you to the fullest extent if you break it. now say to all the rebels in and about this section of the colonies, even though you are forced to travel many a day, that i have come from general cornwallis' army unhampered by any orders other than those to crush out the spirit of rebellion, and that if they do not desist from their armed resistance to the king's commands and take protection under my standard, i will march my army over the mountains, hang their leaders, and lay waste their country with fire and sword." these words he required the boys to repeat for him twice over, and that done, he added: "remember what will be the result if you attempt to deceive me. now go, and see to it that you rest not until the message be delivered to all those in rebellion within a circle of fifty miles. captain depuyster, will you take care that they have safe conduct outside our line of sentinels. if the boy sowers chooses to follow them in the hope of getting his revenge, it will not be in my power to prevent him." then with a gesture nathan and evan were dismissed, and they walked out of the room as if in a daze, for it did not seem to them possible they had thus been dismissed from captivity. chapter vii. at watuga. captain depuyster, who had been charged by major ferguson with seeing that the boys were passed through the line of sentinels surrounding the encampment, lingered behind for a moment to speak with the commander, and the newly-released prisoners were still in such a maze of bewilderment at having been given their liberty that they failed to realize there might be necessity for a captain's escort. they went out of the dwelling, past the sentinels at the door in silence; it was as if neither dared to speak lest the sound of his voice might cause the british commander to reconsider his determination. without so much as looking behind them to learn if captain depuyster was following, for as a matter of fact they hardly heard the command which major ferguson gave relative to their departure, they went straight from the door toward the trail which led to greene's spring; but before having advanced twenty paces they were brought to a halt as ephraim sowers stepped in front of them. "have a care you rebels!" the tory cried threateningly. "don't get the idea that you can run away whenever the fancy takes you, for i am not to be caught at a disadvantage every hour in the day, as i was last night." "if we come in contact with you again there will be more damage done than when we contented ourselves with making you prisoner," nathan said sharply. "stand aside, or it will be the worse for you." ephraim looked up in surprise that the prisoners should have retained such an independent bearing after their interview with the major, for he counted upon their having been reduced to abject submission. he was not to be frightened by their threats, however, now that he was in the open air with the redcoated soldiery all around him; and instead of obeying nathan's command he brandished his fists as he cried: "get back to the house until i can learn what is to be done with you." "we will give you the information without any necessity for your returning," evan said with a laugh, which only served to irritate the tory. "we have major ferguson's permission to depart, and count on doing so without allowing ourselves to be delayed by such as you." "major ferguson's permission to depart!" ephraim repeated stupidly. "step aside, or we may be called upon to put you out of our path with more force than is agreeable." "you lie when you say the major has released you!" "hark you, ephraim sowers; i am not minded to get into a brawl hereabouts; but so much as repeat that word, and i shall give no heed as to the consequences," nathan said sternly. "you and i have a long reckoning to be settled, and i do not desire to begin it now; yet i shall if you are not choice of your words." ephraim looked from one to the other questioningly, as if trying to decide how he might best reduce these lads to the proper state of submission, and then called peremptorily to a soldier who was passing near by: "hello there! here are two prisoners who count on escaping by pretending that major ferguson has given them permission to depart. come and take them in charge." "are these your orders, or do you repeat some other's words?" "don't stop to talk; but lay hold of these two rebels, lest by sheer boldness they succeed in making off." "best keep a quiet and civil tongue in your head, youngster, for i am not minded to take orders from one who does such dirty work as you," the soldier said surlily, and passed on, leaving ephraim crimson with rage. near by where the boys had been halted was a stack of muskets, and running quickly up to them the tory seized one, regardless of the fact that by so doing he allowed all the others to fall to the ground. then, turning suddenly, he aimed the weapon full at the two lads, crying as he did so: "wheel about, and march back to the house, or i shall shoot. don't think you can get the upperhand of me as readily as you did last night, for i am not minded to deal gently with you now." "ho, there! guard!" a voice cried. "seize that lad and let him be deprived of his liberty until he has sense enough to keep in his own station." the soldier who had refused to obey ephraim wheeled about suddenly upon receiving this command from captain depuyster, who had just come from the dwelling, and before the young tory was well aware of the change in the position of affairs, he was being marched toward the stables, the trooper's hand clutching his collar so tightly as to render breathing a difficult operation. "you can go on now, and see to it that you do not loiter, until you have repeated major ferguson's words to the rebels round about." once more the boys set their faces toward greene's spring, and as they marched rapidly away the captain followed them until they were past the line of sentinels. then he turned on his heel, and the two who had so lately been prisoners slackened not their pace until a mile or more was traversed, when as if with one accord they came to a halt, in order to congratulate each other upon the fortunate and unexpected turn of affairs. it is not necessary to repeat here what they said, for one can well fancy how extravagant were their words and demonstrations of joy at finding themselves free when it had seemed positive they were doomed to a long term of imprisonment, during which time ephraim sowers might often play the part of jailer. they hugged each other as if the thankfulness in their hearts could be thus shown better than by words, and laughed loud and long at the discomfiture of the tory spy, who had counted so certainly on making them atone for their treatment of him. in fact, so elated were the lads that their words as well as gestures were extravagant; perhaps half an hour had thus been spent before either bethought himself that it was necessary they should push ahead with all speed, for no rations had been served since the night previous, and food was not to be obtained until they were among friends once more. once the boys were well on the journey, and after the first excess of joy had passed away, both realized their extreme weariness. the previous day was spent in marching. no sleep had come during the night, and much excitement had tended to increase their fatigue. now twenty miles must be traversed, without food, before they could gain the needed rest, and it is not strange that when another hour passed they found it difficult to continue the advance. more than once evan urged that a halt be made for two or three hours, lest they should not be able to hold out until the end; but nathan steadily refused to listen to any suggestions, and they toiled painfully on, stumbling here or staggering there, hardly conscious of their movements. it was as if in a dream that they finally saw that band of americans who had repulsed the british forces a few hours previous, and then all was a blank, for consciousness literally deserted them. during the remainder of the day and all of the following night the weary lads slept. the sun was rising, and colonel clarke's men were making ready for a change of camp, when captain dillard awakened the lads by shaking each gently by the arm, as he cried in a cheery tone: "rise up, or sleep will wear your eyes out. unless i am much mistaken you are more in need of food just now than of additional slumber, and it is time you were stirring." the boys sprang to their feet refreshed by the long repose, and ravenously hungry, but so eager were they to learn the particulars of the combat which they had heard from the distance that neither realized his need of food. "you shall hear it all very shortly; but it will be on full stomachs, for i am not minded to have you starve yet awhile, and it is sarah's right to tell the story." "then mrs. dillard _did_ get here in time?" nathan cried. "ay, lads, else were we like to have been murdered while we slept. and a brave ride it was; but i am not the one to tell it. come over by the fire, and after you have filled yourselves up i will put you in the way to listen to all which i know you are eager to hear." half an hour later, after they had literally obeyed the injunction to "fill themselves up," the boys and captain dillard were pressing on in advance of the american force, to the dwelling where mrs. dillard had sought shelter, and before noon they had arrived at their destination. there was much to be told on both sides, and as the quickest method of gaining the information he desired, nathan first explained how they had left the british camp, and gave all the details of their advance from the time of parting with mrs. dillard on the mountain trail. then it was his turn to act the part of listener, and eagerly did he and evan drink in the vivid account of that night ride, and the combat which ensued. it seemed as if the colt recognized the uselessness of struggling further against the determined woman who was bent on riding him, for when the boys had let go their hold he darted forward straight as an arrow over the trail, and at full speed. there were many places where the narrow road ran along the side of the mountain, when a single misstep would have thrown him headlong over the cliffs, and yet no mountaineer's steed ever traveled with a surer footing, and at so swift a pace. once only did he make any effort at throwing his rider. then, fortunately, it was in a valley where there were no trees, and sarah dillard was sufficiently expert an equestrienne to baffle him. during ten minutes or more the steed plunged and kicked, and then, as if again becoming convinced that he must carry the life-saving message, he darted onward, slackening not the pace until they were arrived in the midst of the encampment. the amazement of the patriots at seeing the hostess from whom they had so lately parted at such an hour, can well be fancied, and it may also be readily understood that, having accomplished the dangerous journey, sarah dillard lost no time in making known the fateful news which she brought. one word was sufficient to these men who were inured to hardships of every kind and accustomed to face danger in every form. within five minutes after mrs. dillard's arrival they were prepared to give major ferguson's force a warm reception, and so sure were the men in their ability to hold the encampment against the enemy, that a squad of four was sent, as escort to the brave rider, a dozen miles or more away where dwelt one in whose fidelity to the cause there could be no question. the colt, so captain dillard said, had done his share in saving the lives of an hundred men, and he should be called upon to perform no meaner work so long as he might live, than that of bearing on his back the woman who had literally taken her life in her hands when she set out on that perilous ride. as to the combat, the captain dismissed it with few words: "we were ready for the redcoats when they came up, and had been for two hours or more. when the horses were picketed our scouts brought us word, and then it was only a question of figuring in our own minds how long it would take them to creep up on us. "we could see the britishers as they surrounded the encampment; but never a man raised his gun until they had their muskets at their shoulders, and then we sent a volley among them that mowed down a full half of those in the front rank. i thought at the moment that they would retreat without so much as firing a shot, because of the astonishment which must have come over them. fancy, every redcoat there felt certain in his own mind that we would be taken wholly by surprise--that they had simply to fire into a crowd of sleeping men, and it would have staggered the best of soldiers to have a shower of bullets sent among them thus suddenly. "they did give us a volley, however--perhaps half a dozen of them during fifteen minutes that passed from the time we first opened fire until the last musket was discharged, and then i can say truthfully that fully half their number was left behind, for, as we figured it, not more than two hundred came out, and we found dead and wounded ninety-eight. as for ourselves, but one man was harmed by british lead, and he got a bullet through his arm in such fashion that he will not be off duty a single day." "we have buried the dead, sent the disabled over the mountains where they will be well cared for, and now stand prepared to meet major ferguson's force again. but tell me what is the message which he charged you to deliver to all the rebels within fifty miles?" "we are to say to those who fight in the cause of freedom, that major ferguson has come from cornwallis' army unhampered by any orders other than those to crush out the spirit of rebellion, and if you do not desist from your armed resistance to the king's commands, and take protection under his standard, he will march his army over the mountains, hang your leaders, and lay waste the country with fire and sword." "the gentleman has considerable to say for himself, eh?" and captain dillard indulged in a hearty laugh. "i wonder if major ferguson of the seventy-first regiment thinks the men hereabout are of such milk-and-water natures that he can disperse them with a word. if i am not mistaken he tried to lay waste greene's spring with fire and sword, and got decidedly the worst of the attempt. it may so chance that he will fail the next time he tries the same game. however, it is not for you to question his method of making war until after you have paid the price of your release. get you gone as soon as may be, lads, and we will utilize the gallant major's paroled prisoners to the calling together of our men, at the same time his threatening words are repeated. you shall be supplied with horses, and i will write down a list of those 'rebels' holding command nearabout, so that each and every one of them may be visited. having repeated the threat, you shall then say that colonel clarke has heard the message, and gone on to watuga, where he awaits the coming of those who resist the king's commands. in other words, lads, we will make watuga a rendezvous, and the time for all to be there is not later than the th of september." "now get you gone, for there be many miles of traveling, and many days to be spent ere your mission is ended and you have the right to call yourselves free lads once more. ride with all speed, and waste not an hour, for the time has come when general cornwallis shall be taught a lesson, or i am mistaken in my neighbors." thus it was that nathan and evan set off on their long and devious journey with no more of a halt than was necessary to relate their story and hear that which captain and mrs. dillard had to tell. to repeat in detail all their wanderings would form dry reading, therefore let us simply recount what was done from that day until the twenty-fifth of september, when, as captain dillard had arranged, the patriots assembled at watuga. they repeated major ferguson's message to colonel william campbell of washington county, in virginia, and he promised to join the patriots with four hundred men. they had speech with nathan's uncle, colonel isaac shelby, who agreed to bring two hundred and forty from sullivan county in north carolina. lieutenant-colonel john sevier, who received them most hospitably, declared that he, with two hundred and forty of his neighbors from washington county, in north carolina, would start at once for watuga. colonel charles mcdowells, evan's father, returned answer that he, with an hundred and sixty from the counties of burke and rutherford, would join the force, and colonel cleaveland answered for three hundred and fifty from the counties of wilkes and surry; but agreed to join force with the other americans somewhere on the catawba river. colonel james williams urged that the force march to the cowpens, on broad river in south carolina, where he would add four hundred trained soldiers to the command. it was not until the morning of the th of september that nathan and evan completed their work of repeating major ferguson's message and summoning the mountain men to the rendezvous. then they were free, so far as the british officer could have any claim upon them, and believed themselves entitled to a place in the ranks by virtue of what they had done for the cause. many miles had been traversed, some on horseback, many in boats, and not a few afoot. they were received everywhere with the utmost hospitality, and perhaps never were two lads shown more respect than they, because of the fact that they were doing, and had done, the work of men, although only boys. they were justly proud on the day of their arrival at watuga, to be received by these sturdy patriots like equals, and to be besieged on every side with questions as to the general feeling among the people of the districts which they had visited. evan's father gave them a place in his troop, and when some of the men insisted that the boys should be allowed to play the part of officers because of the particular and difficult work they had performed, colonel mcdowells replied: "if it is the purpose of the lads to serve their country, they can best do so with muskets in their hands, but if they simply desire to parade themselves before the people in fine feathers, the carolinas is no place for them. they had better go where they can have better fare and more opportunity for admiration." it troubled the boys but little that, after having been intrusted with important business, they were to have no more responsible part than that of private soldiers, for they knew full well that neither was fitted for a command, and it sufficed that the privilege was given them to serve the cause in howsoever humble capacity. they were in the ranks on that th day of september when the little force went out from watuga down the catawba river, and by the th of october, when the patriots had arrived at the cowpens where colonel williams kept his word by marching up with twenty men more than he had promised, it was said among the men as well as the officers that there were no more promising soldiers in the force than these two lads whose first experience in military matters had been gained as prisoners. during this time they made diligent inquiries of all who might have such information concerning ephraim sowers, but without learning anything whatsoever. "don't let that fret you, lads," captain dillard said when they went into camp at the cowpens, and learned from the scouts that major ferguson's force was encamped not more than thirty miles distant near the cherokee ford of broad river. "don't let that fret you. unless i am very much mistaken, we shall not remain here many hours, for there is a council of war being held, and from what i know of our commanding officers, we shall give the gallant major all the hot work he can desire. then, if your tory spy be not weak-kneed, you will have an opportunity of coming face to face with him, for once we have met this gentleman who proposes to lay waste our country with fire and sword, we shall not leave him until after having made the acquaintance of a goodly number of his men." "but ephraim sowers is not a soldier," evan said with a laugh, "and i am of the opinion that he is weak-kneed." "even then the chances are he yet remains with ferguson's troop, for hark you, lad, the tories have joined the major in such numbers that hereabouts in the carolinas are none left at their homes. the spy must stick to his red-coated friends whom he served so well, or have a mighty lonesome time of it by himself. if i had played his part, doing all in my power to bring about the death of those who had befriended me, i should make it my business to keep ever within sight of a red uniform, lest some of those whose death i had sought to compass might fall upon me. you shall see ephraim sowers and have a long talk with him." "you speak, captain, as if there could be no question of the result, once we are come up with the force." "neither is there, lad. we of the carolinas have each a home to protect, and so many wrongs to avenge that there can be no backward move on our part once the fight is opened." "how many men think you major ferguson can muster?" "in regulars and tories from fourteen to fifteen hundred." "and our own forces?" "not far from seventeen hundred." "then we are the stronger?" "not so, nathan, my boy. did we number two thousand the force would hardly be equal, because of disparity of weapons. the king's troops are well equipped, and they bring with them muskets and ammunition in plenty for the tories who join them. we have only such as each man can provide, and some of us so poorly armed that half a dozen rounds would see the powder-horns and shot pouches emptied. but we are fighting for the cause, and they for the king. in that you have the whole story, and therefore this i say: when we come face to face with major ferguson, as i believe we shall within twenty-four hours, we will stay with him so long that you will have ample time in which to seek out this spy who would have compassed the death of us at greene's spring." chapter viii. the prisoner. nathan and evan were enjoying to the utmost this conversation with captain dillard. it is true they had seen him seldom since the first greeting after sarah dillard's ride; but on each occasion he had appeared much as if trying to show the world that he had espoused respect and admiration for these two lads. this was particularly pleasing to the boys, because captain dillard was one who was choice of his associates, and it was often said that "dillard's friendship was given only to brave men." nathan and evan were proud at being seen with this gallant carolinian as if they were his bosom friends, and when a messenger came from colonel mcdowells summoning them to an interview with the commander of the forces from burke and rutherford, they were not well pleased at being obliged to part company from the man who among all the troops they most admired. with evident reluctance they rose to their feet, and while walking toward colonel mcdowells' quarters, nathan said: "i don't think we did any very gallant deed, evan, when we turned the tables on ephraim sowers, or aided sarah dillard to remount the colt. neither have we done anything of which to boast in repeating major ferguson's message, or summoning friends of the cause to the rendezvous; but yet because of all those adventures have we been marked out before the entire camp as lads with whom captain dillard is pleased to hold conversation, and even though we had suffered much, such a reward would be sufficient." "the captain believes we shall come up with the britishers within twenty-four hours," evan said, as if he had not heard his comrade's remark. "ay, and it is said they are only twenty miles away, eager to meet us." "then there is like to be battle." "ay; how else could it be when both sides are ready to fight?" "and shall you rejoice at finding yourself standing musket in hand before the foe?" "of a verity i shall! why not? would you avoid the encounter if it could be done honorably?" and halting suddenly, nathan looked his comrade full in the face. "it is a shameful thing for a lad to say, of that i am well aware," evan replied hesitatingly; "but i grow timorous at the thought, and have great fear lest i shall betray some signs of cowardice." nathan laughed long and loud. "when captain charles mcdowells' son, he whose grandmother has proven herself on more than one occasion to be as brave as the most courageous men, speaks of showing cowardice, there is reason for laughing." "but i have never stood in line with soldiers during the heat of battle, and fear much lest i should shame my father." "you never have done so yet, lad, and i will answer for it that he has no cause to blush in your behalf. put such idle fancies from your mind, and when the hour comes that we meet major ferguson's force, never fear but that you will be foremost among the friends of freedom." evan would have said more regarding this sudden timorousness which had come upon him, but for the fact that they were then arrived at colonel mcdowells' tent, and the subject of the interview for which he had summoned them was so startling and unexpected as to drive all other thoughts from the boy's mind. "you two, who claim the right to be called soldiers, although never having marched in the ranks until the day we left watuga, know full well that the britishers are within thirty or forty miles of us at this moment." the colonel paused as if for reply, and evan said: "we have heard it so spoken among the men, sir." "you understand, also, that we are like to measure strength with them before many hours?" "yes, sir." "while i cast no discredit on your courage, i am free to say that men who have had more experience in this business will be of greater service to us in time of battle than you lads." "but surely, father, you won't say that we shall not bear our share in the combat," evan cried, suddenly forgetting the fears of which he had made mention to his comrade. "it is not my purpose to prevent you from bearing your full share of danger, and in fact i now propose to place you in a position more perilous than, perhaps, would be your regular stations in the regiment. i simply wish to explain why i called upon you for a certain service, rather than men who may be needed elsewhere." the boys looked in bewilderment at the colonel, trying in vain to understand the meaning of this vague explanation, and after a brief pause he continued: "it has been proposed that we send out a certain number of men to gain all possible information regarding the strength and disposition of the enemy. to such suggestions i have argued that we could ill afford to spare even two soldiers, and yet i know it is necessary we should have such knowledge. therefore have i said to those who are associated with me in the command, that we would hold those who had already proven themselves, and send out such as yet had a name to win. the mission is one of extreme danger, and requires most careful work. if you lads shrink not from the task, i would have you volunteer to set about it, for this is a service to which i would not order any person. go, if you can, of your own free will; but if the undertaking seems too dangerous, no one shall taunt you for having refused." "where are we to go, sir?" evan asked. "as near to major ferguson's encampment as may be necessary in order to learn exactly the number and disposition of his men." "when are we to start?" "as soon as may be. there is no time for delay, since we must push forward steadily, and not allow it to be believed that we shrink from the battle." "then it would be best evan and i did not spend any further time in asking questions," nathan interrupted. "we will be off at once." "and you have no hesitation about the matter, young shelby?" colonel mcdowells asked as he gazed at the boys sharply. "both evan and i are ready to do all that may be in our power, and even though the task was one which we shrank from, both of us have too much pride to allow that fact to become known. however, this doesn't seem as dangerous as when we set out about making our escape from the dillard plantation, and there is no reason why we should falter. my only fear is lest we may not be sufficiently well versed in military matters to bring such information as is required." "keep your eyes and ears open, remembering everything which is seen and heard, and i doubt not but that you can perform the mission as well as the ablest soldier among us. it is necessary you exercise great prudence, however, for should major ferguson detect you in loitering around his encampment, he would be justified in hanging you as spies with but scant ceremony." "have you any further orders, sir?" evan asked nervously, for this reminder of the peril they were about to incur was not pleasing. "none," and the colonel rose to his feet as he held out both hands to the boys. a fervent hand-clasp was the only token of parting, and the lads went directly from this interview to prepare themselves for the journey. captain dillard came up as they were refilling the powder horns, and counting out an additional store of bullets. "so the colonel has sent his son rather than risk the life of one of the men," he said half to himself, and evan looked up with a smile as he replied: "when favors are to be bestowed, captain, it is right the father should remember first his son." "and this is a favor with a vengeance," dillard muttered, after which, realizing he had been imprudent in thus voicing his apprehensions, he whistled a cheery tune as if there was no reason why he or any other in the encampment should be gloomy. in less than ten minutes the boys had made their preparations for the scout, and were debating as to the best course to be pursued. "make straight for cherokee ford, lads, and trust to luck for all the remainder. i do not mean that you are to go blindly ahead without taking due precautions; but it seldom pays at such times to map out an elaborate plan, for much depends upon accident." then the captain turned abruptly away, most likely to avoid a leave-taking, and the two boys marched side by side out of the encampment, the men following them with their eyes but speaking no word, for each understood upon what a perilous venture they were embarked. it was nightfall, and the young scouts were unfamiliar with the country over which it would be necessary to travel. they knew, however, that a well-defined trail led from the cowpens to cherokee ford, and along this they advanced at a smart pace, for it seemed necessary the journey should be performed during the hours of darkness. neither felt inclined for conversation. the silence of the men as they left the encampment struck them much like predictions of evil, and they were weighted down by a sense of danger in the air everywhere around them. at near midnight they made the first halt, and up to that time not more than half a dozen words had been exchanged. now it was as if the nearness of the foe revived their courage rather than depressed them, and they discussed the situation as calmly as they might have spoken of the most ordinary affair. "we must have been five hours on the march, and covered no less than seventeen or eighteen miles," nathan suggested. "surely we are that far from the encampment, and it stands us in hand to have an eye out for redcoats, because they or the tories will likely be scouting nearabout their halting place." "and by going blindly ahead we may come upon them sooner than would be pleasant," nathan added with a laugh. "now it is my proposition that we tarry here until daybreak, rather than run our noses into trouble." "father said we were to perform the mission as quickly as might be." "true; but yet he did not propose that we discover the foe by running into their very midst." "we are yet a good dozen miles from cherokee ford, and by waiting here until daybreak will be forced to spend three or four hours before we can hope to see the main body." "if it is your belief that we should push on yet further, i am ready," nathan replied in a tone of content, and thus it was decided that they should not make camp until having arrived at least six miles nearer the supposed location of the britishers. after fifteen minutes had been spent in resting the lads set forward again, and, as nearly as they could judge, it was two o'clock in the morning when evan announced that he was ready to make a lengthy halt. creeping into the thicket a few yards from the trail where they could remain concealed from view, and yet be enabled to see any who might pass, the boys set about gaining such repose as might be possible. one slept while the other watched, and every half-hour they changed positions, so that by daybreak each had had his share of slumber. when the first grey light of dawn appeared they set out for the final and most perilous stage of the journey, advancing cautiously, halting to listen at every unfamiliar sound, and oftentimes making a detour through the thicket when there was a sharp bend in the trail which might have led them suddenly upon a scouting party of the foe. by such method their progress was exceedingly slow, and by sunrise they had advanced no more than three miles. now if the information brought to the american encampment was correct, they were close upon the britishers, and might at any moment expect to see a scarlet coat through the foliage. "we must take some chances in order to push ahead more rapidly, or we shall not be able to return before to-morrow morning," nathan whispered impatiently, after they had literally crawled through the thicket half an hour more, and the words were hardly uttered when the sounds of footsteps upon the beaten path a short distance in advance of them, caused both to suddenly seek a hiding-place. it is well the lads were on the alert, for within a few seconds four britishers came down the trail in a leisurely fashion, as if out for no other purpose than that of a stroll, and evan gripped nathan's arm hard as he saw in the rear of these men none other than ephraim sowers. the young tory was walking slowly, as if displeased with himself for having ventured away from the camp, while the britishers were in the best of spirits, laughing and chatting merrily without paying any attention to their gloomy-visaged companion. it was when he arrived at a point directly opposite the hidden scouts that ephraim stopped, leaned his musket against a rock, and seated himself upon a fallen tree-trunk, as he said petulantly: "i am tired of this wandering around when we are like to come upon a party of rebels at any minute." "then why do you follow? no person prevents you from returning to the camp," one of the soldiers said with a laugh. "i am minded to go back alone, and you know full well the orders were that no man should stray very far from the mountain." "then you are not disobeying, since i'll go bail there's little of the man about you." "how dare you speak in that way when major ferguson is nearby to overhear the words?" and now ephraim displayed anger. "don't pride yourself, lad, on being the especial pet of the major. he is not given to much affection for cowards, even though they be spies, and i am willing to wager considerable that no member of the command would be reproved for speaking harshly to such as you." during this brief conversation the soldiers had continued to advance, while ephraim remained sitting upon the log, and when the last remark was made the redcoats were hidden from view by the foliage. the young tory kicked idly at the earth in front of him, looked up and down the trail as if in search of something entertaining, and then leaned lazily back against a convenient bush. the footsteps of the soldiers sounded fainter and fainter in the distance, telling that the men were continuing to advance, until finally all was silent. the two lads were within forty feet of the boy who would have done the cause of freedom such grievous wrong, and each instant those who might lend him a helping hand were drawing further away. nathan glanced at evan with a question in his eye, and the latter understood it as well as if he had spoken. "it might be done," he whispered cautiously; "but we should not neglect the work which was set us." "it is not safe to advance while these men are between us and major ferguson's force, therefore unless we make him prisoner it is necessary to remain idle." "what could be done with him?" "i'll venture to say he might be frightened into telling all we would know." nathan hesitated an instant. they had been sent out solely to gain some knowledge of the enemy's force and disposition. to take this boy a prisoner, even though he was their bitterest foe, seemed to be deviating from the course colonel mcdowells had marked out, but yet, as nathan said, they must remain idle there until these four men should return. therefore it would not be such a woeful waste of time. "if we can do it without giving the alarm, i am ready," evan whispered, and instead of replying, nathan began creeping cautiously in the direction of the tory, who sat with his back turned toward them. many a time had these two lads crept quietly upon a flock of wild turkeys without alarming the shy birds, and to go through the same maneuvers when a dull boy like ephraim sowers was the game to be stalked did not prove difficult. side by side they advanced with hardly so much as disturbing a single twig, and had gained the cover of a bush within three feet of him before he so much as changed his position. then he started to his feet, and the two in hiding crouched yet closer to the ground, fearing lest he had grown suspicious; but it was merely to change his position, and after looking up and down the trail, muttering threats against the soldiers because they continued their stroll when it was not to his liking, he reseated himself without having so much as touched his musket. [illustration: nathan and evan crept within three feet of the tory.--page .] it was possible the redcoats might even now be retracing their steps, and whatever the lads counted on doing must be done without loss of time. nathan pressed evan's hand in token that he was ready for the venture, and the latter nodded his head. the two rose to their feet, standing motionless a single instant, and then, darting forward with a sudden spring, they landed directly upon the unsuspecting tory. nathan had counted upon covering the spy's mouth with his hand; but missed the aim, and ephraim was enabled to utter one shrill cry, after which he was powerless to do more than breathe. "work quickly now, for the soldiers may have heard that, and we are like to be prisoners ourselves instead of capturing this sneak," nathan whispered. "we must tie his hands again, and contrive something for a gag quickly." as deftly, and yet more rapidly than on that night when sarah dillard rode the unbroken colt, evan bound the prisoner, and from the time they first leaped upon him until ephraim's hands were tied and his mouth choked by a portion of his own garments, no more than three minutes had passed. "take his musket, for it must appear as if he had gone back to the camp, and see to it that you wipe out all traces of a struggle, while i carry him into the thicket." then the boy lifted ephraim to his shoulder as if he had been no more than a package of bulky merchandise, and while evan carried out the instructions to the best of his ability, the spy was taken an hundred yards or more into the thicket. here nathan halted until his comrade joined him, when the two continued the flight until they were fully half a mile from the trail, and all this while ephraim sowers was unable to give vent to his anger or his fears. "that was a neat job, and one that need not interfere with the purpose of our journey," nathan said in a tone of exultation, as he wiped the perspiration from his face and sat down where he could look full at the discomfited tory. "by this means we have made certain of coming face to face with ephraim sowers again, for i misdoubt if he would have been found in the battle unless peradventure the britishers were getting much the best of it." "now that we have got the sneak, what is to be done with him?" "tie him up here until we have concluded our work, and then carry him back to the men of colonel clarke's command, who have a score to settle because of his efforts to deliver them over to their butchers." the expression in ephraim's eyes gave good token of the terror which was in his heart, and in furtherance of the plan he had lately conceived nathan took the gag from the boy's mouth. "those men would murder me!" ephraim screamed as soon as his mouth was freed from the gag. "ay, so it appears to me, else will they be more forgiving than i can well believe," nathan replied calmly, as if in his mind the spy was already doomed. "would you take me, who has never done you any wrong, to where i shall be killed?" he whined. "how much wrong would you have done had we not set upon you the night the force at greene's spring were to be massacred?" evan asked sternly. "when we were again captured was it in your mind to treat us as friends?" "i would not have killed you." "then you lied in order to frighten us." "i did want to make you weaken, but had no thought of doing you a wrong." "such a controversy is useless, and we have not the time to spend upon it," nathan interrupted. "colonel clarke's men are doubtless eager to meet with this tory who devoted so much of his time to them, and if it so be we are forced to continue on in order to gain information concerning the britishers, we can do no other than deliver him up to them." "what is it you want to know?" ephraim asked, a ray of hope coming into his eyes. "we are sent to learn concerning the british forces. how many there are, where they are encamped, and such other matters as may be necessary for the guidance of those who direct the attack." "is there to be a battle?" ephraim asked eagerly. "not before we have had time to deliver you over to those who will thank us for so doing." the gleam of hope died away very suddenly, and the spy, knowing full well what would likely be his fate, did he fall into the hands of the men who would have been killed or captured had his plans not failed, now gave evidence of the liveliest terror. "if you will save my life, i swear to tell you all i know about major ferguson's forces, and none can give the information better, for i have been with them every hour since you were allowed to leave dillard's plantation." "it might be that we could take advantage of the offer, if it was possible to believe a single word you uttered," nathan said, as if debating whether to accept the proposition or not. "i swear to you that every word shall be true, and if you hold me prisoner it will be easy to know whether i have told the truth or not," ephraim pleaded. "promise that if i give all the information needed you will save my life, and you shall have such a description of the camp as could not be gotten by scouting around it for a week." "shall we accept the offer, evan?" nathan asked, as if it was a matter of indifference to him, and ephraim cried imploringly: "give me one chance! don't turn me over to those who have good reason for murdering me! i will answer every question truly, and you shall keep me prisoner until it has been proven that all i said was correct." chapter ix. king's mountain. having brought ephraim sowers into that frame of mind where he could be utilized, nathan made the pretense of consulting with evan as to the advisability of accepting the spy's information. "if evan will agree to it, we may promise that you shall not be given up to colonel clarke's men, although, as a matter of course, we have no intention of setting you at liberty." "all i ask is that you put me under the charge of colonel charles mcdowells, you promising me in his name that i shall receive the same treatment as any other prisoner." "it is a great deal you are asking, ephraim sowers, after all you have done and tried to do; but it may be that we can arrange it. come this way, evan," and nathan stepped aside a few paces to give the tory an idea that considerable argument would be necessary in order to induce his comrade to enter into the agreement. "can we believe what he says?" evan asked when he and nathan stood at such a distance from the prisoner that their words could not be overheard. "i do not understand how he would dare to tell a lie. when our men advance it will be known if he has given the correct information, and we will make it plain that should he tell us anything which was proven to be incorrect, then our promises are withdrawn." "go on, and arrange the matter as soon as you can, for no one can say when some of the redcoats may come this way on a scout, and if we should chance to fall into the hands of the enemy now, i think that tory sneak would kill us, if the murder could be compassed." the two remained as if in conversation a moment longer, and then returning to the terrified spy, nathan said in a solemn tone: "we have agreed that if you give us all the information in your power concerning major ferguson's force, and you claim to know everything regarding it, we will carry you as prisoner to evan's father, promising in his name that you shall be treated the same as any britisher that might be captured. should, however, it be discovered that you played us false in the slightest detail, it will be the same as if our promise had not been given, and you will be turned over to colonel clarke's men." "i am not likely to tell that which is not true when my life depends upon the truth," ephraim said in a tone which convinced his hearers that, perhaps for the first time in his life, he was resolved to make a correct statement. "well," evan said impatiently after a brief pause. "why don't you begin?" "what shall i tell you?" "how many men has major ferguson?" "i must not be held as to the truth of numbers, for i only know what i heard a commissary sergeant say, which was that there were eleven hundred and twenty all told upon the mountain." "what mountain?" "the force is encamped on the summit of king's mountain, which is about twelve miles north of the cherokee ford." "how far from here?" "i should say less than an hour's march." "have the troops any other weapons than muskets?" "no." "how many are the king's soldiers, and how many tories?" "there are not above two hundred of his majesty's troops." "have you any idea why the major chanced to take that place as an encampment?" "our scouts have brought in the word that the rebels were gathering in large numbers, and the major established his camp where it could not well be attacked." "how long has he been there?" "two days." "do you know if he intends making a move soon?" "i have heard it said in the camp that we were like to stay there a long while--at least until reinforcements can be sent by general cornwallis." "beside the men who came out with you on the trail, how many are scouting around in this neighborhood?" "there are perhaps twenty who set out this morning." "are they soldiers or tories?" "i suppose you would call them tories, but nevertheless they are royalists." "there is a distinction without a difference in those terms, ephraim," nathan said grimly, "but i'll venture to say there are very few who are both tory and spy, with an inclination to bring death upon those who had befriended them." "in taking to major ferguson information as to colonel clarke's force i only did my duty, for i was serving the king, and should look upon all those who offer armed resistance to his laws as enemies." "you were not so strict in your allegiance last winter, when you begged for food." ephraim winced but made no reply, and evan said thoughtfully: "it appears to me we have gotten all the information he has to give, and it stands us in hand to return to camp as soon as may be, if you think we are justified in pinning our faith upon his statements." "i swear that i have told you only the truth," ephraim cried, beginning to fear lest his captors might recede from the position they had taken. "if there are twenty britishers scouting around the mountain i do not believe we can learn any more than he has told us," nathan said half to himself, "and it appears to me as if we had good reason for believing our mission had been fulfilled." "then let us lose no time in retracing our steps, for there yet remains twenty-six or twenty-seven miles to be traversed nightfall." "where are your forces encamped?" ephraim asked. "at the cowpens, on broad river. i heard captain depuyster say, when it was told him that some of the rebels--i mean your friends--were gathered there, that it was twenty-eight miles away." "then you know the exact distance it is necessary for you to walk before sunset," nathan replied. "we shall not be so cruel as to confine your arms, but you must march not more than three paces in advance of us, and remember, ephraim sowers, if you make any movement which has the appearance as if you were trying to give us the slip, we shall fire with intent to kill, and at such short range there can be little doubt as to the accuracy of our aim. are you ready, evan?" "yes, and the sooner we set out the better i shall be pleased." but for the fact that the young tory was dependent upon these two for his life, he would have remonstrated against being forced to make so long and hurried a journey; but under the circumstances he did not dare say a single word which might sound like a complaint. he waited meekly until nathan pointed out the direction to be pursued, and then set off as if eager to arrive at the destination, his captors meanwhile keeping their eyes upon him and being on the alert for any attempt at escape. there is little to tell regarding this long tramp, a portion of which was made through the thicket, and the remainder over the trail, save to say that both the prisoner and his captors were nearly exhausted before it came to an ending. twice only did they halt, and then not more than ten minutes at a time, lest by remaining quiet too long their wearied limbs should become stiffened. evan and nathan had brought with them a scanty supply of food, and this they shared with ephraim; but it was so small in quantity that it served hardly more than to whet their appetites, and when, shortly after sunset, they were arrived at the american encampment, it seemed to all three as if they were literally on the verge of exhaustion. the coming of the boys was hailed with shouts of joy by the men, and when it was learned who they brought with them as prisoner, it appeared much as if the promise ephraim's captors had made would avail him nothing. before they could make their way to colonel mcdowells' quarters the three were surrounded by a throng of hungry men, who insisted that the tory should be hanged offhand for his crime; and but little attention was paid to the entreaties of nathan and evan, who announced again and again that they had pledged their word for his safety. "we have sworn that he shall be put into the custody of colonel charles mcdowells, and trusting in our word he has given us valuable information concerning the enemy," nathan cried at the full strength of his lungs, when the throng became so great that they were forced to come to a halt. "hang the spy! he is one who brought ferguson's troopers down to greene's spring that clarke's men might be massacred. hang him!" ephraim kneeled upon the ground, clinging to the legs of the boys, alternately praying that they would guard him and reminding them of the promises made. "although he merits death we will keep faith with him, and he who lays a hand on the tory must first dispose of us!" evan cried. the men were in no mood to listen to reason, and it is more than likely the boys would have failed in their purpose but that colonel william campbell, hearing the tumult, came quickly up to learn the cause. hurriedly and in the fewest possible words nathan explained the situation of affairs, and ephraim's life was saved for the time being, for the colonel, calling for the virginia force, formed a guard around the prisoner and his captors, holding the mob in check until all were arrived at colonel mcdowells' quarters. here ephraim was delivered to evan's father and colonel james williams, and these two officers decided that the young scouts had acted wisely in returning, for they placed every dependence in the statements made by ephraim, who, as colonel williams said, "had for the first time the truth frightened out of him." the lads were directed to go in search of food, and when, an hour later, they returned to colonel mcdowells' quarters, ephraim was nowhere to be seen. "what have you done with the tory?" evan asked, fearing for the instant lest his father had forgotten that their word was pledged for his safe keeping. "it was best he should not remain in camp, for the men were grown so excited that i doubt if i could have held them in check. your spy has been sent away where we can make certain he will be held in safe custody." then the colonel asked for the details of the journey just ended, and when this had been given, he startled them by saying: "since receiving the information from ephraim sowers, it has been decided that we will set out at once in pursuit of the enemy, lest major ferguson change his plans, and lead us a long chase. we have nine hundred men well mounted, and these will start within an hour, continuing the march until they shall come up with the enemy; meanwhile the footmen, and those whose animals are not in the best of condition, will follow as fast as possible." "do you intend to attack the britishers, intrenched as they are on the mountain?" evan asked in surprise. "ay, lad, we will set upon them wherever they may be found, and whip them too, till there shall be no more left of this force which has come to lay waste the country with fire and sword." "but what of nathan and i?" evan asked anxiously. "are we to be left behind?" "it is time you had some rest, lads, and better you should follow with those who march afoot." "in that case, sir, we might miss the battle," nathan interrupted. "perhaps it were better if you did." "we have thought, sir, evan and i, that because of working hard for the cause, we would be given the first opportunity to show what we might do." "and you are eager to go into the combat?" colonel mcdowells asked of his son. "it would sadden me if i was not allowed to do so, sir, although, as i have confessed to nathan several times, i fear my courage may fail me." "if it does, you will be the first mcdowells who has shown the white feather, and perhaps it is time we should know whether you are of the right strain. you shall ride with the advance forces," colonel mcdowells said decidedly, and then turned away. chapter x. a hot chase. the two lads were well content with the assurance given by colonel mcdowells, even though each would have been forced to admit, in event of close questioning, that, while eager to bear a full share of all the dangers, the prospect of taking part in a pitched battle brought with it a certain degree of nervous apprehension. it was known because of what ephraim sowers had told, and could have been well understood even though the tory lad had not chosen to purchase safety by revealing the secrets of those whom he claimed as friends, that major ferguson's force was intrenched after such fashion as was possible, and, in addition, the position was rendered yet stronger by being on the mountain, up which the "rebels" must climb in order to make an attack. another advantage which the britishers had, was in point of weapons and ammunition. they were thoroughly well equipped with the best quality of arms, with powder and ball in abundance, while the friends of liberty had but a scanty supply of either. despite such facts, however, not a man among those who had sworn to relieve the colonies from the yoke of the oppressor counted the odds. the only thought was that at last the britishers were where a battle could not be avoided, and the mountain men were determined that the conflict should result in a victory for the "rebels." the troop did not begin the march as soon as colonel mcdowells had proposed, however. although the colonists were few in numbers and with scanty outfit, there was much to be done by way of preparation for the unequal struggle, and when an hour had elapsed they were yet in camp, but nearly ready to set out. during such time nathan and evan had nothing to do save watch the movements of those around them, without being able to take any part in the work, and although both were in need of repose, it was impossible to rest at a time when they were laboring under the mental excitement caused by the knowledge of what was before them. now and then one or another of the men would question the lads regarding their reconnoissance of major ferguson's camp, when ephraim sowers was captured, and in the course of such conversations the two boys soon learned where their prisoner had been taken. one of the squad which had been charged with conveying the young tory beyond reach of those who would have hanged him without loss of time, returned to camp in order to accompany his comrades on the march which it was believed would be ended by a battle, and displayed no little curiosity as to how ephraim had been captured. "to hear the young villain talk, one would think a dozen men couldn't overpower him. he declared that his reluctance to shed the blood of former playmates saved you lads from death." "it would seem that he has recovered somewhat from his fears," nathan replied with a hearty laugh. "when i last saw him he was playing the part of coward to perfection." "he insists that you took advantage of his former friendship, and while calling for assistance, basely fell upon him when he was giving the aid you begged for." to nathan there was something extremely comical in such a story as told by ephraim sowers, who never displayed the slightest semblance of courage save when there was no possible chance he could come to any harm. evan's anger was aroused, however, and without delay he not only explained how they had captured the tory, but gave additional details concerning the incident at captain dillard's house, when ephraim suddenly found the tables turned upon him. "he could not have attempted to do a more deadly wrong than when he gave information which he fully believed would result in the death or capture of colonel clark's force at greene's springs," evan said in conclusion, "and while nathan and i have given our word that he shall be held safe from personal harm, i hope careful watch will be kept upon him. insignificant though the lad is, he may be able to do us very much injury." "joseph abbott has been detailed to guard him," the trooper said thoughtfully, "and perhaps a more steady man should have been assigned to the work. abbott means well; but is inclined to be careless, although it's certain he understands how necessary it is the tory be held safely this night." "yes, and for many a long day to come," nathan added gravely. "until the britishers have been driven from the carolinas, ephraim must be held close prisoner, because it is in his power to give them all needful information as to our probable movements. there can be no question but that his father aids in the work, and while it is not generally understood that such is the case, much harm can be done." the trooper felt confident that abbott could be relied upon for twenty-four hours at least, because he would remain at his own home, and surely there he should be able to make certain the prisoner did not escape. then the conversation turned upon the probable battle, and this was of such vital interest to the boys that, for the moment, they almost forgot such a lad as ephraim sowers ever had an existence. it was fated, however, that they were to drop him from their thoughts for some time to come, and soon there was more reason than ever before to fear his power of working mischief. word had been passed for the horses to be saddled preparatory to beginning the march toward king's mountain, and nathan and evan were attending to the steeds which had been provided for them, when a sudden commotion on the outskirts of the encampment caused every member of the troop to look about him in alarm. the sound of voices in loud, angry conversation could be heard; but it was not possible for the lads to distinguish any words save these: "he should have been hanged! it was little less than a crime to allow him to live!" "of whom are they speaking?" evan asked in surprise. "it can be none other than ephraim, and yet i had supposed he would be forgotten, until after the battle." "the men must have learned more of his doings, for certain it is that no one has given him a thought during the last half-hour." a moment later it became evident that whatever had caused this last outburst against the tory spy was of considerable importance, for the cries of anger were redoubled as a full third of the little army ceased their work of preparation to gather around the officers' quarters. "something has gone wrong!" nathan exclaimed as the confusion increased. "when the command has been given for us to saddle, the men would not spend valuable time crying out against such as ephraim sowers. can it be possible he has escaped?" "that is an idle proposition, for joseph abbott could not have been so careless," evan replied; but there was a sudden tremor of his voice which told that he was not as confident as the words implied. the boys no longer gave any heed to their steed; but pressed on toward the throng which was surging around the officers' quarters, until it was possible to hear yet more of that which the excited men said. "abbott was the last man in the carolinas who should have been trusted with such a duty!" "if we had hanged the villain it would not now be possible for him to do us so much mischief!" "now that the britishers are certain to be warned of our movements, there is little hope of taking them by surprise!" these and similar remarks gave the eager, perturbed boys a fair idea of what had occurred; but yet nathan would not credit that which appeared to be a fact until having more definite assurance that the young tory was in a condition to work wrong to the patriots of the carolinas. "what has happened?" he asked of a man who was insisting that the officers were guilty of a great crime when they prevented the men from hanging the prisoner. "happened?" the man repeated angrily. "that young tory whose neck should have been stretched an hour ago, has given joseph abbott the slip, an' is most likely on his way to king's mountain in order to inform major ferguson of what we would have done this night!" "ephraim escaped?" evan repeated in dismay, and immediately there came to him the knowledge of all it might be possible for the tories to effect. it was certain that once major ferguson had been warned of the proposed attack, it would be so guarded against that a heavy loss of life on the part of the americans must inevitably be the result, and prudence would dictate that the movement be abandoned. insignificant though ephraim sowers was, he now had it in his power to save the king's troops from severe loss, and could, most likely, thwart the patriots at the very moment when they might strike such a blow as would free the carolinas from the invaders. the escape of the tory was the most disastrous happening that could have been brought about by the enemies of the colonies, and the knowledge that it was possible only by sheer carelessness on the part of a true friend to the cause, served to aggravate the offense which had been committed. here and there a man swore to hang joseph abbott if he dared to show himself in this section of the country again, and the more hot-headed demanded that colonel campbell and colonel mcdowells should suffer in some way because of having interposed to save the prisoner's life when there were troopers standing by ready to execute him. during ten minutes or more the tumult was great; all discipline had been lost sight of, and there seemed every danger much mischief would be done by those justly angry men who believed themselves thus prevented from breaking the rule of the king in the carolinas at the very moment when it might have been successfully accomplished. during this time nathan and evan had been forcing their way toward that point where colonel mcdowells and colonel campbell were facing the angry soldiers, believing for the moment that an attack was about to be made upon them, and then it was evan's father spoke for the first time since the lads had come within earshot. "i am ashamed that men of the carolinas will thus cry out for the death of a boy, how ever much injury he may have done, or can yet do us. we war against the representatives of the king, not with children." "it was he who would have compassed our death!" one of colonel clark's men shouted vindictively. "very true, and it is right that he be deprived of his liberty; but more than that would have been a stain upon your honor such as could never be rubbed out." "if he had been held prisoner we should have remained silent," another soldier cried. "now he is turned lose to carry major ferguson such information as will put to naught all our efforts." "is abbott here to say how the lad escaped?" colonel campbell asked. "his wife came with the news that her husband has gone on the trail of the viper." "then who shall say that such mischief has been done?" colonel mcdowells cried, his voice taking on a more hopeful ring. "to hear such bewailing as you men are indulging in, one would say there is no remedy left us. it is probably true the tory has escaped; but he cannot have very much of a start, since no more than three hours are passed since he was led from this camp. there are twenty-eight miles between us and king's mountain. we are ready to set out at once. will you admit that such horses as are owned by you may not cover that distance before a boy can do so on foot? shame upon you for thus showing the white feather when there is a possibility of repairing the mischief!" some of the throng stepped back a few paces as if regretting that they had been so loud spoken; but the greater number remained in front of the two officers in a defiant and angry attitude. "where is evan mcdowells?" the colonel cried, raising his voice that the question might be heard throughout the encampment, and he had no sooner spoken than evan and nathan forced their way through the crowd until standing directly before the officer, who added to the insubordinate men, "my son and nathan shelby--the same lads who captured the tory--shall go out in search of him. half a dozen more will be sent in as many different directions, and instead of standing here indulging in vain words, we may repair the mischief. this, however, i demand, and will consider him my personal enemy who disobeys what is a positive command: when the spy is retaken, see to it, each and every one, that his life be held sacred! these boys gave him an assurance, in return for certain information, that he should not come to harm, and i will never allow such pledge to be broken." "we shall only be safe when he is dead!" a trooper cried in a surly tone. "and you are willing, angus mcleod, to admit that you are afraid of a boy!" "ay, colonel mcdowells, of such a boy as is that young tory. while he lives we know full well all our doings will be carried to the king's officers." "how may that be now that we have come to know him for what he is? a month ago it was different, because you allowed him in and around your encampment; but to-day, with full knowledge of his character, how can he do you harm? when he is taken, as i feel certain he must be within a short time, turn him over to me; i will be personally responsible that he no longer has the power to work us an injury." then turning from the discontented men as if he had done with them, the colonel said to evan and nathan: "lads, now has come the time when you may perform such a service for the carolinas as, perhaps, is not within the power of any other. i do not hold that you are more skillful or keen on the trail than your companions; but there is in my mind the belief that you will succeed where older searchers may fail. set out immediately; spare not your horses, nor yourselves, until ephraim sowers is once more your prisoner." "but in event of our being so fortunate as to come upon him, sir, we shall be deprived of taking part in the battle," evan said mournfully, and his father replied quickly, but in a whisper: "there will be no battle if he escapes to carry information to major ferguson." "there will be in case we shall make him prisoner within a few hours." "in that event you may leave him with abbott, whom, i dare venture to say, will not give way to carelessness again, or in the custody of any whom you know to be true. we shall ride the direct trail to king's mountain, and you should be able to overtake us if the work be performed quickly." there was no thought in the mind of either lad that such an order as the colonel had given could be slighted, and while it would have grieved them to the heart had an engagement come off while they were absent from the troop, neither hesitated. as they turned to leave, colonel campbell gave orders to several of the men that they ride at once in pursuit of the late prisoner, and nathan whispered to his comrade while they walked as quickly as the throng would permit toward where their horses had been left: "i am not positive, evan, how we might carry ourselves in the midst of a battle. while neither of us would admit to being cowardly, it is possible we showed a certain amount of fear when brought face to face with the king's troops. now we have one more opportunity of proving ourselves equal to the part of men, without chance of displaying the white feather." "i fail to understand the meaning of so many words," evan replied petulantly. "to me the only thing certain is, that we may not follow where much honor is to be won." "if it should so chance that we come upon ephraim sowers, when others failed of finding him, we will gain more credit than if we rode in the front ranks of those whom i hope will charge major ferguson's force before to-morrow night. let us give over repining at what cannot be changed, and set ourselves about the task of running that miserable tory down!" evan was not disposed to look at the matter in such a light, although never for a moment did he dream of disobeying his father's commands. to him this setting off on a blind search for the young spy was simply shutting themselves out from all chance of riding with the men of the carolinas when they charged the enemy, and it seemed for the moment as if no greater misfortune could befall them. however, he made no protest against whatever his comrade suggested, although confident that with a start in his favor of even one hour, it would be impossible for them to overtake ephraim sowers, more particularly since half a dozen men were to join in the hunt, and without loss of time the two lads made ready for the search. there was no thought of making provisions for any lengthy absence; the work, to be of any avail, must be done before midnight, and if at that time the tory was yet at liberty, then might the searchers return to their comrades, for it would be good proof ephraim had succeeded in eluding them so far as to be able to give major ferguson information of what was afoot. therefore the only care was to make certain their supply of ammunition would be sufficient for a spirited attack or resistance, after which they rode through the encampment, and half a mile beyond were halted by mrs. abbott, who was returning slowly to her home. "are you young gentlemen setting out in search of the tory?" she asked when the two lads halted in response to her signal. "we are, and many others will ride on the same errand." "the soldiers were so angry with joseph that i had no opportunity to repeat all the message he sent. it was not through the fault of my husband that the prisoner escaped; he was left bound by the hands as when brought to our house, while we made ready a room in which he could be safely kept, and by some means managed to free himself." "we have no time for such unimportant particulars," nathan interrupted. "the main fact is that he is free, and we are among those charged with the search for him." "joseph set out on the same errand within five minutes after his escape was discovered, and he bade me say to whosoever might come, that the trail led over the hills to the westward. you will have no difficulty in following it, and should come up with my husband before riding very far." "we thank you for the information, and would ride ahead if you are able to direct us to your home," nathan replied. mrs. abbott, who appeared to be in deepest distress because the prisoner intrusted to her husband's keeping had made his escape, gave the boys ample directions for finding the house and as the two rode rapidly forward nathan said in a hopeful tone: "there is yet a chance, evan, that we shall succeed where the others failed, thanks to our having met abbott's wife. if the trail is well-defined, we shall be able to ride it down, capture the spy, and return to the encampment before our people have set out. "that is what we should do, but whether we can or not is quite another matter," evan replied gloomily. "it is a pity we promised the tory our protection, otherwise he would have been beyond all power for harm long ere this." "and would you like to remember that we captured a lad who was once our friend, for others to hang in cold blood?" "almost anything would be better than that we were shut out from following those with whom we should ride this night." "i am counting that we will yet bear them company," nathan replied cheerily. "even a tory cannot make his way across the country without leaving a trail, and now that we know where it may be taken up, the rest ought to be easy." "unless he has suddenly lost his senses, we cannot follow him on horseback. if i was trying to escape from mounted men, it would not be difficult to strike such a course as should be impossible for them to follow." "that he did not do so at the start is positive, else abbott would never have sent such word by his wife," nathan replied, heeding not the petulance of his comrade. "if we hold to it that ephraim sowers has made his escape, then is he the same as free, but i shall continue to claim we have fair chance of overtaking him, until we know beyond a peradventure that he cannot be found. every second is of value to us now, and we'll waste no more time in idle talk." with this remark, which evan might well have construed as a rebuke, nathan struck his horse sharply with the spurs, and the two quickly left mrs. abbott far in the rear. chapter xi. success. in silence the two lads rode on at the full speed of their horses until they were come to the home of the man who had caused so much trouble through his carelessness, and here nathan dismounted, leading his steed by the bridle as he made a complete circuit of the building. to boys who had been taught the art of woodcraft because it was absolutely necessary they should be expert in following a trail or hiding one, it was a simple matter to ascertain where the tory had made his escape from the house, and at what point he struck into the woods, although a person ignorant of such matters might have looked in vain for any token of the flight. "there's no need of spending much time over such a plain sign as that," evan said, now recovered somewhat from his petulance, for hope that they might soon recapture the spy had sprung up in his heart. "i never would have believed ephraim sowers was such a simple as to thus give information regarding his movements! surely he knew abbott would set out at once in pursuit, and yet has made no attempt to hide his trail." "he is a coward who allows his fears to blind him from anything except immediate danger. having seen an unexpected opportunity to escape, he takes advantage of it, and thinks only of putting a great distance between himself and his enemies. we shall soon ride him down!" "unless he gathers his wits, and takes to the thicket where we cannot follow." "then it will be necessary to make our way on foot, and i'll warrant that we travel as fast as he can. but i'm not allowing he'll gather his wits until having come to a british camp." during this brief conversation nathan remounted, and the two rode along the trail, having no difficulty in keeping well in view the signs left by both the pursued and the pursuer. abbot had taken good care not to cover the footsteps of the tory, and to leave ample token of the course he was following; therefore it was certain the lads must soon come upon one or the other, since they were well mounted. there was one danger evan had failed to realize, but which was strong in nathan's mind. if ephraim could retain his liberty until night came, then would it be well-nigh impossible to follow him during the hours of darkness; and this very important fact may have been in the spy's mind when he pushed on regardless of thus giving good proof as to his whereabouts to those who might come in pursuit. therefore it was nathan rode on at the best speed of his horse, and his comrade found it difficult to maintain the pace, consequently there was no opportunity for conversation during twenty minutes or more, at the end of which time they were come up with abbott. that the trooper was suffering keenest mental distress because of his carelessness, which had permitted of the spy's escape, could readily be seen even during the hurried interview they held with the man. "you are come in good time, for the tory can't be more than a mile ahead of us," he said with a sigh of relief. "the sun will not set for two hours, and long before then you should have him in your keeping once more." "you will follow as close as may be, for we count on turning him over to you again in order that we may ride to king's mountain with the american force," nathan replied, not averse to giving his horse a brief breathing spell. "you may be certain he won't get out of my sight again! any other might have had the same misfortune as i. his hands were bound, and i left him in an upper room while i made ready the chamber that was to serve as prison." "why did you not keep him with you?" evan asked sharply. "that is what should have been done, as i now know full well; but at the time it seemed as if the lad was as secure as if surrounded by a troop of soldiers. certain it is he can't free his hands, and, therefore, must necessarily travel slowly. i suppose every man at the camp bears down heavily upon me?" nathan would have evaded this question; but evan was minded that the careless soldier should be made to realize how great was his offence, therefore he answered bluntly: "i believe of a verity you would have been hanged had it been possible for the men to get hold of you when the news of the escape was first brought in. if ephraim sowers succeeds in remaining at liberty, the attack upon king's mountain will be abandoned, and that at a time when it might have been a success but for your carelessness." "see here, abbott," nathan added soothingly, "it is not for me to deny the truth of what evan says; but he is describing that first moment of disappointment. your comrades have grown more calm by this time, and if it so be we overhaul the tory, it is colonel mcdowell's orders that he be given into your custody again." "i'll shoot the villain rather than let him get a dozen yards from me, if he falls into my clutches once more, an' i've sworn not to go home inside of forty-eight hours without him." it was in evan's mind to say that it would have been better had abbott kept a close watch of his prisoner, in which case such desperate measures would not now be necessary; but he realized in time to check his speech, that harsh words were of no avail now the mischief was done, and contented himself with the caution: "it will be well to remember how much trouble has been caused, if we are so fortunate as to catch the tory. my fear is that he may succeed in giving us the slip after all, in which case the attack on major ferguson's force is frustrated even before being made." the horses had been allowed as long a resting spell as nathan thought necessary, and he brought the interview to an end by saying as he tightened rein: "we shall ride the trail at our best pace, and do you follow on until finding that we are forced to leave the steeds, when it will be known that there is no longer a hope of taking him in time to set the fears of our people at rest before the hour for making an advance. in event of our coming upon him, we shall be glad to turn him over to your keeping once more, as soon as may be possible." "i'll keep mighty near your horses' heels, unless you ride at a better gait than i believe will be possible. don't hesitate to shoot him down if you get within range and find there's a chance of his getting the best of the chase." "there's no need to give us such advice," evan replied grimly. "do your part at holding him, if it so be you have another chance." nathan had urged his steed forward, and the two spurred on at a sharp trot, each rider's eyes fastened upon the ground where could be plainly seen, by those accustomed to such work, the footprints of the tory. evan was rapidly recovering from the fit of petulance which had seized upon when it appeared most likely they would be shut out from riding into battle with the american force. now it began to seem possible they might perform the task set them and return to the encampment before the advance was begun, unless it so chanced that ephraim sowers suddenly showed sufficient wit to seek refuge in a thicket where the horses could not follow. something of this kind evan said to his comrade as they rode on the trail nearly side by side, and the latter replied cheerily: "the miserable tory don't dare do anything of the kind lest he lose his way. i venture to say his only thought is that abbott will set out in pursuit of him, rather than spend time by going to the encampment, therefore he has only to fear what one man afoot may be able to do. it hasn't come into his thick head that the woman could be sent with a message, while her husband took to the trail, therefore he will hold to the open path until hearing the hoof-beats of our horses." and this was indeed what ephraim sowers did, as his pursuers soon learned. nathan and evan rode swiftly and in silence during twenty minutes or more after leaving abbott, understanding full well that the trail was growing fresher each instant; and then the former saw a certain suspicious movement of branches at one side of the path some distance away. "he has seen us!" the lad cried excitedly, spurring his horse forward until he came to that point where the trail suddenly branched off toward the thicket. there could be no question but that the tory had failed of hearing the noise of the pursuit until his enemies were close upon him, and then he did what he should have done an hour before. there was not a second to be lost, for once the lad was so far in advance that his movements could not be followed by the motion of the foliage, it would be like the proverbial hunt for a needle in a haystack to find him. "look after the horses!" nathan cried, reining in his steed and leaping to the ground musket in hand, and even before evan could come up, although but a few paces in the rear, isaac shelby's nephew had disappeared in the thicket. young mcdowells was not disposed to obey this command strictly. he cared for the steeds by hurriedly tying their bridles to the trunk of a tree, and after a delay of no more than half a minute, followed his comrade into the forest, with musket in hand ready to be discharged at the first glimpse of the fugitive. so close behind nathan was evan, that he could readily follow his movements by the commotion among the underbrush, and, with a sudden burst of speed, regardless of possible accident, he succeeded in coming close to his comrade's heels. "have you lost sight of him?" he asked breathlessly. "not a bit of it!" was the cheery reply. "there is little fear he can give us the slip now we are so near!" "why don't you fire on the chance of winging him? i can give you my loaded musket when yours is empty." "there's no need of wasting a cartridge upon him; we shall soon bring the villain in sight." it was not possible to carry on any extended conversation while running at full speed among the foliage, at great risk of falling headlong over a projecting root, or being stricken down by a low-hanging limb. they were gaining in the chase as could readily be seen, and when perhaps ten minutes had passed the lads were so near that it seemed certain ephraim could be no more than a dozen yards in advance. "no one can say what accident may happen at any moment to give him an advantage!" evan said sharply, speaking with difficulty because of his heavy breathing. "you must bring him down soon, or we may get back to the encampment too late!" no suggestion could have been made which would have had greater weight than this; and, raising his voice, at the same time priming the musket as he ran, nathan cried: "come to a halt, ephraim sowers, or i shall fire! at this short range there is little danger but that my bullet will strike its target, with such good token of your whereabouts as you are giving us." the tory made no reply; and the waving of the bushes could still be seen, thus showing that he had not obeyed the command. "do not delay, but shoot at once, and then exchange muskets with me!" evan cried in an agony of apprehension, lest some unforeseen chance give the fugitive such an advantage as they could not overcome. nathan hesitated no longer. raising the weapon he fired in a line with the moving foliage, and the report of the musket was followed by a scream as of pain. "i'm sorry i didn't wait a few minutes longer!" the lad cried, in a tone of deepest regret. "of course we were bound to stop him; but it might have been done without killing!" evan shared his comrade's regrets, believing ephraim had been seriously if not dangerously wounded, and the two ran forward with all speed, fully expecting to find their enemy disabled or dead. therefore was their surprise all the greater when the swaying of the branches told that the tory was yet able to keep his feet, and once more nathan shouted, this time in a tone of anger: "halt, or i shall fire again! give me your musket, evan, and do you load this one! work quickly, for i'm not minded to linger over the task of stopping him!" the exchange of weapons was made without delay, and once more nathan fired. again came a scream as of pain from the fugitive; but this time the pursuers were not troubled in mind lest they had needlessly inflicted pain. nathan leaped forward as he discharged the musket, and an instant later stood face to face with ephraim sowers, who, with a rotten branch upraised as a club, stood at bay where a perfect network of trees, that had most likely been overturned by the wind, barred his further passage. "i'll beat your brains out!" ephraim screamed viciously, brandishing his poor apology for a weapon. "don't make the mistake of thinkin' i'll be carried back among them rebels!" "you had better give in peaceably, for we shan't spend much time in arguing the matter," nathan said decidedly; but yet he did not advance for the very good reason that he was virtually unarmed, having dropped his musket at the moment of emptying it, in order that he might not be impeded in his movements. because he remained motionless, ephraim believed the lad was afraid, and pressed his supposed advantage by crying, in a tone that was very like the snarl of a cat: "keep your distance or i'll kill you! this club will stand me as good a turn as the empty muskets do you, an' i count on using it!" by this time evan came into view carrying both weapons, and, seeing that the game was brought to bay without opportunity of continuing the flight, said quietly: "keep your eye on him, nathan, and i'll soon put in a charge that will bring him to terms." he had begun to load the musket as he spoke, doing so with deliberation as if there was no good reason why he should make haste; and such leisurely movements had even more effect upon the tory than did the show of ammunition. "i didn't count you had more than a single charge," he said, with a whine. "it seemed odd to me that you should suddenly have plucked up so much courage," nathan replied scornfully. "even though our ammunition had been exhausted, you could not have held us back with that rotten club. load carefully, evan, for i don't want to make any mistake as to aim!" "are you countin' on killin' me?" ephraim cried, in an agony of terror, flinging down his poor weapon and holding out both hands in supplication. "would you murder a fellow who never did you any harm?" "you are the veriest coward in the carolinas;" and nathan spoke in a tone of such contempt that even the thick-skinned tory winced. "come out here, and we'll make certain of taking you back to broad river!" the tory meekly obeyed, making no show of protest lest he might bring down the anger of his captors upon himself; and evan said, as he finished loading both weapons: "do you walk ahead, nathan, and let him follow. i'll come close at his heels, and we'll spend no more time over this job than may be necessary. abbott should be near at hand by the time we get back to the trail." ephraim obeyed in silence and, because he neither begged nor whined, the boys feared lest he had some plan of escape in his mind. "do not take your eyes from him for a single instant," nathan cried warningly as he led the way in the manner suggested by evan, "and shoot at the first suspicious move he makes. we have done this work in short order, and now it will be because of our own carelessness if the troop sets off without us." "don't think that i'm going to be so foolish as to make another try at gettin' away," ephraim said sulkily. "there's no show for me in this section of the country while the king's troops are so far away, an' i ain't countin' on takin' the chances of bein' shot." "we shan't be so foolish as to take your word for it," evan replied. "i'll admit that you won't make much of a fist toward escaping; but time is precious with us just now, and we can't afford to waste any in chasing you." from that moment until they were come to the trail where the horses had been left, no word was spoken; and then the lads were greeted by a cry of joy and triumph from abbott, who had just come into view. "i knew you'd overhaul him!" the trooper said exultantly; "and if he gives me the slip again there'll be good reason for my bein' hanged!" "do you think it will be safe for us to leave him here with you?" nathan asked, as if undecided what course he ought to pursue. "i'll answer for him with my life! don't think there is any chance of slipping up on the work again, after all that's been in my mind since he got away." after a brief consultation the two lads concluded it would be safe to leave the prisoner with abbott, particularly since colonel mcdowells had so instructed them; and in less than two hours from the time of leaving the encampment, they were riding back at full speed, hoping it might be possible to arrive before the force had started on the march toward king's mountain. and in this they were successful. the soldiers were on the point of setting out when the lads arrived, and the reception with which they were met can well be imagined. as soon as their story could be told, and it was generally understood there was no longer any reason to fear that ephraim sowers might carry information of their movements to major ferguson, the command was in motion, with nathan and evan riding either side of colonel mcdowells. * * * * * in the report of the battle, which is signed by colonel benjamin cleaveland, colonel isaac shelby, and colonel william campbell, is the following account: "we began our march with nine hundred of the best men about eight o'clock the same evening, and, marching all night, came up with the enemy about three o'clock p.m. of the seventh, who lay encamped on the top of king's mountain, twelve miles north of the cherokee ford, in the confidence that they could not be forced from so advantageous a post. previous to the attack, on our march, the following disposition was made: colonel shelby's regiment formed a column in the center, on the left; colonel campbell's regiment another on the right, with part of colonel cleaveland's regiment, headed in front by major joseph winston; and colonel sevier's formed a large column on the right wing. the other part of colonel cleaveland's regiment, headed by colonel cleaveland himself, and colonel williams' regiment, composed the left wing. in this order we advanced, and got within a quarter of a mile of the enemy before we were discovered." evan and nathan rode by the side of the latter's uncle, and as colonel shelby's and colonel cleaveland's regiments began the attack, they were the first in action. "i am growing timorous," evan whispered to nathan as the troops began the ascent of the hill, and the latter replied: "a fellow who spends twenty-four hours in walking, and twenty-four hours in riding, without repose, can well be forgiven for losing some portion of his courage. my own knees are not oversteady, and i am beginning to wonder whether they will bear me out when we are within range of british lead." five minutes later major ferguson's force opened fire, and colonel isaac shelby had no cause to complain of the lads' behavior. as evan afterward admitted, he was hardly conscious of what he did from the moment he saw the first man fall. one of the troopers reported to colonel mcdowells, who asked concerning his son after the engagement was at an end: "the two boys fought side by side, and like veteran soldiers. i saw them making their way up the hill when the shot was flying around them like hail, and it was as if neither realized the peril, or, realizing it, as if he heeded not the possibility that death might come at any instant. never faltering, they continued the ascent, pressing close on isaac shelby's heels until they were the foremost, fighting hand to hand with the britishers. "they were within a dozen feet of colonel williams when he received his death wound, and then the redcoats were pressing us so hotly that no man dared step aside to aid the officer. yet these two went out of their course to give him succor, and, finding that he was already unconscious, pressed forward once more. i was just behind them when we arrived at the spot where major ferguson lay dead." "evan feared his courage might fail him when in the heat of action," the colonel said half to himself, and the trooper replied with emphasis: "it must have increased rather than failed, colonel, for those two lads shamed many a man of us during the hour and five minutes which we spent grappling with the britishers. twice were we forced to fall back; but they remained in the front line, and each time when we rallied they were first to take the forward step. not until colonel depuyster hoisted the white flag did i see them cease their efforts, and then, the excitement being gone, it was as if both of them collapsed, and little wonder, colonel, for if you will stop to think, these lads spent forty-eight hours riding and walking before going into as hot an engagement as we in the carolinas have ever experienced." the battle of king's mountain came to an end as the trooper had said, in one hour and five minutes after it began, and when the american forces were drawn up in line it was found that of the nine hundred, only twenty were killed; but more than five times that number had been wounded. of the king's soldiers, four officers and fifteen privates were killed, and thirty-five privates seriously wounded. eighteen officers and fifteen privates were taken prisoners. of the tories, five officers and two hundred and one men were killed; one officer and one hundred and twenty-seven men wounded, while forty-eight officers and six hundred men were taken prisoners. according to the official report of that engagement, only twenty of major ferguson's force escaped, and among that number, one--ephraim sowers--could be accounted for as already a prisoner in the hands of the americans. the historian, lossing, writes regarding this engagement: "no battle during the war was more obstinately contested than this; for the americans were greatly exasperated by the cruelty of the tories, and to the latter it was a question of life or death. it was with difficulty that the americans, remembering tarleton's cruelty at buford's defeat, could be restrained from slaughter, even after quarter was asked. "on the morning after the battle a court-martial was held, and several of the tory prisoners were found guilty of murder and other high crimes and hanged. colonel cleaveland had previously declared that if certain persons, who were the chief marauders, and who had forfeited their lives, should fall into his hands, he would hang them. ten of these men were suspended upon a tulip tree, which is yet standing--a venerable giant of the forest. this was the closing scene of the battle on king's mountain, an event which completely crushed the spirits of the loyalists, and weakened, beyond recovery, the royal power in the carolinas. intelligence of the defeat of ferguson destroyed all cornwallis' hopes of tory aid. he instantly left charlotte, retrograded, and established his camp at winnsborough, in fairfield district, between the wateree and broad rivers." it was because of sarah dillard's ride that the battle of king's mountain became possible, and consequently it was through her indirectly that the royal power in the carolinas was "weakened beyond recovery." in telling the story of her brave act, it has been necessary to introduce the two lads who bore so honorable a part in that brief campaign, and also the tory spy, but it is not possible within the limits of this tale to follow the adventures of the two young americans who, before the independence of the united states was gained, made for themselves most enviable records among most gallant men. at some time in the future, when the reader shall be ready to go into the more important engagements with evan and nathan, a further account of their deeds will be set down, and then can be described all which ephraim sowers finally did to clear his name of the taint which had been put upon it by his own deeds. it suffices now to say that the spy was held as prisoner by colonel mcdowells for two months or more, when, agreeably to his sworn promise that he would never do aught against the cause of freedom, he was released with the understanding that he should leave the carolinas forever. within one week after the battle of king's mountain nathan and evan were regularly enrolled among the soldiers under colonel charles mcdowells' command, and when general cornwallis surrendered were among the troops who had contributed to that officer's discomfiture. it was on the day set for the formal surrender at yorktown when the two lads were standing side by side in the ranks, that evan whispered to his comrade: "who ever dreamed on that night when ephraim sowers lorded it over us at captain dillard's home that we should stand here waiting to see the proudest general among all the britishers give up his sword to the 'rebel' commander?" "do you know that this victory was really begun when sarah dillard rode over the mountain trail to greene's spring, for from that moment all general cornwallis' power in the south began to wane." the end. a. l. burt's catalogue of books for young people by popular writers, - duane street, new york books for boys. =joe's luck=: a boy's adventures in california. by horatio alger, jr. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . the story is chock full of stirring incidents, while the amusing situations are furnished by joshua bickford, from pumpkin hollow, and the fellow who modestly styles himself the "rip-tail roarer, from pike co., missouri." mr. alger never writes a poor book, and "joe's luck" is certainly one of his best. =tom the bootblack=; or, the road to success. by horatio alger, jr. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . a bright, enterprising lad was tom the bootblack. he was not at all ashamed of his humble calling, though always on the lookout to better himself. the lad started for cincinnati to look up his heritage. mr. grey, the uncle, did not hesitate to employ a ruffian to kill the lad. the plan failed, and gilbert grey, once tom the bootblack, came into a comfortable fortune. this is one of mr. alger's best stories. =dan the newsboy.= by horatio alger, jr. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . dan mordaunt and his mother live in a poor tenement, and the lad is pluckily trying to make ends meet by selling papers in the streets of new york. a little heiress of six years is confided to the care of the mordaunts. the child is kidnapped and dan tracks the child to the house where she is hidden, and rescues her. the wealthy aunt of the little heiress is so delighted with dan's courage and many good qualities that she adopts him as her heir. =tony the hero=: a brave boy's adventure with a tramp. by horatio alger, jr. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . tony, a sturdy bright-eyed boy of fourteen, is under the control of rudolph rugg, a thorough rascal. after much abuse tony runs away and gets a job as stable boy in a country hotel. tony is heir to a large estate. rudolph for a consideration hunts up tony and throws him down a deep well. of course tony escapes from the fate provided for him, and by a brave act, a rich friend secures his rights and tony is prosperous. a very entertaining book. =the errand boy=; or, how phil brent won success. by horatio alger, jr. mo, cloth illustrated, price $ . . the career of "the errand boy" embraces the city adventures of a smart country lad. philip was brought up by a kind-hearted innkeeper named brent. the death of mrs. brent paved the way for the hero's subsequent troubles. a retired merchant in new york secures him the situation of errand boy, and thereafter stands as his friend. =tom temple's career.= by horatio alger, jr. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . tom temple is a bright, self-reliant lad. he leaves plympton village to seek work in new york, whence he undertakes an important mission to california. some of his adventures in the far west are so startling that the reader will scarcely close the book until the last page shall have been reached. the tale is written in mr. alger's most fascinating style. =frank fowler, the cash boy.= by horatio alger, jr. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . frank fowler, a poor boy, bravely determines to make a living for himself and his foster-sister grace. going to new york he obtains a situation as cash boy in a dry goods store. he renders a service to a wealthy old gentleman who takes a fancy to the lad, and thereafter helps the lad to gain success and fortune. =tom thatcher's fortune.= by horatio alger, jr. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . tom thatcher is a brave, ambitious, unselfish boy. he supports his mother and sister on meagre wages earned as a shoe-pegger in john simpson's factory. tom is discharged from the factory and starts overland for california. he meets with many adventures. the story is told in a way which has made mr. alger's name a household word in so many homes. =the train boy.= by horatio alger, jr. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . paul palmer was a wide-awake boy of sixteen who supported his mother and sister by selling books and papers on the chicago and milwaukee railroad. he detects a young man in the act of picking the pocket of a young lady. in a railway accident many passengers are killed, but paul is fortunate enough to assist a chicago merchant, who out of gratitude takes him into his employ. paul succeeds with tact and judgment and is well started on the road to business prominence. =mark mason's victory.= the trials and triumphs of a telegraph boy. by horatio alger, jr. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . mark mason, the telegraph boy, was a sturdy, honest lad, who pluckily won his way to success by his honest manly efforts under many difficulties. this story will please the very large class of boys who regard mr. alger as a favorite author. =a debt of honor.= the story of gerald lane's success in the far west. by horatio alger, jr. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . the story of gerald lane and the account of the many trials and disappointments which he passed through before he attained success, will interest all boys who have read the previous stories of this delightful author. =ben bruce.= scenes in the life of a bowery newsboy. by horatio alger, jr. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . ben bruce was a brave, manly, generous boy. the story of his efforts, and many seeming failures and disappointments, and his final success, are most interesting to all readers. the tale is written in mr. alger's most fascinating style. =the castaways=; or, on the florida reefs. by james otis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . this tale smacks of the salt sea. from the moment that the sea queen leaves lower new york bay till the breeze leaves her becalmed off the coast of florida, one can almost hear the whistle of the wind through her rigging, the creak of her straining cordage as she heels to the leeward. the adventures of ben clark, the hero of the story and jake the cook, cannot fail to charm the reader. as a writer for young people mr. otis is a prime favorite. =wrecked on spider island=; or, how ned rogers found the treasure. by james otis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . ned rogers, a "down-east" plucky lad ships as cabin boy to earn a livelihood. ned is marooned on spider island, and while there discovers a wreck submerged in the sand, and finds a considerable amount of treasure. the capture of the treasure and the incidents of the voyage serve to make as entertaining a story of sea-life as the most captious boy could desire. =the search for the silver city=: a tale of adventure in yucatan. by james otis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . two lads, teddy wright and neal emery, embark on the steam yacht day dream for a cruise to the tropics. the yacht is destroyed by fire, and then the boat is cast upon the coast of yucatan. they hear of the wonderful silver city, of the chan santa cruz indians, and with the help of a faithful indian ally carry off a number of the golden images from the temples. pursued with relentless vigor at last their escape is effected in an astonishing manner. the story is so full of exciting incidents that the reader is quite carried away with the novelty and realism of the narrative. =a runaway brig=; or, an accidental cruise. by james otis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . this is a sea tale, and the reader can look out upon the wide shimmering sea as it flashes back the sunlight, and imagine himself afloat with harry vandyne, walter morse, jim libby and that old shell-back, bob brace, on the brig bonita. the boys discover a mysterious document which enables them to find a buried treasure. they are stranded on an island and at last are rescued with the treasure. the boys are sure to be fascinated with this entertaining story. =the treasure finders=: a boy's adventures in nicaragua. by james otis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . roy and dean coloney, with their guide tongla, leave their father's indigo plantation to visit the wonderful ruins of an ancient city. the boys eagerly explore the temples of an extinct race and discover three golden images cunningly hidden away. they escape with the greatest difficulty. eventually they reach safety with their golden prizes. we doubt if there ever was written a more entertaining story than "the treasure finders." =jack, the hunchback.= a story of the coast of maine. by james otis. price $ . . this is the story of a little hunchback who lived on cape elizabeth, on the coast of maine. his trials and successes are most interesting. from first to last nothing stays the interest of the narrative. it bears us along as on a stream whose current varies in direction, but never loses its force. =with washington at monmouth=: a story of three philadelphia boys. by james otis. mo, ornamental cloth, olivine edges, illustrated, price $ . . three philadelphia lads assist the american spies and make regular and frequent visits to valley forge in the winter while the british occupied the city. the story abounds with pictures of colonial life skillfully drawn, and the glimpses of washington's soldiers which are given show that the work has not been hastily done, or without considerable study. the story is wholesome and patriotic in tone, as are all of mr. otis' works. =with lafayette at yorktown=: a story of how two boys joined the continental army. by james otis. mo, ornamental cloth, olivine edges, illustrated, price $ . . two lads from portmouth, n. h., attempt to enlist in the colonial army, and are given employment as spies. there is no lack of exciting incidents which the youthful reader craves, but it is healthful excitement brimming with facts which every boy should be familiar with, and while the reader is following the adventures of ben jaffrays and ned allen he is acquiring a fund of historical lore which will remain in his memory long after that which he has memorized from textbooks has been forgotten. =at the siege of havana.= being the experiences of three boys serving under israel putnam in . by james otis. mo, ornamental cloth, olivine edges, illustrated, price $ . . "at the siege of havana" deals with that portion of the island's history when the english king captured the capital, thanks to the assistance given by the troops from new england, led in part by col. israel putnam. the principal characters are darius lunt, the lad who, represented as telling the story, and his comrades, robert clement and nicholas vallet. colonel putnam also figures to considerable extent, necessarily, in the tale, and the whole forms one of the most readable stories founded on historical facts. =the defense of fort henry.= a story of wheeling creek in . by james otis. mo, ornamental cloth, olivine edges, illustrated, price $ . . nowhere in the history of our country can be found more heroic or thrilling incidents than in the story of those brave men and women who founded the settlement of wheeling in the colony of virginia. the recital of what elizabeth zane did is in itself as heroic a story as can be imagined. the wondrous bravery displayed by major mcculloch and his gallant comrades, the sufferings of the colonists and their sacrifice of blood and life, stir the blood of old as well as young readers. =the capture of the laughing mary.= a story of three new york boys in . by james otis. mo, ornamental cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "during the british occupancy of new york, at the outbreak of the revolution, a yankee lad hears of the plot to take general washington's person, and calls in two companions to assist the patriot cause. they do some astonishing things, and, incidentally, lay the way for an american navy later, by the exploit which gives its name to the work. mr. otis' books are too well known to require any particular commendation to the young."--=evening post.= =with warren at bunker hill.= a story of the siege of boston. by james otis. mo, ornamental cloth, olivine edges, illustrated, price $ . . "this is a tale of the siege of boston, which opens on the day after the doings at lexington and concord, with a description of home life in boston, introduces the reader to the british camp at charlestown, shows gen. warren at home, describes what a boy thought of the battle of bunker hill, and closes with the raising of the siege. the three heroes, george wentworth, ben scarlett and an old ropemaker, incur the enmity of a young tory, who causes them many adventures the boys will like to read."--=detroit free press.= =with the swamp fox.= the story of general marion's spies. by james otis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . this story deals with general francis marion's heroic struggle in the carolinas. general marion's arrival to take command of these brave men and rough riders is pictured as a boy might have seen it, and although the story is devoted to what the lads did, the swamp fox is ever present in the mind of the reader. =on the kentucky frontier.= a story of the fighting pioneers of the west. by james otis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . in the history of our country there is no more thrilling story than that of the work done on the mississippi river by a handful of frontiersmen. mr. otis takes the reader on that famous expedition from the arrival of major clarke's force at corn island, until kaskaskia was captured. he relates that part of simon kenton's life history which is not usually touched upon either by the historian or the story teller. this is one of the most entertaining books for young people which has been published. =sarah dillard's ride.= a story of south carolina in . by james otis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . "this book deals with the carolinas in , giving a wealth of detail of the mountain men who struggled so valiantly against the king's troops. major ferguson is the prominent british officer of the story, which is told as though coming from a youth who experienced these adventures. in this way the famous ride of sarah dillard is brought out as an incident of the plot."--=boston journal.= =a tory plot.= a story of the attempt to kill general washington. by james otis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . "'a tory plot' is the story of two lads who overhear something of the plot originated during the revolution by gov. tryon to capture or murder washington. they communicate their knowledge to gen. putnam and are commissioned by him to play the role of detectives in the matter. they do so, and meet with many adventures and hairbreadth escapes. the boys are, of course, mythical, but they serve to enable the author to put into very attractive shape much valuable knowledge concerning one phase of the revolution."--=pittsburgh times.= =a traitor's escape.= a story of the attempt to seize benedict arnold. by james otis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . "this is a tale with stirring scenes depicted in each chapter, bringing clearly before the mind the glorious deeds of the early settlers in this country. in an historical work dealing with this country's past, no plot can hold the attention closer than this one, which describes the attempt and partial success of benedict arnold's escape to new york, where he remained as the guest of sir henry clinton. all those who actually figured in the arrest of the traitor, as well as gen. washington, are included as characters."--=albany union.= =a cruise with paul jones.= a story of naval warfare in . by james otis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . "this story takes up that portion of paul jones' adventurous life when he was hovering off the british coast, watching for an opportunity to strike the enemy a blow. it deals more particularly with his descent upon whitehaven, the seizure of lady selkirk's plate, and the famous battle with the drake. the boy who figures in the tale is one who was taken from a derelict by paul jones shortly after this particular cruise was begun."--=chicago inter-ocean.= =corporal lige's recruit.= a story of crown point and ticonderoga. by james otis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . "in 'corporal lige's recruit,' mr. otis tells the amusing story of an old soldier, proud of his record, who had served the king in ' , and who takes the lad, isaac rice, as his 'personal recruit.' the lad acquits himself superbly. col. ethan allen 'in the name of god and the continental congress,' infuses much martial spirit into the narrative, which will arouse the keenest interest as it proceeds. crown point, ticonderoga, benedict arnold and numerous other famous historical names appear in this dramatic tale."--=boston globe.= =morgan, the jersey spy.= a story of the siege of yorktown in . by james otis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . "the two lads who are utilized by the author to emphasize the details of the work done during that memorable time were real boys who lived on the banks of the york river, and who aided the jersey spy in his dangerous occupation. in the guise of fishermen the lads visit yorktown, are suspected of being spies, and put under arrest. morgan risks his life to save them. the final escape, the thrilling encounter with a squad of red coats, when they are exposed equally to the bullets of friends and foes, told in a masterly fashion, makes of this volume one of the most entertaining books of the year."--=inter-ocean.= =the young scout=: the story of a west point lieutenant. by edward s. ellis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . the crafty apache chief geronimo but a few years ago was the most terrible scourge of the southwest border. the author has woven, in a tale of thrilling interest, all the incidents of geronimo's last raid. the hero is lieutenant james decker, a recent graduate of west point. ambitious to distinguish himself the young man takes many a desperate chance against the enemy and on more than one occasion narrowly escapes with his life. in our opinion mr. ellis is the best writer of indian stories now before the public. =adrift in the wilds=: the adventures of two shipwrecked boys. by edward s. ellis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . elwood brandon and howard lawrence are en route for san francisco. off the coast of california the steamer takes fire. the two boys reach the shore with several of the passengers. young brandon becomes separated from his party and is captured by hostile indians, but is afterwards rescued. this is a very entertaining narrative of southern california. =a young hero=; or, fighting to win. by edward s. ellis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . this story tells how a valuable solid silver service was stolen from the misses perkinpine, two very old and simple minded ladies. fred sheldon, the hero of this story, undertakes to discover the thieves and have them arrested. after much time spent in detective work, he succeeds in discovering the silver plate and winning the reward. the story is told in mr. ellis' most fascinating style. every boy will be glad to read this delightful book. =lost in the rockies.= a story of adventure in the rocky mountains. by edward s. ellis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . incident succeeds incident, and adventure is piled upon adventure, and at the end the reader, be he boy or man, will have experienced breathless enjoyment in this romantic story describing many adventures in the rockies and among the indians. =a jaunt through java=: the story of a journey to the sacred mountain. by edward s. ellis. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . the interest of this story is found in the thrilling adventures of two cousins, hermon and eustace hadley, on their trip across the island of java, from samarang to the sacred mountain. in a land where the royal bengal tiger, the rhinoceros, and other fierce beasts are to be met with, it is but natural that the heroes of this book should have a lively experience. there is not a dull page in the book. =the boy patriot.= a story of jack, the young friend of washington. by edward s. ellis. mo, cloth, olivine edges, illustrated, price $ . . "there are adventures of all kinds for the hero and his friends, whose pluck and ingenuity in extricating themselves from awkward fixes are always equal to the occasion. it is an excellent story full of honest, manly, patriotic efforts on the part of the hero. a very vivid description of the battle of trenton is also found in this story."--=journal of education.= =a yankee lad's pluck.= how bert larkin saved his father's ranch in porto rico. by wm. p. chipman. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . "bert larkin, the hero of the story, early excites our admiration, and is altogether a fine character such as boys will delight in, whilst the story of his numerous adventures is very graphically told. this will, we think, prove one of the most popular boys' books this season."--=gazette.= =a brave defense.= a story of the massacre at fort griswold in . by william p. chipman. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . perhaps no more gallant fight against fearful odds took place during the revolutionary war than that at fort griswold, groton heights, conn., in . the boys are real boys who were actually on the muster rolls, either at fort trumbull on the new london side, or of fort griswold on the groton side of the thames. the youthful reader who follows halsey sanford and levi dart and tom malleson, and their equally brave comrades, through their thrilling adventures will be learning something more than historical facts; they will be imbibing lessons of fidelity, of bravery, of heroism, and of manliness, which must prove serviceable in the arena of life. =the young minuteman.= a story of the capture of general prescott in . by william p. chipman. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . this story is based upon actual events which occurred during the british occupation of the waters of narragansett bay. darius wale and william northrop belong to "the coast patrol." the story is a strong one, dealing only with actual events. there is, however, no lack of thrilling adventure, and every lad who is fortunate enough to obtain the book will find not only that his historical knowledge is increased, but that his own patriotism and love of country are deepened. =for the temple=: a tale of the fall of jerusalem. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by s. j. solomon. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "mr. henty's graphic prose picture of the hopeless jewish resistance to roman sway adds another leaf to his record of the famous wars of the world. the book is one of mr. henty's cleverest efforts."--=graphic.= =roy gilbert's search=: a tale of the great lakes. by wm. p. chipman. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . a deep mystery hangs over the parentage of roy gilbert. he arranges with two schoolmates to make a tour of the great lakes on a steam launch. the three boys visit many points of interest on the lakes. afterwards the lads rescue an elderly gentleman and a lady from a sinking yacht. later on the boys narrowly escape with their lives. the hero is a manly, self-reliant boy, whose adventures will be followed with interest. =the slate picker=: the story of a boy's life in the coal mines. by harry prentice. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . this is a story of a boy's life in the coal mines of pennsylvania. ben burton, the hero, had a hard road to travel, but by grit and energy he advanced step by step until he found himself called upon to fill the position of chief engineer of the kohinoor coal company. this is a book of extreme interest to every boy reader. =the boy cruisers=; or, paddling in florida. by st. george rathborne. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . andrew george and rowland carter start on a canoe trip along the gulf coast, from key west to tampa, florida. their first adventure is with a pair of rascals who steal their boats. next they run into a gale in the gulf. after that they have a lively time with alligators and andrew gets into trouble with a band of seminole indians. mr. rathborne knows just how to interest the boys, and lads who are in search of a rare treat will do well to read this entertaining story. =captured by zulus=: a story of trapping in africa. by harry prentice. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . this story details the adventures of two lads, dick elsworth and bob harvey, in the wilds of south africa. by stratagem the zulus capture dick and bob and take them to their principal kraal or village. the lads escape death by digging their way out of the prison hut by night. they are pursued, but the zulus finally give up pursuit. mr. prentice tells exactly how wild-beast collectors secure specimens on their native stamping grounds, and these descriptions make very entertaining reading. =tom the ready=; or, up from the lowest. by randolph hill. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . this is a dramatic narrative of the unaided rise of a fearless, ambitious boy from the lowest round of fortune's ladder to wealth and the governorship of his native state. tom seacomb begins life with a purpose, and eventually overcomes those who oppose him. how he manages to win the battle is told by mr. hill in a masterful way that thrills the reader and holds his attention and sympathy to the end. =captain kidd's gold=: the true story of an adventurous sailor boy. by james franklin fitts. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . there is something fascinating to the average youth in the very idea of buried treasure. a vision arises before his eyes of swarthy portuguese and spanish rascals, with black beards and gleaming eyes. there were many famous sea rovers, but none more celebrated than capt. kidd. paul jones garry inherits a document which locates a considerable treasure buried by two of kidd's crew. the hero of this book is an ambitious, persevering lad, of salt-water new england ancestry, and his efforts to reach the island and secure the money form one of the most absorbing tales for our youth that has come from the press. =the boy explorers=: the adventures of two boys in alaska. by harry prentice. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . two boys, raymond and spencer manning, travel to alaska to join their father in search of their uncle. on their arrival at sitka the boys with an indian guide set off across the mountains. the trip is fraught with perils that test the lads' courage to the utmost. all through their exciting adventures the lads demonstrate what can be accomplished by pluck and resolution, and their experience makes one of the most interesting tales ever written. =the island treasure=; or, harry darrel's fortune. by frank h. converse. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . harry darrel, having received a nautical training on a school-ship, is bent on going to sea. a runaway horse changes his prospects. harry saves dr. gregg from drowning and afterward becomes sailing-master of a sloop yacht. mr. converse's stories possess a charm of their own which is appreciated by lads who delight in good healthy tales that smack of salt water. =guy harris=: the runaway. by harry castlemon. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . guy harris lived in a small city on the shore of one of the great lakes. he is persuaded to go to sea, and gets a glimpse of the rough side of life in a sailor's boarding house. he ships on a vessel and for five months leads a hard life. the book will interest boys generally on account of its graphic style. this is one of castlemon's most attractive stories. =julian mortimer=: a brave boy's struggle for home and fortune. by harry castlemon. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . the scene of the story lies west of the mississippi river, in the days when emigrants made their perilous way across the great plains to the land of gold. there is an attack upon the wagon train by a large party of indians. our hero is a lad of uncommon nerve and pluck. befriended by a stalwart trapper, a real rough diamond, our hero achieves the most happy results. =by pike and dyke=: a tale of the rise of the dutch republic. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by maynard brown. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "boys with a turn for historical research will be enchanted with the book, while the rest who only care for adventure will be students in spite of themselves."--=st. james's gazette.= =st. george for england=: a tale of cressy and poitiers. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by gordon browne. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "a story of very great interest for boys. in his own forcible style the author has endeavored to show that determination and enthusiasm can accomplish marvellous results; and that courage is generally accompanied by magnanimity and gentleness."--=pall mall gazette.= =captain bayley's heir=: a tale of the gold fields of california. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by h. m. paget. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "mr. henty is careful to mingle instruction with entertainment; and the humorous touches, especially in the sketch of john holl, the westminster dustman, dickens himself could hardly have excelled."--=christian leader.= =budd boyd's triumph=; or, the boy firm of fox island. by william p. chipman. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . the scene of this story is laid on the upper part of narragansett bay, and the leading incidents have a strong salt-water flavor. the two boys, budd boyd and judd floyd, being ambitious and clear sighted, form a partnership to catch and sell fish. budd's pluck and good sense carry him through many troubles. in following the career of the boy firm of boyd & floyd, the youthful reader will find a useful lesson--that industry and perseverance are bound to lead to ultimate success. =lost in the canyon=: sam willett's adventures on the great colorado. by alfred r. calhoun. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . this story hinges on a fortune left to sam willett, the hero, and the fact that it will pass to a disreputable relative if the lad dies before he shall have reached his majority. the story of his father's peril and of sam's desperate trip down the great canyon on a raft, and how the party finally escape from their perils is described in a graphic style that stamps mr. calhoun as a master of his art. =captured by apes=: the wonderful adventures of a young animal trainer. by harry prentice. mo, cloth, illustrated, price $ . . philip garland, a young animal collector and trainer, sets sail for eastern seas in quest of a new stock of living curiosities. the vessel is wrecked off the coast of borneo, and young garland is cast ashore on a small island, and captured by the apes that overrun the place. very novel indeed is the way by which the young man escapes death. mr. prentice is a writer of undoubted skill. =under drake's flag=: a tale of the spanish main. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by gordon browne. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "there is not a dull chapter, nor, indeed, a dull page in the book; but the author has so carefully worked up his subject that the exciting deeds of his heroes are never incongruous nor absurd."--=observer.= =by sheer pluck=: a tale of the ashanti war. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by gordon browne. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . the author has woven, in a tale of thrilling interest, all the details of the ashanti campaign, of which he was himself a witness. "mr. henty keeps up his reputation as a writer of boys' stories. 'by sheer pluck' will be eagerly read."--=athenæum.= =with lee in virginia=: a story of the american civil war. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by gordon browne. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "one of the best stories for lads which mr. henty has yet written. the picture is full of life and color, and the stirring and romantic incidents are skillfully blended with the personal interest and charm of the story."--=standard.= =by england's aid=; or, the freeing of the netherlands ( - ). by g. a. henty. with illustrations by alfred pearse. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "it is an admirable book for youngsters. it overflows with stirring incident and exciting adventure, and the color of the era and of the scene are finely reproduced. the illustrations add to its attractiveness."--=boston gazette.= =by right of conquest=; or, with cortez in mexico. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by w. s. stacey. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "the conquest of mexico by a small band of resolute men under the magnificent leadership of cortez is always rightfully ranked among the most romantic and daring exploits in history. 'by right of conquest' is the neatest approach to a perfectly successful historical tale that mr. henty has yet published."--=academy.= =for name and fame=; or, through afghan passes. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by gordon browne. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "not only a rousing story, replete with all the varied forms of excitement of a campaign, but, what is still more useful, an account of a territory and its inhabitants which must for a long time possess a supreme interest for englishmen, as being the key to our indian empire."--=glasgow herald.= =the bravest of the brave=; or, with peterborough in spain. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by h. m. paget. mo cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "mr. henty never loses sight of the moral purpose of his work--to enforce the doctrine of courage and truth, mercy and loving kindness, as indispensable to the making of a gentleman. boys will read 'the bravest of the brave' with pleasure and profit; of that we are quite sure."--=daily telegraph.= =the cat of bubastes=: a story of ancient egypt. by g. a. henty. with illustrations. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "the story, from the critical moment of the killing of the sacred cat to the perilous exodus into asia with which it closes, is very skillfully constructed and full of exciting adventures. it is admirably illustrated."--=saturday review.= =bonnie prince charlie=: a tale of fontenoy and culloden. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by gordon browne. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "ronald, the hero, is very like the hero of 'quentin durward.' the lad's journey across france, and his hairbreadth escapes, makes up as good a narrative of the kind as we have ever read. for freshness of treatment and variety of incident mr. henty has surpassed himself."--=spectator.= =with clive in india=; or, the beginnings of an empire. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by gordon browne. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "he has taken a period of indian history of the most vital importance, and he has embroidered on the historical facts a story which of itself is deeply interesting. young people assuredly will be delighted with the volume."--=scotsman.= =in the reign of terror=: the adventures of a westminster boy. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by j. sch�nberg. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "harry sandwith, the westminster boy, may fairly be said to beat mr. henty's record. his adventures will delight boys by the audacity and peril they depict. the story is one of mr. henty's best."--=saturday review.= =the lion of the north=: a tale of gustavus adolphus and the wars of religion. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by john sch�nberg. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "a praiseworthy attempt to interest british youth in the great deeds of the scotch brigade in the wars of gustavus adolphus. mackey, hepburn, and munro live again in mr. henty's pages, as those deserve to live whose disciplined bands formed really the germ of the modern british army."--=athenæum.= =the dragon and the raven=; or, the days of king alfred. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by c. j. staniland. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "in this story the author gives an account of the fierce struggle between saxon and dane for supremacy in england, and presents a vivid picture of the misery and ruin to which the country was reduced by the ravages of the sea-wolves. the story is treated in a manner most attractive to the boyish reader."--=athenæum.= =the young carthaginian=: a story of the times of hannibal. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by c. j. staniland. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "well constructed and vividly told. from first to last nothing stays the interest of the narrative. it bears us along as on a stream whose current varies in direction, but never loses its force."--=saturday review.= =in freedom's cause=: a story of wallace and bruce. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by gordon browne. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "it is written in the author's best style. full of the wildest and most remarkable achievements, it is a tale of great interest, which a boy, once he has begun it, will not willingly put one side."--=the schoolmaster.= =with wolfe in canada=; or, the winning of a continent. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by gordon browne. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "a model of what a boys' story-book should be. mr. henty has a great power of infusing into the dead facts of history new life, and as no pains are spared by him to ensure accuracy in historic details, his books supply useful aids to study as well as amusement."--=school guardian.= =true to the old flag=: a tale of the american war of independence. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by gordon browne. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "does justice to the pluck and determination of the british soldiers during the unfortunate struggle against american emancipation. the son of an american loyalist, who remains true to our flag, falls among the hostile red-skins in that very huron country which has been endeared to us by the exploits of hawkeye and chingachgook."--=the times.= =a final reckoning=: a tale of bush life in australia. by g. a. henty. with illustrations by w. b. wollen. mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $ . . "all boys will read this story with eager and unflagging interest. the episodes are in mr. henty's very best vein--graphic, exciting, realistic; and, as in all mr. henty's books, the tendency is to the formation of an honorable, manly, and even heroic character."--=birmingham post.= for sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the publisher, =a. l. burt, - duane street, new york=. [illustration: cover art] wolf ear the indian a story of the great uprising of - by edward s. ellis author of "captured by indians," "a hunt on snow shoes," "the mountain star," etc. etc. with four full-page illustrations by alfred pearse seventeenth thousand cassell and company, limited london, new york, toronto and melbourne all rights reserved contents chapter i. "the bullet had passed startlingly near him" chapter ii. "he's up to some mischief, i'll warrant" chapter iii. "there are fifty hostiles" chapter iv. "we are enemies" chapter v. "what will be their next step?" chapter vi. "ay, where were they?" chapter vii. "it came like one of them kansan cyclones" chapter viii. "the bucks were coming up alarmingly fast" chapter ix. "he has made his last scout" chapter x. "oh, there is wolf ear?" chapter xi. "i'm off! good-bye!" chapter xii. what happened to wolf ear list of illustrations "i'm off! good-bye!" . . . _frontispiece_ "the figure of a sioux buck" "hurrah!" "oh, there is wolf ear!" [transcriber's note: the first three illustrations were missing from the source book.] wolf ear the indian chapter i. "the bullet had passed startlingly near him." before relating to my young friends the incidents which follow, i think a few words of explanation will help them. perhaps some of you share the general mistake that the american indians are dying out. this is not the fact. there are to-day more red men in the united states than ever before. in number, they exceed a quarter of a million, and though they do not increase as fast as the whites, still they are increasing. it is true that a great many tribes have disappeared, while others that were once numerous and powerful have dwindled to a few hundreds; but on the other hand, tribes that were hardly known a century ago now include thousands. the many wars between the united states and the indians have been caused, almost without exception, by gross injustice towards the red men. they have been wronged in every way, until in their rage they turned against their oppressors. the sad fact at such times is that the ones who have used them so ill generally escape harm, while the innocent suffer. the indian reasons that it is the white race that has wronged him, so he does them all the injury he can, without caring whether the one whom he slays has had a hand in his own persecution. the indian, like all savages, is very superstitious. he loves to think over the time, hundreds of years ago, when the red men roamed over the whole continent from ocean to ocean. he dreams of those days, and believes they will again return--that the pale faces will be driven into the sea, and the vast land become the hunting ground of the indians. some years ago this strange faith took a wonderfully strong hold upon those people. the belief spread that a messiah was coming in the spring of , who would destroy the pale faces and give all the country back to the red men. they began holding wild dances, at which the dancers took hold of hands and leaped and shouted and circled round and round until they dropped to the ground, senseless and almost dead. these "ghost dances," as they were called, were carried on to please the new messiah. when the dancers recovered, they told strange stories of having visited the other world. all who listened believed them. the craze spread like wildfire, and before the government understood what was going on, the indians were making ready for war. they were well armed, eager to attack the whites. the principal tribe was the dakota or sioux, the most powerful on the american continent. the leading chief or medicine man was sitting bull. he was a bad man who had made trouble for more than twenty years. he could not endure the white men, and, when not actively engaged against them, was thinking out some scheme of evil. as soon as the new messiah craze broke out, he turned it to account. he sent his friends among the tribes and urged them to unite in a general war against the whites. the officers and soldiers were very patient, and did their best to soothe the red men, but matters grew worse and worse. trouble was sure to come if sitting bull were allowed to keep up his mischievous work. so it was decided to arrest him. in the attempt several people were killed, among them sitting bull himself. danger still threatened, and many believed that it would require a great battle to subdue the indians. now, if you will look at your map of the united states, you will notice that the missouri river runs across the middle of the new state of south dakota. on the southern boundary of the state, a large tract of land, reaching one-third of the way westward to wyoming, and with the white river forming in a general way the northern boundary, makes what is known as an indian reservation. there are many of these in the west. they belong to the indians, and the government has an agency at each, to see that no white people intrude. the indians are forbidden to leave these reservations without obtaining permission, and at the agencies they receive the annuities or supplies paid to them by the united states government for the lands elsewhere which they have given up. half of the reservation directly west of the missouri is the rosebud agency, and the other half the pine ridge agency. it was at the latter that the grave trouble threatened. when the discontent was so general, the danger extended hundreds of miles north and west. that section is thinly settled, and the pioneers were in great peril. most of them hurried to the nearest forts for safety, while others waited, hoping the cloud would soon pass by. if your map of south dakota is a complete one, it will show you a small stream to the westward of pine ridge, named raccoon creek, a tributary of cherry creek, itself a branch of the big cheyenne river. at the time of the troubles, the kingsland family, consisting of hugh, a man in middle life, his wife molly, his daughter edith, eight years old, and his son brinton, a little more than double her age, were living on raccoon creek. the family had emigrated thither three years before from kansas, and all would have gone well in their new home, but for the illness of mr. kingsland. something in the climate disagreed with him, though the rest of the family throve. he was first brought low with chills and fever, which after several months' obstinate fight finally left him weak and dispirited. then, when he was fairly recovered, the slipping of an axe in his hands so wounded his foot that he was laid up for fully two months more. it looked as if ill-fortune was to follow him so long at least as he stayed in south dakota, for sickness, accident, and misfortune succeeded each other, until he would have despaired but for those around him. his wife was well fitted to be the helpmate of a pioneer, for she was hopeful, industrious, strong, and brave. she carefully nursed him, making light of their afflictions, and declaring that all would soon come right, and that prosperity would prove the sweeter from having been deferred so long. edith, bright-eyed, pretty, affectionate and loving, was the comfort of those hours which otherwise would have been intolerably dismal, when confined in his small humble home. he read to and taught her, told her delightful fairy stories, listened to her innocent prattle and exchanged the sweetest of confidences. sometimes hugh kingsland wondered after all whether he was not the most fortunate individual in the world in being thus blessed in his family relations. and there was another from whom the meed of praise must not be withheld. that was brinton, now close upon seventeen years of age. the ill-fortune to which we have alluded made him in one sense the virtual head of the family. he was strong, cheerful, and resembled his mother in his hopeful disposition. the difficulties in which his father was continually involved brought out the real manhood of his nature. he looked after the cattle and live stock, galloped across the plains to hermosa, fairburn, rapid city, and other points for supplies or on other business, or, fording the big cheyenne, white, and smaller streams, crossed the reservation to pine ridge. the youth was indispensable, and did his work so well, that the father, in his occasional moments of rallying, remarked that he thought of continuing to play the sick man, since it was proved that he was of no account. "i hope you will soon become well," said the red-cheeked lad one evening, as the group gathered around the fire; "but stay here in the house as long as you wish, for mother and edith and i can get along without your help." "yes, husband; don't fret over that. only become well, and until you do so, be assured that everything is going along as it should." "i have never had a doubt of that; but, ah me," he added with a sigh, "this is tiresome after all, especially when it begins to look as though i shall never be well again." "for my part," said edith very earnestly, "i don't want you to get well, and i am praying that you will not." "why, edith!" exclaimed the mother reproachfully, while her brother did not know whether to laugh or be shocked at the odd expression. as for the father, he laughed more heartily than he had done for weeks. edith looked wonderingly in their faces, and felt that some explanation was due to them. "i mean to say--that is i don't mean anything bad, but if papa gets well enough to ride out to look after the cattle, and is working all day, why, i won't have anyone to tell me stories and read to me and do so many funny things." "your explanation is satisfactory," said her father, smiling. "i shall have to stay in the house for some weeks--that is certain, and perhaps longer." "oh, i am _so_ glad!" but with the first clapping of the chubby hands, edith realised that she was doing wrong again, and she added in a gentler voice-- "if papa feels bad when he is ill then i am sorry for him, and will pray every night and morning that he may get well." it was winter time, and the kingslands in their humble home could not be ignorant of the alarming state of affairs around them. they had been urged to come into the agency while it was safe to do so, for the revolt among the indians was spreading, and there was no saying when escape would be cut off. the family had considered the question with the seriousness due to so important a matter. naturally, they were reluctant to abandon their home now, for it would be virtually throwing away everything they owned in the world; but when it became a question of life and death, there could be no hesitation. on the very night, however, that the decision to remove to the agency was made, sergeant victor parkhurst, who was out on a scout, with a squad of men from pine ridge, called at their home and stated his belief that no trouble would occur. he said it would be better if the family were at pine ridge, and he offered to escort them thither. but, he added, that in mr. kingsland's feeble condition it would be as well for him to stay where he was, since he must run great risk by exposure in the depth of winter. the next caller at the cabin was nicholas jackson, who had been a scout under general crook, and was now serving general miles in the same capacity at pine ridge. he brought news of sitting bull's death, and assured the pioneer that every day spent by him and his family away from the agency increased their peril. "you shouldn't delay your start a single hour," was his remark, as he vaulted upon his pony and skurried away. before deciding the all-important question, it was agreed that brinton should gallop down to the reservation and learn the real situation. it was a long ride to pine ridge, and involved the crossing of the cheyenne, white, and several smaller streams, but the youth was confident he could penetrate far enough to ascertain the truth and get back by sunset. if it were necessary to go all the way to the agency, this was impossible, for the days were at their shortest, but he must penetrate that far to find out what he wished to know. when brinton flung himself into the saddle of jack, his tough and intelligent pony, just as it was beginning to grow light in the east, after his hasty breakfast and "good-bye," he was sure he would be caught in a snow-storm before his return. the dull heavy sky, and the peculiar penetrating chilliness, left no doubt on that point. but with his usual pluck, he chirruped to his pony, lightly jerked his bridle rein, and the gallant animal was off at a swinging pace, which he was able to maintain for hours without fatigue. he was heading south-east, over the faintly marked trail, with which the youth was familiar and which was so well known to the animal himself that he needed no guidance. two hours later, the young horseman reached the border line of custer and washington counties, that is between the county of his own home and the reservation. this was made by the big cheyenne river, which had to be crossed before pine ridge was reached. brinton reined up his horse and sat for some minutes, looking down on the stream, in which huge pieces of ice were floating, though it was not frozen over. "that isn't very inviting, jack," he said, "but the ford is shallow and it's no use waiting." he was in the act of starting his pony down the bank, when on the heavy chilly air sounded a dull explosive crack. a nipping of his coat sleeve showed that the bullet had passed startlingly near him. he turned his head like a flash, and saw, not more than a hundred feet distant, the figure of a sioux buck or young warrior bareback on his horse, which was standing motionless, while his rider made ready to let fly with another shot from his winchester rifle. chapter ii. "he's up to some mischief, i'll warrant." the instant brinton kingsland looked around and saw the indian on his pony, a short distance away, with his rifle at his shoulder and about to fire a second time, he brought his own winchester to a level and aimed at the one who had attempted thus treacherously to shoot him in the back. the indian was no older than himself, sitting firmly on the bare back of his horse, with his blanket wrapped about his shoulders, and several stained eagle feathers protruding from his hair, as black and coarse as that of his pony's tail. his dark eyes glittered as they glanced along the barrel of his rifle, and he aimed straight at the breast of the youth, who instead of flinging himself over the side of his horse in the attempt to dodge the deadly missile, sat bolt upright and aimed in turn at the miscreant, who, as if stirred by the same scorn of personal danger, remained firmly in his seat. it all depended on who should fire first, and that which we have related took place, as may be said, in the twinkling of an eye. but with the weapons poised, the eyes of the two glancing along the barrels and the fingers on the triggers, neither gun was discharged. brinton was on the point of firing, when the indian abruptly lowered his winchester, with the exclamation-- "hoof! brinton!" the white youth had recognised the other at the same instant when another moment would have been too late. he, too, dropped the stock of his gun from his shoulder and called out with a surprised expression-- "wolf ear!" the indian touched his pony with his heel, and the animal moved forward briskly, until the riders faced each other within arm's length. "how do you do?" asked the ogalalla, extending his hand, which brinton took with a smile, and the reproving remark-- "i did not expect such a welcome from you, wolf ear." "i did not know it was you, good friend brinton." "and suppose you did not; are you the sort of warrior that shoots another in the back?" the broad face, with its high cheek bones, coppery skin, low forehead and roman nose, changed from the pleasant smile which gave a glimpse of the even white teeth, to a scowl, that told the ugly feelings that had been stirred by the questioning remark of the white youth. "your people have become my enemies: they have killed sitting bull, black bird, catch-the-bear, little assiniboine, spotted horse bull, brave thunder, and my friend, crow foot, who was the favourite son of sitting bull. he was as a brother to me." "and your people have killed bull head, shave head, little eagle, afraid-of-soldiers, hawk man, and others of their own race, who were wise enough to remain friends of our people. i know of that fight when they set out to arrest sitting bull." "they had no right to arrest him," said wolf ear, with a flash of his black eyes; "he was in his own tepee (or tent), and harming no one." "he was doing more harm to his own people as well as ours, than all the other malcontents together. he was the plotter of mischief; he encouraged this nonsense about the ghost dances and the coming messiah, and was doing all he could to bring about a great war between my people and yours. his death is the best fortune that could come to the indians." "it was murder," said wolf ear sullenly, and then, before the other could frame a reply, his swarthy face lightened up. "but you and i, brinton, are friends; i shot at you because i thought you were someone else; it would have grieved my heart had i done you harm; i am glad i did not; i offer you my hand." young kingsland could not refuse the proffer, though he was far from feeling comfortable, despite his narrow escape a moment before. "i thought you were a civilised indian, wolf ear," he added, as he relinquished the grasp, and the two once more looked in each other's countenances; "you told me so when i last saw you." wolf ear, the ogalalla, was sent to carlisle, when only eight years old. unusually bright, he had made good progress, and won the golden opinions of his teachers by his gentle, studious deportment, and affection for those that had been kind to him. he spoke english as well as the whites, and was a fine scholar. he went back to his people, when sixteen years old, and did what he could to win them from their savagery and barbarism. he and brinton kingsland met while hunting at the base of the black hills, and became great friends. the young ogalalla visited the white youth at his home on raccoon creek, where he was kindly treated by the kingslands, and formed a deep affection for little edith. but nothing had been seen of wolf ear for several months. the home of his people was some distance away, but that should not have prevented him from visiting his white friends, who often wondered why he did not show himself among them. rather curiously, brinton was thinking of his dusky comrade at the moment he was roused by the shot which nipped his coat sleeve. it was natural that he should be disappointed, and impatient to find that this bright indian youth, who had lived for several years among civilised people, was carried away by the wave of excitement that was sweeping across the country. he knew that his twin brother and his father were still savages, and it was easy to find excuse for them, but not for wolf ear. "you believe in the coming of one to save your people--why should not we place faith in the coming of our messiah?" was the pertinent question of wolf ear. "what is this revelation?" asked brinton, who had heard many conflicting accounts of the strange craze, and felt a natural desire for an authoritative statement. "the messiah once descended to save the white race, but they rejected and put him to death. in turn he rejects them, and will come in the spring, when the grass is about two inches high, and save his red children and destroy his white ones. he has enjoined upon all of us who believe in him to wear a certain dress and to practise the ghost dance, as often and as long as we possibly can, as a proof of our faith. if any of us die from exhaustion, while performing this ceremony, we will be taken direct to the messiah, where we shall meet those who have died, and whence we will come back to tell the living what we have seen and heard. when the messiah comes in the spring, a new earth will be created, covering the present world, burying all the whites and those red men that have not joined in the dance. the messiah will again bring with him the departed of our own people, and the earth shall once more be as our forefathers knew it, except there shall be no more death." brinton kingsland listened, amazed as this expression fell from the lips of one who had often lamented the superstition of his own race. that he believed the words he uttered was proven by his earnestness of manner and the glow of his countenance. the white youth restrained his impulse to ridicule the strange faith, for that assuredly would have given offence to the fanatic, who had the right to believe whatever he chose. "well, wolf ear, i can only say i am sorry that you should have been carried away by this error----" "by what right do you call it error?" interrupted the other with a flash of his eyes. "we will not discuss it. it will do no good, and is likely to do harm. i need not be told that you belong to the hostiles, and, if trouble comes, will fight against the whites." "yes, you are right," calmly replied the ogalalla, compressing his thin lips and nodding his head a single time. "your father and brother, whom i have never seen, would shoot me and my folk if they had the chance." "yes, and so would my mother: she is a warrior too." "but suppose you and i or my father meet, or you have the chance to harm my mother and little sister, edith?" "wolf ear can never raise his hand against them, no matter what harm they may seek to do him. i do not have to tell you that you and i will always be friends, whatever may come." this assurance would have had more weight with young kingsland could he have felt certain that wolf ear was truthful in declaring that he did not suspect his identity at the moment of firing at him. "i believe he meant to take my life," was his thought, "and still meant to do so, when he raised his winchester a second time, but as we looked into each other's face, he weakened. his people are treacherous, and this pretence of goodwill will not last, or, if it be genuine for the present, it will soon change." brinton said-- "you know where we live, wolf ear; i have set out to ride to the reservation to learn whether it is safe to stay where we are: what is your judgment in the matter?" an indefinable expression passed over the broad face before him. the ogalalla sat gracefully on his horse, even though he had no saddle. a bit was in the pony's mouth, the single rein looping around the neck and resting at the base of the mane, just in front of the rider, who allowed it to lie there, while the two hands idly held the rifle across the back of the animal and his own thighs. "you stayed too long," said he; "you should have left two weeks ago; _it is too late now_." "but you know my father is not well, wolf ear," replied brinton, with a sickening dread in his heart. "what has that to do with this?" "we did not wish to expose him to the severe weather, as we must in the ride to the agency." "is he better and stronger now?" "there is little improvement in his condition. he has been ailing a long time, as you know." "then you have gained nothing and will lose all by your delay." brinton had no further wish to discuss the ghost dance and the coming of the new messiah with the young ogalalla. all his thoughts were of those dear ones, miles away, whose dreadful peril he now fully comprehended for the first time. he saw the mistake that had been made by the delay, and a faintness came over him at the declaration of wolf ear that this delay was fatal. his horse was facing the north-west, the direction of his home. there was no call for longer tarrying. "good-bye," he said, giving the indian a military salute; "i hope we shall meet ha more pleasant circumstances, when you shall see, wolf ear, the mistake you are making." trained in the ways of the white people, the dusky youth raised his hand to his forehead, and sat motionless on his horse, without speaking, as his friend dashed across the plain, over the trail which he had followed to the banks of the big cheyenne. it was not yet noon, and brinton was hopeful of reaching home long before the day drew to a close. the chilliness of the air continued, and a few feathery flakes of snow drifted horizontally on the wind or were whirled about the head of the young horseman. he glanced up at the leaden sky and noted that the temperature was falling. "like enough we shall have one of those blizzards, when the horses and cattle freeze to death under shelter and we can only huddle and shiver around the fire and wait for the tempest to pass. it will be the death of us all, if we start for the agency and are caught in one of the blizzards, but death awaits us if we stay. ah me, what will become of father, ill and weak as he is?" the words of wolf ear made the youth more circumspect and alert than when riding away from his home. he continually glanced ahead, on his right and left and to the rear. the first look in the last direction showed him the young ogalalla sitting like a statue on his pony and gazing after him. some minutes later, when brinton turned his head again, he saw him riding at a rapid pace towards the north, or rather a little west of north, so that the course of the two slightly diverged. "he's up to some mischief, i'll warrant," was brinton's conclusion, "and he already recalls his profession of friendship for me. halloa! i don't like the look of _that_." in the precise direction pursued by the ogalalla, which was toward rapid creek, a tributary of the big cheyenne, he discerned several indian horsemen. they were riding close, and were so mingled together that it was impossible to tell their number. they seemed to be about half a dozen, and were advancing as if to meet wolf ear, who must have descried them before brinton. "they will soon unite, and when they do he will be the fiercest warrior among them. i wonder----" he held his breath a moment, and then only whisper-- "i wonder if they have not already visited our home?" chapter iii. "there are fifty hostiles." to the westward the black hills thrust their vast rugged summits against the wintry sky; to the south, a spur of the same mountains put out toward the frontier town of buffalo gap; to the north-east wound the big cheyenne, on its way to the missouri, and marking through a part of its course the southern boundary of the cheyenne reservation, while creek, stream, and river crossed the rolling plain that intervened, and over all stretched the sunless sky, from which the snow-flakes were eddying and whirling to the frozen earth below. but brinton kingsland had no eye for any of these things, upon which he had looked many a time and oft. his thoughts were with those loved ones in the humble cabin, still miles away, toward the towering mountains, while his immediate anxiety was about the hostiles that had appeared in his front and were now circling to the northward as if to meet wolf ear, the young ogalalla, who was galloping in the face of the biting gale and rapidly drawing toward them. brinton's expectation that they would lose no time in coming together was not precisely fulfilled, for while the horsemen were yet a long way off, they swerved sharply, as though they identified the youth for the first time. "they intend to give me some attention," was his thought, "without waiting for wolf ear to join them. they know that i belong to the white race, and that is enough." the youth did not feel any special alarm for himself, for he was confident that jack was as fleet-footed as any of the animals bestrode by the hostiles, and would leave them behind in a fair race. he noticed that the ogalalla was mounted on a superior beast, but he did not believe he could outspeed jack. but it would never do to meet those half-dozen horsemen that had faced toward him, and were approaching at the same swinging gallop. brinton diverged more to the left, thus leaving the trail, and they also changed their course, as if to head him off. "if it is to be a race, i am throwing away my chances by helping to shorten the distance between us." the fugitive now headed directly away from the horsemen, so that both parties were pursuing the same line. the youth looked back, at the moment that several blue puffs of smoke showed over the backs of the horses. the thudding reports came through the chilly air, and a peculiar whistling sound overhead left no doubt that the hostiles, great as was the separating space, had fired at the fugitive, who turned to take a look at wolf ear. that individual discharged his gun the next moment. brinton heard nothing of the bullet, but smiled grimly-- "he has changed his mind soon, but they have got to come closer before they hurt me. he is no great marksman anyway, or he would not have missed me a little while ago." it was singular that it did not occur to young kingsland that it was possible the ogalalla had not fired at him at all. not even when the horsemen checked their pursuit, and reining up their animals awaited the coming of the buck, who was riding like a hurricane, could he bring himself to think of wolf ear except as a bitter enemy, who for some subtle purpose of his own had declared a temporary truce. "i suppose they think i shall be along this way again pretty soon, and they can afford to wait till i run into their trap," was the conclusion of brinton, who headed his pony once more toward his home, and put him to his best paces. "come, jack, there's no time to throw away; hard work is before you, and you must struggle as never before." the snowfall which seemed for ever impending did not come. the few scattering flakes still circled and eddied through the air, as if reluctant to touch the earth, but no perceptible increase appeared in their number. the nipping air seemed to have become too cold to permit a snow-storm. brinton had set out fully prepared for such change of temperature. he wore a thick woollen cap, whose flaps were drawn down to his ears, while they were more than met by the heavy coat collar that was turned up, the garment itself being closely buttoned around his body. his rifle rested across the pommel of his saddle in front, and his gloved hands scarcely ever touched the rein which lay loose on his pony's neck. he was a capital horseman, and, with the understanding between him and his intelligent beast, could have got along without any bit at all. strapped behind him was a substantial lunch, and his keen appetite would have made it enjoyable, but he did not disturb it. it could wait until he learned the truth about the folk at home, which he was now rapidly drawing near. over a swell in the prairie, across a small creek, whose icy waters hardly came above jack's fetlocks, up a second rise, and then brinton kingsland uttered an exclamation of amazement and sharply checked his animal. "my gracious! what is the meaning of that?" over another swell, and only a few hundred yards away, two other horses rode to view, coming directly toward him. each sustained a heavily muffled figure, and they were moving at a rapid walk. suspecting their identity, he waited a minute, and then started his horse forward again. a few paces, and despite the arctic temperature, he raised his cap from his head and called out-- "hurrah! thank heaven, you are alive, and have started for the agency." his father sat on one horse, swathed in heavy clothing, and a blanket which the faithful wife had fastened around his emaciated and weak form, while she, with edith in front, and both also protected against the severe weather, were on the other animal. he had a rifle across his saddle front, like the son, and they had brought with them nothing but a small amount of food, barely enough to last them until they could reach the agency, provided there was no unexpected delay on the road. the discovery that they were alive and secure for the time, though the shadow of a great peril was over all, so delighted the son that he could not repress the shout of joy, as he rode forward and greeted them, little more than their eyes and noses showing through the thick coverings. "what made you leave before i got back?" was the first inquiry of brinton, after a few congratulatory words. "we concluded it was high time to do so," replied the father, showing more vigour in his voice than the son expected. "how did you find it out?" "a half-dozen hostiles fired several times at the house, and then, as if they feared they were not strong enough to capture us and burn the cabin, rode off for help." "they are hardly out of sight now; they gave me half a dozen shots, and i had a short chase with them. but you are off the trail." "and so are you," said his father. "which is a mighty good thing for us both. you had to abandon everything?" "of course; i have no doubt though," added the father grimly, "that the indians will look after the live stock for us." "whom do you suppose i saw?" asked brinton, turning to his mother and sister. "a big bear?" ventured edith from the depths of her wrappings. "no; he was an old friend of yours--wolf ear, who used to come to our house and have such good times with you." the excited child flung her arms about in the effort to free herself of the encumbering wrappings. "oh, where is he? why didn't he come with you? didn't he want to see me? i am so sorry; isn't he with you?" and she peered around, as if she suspected the young ogalalla was hiding behind the saddle of her brother. brinton smiled, and then gravely shook his head. he said, addressing his parents more than the little one-- "i was never more astonished than to find that wolf ear, despite the training he has had at carlisle, has joined the hostiles, and is now an enemy of those who were such good friends of his." the youth did not think it wise to tell, in the presence of his sister, the particulars of their first meeting. "you grieve me more than i can express," replied the father; "are you sure you are not mistaken?" "not when he told me so himself." "but you must have met as friends." "he said he would not harm any one of us, if the fortunes of war should give him the chance; but he declares himself the enemy of all others of our race. he has a twin brother, and he and his father and mother, as wolf ear coolly told me, would be pleased to scalp us. i have no more faith in _him_ than in _them_. we parted as friends, but he has joined that very party which fired on you, and will go back to the house with them." "and finding us gone, what then?" "he will lead them on our trail and be among the foremost to shoot us down, every one of us." "i don't believe it!" called edith from her wraps, which her mother had put around her again; "i like wolf ear and want to see him." brinton did not think it worth while to discuss the matter with his sister, for a far more important matter pressed upon them. "it won't do to follow the trail," remarked the father, "since they will be on the look-out for us. we will bear to the south, so as to strike the cheyenne further up stream." "we may not be able to ford it." "we can follow it down till we find a place. it may be frozen over nearer its source. the agency is so far off that we shall have to go into camp before we can get half-way there." "how do you feel, father?" abruptly asked his son, glancing keenly at him. "are you strong enough to stand this hard ride?" "i am much stronger than you would suppose; you know a crisis like this will rouse any man, even if he is a good deal more unwell than i am." "i am glad to hear you talk that way, but you will be tried hard before we reach pine ridge." "give yourself no uneasiness about me; the only thing we are to think about is how we shall get to the agency without meeting with the hostiles, who seem to be roaming everywhere." while they sat talking, at the base of the swell, on the summit of which the parents had first appeared, all partook of lunch, for it was not likely they would have a more favourable opportunity before the coming of night. it was decided to bear still more to the south, with a view of avoiding the party that was at no great distance. indeed, less than half an hour had passed since they vanished from the view of the youth, who believed they were waiting in the vicinity of the trail for his return, and would attack the whites the moment they discovered them. the halt lasted little more than a quarter of an hour, when they resumed their journey toward the agency, which they hoped, rather than expected, to reach by the morrow's set of sun. the mother was without any weapon, though she was quite skilful in the use of a rifle. her husband said that if he found himself compelled to yield to weakness, he would turn over his winchester to her, believing as he did that she was sure to give a good account of herself. they were plentifully supplied with cartridges, but the reader does not need to be reminded of their almost helpless situation. kingsland, despite his brave efforts to keep up, was unable to ride his pony at full speed for any length of time, while the wife, burdened with the care of edith, could not expect to do much better. if the company were attacked by any party of hostiles, however slight in numbers, deplorable consequences were almost certain. their hope would be in finding some sort of shelter which might be turned to account as a screen or barricade. but their only safety, it may be said, lay in avoiding the indians altogether, and it was to that task that brinton, as the strongest one of the party, addressed himself with all the energy and skill of his nature. the course was up and down continually, though none of the swells in the prairie was of much height. the youth rode slightly in advance and never made his way to the top of one of the slight elevations without a quicker throbbing of the heart and a misgiving which made the situation of the most trying nature. it was the dread of the hostiles, with whom wolf ear had joined himself, that led him to make a longer bend to the south than even his father had contemplated. true, as he well knew, they were not the sole indians to be dreaded, but they were the only ones of whom he had positive knowledge. others were likely to be encountered at any time, and it may be said that as they drew nearer the agency, the peril increased. a half-dozen miles from where the family had been reunited, they approached a higher elevation than any that had yet been crossed. brinton asked the rest to halt at the base, while he dismounted and carefully went to the top on foot. it was well he took this precaution, for his friends, who were watching his crouching figure as he cautiously went up the incline, saw him abruptly halt and peer over the ridge, in a way which showed he had perceived something. he remained but a minute, when he hurried back, pale and excited. "there are fifty hostiles!" he exclaimed in an undertone, "and they are only a little way off!" chapter iv. "we abe enemies." brinton kingsland, after peering over the crest of the elevation for a few brief moments, turned and hastily descended to where his pony awaited him. without touching his bridle, he spoke, and the obedient animal followed him, while the parents and little sister anxiously listened to the report of what he learned. "it's the very party of indians that we have been trying to get away from," added the youth to his first explanation; "there are seven of them, and wolf ear is among them." "is he?" eagerly asked edith, from her wrappings on the saddle in front of her mother "oh, let me see him! tell him i am here." "keep quiet! don't speak," said her father sternly. "wolf ear is with bad indians, and is a bad indian himself" the child would have protested, but for the manner of her father. he could be firm when he chose, and she knew better than to disobey him but she pouted just a little, as she nestled down by her mother, who shared to some extent her faith in the ogalalla who had spent so many hours under their roof. "what are they doing?" asked mr. kingsland of his son. "they act queerly; the party are drawn up together, and looking off in the direction of the trail to the agency, over which they expect us to pass." "they are on the watch for us, of course; how far away do you judge the trail to be?" "several miles; it seems odd to me that they should ride so far south, instead of staying nearer to it." "it is plain enough to me; they fear that if we caught sight of them, as we should be sure to do, we would hurry back to the house, where they should have less chance against us. by keeping hidden, so that we could not discover our danger until too far away from home, they could ride in behind us and cut off our escape in that direction. but how are we to escape them?" "we passed an arroya a little way back: let us take to that, and there isn't a minute to lose." the youth hastily climbed into the saddle, and turned the nose of jack about, so that he went back directly over his own hoof-prints. a little distance, and they struck a narrow valley-like depression, which wound further to the south than the course they were pursuing at the moment of the startling interruption. he entered this at once, the others directly at his heels, the animals walking fast, but with a silence that made one suspect they understood the danger that threatened all. the arroya, as it is termed in some parts of the country, was a straight passage, resembling a gully, between banks a dozen feet in height. it looked as if it had been washed out years before, by some violent rush of waters, which soon ran itself dry, leaving the abrupt banks, facing each other, at varying distances of from ten to fifty feet. in some places these banks of clay were perpendicular, so that a horse, once within the gorge, could not leave it at many points, while in others, the dirt had tumbled in to an extent which made it easy for him to climb out. the course of the arroya was devious, and there was no saying when it would terminate by rising to the level of the prairie. at most, it could be but a temporary refuge for the fugitives. the thought occurred to both father and son that the indians must soon discover this refuge, which would be welcome to them and their animals while the piercing blast was sweeping across the prairie. the eddying snow had almost ceased, but the wind blew fitfully, and whenever it touched the face or bare hand, it was like a needle of ice. the american indian is one of the toughest of creatures, but he does not disdain shelter for himself and beast from the merciless blizzard, or driving tempest. many of those gathered about pine ridge, during the critical days in ' -' , found protection in the pockets of earth in the gullies, where they peered out like wild animals on the alert for a chance to spring at the blue-coated sentinel, without risk to themselves. if the arroya should hold its general course southward for several miles, the little party might successfully escape the hostiles, who intruded between them and the agency. the afternoon was wearing away, and the night would be moonless and starless. our friends hoped, if they escaped until then, to lessen greatly the distance between them and pine ridge. a quarter or a third of a mile through the winding gully, and brinton drew rein, and waited until his parents rode up beside him. "i wonder what has become of them?" was his inquiring remark. "what does it matter," asked his mother in turn, "so long as we cannot see them? we must be a good way from them now." "i wish i could think so, but i can't feel easy while riding in this blind fashion. there may be greater danger in front than we have left behind." "what do you propose to do?" asked the father. "take a look round and learn, if i can, how things are going." without explaining further, the youth swung himself down once more from the saddle, and hurried to the edge of the arroya on his left. there was a spot so sloping that after a little work, with the dirt crumbling under his feet, he reached the level above, and was able to peer over a great deal of the surrounding prairie without exposing himself. the result ought to have been gratifying, but it was hardly that. north, south, east, and west the youth bent his keen vision, but not a sign of the dreaded hostiles was to be seen. they were as invisible as though they had never been. had the distance travelled by the fugitives since their fright been twice or thrice as great, this must have been the best of omens, but the space was not far, and it was almost self-evident that the band was still in the neighbourhood. but where? that was the question on the lips of father and son as they discussed the situation, and in the minds of both trembled the same answer: the hostiles were in the arroya itself, behind the fugitives. "they have ridden down the bank," said the parent, "to shelter their ponies from the icy blast, and are there now." "will they suspect that we have been this way?" inquired the mother. "they cannot fail to notice the hoof-prints we have left," replied her husband, "and that will tell the story as plainly as if they sat on the bank as we rode by." the alarming declaration caused the wife to cast a terrified glance behind her, as if she expected to see the ferocious redskins burst into view with crack of rifle and ear-splitting shriek. in the circumstances, there was manifestly but one thing to do--push on with no more delay than was inevitable. the ground at the bottom of the arroya was comparatively level, and the horses dropped into an easy swinging gallop, which lasted but a few minutes, when mr. kingsland called in a faint voice, as he brought his animal down to a walk-- "hold on, brinton!" "what is the matter?" asked the son, looking at him in dismay. "i can't stand it; i am not as strong as i thought." he reeled in his saddle, and the startled son reached out to prevent his falling. "forgive me, father; i forgot your illness." "there--there--i am all right," he murmured, putting his hand to his face, in the effort to master his weakness. his wife was also at his side, anxious and alarmed. "hugh, i fear you have undertaken more than you can do," she said, laying her hand affectionately on his arm, and peering into as much of his face as was visible through the thick wrappings. he made no reply, and it was plain that he was nearly fainting. there was nothing his friends could do for him, except to help him out of the saddle, and they were about to propose that, when a slight but alarming accident took place. the winchester, resting across the saddle-bow and hitherto grasped in the mittened hands of the man, slipped from his relaxed fingers and fell to the earth. the lock struck in such a way that a chamber was discharged, the bullet burying itself in the bank which brinton had climbed only a few minutes before. the sharp explosion roused edith, who was sinking into a doze, and imparted to the man himself such a shock that his growing faintness gave instant place to renewed strength. he straightened up and said-- "gracious! that's too bad; _they_ must have heard it." "we can't tell about that; are you stronger?" "yes; let's push on; we must lose no time." brinton longed to force the animals into a gallop, but dared not, after what had just taken place. but they were pushed to a rapid walk, which was kept up some ten or fifteen minutes, when came another sudden halt, for the good reason that they had reached the end of the arroya. that singular formation, after winding about for a long distance, rose to the level of the prairie, and disappeared. to proceed further must be done by exposure to any hostiles in the neighbourhood. brinton stopped and looked inquiringly at his father. "as near as i can judge," said the latter, "we are close to the big cheyenne; we ought to cross that early this evening and keep on to the white, which should be reached by daylight; then the ride is not far to pine ridge." "night is near; we will wait awhile; the rest will do you good, and i will take a look over our own trail." leaving his friends to themselves, brinton headed back and struck jack into a moderate gallop through the arroya. he was uneasy over that accident with his father's winchester. if heard by the keen-eared hostiles they would start an investigation, which could have but one result. "they must have heard it," was his belief, "and if so, they knew where it came from. it won't take them long to learn its meaning--halloa! what's the matter, jack?" more than once, the sagacity of his animal had warned the youth of the approach of danger. the pony dropped into a walk so quickly that the rider was thrown slightly forward in the saddle. then the animal pricked up his ears, took a few more stops and halted. "that means something," thought brinton, bringing his rifle round to the front and making ready to use it on the instant if needed. he softly drew the mitten from his right hand. the gully turned sharply to the left, just ahead, and he knew that jack had scented danger. but, if so, minute after minute passed and it did not appear. the youth became perplexed, and was in sore doubt whether to push on a little further or turn back. he gently twitched the rein and touched his heels against the ribs of his pony. he advanced a couple of paces, and stopped as abruptly as before, his head still up, his ears erect, while the snuffing nostrils showed that he was wiser than his rider. "i'll be hanged if i don't learn the meaning of this," muttered brinton kingsland, who, with less discretion than he generally showed, swung himself out of the saddle and moved stealthily forward, with the resolution to learn the cause of jack's alarm. and he learned it soon enough. he had barely time to pass part way round the curve in the arroya, which was unusually winding at that portion, when he came face to face with an indian horseman. the animal of the latter, quite as sagacious as jack's, had detected the presence of a stranger beyond the turn, and halted until the latter revealed himself, or his master decided upon the line to pursue. brinton's great blunder was in moving so impatiently through the gully that he was revealed too soon to draw back. thus it was that it may be said he almost precipitated himself upon the buck before he saw him. it would be hard to describe brinton's emotions when on the first startled glance at the solitary indian he recognised him as wolf ear, whom he had encountered but a little while before. the indian looked fixedly at him, and something like a smile lit up his broad coppery face. "thus we meet, brinton," he said in his low voice; "will you come forward and shake hands?" "why should i shake hands?" asked the youth, thoroughly distrustful of the ogalalla; "we are enemies." "that is for you to decide," was the cool remark of the indian youth. he made as if to ride away, when brinton interposed. "your actions do not agree with your words." "and why not?" "after parting from me, you rode away and joined my enemies." to the amazement of the youth, the young ogalalla without a word wheeled about and galloped out of sight up the arroya. chapter v. "what will be their next step?" brinton kingsland was in the saddle again on the instant, and his pony dashed down the arroya at full speed. "wolf ear has hurried back to tell the rest that he has seen us, and they will be here in a few minutes," was the belief that lent wings to his speed. it was a comparatively short ride to where his friends awaited him. a minute sufficed for them to learn the alarming tidings. "it won't do to delay another second; come on!" the next moment the two horses followed the youth out of the gully upon the plain. "can you stand it, father?" he asked, holding his pony back and looking inquiringly at him. "yes, my son; don't think of me," was the brave response, as the parent struck his animal into a gallop. the mother was a capital horsewoman, and little edith, who was now fully awake, once more accommodated herself to her position, so as to save all embarrassment so far as she was concerned. child-like, she wanted to ask innumerable questions, but she was intelligent enough to understand that silence was expected of her, and she held her peace, wondering, perplexed, and frightened. the wintry afternoon was wearing to a close. the sky maintained its heavy leaden hue, the wind blew fitfully and was of piercing keenness, and the occasional snow-flakes, whirling about the heads of the fugitives, were more like hailstones than the soft downy particles which had appeared earlier in the afternoon. the view was shortened in the gathering gloom, and the anxious eyes glancing around the different points of the compass, and especially to the rear, failed to reveal the dreaded horsemen from whom they were fleeing. the hope of the little party lay in keeping beyond sight of their enemies until night. with no moon and stars to guide them, the hostiles could not keep their trail, which our friends were sure to make as winding as possible. as the night approached, their hopes increased. darkness was closing in when they reached the bank of the big cheyenne, and, for the first time since leaving the arroya, they drew rein. "this is better than i dared expect," said the father in high spirits, and seemingly strengthened by his sharp ride through the cutting cold; "i can hardly understand it." "i suspect that wolf ear made a blunder." "in what way?" "he did not think we should leave the gully before night; he went back and told the rest. they dared not attack us where we had some show to defend ourselves; they will not discover our flight until it is too late." while there seemed reason in this belief, it did not fully satisfy the father. it was not in keeping with the subtlety of the american indian that they should allow a party of whites to ride directly away from them, when they were at their mercy. any one of the hostiles, by climbing the side of the arroya, was sure to see the little company of fugitives emerge therefrom, and it was inconceivable that they should not take that simple precaution. "there is something beyond all this which has not yet appeared," he said; "neither wolf ear nor his companions are fools." the river swept by in the gathering darkness at their feet. the current was not swift, but pieces of ice lay against the shores, and floated past in the middle of the stream. the opposite bank could hardly be seen in the gloom. "must we cross that?" asked mrs. kingsland, as the horses halted on the margin of the icy waters. "yes," replied her husband, "and twenty miles further we must cross the white, to say nothing of smaller streams, which may be as deep and more difficult. pine ridge lies fifty miles away, and there's no going round any of the water." "it will be the death of us to swim our horses," she said with a shudder; "we shall freeze to death." "that is not to be thought of," brinton hastened to explain; "while the cheyenne has many deep places at this season, there are others where a horse can wade across without wetting one's stirrups." "but how are we to know such fords?" "by trying, and there's no better place than this; wait till i make the attempt." with commendable promptness he urged jack forward, and the animal, understanding what was required of him, stepped among the pieces of ice along the bank. he slipped on one, and edith uttered a cry of alarm. "look out, brint! you will fall into the water." "don't fret about me," he called back. a few reassuring words to his pony, who hesitated and sniffed, as if about to draw back, and he continued his cautious advance into the stream, the others anxiously watching his progress. should the water prove deep enough to force the steed to swim, it would never do, for that would necessitate the saturation of the garments of all, which meant freezing to death. as long as the ponies maintained a sure footing, even though the water crept well up their sides, the riders could guard themselves against the dreaded wetting. brinton, therefore, ventured into the stream with the utmost care, his animal feeling every step of the way. ten steps from the bank, and the water touched brinton's stirrups. he withdrew his feet and held them out of reach. he was so excellent a horseman that, by the pressure of his knees, he sat almost as firmly in the saddle as if with the support for his feet. "be careful, jack; slowly--slowly--slowly!" jack was sniffing, with his neck outstretched and his nose almost on the surface of the water, the breath issued like steam through his thin silken nostrils, and he paid no heed to a triangular piece of jagged ice which struck his hind legs with a sharp thrust, and then swung clear. he knew his duty, and was doing his "level best." the rider turned his head and looked back. the forms of his parents on their motionless horses were dim, and growing more indistinct in the approaching night. seeing him turn his head, his father called something in a guarded undertone, which the son did not catch, but, believing it was simply a request for him to be careful, he replied, "all right," and went on with the work in hand. several steps further and the water had not perceptibly deepened. brinton, indeed, was inclined to think it had slightly shallowed. "we are pretty near the middle, and it begins to look as if i had struck the right spot after all halloa! what's up now?" jack had stopped, just as he did in the arroya, and with the same appearance of alarm. "can it be that you have scented a deep place in front and want to save me from a bath?" brinton kingsland checked the light question on his lips, for at the moment of uttering it his own vision answered the query in a manner that fairly lifted his cap from his head. a horseman was advancing through the water from the other side of the cheyenne. he was several rods away, but near enough for the youth to recognise him as an indian warrior. he had entered the icy stream, as if to meet the other, who in the same glance that identified him dimly discerned more horsemen on the bank beyond. as in the former instance, jack had discovered the peril before his master and halted, not through fear of a chilling bath, but because of a tenfold greater danger stealing upon them. it looked as if the hostiles, from whom they were fleeing, had come towards the river from beyond, and were again between them and safety. if so, the question might well be asked what was meant by this extraordinary behaviour of the red men? why did they not conceal themselves until the fugitives rode directly into their arms? why take this risk of sending one of their number to meet an enemy in mid-stream, where, despite whatever advantage the savage possessed, he could not help yielding a portion of it to his foe? but it was a moment for action and not for conjecture and speculation. in the same moment that brinton recognised the horseman immediately in his front as a foe, he observed that his pony had also halted and the rider was in the act of bringing his weapon to his shoulder. the mitten was snatched from the youth's right hand and thrust in the pocket of his coat. he had no time to slip the other off, nor was it necessary, since that only supported the rifle. he hastily brought his winchester to a level, and, knowing that everything depended upon who was the quicker, he took instant aim at the centre of the dark figure and let fly. with a wild cry the indian rolled from his pony, and disappeared in the dark waters. his animal, with a snort of alarm, whirled about and dashed to shore, sending the spray flying in all directions. "quick, jack! back with you!" brinton flung himself on the neck of his pony, who seemed to spin about on his hind feet as he galloped furiously through the water for the shore he had just left. nothing but this precaution and the deepening gloom saved the daring youth from death. it required a few precious seconds for the hostiles on the other bank to comprehend what had taken place, and when they began firing the form of the horse and his rider were fast vanishing from sight. but the bullets were whistling perilously near his friends, who did not quite comprehend what had taken place. "move further down the bank!" called brinton in a guarded undertone; "quick! don't stop to ask why, but do as i say!" the parents obeyed, and a minute or two was sufficient to take them out of range. "follow them, jack, and move lively!" the pony obeyed, and he too passed beyond danger for the time. the darkness was too deep for the persons on either bank to discern the others across the stream. the hostiles kept up their firing, in a blind way, hoping that some of their shots might reach the fugitives. brinton had lain down on the shore, so as to decrease the danger of being struck by any of the stray bullets. he could tell where the others were by the flash of their guns, but deemed it best not to fire for the present, through fear of betraying his own position. the dropping shots continued for a few minutes, and then suddenly stopped. it was impossible to tell in the gloom what his enemies were doing, but he suspected the truth: they were preparing to ford the river, with a view of bringing the combatants to close quarters. peering intently into the night, he made out the faint outline of a horseman feeling his way across, and did not doubt that others were close behind him. this must be a particularly favourable ford, else the hostiles would try some other, if they knew of any in the immediate vicinity. it was necessary to check this advance, if he expected to save the dear ones with him. the moment, therefore, he made sure of the object approaching, he sighted as best he could and blazed away, instantly shifting his own position, to escape the return shot which he knew would be quick in coming. it was well he did so, for the flash and report of several rifles and the whistling of the bullets told of the peril escaped by a very narrow chance. there was no reason to believe that his own shot had been fatal, for there was no outcry, nor did the listening ear detect any splash in the water, such as marked his first essays when in mid-stream; but he had accomplished that which he sought--he had checked the advance, which otherwise must have been fatal to him and his companions. the form of the horseman disappeared in the gloom. he had returned to the shore whence he came, and it was safe to conclude that he would not soon repeat the attempt. "what will be their next step?" was the question that presented itself to the young defender of the ford. it was not to be expected that they would try to cross in the face of the certain reception that awaited them. "they know more of the cheyenne than we do," brinton kingsland thought, "and must be aware of some place where they can reach this side without danger. if they do succeed in coming over, there will be trouble." he dared not wait long, for nothing was to be gained, while he ran the risk of losing everything. only the sound of the rushing water, the crunching of the ice, reached his ear. rising to his feet and peering into the gloom, he could discern nothing of his foes. "there's no need of my staying here," he decided, starting along the stream in quest of his parents. when he had passed a hundred yards without seeing them, he was astonished. another hundred, and still they were invisible, and the cautious signals he made remained unanswered. chapter vi. "ay, where were they?" by the unaccountable disappearance of his parents and the horses, brinton was left in a state rather of perplexity than alarm. the time was so brief since they left him, that he could not understand how they had gone far, nor why they did not answer the guarded calls he made. he noticed that when in obedience to his urgent entreaties the couple rode away, followed by his own pony, they went down stream, that is, in the direction of the current. surely they could not have passed any distance, and he believed they heard his voice when, making a funnel with his mittened hands, he pronounced the words-- "father! mother! where are you?" if they did not reply, it was because of the danger involved in doing so. it was incautious on his part to shout, even in a suppressed voice, at such a time. the bank on his left was a little higher than his head, and so sloping that the horses could climb out with little effort; but, as will be recalled, the night was unusually dark, and he might pass over the plainest trail without knowing it. he ran some distance further, keeping close to the water, but still failed to find them. "they have climbed out of the bed of the stream; something unexpected has occurred, or they would not leave me in this manner." he felt his way to the bank, and easily placed himself upon the level ground above. there he strove to pierce the gloom, but nothing rewarded the effort. "well, i'll be hanged!" he muttered, "if this isn't the greatest surprise i ever knew. it looks as if the ground had opened and swallowed them." in the northern sky the heavy gloom was relieved by a faint glow, which at first he took for the aurora borealis, but a few minutes' scrutiny convinced him that it was the light of some burning building, the dwelling evidently of some ranchman, whose family had probably paid with their lives the penalty of tarrying too long. "a few hours more, and father, mother, and edith would have shared the same fate. it may still be theirs to do so." the sound of a whinny from behind caused him to turn his head. he could see nothing, but he was sure that it was one of his father's ponies that thus made known his presence. it would have been the height of imprudence, however, had he acted upon such a belief, after what had so recently occurred, and when a safe and certain test was at his command. he emitted a low tremulous whistle of such a musical tone that it reached a goodly distance in spite of the gale. "that can be heard further than the neigh, and, if it finds the ear of jack, no one can restrain him from coming to me." but though the call was repeated there was no response. the alarming conclusion was unavoidable: the sound had been made by an indian pony near at hand. aware that his own situation, despite the darkness, was perilous, the youth sat down on the frosty earth, near the edge of the bank, until he could gain some idea of his bearings. within the next ten seconds the whinny was repeated, and this time seemingly within a dozen feet, but below the bank, and consequently between him and the water. he knew what it meant: the hostiles had crossed the stream lower down, and were ascending it in the search for the fugitives. but for the fact that one of their ponies showed a strange lack of training, the youth would have run right into them. it might be that the reckless horse was a captured one! they were so close, however, that brinton did not dare to flee, especially as he did not know in which direction safety lay. he lay flat on the earth, with his head just above the edge of the bank, so that had there been any light he could have seen what was going on below. it is rare that a night is totally devoid of the least ray of illumination. brinton, therefore, could never believe he was mistaken when, peering down into the gloom, he fancied he discerned the shadowy outlines of a horseman move slowly in front of him, like the figure of the magic lantern. it melted in the gloom, and then came another and another, until he counted six. the sounds of the hoofs on the hard ground removed the doubt which otherwise he might have felt. "the same party," was his thought; "one is missing, and, if i am not mistaken, i had something to do with his disappearance." a different noise came to his ears. one of the bucks was making his pony climb the bank where the slope was abrupt. the labour was hard, but after a strenuous effort he stood on the earth above. he was followed by the others in indian file, the ascent taking but a few minutes. the disturbing feature about this business was that the whole party had climbed the bank within a dozen feet of where brinton was lying, and they halted when so near that he was half afraid some of the horses might step on him. had there been any light in the sky he would have felt they were trifling with him, as a cat plays with a mouse. but, if the hostiles could not see or detect his presence, their horses were sure to discover that a stranger was near. "it's too bad!" thought brinton, who, believing that his own people were safe, was able to give more thought to himself; "it looks as if there's no getting rid of them. i think this is a good time for me to leave." for a single moment he was certain he was discovered. one of the warriors uttered an exclamation, and a slight sound showed that he had dropped from his horse to the ground. the youth was on the point of rolling over the edge of the bank and taking to his heels, in the hope that the darkness would allow him to escape, when, to his dismay, a tiny point of light flashed out of the gloom. one of the hostiles had dismounted to light a cigarette, placing himself so that his horse's body kept off the wind. brinton's position gave him a good view of the operation. the savage drew the match along a portion of his blanket. the youth saw the slight streak of light and heard the tiny sharp explosion followed by the bursting into flame. the buck shielded it with his curving hands, which were raised to meet the stooping head, as it bent forward with the cigarette between the lips. the glare of the diminutive flame gave a peculiar tint to the fingers, which caused them to glow as if with heat. then the reflection showed the arched nose, the broad face, the serpent-like eyes, and a few straggling hairs on the upper lip, with a glimpse of the dangling locks, thrown forward by the stoop of the head. the glimpse was momentary, but it was clear enough for brinton to recognise the young indian as wolf ear, who he knew was fond of cigarette smoking, that being one of the habits he had acquired among civilised folk. "i am sorry it wasn't _you_ i shot from his horse in mid-stream," was the resentful reflection of him who had once been a devoted friend of the ogalalla. the cigarette being lighted, the buck vaulted upon the back of his pony, where he could be seen by the fiery tip in the dense darkness. brinton wondered why the group of horsemen remained where they were, instead of riding away. that, like many other actions of theirs, was incomprehensible to him. but while he lay flat on the ground, debating what he should next do, if indeed he could do anything, he was frightened by the discovery that gradually but surely the figures of the indians and their ponies were coming into view. the explanation was that the sky, which had been overcast all day and a portion of the night, was slightly clearing--not to any extent, but enough to increase the peril of his own situation to an alarming extent. "it won't do to stay here any longer; i wonder why they have not discovered me before; they will do it in five minutes, if i remain." his position was an awkward one for the movement necessary, but he had no choice, and he began stealthily working himself to the edge of the bank, with the purpose of letting himself noiselessly over to where he would be concealed from sight. all might have gone well had he not forgotten a simple thing. the edge of the bank gave under his weight, and he slid downwards, as if taking a plunge into the river, with the dirt rattling after him. the noise, slight as it was, was certain to attract the notice of the indians, a few feet away. brinton knew this, and he did not wait to see the results. with the nimbleness of a cat, he turned at the moment of striking the bottom of the low cliff, and bounding to his feet, ran along below the bank at his utmost speed. had he continued his flight, quick disaster must have followed; but with a thoughtfulness and self-possession hardly to be expected, he abruptly stopped after running a hundred feet and again threw himself on his face, at the bottom of the bank, and as close to its base as it was possible for him to lie. he knew that he could reach this point before the hostiles would comprehend what had taken place, and consequently before they would attempt to pursue him. since he had no chance against their fleet ponies, he would have been speedily run down had he continued his flight down the river bed, for he heard the sound of their hoofs as they dashed after him. the pursuers were cunning. their ears had told them the course he had taken. several forced their animals down the bank, to prevent his turning back over his own trail, while the others galloped close to the edge above, all the party taking the same direction. thus it would seem that but one desperate hope remained to him, which was to dash into the river and struggle to the other side. but the splash would betray him. the water was probably deep enough to force him to swim. with the thermometer below zero, and encumbered by his clothing, he must perish with cold, if he did not drown. where then was the hope of eluding the hostiles, who were clinging so persistently to his track? there was none excepting in the trick to which he had resorted, and brinton knew it. he was no more than fairly nestled in his hiding-place, when the clatter of hoofs showed that one of the horsemen was almost upon him. he could only hug the base of the bank, and pray for the danger to pass. it did pass, but it was sure speedily to return. it was this belief which led the youth to resort to another artifice, that would have done credit to an experienced ranger of the plains. instead of turning about and running upstream under the bank, he waited until the horsemen above had also passed, and were invisible in the gloom. then he hastily clambered up the slight bluff, rattling down the dirt again in a way that sent a shiver through him. had they been as near as before, they must have certainly discovered him; but if the noise or the crumbling dirt reached the ears of any, they supposed it was caused by some of their companions, for no effort at investigation was made. upon solid ground once more, brinton sped straight out over the plain, and directly away from the river, until he dared to pause, look around and listen. he saw and heard nothing to renew his fear. "can it be that i have shaken them off at last?" he asked himself; "it begins to look like it. where under heaven can the folk be? i hope they have pushed toward the agency, and nothing will happen to them." now it was that he detected something, so faint and indistinct that at first he could not identify it; but, while he wondered and listened, it resolved itself into the sounds of a horse's hoofs. they were not such as are made by an animal galloping or trotting, but by walking. furthermore, he heard but the one series of footfalls. a sudden impulse led brinton to repeat the whistle which he had vainly emitted some time before, when groping along the bank of the big cheyenne. instantly a faint neigh answered, and a pony assumed shape in the darkness as he approached on a joyous trot. "my own jack!" exclaimed the overjoyed youth, flinging his arms about the neck of his favourite and kissing his silken nose; "heaven be thanked that you are restored to me at last. but where are the folk?" ay, where were they? chapter vii. "it came like one of them kansan cyclones." as he was on the point of giving up all hope of ever seeing him again, brinton kingsland was naturally overjoyed at meeting his favourite pony. the situation of the young man would have proved a sad one, had he been compelled to wander over the prairie on foot, for he would have been liable to encounter hostiles at any moment. with the coming of daylight, he could hardly expect to avoid detection by some of the numerous bands galloping hither and thither, ready to pounce upon any defenceless settlers, or to cut off the squads of scouts and soldiers whenever there was a chance of doing so with little peril to themselves. and jack showed as much delight as his master. he thrust his nose forward, and whinnied softly in response to the endearments of brinton. doubtless he had been searching for him for some time. "i tell you, old boy, there are only three persons whom i would rather see just now than you; i won't mention their names, for you know them as well as i do. where are they? surely they can't be far off." an examination of the horse disclosed that his saddle and bridle were intact, thus proving that he had not been in the hands of any enemies, who indeed would not have allowed him to stray off in this fashion. brinton placed his foot in the stirrup, and swung himself astride of the intelligent beast, who capered with pleasure at feeling his master once more in the saddle. now that such good fortune had come to the youth, he grew anxious about the dear ones from whom he had been so strangely separated. there was something in the way in which they had drifted apart that perplexed him. the interval in which it occurred was so brief that he could not believe they were far asunder. the arrival of jack strengthened this belief, and now that he was in the saddle again, he peered around in the gloom, half expecting their forms to take shape and come forward to greet him. the partial clearing of the sky continued. no snow-flakes drifted against him, but the moaning wind was as biting and frigid as ever. the straining gaze, however, could see nothing of horse or person, though he clung to the belief that they were not far away. but with that conviction came the other of the nearness of the dreaded red men. he had left them on the bank of the big cheyenne, which was not distant; and, failing to find him there, it was natural for them to suspect the trick by which he had escaped. but nothing was to be done by sitting motionless on his horse. he ventured to pronounce the name of his father, and then his mother, increasing the loudness of the tone to an imprudent degree. this was done repeatedly, but no answering call was borne back to him. sound could not travel far against the wind on such a blustery night, and they might be within a hundred yards without his being able to hear them or they to hear him. he had absolutely no guide or clue, and despair began to creep into his heart. he asked himself what the result was to be if the aimless wandering should continue through the night. with the rise of the sun, pine ridge would be still a good day's ride away, and it was too much to hope that they would be permitted to gallop unchallenged through the reservation. "jack," said he, addressing his pony in the odd familiar way to which he was accustomed, "i can do nothing; you will have to help us out. so now show what you can do." whether the sagacious animal understood what was asked of him can only be conjectured, but he acted as if he did. he threw up his head, sniffed the air, pricked his ears, and started off at an easy swinging gallop. brinton's heart rose with hope. "he must know where he came from; a horse can teach the best hunter at such a time, and jack understands what he is doing." the pony cantered but a comparatively short way, when he dropped to a rapid walk, which grew slower every moment. it was interesting to see him turn his head and look from side to side, for all the world as if searching for something which he was surprised he did not find. "you must be near the spot," said his master; "don't make any mistake now, my boy." he came to a standstill, still turning his head from side to side, as if examining every point in sight. there could be no doubt that he was disappointed, as naturally was his rider also. "i know this is the spot where you left them to join me, but they are gone. i can do nothing: everything depends on you, jack, and you must not fail me." he resumed his deliberate walk, which was continued for only a short distance. when he halted finally, his actions said as plainly as words-- "i give it up! i've done my best, and, like you, am at my wits' end." for a second time brinton pronounced the names of the loved ones, and while doing so, jack took three or four additional steps, then halted, threw up his head, snorted, and trembled. these signs were unmistakable: he had discovered something. his master urged him forward. he obeyed to the extent of a couple of steps, and then refused to go further. not only that, but he shied to the left, and trembled more than before. brinton soothed him, and then leaned over the saddle and looked into the gloom; and, as he did so, he almost fell from his seat, because of the shock and faintness from what he saw. the first glance told him that _something_ was stretched on the frozen earth but a short distance away. further scrutiny revealed that it was a man, lying motionless at full length. "it is father!" was the thought of the son, who was out of the saddle in a twinkling, and running forward. it was not the body of hugh kingsland, but of a stranger. he had been a powerful man, who had made a brave fight, and had only yielded to superior numbers. brinton did not attempt any examination in the darkness, for there was no need to do so. he uttered a prayer for the unfortunate one, and for those whom he must have left behind him, and added-- "thank heaven, it is not father! but who can say how soon he, too, shall not be thus cut down with mother and little edith?" he remembered that although this tragedy had taken place so near him, and within the last hour or two, he had heard no reports of guns nor any sounds of conflict. that, however, was accounted for by the direction of the wind, as already explained. really nothing seemed left for him to do. he had done everything in his power to find his friends and failed. as long as night continued the faculty of vision was useless to him. "well, jack," he said despairingly, "do as you choose; i am helpless." as if in sympathy with his young master, the pony moved off on a slow walk, which he continued until, by some means, which brinton hardly understood, he clambered down into a gully, similar to the arroya in which they had taken shelter that afternoon. in doing this, it is probable that the animal was guided by that instinct which prompts his kind to seek shelter from the severity of the weather, for the refuge was a welcome one to the rider as well as himself. on the way thither and after arriving there, brinton signalled and called repeatedly to his parents. the continued failure to bring a reply led him to decide that nothing more could be done before morning. he flung himself off his pony, and made ready to remain where he was until then. the gully was narrow, and the banks at the point where he drew rein were high enough to shut out the gale. food for himself and horse was out of the question, and neither was suffering for want of it. the big cheyenne had given to them all the water they wanted; and physically, therefore, nothing in their condition was specially unpleasant. it would have been a great comfort to have had a fire by which to nestle down, but two causes rendered this impossible: no material was within reach, and, if there had been, he would not have dared to kindle it. jack's saddle was removed, and, in obedience to the command of his master, he lay down on the flinty earth, while brinton disposed himself so as to receive a part of the warmth of his body. thus, with the help of his own thick clothing, his situation was more comfortable than would be supposed. despite his worry and anxiety, he soon fell asleep, and did not open his eyes again until the grey light of the wintry morning was stealing through the gully. he was chilled and cramped by his exposure, but leaping to his feet, he soon restored his benumbed circulation. jack, seeing his master astir, sprang up, and looked at him as if to announce that he was ready for any work that was before them. "well, my boy, we shall have to go without our breakfast, but you and i can stand that, i reckon, for this thing must end before we are many hours older----" "well, i'll be shot!" the exclamation was uttered by a horseman, who at that moment rode into sight in the gully and checked his animal only a couple of rods distant, adding-- "i didn't expect to meet you here, brint; where are the rest of the folk?" "that's what i would like to know; i am worried to death, nick; can't you help us?" "i'll do anything i can, my lad, but what is it?" the newcomer was nicholas jackson, serving as a scout for general miles. it will be remembered that it was he who stopped at the home of the kingslands a short time before and warned them of their danger. had his advice been heeded, they would not have been in such sore straits at this time. brinton quickly told of his strange experience of the night before and his perplexity as to what he should do. "i don't think anything has happened to them," was the reassuring response of jackson, "for the darkness was in their favour. they are hiding somewhere in these gullies, just as you did, and dare not show themselves." "but how are we to find them?" "there's only one way i know of--look for them." "what are you doing here, nick?" "we learned at wounded knee that a company with supplies was to come from rapid city, and i have been sent out on a scout; an escort is coming to bring them into camp. you have heard of the battle at wounded knee creek, i suppose?" "not a word." the old scout compressed his lips and shook his head. "i have been in a good many scrimmages under generals crook and miles, but that was the hottest half-hour i ever spent." "how was it, nick?" "you know that the hostiles have been gathering in the bad lands ever since this trouble began. we have them pretty well surrounded, but there must be a big fight before we wind up this serious business. two days before christmas word reached us that three thousand indians, including six hundred bucks, were there. you can understand how much relief it was, therefore, to learn that big foot, with a lot of sitting bull's fugitives on cherry creek reservation, had surrendered to colonel sumner. "that was all well enough, but while conducting the band of two hundred to the missouri, the next day, the whole lot escaped and hurried south to join kicking bear and the rest of the hostiles. _then_ the trouble began. "four days later little bat, one of our indian scouts, discovered big foot and his band eight miles north of major whiteside's camp on wounded knee creek, and four troops of the seventh cavalry started for them, with me among 'em. "as the hostiles spied us they formed a long battle line, all with guns and knives, the knives being in their cartridge belts outside their blankets. "i tell you, brint, things looked squally. we could see the gleam of their black eyes, and the way they scowled and glared at us showed that nothing would suit 'em better than to drive their knives to the hilts into every one of us. "but major whiteside meant business. he drew us up, too, in battle line. just then big foot was seen coming forward on foot. the major dropped down from his saddle and went forward to meet him. "'me ill,' said big foot, 'me want peace--my people want peace----' "the major was impatient. "'i won't talk or parley with you,' he broke in; 'it is surrender or fight; i await your answer.' "'we surrender--we done so before, but could not find you,' said big foot. "i had my eye on the chief, who just then turned and motioned with his arm to his own battle line. they seemed to be looking for the signal, 'cause the white flag was shown at once. we rode forward quick like and surrounded them, and a courier was sent off post haste for four troops of the seventh, and leftenant taylor's scouts to help guard and disarm the party. they arrived the same day. big foot had one hundred and fifty warriors fully armed, with two hundred and fifty squaws and many children. despite the surrender, we all knowed trouble was coming, and it was not long before it came, like one of them kansan cyclones." chapter viii. "the bucks were coming up alarmingly fast." "when general forsyth arrived," continued the scout, in his description of the battle of wounded knee creek, "he ordered the male indians to come for a talk. they come out, scowling and sullen, and gathered in a half-circle in front of big foot's tent. the chief was inside, ill with pneumonia. "the general told them they must surrender their arms in groups of twenty. by this time they were thoroughly enraged, but most of our boys thought they were so cowed they would obey without much trouble. i didn't like their looks, and told jenkins at my side to hold himself ready, for i believed them fellows meant mischief, and a fight was sure. "'i guess not,' he answered; 'they're obeying orders.' "the first score slunk back without a word. we waited a long while, and by-and-by they came out agin, and how many guns do you 'spose they brought with 'em. just two miserable pieces, worth so much old iron. "the major was impatient because of the delay, and, when he saw this, he too was angry. he turned and talked a few minutes with general forsyth, both speaking so low that i couldn't catch what they said, though i seen the general was as angry as the major, but he kept cool. you see, the major was managing the business, but he made sure that everything was done as general forsyth wanted. "the cavalry was now ordered to dismount, and they done so, forming a square about fifty feet back and closed in, standing within a half-dozen yards of the indians that was in the centre. "it was plain that the latter didn't mean to obey orders, though they pretended to. accordingly a body of cavalry was sent to make the search themselves. when they came out, which they did in a few minutes, they brought sixty good rifles with 'em. that was doing the business up in style; but the general and the major didn't intend there should be any half-way work about it. the soldiers were directed to search the bucks themselves, for there was no doubt that all of 'em had their guns hid under their blankets. "the sioux stood scowling, ugly and savage. when about a dozen had been searched and their rifles brought out, they couldn't stand it. they were furious. like a flash, the rest of 'em whipped out their guns from under their blankets and let fly at us. it was so sudden that before we knew what it meant, a hundred guns had been fired, and the reports sounded like one volley. "it was all done in a twinkling. there we were, close enough almost to touch the redskins, and the flash of their rifles was right in our faces. i remember that i was looking into the muzzle of one of 'em, when the gun went off, and i felt the bullet nip my ear; but others weren't so fortunate, and the poor boys dropped as though so many thunderbolts had fallen among 'em. "it didn't take us long, howsumever, to get in _our_ work. "i can tell you," added scout jackson, "there were lively times for twenty minutes or half an hour. during the battle we stood off some distance when firing at each other, but it was like you and me standing near enough almost to shake hands, and blazing away. them redskins fought hard. it was bang, bang, with the soldiers dropping all around, and no saying when your own turn was to come. "but the hostiles got the worst of it. some of 'em, seeing how it was going, broke through our lines and dashed for the hills to the south-west. we followed 'em, and the fighting kept up as bad as ever, though the shots wasn't so rapid. we lost about thirty, and more than that wounded, and of them some are likely to die." "where were the squaws and children during the fight?" asked brinton. an expression of scorn passed over the face of the scout as he made answer-- "where was they? fighting like so many wild cats. you'll be told that we chased and shot down women and children. there's no question that a big lot of 'em was killed, and how was it to be helped? them squaws was dressed so much like the bucks that you couldn't be certain which was which. from the way they fought, you might have believed each one was ten bucks rolled into one. "but of course we cleaned 'em out, for that's what the seventh always does, when it undertakes that sort of thing; from what i've told you, you'll know there was hot work for a time. a youngster about like yourself had charge of a hotchkiss gun. and the way he handled that all through the fight made us feel like cheering, even when we didn't dare to stop shooting long enough to do so. "when the sioux fled, this youngster dragged his gun from the knoll where he had been stationed. leftenant hawthorne was at his side, and the fighting had become skirmishing on the crests of the ravines, where big foot's band had taken refuge. the bullets were singing and whistling through the air, but that boy wheeled his hotchkiss to the mouth of the gulch, where the firing was the heaviest. the minute he done that, he and the men attached to the gun become the targets of the indians, who was determined to shoot 'em down. the bullets splintered the wheels of the gun, and sent the dirt flying right and left and in the air. a ball struck leftenant hawthorne's watch, glanced off, and wounded him; but the youngster pushed the gun forward and shelled the pockets in the ravines. "that boy kept it up, pushing steadily on and sending the shells wherever they could do the most harm. when the battle was over, he was found wounded, leaning against the shattered wheel of his gun, too weak to stand erect. big foot was among the killed." brinton kingsland was so interested in the story of his companion, who was too modest to dwell upon his own exploits, that he forgot for a few minutes his own situation and the absence of his friends. with only a brief comment on what had been told him, he said, starting up-- "but, nick, of what have i been thinking? here the morning is fully come, and i have not learned anything of father, mother, and edith. how could i forget them so long?" "it was my fault more than yours," replied jackson; "there's nothing to be made by staying here; let's ride out of the gully and look around; i've had a bite, and have something left over; will you have it?" "not just now," replied brinton, as he rode side by side with him out of the depression where he had spent the night. reaching the higher ground, they looked over the surrounding country. the youth gave his chief attention to the rear--that is, in the direction of the big cheyenne, for he believed that wolf ear and the other hostiles were not far off. but, if so, they were not in sight. the scout, however, had discovered something in front, and at a considerable distance, which interested him. shading his eyes with one hand, he gazed intently toward the north. "by gracious!" he exclaimed, "i believe that's them." "where?" eagerly asked his companion. "i don't mean your folk, but that waggon train with supplies from rapid city." brinton's heart sank, for his hopes had been high; but he found some consolation, after all, in the declaration of the scout. a mile away, across the prairie, a party seemed to be preparing to leave camp. at that distance it was impossible to identify them, but jackson was positive that they were the train in search of which he had left the camp at wounded knee. brinton's hope was that his parents were with them. it would have been hard for him to explain just why his hope was so strong in this respect, but it seemed reasonable to suspect that the light of the camp had attracted their notice during the darkness, and that they had gone thither, after finding it impossible to rejoin him. the real, but slight, ground on which he based this fancy was that his pony jack had been found while he, his owner, was travelling in a direct line from the big cheyenne toward the camp. since the animal must have kept company for a time with the other two, the kingslands had continued the same course, and might have descried the twinkle of the camp fire. "i myself would have seen it, had i not ridden the other way and gone into the gully, where i couldn't detect anything a dozen feet away." "yes, i'm almost sure it's them," added jackson, after further studying the camp; "let's find out." the proposition suited brinton, and the two headed their ponies toward the camp. although at the moment of starting there was no danger in sight, and the supply train did not seem to have been disturbed, nicholas jackson was too experienced to forget every precaution, and while he studied the scene in front, he kept glancing toward the other parts of the compass. and it was well he did so, for a few hundred yards only were passed when he said in a low voice, in which no excitement could be noted-- "it looks as if them bucks would like to j'in our company." brinton glanced back, and saw the half-dozen hostiles with whom he had had his stirring experiences the night before dashing towards them from the direction of the cheyenne. there was no need to engage them in a fight: indeed, it would have been the height of imprudence to do so. jackson and brinton were well mounted, and they instantly struck their horses into a run. the indians shouted on perceiving that they were discovered, and they also urged on their animals. several shots were fired, but the distance was too great to do execution. the race had continued but a little while when it became apparent that the pursuers were gaining, jackson's horse was doing his best, but brinton's was not. he could draw away from the indian ponies, but his rider held him back to keep the scout company. the chase could not last long, for the camp was comparatively near at hand, but the bucks were coming up alarmingly fast. "there's no use of both of us being overhauled," said jackson; "ride ahead and save yourself." "but i can't desert you." "faugh! don't be foolish; you can't help me, and you're sure to be shot if you stay; off with you!" "but what will become of you?" "that's nothing to you; it looks as if i must bid you good-bye; billberry has gone lame, but i'll make the best fight i can, and if i go down, some of 'em have got to go with me." brinton was much perplexed what to do, but he knew that the question of life and death must be decided within the next few seconds. chapter ix. "he has made his last scout." the perplexing question was settled by brinton kingsland's pony taking his bit in his mouth and speeding towards the camp of the supply train, as if driven by a hurricane. the youth could not but feel conscience-smitten at this apparent desertion of a comrade in dire extremity, but there was no help for it. besides, jackson was right when he urged brinton to lose no time in saving himself, since it was out of his power to help the imperilled scout. the pursuing hostiles had now approached near enough to make their shots effective. the whistling bullets warned brinton of his danger, so he threw himself forward on the neck of his pony, who rushed ahead with arrowy swiftness. the clatter of hoofs made young kingsland glance to his left: there was billberry, the scout's steed, with neck outstretched, going madly on. he had been touched by one of the flying bullets, and in his panic forgot the weak leg that already had delayed him to a fatal extent. his desperate burst of speed brought him alongside of jack, whose rider, to his amazement, saw him shoot ahead at a pace which none of his kind could surpass, and none there could equal. but his bridle-reins and stirrup-straps were flying in the gale caused by his own tremendous swiftness. brave nick jackson had been shot from the back, and was fighting his last fight. brinton kingsland tugged at the rein of jack, and shouted a savage command in the same breath, the pony would not stop, but, slackening his speed, described a circle, which brought him round with his head toward the pursuers. pierced by one of the balls of the bucks, the scout fell from his saddle, but, recovering himself with wonderful dexterity, turned about, and with levelled winchester bravely faced his foes. the shots were rapid on both sides, and those of jackson did much execution. but his fate was sealed from the first, and none knew it better than he. "i can't stand that!" muttered young kingsland, the moment he succeeded in facing jack the other way; "i have already played the coward, though, heaven knows, i couldn't help it." something of his daring seemed to tingle in the veins of his pony; for, now that he was urged to return, he headed straight for the group of combatants, and shot forward at full speed. meanwhile the members of the supply train were not idle. they had descried the coming of two horsemen from afar, and were quick to recognise them as friends. had there been any doubt, it vanished at sight of the pursuing indians behind them. three were in the saddle in an instant, and scurrying away to the relief of the solitary man fighting for his life. brinton was not aware they were at his heels. he mistook the sound of their horses' hoofs for that of jackson's animal, who, he supposed, had turned, and was rushing into the heart of the peril, as his kind will do when forced out of a burning building. the first warning the youth received of the true state of affairs was when the approaching horsemen fired from behind him at the group crowding around and pressing the scout so sorely. but the hostiles were quicker than he to see their peril. they wheeled hastily, and, flinging themselves over the necks of their ponies, skurried in the direction of the cheyenne. it is the custom of the american indians to carry off their dead and wounded. the latter probably looked after themselves in this instance, but in their haste the two that had fallen by the hand of nick jackson were left stretched on the ground. an extraordinary incident now took place. in the furious struggle one of the hostiles had become dismounted. disregarding the fate of his companions, or probably seeing that the brave scout had become so weakened that the peril no longer existed, he leaped from the back of his pony and dashed forward to give the white man his finishing-stroke. before he could do this, the relief party were so close that he did not dare to tarry. he turned to remount his pony, but the animal had become panic-stricken in the flurry--it may have been that he was struck by a bullet--and was galloping off, as if for his own life. furthermore, he made straight for the camp of the supply train, so that his capture was impossible. but there were two other animals that had lost their riders, and, if he could secure one of these, he might yet save himself. they, however, were galloping among the others riding for life toward the big cheyenne. the bucks, with less chivalry than the youth had shown in similar circumstances, gave no heed to the peril of their dismounted comrade, but sped across the prairie at the utmost speed of which they were capable. among them was possibly one who, seeing that the whites, instead of keeping up the pursuit, had halted around the fallen scout, gave a little thought to their comrade. this friend would not turn back himself, nor did any of the others do so, but with the palm of his hand the former smote one of the riderless ponies across the eyes and shouted a command in his ear. the horse checked himself with a cry of pain, reared, shook his head, and then, dropping out of the group running close together, wheeled and trotted toward the dismounted indian. the latter gave a thrilling exhibition of running. he saw that his only hope lay in reaching one of the ponies of his comrades that had basely deserted him, since to undertake to recapture his own animal must take him into the camp of his enemies. he therefore exerted himself to the utmost to overtake the party before the whites could overtake him. had there been none interested besides the three members of the supply train, all would have gone well with the buck, for, as we have said, they gathered around the fallen scout and gave their whole attention to him. but there was another, who resolved that this miscreant should pay for his unpardonable barbarity to a brave and fallen enemy. that one was brinton kingsland. quick to grasp the situation, after finding himself too late to help poor jackson, he noted the solitary indian, and believing him to be the one who had laid the scout low (though if he had not struck the actual blow, he was equally guilty), he compressed his lips and muttered-- "i'll teach you a lesson, you assassin!" the redskin, as he ran, grasped his winchester in his right hand in a trailing position. the heavy blanket was secured at the throat by some fastening that held it in place. the lower portion streamed out over his back, as did his long black hair, in the wind created by his own fleetness, while his leggings doubled and twinkled so fast that they resembled the spokes of a swiftly-revolving wheel he was, indeed, running with astonishing speed. "now, jack, do your best! there isn't any time to lose, and you are not going to let a miserable redskin outspeed you." the pony flung up his head, snuffed the air, stretched out his neck, and away he went with arrowy swiftness. he knew what was wanted of him, and was not the one to shirk his duty. it was at this juncture that the fugitive, going like a whirlwind, turned his head for an instant and glanced back brinton was watching him, and saw the scowling face glaring like a wild beast through the thicket of flying hair. "great heavens! it's wolf ear!" during these exciting minutes the youth had forgotten about the young ogalalla, until this glimpse of the well-remembered features told him the startling truth. the shock caused him involuntarily to tighten the rein of jack, and the animal, obedient as he generally was, instantly slackened his pace. but the hesitation was for a few seconds only. brinton felt that he ought not to have been surprised after the events of the preceding day and night. "he deserves death more than any of the rest, for his knowledge has been greater than theirs, and his excuse is less. i'll run him down and make him prisoner." again he spoke sharply to jack and twitched the rein. the noble animal stretched away with the same graceful swiftness he had shown from the first. but the ogalalla was cunning. he had seen the indian pony as it withdrew from the rest and came trotting toward him in a bewildered way, as though not quite understanding what it meant; but if the animal was perplexed, wolf ear was not. he read the meaning aright, and saw that one desperate chance remained. if he could hurl himself upon the back of that same steed before the white youth overhauled him, the prospect was good for his ultimate escape. brinton comprehended everything as vividly as he, and did not spare jack. he aimed to interpose himself between wolf ear and his pony, and thus prevent their meeting. every nerve and muscle was strained to accomplish that end. young kingsland was already close enough to shoot down the fugitive, and he felt he deserved to be laid low, but, as we have shown, such was not his purpose. an indefinable dislike to slay a foe, even though ferocious and guilty, prevented his firing the shot that would speedily have ended it all. the rest of the hostiles had disappeared over a swell of the plain and were out of reach. why did not wolf ear, when he saw he could not reach his pony in time, halt and bring his gun to bear on his fierce pursuer? he did. the cunning fellow, almost within reach of the pony, and at the moment when his heart was beating high with hope, saw everything frustrated by the action of the animal. the sight of a person coming toward him at such terrific speed, even though belonging to the race to which he was accustomed, was too disturbing to be accepted with serenity. he raised his head as he came to a halt, surveyed the bounding figure, and then, with a snort of affright, wheeled and trotted toward the river. his speed was much less than that of the ogalalla, but of necessity it compelled the latter to run farther than he would have done had the beast remained stationary, and it was just that brief interval of enforced stay on the ground that told the ogalalla the white youth must reach him before he could overtake the pony. "surrender, wolf ear!" called brinton; "you can't help yourself." evidently wolf ear held a different opinion, for he wheeled like lightning, and levelled his rifle with the reply-- "that's the way _i_ surrender! do you surrender!" the action was so sudden that brinton could not forestall him. he was fairly caught. it was, however, far from brinton's thoughts to yield to this startling command. he flung himself over the other side of the saddle, so as to offer as little of his body as possible to the aim of the miscreant. he was certain he would fire and shoot down his horse, if not himself. he waited with an intensity of emotion which cannot be described. one minute, two minutes passed, but no report came. then brinton heard the suspicious clatter of a horse's hoofs, and peeped over the spine of jack. he was in time to see wolf ear galloping off on the hack of the pony. with inimitable dexterity he had secured the animal during the brief interval at his command, and was now going like the wind over the prairie, after his departed comrades. the ogalalla, however, was not too far away to shout back a taunt and the words-- "wise young man, my gun was not loaded, but it served me as well." then he whisked over the elevation and vanished. there was no help for it, and the chagrined brinton wheeled and galloped toward the group whom he had left some distance behind on the prairie. they were riding slowly to the camp, supporting a form between them. dreading the truth, brinton held back until the others reached the camp. then he rode forward and asked-- "was nick badly hurt?" "he is dead; he did not speak after we reached him. he was a brave fellow, but he has made his last scout." brinton sighed, for he respected and loved the man who had thus died for his country. but another question was on his lips. he looked around the camp, and his heart sank at his failure to see any of the loved ones whom he was so hopeful of finding there. in a trembling voice he put the query. the answer was what he dreaded: they had neither seen nor did they know anything of them. chapter x "oh, there is wolf ear!" it will be remembered that when brinton kingsland dropped to the ground in the gathering darkness to check the crossing of the big cheyenne by the sioux, whose leader had met him in mid-stream, he called in an undertone to his parents to hasten out of the range of the flying bullets; he repeated the command to his pony jack, who obediently trotted after them. the father and mother, at this time, had no more thought of separating themselves for any distance from their brave son than he had; but two causes brought about the singular accident already referred to. the excited words of brinton and the reports of the guns led the couple to think the danger more imminent than it was. as a consequence, they rode farther than was necessary, but still not to a point that ought to have caused any difficulty in their coming together when prudent to do so. mr. kingsland's pony travelled faster than that of his wife, thus placing him a few yards in advance. the gloom had not yet become deep enough to prevent their seeing each other; but at a moment when the wife was about to ask her husband to stop, she was surprised to see him turn to the left, his pony struggling up the bank to the level ground above. "why do you do that, hugh?" she called in a guarded voice, but at once following him. he did not answer, but narrowly missed falling out of the saddle. his animal continued moving away from the river-bank, and presently struck into an easy gallop, which rapidly increased the distance from the stream. mrs. kingsland now suspected the meaning of the strange action, and urged her pony beside that of her husband, which was going so fast that she was obliged to travel farther than she supposed before coming up with him. then, laying hold of the bridle, she brought her husband's pony to a halt. "what is the matter, hugh?" she asked; "are you ill?" "gracious! what have i been doing?" he exclaimed, in turn bewildered, and looking about in the darkness. "why, you have been trying to run away from us," said edith, with a laugh, believing the whole thing to be a joke on her father's part. "you have come a good way from the riverbank," replied the disturbed wife; "i tried to check you, but could not." "i understand it now," said he, passing his hand across his forehead, in the effort to collect his thoughts. "just after we started a faintness seized me, and i knew nothing until this minute. i don't understand why i did not fell out of the saddle." "i saw you reel, and you must have come near doing so. how do you feel now?" "much better. strange that i should have been attacked in that manner; but i am sure it will not occur again. what will brinton think?" "i have heard the report of guns, but all is quiet now." "i feel little alarm, for they will not dare to cross while he is guarding the ford." "is he not in danger?" "no; he is lying on the ground, and they cannot see him; he will hold them at bay as long as he wishes." "but they may come over at some other point and get behind him." "i did not think of that," said the husband more thoughtfully; "but i am sure he will not stay any longer than he ought. it won't do for us to go back, for, if the indians do cross the river, we shall be in their path. it may be well to go part of the way over our own track, so as to make it easier for him to find us. come on, and make no noise." "but you are not taking the right course," protested his wife: "you should turn more to the left." "i feel almost sure you are wrong; but you have had your senses about you all the time, which is more than i have had, and i bow to your decision." "but, mother, you are not right," interposed edith, now fully awake; "you should go that way"; and she indicated a route widely different from that of either--so different, indeed, that her mother could not accept it. "no, dear, you are wrong," she calmly replied. "i will lead." and yet there is reason to believe the child was nearer right than either, and had her suggestion been adopted, much of what followed might have been averted. while they were riding, as they believed, in the direction of the big cheyenne, mr. kingsland noticed that the pony of his son was not with them. his wife said that he did not come up the river-bank, and was probably waiting for brinton to go to him. it will thus be seen that the youth was wrong in his supposition about the movements of jack. by-and-by the time came when mrs. kingsland saw she had committed a sad blunder, and, instead of approaching the river, had gone still farther from it; they could hear nothing of its flow, and were lost on the prairie. husband and wife now debated what was best to do. it was found that when each, including edith, named the supposed direction to the stream, they were as widely apart as before. "the wisest course is to stop trying to find the river," remarked the husband, "for every effort only takes us farther away; we might as well go into camp right here." "and freeze to death." "no; we will ride round until we find some shelter from this cutting wind, and then make ourselves as comfortable as we can until morning. do you see that light away to the south?" that which the ranchman observed was the glow already referred to as attracting the notice of brinton. the latter saw it in its true direction--that is, in the northern horizon, from which the bewilderment of his parents will be evident. in the hope of finding their way to the river the couple acted upon what might be considered a compromise. it is not necessary to say that every yard thus traversed increased the space between them and the youth who, at that moment, was groping blindly in quest of them. the wanderings of the stray ones, however, were fortunately not long continued, when the ponies of their own accord descended a depression in the prairie. it was not deep or well protected, and was not reached until after they had passed over several elevations, but they accepted the shelter thankfully, and dismounted. the three were cramped from their long constraint, and edith ran around and here and there for some minutes before she was willing to be tucked away for the night. their abundant clothing enabled them to get along much better than might be supposed; the little one lay between father and mother, the ponies being allowed to stay by themselves. as in the case of brinton, the long wintry night passed without disturbance or incident. with the coming of daylight mr. kingsland roused himself. seeing his wife and child were still sleeping, he did not awake them, and took the best survey he could of their surroundings. the weather was still intensely cold and the sky overcast. a look at his watch showed it was near eight o'clock when he clambered out of the depression and looked about him. the first discovery to cause surprise was the shelter that they had enjoyed during the night. instead of being a ravine, like that where brinton had slept, this was a rough irregular excavation, some forty or fifty feet in diameter. the sides sloped gently, the whole appearance being that of an immense hole left by some great explosion of gunpowder, to which a providential chance had guided their horses. the husband saw no sign of any living being besides those with him, nor could he form any surmise as to the course to be taken to effect a meeting with his son. "what will brinton think? after doing so bravely the work i ought to have done, we left him in the lurch. we are as much lost to each other as if in the depths of an african jungle with miles intervening. i can't help feeling that the top of that ridge yonder would give me a view that would disclose something important." he debated with himself whether it was prudent to walk thither and obtain the coveted survey. it was little more than a hundred yards distant, and it did not seem that any harm could come to the loved ones whom he would leave but a few minutes. "i must manage to get my bearings in some way before i can do anything. the sun seems to be off yonder behind the clouds, but really it appears to me as if it were in the wrong place!" he ended the doubt by striding to the elevation, rifle in hand. since his faintness of the night before, he felt better and stronger than he had for weeks, and this fact doubtless had much to do with the feeling of self-confidence which now nerved him. reaching the crest of the ridge or swell in the prairie, kingsland was disappointed. the same kind of view confronted him on every hand, and he experienced a repetition of that sensation which often comes to one in his situation: if he could only pass to the top of the next elevation, he would obtain the view he wanted. but hugh kingsland was too wise to yield to the prompting. one precious member of his family was already gone he knew not where, and he would incur no risk of its being further broken up. he was roused from his meditations in the most startling manner conceivable, the cause being a rifle-shot, undoubtedly aimed at himself. on the summit of the ridge at which he was gazing, and almost at the very point, two indian bucks suddenly walked up from the other side in plain sight. while they were still ascending, and when only their heads and waists showed, one of them brought his rifle to his shoulder and tried his skill on the white man across the valley-like depression. mr. kingsland did not tarry long enough to reply, but hurried back to the hollow where he had left his wife and child. they had awakened, but were not alarmed at his absence, the wife suspecting the cause. she had brought out what was left of the lunch, and she and edith were calmly eating when he reappeared, his looks and manner showing that he had made some terrifying discovery. he quickly explained what had taken place, adding-- "i am in doubt whether to mount the ponies and start to flee, or to stay where we are and try to fight them off." "you saw only two, and they were on foot." "but they are sure to have ponies near, and more than likely more of the hostiles are within call." "let us stay here until something is learned," said the wife, showing admirable coolness and courage. whether or not this was the wiser course remains to be seen, but it was followed. mr. kingsland crept to near the top of the hollow, and lying extended at full length against the sloping bank, peered over, with his rifle ready to fire at the first appearance of danger. his position was such that he could detect the approach of anyone from that side, while his wife guarded the other in a similar manner. the ponies having been quieted, edith was cautioned to remain near them, and to avoid exposing herself to any stray shots that might be fired. as long as she kept at the bottom of the hollow with the animals, she and they were safe. a full hour passed without the least sign of the hostiles. a less experienced person might have accepted this evidence that the danger had passed them by; but when a second hour had worn away with the same quietness everywhere, the husband and wife still maintained their watchfulness. the forenoon was half gone before this vigilance was rewarded. mrs. kingsland called to her husband that there was something suspicious in front of her; and pausing only long enough to make sure that nothing of the kind was immediately before him, he slipped down the hollow and up the opposite slope to her side. "where is it?" he asked in an undertone. "just over that first swell, and a little to the left." "i see him; keep down out of sight!" he placed the muzzle of his repeating winchester over the side of the hollow, took careful aim at the rough head that had risen a few inches above the slight swell in the prairie, and let fly. the aim was a perfect one, as was shown by the instant disappearance of the crown and the cry, which from behind the elevation sounded as if much farther off. instantly three or four replies came from other points along the swell, and the bullets chipped the dirt about the face of kingsland, who ducked his head out of range. knowing, however, how much depended on his concealing his weakness from the hostiles, he fired four shots quickly, without special aim, and with no expectation of accomplishing anything except that named. "if i can make them think there are half a dozen rifles here on the watch, they will be careful about attacking. but they mustn't know how weak we are." "i don't admit that we are so weak in this hollow and with that repeating gun, and you feeling so strong and well." at this juncture a cry was heard from edith. she had forgotten the command of her father, and crept up the opposite slope. "oh, there is wolf ear!" and before anyone could interpose she sprang up the bank and ran toward the ridge where her father had first seen the two hostiles. the horrified parents at the same moment saw three other indians dash toward the innocent child, who never dreamed of her awful peril. [illustration: "'oh, there is wolf-ear!'"] chapter xi. "i'm off; good-bye!" though his brave companion had fallen almost at his side, brinton kingsland had reached the camp of the supply train without receiving so much as a scratch. he mourned him, for he was a worthy man; but he was heart-broken at his failure to gain tidings of his loved parents and little sister. he did not know what to do, and could only fear the worst. when he had told his story to his new friends, none of them were able to offer any encouragement or hope. the supply train consisted of a dozen waggons, in charge of sixteen teamsters. as a matter of course, all were armed, and had come thus far without trouble. they were making ready to resume their journey to wounded knee when the affray already described took place. this caused an hour's delay, and now, when about to start again, the signs of danger became so threatening, they held back for consultation. the indians whom they had driven from the prostrate form of scout jackson reappeared on the crest of the hill over which they had skurried, and it was noticed that their number was increased to fully a dozen. while the teamsters were watching them another band came into sight, in the opposite direction. to the dismay of the spectators, this party was more numerous than the first. not only that, but both bands advanced at a slow trot, and met at a point a couple of hundred yards distant, and in a place over which the train would have to pass if it pushed on toward the camp at wounded knee. "boys," said captain wadsworth, who was in charge of the train, "there's going to be a fight." "we ought to be able to keep them off," replied one of his men. "so we shall if no more appear; but the sioux are as thick as berries, and by-and-by we shall have a hundred or more of them popping away at us. we may as well get ready for what's certain to come." "jackson said something to me," observed brinton, "about an escort having been sent out from wounded knee to bring you in." "they can't come any too soon," responded the captain, who fully comprehended the peril; "but i'm afraid they will be too late. those indians don't let the grass grow under their feet." the leader did not content himself with talking, but began to prepare for the attack, which might come at any moment. the waggons were drawn up in a circle, in the middle of which were placed the horses. bags of grain, boxes and bundles, were piled on the ground underneath the waggons. these served as an additional protection for the animals, and screened the men, when kneeling behind and firing at their assailants. the hostiles were quick to detect what was going on, and did not allow the work to be completed without interference. they began circling back and forth, riding entirely around the camp and discharging their guns at it. the exhibition of horsemanship was a fine one; but they kept at such a distance that their shots did little damage. in some way, one got through the entrenchments, as they might be called, and slightly wounded a horse in the shoulder. he made more fuss than if it had gone through his head, rearing, snorting, and plunging, and throwing the rest into a panic, which would have ended in a stampede, had they not been guarded with unusual care. the teamsters did not accept these unwelcome attentions meekly, but fired at their circling assailants; the cause named, however, prevented much success. it looked as if one or two of the shots inflicted damage, but not to the extent of disabling any pony or his rider. standing at the rear of one of the waggons, where he could see everything that was going on, captain wadsworth watched the exciting incidents. at his elbow was brinton kingsland, who did not think it worth while to try his hand with his winchester, though the others were continually cracking around him. "what is to be feared," said the captain, "is that the hostiles will soon increase to such an extent that they will overwhelm us." "how many do you think are out there now?" inquired brinton. "i should say between twenty and thirty--that is, there were a few minutes ago, but there are five or six less now." "what is the meaning of that?" the leader turned his bronzed face toward the youth and smiled significantly. "don't you catch on? they have sent after reinforcements: a slight number now means a big number pretty soon." "have you noticed those bucks on the top of the ridge yonder?" captain wadsworth looked in the direction named. three indians had dismounted, and were standing close together, or rather two of them were, while the third seemed to be stooping and busy with something on the ground. "how long have they been there?" asked the leader. "they rode up the slope within the last five minutes. they were off their ponies before they stopped. i can't guess what they are doing." "i don't know; but we shall soon learn." although the cracking of rifles continued, and the teamsters, kneeling behind the fortifications, were doing their utmost to pick off some of the dusky riders, who in turn sent in their dropping shots, captain wadsworth gave them little heed. the position of himself and brinton was exposed, and, had their assailants come closer, they would not have dared to maintain it; but with the combatants so widely separated, it cannot be said they were in much real danger. the three indians in whom our friends were so much interested just then were beyond and apart from the others. their horses were cropping the few blades of withered grass that had survived the winter's tempests; but not one was a dozen yards from his master, all of whom were so grouped together that their movements could not be identified. rather curiously there was not a spy-glass among the teamsters. such an article would have been valuable just then; but they had to depend upon their unaided vision. the captain and brinton, however, agreed that two of the bucks were bent over and busy with something on the ground, while the third, standing on the crest of the ridge, appeared to be awaiting the action of his companions before carrying out some plan he had in mind. "look!" whispered the youth; "isn't that smoke?" the captain was silent a moment before answering-- "yes; the indian is like the chinaman: he can start a fire where you and i couldn't kindle a spark. i believe they will make a bundle of water-soaked leaves crackle and burn like tinder wood. those fellows have got some of the dried grass together and have managed to touch it off. you understand what _that_ means, of course?" "i cannot say that i do." "it is a signal fire." "kindled for what purpose?" "to call all the other hostiles in sight here, to take a hand in the fun of massacring us and plundering our train. such a signal can be seen a long way and will do all that is intended. look at it now!" from between the two, who now rose from their stooping posture, a thin finger of vapour arose, going straight upward as if it were a shadowy arrow aimed at the clouds. "one of the bucks is waving his blanket," observed brinton; "he must mean something by that. i suppose he is fanning the blaze to keep it from going out." "no; look at that thin line of smoke; don't you see something peculiar?" "ah! i notice it now." the vapour showed a striking change of appearance; instead of climbing in a straight line, it now waved gracefully from side to side. it was something which never can occur unless with the help of some person. "that is the signal," said captain wadsworth; "it can be seen for miles in all directions, and every indian eye that catches sight of it will read its meaning as plainly as our soldiers do the looking-glass signals. it's a bad thing for us." the captain was an old campaigner, and knew what he was talking about; his impressive manner was not lost upon brinton kingsland. "how far are we from wounded knee?" he asked. "anywhere from a dozen to twenty miles; it depends on the course we take--that is," he added, with a shake of his head, "whether we ever take any course at all." "i cannot recall just what jackson said about an escort from that camp, but i think he told me such an escort had been sent." the captain shook his head. "you must be mistaken; for, if that were the case, why did he ride out here alone? was it not more likely that he came to learn whether we needed protection? and if that is so, they will wait for his return and report before sending out the escort which is the only thing that can save us." this view was so reasonable that brinton could not combat it. "i see one chance," ventured the youth, after a moment's silence, during which he watched the actions of the signal corps on the ridge. the officer turned wonderingly toward him. "i shall be glad to hear what it is." "if a messenger can get through to wounded knee with word of your extremity, they will send you help without delay." "true; but how can such a thing succeed? if it were night it might be done; but in what possible way can a horseman dash through the lines when the bucks would see him start, and they have us surrounded?" "it will be taking big risks, but i would like to try it." captain wadsworth, who had been leaning against the hind wheel of one of the waggons, with his arms folded, abruptly straightened up and stared at the youth, as if uncertain whether he had heard him aright; then he repeated-- "_you_ would like to try it, did you say?" "yes, sir; and i believe i can get through." the officer looked off toward the ridge and shook his head. "don't think of such a thing; we must stay here and fight it out, and trust to providence to open the way, if any is to be opened." but brinton was in earnest, and his eagerness was increased by the discouraging manner of the captain. "i understand your feelings, and i am not blind to what is in the path of the one who attempts to do what i have proposed; but, captain, bear two things in mind: there isn't a fleeter horse in the whole west than my jack. when i gave him rein he pulled away from those indians as though their animals were walking. so all i have to secure is a fair start." "exactly," replied the leader with a grim smile, "and therein you sum up the whole business. all that you need to succeed is to succeed. but what is the other point you wish me to hold in mind?" "the fair start can be secured." "how?" "pretend to ride out against the hostiles. they will gather in front of the threatened point; i will be on the watch, and, when the way opens, will scoot for wounded knee." brinton saw that captain wadsworth was interested. once more he came to the erect position, and looking kindly in his face, said-- "your plan has something in it." the heart of the youth leaped with hope. "i am sure of it; but there's not a minute to lose." this was self-evident, and the captain, having made up his mind, passed among his men and hurriedly explained what he had decided to do. it was for eight or ten of them to mount their horses and move cautiously toward the ridge, as if with the intention of attacking the little signal party there and stamping out their tiny fire. this would cause a concentration (or, more properly, it was hoped that it would) of the hostiles on that side of the camp, of which brinton kingsland would take advantage by dashing out on the other side and riding at full speed to wounded knee. it was the only thing that offered hope, and, therefore, was eagerly accepted by all. the firing was so scattered that no fear was felt in moving about within the circle of waggons, for, as we have shown, captain wadsworth and brinton had been exposed all the time without harm. the sioux kept so far away that it was evident they were waiting for the arrival of reinforcements before making a real attack. the preparations on the part of the teamsters had hardly begun when brinton, who had led his pony forth and stood ready to leap into the saddle, called out-- "you needn't do it! here's my chance!" the majority of the indians were near the ridge at that moment, but some of them were quite a distance off, and, in fact, alarmingly close to the opposite side of the camp. the impatient youth was confident that he could dash through the opening before they could stop him. "it won't do!" protested captain wadsworth; "don't try it! wait till we get them nearer the ridge they will cut you off----" "i'm off! good-bye!" brinton kingsland was in the saddle, and shot out from among the waggons like a thunderbolt. chapter xii. what happened to wolf ear. good fortune attended the daring attempt of brinton kingsland. by a providential occurrence, most of the hostiles were on the side of the supply camp, in the direction of the ridge from whose crest the signal smoke was ascending, when the youth, dexterously guiding his pony through the waggons that surrounded him, quickly cleared himself of all obstacles. "now, jack, old boy, do your best! never was there greater need of it." the intelligent creature thrust his nose forward, and was off like a shot. he knew what was wanted, and nobly responded to the call upon his fleetness. the teamsters forgot all about the indians, and fixed their gaze upon the youth. he was fully a hundred yards from camp before the sioux comprehended what was done. then, when they saw the messenger dashing over the plain, fully a dozen of the best mounted were after him in a flash, discharging several of their guns at the moment of starting. brinton was seen to thunder up the incline of the first swell, sitting firmly in his saddle, and instantly disappeared over the crest. a minute later, the foremost two of the pursuers skimmed up the same incline, just as the lad shot into sight on the summit of the next elevation, instantly whisking out of view over that, while his superb horse continued his arrowy flight toward wounded knee. then the excited and hopeful teamsters could see no more, and all but the foremost two of the pursuers gave up the chase and came straggling back to join their comrades in the attack on the camp. they knew that the result of that flight of the messenger would be to bring help, and, if anything was to be accomplished, it must be before it could arrive. and so the attack on the camp was begun at once, and with a fierceness that speedily brought a crisis. meanwhile, brinton kingsland was going with undiminished speed over the prairie, skimming up the inclines and down the slopes at a break-neck pace, with every nerve of his splendid steed strained to the highest. the rider heard the dull report of the rifles that were fired at him, but the distance was too great to cause alarm, and he did not even hear the singing of the bullets, so wide went they of the mark; but the glance cast over his shoulder showed that he had only two pursuers to fear. it was easy to compare their speed with his, and less than a half-mile was passed, when all doubt vanished. they had been thrown a hundred paces to the rear and were losing ground every minute. at the instant of shooting up one of the slopes and disappearing over the crest, brinton snatched off his cap and swung it over his head, with a joyous shout. "hurrah, jack! they're not in it with you; you can take it more easily now." nevertheless, the speed of the pony was maintained for a brief while, until it became certain that his two pursuers had given up the attempt to overtake him, and had gone to wreak their fury on the imperilled teamsters before help could reach them. then brinton made jack drop to a pace which he could continue for hours without fatigue. the youth knew the course to follow to reach the camp at wounded knee creek, and he calculated that he could readily cover the ground in the course of an hour or so. he was too sensible, however, to imagine that an open and uninterrupted course lay before him. at that time, as the reader well knows, the country in the neighbourhood of the bad lands, the reservations and the space between, was overrun with hostiles, as eager as so many jungle tigers to slay settlers, small squads of soldiers, and all white people whom it was safe to attack. he was liable to encounter some of these bands at any moment, and only by continual vigilance could he avoid running into the cunningly laid traps which proved fatal to scores of others. now that the burst of excitement was over, and he was riding at a less killing pace, his thoughts went back to the loved ones from whom he had been so strangely separated. his heart became as lead as he reflected that they could hardly have escaped, considering the condition of his father, from the environing perils which covered miles of territory in every direction. "if i only knew where they were, if alive, i would guide this escort from wounded knee to their help----" what was that? surely he heard the report of guns from some point in advance. jack pricked his ears and increased his pace. "it can have but one meaning," muttered brinton, with a throbbing heart; "someone is in peril: can it be _they_?" he reined up his pony and stood still on the crest of the first elevation he reached, after the ominous sounds fell on his ears. at that moment he descried coming over another ridge, a furlong away, a troop of thirty or forty cavalry, riding at a gallop toward him. "that's the escort from wounded knee," was his instant conclusion; "i was right when i told captain wadsworth that nick jackson said the escort was on the way, though i wasn't certain of it." but evidently the firing had not come from the cavalry. it was from some point between, and, instead of being directly in front, as it first seemed, was off to the right, where he observed a depression, with several dismounted indians crouching around it. "great heavens! it's father fighting them off," he gasped; "he is in that hollow and they have attacked him!" he struck his heels against the ribs of jack, fiercely jerked the bridle-rein, and shouted to him to run at his best straight for the spot. but the approaching cavalry had descried the same thing, and were nearer the hollow than was the youth. they turned the heads of the horses and struck off at full speed. the assailing indians, too, had discovered their danger and were seen skurrying for their ponies, waiting near. the obedient animals turned until their masters sprang upon their backs, when they dashed off at full speed, with a single exception. one of them, forgetful of his danger or determined upon revenge, even at the cost of his life, was observed to have something in his arms as he held his ground. "it is edith that he is about to slay; maybe he has already killed her! o heaven!" the brother groaned, "is it too late to save her?" jack was tearing over the ground at a killing pace, but he could not reach them in time. he could carry his rider there in time to shoot down the indian, but not soon enough to prevent his burying his knife in the innocent heart. but there was a wonderful sharpshooter among the cavalry. he saw the awful peril, and throwing his horse on his haunches, brought his gun to his shoulder. during the instant it was at a level, hugh kingsland dashed out of the hollow, bare-headed, and, with hair streaming, ran toward the indian and his little girl. one pace behind him sped his wife; she was seen to make quick, earnest gestures to the approaching horsemen, and they thought it an appeal to them not to lose a second if they would save her child. at that instant the sharpshooter pressed the trigger of his weapon; the indian dropped the little one, threw up his arms in an aimless way, staggered back and sank to the ground. the next minute the troop thundered up, brinton almost among them. "are you hurt, my darling edith?" he called, leaping out of the saddle, catching her in his arms, pressing her to his heart and kissing her; "speak! did he hurt you?" the child was bewildered by the great confusion, and, without answering her brother, looked him affrightedly in the face. "why, brint, is that you?" "yes, yes; heaven be praised, you are not harmed! oh, how can i be thankful enough? and you, father and mother! what a blessed sight!" the mother gave him one grateful glance and then knelt by the fallen indian, just as edith, slipping from the grasp of her brother, ran to the prostrate figure and bent over it, asking in a voice of inexpressible tenderness-- "what is the matter, wolf ear?" the young ogalalla lay on his back, but at the moment the child spoke he managed, by a great effort, to raise his head and rest it on his hand. he had not spoken, but now, fixing his dark eyes on edith, said in a faint voice-- "wolf ear is hurt!" the troopers sat silent on their horses, looking down on the strange scene. hugh kingsland, with no trace of his illness, stood back a few paces with folded arms, gazing at the moving sight and trying in vain to restrain his emotions. his wife placed her arm under the head of the ogalalla, and, resting it on her knee, smoothed the black hair from his forehead, murmuring words of sympathy; edith covered her face with her hands, and sobbed with a breaking heart. brinton was affected at the sight of his former friend, but he could not help saying-- "mother, we can all pity him, but he was our enemy; and had he not been shot at that moment edith would not be living now." "you are wrong, my son," she replied gently. "wolf ear came forward to save edith." "what are you saying?" "he was with the party that attacked us; he did what he could to restrain them; he could not do so, and he ran forward to join and help us defend ourselves against them. edith saw him first and hurried out to meet him; he caught her up, and, when his companions would have harmed her, he would not let them touch her. he shouted to us to have no fear, that he was our friend. at that moment the soldiers came in sight and the other indians made off. wolf ear knew we were saved, and so he stood still, with edith's arms around his neck. i saw one of the soldiers aiming at them with his gun; husband and i ran out to shield him. i shouted and motioned to the soldier not to shoot, but he did not understand me, and--this is the sad result of the dreadful mistake." wolf ear fixed his eyes upon the wondering brinton, who, walking forward and stooping down, asked in a choking voice-- "is all this true, wolf ear?" "the words of your mother are true." "but what meant your course toward me yesterday? i cannot reconcile that with what i have just heard." "we parted friends, though i told you i was the enemy of the rest of your race. from the time we separated i have done all i could to find your people and save them before it was too late. until now, i have not met you." "you forget; we met in the gorge last night, and only this morning, when you sought the life of nick jackson, i chased you over the ridge in the effort to make you prisoner." a smile overspread the dark face, and the head swayed a single time to one side. "brinton, you are mistaken; the ogalalla whom you met, as you say, in the gully, and whom you sought to make prisoner, was not i--he was my twin brother, young bear; our mother can hardly tell us apart, and i taught him to speak english as well as i." "oh, what have i done!" wailed brinton, breaking down utterly, and covering his face with his hands. "i never dreamed of this; can you forgive this dreadful mistake?" "yes," said wolf ear faintly, "i forgive you; i forgive the soldier who shot me, for he did it to save _her_ life." he wearily closed his eyes, but opened them again when he felt the chubby arms of edith clasped round his neck, and her lips pressed against his. "oh, wolf ear!" she sobbed, in tones that brought tears to more than one eye among the bronzed troopers, "do not die! i love you, next to brint and papa and mamma----" among the silent troopers touched by the scene was the sharpshooter who had brought wolf ear low. he was a brave, rugged soldier, but, like most men, had a tender heart. he had not spoken for some minutes, and his eyes were moist as he swung his foot from his stirrup and over the haunch of his horse to the ground. "jim budworth don't often make a miss," he said in a broken voice, "and i didn't miss this fellow; but then i didn't aim to kill him, and i don't believe i did. i know a little about surgery myself--so let me take a look at wolf ear, as you call him." wondering at the words of the sharpshooter, and hardly daring to hope he was right, all watched him as he made what may be called a medical examination of the sufferer. the bullet had struck him in the side, and evidently had inflicted the wound intended. "injins are tough," remarked budworth, "and this one is as tough as the rest. he isn't going to die. here, wolf ear, try this." as he spoke, the trooper held a flask of spirits to the lips of the young indian and forced him to swallow some of it. it produced an immediate effect; and, to the astonishment of everyone, wolf ear assumed a sitting position and looked round with a smile. "i feel better--much better, thank you," he said, with a grateful look at budworth. "of course you do. it was a narrow chance for you, no mistake; but all you want is careful nursing, and i reckon mrs. kingsland here will be glad to give it you." "indeed i will," said the delighted woman; "there is nothing that i will not do for wolf ear. can it be possible that he is going to get well after all?" "of course it is; i know all about injins." "oh, i am so glad!" exclaimed the happy edith, throwing her arms again about his neck. "easy now, easy now," said budworth; "don't go to rolling and tumbling him about until he gets a little stronger. after that you can handle him as you choose." wolf ear rallied with amazing quickness, and showed all the heroism of his race, when he was helped upon his horse and the party moved back to the supply camp, where the teamsters had succeeded in driving off the hostiles. the indian was given an easy, comfortable couch in one of the waggons, and some hours later the party arrived at wounded knee. there the sufferer received the best of medical attention, and was soon able to move about with scarcely any pain or trouble. his recovery was rapid; and to-day only a slight scar remains to tell how nearly he met death in his efforts to save his friends from the warriors of his own race. and within the following few weeks the threatening cloud that had overspread the western sky, behind which the blood-red lightning gleamed and played, dissolved, and gave place to the sweet sunshine of peace, which, let us pray, may continue for ever. printed by cassell and company, limited, la belle sauvage. london, e.c. , in taunton town. historical tales by e. everett-green. _in handsome crown vo volumes, cloth extra, gilt tops. price s. each._ in taunton town. a story of the days of the rebellion of james, duke of monmouth, in . shut in. a tale of the wonderful siege of antwerp in the year . the lost treasure of trevlyn. a story of the days of the gunpowder plot. in the days of chivalry. a tale of the times of the black prince. loyal hearts and true. a story of the days of queen elizabeth. the church and the king. a tale of england in the days of henry viii. _in post vo volumes, cloth extra. price s. d. each._ evil may-day. a story of . in the wars of the roses. the lord of dynevor. a tale of the times of edward the first. the secret chamber at chad. _published by_ t. nelson and sons, london, edinburgh, and new york in taunton town [illustration: _james, duke of monmouth._] t. nelson & sons _london, edinburgh & new york_ _in taunton town_ _a story of the rebellion of james duke of monmouth in _ _by_ _e. everett-green_ _author of_ "_in the days of chivalry_," "_the church and the king_," "_the lord of dynevor_," "_shut in_" _&c. &c._ [illustration] _t. nelson and sons_ _london, edinburgh, and new york_ _ _ contents. i. the snowe family, ii. my career is settled, iii. my new home, iv. my new life, v. i get amongst fine folk, vi. viscount vere, vii. a winter of plots, viii. "le roi est mort," ix. the muttering of the storm, x. my ride to lyme, xi. our deliverer, xii. back to taunton, xiii. the revolt of taunton, xiv. a glorious day, xv. the maids of taunton, xvi. "the taunton king," xvii. on the war-path, xviii. in peril in a strange city, xix. a baptism of blood, xx. in suspense, xxi. back at bridgewater, xxii. fatal sedgemoor, xxiii. terrible days, xxiv. the prisoner of the castle, xxv. just in time, xxvi. the terrible judge, xxvii. the judge's sentences, xxviii. peace after storm, xxix. my lord and my lady, xxx. a christmas scene, epilogue, in taunton town. chapter i. _the snowe family._ i certainly never thought when i was young that i should live to write a book! scarce do i know how it betides that i have the courage to make so bold, now that i am well stricken in years, and that my hair has grown grey. to be sure (if i may say so without laying myself open to the charge of boasting, a thing abhorrent to me), i have always been reckoned something of a scholar, notwithstanding that i was born a farmer's son, and that my father would have been proud could he but have set his name on paper, as men of his station begin to do now-a-days, and think little of it. but times have changed since i was a boy--perhaps for the better, perhaps for the worse; who knows? anyhow, there is more of learning in the world, for sure, though whether more of honesty let others be the judge! and now, how and when am i to begin my tale? sitting over the fire and recalling stirring scenes of bygone days, it seems simple enough to record in writing my memories of those times when we good folks of the west country thought we had found a deliverer who would break from the neck of england the yoke of the hated papist tyranny which was being laid upon us (at least so we all feared and believed) by one whose name is yet spoken in these parts with a curse. but when one sits to a table with quill and ink-horn beside one, then it does not appear so simple a task; and inasmuch as i have no skill in such matters as the writing of chronicles, i must e'en go to work my own fashion, and if that fashion be a poor one, must ask pardon of all such as may have the patience or complaisance to read my poor story. well, then, it seems that the first thing to do is to state who i am, and how it came about that i was so mixed up with that brief period of history which has left such indelible marks in the hearts of the people of our fair west country. the former is quickly and easily explained; the latter will be unfolded as this narrative proceeds. my father was one joseph snowe, a farmer of some substance, and the eldest of three brothers. he was a man of some importance, being the owner of five gable farm at shorthorne; and shorthorne--as i suppose all men know--lies midway betwixt taunton and bridgewater, two notable fair towns of our fertile and pleasant county of somerset. there was an old saw spoken anent the snowe family which said that the men thereof who were not farmers and tillers of the soil were brewers of malt liquor and the keepers of hostelries. nor would it become me to deny with too much eagerness the truth of this saying, seeing that i myself have been master of an inn these many years, and that i have brothers who both till the soil and sell and make malt liquor. but to return to my father and his two brothers. five gable farm had belonged to the snowes as far back as we cared to ask questions. it had passed from father to son for many generations; and since i was the youngest of six brothers, there seemed little likelihood of its passing to alien hands for many a day to come. my father's name was joseph--as became the eldest of the house; for joseph was a great name in the snowe family. next to him came uncle john, of whom i shall have much to say in these pages; and last of the three, uncle robert, who was a good deal younger than the other pair, two sisters having been born in between. now uncle john was a big man, as big as father himself, with a loud voice and a right jovial manner. i doubt not that he found this jovial address a great source of income to him; for he kept the inn of the three cups in gay taunton town, and travellers who paused at his door to ask the way or quaff a cup of mead on horseback seldom rode onwards after having had speech of mine host--unless much pressed for time--but dismounted to taste the good cheer of the house, and more often than not remained until the morrow beneath the friendly shelter of the roof-tree. i was to learn all about this in good sooth, as will shortly be made clear to all. uncle robert had followed the example of uncle john, or had perhaps been guided in his choice by the old adage of which i have spoken; for he too became master of an inn in bridgewater, by name the cross keys. it was not such a flourishing or important house as the three cups in taunton, nevertheless it was a comfortable and well-liked place of rest; and the name of snowe went far in the district as a warranty for good cheer and fair charges. now it will readily be seen that it was a great matter of advantage to my father to have two brothers within easy distance of the farm, both in the inn-keeping line of business. all our spare produce was sent to one inn or the other, bought readily at fair prices, and often bespoken for months beforehand. we prided ourselves on the breed of our sheep, the quality of our beef, the excellence of our smoked hams; and the fame of all these things made us well known both in taunton and in bridgewater, so that private persons from the neighbourhood would come craving of mother to spare them of our produce, and these earnings of hers came in the course of a year to a tidy little sum of money. but i must not wander on in this fashion, or i shall scarce get my story told as i have promised. and to pave the way for the tale i am to tell, i must needs talk for a while about myself, even though this may savour somewhat of self-conceit and vanity. not that i have any cause to be vain of my outward man, as i will incontinently show, for i have been malformed and somewhat of a hunchback all my life; and if the word i have used is somewhat too strong, at least it is the one i most often heard employed towards me when first i mixed with other lads in taunton town. and i may not deny that i had and always have had a stoop of the neck, and that one of my shoulders is higher than the other, whilst my stature has always been notably less than that of any of the men of my name and race. now this would be very surprising in a family noted for its tall and comely sons and daughters, had it not been for the lamentable fact that in my tender infancy i was overlooked by a witch, or in some sort bewitched, so that from that day forward i began to grow crooked, and never attained the grace or stature which my brothers and sisters inherited as a natural right. and this misfortune befell me in this wise. i was but a babe in arms, i think i was nigh upon a year old, and as fine and comely a child (so at least my mother will have it) as one need wish to see. she had been out to visit a neighbour, and was returning across the moor as the dusk was drawing on; and as ill-luck would have it, her way led her close to the hut where there lived a witch, who went by the name of mother whale--though whether this were truly her name, or whether witches have rightly any names at all, i have not knowledge to say. be that as it may, mother whale was so called by all the country side; and young maids resorted to her to have their fortunes told, whilst the village swains who dared as much would purchase from her small bottles in which she had brewed love potions to win them their sweethearts, or magic draughts to make them strong in feats of courage or skill. she had worked many notable cures on cattle and pigs, as well as on human beings, by her charms and simples, and was held in much repute. nevertheless men feared her not a little also, because that she was without doubt possessed of the evil eye; and when she chose to overlook a man or his possessions, as sure as the sun shone in the sky some grievous harm would happen to him or to them, as had been proved times without number--so all the folks of the place said. my mother felt a great fear when she found herself nigh to this lonely hut so near the day's end, for she had an idea that witches who were fairly friendly and well disposed by day became full of evil purposes at night (which may or may not be true--i pass no opinion on the matter), and she was hurrying by in a great fright, when suddenly the form of the old woman rose from the very ground at her feet. i have heard my mother tell the story many and many a time; and she always maintains that there was nothing to conceal the old woman--not so much as a mound or a tuft of grass--and that she must have sprung out of the bowels of the earth, for there she suddenly was, standing full in front of her; and my mother being already somewhat scared, fell now into such a terrible fright that she dropped me upon a heap of sharp-pointed stones close by (when i ask her if the old woman might not have been concealed behind this heap of stones, she always grows irritable, and tells me not to cavil at her words), and fled for her very life. but inasmuch as the power of a mother's love is a notable thing, and will run many a risk sooner than leave a helpless babe in peril, so it befell that my mother turned back after a while, and even dared to go boldly up to the very hut itself in search of her offspring. the door of the hut stood open as she approached, and by the light of the turf fire she could see what passed within, and a sight was revealed to her which made her heart stand still and curdled the very blood in her veins. for the old woman had actually got me laid across her lap, and was rubbing my back, which was sorely cut and bruised by the stones, with some preparation of her own; and when my mother appeared to claim her child, she looked her over with a glance which made the poor creature shake in her shoes, and chid her severely for dropping a tender babe and fleeing without so much as a backward glance. my mother declares that from that day forward she always knew that harm would come of it; that the witch had overlooked either her or me. and in truth from that time i grew puny and peaked, and when i began to walk (which was not till long after a child should do so) it was easy to see that something was wrong with me. all the place knew that i had been bewitched, and held mother whale responsible, and respected and feared her the more for it; but for my part i often wonder whether it was not the fall upon the stones, for mother whale was always very good to me, and in my lonely childhood i found in her one of my chiefest friends. for my childhood was lonely. i could not work on the farm like my brothers. i was sickly and weak until i grew to be ten or twelve years old. my back would ache for almost nothing, and i was so little use that i was always pushed on one side, or bidden to run indoors out of the way. my sisters were kind to me, and would find me little light household tasks; but the manhood in me revolted from doing "woman's work," and i suppose that is why i became what the neighbours used to call a scholar,--which convinced them almost more than anything else that i had indeed been bewitched. i could write a long history of the joys opened out before me when once i had mastered the mysteries of reading, and could cull from the row of ancient books upon the shelf in the parlour the treasures they contained. but this would be but tedious reading for others. the bible was in itself a perfect storehouse of information, and my mother encouraged me to read it, thinking that it might prove an antidote to the poison of witchcraft which she always believed was working within me. and there were certain godly pamphlets written by persecuted men of past days, showing forth the evils of popery, and claiming for men the rights which protestants have since won for themselves: these i was permitted and encouraged to read, and also "fox's book of martyrs," which had a gruesome fascination for me, the more so as it was illustrated with many a horrid picture of some martyr enduring punishment or death. i was brought up in the fervent conviction that all papists would like to serve us good protestants as these martyrs were being served in my pictures; and not unnaturally i grew up with a pious horror of the very name of popery, and shivered from head to foot when i heard whispers of the popish inclinations of the king, and the unconcealed popery of the duke of york, who was like to be his successor--unless, indeed, the duke of monmouth should turn out to be the king's legitimate son, when all danger of a papist on the throne would cease at once. without therefore pausing to speak of the other books in which i delighted more than in all these godly writings put together--to wit, the immortal dramas of the great bard william shakespeare, and that marvellous conception of mr. john milton's, "paradise lost"--i will pursue the theme just suggested, that of the protestant succession, as men began to call it, meaning the hopes and aspirations of the people of the country, that if the king died without issue by his queen, some way might be found for placing the duke of monmouth upon the throne instead of the dark duke of york, whom men both feared and hated. now it is needless to say much respecting the parentage of the duke of monmouth, for all the world knows that he was the son of lucy walters, a woman of whom little good can be written, and that the king was always supposed to be his father, and indeed gave to him a father's affection; so much so that men hoped he would seek to pass an act of parliament excluding the duke of york from the succession, on account of his religion, and appointing the duke of monmouth to succeed him. this hope was the more fervent in the minds of the people because there were many who declared that the duke was born in lawful wedlock, and that there was in existence a black box containing all the needful proofs of this fact. we in the west country believed in that black box almost as in an article of faith, and every news-letter that came to taunton town was eagerly opened and scanned in hopes of finding in it some precious hint with regard to this matter. but my own interest in the handsome and dashing young duke was of a more personal and particular nature than could have been the case simply from reading books and leaflets and pamphlets, or even from hearing through our uncles on their visits the talk of the towns. and it came about in this wise. i have said before that i was but a puny and sickly child, and that until i grew to be ten years old i had but little health. this was indeed my melancholy condition; for in addition to my crooked spine and lack of muscle, i suffered from time to time from that obscure and painful malady which used to be known as "king's evil," and which was not to be cured by any leech or physician, but only by the touch of the king's hand, or the hand of his lawful successor. some indeed declared that a seventh son could sometimes cure it by touching; but though i was taken more than once to such, i received no good from the touch. it was the seventh son of a seventh son in whom the power was said to lie, and some held that it lay also in the hand of a man who had been hanged; but my mother would never let me try that touch, and so i went on enduring the evil until the day of which i am about to write. i had an aunt in the town of ilminster, one betsy marwell by name, my mother's sister, and a widow of some substance. she having heard of me and my malady, sent one day when i was about ten years old, and bid my mother let me pay a visit to her, for that she knew a great collector of herbs and simples who had had wonderful success in curing all manner of maladies that baffled the skill of the leeches; and she would keep me in her house and doctor me with his preparations, and send me home, she fondly hoped, in better and sounder health than i had when i came. i remember well even now that first visit i ever paid away from my own home, and the excitements of dwelling in a town, and of sitting at table in a parlour with a carpet laid down in the middle, and eating with a fork instead of a wooden spoon as i had always done at home. i remember the grave face and the long beard of the man who came to look at me, and who bid me take many baths with sundry simples thrown in, and use certain ointments of his preparation, and who said that in time i should be sound and whole again. i abode with my aunt two whole months, and it was during that time that the wonderful thing happened to me of which i am now about to write. i had not been long at ilminster before the whole town was thrown into joyful excitement by the news that the duke of monmouth was about to make a progress through the county, staying in the houses of such of the gentry as had accommodation sufficient to receive him and his suite, and allowing himself to be seen by the people, and approached by all who desired it. i soon heard that the house of mr. speke--white lackington by name--was to be one of the places visited. i knew mr. speke by name right well--he and his son-in-law, mr. trenchard, being looked upon in our county as men of great virtue, and stanch to the protestant cause, as in very truth they were, and suffered for it much; and i knew by this time that white lackington house was but the distance of a mile or so from ilminster, and i thought it would go hard but that i would make shift to see the duke when he was there, if i were still with my aunt. indeed when the time drew near there was no difficulty about this, for all the world was agog about the duke, and preparations were being made to admit all those who desired to see him to the park of white lackington upon a certain day; whilst my aunt betsy was as eager as any to see the hero, and before the day arrived she drew me to her side and spoke to me very earnestly. first she examined my wounds, and shook her head over them. to be sure they were better than when i came to her, and some were fast disappearing; but she was not satisfied with the progress i had made, and she said to me with grave emphasis,-- "dicon"--my name, i should say, was richard, but i was never called anything but dicon for many a long year of my life--"dicon, to-morrow, if by any hap you can make shift to do so, get near to his grace the duke, and pray of him to lay his hand upon you and touch you for the king's evil. if he be, as i hold him, the rightful son of our gracious king, his touch will be a cure for you such as none other can help you to. if you can only make shift yourself to touch him in the throng, it will perchance be enough. but let not this chance slip unused. providence, it may be, hath sent it. let the people but know him for the true heir to the throne, and not all the dukes of york ever yet born shall keep him from his own when the right time comes!" whereby it may be seen that my aunt was a woman of spirit, as indeed she proved herself to be in days to come. upon the morrow we, in common with half the good folks of ilminster, set forth for white lackington to see the duke at our ease. he had ridden into ilminster the previous day, to attend divine service in the church; but although i had been well-nigh squeezed to death in the press, i had not succeeded in obtaining so much as a sight of him. but to-day there would be no such crowding and crushing. the wide park land gave space for us to move at ease, and all would be able to look upon the face of one whom they loved, perhaps with scarce sufficient cause. how we huzzahed and shouted, and tossed our caps into the air, when the party from the great house moved across the sunny gardens and came toward us! for my part, i had a most excellent view, for i climbed into the fork of the huge chestnut tree which is one of the notable objects of interest at white lackington, and from my perch up there i beheld the duke, was able to scan his handsome features, to see the smiles that lighted his face, and almost to hear the gracious words he addressed to the people who crowded round him as he moved. fortune favoured me that day; for as the throng about him increased, the duke took up his position beneath the great chestnut tree, and i was able to command a fine view of everything that went on. i was greatly charmed by the gracious manner of the duke, by his kindness to all who approached, and by the friendly way in which he addressed even the humblest who succeeded in reaching him. i was wondering whether my courage would permit me to drop myself suddenly at his feet and ask the boon my aunt had desired, when my way was paved in a curious fashion. a woman suddenly forced her way through the crowd, threw herself on her knees before the duke, touched his hand, and as suddenly disappeared in the throng, before the duke had time to speak a single word or ask the meaning of her approach. "marry, but that is elizabeth parcet," said one of those who stood by; "the poor soul suffers terribly from the king's evil. doubtless she has touched your grace with a view to cure herself of her malady." now hearing those words, and marking the look upon the duke's face, i tarried no longer, but without pausing to think what i was doing or what i should say, i hastily let myself down from my exalted position, and fell on my knees before the duke. "touch me, even me also, your grace!" i cried, clasping my hands together. "i too am a sufferer from that dread malady, and i would fain be made whole." immediately i felt a hand laid kindly upon me, and my face and hands were touched by long white fingers such as i had seldom seen in all my life before. "there, boy," said a kindly voice which i knew to be the duke's. "may thy wish be given thee, and thyself healed of thy malady." bowing and blushing, overcome with confusion now that the thing was done, i made my way out of the crowd, scarce daring to utter the words of fervent thanks which rose to my lips. as i went home in triumph that day, i knew within myself that i was healed, and so i told my aunt and the kind old man who had given me his simples and herbs, and who listened to my eager tale with a smile on his lips. "ay, lad; ay, lad," he said, nodding his head till his long beard waved to and fro, "i doubt not that thou wilt be cured. yet cease not for a while to use my ointment and simples. they cannot harm thee, and may give thee strength and health yet." i promised i would do so, and i kept my word, for that our father had always bidden us do. but it was the touch of the duke's hand that cured me of my malady; that i never doubted at that time, since within a week of receiving it all my wounds were healed, and at once i began to gain such strength and power and vigour as i had not known since the day of my accident. herbs and simples may have a value of their own--i would not take upon myself to deny it; but i was cured of the king's evil by other means than that, and went to my home rejoicing when the time came that i had no further need for my good aunt's care or skill. she shed many tears at parting with me, and bid me not forget her, and come and see her again some day. this i promised i would do when occasion served, and i kept my word, as this tale will show. but we little guessed how and under what circumstances the next visit would be paid, nor how large a part the gay young duke who had touched me for my cure would play in my future life. at home i was received with wonder and joy. of course my parents knew nothing of my adventure at white lackington, for we did not write letters to absent friends, as men are beginning to do now. but when seated at the well-spread supper-table i told them of what had befallen me, they listened with open eyes and mouths agape, and my father, bringing his hand heavily down upon the table, cried,-- "that settles the question. the black box could do no more. the duke of monmouth is our rightful king. hurrah for the protestant duke! down with the papists and with the popish duke of york!" and we all echoed these words with acclamation. our hearts were from that day forward centred in the duke. all this happened in the year , when i was just ten years of age. chapter ii. _my career is settled._ of the next two years of my life i need say little. they passed in a fashion that to me was pleasant and easy enough. i have before explained that i had been a sickly child, and was on this account spared from those duties about the farm which were required of my brothers; and i have said something with regard to my acquirements in the matter of reading, which were then somewhat more rare than they are like to become as time goes on. my father had a small library of books which had been bequeathed to him by a distant kinsman, who could have known but little of his tastes, and in these books i revelled with a delight past the power of expression. whilst at my aunt betsy's house in ilminster, i had also acquired the rudiments of the art of writing and the casting up of accounts and the keeping of books; and when i returned home, i had no mind to let these things slip from my memory. nor was there any need for this, since my father showed no disposition to make use of me upon the farm, having indeed the full belief that i had been bewitched, and that i should bring him ill-luck with the beasts if i went amongst them. nor was the belief in my possession of unlawful powers lessened by an incident which i will forthwith relate, although, truth to tell, i cannot explain it, nor do i think it to be any proof that there is aught amiss with me, or ever was. i believe that dumb beasts may be governed by motives of caprice, even as human beings are, and that they can take likes and dislikes and act upon them as stubbornly as their masters. my father was a breeder and owner of forest ponies, and once in the year they were collected from the moors, where they used to run wild during a great part of the year. the foals were branded, the numbers of the yearlings and two-year-olds counted, and such amongst the rest as were old enough and strong enough for work were taken up and broken in, and sold in the neighbourhood at the various fairs to such as were wanting the like. now it chanced that one of the ponies thus driven in and kept for breaking, soon after my return from ilminster, was a particularly handsome animal. he had a coat as black as the raven's wing, and eyes as large and soft as those of a deer; when he galloped round and round the field in which he was placed, he seemed scarce to touch the ground, and his pace was such that none could come anigh him save by artfulness or coaxing. and he would not suffer so much as a halter to be put upon him, but tossed his head and was off like a lightning flash, and cared not whom he overthrew and maimed as he wrested himself away; so that two of our men had been sorely hurt by him, and the rest began to say that handsome as he was, and valuable as he would prove could we but get the mastery over him, yet he had plainly been bewitched, and was possessed of a devil of malice and wickedness, and to try to tame him would be but labour thrown away. in good sooth, before long people came so to fear him that my father had perforce to say reluctantly that he was past breaking, and must either be sent back to the moor to run wild all his days, or be shot to rid him of the evil fiend within. now when i heard them talk thus i was grieved to the heart, for i greatly admired the beautiful creature, and had more than once stolen into the field when none else had been by, and had coaxed him to come and eat out of my hand, sometimes giving him a bit of bread or a morsel of sugar that i had reserved from mine own breakfast or midday meal, and which he came to look for now as his right. he would rub his nose upon my shoulder, and seemed to like the feel of my hands caressing his ears and his neck. it seemed to me that i could even make shift to put a halter upon him if i tried; but i had never dared to do so hitherto, lest they should say i was spoiling him--it being always thought that i knew nothing of the ways of beasts or how to manage them. nevertheless it was allowed by all that i could ride. not being gifted with the strength of the others for walking, i had been suffered to ride one of the forest ponies from the time i was little more than an infant. i could ride barebacked across country without a qualm of fear, and i had little doubt that if once i could make a spring and place myself upon the back of this unruly pony, i should be able to master him forthwith. well, to make a long story short, and to avoid the appearance of praising myself, i will only say that when all others had given him up, i went to the refractory colt and used my methods upon him. there was no magic in these; that i will swear if need be. but i made the creature fond of me by gentle caresses and endearing words, and when i was sure of his affection i was able to do what i would with him. he scarcely resented the halter when it was put upon him; and though the first time he felt the bit between his teeth he tossed his head and his eyes grew red and angry, yet a few kind words and caresses reconciled him even to this; and he made no plunge or unruly demonstration when i gently clambered upon his back for the first time, talking all the while and praising him for his docility. i think he looked upon it as another form of caress, and he held his tail and head high as he set to trot with his burden around the field, his long elastic stride seeming to scorn the earth he trod on, and sending thrills of delight through his rider; for methought it was like the action of one of those winged steeds from phoebus' chariot, of which i had read in one of my books. erelong blackbird--for so i came to call him from his colour and his easy pace, which always made me think of flying--would carry me whithersoever i wished, and would follow me about the farm like a dog. i always looked to him myself within the stable, feeding him with my own hands, and bringing him water in the pail from the clearest spring. indeed not one of the men cared to approach him, even though he was presently cured of his trick of giving a sly kick to any who passed by. but there was a look in his eye (so at least they said; i never saw it) which bespoke the devil within; and some of the men looked askance even at me, and would whisper, when they saw me tending and caressing my favourite, that it was plain there was a pair of us. even my father did not quite like it, though he made me a present of blackbird, and was always rather proud of the conquest i had made. certainly the possession of this light-footed steed all mine own (and he would suffer none else to mount him even when he had grown tame within stable walls, so that i had the exclusive use of him and all his great strength) added not a little to my happiness and health during the two years which followed my visit to ilminster. with my books and some food in a wallet at my back, i would start off with the first freshness of the morning, and ride to one of those favourite solitary haunts of which blackbird and i came to have many. then turning him loose--for he would always come at a call or a whistle, and indeed seldom strayed far away, having come to guard me almost as a dog guards his master--i would set to study might and main at those arts of caligraphy and calculation which i was so wishful to acquire. moreover, i would also declaim aloud from one of my books, reading out the words loud, and striving to give each its due weight and meaning, as my aunt betsy had taught me to do when she made me read to her. and never was boy happier than i all through the long days of summer and the mild sunshiny ones of spring and autumn. i was so hardy by this time that only severe cold drove me within doors; and there was always a warm corner in the ingle nook where i could sit at ease. as for my sisters, when they had time to do so, they were glad enough for me to read to them out of my immortal shakespeare, explaining as well as i could the meaning of all i read, and awakening by degrees within them so great a respect for my learning that i found myself at last in the way of being quite famous in our parish. this fame of mine gained for me another advantage, which was the interest taken in me by our parson, who came sometimes to overlook my self-imposed tasks, and who of his own accord taught me the axioms and some of the lore of euclid, and set my brain all in a ferment to puzzle out the propositions in the little brown volume he lent me. i never, however, became a mathematician of any note, since these studies were destined to be speedily interrupted; but much of the last winter spent at home was given to the scrawling of lines and circles upon the hearth-stone with a fragment of charcoal, and my brain certainly grew in those days, and i was conscious of a widening of my mental horizon such as it is impossible to explain in words. but soon a great change came into my life. it was a beautiful mild day in may. i had been out with blackbird as usual, and riding homewards in time for the supper, i saw our uncle john from taunton standing in the yard with father. our uncle john was a favourite with us all, and i was well pleased to see him. he had always news to tell of what was going on in the world, and i had begun to desire to know more of this than was possible in our quiet life upon the farm. so i threw myself off blackbird's back with haste and ran up with my greeting. "hey, dicon lad, but thou hast mended wonderful for the better since i saw thee last!" cried uncle john. "we shall make a man of thee yet, i take it, hunchback or no. what has come to thee, lad?" "i was touched for the king's evil by our gracious duke," i answered with enthusiasm, "and since i have been whole from that malady, i have grown in strength and soundness every way. tell me of the duke, mine uncle. where is he? what does he? and how goes it with him? will he be king after his father? when will the black box be opened and the truth anent him be brought to light?" my uncle smiled as though he knew more than he would say, but he put his finger to his lips as if to impose caution. "hist, boy, it is not well to wear the heart always on the sleeve. the days we live in are something too full of peril. there be wheels within wheels and plots within plots of which we simple country folks know little. walk warily, and wait till the right moment comes; that is what men in these days have to do." i was disappointed at the caution of the answer; nevertheless my uncle did tell us something of the movements of the duke during the past year. he had made another "progress" through cheshire and the more northern portion of the kingdom, and this progress had been very jealously regarded by the court party. the duke of york was always the enemy of monmouth, as was perhaps natural, and the king, who loved them both, had often an evil time of it between them. sometimes monmouth seemed in the ascendant, sometimes his black-browed uncle; and the plots and machinations of scheming courtiers and ambitious statesmen were without end. i grew bewildered even trying to follow uncle john's talk about all these fine nobles, whose names i scarcely knew. but when he pulled out from his capacious pocket two or three old "news-letters," as they were then called, and asked if i could read them, i soon became absorbed in the contents to the exclusion of all besides; for anything new to read was as an elixir to me. and when our father and uncle were smoking their pipes, and mother and the girls washing up and putting away, i began reading loud to them the most interesting bits of news that i could find, quite unaware that uncle john had ceased to talk with father, and was staring at me open-eyed. at last he broke into speech. "by the lord harry," he exclaimed (a favourite expletive of his), "the boy reads like a parson! where did he learn it all?" "he has always been a scholar," answered mother, with some pride; "that is what i say to them that pity his crooked back. he has a better head than the best of them. he will be a fine scholar in time.--dicon, go get thy writing-book, and show thine uncle what thou canst do." aunt betsy had given me a neat book full of blank paper, and i had taken pains to write my best themes and most lengthy calculations and cipherings into it. i showed it to my uncle with some pride; and as he turned the leaves i saw him look astonished, impressed, and almost triumphant, and i wondered not a little what could be in his mind. "why, boy," he cried, looking up at me at last, "canst add up rows of figures like that, and bring the right total at the end?" "i trow i can, uncle," i replied with some confidence; for by this time i knew that i could trust myself to get the right answer however long the sum might be. "set me down a sum and i will show you. i can reckon in my head too, and i seldom make an error." well, not to be tedious in telling all this--for i find it hard to know just how much to say and how much to leave unsaid in this history--it appeared at length that our uncle's inn in taunton was becoming so well patronized by all sorts and conditions of men, that he knew not how to find time to keep his books as well as to entertain his guests; and since neither his wife nor his daughter had any skill with the pen, he was looking about him for somebody whom he could trust to relieve him of those laborious duties of book-keeping which he had hitherto managed to overtake himself, though at the cost of much time and labour. seeing my aptitude at figures, and hearing my fluency at reading aloud, he had been seized with the idea that i should be valuable to him. many and many a time had he wanted the weekly news-letter read aloud to his customers and guests in an evening; but there was no one with skill enough to make it intelligible thus read. he could read to himself, but had no courage to declaim it to others. then if only he could have my pen at command during the evening, he could enter easily and rapidly into his books the outgoings of the day, and have bills made out when need was without trouble to himself. like many men of his class, he had a marvellous memory for figures, and could keep a whole day's reckoning in his head without effort; but the trouble of writing it down afterwards was great, and to be spared that labour he would give much. then he was proud that any nephew of his should possess such talents as i did, and he roundly declared to my father that it would be a sin and a shame to keep such a boy at a farm, where he could learn nothing but what he could teach himself. in taunton there was a free school to which he would send me by day, to learn all i could there with boys of my own age; whilst in the evening i should aid him with his books, and read the news-letter to such as desired to hear it, or amuse the guests of the better sort by declaiming to them some of those scenes from shakespeare or milton which i had now by heart, and which my mother made me recite to my uncle to show how clever i was. it may well be guessed how excited i was whilst this matter was being discussed over my head. of course no question was asked of me as to my own disposition in the matter. it was a thing for my father and mother to decide as they would; and when my mother argued my lack of health and strength of body, my uncle laughed at her, and said i was full strong enough for him; whilst my father remarked that schooling for a few years would be a grand thing for me, since i should never make a farmer, lived i all my life on the farm, but that in taunton town i might rise by my wits to some post such as that of clerk, or schoolmaster, or even parson, and it might be a fine thing for me in the end. uncle john was very liberal in his offer to my parents. he said he would feed and clothe me, give me a groat from time to time for myself, and send me regularly to school for the first year at least, and probably for two years, till i had learned as much as was needful, and then they would see what my future career should be. uncle john had no son to succeed him in the business, only a daughter, who was likely to wed a son of mr. hucker the serge-maker, and that son was more like to take to serge-making than to inn-keeping. a hint was given that if i did well and grew to be a help and comfort to my uncle, i might look even to be his successor in the business. certainly that would be a grand opening for one who had always been looked upon as likely to do badly in life; and before the talk had lasted an hour, it was settled, to my great satisfaction, that i was to return with my uncle to taunton, and remain in his house as an inmate for at least three years. how eagerly i made my few simple preparations for leaving home; and how i counted the hours until i and my uncle were to start off for his home in the town! ever since my stay in ilminster i had greatly desired a town life. i loved my home in a fashion, but it did not satisfy the cravings of my nature. i felt shut up and out of reach of news there. i missed the heart-beat of a great nation, of which i had been dimly conscious when at my aunt's house during the excitement of the duke's progress, when so many stirring matters had been discussed daily. i was sure that stirring times were coming upon us. i gathered it from my uncle's words, as well as from certain statements made in the news-letter which i had read. i was conscious that there were things of great moment going on in the world of which we country folk knew nothing. i wanted to know more--to be in the thick of the tumult and the strife. little knew i how fully my aspirations would be fulfilled during my residence in taunton, and how fearful would be the scenes upon which i was destined to look in days to come! i was up with the lark upon the following morning; and whilst i was attending to blackbird and diligently grooming off from his sleek sides the last remnants of his winter coat, my uncle came in at the door and stood looking at me with an air of approval. "so you know how to groom a horse as well as how to read a book?" he said. "that is a pretty pony you have there. i never saw a better made animal. he will be a fine fellow to go, i take it; and a rare weight-carrier, if my eye does not deceive me. how old is he?" "five this spring, and he can go like the wind. he's been broken these two years; but he will not let any ride him save me. uncle, may i take him with me to taunton? if he goes not with me, he must be turned loose to forget all his breaking, and be a wild thing again; for he will not suffer any rider on his back save me only." uncle john made me tell all the story of blackbird's refractory youth and of my success with him, and at the end gave a cordial assent to my request to take my favourite with me. "to be sure, boy, to be sure. you will want something to ride even in the town. there is many an errand i shall send you now which i have had to do myself hitherto. you know something of fat beasts and milch cows, i take it, else you are scarce your father's son; and if you know not how to drive a bargain yet, uncle john will soon teach you!" at that we both laughed, and i felt already as though raised to man's estate by being thus addressed by my uncle. the taking of blackbird to taunton town made my departure from home a matter of much less regret to me; for the distance being less than seven miles, and blackbird making nothing of my weight or of that distance, i could when occasion served pay ready visits to my father's house, notwithstanding the fact that the road was in evil plight, as was the fashion with roads then (a matter which time has seen considerably amended, and may amend even more as coaches seem to grow more and more in favour), and highwaymen made travelling ofttimes dangerous, even for such as owned but small worldly wealth. how well i remember our start on that bright may morning! blackbird seemed to partake of my joy, and held his head proudly, whisked his long tail to and fro, and arched his neck and looked so proud and gay withal that my uncle kept regarding him with approving eyes, and more than once remarked, "thou shouldst teach him to turn a lady's palfrey, nephew dicon, and he would put a pretty penny in thy pocket!" but i thought i preferred the feel of my eager steed between my knees to any gold in my purse. blackbird and i had been comrades and friends too long for the thought of parting with him to have any attractions for me. i patted his glossy neck, and was glad his exclusive preference for me would brook no other rider. as we galloped across the moorland that day, making wide circuits from the road in our exuberance of spirit, and returning to join my uncle's sober roadster when we had had our fill of motion and fresh air, he would give an approving nod and say, "fine pony that; and you know how to ride, boy. when you go a-wooing it had better be on horseback. pity one can't sell the steed! he would fetch a pretty price. we'll see, we'll see! maybe he will learn sense in the air of a town." i had once spent a night at my uncle john's inn, on the occasion of my journey to ilminster. although living so near to taunton as we did, i had never been in the way of going thither. my mother loved not towns and their ways; and though i had liberty to scour the country round at will on blackbird, i was always bidden to keep to the open country, and never to extend my excursions to either of the towns within reach of us. so that after we had passed volis cross and descended the hill, the country was almost strange to me, and i eagerly demanded the name of every house and hamlet we passed, until my attention was completely absorbed by our entrance into taunton itself. that fine town, which will always be the queen of towns to me, was looking its best and gayest upon that brilliant may evening. the clocks were chiming six as we rode across the bridge into north street, and it seemed to me that there must be something going on; for the town was plainly _en fête_--the streets decked with garlands, and the people saluting each other with the gayest of gay greetings, as though all hearts were in tune for merriment. "what is it? what does it mean?" i asked of my uncle; and he looked surprised at the question as he replied,-- "why, boy, dost live so nigh to taunton and not know that to-morrow is the eleventh day of may?" i certainly knew that, for i had a calendar of mine own, and studied it with care; but why taunton should be so joyful on that account i did not know, and my puzzled face said as much. "why, boy," he said again, "thee such a scholar and not to know how the good folks of taunton suffered and starved when holding the town for the parliament against that villain goring, who sought to win it back to its allegiance to a traitor king? hast never read that page of history, nor how it was relieved on the eleventh day of may? well, that is why we keep the day with garlands and songs and rejoicings, as thou wilt see to-morrow. marry, they say that the king likes it not well, and our mayor looks sourly on our sports, and threatens us with penalties if we are thus disloyal to the monarchy. but the people will e'en go their own way. the king has done his part to gain their ill-will, as doubtless thou wilt learn in good time. where are our stately walls that once held at bay the thousands of a false king's troops? where are many of the noble buildings and commodious houses which once adorned the eastreech and east street? he has worked his will on them. he has destroyed and ravaged at pleasure. but the mind and the heart and the will of the citizens are not his. if he takes away our charter (which he did, though we have it again now), he wins not the love of the people. we give him loyal and liege service, but we do not give him love and trust." my uncle's face was rather grim as he spoke thus, and i understood that i had come to a place where the divine right of kings, in which i had believed until now, was not greatly regarded. the story of the nation had not formed one of my studies. i knew little enough of the events of the past century, albeit my father had lived through the great civil war, and had seen some fighting, though holding aloof from it himself. i had not thought much of anything save the position of the duke of monmouth, and the hope that he would one day be king. as i rode through the streets of taunton and saw the decorations being put up for the morrow, i felt indeed that a new life was opening before me, and that i was now to learn many things which hitherto had been but names to me. chapter iii. _my new home._ "the eleventh of may was a joyful day, when taunton got relief; which turned our sorrow into joy, and eased us of our grief. "the taunton men were valiant then in keeping of the town, while many of those who were our foes lay gasping on the ground. "when colonel massey, of the same, did understand aright, he, like a man of courage bold, prepared himself to fight. "with that our soldiers one and all cast up their caps, and cried, 'what need we fear what man can do, since god is on our side?' "long time did goring lie encamped against fair taunton town; he made a vow to starve us out, and batter our castle down. "within our castle did remain (a garrison so strong) those likely lads which did unto our parliament belong. "before daylight appeared in view, the news to them was come that goring and his cursèd crew were all dispersed and gone. "but who can tell what joy was there, and what content of mind was put into the hearts of those who'd been so long confined? "our bread was fourteenpence per pound, and all things sold full dear; which made our soldiers make short meals and pinch themselves full near. "our beer was eighteenpence per quart (as for a truth was told), and butter eighteenpence per pound to christians there was sold. "the cavaliers dispersed with fear, and forced were to run, on the eleventh of may, by break of day, ere rising of the sun." it was with the words of this song, chanted by a number of voices in the street below, that i was awakened upon the first morning of my residence in my new home. i had slept profoundly, despite the excitements of my arrival; and when i awoke suddenly, roused by the sound of this unfamiliar chant, it took me some moments to recollect where i was, and to convince myself that i was not dreaming still. the moment that memory returned to me i sprang out of bed, and putting my head out of the open window, tried to obtain a view of the singers below. but this i was unable to do, as i might have known had i taken pains to consider. my room was high up in the quaint old inn, which even in my youth was accounted an old house. it looked upon the court-yard behind, where the stables lay, and where hostlers were already passing to and fro. i remembered well that i had observed this last night, and that i had also remarked with satisfaction how my window was provided with a little wooden balcony, of which the house had many. it was in an angle of the building above the stables, and not in the main block of the house where the guests were lodged. near at hand, and at right angles, rose the walls of another house, which i could see was not a part of the inn. it did not look so old, and it was more like a gentleman's private residence, i thought. all the windows were close curtained, and i could not gather anything as to the character of its inhabitants. it seemed passing strange to me then that houses should be thus locked together; and i was calculating with what ease i could make shift by the aid of a water-pipe to get in at the window of this house were it left open, and possess myself of anything the room contained, when the sound of an impatient neigh from the yard below warned me that time was getting on, and that blackbird was probably still unfed (for i had warned the men not to go to him at first, save in my presence), and that he was asking for his breakfast as plainly as though he could utter human speech. i, too, was in a great hurry to be up and doing, and to see some of the wonders of the town of which i was in future to be a resident. in a few moments i was dressed (words of the song below still floating up to me clearly enough, and getting fixed in my memory, as all words with rhyme and rhythm have a trick of doing), and was ready to try to find my way down the curious stairways and along the intricate passages i had traversed last night under the guidance of my cousin meg. it was not so easy as i expected, but as yet nobody in that part of the house was stirring. it was still very early, for all that the sun was shining brightly; and i had blackbird fed, and was ready and eager to be out in the streets before there was any sign of my uncle or aunt to be seen. however, my impatience was too great to be stayed by any thought of a rebuke later, and plunging under the archway which led from the street to the yard, i found myself in the open space where east street and fore street join, and looked about me with a lively curiosity, wondering where i should go and what i should do. the singers were no longer in sight; they had passed on, and the wide streets were almost empty. but as i stood looking admiringly about me, a boy of about my own age came swinging along with a parcel under his arm, whistling the very tune i had heard set to the words i have just quoted. i looked curiously at him, and he returned my glance with interest. no doubt he was familiar with most of the faces of the towns-folk in these parts, and wondered who i was. perhaps my crooked back attracted his notice, but i did not think of that then, and noting that he half paused as though not unwilling to speak, i wished him good-morning, and he returned the salutation. there was something so bright and friendly in his smile as he did so that i found courage to say, "are you going somewhere? may i go with you?" "why, yes, if you like," he answered readily. "i am going to my work. i am apprenticed to master simpson of high street. if you know aught of taunton, doubtless you have heard of him." "but i do not. i only came hither yester-e'en with mine uncle. i am nephew to john snowe of the three cups yonder. i am to dwell with him, and go to the free school here. i would fain know all i can of taunton town. it is a right fair city. i like it well." "and you have come on a good day!" cried my new friend, with brightening eyes. "to-night, so soon as the sun be down, we shall light a great bonfire in paul's fields, and all the town will be there to see. ah! i would i had lived in the days when taunton town held for the parliament against king charles! but it may be even yet that we may some of us live to see fine doings and hard fighting; for if the king dies before his brother, and the papist duke of york sits upon the throne--" the lad paused as if struck by the magnitude of the thought within him, and i glanced round to be sure we were not overheard, and asked with keen interest, "well, and what then?" "why, then, methinks there would be hard blows struck for the rightful heir, the young duke of monmouth," answered the boy, with sparkling eyes. "all taunton and the west country would rise for him, as they rose for the rights of the nation against the king's father. the poltroons of london may lick the dust before a papist usurper, but not we of the free west country! we will know the reason why before we bow to a papist, be he never so much the king's brother!" the boldness of this boy astonished me greatly, and also his evident comprehension of the burning questions of the day, with which i myself was but imperfectly acquainted. my heart always warmed within me at any mention of the duke of monmouth, and i eagerly plunged into the story of my own miraculous cure at the hands of his grace--a tale to which my companion listened with kindling eyes. "marry, but thou shalt come with me and tell it to my master!" he said, as i ended. "if proof were lacking, there it is; for none save a lawful king or his lawful heir can cure the king's evil. there will be a ready welcome for thee at master simpson's. he is one that is bound heart and soul to the cause of the duke." "and what is thy name?" i asked, as i willingly allowed myself to be led whither my comrade would. "will wiseman is my name, and i be apprenticed to master simpson, as i have said. i dwell beneath his roof; but yester-eve i visited my aunt in the north street, and tarried with her till dawn. thou sayest thou art nephew to master snowe of the three cups? he is a good man, one of our capital burgesses; and we take it he would be stanch to the good cause if the time should come for men to declare themselves." i was considerably impressed by will's way of talking. it was as though he were living in a world of which i knew almost nothing; as though he were looking forward to something definite and expected, whilst to me the future was absolutely blank and vague. i felt my ignorance so great that i did not know so much as how to frame questions; but i was saved the trouble of doing this partly from the eager talk of my companion, partly from our speedy arrival at our destination. for soon after we had passed the bend in high street, where it turns sharp to the right toward shuttern, will paused before a door with a right goodly sign hanging above it; and after obtaining entrance, began quickly taking down the shutters, in which office i gave him what assistance i could, so that soon the bright light of morning was streaming into the interior of the shop. so soon as this was the case i stood open-mouthed in admiration and wonder, for i had never seen so goodly a shop in all my life before. master simpson must be a man of much substance--so much i could see at a glance--and his wares were beautiful to the eye and delicate to the touch. there were bales of costly silk set in a mighty pyramid in one place; and cloths and lawns, and the good serge manufactured in taunton town, disposed with a simple eye to effect, in due order along shelves and in the large window. and besides all these things, there was an inner shop, visible through an archway, in which i saw a sight that made my mouth water; for there were shelves, guarded by wire doors, in which hundreds of books were arranged in tempting order--books new and books old--a sight that drew me like a magnet, so that i forgot will and his work, forgot the strangeness of the house and my lack of manners, and went straight to the book-cases and began reading the names of the volumes one by one, speaking them half aloud without knowing it. i was aroused by feeling a strong hand laid upon my shoulder, and by the sound of a friendly voice in my ear. "hey, but we have a scholar here, in good sooth! so thou art nephew to good master snowe, will tells me; and hast been touched for king's evil by our gracious duke? now, boy, tell me all about that, and how the cure was made, and i will give thee a book for thy pains; for it may be that this cure of thine shall be a notable thing in the annals of the day that be coming." the speaker was plainly the master of the house and shop. he was soberly habited, as became his condition in life; but he had a strong face as well as a strong hand and voice, and i felt drawn towards him i scarce knew why, and told him my tale very gladly, with the story of my own brief and uneventful life to boot. he listened with attention, nodding his head the while. heaven forgive me if i did amiss. i had no thought to deceive him or others, but i spoke no word of the man of herbs and potions, nor of the ointments i had been using for my wounds ere ever the duke's hand touched me. in good sooth, i had scarce ever thought of him and his simples since. never for a moment did i believe that these had had anything to do with my cure. it is only long since, when i have heard from others how in nature there be such marvellous cures for human ills to be found by those who have skill and faith to seek them aright, that i have wondered if perchance it was the herb baths and ointments, and not the touch of the duke's white hand, that made me whole and sound. but in those days no such thought ever came to me. i had well-nigh forgotten the kind old man with his long beard, and of him i spoke no word; only telling how weak and ill i was and had been from childhood, and how soon after i had besought the duke to touch me i became sound and whole, and had no return of the evil, which none but such a one as he could cure. master simpson heard me with great satisfaction, and kept his word right generously, making me the proud and happy possessor of a small copy of "�sop's fables," with the latin on one side of the page and the english on the other--a treasure that in those days was even more costly than it has become now, and which in spite of its shabby binding was looked upon as of exceeding worth. "thou hadst better learn the latin tongue, an thou hast the chance at the free school," said master simpson. "learning is a grand thing, and will be a mighty power in the days to come. learn all thou canst, boy, when thou art young. the time may come when thou wilt not have the leisure; make the most of that leisure now." i was well disposed to carry out that sage advice, being greedy after knowledge, and i almost longed to run away then and there to study my book, and see if i could make out aught of the strange latin words. even the possession of such a book made me feel almost a scholar. but i could not refuse the invitation of master simpson to come and take breakfast with him, albeit my uncle and aunt might well be wondering what had become of me. but, as i reflected, the hostlers would tell him i had risen and gone abroad, and upon this festive holiday i did not think i should be chidden for my early walk. behind the shop was a pleasant parlour, and behind that again a kitchen, from whence a savoury odour proceeded. it gave one an appetite even to scent it, and i was nothing loath to follow the mercer into that same kitchen, where a goodly fire burned on the hearth, and a merry-faced young maiden was flitting about setting trenchers on the table, and humming a gay ditty the while. she made a reverence as we came in, and her father (for she was none other than the master's daughter) gave her a blessing; after which he turned him to a portly dame who was taking a steaming pot from the fire, and bid her good-morn, telling her my name and state, and how i was come to taunton to make a scholar of myself. from the likeness which showed itself between the pair before me, i felt assured that they must be brother and sister, as was indeed the case. master simpson was a widower, but his sister kept house for him, and played a mother's part to the young eliza, who gave her almost a daughter's love. it was pleasant to see so much affection between those of a household, for at home, albeit we all loved each other well, it was not our fashion to show it; wherefore it seemed pretty to me to watch the sly caresses which eliza would bestow upon her father, or the way in which mistress susan's glance softened when she addressed herself to the maid. will wiseman and a young man who served in the shop, but who spoke no word and gave himself only to making a right royal meal, sat at table with us, though somewhat apart; and ever and anon will would put in a word when his master turned to him with a question. he plainly heard and gave heed to everything that passed, with a keen intelligence that was shown in the glance of his eye and in the ready way in which his words came when he had occasion to speak. i took a great liking to will from the first moment of our acquaintance, and everything i noted about him increased the good-will i bore him. we had a merry meal, and i told the story of my cure yet once again that day. lizzie's eyes brightened at the tale (eliza was always called lizzie both at home and abroad, since it appeared that there were many elizas in the town, and confusion apt to arise), and she clasped her hands together and cried,-- "faith, but miss blake will greatly rejoice to hear this! i will tell her forthwith, and i warrant me i shall be high in favour all the day for the same story. good dicon, thou wilt be a rare favourite in taunton town an thou dost uphold here the rights of our well-loved duke!" "hist, lassie!" answered her father, yet smiling nevertheless. "it behoves us to talk with care even in taunton town. let not such words be heard by the rev. mr. axe, nor still less by mr. blewer. the duke hath his foes as well as his friends within the town. we must not hurt a good cause by over-zeal ere the right moment comes." lizzie laughed, and asked with a pretty, saucy air who would trouble to take note of the words of such an obscure maiden as herself; and then she looked at the clock and sprang up, and said she must even go, or she should be late, and miss blake would chide. and i then learned that miss blake was the mistress of the school where this maiden went daily for instruction, and moreover that it stood adjoining my uncle's inn, and must indeed be the house i had been wondering about in looking from my windows on awakening this very morning. so on understanding this much, i sprang up and asked leave to escort pretty lizzie to her school; and soon we were walking along the garlanded streets, and she was telling me how greatly miss blake and mrs. musgrave loved the duke, and how dear his cause was to the hearts of the people of taunton. i also learned that miss blake and mrs. musgrave were two ladies of virtue and learning, and that they had each kept a school for girls in the beginning, but had now joined these two seminaries into one. miss blake took the younger maidens, and mrs. musgrave the elder ones; and my companion chattered so fast about her companions, telling me their names, ages, and accomplishments with such fluency, that i was quite bewildered; and the only item of information which i retained in my head was that there was one, mary mead, a youthful heiress, some years older than any of her companions, who had been educated by mrs. musgrave, and still remained in her charge, although since she was now of marriageable age it was likely that her condition in life would speedily be changed. we parted the best of friends at the door of the seminary, where some other maidens were assembling, who looked curiously upon me as i took off my cap and made my best bow to them all. the door of the school was a few paces round the corner, and the house was of fine proportions. i well understood as i looked at it--lizzie and her companions having now disappeared within--how it was that my room over our stable buildings approached so nigh to it. i felt a good deal of interest in the close vicinity of these bright-faced town maidens, who seemed so different from the country girls i had lived amongst hitherto. not that i would disparage mine own sisters and their friends; but there were a brightness and ease of manner and readiness of wit amongst these damsels which dazzled and captivated me, and which i had never seen at home. when i got back to the inn, i found breakfast well-nigh done; but i received no chiding for my absence, especially when i said whither i had been and with whom. master simpson was plainly a notable man of good repute in taunton, and a friend of mine uncle's to boot. my uncle, too, was pleased at the gift of the book which i had received, arguing that master simpson must have thought well of my scholarship. i read him two or three of the fables; whereat he laughed not a little, and bid me hold myself in readiness to amuse his guests therewith on another occasion. i was not to go to school till the following week, and to-day i had leave to wander whither i would, to see what i could and what i most desired, and enjoy the merry-making of the town. my cousin meg, a fine buxom lass of nigh upon twenty summers, was all agog to go with me; and i was proud enough to have such a companion. so after i had helped her with her dishes and so forth, being skilled in many feminine tasks through helping my mother at home when she and the girls were pressed, she donned her holiday gown and gayest hood--and well she became them both, as i failed not to tell her--and i put on my best clothes, which seemed to me fine enough even if somewhat lacking in the grace and fashion i saw in some of the towns-folk of the better sort; and forth we sallied to see the sights of the town, and to enjoy any revelry that might be going. the best of the merry-making would be towards evening, when the shops would close, and the apprentices and shopmen be free to join; but even now there was plenty to see and to admire. the fine proportions of the streets and public buildings filled me with a great wonder; and when we dived down a passage past huish's almshouse, and came out in front of st. mary's church, i stood still and silent in speechless admiration, marvelling at its wondrous beauty and lofty dignity, and asking of myself whether st. paul's itself in fair london town could be as goodly a sight. it so chanced that service was going on, and nothing would serve me but that i must go in and hear what it was like. meg was willing enough to gratify me: for from being bred a dissenter, like the majority of the towns-folk, she attended the services of the dissenting flock in paul's meeting sunday by sunday; and the offices of the establishment, which she was wont to hear stigmatized as "popish," were quite unfamiliar to her, and had therefore a certain fascination. there were two clergymen taking part in the service; and when we were in the street again, meg said to me (interrupting my raptures about the architectural beauties of the place),-- "he with the grey hair peeping from beneath his wig is mr. axe. he is much beloved in taunton, although men say that he is an enemy to the duke of monmouth, and tells men freely that he can never be lawful king, but that if the king dies childless, as seems like, we must submit to see the duke of york upon the throne--a thing which is abhorrent to the minds of many. yet in spite of this he is loved and trusted. but the other, mr. blewer, is hated and feared. i scarce know why we all think so ill of him, but he hath a cruel face and an evil eye; and some say that he is the bitter foe of all who follow not the teachings of the established church, whilst there be others who call him a papist at heart, and say that when the duke of york is king (if ever such a day comes, which heaven forbid!) he will show what manner of man he is, and evil will fall upon many in taunton through him." "he has a bad face and a cruel mouth," i answered, having studied his face with a sense of reluctant fascination for which i could not account as i knelt in the church. could it have been that some presentiment of his cruelty stole over me even then? i know not how that may be, but i do know that though my hair is now grey, and though i have lived beyond the allotted span of man's days, i cannot even now think of that miscreant without a tingling of the blood in my veins such as i seldom experience for aught besides. that day was a notable one in my life, although it seems like a dream now. i looked upon the outside of many a noble building--st. james's church; paul's meeting, which i was to worship in for a time; the castle; the free school, which i was to know right well erelong; and the almshouses, which had been erected by the charitable in bygone years for the benefit of the aged poor. the town was all bedecked with flags and garlands, and the bands of singers went about chanting their ditties, receiving rewards from many of the richer and more prosperous of the towns-folk, as well as the humbler, who were all so devoted to the cause of what they termed "liberty and right." in the evening there was a grand bonfire in paul's field, and another in priory fields at the other extremity of the town. will wiseman and i joined forces, and rushed from one to the other, getting an excellent view of both; and we danced around the fire with the best of them, and hooted for the duke of york and the pope, and shouted for the king and the duke of monmouth, until at last we had no voice left wherewith to shout more. when the embers burned low, and the sheriff's officer came to bid the people disperse, we went reluctantly home with the crowd, talking in friendly whispers of the glorious days that perhaps were coming, when we should be able to show the metal of which we were made, and almost ready to wish for the excitements and horrors of another civil war, if only we might bear a share in its glory and its danger. we had heard so many stories from the bystanders who did remember those days, that our blood was fired, and we ardently longed for a repetition of such exciting events. well, we were destined to see something of bloodshed before many years had passed over our heads, and one of us was to shed his blood--as he sincerely longed at that moment to do, but whether in the fashion that came about it is not for me to say here. and so ended my first eventful day in taunton town. chapter iv. _my new life._ if i were to begin to set down in order all the many things that happened to me without and within the town of taunton during the early days of my residence there, i should go far to fill a volume ere ever i had reached the matters of which it is my intention more particularly to speak. so i must strive after all the brevity of a skilled master of the craft of penmanship and story-telling, and seek to skim the cream from the surface of events, without wearying the reader with overmuch detail. let me say, in the first place, that i was very happy in my new life. i was kindly treated by my relatives. i made myself useful to my uncle in many ways, and i was a favourite with his guests, who delighted to hear the news of the day read to them whilst they smoked their pipes at ease, and who were all ready to talk with me when the reading was over, one telling me one bit of public gossip, and another another, till my mind was quite a storehouse of information, and i was able to talk upon almost any subject with the air of one who knew something about it. the reputation for cleverness and knowledge which i soon gained (though in good sooth it was less knowledge than a good memory that i possessed) gave me a small standing of mine own in the place, and i had quite a brisk little business erelong, in writing letters for those who could not do it for themselves, and getting them passed on by trusty hands, by means of some of the many visitors who passed to and fro between our town and other places. my uncle let me keep for myself all such moneys as i gained in this fashion, and so i was able to take home to my mother and sisters presents which made them open their eyes wide in amaze, on the occasions when i mounted blackbird and rode over to my former home. i was looked upon now as a person of some importance; and although only a lad of thirteen summers, i felt as if i should soon arrive at man's estate. i had something to suffer at the free school from the gibes and the envy of the other boys, who liked not to be surpassed at their books by the "hunchback clown"--such was their name for me for a time--and who paid me many an ill turn and played off many a malicious trick, until at last they wearied of it, or i gradually grew into favour, i scarce knew which, and i was let alone to go mine own way. but in spite of all this i was happy in my school hours, for i was learning every day something new; and if the boys misliked me, the masters took good heed of me and favoured my thirst after knowledge, so that i was able to study with zeal and success, and to win the praise of mr. axe, who would come from time to time to hear the boys recite, or to ask them questions from scripture or secular history, and who never left without a word of kindness for me. i came to revere and love mr. axe right well. he was not truly the vicar of beauteous st. mary's church. the vicar, in very sooth, was one mr. hart, who was (so it was told me) also canon of bristol and prebendary of wells, so that he had but scant time to think of his duties here. mr. axe, however, supplied all that was lacking, and was greatly beloved by us--as much beloved as mr. blewer was mistrusted and feared: for we would cross the street to avoid coming within the radius of _his_ basilisk glance; and i for one never saw him without the feeling that he would prove a cruel foe ere we had seen the last of him. now i had scarce been a month at my uncle's house before a great excitement befell us, and a great fear fell upon many of our towns-folk; for it was rumoured that this thing would lose the duke of monmouth his head, and that even if his life were spared he would have to fly the country, and be no more seen in this land. and the reason for this rumour, which filled all somersetshire with sorrow, was the discovery of a vile plot against the life of the king and that of the duke of york, which wicked and slanderous tongues were eager to charge upon the virtuous and high-minded duke of monmouth. well do i remember the day when first the news of this infamous plot, which came to be called the rye house plot, reached the good citizens of taunton. it was upon a sunday morning, and i, together with my uncle and aunt and his daughter meg, had started forth for paul's meeting, which we always attended for morning service, when we noted that the people in the streets had an air of gravity and anxiety which was not usual, and that all seemed to be asking questions one of another, although none seemed to be ready with an answer. now generally we were the first to hear any news that might reach the town, because that travellers were wont to put up at the three cups rather than at the other hostelries, which were less beliked than our house. but to-day there had been none arrival, and my uncle stopped to ask the first acquaintance he encountered what was the meaning of the general discomposure. now it chanced that this acquaintance was none other than heywood dare--"old dare," as he was often called, less perhaps from his actual years than because he had a son who was also a notable man in his way, and who had a part to play in the days that were coming. now old dare had a story of his own, and was a great man in taunton. he was by trade a goldsmith, and a man of substance to boot; but it was not his wealth that had gained for him the repute in which he was held, but his courage and devotion to the cause of liberty and justice. it was one of the grievances of the times that the king would not permit parliament to sit sometimes for long years together. men whispered that he received great sums of money from france, which enabled him to dispense with the summoning of his own loyal subjects to grant supplies. however that may be, the people were grieved and wroth that their assembly was not called and permitted to sit, as they claimed that it had the right to do; and petitions from townships were constantly sent up to his majesty imploring him to call together his parliament, until the king grew greatly incensed, issued proclamations forbidding the presentation of these petitions, and threatening with severe penalties those who went about "getting hands," as it was termed, to put to these documents. indeed many barbarous severities had been put in practice against those who still strove to collect names for such papers; and curious enough were such documents when they were drawn up, for three-fourths of those who "set hand" to them could not write their names, but could only make a mark which was to stand instead of it. now some four years back old dare had got up a notable petition, and it had been signed or marked by half taunton, and by bridgewater and ilminster and many another fair town. the sturdy old goldsmith pursued his way to london with it. it was his intention to deliver it to the king with his own hand; and this intention he carried out, meeting the king hard by the houses of parliament, and presenting his paper on bended knee. the king took it unsuspecting--for it was a bold man who would venture to place one of the abhorred petitions in the royal hands; but on unfolding it he became instantly aware of its nature, and turning sharply upon the offender, he asked him how he dared to do such a thing. "sire," replied the intrepid goldsmith, "my name is dare!" and forasmuch as there is always something noble in fearless courage, and that his majesty is not without nobility of soul, no hurt was done to the bold petitioner, albeit no good that i ever heard of came from his petition. well then, to return to my present tale, it was old dare whom we encountered in the street to-day; and when my uncle asked what the coil was all about, he shook his head and answered,-- "i cannot say with knowledge; but a messenger rode post-haste to the house of the mayor but now, and it was plain, by the stains of travel on him and his horse, that they had been hard pushed to reach the place. it is something of note, i take it, and something of evil, i fear." he lowered his voice and said in my uncle's ear (yet i heard every word, being very keen of hearing), "i fear me it will prove to be some plot to ruin the duke and his council of six. it may be that they have been something rash and forward. i fear me we shall hear bad news ere the day is out." i knew well what was meant by the council of six. the duke of monmouth had some faithful friends, lovers of liberty and constitutional rule--my lord of russell and mr. algernon sydney being of the number--who met together often to discuss what might be done for a country beginning once again to groan beneath the yoke of an arbitrary exercise of the power of the crown. representations had been made to the king, it was said, to summon parliament, and give to the people their lawful voice in the government; but this having proved of none avail, it had been whispered that these men had spoken of another great revolution, such as had cost the king's father his head; and of course such talk was accounted rank treason in those days, and was like to cost many a man his life. now we of the west country in general, and of taunton town in particular, knew very well that if any rising or tumult took place, it would be like enough to be in our neighbourhood; and that, even if we kept ourselves tranquil, we might get the credit of being turbulent, and have our rights infringed, even if our charter were not taken from us, as it had been early in the king's reign, although restored seventeen years later. also, we all of us pinned our chiefest hopes of constitutional government and the protestant religion on the hoped-for succession of the duke of monmouth; and if he were to be implicated in a plot which should cost him liberty or life, our hopes would receive a crushing blow, and nothing lie before us but the succession of a bigoted papist and a man of known cruelty and tyranny. small wonder was it, therefore, that our faces were grave, and that we all looked anxiously at our minister, mr. vincent, as he mounted the pulpit a little after the usual time, and looked seriously upon our upturned faces. he made no attempt at a regular sermon that day, but after giving thanks for the merciful preservation of his gracious majesty the king from a recent and great danger, he proceeded to tell us that a plot had been laid against the king's life and that of the duke of york, and how it was currently rumoured that the duke of monmouth and his friends were concerned in the matter. arrests had been made of certain persons, and the duke had fled and hidden himself. mr. vincent also told us, with great seriousness, that rumour had already been forward to declare that an insurrection had commenced, with taunton as its centre; and counselled us, as we valued the peace of the realm and our own safety, to avoid any cause of offence, and to remain perfectly quiet and tranquil. the time might come in the future when it would be a righteous thing to rise up and strike a blow for the liberty and the faith of the country, but certainly that day had not yet come. the king upon the throne was the rightful one; his rule was on the whole fair and just. there was no quarrel with him. nothing would so injure the righteous cause as a revolt against law and order; nothing would so greatly hurt the cause of the young duke of monmouth. we must show discretion and wisdom at this time, that none might have cause to look with suspicion upon us. this wise counsel from one who was a pillar of strength amongst us was not without due effect. we looked at one another and resolved to abide by mr. vincent's counsel. we knew that our mayor was a bitter enemy to all dissenters, and would fasten upon us an indictment of disaffection if we gave the smallest ground. indeed he took instant action upon hearing of the plot, and called some bands of the militia into the town; and i verily believe that it was with his consent, if not at his instigation, that a deed was done in the town which made us who called ourselves dissenters tingle with rage and feel almost ready to raise the very tumult of which we were altogether innocent in fact. now the thing of which i speak was nothing less than the demolishing of the great chapel called paul's meeting, of which i have spoken, and in which hundreds of citizens met to worship sunday by sunday. and this thing was done, to the great shame of those concerned in it, just when the excitement which i have mentioned prevailed, notwithstanding that mr. vincent and mr. burgess, both of whom preached to us there, were godly men, and taught us submission to lawful rulers, and spoke no evil of dignitaries. the first i knew of this was one evening just before our house generally closed for the night--it was summer then, and not dark till ten of the clock--when will wiseman came rushing into the yard, all bursting with excitement, and crying out to me in panting gasps,-- "dicon, dicon, come and see! come and see! they are pulling our meeting-house to pieces, and say they will make such a bonfire of our pews and pulpit as shall light to bed every dissenter in the county! come and see! come and see! i would not go myself till i had told thee!" will wiseman was certain to be in the forefront of everything; but i had no mind to be left behind. forthwith we both rushed out from the yard, and soon the noise of a great tumult fell upon our ears. in the streets men were gathered together with dark faces and threatening mien, some talking angrily against the dissenters, who, it was declared, had been guilty of plotting against the king's life, but many more holding a stern silence and regarding their enemies with silent hostility; whilst hoarse cries and shouts rent the air, and grew louder and more distinct as we drew near to paul's meeting. once within sight of the building, we saw that it was lighted up from within; and unable to come near to the door for the surging mob around it, we climbed up to one of the windows and looked in. what a sight it was! there were a hundred men inside, i should think, armed with hammers and saws and other tools and weapons; and these were all engaged in hammering, sawing, breaking down, and demolishing the whole of the woodwork in the chapel; and as fast as some pew, or great piece of panelling, or any large fragment of pulpit or gallery was broken off, other men would rush forward and drag it forth from the door, to carry it away into paul's fields, where it was plain that the great bonfire was to be made. and all the while they worked, they shouted out threats against their fellow-townsmen, calling out, "down with all traitors! down with the king's enemies! we will have nothing but the church and the king!" yet many of the fellows now working like furies and shouting out these words had attended many a service in paul's meeting, and were friendly enough towards us, albeit perhaps not men of much personal godliness. but they were carried away by the excitement of the moment, and by the coward fear of getting into trouble with the mayor should they show any lack of zeal. men all over the kingdom were trembling just now in apprehension of arrest; for informers were going about the country, and many a lowly as well as many a noble and high personage was flung into prison on the most trivial charge. to join hands in reviling the dissenters and calling down blessings upon the king and the church seemed the safest way of propitiating the authorities at such a moment; and this was what our towns-folk were now doing, by demolishing our chapel, and showing their zeal towards the court party. it was all very exciting; and though my heart and will's swelled with indignation, we could not help watching till the whole of the building was stripped. then we followed in the wake of the shouting crowd, and soon saw a great pillar of fire rising up from the midst of the assembled throng. as the great mountain of flame rose higher and higher, and waved its crown of smoke and sparks up to the roof of heaven as it seemed, the crowd yelled and shouted and danced around the pyre, bawling out every kind of folly that came into their heads; whilst outside the yelling ring, and a little distance away, stood the stern-faced men who had been wont to worship there, together with the ministers who had occupied the pulpit, and they looked on in silence, and gathered sometimes in groups together. will wiseman, who had the faculty of hearing what everybody said without seeming to listen, whispered to me, "they are saying that they will still meet for preaching and prayer whatever is done to their meeting-house." and so indeed it proved, although the mayor looked stern and dark, and sometimes uttered hints that sounded almost like a threat against "conventicles," as he termed them. indeed he made himself so heartily misliked amongst the towns-folk, that but for the authority and protection bestowed by his office, i think some mischief would have been done him. but though a time of exceeding excitement prevailed for many weeks, there was no rising in the country; and by-and-by we were made glad by the tidings that there had been a reconciliation betwixt the duke of monmouth and the king, although lord william russell and mr. algernon sydney ended their lives upon the scaffold. not that these men had any complicity in the murder plot against the king's life. they had souls far above the treachery and meanness of assassination. but the lesser and more villanous plot of minor conspirators was grafted upon the larger and wider-reaching intentions of these champions of liberty and of rule by constitutional rather than autocratic methods, and they were judged guilty of treason, and were doomed to death. some said that the duke of monmouth had been led by promises of restoration to favour to bear witness against his friends. how that may be i will not say. at this time all taunton was indignant at the aspersion cast upon the fair fame of the gallant young duke, and the story was indignantly discredited, and by no one more hotly than by me. now when my blood is cool, and i have grown wiser and have heard more of those days, i cannot be so sure of the innocence of the duke as i felt then. men are sorely tempted sometimes, and fall into sin almost ere they are aware of it. human nature is weak, and a man may have many faults and many weaknesses and yet be the idol of the people for many a long day. it was at this time that i grew better acquainted with several of the families in taunton. i was in great request when the weekly news-letter came to my uncle's house--he had one of his own as well as that which was brought to the mayor; for, as i have said, the mayor was a bitter enemy to the dissenting portion of the towns-folk, and that was a very large section, as the well-filled building, paul's meeting, bore witness sunday by sunday. foremost amongst my friends i still reckoned master simpson and his family. will wiseman was my chosen comrade on all occasions, and lizzie was the object of my boyish gallantry, and i continued to think her the prettiest and most charming maid in all taunton town. but i must not omit to mention others who had a part to play in the drama that was slowly approaching. of these i must mention the herring family, father and mother, with three daughters, anne, susan, and grace, all of whom attended miss blake's school; and master john hucker, a notable serge-maker, with his daughter eliza; and the hewling family, than which none other was more greatly beloved and esteemed in the whole of the town. mistress hannah hewling was mistress of this happy household. she was a spinster of some thirty years of age, and she played a mother's part to two virtuous and handsome young men, who were at the time of which i am now writing aged twenty and seventeen years respectively. this family had another home in london, where their parents lived, but owned this house property in taunton, too, where these two brothers and their sister lived in the greatest amity and peace. the hewlings were gentry, and people of substance, yet so friendly and kindly disposed towards their towns-folk that we all regarded them as friends. they would stop to speak a friendly word to any one of us in the street, and many were the evenings when they would invite some amongst us to their hospitable house. sometimes there would be music to enliven us after supper--for mistress hannah played both harp and spinnet right sweetly, whilst master benjamin discoursed eloquent music on the flute, and master william could draw strains from his violin that brought tears to the eyes of the listeners before they well knew it--or failing music, some one would read aloud from a godly book, or from some history of past days, and the elder members of the party would be invited to discuss the subject, whilst the rest of us listened in respectful silence, and framed our own opinions on what we heard. it was in this way that i came to understand much of the questions of the day from the standpoint of those who believed the duke of monmouth to be the champion not of freedom and constitutional rule alone, but also of the protestant religion. the things we read about the awful cruelty and treachery of those who were tainted by the curse of popery often made our blood run cold within us; and when it became increasingly certain that the duke of york was papist up to the neck, and would throw off all disguise when once he ascended the throne, it was scarce to be marvelled at that we should fix our eyes upon one who might rise up to be a champion and deliverer, and save us from the oppression of a tyrant and bigot. i was heart and soul with all men who held this view, but i noted often that my uncle would sit mute whilst such talk was going on, and that he was always slow to commit himself to any open opinion. and once when i had grown too excited to hold my peace any longer, and had openly spoken out some of the thoughts that were burning within me, he had taken me to task afterwards, not sternly indeed, but somewhat seriously, and had warned me that i had better learn the art of holding my tongue, and watching the turn of the tide before i launched my bark upon untried waters. "but, uncle," i exclaimed eagerly, "surely you are for the duke?" "i am for the rightful king of the realm, whoever he be," was the cautious answer. "it is not given to us to choose our monarch. god sets kings upon the throne, and bids us submit ourselves to the powers that be. that is my principle, and will be my practice; albeit i should greatly prefer to serve a king of the true faith." i was puzzled by this way of stating the matter, for it was not after such cautious fashion that the greater part of our friends talked; but i began to note as time went by that my uncle was more cautious in many of his ways than were others, and that he made some small changes in his methods and habits. after the rye house plot there was great excitement in the country, and greater efforts than ever were made to force men to attend public worship in the churches of the establishment instead of in meeting-houses of their own. many such meeting-houses and chapels were wrecked (like our own) in various places, and the flocks scattered, so that they could no longer hear their favourite doctrines preached by their favourite ministers, but must either absent themselves from public worship or go to church with the orthodox. now in st. mary's church there was held a grand service of thanksgiving for the safety of the king and the duke of york, and the mayor and burgesses all attended in civic pomp. my uncle went, of course, in his capacity of one of the capital burgesses; but rather to our surprise, he desired that all of us should be present; and from that day forward he regularly attended the parish church, taking his wife and daughter and other members of his household. he gave as his reason for this, that it was right to obey the wishes of the ruling sovereign in so far as it was possible to do so without violation of the conscience, and that so long as good mr. axe filled the pulpit of st. mary's, he could go and hear him with edification and pleasure. i was quite of that opinion myself, used to the order and liturgy of the church, and finding the long extempore prayers at paul's meeting less to my liking than the collects set down in the prayer-book. i was glad to go to church; but i was a little puzzled by my uncle's sudden zeal for submission and orthodoxy. he said nothing that our friends could cavil at, and was hearty and warm towards them as ever; but he seemed to desire to be "all things to all men"--a line of conduct which i was far too young and hot-headed to understand the use of. but i must not omit to mention, in dealing with my early experiences of taunton, the school next door, and the two kindly gentlewomen who conducted it. meg had once been a scholar there, and kept very friendly relations with her mistresses. my aunt, too, was very kindly disposed towards them, and would often send me in with some small delicacy for their supper; and by-and-by i used to be admitted to the parlour where the ladies sat, and was sometimes bidden to take a seat and to tell them some of the gossip of the town. for these gentlewomen seldom stirred abroad themselves, and all their exercise was taken in the old garden behind the house, where the pupils walked or played for an hour in the middle of the day when the weather permitted. as i grew to be better acquainted with them, i was asked sometimes to read awhile whilst they plied their needles; and this reading became such a pleasure to them that by the time the first winter of my stay in taunton arrived, i went in about once a week to read the news-letter after it had been exhausted at the inn, and to tell them all i had gleaned from travellers or from the talk of the towns-folk upon it. it was these readings which introduced me first to the notice of fair mistress mary mead, of whom i had heard upon the very first day of my sojourn in the town, but of whom i had had no thought till i was months afterwards brought into her presence. and i think it behoves me here to explain somewhat of the history of fair mistress mary; for these pages will have a good deal to say of her, and it may be well that it should be fully understood what manner of person she was. her grandfather had been one of cromwell's generals--a man stanch to the side of the parliament; and he had fallen at the siege of taunton, of which mention has been made. his son, mistress mary's father, had been enriched by the spoils of the cavaliers in their misfortunes, and had amassed a considerable fortune. this daughter was his only child, and his wife, who was said to be of a noble royalist family, died in giving her birth. sir thomas mead--for he had won his spurs of knighthood--died when his child was ten years old, leaving her to the guardianship of his friend the earl of lonsdale. sir thomas had trimmed his sails with the times, and had welcomed the king back from exile at the restoration; but it was always supposed that he had not changed his views to any notable extent, and that his daughter had been brought up to glory in the doughty deeds of her grandsire, and to hate and abhor all undue exercise of royal prerogative, and all indications of popery. the girl had been brought up for convenience at the school where the better towns-folk sent their daughters, sir thomas not having yet learned to hold his head higher than the compeers of his father. when the child was left an orphan, lord lonsdale had summoned her to his house, and it was supposed that she would remain beneath her guardian's roof until she married; but some four years later she was suddenly sent back to the care of miss blake and mrs. musgrave, not exactly on the footing of the rest of the scholars, but to remain in their charge as a member of their household, and to observe the same secluded life as they did themselves. various surmises were afloat with regard to this sudden and unusual arrangement. some declared that mistress mary's faithful attachment to her instructors (which was an admitted fact in all quarters) had led to this step, and that it was her own earnest pleadings which had caused her to be sent back. others affirmed that her guardian was alarmed and displeased by her independence of mind and by her revolutionary tenets, and had sent her away in disgrace; but that theory was rather quashed by the improbability of lord lonsdale's choosing miss blake's school as the asylum for a refractory maiden, since both the heads of the establishment were known to be much of the same way of thinking. the third whisper was that lord lonsdale's son, the gallant and dashing viscount vere, had shown such unmistakable signs of falling in love with his father's ward, that lord lonsdale in a great fright (for he had other views of a more ambitious nature for his son) had sent mary away in haste, choosing a place where she was known to have friends and to be happy, and hoping she would shortly relieve him of all embarrassment by selecting a husband for herself. but if this was the case, his choice of a place had hardly been a happy one; for mistress mary led a life of almost nun-like retirement, and had already been four years with her former mistresses without showing any signs of entering into bonds of wedlock. i had heard all these tales and surmises respecting her before ever i was favoured by the sight of her fair sweet face and graceful form. but she came to be present often at the readings, and i learned to think her more exquisitely beautiful every time i saw her. there was a charm in the steady dark grey eyes, the delicate mobile features, and the easy grace of her every movement, which my poor pen has no power to describe. her voice was low and sweet, the sweetest i have ever heard, and the rare laugh was like music. surely had i been a man, and a comely and gallant one to boot, i should straightway have fallen in love with sweet mistress mary mead. and i ceased to marvel at the stories of viscount vere; for even as a child she must have been passing fair, and how could he help loving what was so gracious and so good? but i had no suspicion in those early days what i should be called upon to do for mistress mary mead, nor how great a part i should play in her life's story. chapter v. _i get amongst fine folk._ i have been something remiss all this while in saying no word about my faithful four-footed friend blackbird, who had accompanied me to taunton, and who remained as constant in his attachment to me there as he had done at home, notwithstanding all the blandishments and the praise he received from the hostlers at the inn, and from the travellers and servants who chanced to note him in the stable. i could have sold him again and again for a good round sum had i been so minded, and had he not been so persistent in suffering none other rider than myself to mount him. not that i was ever tempted to part with my comrade; for i was in no need of money, and i found continual pleasure in the journeys of exploration around taunton which i made on blackbird's back. i came in time to be well acquainted with the whole of the surrounding country; and very rich and beautiful country it was, as all men know who are acquainted with our "queen of the west," the name given by taunton men to their beloved city. and in due time the possession of blackbird, and my reputation for riding, brought me employment of which i had never dreamed before. i have spoken of beautiful mistress mary mead, whom i came to regard with a great admiration and reverence. she was like a star in the firmament of my sky--far, far above me, and yet on whose loveliness i was ofttimes permitted to gaze, and who would sometimes give me a kindly smile or a gentle word of praise, which set all my pulses hammering and the blood tingling in my veins. but there was better than this in store for me as the dark cold winter days passed by, and the spring sunshine began to coax forth the shy flowers in the meadows, and to woo the swelling buds to show their tender tints of green and gold. sweet mistress mary had been looking somewhat pale and fragile during the inclement winter, and when the first heat of coming spring filled the air, it seemed to make her languid rather than brisk; so the leech who was called in to see her said that she must take the air without the fatigue of walking, and, in fine, prescribed horse-exercise for her. now in mine uncle's stable was a fair grey palfrey which he had bought for her good looks, and which carried a lady as carefully and softly as it is given to steed to do. as soon then as i heard what was spoken anent mistress mary, i set to work to groom and tend lady jane (for so the palfrey was called by us) till her coat shone like satin, and all the long hair of winter was groomed away. then i led her round to mistress mary to show her how fair a steed she was; and no sooner had she seen her than the wish to mount her and ride out into the open country lanes arose within her heart, and the blood mantled in her fair cheek, and already the medicine seemed like to work. now hanging upon mistress mary's hand, as she came to see lady jane, was a younger maiden whose face was well known to me by this time, and whose rank in life was equal to that of mistress mary, and much above that of those scholars of miss blake's who came to her from the town. belike it was this that made these twain consort much together, as i heard from lizzie that they did. the laughing maid with chestnut curls and dancing blue eyes was one mistress mary bridges from bishop's hull, a goodly house lying west of taunton about a mile away or something over. mistress mary was the only girl out of a fine family of boys. perchance she was like to grow somewhat too much of a boy herself, for it was whispered that she could handle a carbine and shoot straight to the mark, and that she was as bold and fearless as a young lion; so it may be that for this same cause she was sent to miss blake's school, to be educated with mistress mary mead, who was known for an accomplished and right gentle lady. during the inclement months of the winter, the younger mistress mary had dwelt beneath the roof of miss blake's house; but i had heard that with the approach of summer she would ride in and out on her palfrey. and the words that i heard her speak showed me that this was like enow to be true. "ah, mary," she cried, with her rosy face all aglow, "now we will have right good times together, thou and i. we will go riding forth whither we will, when i have my pony in good john snowe's stable. i will show thee mine own home, and all the beauteous glades and woods of which i have told thee. we will ride hither and thither, and be free as air! i have been but as a caged bird all these weeks. now we will spread our wings and fare forth together and see the world. i will be rosalind, and thou shalt be celia! i will protect thee, and we will live the life of the forest together!" and she laughed so joyous a laugh that i could scarce forbear to join, albeit i knew my place, and strove to look unconcerned. for a few days i heard no more of the matter, and then my uncle suddenly told me that he had promised i should attend the two mistresses mary three days in the week upon their rides, and that i must curtail my studies somewhat in order to be able to do this. some attendant they must needs have, and to my great satisfaction and happiness i was told the mistress mary mead herself had said that she would prefer dicon snowe to any other. now, although i say it, i think the maidens had made wise choice, for i doubt me if any other could so well have shown them the country round taunton as blackbird and i. moreover, knowing what would be wanted by the courageous and high-spirited ladies, i went out often early upon lady jane, and taught her the tricks of leaping, creeping through hedges, and overcoming obstacles that blackbird was famous for; and since mistress mary bridges' pony was as daring and eager as herself, there was little that we could not accomplish together when our minds were set upon it. i knew my place, i hope, and i was careful to speak no word to my ladies save such as became their servant; but as we grew acquainted one with another, they would often draw me into their talk, in that way which the really high-born have no fear of doing, and discuss with me many matters in which i was more versed than they. and this i say without boasting of any learning; for what the ladies desired greatly to learn was news of those things that were going on in the world about them, of which little reached them, whilst i was always hearing stories from the travellers who passed by; and though some told one tale and some another, so that it was not easy to sift the grain of truth from the chaff of falsehood, yet one felt to know something as time went on, and i could tell my ladies many a tale which made them hang upon my lips as though i spoke words of magic charm. and ever and again would our talk come back to the duke of monmouth, and the chance of his succeeding to the crown. mistress mary bridges came of a race that belonged to what men called the "court party." at home she heard no good spoken of the duke of monmouth, and told us that her father had many times said with authority that there was no truth whatsoever in the story of the black box; that many men believed the duke of monmouth to be the son of colonel robert sydney, and not of the king at all; that her father always declared him to be much more like "handsome sydney," as he was called, than like the king; and that it would be vile sin and shame to england if any attempt were made to place upon the throne a man upon whose birth there rested such a stain and slur. his mother, as all the world knew, had been a vile woman, and the son was like to be little better than his mother. these things had young mistress mary heard her father say when he was speaking to his wife and others of this matter, and the daughter had been brought up to look upon the succession of the duke as a silly fable, which would never come to aught save empty talk. her winter's residence in taunton, however, had done something to shake this conviction. her ardent and romantic nature had caught some of the fire of mistress mary mead's silent but intense love and enthusiasm for the duke; and when i told of my own adventure, spoke of his kindly ways to the people, his gentleness to me, and the miraculous cure he had worked upon me, she was still more shaken in her former beliefs, and looking from one to another of us would say meditatively,-- "ah! i wonder which is the truth? i would fain believe him the king's lawful son. that treacherous black-browed duke of york will be a terrible tyrant. i would it were any one else to succeed the king! but my father says we must never do evil that good may come; and to support an usurper would be that, even should he make the best king afterwards that the world has ever known!" but then mistress mary mead's soft eyes would light up with a glow of wondrous beauty, and she would say softly,-- "but he is no usurper; he is the lawful heir to the throne, and some day all men will know it! god will light for the righteous cause, and the truth will be made clear as the noonday. i know it, i know it! my heart tells it me!" and such a look would come into her face that all we could do was to gaze at her as though she had been an inspired prophetess; and the other mary would throw her arms about her and cry,-- "now, when thou lookest thus, i cannot but believe every word thou sayest. i could believe that the angels had revealed these things unto thee in vision." and truly i could almost believe the same; for never saw i more perfect trust and confidence than in the lovely face of mistress mary, and i knew that she was one of those who would gladly lay down her life if need be in what she held to be a righteous cause. now, though i must not linger too long over the story of these pleasant rides, i must not omit to mention that more than once as we sallied forth into the lanes and woods we encountered a very gay and dashing young gallant, who (unless my fancy deceived me) looked long and earnestly at mistress mary, with a strange fixedness in his eyes, as though he saw something in her aspect that touched him nearly. and this thing happened more than once, till at last i began to wonder whether our comings and goings were marked and noted by this same gallant, and whether he put himself of set purpose in our path. the first time or two when it happened i doubt if either of my ladies heeded the passing rider. but there came a day when we met him in a very straight and narrow way, and had to pass him in single file; and then it was that a strange thing happened. young mistress mary had gone in front, and mistress mary bridges followed her--i keeping, as behoved my position, somewhat in the rear. as mistress mary passed by this horseman, who had drawn rein and pulled his steed well-nigh into the hedge to let the ladies go by, i saw him put forth a hand and lay it for a moment on the neck of her palfrey, whilst i was certain that i heard these words pronounced in a very low tone, "mary, sweetheart, hast thou forgotten me?" i saw her start, and turn her head towards him who had thus addressed her; and albeit it was little of her face i could see, yet even that little had flushed, as i saw well, a vivid and beautiful crimson. she seemed to pause for a moment, as if without knowing it, and i think she spoke a soft word, though what it was i could not hear. but i saw his eyes lighten, and his hand seek hers for a moment, and again i heard him say as they passed each other by, "i will be faithful, i will be true." now all this greatly aroused and interested me; for mistress mary mead was in very sooth the queen of my heart, and that she should be beloved by so fair and gallant a gentleman seemed to me most right and fitting. i knew not this dashing young lord (for such i rightly judged him to be), but i looked at him well as i passed by, and thought that his face was a right goodly and honest one, and that if any man deserved the love of my sweet lady, it would be one such as he. methought he gave me a quick and earnest glance as he rode by, but he said no word, nor did he address either me or mistress mary when he met us on other occasions. yet methinks there is a language of the eyes which is often more eloquent than that of the tongue, and i noted that the bloom returned with wondrous speed to mistress mary's pale cheeks, and that the languor and weakness from which she had been suffering grew less day by day. the gay spring-tide flew by as upon wings, and the hot dry summer followed. there had been something of a drought the previous year, and again this summer there was great lack of rain, and some of the crops suffered, although others did well, and all men rejoiced in the brave sunshine and the way in which the hay was got in and the corn grew and ripened. with these summer days, too, came the holidays at the schools. i had no more studies to prepare for my tutors and masters; nor had i any rides to take with my ladies, for miss blake's house was empty. mistress mary mead had gone to spend the vacation with her friend at bishop's hull, and i might have felt my time hang heavy, missing their kindly notice of me, had it not been that another call was made upon my time, and one which brought me into contact with one in whom i had come to have a great interest. i was standing idly in the court-yard one day, watching the comings and goings of various travellers, and exchanging a word now and again with one whom i knew, when all of a sudden i woke up to a sense of keen interest and excitement; for into the yard rode the gallant young gentleman whom we had so often encountered in our rides, and i at once went up and held his stirrup for him to dismount, asking him how we could serve him. he looked hard at me, and i saw that he knew me instantly. "can i have speech with john snowe?" he asked; and i at once said that my uncle was within, and would attend him in person. but he still remained standing beside his horse regarding me steadily; and before he moved away towards the inn, he remarked with would-be carelessness of manner, "i have not seen thee abroad of late with thy ladies." "no, my lord," i answered--for i had made up my mind he could be nothing less--"the ladies be gone away for a while. they will not return till the summer has waned." i thought he looked sorrowful, but he said no more, and turned towards the inn, bidding me hold his horse till his return, as he should not be long over his errand. i was curious to know what that errand could be, and to know the name and rank of the gallant gentleman. i was sure to find out that from mine uncle, who knew every one, high and low, in these parts; but my curiosity was gratified sooner than i looked for, for within five minutes i heard my uncle's voice calling to me to come in. leaving the horse with one of the hostlers, i ran to obey the summons, and found myself in the best parlour, where the stranger was half seated upon the table, tapping his riding-boot with his cane as he talked, my uncle standing respectfully before him, his cap in his hand. this confirmed my impressions as to the rank of the visitor; for my uncle by no means capped to every chance traveller, even of the better sort. "this is the lad of whom your lordship has heard, dicon snowe, my brother's son," said my uncle as i appeared. "if he will suit your noble father's purpose, and if it be not for too long a time, we will make shift to spare him, albeit his place here will not be easy to fill." "you shall not be the loser by it, good john," said the young gallant with a laugh; and i saw that his eyes lighted up with surprise at my entrance, and i thought that his face looked pleased. he did not, however, speak openly to me, only giving me a friendly nod as he said something about "the morrow" to my uncle; and only when he was gone and we had seen him ride gaily past the windows did i venture to ask my kinsman, "who is he? and wherefore has he come? what is it that he wants of me?" "that is young lord vere--viscount vere, if you will--eldest son and heir to lord lonsdale of court house, west monkton. doubtless you have been near the place sometimes when riding forth with the ladies." "no," i answered, "mistress mary would never ride that way; but i have seen the house when i have been alone, albeit i knew not who lived in it. is it not lord lonsdale who is guardian to mistress mary mead?" "ay; and some say his son was so smitten by her girlish charms, that to keep mischief from following she was sent to miss blake, and the viscount to london and thence to foreign shores, whence he has but lately returned. but the business that brought him here was to obtain for his father, my lord of lonsdale, the assistance of a reader, who can beguile his leisure and write his despatches, whilst he recovers from an inflammation of the eyes which is keeping him a prisoner in his room. his secretary is away upon some mission, and his lordship has been doing all himself of late; but his eyes have suddenly become greatly inflamed and painful, so that he is unable to use them. it has been told him that i had here a youth who was an excellent reader and ready likewise with the pen, and he has sent to ask for him to be sent to court house for a while. and so i must e'en make shift to spare thee, boy; for one must give favourable answer when a lord is the suer." i gathered from what i had heard that it was something more than courtesy which prompted my uncle to part with me; but i was not disposed to fall foul of his motives, seeing that i was greatly the gainer thereby. for, like all young things, i was greedy of change, and thought that it would be a fine thing to belong for a time to my lord of lonsdale's household--to sit with him in his library and read to him and pen his despatches. i felt an inch taller as i went from my uncle's presence to make my simple preparations for leaving on the morrow. i had been not a little fascinated by the beauty and manly grace of the viscount, and the thought that he was the secret lover of sweet mistress mary mead gave him an added charm in my eyes. perhaps i should be able to help those two to a happy termination to their courtship. did not the mouse in the fable loose the bonds of the lion? and surely i might be able to do as much as that! on the next morning i set forth in great spirits, riding blackbird, and carrying a change of apparel in my saddlebag. i knew court house well, for i had often seen its chimneys and gables from mine own home, from which it lay not so very far away by miles, but divided therefrom by a stretch of swampy land, so that there was no good way of approaching it. i did not even remember who lived there, though i must surely have heard. for until i came to dwell in taunton, i took but small interest in the affairs of the neighbourhood, save those of the neighbours and friends amongst whom we lived. but i was interested enough as i rode up and passed under the archway to the stables and inferior offices of the house and made known my errand there. i thought the men looked rather disdainfully at my crooked back and small stature, but whether they would have been rude or not i cannot say, for the viscount chanced to pass that way, sallying out to see to a favourite horse that was lame; and seeing me he nodded in his friendly fashion, and calling to an indoor servant, he bid him conduct me to the earl without further ado. so i was taken through one long passage and up a flight of stairs, and along yet another and a longer passage, and through a door into a hall of such vast and noble proportions that i would fain have lingered to look at it, only i was constrained to follow my guide, who turned down a long corridor lighted by tall narrow windows high up in the wall, and hung with many a fine picture the likes of which i had never seen before, until he paused at a massive door sunk in a niche in the wall, and almost immediately i found myself entering a room almost as large as a church, with windows filled with lozenges of stained glass bearing heraldic devices, and with cases of books the very sight of which made my mouth water and my fingers tingle in the longing desire to know what was within them. at the far end of this room, beside a bureau heaped with books and papers, sat a stately gentleman, soberly but richly clad, and wearing over his eyes a shade to exclude the light. he held a paper-cutter like a dagger in his hands, with which he seemed to have been impatiently toying, and as soon as ever the servant had retired after explaining his errand, he pointed imperiously to a wooden chair near to the table, and said, "sit there, dicon snowe, and read to me these letters one by one. pause not unless i bid thee. and read thy best and clearest." i obeyed in some fear and trembling, for i found it a very different thing to read out written matter to a lord from having to read the print of book or news-letter to my uncle's guests, or even to miss blake and mrs. musgrave. however, i knew that i should only do worse by letting myself think of this, and by getting frightened at my position; so i went to my task with what courage i could muster, and soon found the work so interesting that i forgot all about lord lonsdale's rank, and was as much at home in my task as though i had been in my uncle's parlour. i may say without vanity that i pleased my master. i found this out by degrees as i pursued my avocations under his directions. there was always a good deal of reading and writing of despatches to be done in the mornings, and sometimes gentlemen would come in and talk with the earl, whilst i sat silent over my task or waited idle for orders. i saw sir william portman frequently, the owner of orchard portman, and also of a fine timbered house in the town; and sir ralph bridges, the father of mistress mary, came sometimes and talked long and earnestly with the earl. i could not hear a great deal of their talk from where i sat in my recess, and often i had writing to do which engrossed my attention; but i gathered that the health of the king was beginning to give anxiety to the court, that the question of the succession was becoming an increasingly burning one, and that the power and influence of the duke of monmouth were steadily waning. this was regarded as very satisfactory by the friends of the earl, as i very well saw, although my own heart used to grow heavy within me as i heard their talk. the duke was not in england now. he had fled to holland, and was sometimes heard of there, sometimes in brussels. it was said that he was planning a secret visit to england, to get speech with the king and seek to regain his favour. all believed the king to be greatly attached to him, and feared the result of a personal interview. but all were equally convinced that charles would never pass over his brother and rightful heir, or seek to pass any measure putting monmouth into the succession. these men of the court party seemed quite secure on this head; but the unpopularity of the duke of york in the country, and the strange influence which monmouth possessed over the hearts of the people, were sources of danger which they could not ignore. i heard the matter discussed in all its bearings, and felt every day to enter into a better understanding of the case; but all this did not shake my loyalty and love for the duke one whit, though it opened my eyes to the knowledge that he would have a harder battle for his crown (thus i put it to myself) than i had hitherto believed. in the after-part of the day i generally read other things to the earl: history, poetry, learned writings of great men whose names i had never heard--nothing came amiss to lord lonsdale, who was a very learned man; and he was exceedingly kind in pausing from time to time to make some explanation which rendered the theme under discussion more intelligible to me. of course i never paused to ask a question, but if he stopped to ask if i understood what i was reading (as he sometimes did), then i had to answer no, and he would give me a brief but masterly summary of the matter, and permit me then to ask a question if i did not understand. so i came to have a great love and reverence for the earl, and to feel my mental horizon growing wider round me every day. i was well treated by the servants of the house, with whom i consorted at other times; and above all i began to feel an intense and growing admiration and love for young lord vere, who took much notice of me as the days went by, but of whom i will more fully speak in another chapter. chapter vi. _viscount vere._ it may be that what i have now to relate will have something of a presumptuous sound, seeing that i was a lad of humble birth, and that my lord the viscount was heir to a noble name and estate. nevertheless truth is truth, be it never so strange, and there be laws of the heart which follow not the laws of custom and use. nor was it anything strange that my heart should go forth to one so handsome, so noble, so kind of nature, so brave and gallant as the youthful viscount, lord lonsdale's son; but it always seems passing strange to me when i think how he made of me a friend and comrade--me, a crook-backed lad of but fourteen years when first we became acquaint, the son of a farmer, and nephew to an inn-keeper--one who might never dare to speak such a word as "friendship" in connection with such an one as my lord vere. yet so it turned out, and friends we became; and i may e'en write the word down without shame, albeit in all humility, since to this very day he speaks of me as friend, and loves to talk over with me those stirring adventures in which we both bore a part, as you shall hear. how this strange friendship came about it now behoves me to relate. i was, as i have explained, installed for a time in lord lonsdale's household, intrusted with the office of reading to him, and of writing such of his letters as he desired. my duties, however, did not occupy the whole of my time, and i had many hours of leisure to call mine own. it was, i think, upon the third day of my stay, and i had found my way to the stables to look at blackbird, and to ask whether it would be deemed right for me to take him out for exercise, when lord vere came into the yard, and seeing me there, cried out in his free and friendly fashion, "well met, dicon; let us ride forth together. i have somewhat to say to thee; and that pony of thine looks wild for a gallop." so before a quarter of an hour had passed we were riding through the great gateway--i following in the wake of the viscount, as was just and right, but feeling greatly honoured by being permitted thus to attend him. i would fain describe my gallant young lord, only i fear that my poor pen lacks the skill to bring him before the eye of the reader. it is easy to speak of handsome, well-cut features, stamped with that high-bred look that is the birthright of so many of our noble families, of sunny blue eyes, delicately-arched brows, and a figure full of grace and power, and skilled in all martial exercises. but these words sound cold and poor, and do little towards conjuring up the picture of youthful grace and manhood that was presented in those days by young lord vere. there was a brightness about him which was like nothing so much as the golden halo round the head of a pictured saint. he seemed to carry sunshine and light with him. it shone in his eyes, it sparkled in his smile, it brought light and happiness to the faces of those with whom he spoke. i have lived long in the world now, and have seen many men and women whom i have had good cause to love, admire, and revere; but none amongst these has ever possessed that gracious and brilliant charm of the viscount. never have i felt my heart so stolen away and enslaved as it was by him. i know what the love is of man to maid, and how it makes all the world new, and makes a heaven of this earth; but even this love and glamour is not quite like that which filled my boyhood's heart when young lord vere rode beside me and made of me his friend. i always think when in holy writ i hear how the soul of david was knit unto the soul of jonathan, and of how the love of jonathan and david is spoken of as a love "passing the love of women," that i understand the import of these beautiful words better perhaps than other men may be able to do. i felt the beginnings of this glamour as i rode after lord vere through the stately park and watched the sunlight playing in his golden curls and lighting up the bright tints of his riding coat and vest. the viscount's hair was so thick and abundant, and curled with such a natural grace, that he wore no wig, like the greater part of the gentry in those days; and for my part i think that nothing could have so well become him as did his own bright hair, although i have heard envious gallants, who would fain have copied him an they had known how, sneer at his "maid's face" and floating love-locks. we had scarce passed beyond the view of the house when lord vere reined in his horse and signed to me to come up beside him; and then with one quick glance round, as though to assure himself that there were none to overhear, he said in eager accents, "dicon lad, i have wanted speech of thee for a purpose. i prithee tell me all thou knowest about sweet mistress mary mead." i was not greatly surprised at the question, albeit it had come somewhat soon and suddenly. nor was i loath to speak of mistress mary; and i told my young lord all that i knew of her--how i was favoured sometimes to read to her with others in miss blake's parlour, and how i had been made her attendant since she had been bidden to take exercise on her palfrey with young mistress mary bridges. he listened eagerly, ever and anon putting some quick question anent her health or the fashion in which she occupied herself; and when i had told him all that i could, he looked thoughtful for a moment, and then said, "boy, dost thou think her happy?" truth to tell, i had never seriously considered this question. mistress mary seemed to me as a thing apart, so greatly above my world that i did not judge of her as i should of others nearer to myself; but having had the thought suggested, i pondered awhile upon it, and then i answered,-- "methinks, perhaps, that she is as one who feels a shadow resting upon her life. she is ofttimes pensive. she but seldom laughs, and her smile is sad as well as sweet. i could think of her as one who has some secret trouble which she is nursing; but i do not speak with knowledge, my lord, only as my heart prompts me, thinking of her and what i have noted when in her gentle presence." now although i could not doubt that the viscount greatly loved mistress mary, yet methought his face lighted as if with joy to hear that she was ofttimes sad. and if at first i was surprised at this, i quickly began to understand better the reason for this joy. he rode on for a few minutes in silence, one expression chasing another over his face; and at last looking earnestly at me, as though he would read my very soul, he said,-- "dicon, i must speak to some one, else my heart will break for very impatience of these bonds of silence. boy, i like thee. there is that in thy face which draws me to thee. canst thou be discreet? canst thou keep a secret? and wilt thou be true to me if i tell thee more perhaps of myself than any man knoweth as yet?" my heart bounded within me at these words. already it was enslaved by the charm of this young noble. even though i had been but three days in his father's house, i had heard nothing but praise of him, and had come already to regard him as a bright particular star. to be taken into his confidence was a favour so far above my merits and so far removed from anything i had dreamed, that i was bewildered with joy, and could only breathe forth a hearty and cordial promise that i would be true to the death, silent as the grave, and the very humble and devoted servant of the viscount in any office in which he could employ me and in which i could serve him. he looked at me smilingly as i blundered forth my clumsy asseverations, but i think he read in my eyes that i meant every word that i said; and when i had finished he held out his hand, and i placed mine within it, feeling lifted into another sphere by the very touch of those strong slim fingers. "there, lad, that is the seal to our comradeship," he said, as he released my fingers with a strong pressure. "now i must e'en speak to thee with some freedom; and yet, perchance, thou hast heard somewhat of this very matter. has it ever been told thee that i love mistress mary as a man loves the maiden he would fain seek for his wife?" "i have heard something of it, my lord," i answered; "albeit i think that none know rightly whether there be truth in the rumour or no." "if men say that i love her as never woman was loved yet, they speak in very sooth no more than the truth," was the impetuous answer, and the young lord's face flushed with the generous ardour of his love, whilst his eyes kindled with such a light as methinks no maiden could resist; but after a brief moment the flush faded, and he smiled at his own vehemence, and said,-- "nay, but i must not prate and rant like a hot-headed boy. i have reached man's estate, and as a man will i woo and win my fair lady. and thou, good dicon, shalt help me to this, an thou wilt; for men have raised barriers betwixt us that be not easily broken down. not only have they taken her away and placed her with those who would keep her from me, but they have taught her to think that her sweet love will injure me, and that to wed with her would be to do me grievous hurt." "is that so?" i asked, marvelling; and walking our horses at a foot's pace under the green trees, the viscount told me all his tale. "truly i think that from very childhood we loved each other. thou canst well guess how sweet a maid she was when she came to us, and how in my lonely boyhood she seemed to come like a creature of light and air; how we roved the woods and dells together, and played that we were king and queen of all the earth; and how we plighted our troth a thousand times, and never thought of life save as a thing to be shared together. "i verily believe that, had my mother lived, she would have taken our part; for mary was in sooth a daughter to her, and she loved her with a great and tender love. but she was taken away, and methinks the grief of that parting changed mary from child to maiden at an early age. be that as it may, when she was not yet fifteen years, and when i was but eighteen, i could refrain myself no longer, but told her fully and freely of my love; and she hid her sweet face upon my breast, and said that she had never known a thought or a wish save to be mine. and so we plighted our troth standing over my mother's grave, where it was that her tears had roused within me the resolve to speak at once and for ever, and to win for myself the right to chase those tears away. our troth-plight was the more hallowed to both of us, i know, for that it was taken in that spot, amid so many memories of her who had been so infinitely dear to both." the viscount paused a moment and turned away his head; and i thought none the less highly of his manhood that the memory of his departed mother had brought tears to his eyes. for a moment he paused, and then he continued his tale, speaking in a graver tone, and with less of emotion. "having thus opened my heart to mary, the time had come for me to speak to my father. i went to him without fear, and yet i was aware of some small misgiving in my heart. not that i could see how he could, by any manner of means, find aught amiss with my choice; yet i remembered how he had from time to time spoken of my marriage, and had seemed to think that a daughter of our good friend sir william portman would prove to be the lady of my choice. hitherto i had only smiled when he spoke thus, and had given the matter scarce another thought, having no intentions towards marriage till mary should be older. but i remembered it as i approached the door of his room that day, and my heart sank somewhat within me." "but surely, my lord, your noble father could not have aught but love for one so sweet as mistress mary?" i hazarded. the viscount slightly shook his head. "thou wilt find as thou growest in wisdom and in years, good dicon, that a father may love a fair maid right well, and yet not desire her for his son's wife; and that he may care little for the lady he desires to call his daughter-in-law the whiles he is very eager to betroth her to his son. i was speedily to find that my father would hear not a word of my troth-plight to mary. he strove first to laugh; and when i would not have the matter slighted, he grew stern and hard, told me that he had other projects for me, and that in these dangerous and perilous times--for they are more perilous than thou dost well know, dicon, and are like to be more so should aught happen to the king--no man could walk too warily. he said he had chosen a wife for me out of the family of the portmans, as, in sooth, i had half believed, and that mary was no fit match for me. some wealth she had, but her lineage was not equal to mine, and, child though she was, she was deeply tainted by the disloyalty and rebellious notions of her father. he had watched with pain the development of the germs of this evil, which had been fostered by those to whom her education had been intrusted, albeit at that time he had not known this. in short, he would have none of it. he would not listen to my pleading. he told me that i was but a boy, and knew not what was for mine own good; whilst she was a child, and would say yea to any swain who came a-wooing. and since i was unwilling thus to be treated, and asserted my manhood and my unchanging devotion in the finest phrases at my command, he took another line with me, and said that i must have a chance of seeing other maidens than my mary; and, in fine, he told me to make ready to be sent to the king's court, where it was full time that i presented myself, and where he intended to send me forthwith." "was not that good news, my lord?" i asked as he paused. "surely your lordship must have desired to see the gay world of fashion and the person of the king's majesty?" "i wanted nothing so much then as to bask in the sunshine of mary's bright eyes," answered lord vere quickly. "nevertheless, if that might not be, and if it were needful to prove my constancy, i was willing to obey my father; and, indeed, i had no choice but to do as i was bid. mary herself told me that i must submit myself to my father's will; and within a week i had bidden her farewell, vowing to be constant to her for ever, and quickly found myself in london, and welcomed at court by many of my father's friends." "and what is the life of the court like, my lord?" i ventured to inquire; but the viscount laughed and shook his head. "ask me that another time, good dicon, and i will give thee thy fill of stories of its follies and pleasures and wickedness; but my thoughts are with my mary to-day, and i will not sully her name nor her image by mingling with it any of these polluted memories. i was there some three months when my father came; and i heard then from him that mary had been sent away from court house to miss blake's, or rather to mrs. musgrave's care, in taunton. my father said that a maid needed the care of women--which is doubtless true; and that, now my mother was dead, there was no one here to be a companion to her. i wrote her a letter when i was able to find a safe messenger; but she was long in replying, although i begged her to let me hear from her. and when she did write, it was to tell me that she would not hold me bound by any of the words i had spoken to her; that, since it would not be for my happiness or welfare to wed with her, she freely gave me up. she bid me do my father's will without thought of her; and albeit a spirit of gentle, sorrowful love breathed in every line of her letter, not a word of love did it contain, and i understood well that my father had made her believe it would injure my fortune to mate with her, and that she was striving to help me to forget, so that i might do that which was thought by others to forward my fortunes in the world." "ah! that was like her--that was like her!" i could not refrain from exclaiming. "that is what all who know her say of her--that she thinks always of others, never of herself. that is why all love her so much. they say of her ofttimes that she is like one of the holy angels, so full of goodness and purity." lord vere's face kindled, as i soon found it always did at any praise of mistress mary; but he made no direct answer, only going on with his narrative. "it was two years before i saw court house again; but those years had served only to deepen my love for sweet mary. beside the image of her which i carried always in my heart, other women looked to me like 'painted jezebels,' as i called them in my thoughts. i never saw one amongst them who stirred my heart or recalled in anywise the feelings with which i had regarded my mary; and when i came back, i was resolved that i would rid her mind of those false notions which had been instilled into it by others. but, alas! i was something too impetuous and outspoken, and my father got wind of my intentions. what steps he took i know not, but mary had left taunton ere ever i was able to ride over to seek her. all i could learn was that she had been taken away for the sake of her health, and whither she had gone my father would not tell me. kind in all else, he was inexorable about mary, and soon i was so seriously beset to pay my addresses to mistress julia portman, that i was glad to leave court house once more, and travel abroad or pay visits at the court; and only of late have i returned home, having arrived at man's estate and come into possession of the fortune bequeathed me by my mother, as fully bent as ever upon winning my mary for my wife, albeit i have learned to go to work more warily now, and to use policy in my methods." "and does my lord the earl know that your heart is yet unchanged, my lord?" i asked eagerly. "to him i have spoken no word," answered the viscount gravely. "i trow he thinks my boyish freak forgotten. what he may have said to mistress mary, or to those who have charge of her, to keep her from me, i know not. that he still desires an alliance with the portman family i cannot doubt, although mistress julia is now wed, and it is her younger sister edith whose praises are from time to time sounded in my ears. but i have seen mary. i have spoken to her, as thou, good dicon, dost know. i have read in her sweet eyes that however she may strive to turn from me, yet her heart is mine as mine is hers. her words may be few and cold, but her eyes speak eloquent language. obstacles and difficulties may lie in our path; but i will overcome them in the strength of my love, and mary shall be mine at last!" as he spoke, my very heart went out to him in his generous, chivalrous love; and stretching out my hand and bringing it down upon his charger's neck in my eagerness, i cried,-- "o my lord, what maid could stand out against such love? and if i can do aught to help you, i am your very humble and devoted servant ever." "good lad, i believe thee," he answered warmly. "there is something in thy face which draws me to trust thee. i have watched thee oft when thou hast little known it: for when mistress mary rode forth i have seldom been far away, though not often have i dared to show myself. i read in thine eyes that thou didst love her. i knew that thou wert faithful and watchful. and now, tell me true, boy: is she, as my father would have me believe, one of those who look upon the young duke of monmouth as the coming saviour and deliverer of this nation? and would she look with aversion and displeasure upon one who (if indeed in days to come it comes to be a question of fighting) would be forced by duty and conviction to take up arms upon the other side?" at that question i felt my face grow grave; for i knew right well how mistress mary's heart was with the duke of monmouth, and how she did indeed regard him as the coming deliverer of the nation, and the champion of the cause of true religion. very deep in her heart were these matters buried. very sacred in her eyes was the cause of him whom she often declared to be the embodiment of all that she held dear in matters appertaining to freedom of government and of faith. could she indeed ally herself to one who was banded upon the other side? it would be a hard struggle betwixt love and duty--that at least i was sure of; and did she think also that her love would be hurtful to him to whom it was given, why, then, in very truth i thought that the scale would be turned against him. the viscount's face fell as i spoke to him of these matters, and told him of the assurance mistress mary felt, not only of the integrity of the duke, but of his right to rule the kingdom as the legitimate son of the king; and i saw his face cloud over almost as if with impatience, as he answered sharply and decisively,-- "why will people persist in believing a mischievous fable? if the king had a lawful son, he would be glad and thankful to proclaim him, and have done with the endless cabals and plots which are making his life a misery. why, dicon, there have been times when he must have been sorely tempted by his black brother's jealousy and spite, and by his love for the duke, to proclaim him his lawful heir. but he has never done so; nay, more, when it has been almost offered to him--as it was to the great eighth harry--to appoint his own heir and make an end of these disastrous disputes as to the succession, he has never let himself be tempted to do this injustice to his brother. honour has withheld him, though certainly were monmouth his lawful son he would have acted very differently. some say he is not the king's son at all, despite the affection between them. i tell you plainly, dicon, that he is by no means the hero you good folk of the west country imagine. he has many good qualities. he has distinguished himself in the dutch wars by many acts of bravery; but he is tainted by the treachery of the stuarts--for i will not deny that they are a treacherous race, though i am a loyal servant to the king. he is a bad husband to his virtuous duchess. the vices of his mother are appearing in him; and though he is a stanch protestant and a hater of popery, yet he is not the saint and the deliverer you enthusiasts believe him. have a care, dicon, how you act if ever this comes to be a question of blows and of fighting; for the kingdom is _not_ with the bastard duke. we may not do ill that good may come, nor fight against our lawful king to set an usurper on the throne, be he never such a champion of liberty. what followed when cromwell was ruler though not called king? a tyranny worse than the nation had ever groaned under in the king's time. the people had had their will then, and it ended in their sighing for their rightful king and bringing him back in triumph. and so it will be again if the duke of monmouth is ever foolish enough to try to claim the throne. i doubt me if he will ever succeed in winning it, but i am quite certain that he will never keep it; and there will be evil days then for those who take his part." i listened with grave face and sinking heart to words which affected me more as coming from lord vere than they had done when spoken by his noble father and the other gentlemen. somehow i had fancied that all young and generous souls would go out in love towards our idol the duke, and to hear him spoken of by lord vere in such terms gave me a curious shock. i could not but tremble to think how mistress mary would take such words--she who had dreamed her dreams about the duke till he became to her as the hero of some noble tale, as the stainless knight of romance going forth in the might of truth and righteousness to tread down all enemies with lofty courage and devotion. methought the viscount would need all the charm of his grace and the attraction of their mutual love to approach mistress mary with such words on his lips and such thoughts in his heart; but after all, was not such love as theirs proof against all difference of opinion in outward matters? only to mistress mary these things went deep, deep into her heart, and she could not regard them as mere externals. this first ride and first talk were by no means the last; and before i left court house (with a generous gratuity in my pocket, over and above the sum paid to my uncle) i felt that, despite the wide difference of our stations, i knew the heart of the viscount as nobody in the world knew it, and that the word "friendship" between us was no mockery. heart and soul was i with him in his desire to win speech of mistress mary, and to plead his cause in person; and i took back with me a long letter written by lord vere, which i promised faithfully to deliver into her own hands, unseen by all the world, so soon as she should be returned and i could find a way of doing this discreetly. chapter vii. _a winter of plots._ i went back to my uncle's house with my head full of romantic stuff about lovers and love's dreams, and with every intention of working might and main to bring about the happiness of the two beings in whom these romantic notions centred--namely, the dashing young viscount and sweet mistress mary mead. not only did i resolve to deliver the precious letter upon the first possible opportunity, but i also made up my mind to speak such glowing words of praise anent the writer thereof as should move the heart of any maiden, still more of one who i was very certain was predisposed to think kindly of him of whom i should thus speak. i was little versed in affairs of the heart; yet i had not read my shakespeare so earnestly for nothing all these years, and i felt very sure that the heart of a young maid was not of adamant, and that the youthful wooing of which the viscount had told me could not have failed to make an impression upon the tender and ardent imagination of mistress mary. nevertheless, in spite of all the eagerness on my part to set things in train for a happy consummation, i was destined to disappointment; for not only had mistress mary not returned to miss blake's house when i got back, but i speedily heard that she had accompanied her young namesake on a visit the latter was paying to some relatives in the adjoining county of devon, and that she was not like to return to taunton for some months to come. moreover, i could not learn her exact whereabouts in devonshire, only that it was at the other side of the county, and nigh to cornwall. there was plainly no chance for me to pay her a flying visit on blackbird. i should have to wait until she returned to her abode in the town. i shrewdly suspected that my lord of lonsdale had had somewhat to do with this journey of hers far away. belike he had spoken to his friend sir ralph bridges of his wish to keep his son from the fascinations of mistress mary, and this visit for her had been arranged between them. lord vere was very sorrowful when he heard what had befallen, and declared it all part of a plot. but he was resolved that no machinations on the part of those about them should sunder him from his mary, and made up his mind to wait in patience till she returned, and then see if he could not make shift by hook or by crook to get speech of her, and plead his cause in person. meantime he hung much about taunton, and improved his acquaintance with that city and with many of its inhabitants, making himself well beloved by all who saw him for his gay and winsome ways, and his gracious kindliness of demeanour to his inferiors. and doubtless this paved the way for what followed later. i had not been home long before will wiseman sought me out, and with an air of secrecy and importance invited me to come when occasion served and visit him of an evening at master simpson's house. "there be meetings twice or thrice in the week, dicon," he whispered, with his finger on his lips. "men say that the king cannot live long--that he has a mortal disease which is slowly consuming him. the friends of liberty are laying their plans, and are taking counsel together what it is best to do. they meet at master simpson's ofttimes, and if thou wilt come i will take care thou dost hear all that is said. money is being got together, and men are secretly working amongst their fellows, so that at the right moment the whole county will rise as one man for the right. come and hear for thyself; but not a word to thine uncle. he is too cautious a man to join with the friends of freedom. he desires to see how the issue will be decided ere he commits himself to take a side. that is not the stuff of which heroes are made." will's eyes flashed with his enthusiasm; and i caught the spirit from him, and vowed i would come so soon as my duties would permit me. what will spoke of mine uncle was too true for me to resent. he was one of those who desired to embrace the winning side, whichever that side should be. i knew well that in his heart he favoured the cause of the duke of monmouth; but he was less sanguine than some of his towns-folk of the chances of the duke's success, and he had no wish to imperil his life or his living by any unguarded movement that might cause him trouble later. he went steadily about his daily business, talking freely with all who came and went, but always professing that he had neither time nor knowledge to judge such matters. the making of kings was no business of his; all he strove after was to obey the laws of the land, and give his allegiance to the reigning sovereign. by these methods he succeeded in keeping the confidence and liking of all men; for a pleasanter companion, and a more hearty man in his ways, it would be hard to find. if ever he heard me speak an unguarded word on great matters, he would smite me on the shoulder, and give me a kindly hint to guard my tongue, lest it should bring me into trouble, and urge me not to meddle with matters beyond my understanding. but i could not abide by such prudent counsel, and was all agog to hear what was the talk of master simpson's parlour, whither i repaired whenever i had the chance. the men most frequently gathered together there for discussion and mutual encouragement as the winter drew on were the two hewling brothers, of whom mention has been made, and who had wealth and leisure as well as good-will to expend in the cause; master herring and master hucker; a gentleman of the name of sharpe, who was son to the rev. emmanuel sharpe, who had once been vicar of st. mary magdalen; and last, but not least, the two dares, father and son, who always seemed of all present the most to incline to bold counsel and resolute action. i should weary the reader were i to give too much in detail all that was planned and discussed at these meetings; but as the winter days drew on, and rumours from london spoke more certainly of the king's declining health, there was greater and greater desire amongst our friends to rouse in the minds of the people of the west country a resolve to make a stand against popery and unlawful tyranny. and i remember well how heywood dare stood forth one day and said that he would straightway go to holland, find the duke of monmouth, and take counsel with him; whilst those who remained behind were to work ceaselessly in his interest here: so that when a blow was struck it might be a heavy and decisive one. the duke of monmouth was now living at the hague in a sort of honourable exile. the king had never ceased to regard him with affection; but the jealousies and dissensions of the court, and the hostility of his own brother, had made him decree this thing for the sake of peace and quietness. it seemed to us that it should have been the duke of york who ought to have been sent away; but unluckily we had no voice in the ruling of these matters. it was the protestant duke who had been forced to quit the country, and it certainly seemed an excellent thing to establish direct personal relations with him through the medium of heywood dare, a man of so much courage and devotion. those who worked amongst the people, sounding them and striving to kindle within their hearts an enthusiasm for the cause, reported favourably of the temper of the common people, but said that the gentry held aloof, and were not to be approached. the influence of the earl of lonsdale, sir william portman, and sir ralph bridges was very great around taunton, and all these gentlemen were loyal in their allegiance to what was termed the "court party." sometimes i was called in and questioned about what i had heard at court house of the matters appertaining to the duke, and my reports were not favourable to our wishes. but i ventured once to hint that i thought perhaps the young lord, viscount vere, might be won over to our cause; and mr. benjamin hewling was forthwith requested to seek him out and strive to sound him in the matter. for all those who knew most about the chances of such a struggle and the fortunes of war--should it ever come to a passage of arms--declared many times that we must have men of the better sort to lead and advise our recruits. undisciplined soldiers would follow an experienced and gallant captain, when they would fall away in confusion and fear if they had no one above themselves to look to. i could well believe that there were hundreds who would follow the viscount to danger and death, and fight to the very last gasp, who would turn tail and run like sheep had they only a plain townsman at their head. how mr. benjamin hewling fared on his mission i did not hear at once, but i thought in my heart that lord vere would scarce be adamant to a cause in which his mary's heart was so bound up. he despised and hated the duke of york--i knew that very well--albeit he declared his conviction of the necessity of supporting the rightful heir to the crown be he never so personally unbeloved. but if mr. benjamin, with his silver tongue and gentle ways, or mistress mary, with pleading glances and eloquent words, could make him see the matter differently, why, then, in him the good cause would have an able recruit; for my lord vere was skilled in every kind of martial exercise, had seen action abroad, and was of no small personal valour and gallantry. i not unfrequently saw him in the streets arm in arm with mr. hewling, and i heard of him as being seen within their hospitable doors, whilst men spoke of the friendship which was growing up between him and the two brothers, of whom all men thought so well. that they were growing to be friends was evident enough, but whether the brothers hewling would persuade him to look at public matters with their eyes was what none could say as yet. things were in this way at the approach of christmas, and of that busy festive season which kept me so close at home that i could scarce stir abroad in search of amusement or information. there seemed to be nothing but coming and going from morning till night--the lack of rain, which still continued even during the winter, making the roads better for travellers, and the excited state of the country tending to make men restless and anxious for news. but what excited me more than the rumours from london or the preparations for christmas-tide was the return of mistress mary to miss blake's house just before the festive season came. i did not know that she was back; for the school had broken up for the recess, and my informant lizzie, who kept me conversant with what went on within those walls, had not heard anything of the matter when i was asked to come and read to the ladies, as i was in the way of doing from time to time. when therefore i entered the parlour, with my book beneath my arm and the most recent news-letter in my hand, who should be there, in her accustomed seat beside the fire, but mistress mary mead, looking as sweet and lovely as ever, though perhaps a little pale; and seated beside her, with his hungry, cruel-looking eyes almost always fixed upon her face, was the rev. nicholas blewer, the man whom above all others in taunton town i feared and hated. how came he there? and how dared he sit beside mistress mary as though it were his right, and keep his evil eyes so constantly upon her face as he was doing now? i felt my blood boil in my veins as i saw him, and i should well have liked to take the knave by the throat and fling him out at the door. but instead i was forced to sit in my place and read to him as well as to the rest, and listen to his comments upon the news of the week--comments which, as i well saw, brought the flush of anger many times into mistress mary's cheek. for mr. blewer was a bitter enemy of those who held for liberty and the duke; and it was whispered that at heart he was a papist, and every whit as cruel as the duke of york. now i trust that in thus speaking of mr. blewer it will not be thought that i would willingly speak evil of any man called to a holy office, or that i have any hatred towards the clergy of the established church of the land, for this is far from being the case. i hold that we owe them all reverence and honour, and, as these pages will show, i account mr. axe a great and noble man, albeit he took our contrary part in the struggle i am coming to. yet inasmuch as there are black sheep in every flock, and as the cassock and surplice do not do away with a man's evil nature--nay, the very fact that a man of unbridled passions should blaspheme the name of god and the holy ghost by taking upon himself vows for which he is unfit, makes his office of necessity a mockery and a stumbling-block--so it always has seemed to me that if an ordained priest of god is untrue to his calling, he becomes a much worse man than if he had not mocked god by taking such vows into his lips. at least i can but say that mr. blewer always appeared to me to be an emissary of the evil one disguised as a servant of god, and i am sure that mistress mary shrank from him as though he were indeed such an one. it was a great matter of wonderment to me how he came to be in miss blake's parlour, for i was sure that neither she nor mrs. musgrave had any love for him. these ladies and their pupils (such as resided beneath their roof) attended service at st. mary's church, as it was considered right and proper to do, and mr. axe was revered and beloved by them. but why this evil-faced mr. blewer was admitted was a source of much perplexity to me, and my perplexity was turned to alarm when i perceived that upon rising to take his leave he saluted mistress mary's hand with a look which could not well be mistaken, and made as though he would have gone further and saluted her lips also had she not drawn herself away with a decision that was not to be mistaken. i saw an ugly look spring into his eyes at that, and thought his smile more hideous than a frown would have been. "ah well, i must be patient, sweetheart," he said. "we shall learn to understand each other better in time." then, with a bow which included all the ladies, he retired, and i was almost astonished to see gentle mistress mary dash the hand that he had kissed against the marble mantel-shelf with such force that she must have bruised the tender skin. "that odious man!" she cried, with unwonted heat. "prithee, dear madam, have pity upon me, and let him come here no more." "dear mary, i like him as little as thou," answered miss blake, with a shake of the head. "i know he is an evil creature. but what can i do, when your worthy guardian bids me give him access from time to time, that he may pay his addresses to you, and tells me that he does this with his approval and consent?" i almost gasped at this, for i began to see that mistress mary was like to be made the victim of a plot which seemed vile and base to me, although i was certain that lord lonsdale had no idea of acting unjustly or cruelly. doubtless he would think mr. blewer a suitable husband for his ward. no one knew aught against him, so far as i had ever heard, and he had some money, and came of a family as good as mistress mary's. to get her safely and quickly married would, of course, be the easiest way of keeping her out of the path of his son. i could not wonder at the turn matters had taken, and yet my heart felt hot within me as i thought of the viscount and then recalled the cruel, wolfish face of mr. blewer. that night, as i reached my room, i stepped out upon the balcony and eagerly scanned the windows of the house i had just quitted. once or twice it had been my hap to see the fair face of mistress mary looking out from a window not very far away; and to-night fortune favoured me, for i had not been at my post more than a few minutes before a curtain was drawn aside and a gleam of light shone out. then quickly a casement was flung open as if by an impatient hand, and mistress mary leaned out into the clear frosty night as though eager to inhale the fresh cold air. i thought i heard a sound break from her like a sob or a sigh. that she was in perplexity and trouble i could not doubt, and i longed with a longing that would brook no delay to go and comfort her. i looked into the yard below. all was perfectly quiet and tranquil. i scanned all the windows of both houses, but no light shone from any save mistress mary's. i stood above her in my balcony, clasping the letter i had dashed in to fetch in my hand. the next minute i had hidden it in the breast of my doublet, and was swinging myself like a monkey from balcony and waterspout to balcony and waterspout, till my movements attracted her attention, and she gave a little cry of fear. "hist, mistress!" i cried in a low voice; "fear not. it is i--dicon snowe. i have somewhat to say to thee, and somewhat to give. have no fear; i will reach thee without hurt." for if my back was crooked, and my legs not of great service for long walks, i had a length and strength of arm that made amends for much, and such a transit as this was but child's play to me. i was soon upon the balcony outside the window by which she stood; but i came no further, knowing my place better than to intrude upon her. "mistress mary," i said eagerly, "i have a letter for you from my lord the young viscount vere. i have had it these three months, but never have seen you to deliver it. i sware to him i would not let it leave my hands till i could place it in yours. take it and read it; and if there be any answer, i will make shift to deliver that. for i love my lord as much as he deserves to be loved by high and low; and since i know his heart is bound up in love for you, i would fain carry him good tidings." it was perhaps overbold of me to speak so, but my heart seemed burning within me; and although mistress mary's cheek glowed and she turned away with her letter, yet i saw the soft light which had come into her eyes, and i knew that her heart was not cold to him, however she might have schooled herself to think she must thwart his love. she read her letter from end to end whilst i stood and watched her, though since she discreetly turned her back to me i could not see its effect upon her. nevertheless, when she turned round i was sure there were tears upon her cheek, and i did not think that they were tears of sorrow. "o dicon," she said, coming forward towards me with the confidence that a sister might show to a brother, "lord vere says he has told all the story to thee. what must i say? what must i do when there be so many things against it, and it will hurt him so with his father if i let him have his way?" "methinks, lady, it will hurt him the more if you be cruel to him," i answered eagerly; "for his very heart is bound up in this matter, and he has been faithful all these years." "i know it, i know it! how can i doubt it, and how could i help loving him, when he was suffered to be all the world to me in days of yore? but a maid may not always wed as her heart prompts, and i would suffer untold woe myself sooner than hurt him. and it has been said to me that it would hurt him grievously if i were to wed with him; and in very truth there be many and grievous barriers betwixt us," and she sighed heavily, whilst a cloud came over her face. i guessed of what she was thinking, and that it was the different view they took of the coming strife, and i knew not how to reassure her here; but i ventured to remark,-- "but mr. blewer hates the cause of the duke and of freedom as my lord the viscount never would. sure it were better to marry a noble foe than one so cruel and false!" "marry mr. blewer!" cried mistress mary, with a vehemence i scarce believed her capable of; "sooner would i die than do that! nay, come what will, none shall coerce me there. i can live and die a maid, if heaven so will it, but i will never wed with yon bad man!" right glad was i to hear her speak with such spirit and resolve; for we of the stronger sex are always half afraid that women may be cajoled or coerced into anything if only the persecution be determined enough. yet i could not get her to intrust me with a letter to lord vere, nor yet with a direct message; only when i said that i would tell him what had passed betwixt us twain, she did not say me nay. i had no rest till i had got speech of the viscount and had told him all that had passed. his brow darkened ominously as he heard of mr. blewer, and of his own father's support of such a suit. "he had better have a care how he goads me," i heard him mutter through his shut teeth; "he may chance to find he has gone too far an he treat her and me thus." then i told of the interview i had had with mistress mary, and his face kindled at the recital. as i finished he burst forth,-- "they have made her think she will injure me by her love. i must see her myself, and show her the folly of that belief. dicon lad, thou art a trusty comrade; thou must do yet one thing more for me. thou must show me how i may get secretly to the balcony of my lady's room, and so have speech with her, no man but thee knowing it. once face to face with her, i warrant i will chase away her fears and her doubts. thou shalt keep thy watch whilst i speak with her; nor will i enter her room, but only stand without as thou hast done. but see her i must, else shipwreck may come of the happiness of two lives. wilt thou help me in this, good dicon?" i think i would have helped him to whatever he asked with such a look and smile; but anything so like a repetition of the romantic story of romeo and juliet kindled my ardent enthusiasm and interest. i had very small doubts myself that mistress mary would be at her window again to-night, half repenting her of her refusal to send a message, and on the look-out for more news of her lover; therefore as soon as the house was quiet i showed the viscount how the transit to the balcony might be made, and myself stood in another balcony commanding all the windows, just out of ear-shot, but in full view of the lovers, and ready to give them any assistance by warning or counsel. it was a bold scheme, but like many such it won its reward. my lord had not waited there above ten minutes before the curtains were drawn back, the casement opened, and then, with a little cry which penetrated even to my ears, mistress mary came face to face with her lover. i was very happy at the success of this experiment; but i confess i had time to grow very cold before the casement closed again and my lord called cautiously to me to join him. i did this without much trouble, and then showed him how he might reach the ground without danger of falling. soon we stood together in the paved court-yard of the inn, and he grasped my hands in both of his, whilst i could see that his eyes were shining as brilliantly as stars. "dicon," he said, "thou art the best and truest of comrades. i will never forget thy good offices this night." and i felt already abundantly rewarded for what i had done. it was not my place to ask questions, but surely there was no need in face of my lord's joyous and triumphant bearing. he seemed to tread on air. he passed his arm through mine, and drew me forth into the street with him through the arched gateway, which was not closed at night in quiet times; nor did we pause till we reached the bridge and stood looking down into the flowing dark waters together. "i could walk all night for very happiness!" cried the viscount, with that exhilaration of spirit which comes from a deep joy. "can england itself boast a fairer and more gracious maid than my mary? ah, the days will come when my father will rejoice to welcome her as a daughter! none could stand long against such sweetness and beauty." then, his energies having been spent in pacing awhile through the frosty night, we turned our steps homewards. i gained ingress by means of a small side door, the key of which i had in my pocket; and my lord slept that night at the three cups, and rode forth in the morning; whilst a white hand was waved for a moment from a window above the yard, and then quickly withdrawn. the next time that i was able, at will wiseman's eager instigation, to find my way to master simpson's when a meeting had gathered there, i saw lord vere enter arm in arm with mr. hewling; and will gave my ribs a triumphant dig with his elbow as he whispered joyfully,-- "see, we are getting nobles to join us at last. mr. hewling has prevailed with my lord vere." i nodded, keeping my own counsel; but i had a shrewd notion that something else besides the arguments and persuasions of mr. hewling had prevailed to make a convert of the viscount. chapter viii. "_le roi est mort._" "dicon! dicon! come down, lad; come down! the whole town is beside itself, and we want thine eyes and thy tongue here. get up and come down. lose not a moment! heaven help us all if the thing be true!" i was roused from my sleep on a bright february morning by the hearty tones of my uncle's sonorous voice. i lost not a moment in springing up and hurrying into my clothes, for there was an urgency in his manner which betokened that something unwonted was afoot. truth to tell, i was later abed than was my wont, owing to having aided my lord vere to another stolen interview with mistress mary the previous evening, followed by a second stolen interview at mr. hewling's house, where some important letters had been read and discussed, and where mr. speke, from ilminster, had attended, and had given an encouraging report of the state of public feeling in his part of the world. it was now known all over the country, i suppose, that the king was grievously ill and like to die; albeit there were many who declared that he would be given back in answer to the prayers from the churches. i suppose all men who had any sort of love for their country or interest in public affairs felt grave anxiety just at this time. for there could be small doubt that it would go hard but that bloodshed of some kind there would be, were the duke of york to succeed to the throne; and yet there seemed no other to take that place, seeing that the duke of monmouth was an exile, and that he would have to fight for the crown ere he could hope to wear it. men who remembered the horrors of civil war a generation back, the disruption of families, and the bloodshed and confusion, shook their heads mournfully, and advised any submission rather than a repetition of such fearsome things; but we of younger and rasher spirit--we who had never tasted of such horrors, but looked only on the glory and honour to be reaped in warfare--felt very differently. i think i, despite my physical deformities, should have been grieved to the heart had any prophet arisen to say that there would be no fighting in our days. the martial spirit had seized upon me. i, in common with others, watched eagerly the marshalling and exercising of the train-bands and militia whenever they assembled under their leaders; and although we knew right well that they were thus mustered and put through their exercises with a view to showing the towns-folk how useless would be any rising of the rabble, when these bands could at once be brought out to crush it, yet knowing the individual men in the ranks, we were certain that half of them at least were hot in the cause of our duke, and that if the chance for joining him arose, they would come over, arms, ammunition, bright-coloured uniforms, and all. but i must return to that day when the great news reached taunton. i rushed downstairs, finishing my toilet as i did so, to find all the lower rooms filled with excited folk who had come in from the streets the moment the news had got wind, and were so crowding round a travel-stained messenger that it was some time before i could approach near enough to hear what he was saying. but i did not need to do that to know what had happened, for the news was in every mouth,-- "the king is dead! the king is dead! god save us all! the duke of york is proclaimed king in his stead!" "the king was poisoned by his brother!" whispered a voice in the crowd. i know not whence it came; but the word was taken up in the lowest of tones, and one heard it go surging along accompanied by a sort of shuddering sigh, as though men half feared to utter the fearful words. other wild whispers soon got afloat. some vowed it was the queen who had administered the poison in her intolerant jealousy; others, that it was the notorious duchess of portsmouth; but the favourite and most lasting impression of those who believed that foul means had been employed to put the king out of the way, was that his brother the duke had contrived to poison him, either through his snuff or in his food,--and since he was the man of all others to reap advantage from that death, the opinion flourished and gained ground amongst his enemies apace. but crowding round the weary messenger, who had galloped to taunton with the news since noon the previous day, we strove to learn from him every detail of the calamity; and he told his tale again and again. that the king had been out of health since the fall of the previous year was a thing known to all the country. some called it gout, and said it was a matter of small moment; others shook their heads over it, and said it showed a break up of the sound constitution which had hitherto marked the monarch. but although there had been much anxious discussion as to the succession, men were not really prepared for this sudden end to the king's life; and when we heard that he had been only four days actually ill, the end did indeed seem to be sudden. but the terrible thing to us was the story with which the messenger said that all london was ringing--namely, that upon his death-bed the king had been admitted into the romish church; that a priest had been found and brought to him by his brother; and that all the courtiers, with the exception of the earls of feversham and bath, had been turned out of the room whilst extreme unction had been administered, and his majesty confessed and shrived by the priest found with some difficulty for the office. this was indeed grave news; for if the duke of york had acted thus, was there any hope but that he would openly profess the romish faith when he was set upon the throne? at once a vision of smithfield fires rose before the mind's eye of numbers and numbers of those who heard the story. it seemed to us that with a papist king, a man notorious for his cruelty and love of inflicting misery and bloodshed, any sort of horror was possible. what wonder that faces grew pale, that we looked at each other in silent amaze, whilst the women wept aloud and gathered their children into their arms as though to protect them from some menacing peril! "and the king himself, what did he say?" was asked in many quarters. "did he speak of the duke--the duke of monmouth? did he say aught of him and his rights?" the messenger shook his head as this question reached him. the man was one who knew our duke and thought well of him. he was a west country fellow himself, and not yet vitiated by the atmosphere of the court in which he had lived so long. "his majesty called for his other children," said he--meaning, of course, children born out of lawful wedlock; for, as all men know, the queen was childless, to the great grief of the nation--"but of the duke of monmouth no word was spoken. the king did not breathe his name--so, at least, it is averred. none dared to speak of him, the duke of york standing by. nay, my friends, i fear me there is no hope for england in that quarter. the duke of york is king in his brother's stead. but what we may lawfully do to stand by the laws and the rights of our nation and our faith, that let every man do to the utmost that is in him. james may wear the crown and be called king, but we will have no tyrant forcing us to a faith against which we have fought and triumphed years ago. he may rule us indeed, but he shall not make of us papists nor slaves!" a muffled cheer went round the room as these words were spoken; but many were there standing by who did not endorse the first part of the speech, but cast looks one at another which seemed to say that it would go hard before they would acknowledge a papist king! then a news-letter was produced, and i was called upon to read it loud whilst the weary messenger supped. of course it stopped short before the death of his majesty, but it gave an account of the life of the court up till the time of the king's seizure; and gay and scandalous, indeed, did the history of the last sunday evening read to us quiet and sober country folks. women shook their heads as they heard in whose company the king spent his time, and whispered that death had come as a judgment from heaven. yet few eyes were dry as the letter spoke of the sufferings of the king, and of his fortitude and courage under them. "after all he was the king, with all his faults and vices," they said; and we all felt how little there was of kingliness in the dark duke who had succeeded him. i conjured up before my mental vision the picture of the other duke as i had seen him a year or two back, his handsome open face, his winning address, his kindly grace of manner, and his care and love for all his poorer subjects (for so did i call them even now in my heart). how could i help trusting in him as the rightful king, when his touch had made me whole, as only the touch of a true king's hand could do? i found myself telling the story again almost ere i knew it, and the messenger, who was working steadily at the platter of good victuals before him, kept throwing keen glances at me and at the people round, and making odd sounds the while. i had hardly finished the reading, and the telling of my well-known tale, before a little stir in the crowd announced an arrival; and looking over the heads of the people--for i was set upon a stool to be better heard and seen--i beheld the cadaverous visage and lantern jaws of mr. blewer. he came in looking to right and left with his sharp, ferret-like eyes, and his ears seemed to be on the alert to catch any words that might fall from unwary lips. something in the sinister aspect of the man, and in the loathing with which i had come to regard him, caused the words i was reading to die away upon my lips, and the sudden silence which fell upon me attracted the attention of all present to the entrance of the new-comer. mr. blewer was little beloved in taunton. it was firmly held by many that he was nothing more nor less than a spy in the interests of the duke of york, or the king as we must needs learn to call him; unless, indeed--but such things are best not spoken too openly. there were only too many rogues abroad in the world who lived by selling information to one or other of the different parties at court, and men were strongly of the opinion that the rev. nicholas was one of these miscreants. his very appearing so stealthily in our midst at this time of excitement seemed to augur ill, and the murmur of voices died into silence as he made his way into the room. "have a care, good people, have a care!" he said, with a leering smile that was uglier than his scowl. "i thought i heard some suspicious word--some phrases that savoured too much of sedition! have a care how you let your unruly member run away with you! there be birds in the air to carry such words whither ye would not. if god has thought good to take one monarch to himself, he has given us another of the same name and race to set upon the throne. let us thank him from our hearts for this great goodness, and cry aloud in joy and gratitude, 'long live king james!'" as he spoke he lifted his hat and waved it above his head, and all who wore theirs instinctively uncovered, and many amongst us, led by the hearty voice of my uncle, strove to raise the shout, "long live king james the second!" but the words seemed to stick in the throats of many; and mr. blewer looked sharply round upon us, saying, with that evil smile of his,-- "why, that is but a sorry shout for a new-made king; but perchance your loyal hearts are too full yet of grief for our noble king charles to give a right royal welcome to his successor!" "ay, sir," said my uncle; "that is the case with us. we can scarce yet rejoice in the thought that any other sits in the place of good king charles, be he never so great and good a prince. prosperous and peaceful has england been beneath his fatherly sway; and sad are we to learn that he is no more, though i trow that taunton men will not be lacking in loving loyalty to his successor." many asseverations of this kind were made, and the talk grew animated and general. being no longer required to read the news-letter, which mr. blewer had taken into his own hands, i slipped away through the throng, and found myself face to face with will wiseman, who caught me by the arm and drew me forth into the street with him. "it has come then, dicon!" he whispered, evidently in great excitement: "the king is dead, and another king must sit upon the throne. but whether king james the second, as in sooth he will be, will be--" "hist, will, be not so rash!" i exclaimed, drawing him into an entry and looking nervously round; for i had caught some caution from the precept and example of my uncle, and i knew that men had paid dear before now for rash words spoken under stress of excitement. "take heed how thou speakest. if mr. blewer were to hear thee, it might go ill with thee in the days to come." "a pest upon his ugly face and meddlesome, prying ways!" cried will hotly; for he hated mr. blewer even more than i did, and with some reason, since that worthy had done many an ill turn to his master, and had dealt many cuffs and hard words to the lad himself. will, as ill-luck would have it, had in his pocket a piece of chalk, and being gifted with the power of drawing lampoons with a wondrous ease and dexterity, he solaced himself by drawing upon the wall, as we stood, two representations of mr. blewer, in both of which his hideous face, lantern jaws, and great cavernous mouth were delineated with more truth than flattery. in the first of these pictures the clergyman was represented as preaching from the pulpit, the ungainly action of the man being hit off with wondrous fidelity. in the other he was portrayed as being whipped by the hangman at the cart's tail--a fate we had amused ourselves by prophesying for him sometimes when reckoning upon the good days which taunton should enjoy when "king monmouth" should be upon the throne. in both pictures his mouth was equally wide open, and beneath each will wrote, in rude letters,-- "the worshipful and reverend mr. nicholas blewer extolling the divine right of kings." i doubled myself up with laughter at the clever picture, and a small crowd of laughing men and boys gathered round to admire. we were passing comments far from flattering to mr. blewer, and will was touching up his handiwork so as to make the likeness a little more frightful, when a sudden scattering of the bystanders and a few words of whispered warning made us turn suddenly, to see mr. blewer himself regarding us with a baleful light in his eyes, and such a scowl of malevolence upon his brow that i wished will's talents anywhere else at that moment. i drew him away as fast as i could, but not before we heard the harsh, grating tones of mr. blewer's voice following us,-- "very good, will wiseman, very good. it will not be the fault of nicholas blewer if thou dost not taste the discipline of the hangman's whip before he has done with thee." "o will, why didst thou do it?" i asked, in an access of fear and trembling. "my uncle ever teaches us to speak with respect of dignitaries, even though they be none of the best. i fear me we were wrong in this, and shall suffer for it. mr. blewer is not a man who forgives or forgets." "let him remember an he pleases--i care not," answered will, who had a much higher courage than i, and far more of that reckless daring which i read of with envy and admiration, but never attained to myself. it was one of the things i most admired in him, though it sometimes made me fear that he would get into trouble sooner or later. we walked back to his home together, talking eagerly of the great news of the day. personally, we had no especial regrets for his late majesty, and could not but rejoice in the prospect of the coming strife; for that england would calmly accept james duke of york as her king was a thing incomprehensible to us, owing to the element of faction in which we had been living. we ourselves so thoroughly believed in the rights of the exiled monmouth, that we could not credit or understand that these had never been greatly believed in by the mass of the nation, and that the king's brother was likely to obtain all the support of the lovers of established monarchy, as well as of those who, whilst personally regretting the character of the man, would not be a party to a measure of exclusion which should keep the true heir from the throne, or favour a possible usurper. as days went by the excitement did not lessen. all manner of wild rumours were flying about; but from my lord the viscount, who came daily into taunton on one errand or another--in hopes, as i knew, of getting sight or speech of mistress mary--i heard the truest tidings. king james had declared, immediately on succeeding to his new estate, that he would guard the established religion of the country as the choicest treasure of his crown; and a thrill of joy and triumph ran through the country, whilst men swore that the prince had been sorely maligned, and that whatever his wife might be, he was no papist at heart. but then, on the very heels of the first good news, came tidings that the king was going openly to mass with his wife, that the oratory chapel fitted up for her was to be thrown open for public worship, that the papists all over the country were rejoicing, and that banished priests and jesuits were beginning to creep back, certain that good days were in store for them at last. then still more ugly whispers (as some thought) got abroad. the king had consented to summon a parliament, having indeed but small choice in the matter; but it was known in many circles that he had received a large sum of money from the french king in order to make him almost independent of that body, and to bribe and corrupt its members when chosen, that it might be merely an engine for the oppression of the people at the will of a tyrannical monarch. it was steps like these that so roused the scorn and ire of lord vere. had the new monarch been true and upright in his dealings; had he thrown off the fatal yoke of france, and trusted himself to his loyal people as the house of tudor (with all their faults) had ever been able to do, i think that even the gentle pleadings of mistress mary would scarce have served to turn him back from that loyalty to the crown which was his as by natural inheritance. but this crooked statecraft and treacherous dealing roused all the generous indignation and scorn within him which the young are wont to feel when brought face to face with what is base and false. his father and the elder men might shrug their shoulders, and say that these things had to be; that it was part of the essence of kingcraft; that it was useless to hope for better. but the viscount could not take this view of the matter. perhaps he had imbibed more of the opinions and feeling of the towns-folk than he well knew at the time. at any rate, as the days flew by, and we heard more and more of the methods of the new king, a dark frown would often rest upon his brow, and he would say with scornful vehemence, "it is shame that such a man should call himself england's king!" the dissenters of taunton--and they were very many--were thrown into great commotion and wrath at the news of the treatment received at the hands of lord chief-justice jeffreys by that great and good man richard baxter, who was brought before him to answer for some rash words spoken in the indignation aroused by the harsh treatment given him for no other offence than declining to use the book of common prayer in public worship. we had just before heard with horror of the inhuman punishment inflicted by the same judge upon oates and dangerfield. not that we felt sympathy with the vile informers who had brought so many innocent persons to the block, but that the ribaldry and cruelty of the judge filled men with horror; and the more so because we knew that this same judge was likely to come again to the west country for the autumn assizes, and that should any luckless dissenter be brought before him here, he might make up his mind to look for neither justice nor mercy from such a judge. the account of the insults and brutal language to which this aged divine and his friends and advocates were subjected by lord jeffreys made the blood boil in the veins of those who read and those who heard. no jury save one chosen by the miserable sheriffs of london, mere tools in the hand of the government, would have dared to return a verdict of guilty. and when it was known that jeffreys would have had the good old man whipped at the cart's tail through london, had it not been that for once he was overborne by his brethren on the bench, a sense of horror and loathing arose in the minds of honest and merciful men, not only against the wicked judge himself, but against the king who could smile approval on such a debauched servant, and actually associate him with lord guildford, the keeper of the seals, with the evident intention of promoting him still higher if he continued to go about his work in the same way. the elections and the coronation all added to the dismay of the protestant party. it was asserted that the king had so greatly shortened the service that it was most meagre and insufficient, and that this was plainly due to his popish reluctance to take part in any function of the church he had sworn to uphold and revere. his parsimony was bitterly and scornfully commented upon; for the same spirit of greed which had made him refuse the usual splendid obsequies to the late king (so that men spoke of king charles as having received "the burial of an ass"), caused him to do away with much of the pageantry of his own coronation, and greatly was this resented by the people, who were by no means too friendly towards him from the beginning. we of taunton heard these stories with a species of sombre joy. there was more afoot in the city just now than i knew at the time. my uncle kept me busily employed reading and telling the news. i still continued to take the news-letter into miss blake's house and read it to the ladies there. i was often sent errands hither and thither into the country, and kept more busy than i had ever been before; and though i was dimly aware that much was seething below the surface in the hearts of our towns-folk, i was not at all certain whither it was tending. the elections to which i have alluded took place in may, and the returns were most wonderfully against our wishes, and in favour of the tory and court party. the king was said to have got just that sort of packed parliament which he desired, and would in all probability keep it all through his reign. this was a heavy blow to some amongst us, who had hoped that the leaven working through the land would have acted differently. but at least if disappointed, we knew now what to expect. such a parliament as ours would be little better than a tool in the hand of a tyrant monarch. some small protection it might be against the encroachments of arbitrary power, but so small that it was better to hope nothing from it. i must not close this chapter (which i fear has been but a dull one; only these things have to be made something clear, or what follows cannot well be understood) without some mention of a piece of work going on within the walls of miss blake's establishment, which was destined to bring taunton almost as much fame as anything that happened within its environs during the stirring days to come. i had noted that immediately upon the death of the king, whenever i had gone to read to the ladies in the parlour, they were deeply engrossed upon some large pieces of silken embroidery work, something different from anything i had seen in their hands before. mistress mary's was on a large and more gorgeous scale than those of the others, and it was always the same; whilst miss blake's and mrs. musgrave's varied continually, as they seemed to be putting in the outlines of a pattern which other hands would fill up. but mistress mary's steadily grew and grew, and although always carefully covered up, yet revealed much gold and crimson raised work, and altogether began to have such a wonderfully gorgeous effect that i could not keep my eyes from straying to it again and again as i sat and talked. busy as she was, i saw that she noted these glances, and one day just before i was about to leave she gave me one of her rare sweet smiles, and said,-- "come, dicon, thou needst not eat thine heart out in curiosity. i have good reason to know that thou art to be trusted. i will show thee my work." a flush mantled her face as she unpinned and unfolded it, and she added, with a sudden light in her eyes, "it is a banner for my lord of monmouth, when kind providence sends him hither as our deliverer." then she displayed before my eyes the gorgeous golden-worked banner, and i saw that the raised letters surmounted by a crown were none other than these of momentous meaning--j.r. nor could i doubt for a moment that their meaning was "jacobus rex." chapter ix. _the muttering of the storm._ there was a sense of mystery in the air. life seemed to be flowing in its accustomed channels and with its wonted smoothness; but yet there was an under-current of excitement and unrest which surged through everything and kept every heart beating with expectancy, every ear alert to catch the first breath of rumour, every eye eagerly scanning the faces even of the passer-by in the street, lest haply he might be the bearer of those tidings which some of us longed and some of us feared to hear. taunton appeared quiet and peaceable. mr. bernard smith, our mayor, a man of some force of character, some cruelty of nature, and of known loyalty to the reigning sovereign, kept a close watch upon us, and let it be very clearly understood that upon the smallest indication of disturbance he should call in the train-bands and keep order by strong methods. he was seconded in his good intentions by the influence of the country gentlemen round. sir william portman often appeared in the city, and stayed for a few nights in his fine old timbered house, with its many gables, that is still the pride of taunton amongst those who are learned in the matter of domestic architecture. he frequently appeared in the streets, and when occasion served spoke to the people in such a way as to encourage them to maintain tranquillity and avoid giving cause of offence. lord lonsdale and sir ralph bridges followed his example, and were often to be seen in the city, forward to impart to us any items of news from london likely to be acceptable in our ears, and striving to rid our minds of some of the many convictions which recent events had stamped upon them, and especially of that most favourite one--namely, that king charles had met his death by poison, and that this poison had been administered by the hand of his brother. but there are some impressions quickly made upon the minds of men which no after labour will efface. we had heard from trusty men of our own party of the black spots which had appeared upon the king's body, of the agonies of pain which had convulsed him, of the sleepless attendance of his dark brother at his bedside, and we thought we knew better than our mayor or our nobles. so though we listened in respectful silence to their words, our hearts remained unconvinced. we hated the duke of york (for there were some who would not speak of him as the king save where prudence compelled) with a deadly hatred, and prayed day and night for deliverance from his malevolent power. now as for my own private concerns at this time, i may speak once again of those rides taken in attendance upon the two mistresses mary, which began after the inclement winter had passed, and were continued until the great commotion commenced of which i am about to write. these rides were a source of the greatest pleasure and satisfaction to all concerned; for by means of them the viscount was able to prosecute his wooing of gentle mistress mary, and we were no longer reduced to the more risky if more romantic method of the balcony meetings. it was easy for me to let my lord vere know when and whither we were to ride forth. he was backwards and forwards between court house and taunton many times in the week, like most of the gentry round, and i would make shift to give him the news he wanted. then upon our next ride, when we were deep in some woodland dell or away across some lonely bit of breezy moorland, the viscount would ride up, saluting the ladies, and before long the younger mistress mary would rein back her steed and join me, leaving the lovers to pace on in front side by side, in the loneliness so dear to all in like case. mistress mary bridges, albeit but a maid of twelve summers, was wondrous full of life and spirit and imagination. she would talk to me in a fashion which made me marvel at her high courage and dauntless nature; and openly did she lament that she was not a man, so that she might bear a man's part in the struggle which she fully believed was coming. she came of a family loyal to the court party and to the reigning sovereign; yet she had heard so much of the other side from her mistresses and comrades in the school, that she might be said scarce to hold either with one party or the other, and in truth this was what she openly averred to be her case. "if i were but a man," she would cry with kindling eyes, "i would have my own good steed and my own good sword, and i would follow no party, but always fight on the side of right and virtue. i would gather about me a band of followers, as did bold robin hood of old, and i would be the champion of truth and liberty and righteousness wherever such were to be found. i hate that false and cruel king james, who will stoop to fondle such vile creatures as jeffreys and kirke. yet i love not your duke of monmouth, who can keep a crawling knave like ferguson in his counsels, and who leaves his virtuous wife and seeks happiness with another fair lady. were i a man i would follow neither, but be a free lance for the cause of right and liberty!" and the little lady would toss back her ringlets, whilst her face would flush and kindle till i would regard her with admiration akin to awe, and think that a man might well follow such a leader to the death. but with all her high spirit and courage, she was deeply interested in the courtship of the viscount and her dear friend the elder mistress mary, and confided to me that such a gallant lover was worthy of the prize he had won, though there were few men she had ever seen of whom she would say as much. "and i trow they had best be quick and wed, even if it be done in secret and in haste," she said one day to me, one bright day in the latter part of may--the last ride (as it turned out, little as we guessed it then) that we were destined to take together; "for i have heard tell that my lord lonsdale is anxious to push on his son's marriage with mistress edith portman with all the speed that may be. he thinks that the alliance would be desirable and strengthening for both houses; and the lady is more than willing, since the viscount is the most gallant youth in these parts. that is why mr. nicholas blewer's suit has been favoured by lord lonsdale. he is afraid what the beauty of mary may effect if lord vere ever sees her again. he knows nothing of our rides. he believes his son is forgetting her; but he will not be easy in his mind till one or both are wed. what vile things men are!" cried the little lady, with that flash in her eyes which betokened her headstrong spirit; "they think of naught in the world but their own advancement and their selfish ends! it was told to me, dicon, by a wise woman, who read my fortune in my hand and in the stars when i was but a tender child, that i should live to slay a man with mine own hands. i trembled when i heard it, and many a time have i lain awake of a night, shivering at the thought; but i shiver not now. verily i believe i should rejoice to do such a thing were it in a righteous cause. i would it might be the rev. nicholas blewer!" and the maid clinched her right hand and shook it towards taunton, setting her small white teeth with a ferocity which seemed strange in one so young. nor could i greatly marvel at her wrath, for i hated mr. blewer as one hates a poisonous and noxious reptile. he was for ever to be seen gliding here and there with his evil smile and stealthy step; and i was certain that he was playing the spy wherever he had the chance. well did i know that he came to miss blake's as much to seek to learn what was passing there as to court mistress mary. that the ladies knew or suspected his motive i could not doubt, since in his presence the silken banners were never brought forth, nor was any word spoken of the matters so near and dear to our hearts. he himself would strive to entrap us by seeking to lead us to pass censure on the king or his officers, but we were all resolved not to be thus ensnared; and if cold looks and short answers could have driven the creature away, sure mr. blewer would have been long since driven from miss blake's parlour. he would have been denied entrance there had the good ladies dared to refuse it; but it was a perilous thing in those days to make an enemy of such a man, and lord lonsdale's approval of his courtship made it difficult to exclude him. as we rode back into taunton that day--the viscount leaving us ere ever we reached even the outskirts of the place, since he was very careful never to permit himself to be seen in our company--we were aware of a subdued tumult going on there. men and women had gathered at their doors or had come out into the streets. faces were grave and lowering--the faces, that is, of the towns-folk of our fashion of thinking--and one could see that something had occurred greatly to disturb the minds of men. i dared not pause to ask the reason for it. i feared some disaster had befallen our cause; but my duty to my charges kept me riding close beside them, and, of course, they could not pause to pick up the gossip of the streets, though both must have suspected that something unwonted was afoot. but my curiosity was relieved sooner than i anticipated; for will wiseman darted out from a side street at sight of me, and running beside blackbird at a brisk trot, whispered in my ears the news. "they have thrown mr. vincent into prison!" he said. now mr. vincent, as i have before said, was our minister, and a right godly man, beloved of all his flock; moreover, he was one of those who inculcated maxims of moderation, and patience, and submission to lawful authority--one against whom i am very sure it would be hard to prove either sedition or any other offence. and as i exclaimed in amaze and wrath, will continued, speaking in the same rapid undertone only just audible through the beat of blackbird's hoofs, "and they have searched the post-bags here and at ilminster, and they say that they have found in them enough to hang a score of men in taunton alone. dicon, i trow things have gone further than you and i know. the mayor and mr. axe and the gentry have been closeted together this hour and more. heaven send we be not undone! i would give my right hand to know what they have discovered!" "i will meet thee anon and hear all i can learn!" i answered in great excitement; "but let me first home with the ladies. i warrant that mr. blewer has been at the bottom of mr. vincent's arrest. he always hated him with a bitter hatred!" a fresh shock of surprise awaited us upon our arrival at the three cups; for there before the door, looking impatiently up and down the street, stood sir ralph bridges, his horse led up and down by a servant, and several well-stuffed saddle-bags being laid over the shoulder of the man's steed. so soon as he caught sight of the approach of his daughter, he stepped forward and hindered her from alighting, as she was about to do. "i have come to take thee home, mary," he said. "thy place is with thy mother now. say an adieu to thy companion, and we will get gone. these are no days for thee to be in taunton." mistress mary looked quickly into her father's rather stern and preoccupied face as though she would fain have asked more. but it was not for a young daughter to question her father's judgment, and all she did was to ask falteringly,-- "shall i not go to and fro, sir, to continue my studies as heretofore?" for in other years during the summer months she had often ridden to and fro into the town, as i think i have said, though until to-day she had remained since christmas beneath the roof of miss blake's house. "no, child," he answered shortly, though not unkindly; "thou wilt remain at home with thy mother. home is thy place in days such as these." and in hearing the knight speak thus, i was more sure, even than when will wiseman had been whispering to me, that some unwonted peril was at hand. i saw that mistress mary mead's eyes had kindled as she heard these words. i read the thought of her heart as well as if it had been spoken in words. the younger mistress mary turned and flung her arms about her neck ere she slipped from her palfrey, and i heard her whisper in her friend's ear,-- "it is coming, mary, it is coming! heaven send that the cause of right and truth may be victorious! come what may, nothing shall sever our friendship." sir ralph had already mounted, and after saluting mistress mary mead with courteous good-will, he set spurs to his horse and went clattering down the fore street towards north street with his daughter beside him. i escorted mistress mary to her own door and assisted her to alight, and as i did so she said in trembling accents, though it was not fear that made her voice to shake,-- "go, dicon, and learn the truth of all this, and bring me word to my balcony to-night. my heart tells me that the deliverer is near. there were fear and anxiety upon the face of sir ralph; i am very sure of that. the servants of the tyrant are trembling already. we are thrice armed who know our quarrel just." with that she turned and went quickly indoors, leaving me with my heart in a flutter of expectation as i led the palfrey to the stable. will was already there, unable to keep away, and full of the most intense excitement as to what had just transpired. it seemed that captain william speke (the only member of the speke family who took the contrary side from the master of white lackington and head of the family) had made a raid on the post-bags at ilminster--having had notice that suspicious signs had been noted amongst the dissenters of the western counties--and had made discoveries which had caused him to send in all haste to the mayor to counsel him to do likewise. all the taunton letters, however, had been delivered save eight; but one of these eight, addressed to a certain mr. cooke, a good friend of ours, had proved of so incriminating a nature that he was at once summoned before the mayor and magistrates, and obliged to enter into recognizances for a thousand pounds, and find sureties three in number for five hundred each. mr. simpson, mr. hucker, and mr. herring had willingly come forward for this purpose; and will told me that they and the hewlings had gathered in conclave immediately afterwards, and that one of the brothers hewling had already left the town, though upon what errand he did not know. "and what was in the letter?" i asked eagerly. "marry, that i cannot tell you in full. but this much is in all men's mouths, that it spake of the appearance forthwith in the west of a certain person, and that all the court party in london are in a most dreadful fear and confusion. it is rumoured, too, that in scotland the earl of argyll is destroying the king's forces right and left. ah, dicon, dicon! with a monmouth in the south and an argyll in the north, what may not be done in the cause of liberty and right!" this was news indeed, and all seemed to confirm it. as will and i went forth into the streets, we could not but be aware that a great excitement was reigning. the mayor was hurrying to and fro, and many of his burgesses with him, seeming scarce to know what he was doing, yet as it were anxious to be everywhere at once to see that the town was quiet. mr. axe was likewise walking the streets, but in calmer fashion, and he sought everywhere to persuade the people to remain quiet and orderly. the air was full of whispers and rumours. it was confidently believed that the duke was nigh at hand. some said, indeed, that he had already landed, and perhaps might be seen at any moment at the head of a vast army of loving followers marching to the very heart of taunton. i knew not what to believe of all we heard; but that more news had reached taunton than either will or i knew was more and more evident. we made our way to mr. simpson's house, to find lizzie in a great state of joyful excitement; for she had heard enough to make her quite confident that the duke was really coming at last. there had been a collection made of money amongst her father's friends--that she was very certain of; and one of the brothers hewling, she was not sure which, had ridden off with it to the coast, ready to meet the duke on his landing. thomas dare had had a letter from his father several days ago, in which he had told his son that there had been some trouble in persuading the duke to take up arms against his uncle. he had been greatly distressed at hearing of his father's death, and had declared at first that, since things were as they were, he should retire into private life, and seek no more to establish what rights he might justly claim. the prince of orange had counselled him in this, and the only question under dispute at first was whether the duke should or should not seek to win distinction in arms by fighting under the emperor against the turks, or whether he should retire to sweden with lady henrietta wentworth, who had followed him into exile, and to whom he considered himself married in the sight of god, and live there in honourable banishment. this course of action had been vehemently opposed by heywood dare, who represented to him that all the west country would rise in his favour if he would but show himself there. money and men would flow in in streams, so dare declared he had affirmed, and he called upon his son in strong and eloquent language to do whatever in him lay to get together men and money and arms, that when their deliverer should appear he might find there had been no idle boasting on the part of the citizen of taunton. this letter had been read with closed doors amongst a select few some weeks ago, and thomas dare had been already absent from the town almost ever since, beating up recruits, and preparing the hearts of friends for what might be expected shortly. all this had been made known to-day to lizzie by her aunt, and she was as full of the excitement as we were. she told us now fully and freely of the seven-and-twenty banners being worked by the hands of the maidens of the school, and how they hoped to present them in person to the gallant young duke when he should appear in triumph at taunton, as it was fully believed he would do, and that right quickly. how our hearts burned within us as we listened! we could not keep still, nor remain long in one place. we were out in the streets erelong, eagerly picking up every scrap of news, and finding that rumours were flying about as thick as hail in a summer storm. public indignation was rising hot against the court and the king. not only had the arrest of our mr. vincent greatly incensed the towns-folk, but there came citizens from ilminster to tell of the attempted arrest of mr. john trenchard at white lackington house, and how a tumult had been made, and the sheriffs forced to run without having secured their prisoner. again and again were old grievances raked up--the scandalous trial of richard baxter, not many weeks old; and the notorious cruelty and tyranny of the king. "heaven will fight for us and for monmouth!" men whispered to each other. and indeed i think that it was our hearts that were glad and triumphant, and those of our enemies that were full of fear as the day waned: for the mayor looked pale and harassed and full of anxiety, i thought; whilst as for mr. blewer, he was so hooted in the streets when he showed his ugly face there, that he hastily retired to his lodgings, and we saw him no more. "will," i said, as the sun went down, and we felt so little inclined for sleep that the very idea of bed was a mockery, "what sayest thou to a ride across the moorland to-night by moonshine, and a visit to the witch, to know what she can tell us of what is coming? methinks i shall stifle within doors; but blackbird and lady jane will carry us rarely, and i can loose them, none knowing it, by a little care. wilt come with me?" will simply jumped at such a proposal. he was as loath to think of bed as i was, and he could ride a horse barebacked right well--saddle and stirrups were abominable to him. in the excitement and stir about the inn, i had no trouble in getting the horses out after nightfall; and making excuse of fatigue to my uncle, i stole away as if to bed, but was soon mounted and scudding through the dim lanes by the side of will, whilst the moon rose higher and higher in the sky, giving us abundant light. the good steeds, delighting in the freshness of the night air, went willingly and easily; and blackbird, so soon as we had passed the ridge of the hill and were nearing his old home, became as playful and skittish as a young kitten. but it was not homewards that our steps were bent. the farm-house at such an hour would be fast sleeping, and i had no desire to wake up the sleepers. it was mother whale i desired to find and consult, and unless she were abroad upon her broomstick, she would like enough be awake at her fireside concocting her spells and potions; as, indeed, we found to be the case. tethering our horses outside, we lifted the latch and went in, the old woman not even turning her head as we did so, but speaking our names, as though she had eyes in the back of her head, and by some occult magic knew every person who approached. "good-even, dicon snowe, and thou, lad will. have a care, will, lest thou repent thy rashness in tears of blood ere the year be done. what have you come for, boys? what is your errand here? there be fine doings at taunton, and will be finer yet. but beware the evil eye that will overlook it--ay, and thee too, will, ere this chapter close." i do not make any effort in these pages to try to give the soft speech and drawling vowel sounds of our west country tongue, not having the skill to spell the same word two ways. i can but follow the model given me by the bible and those works of the great poets i have named, and let those who know the speech of the west figure it for themselves. it takes a greater skill than i possess to set it down here. "mother," i said, "we have come to ask thee to read us that chapter. how will the day turn? which duke will be england's king? we know that thou canst read the future in the stars, and the cards, and the crystal. prithee tell us what will betide, and whether the friends or the foes of liberty and religion will triumph." it was a bold question; but i had not come empty-handed, and i slipped the golden guinea lord lonsdale had given me into the witch's palm. she looked at it with glistening eyes. money was dear to the heart of the old woman, and i did not doubt for a moment that i should get my guinea's worth out of her; for i verily believed that she read the future as i read the page of an open book. she bent over the pot, crooning to herself, and seeming to take no heed of us; but i silenced will's exclamation of impatience by a warning sign, for i knew the old woman and her ways, and that nothing was to be gained by trying to hurry her. at last the great black cat beside the fire jumped upon her shoulder and seemed to whisper in her ear. i confess that a tremor ran through me, for i verily believed that her familiar was speaking to her, and that we were in the presence of some satanic agency. a minute or two later she threw her arms above her head, and began to speak in detached sentences, filling up the pauses by a strange crooning chant, wordless and unintelligible. "blood will be shed--much blood ... but the glory will come first.... a king will rise and a king will fall.... and blood shall run freely, ay, even as from a slaughter-house. heads shall be lifted up.... oh, they shall be raised on high for all the world to see!... a brave show, truly! a brave young king.... and he who now sits upon the throne shall die in exile and disgrace." that was enough for us. we had heard just the answer we wanted, and the old woman lapsed into a silence which no questions served to break, so we bade her good-even, and went forth again into the night. "the king will die in exile! dicon, if she be a true witch, we are to see good days yet," cried will, dancing in the moonlight like a wild thing. "blood and glory, and the rise and fall of kings! ah, heaven be praised that i live in such goodly days! dicon, dicon, let us raise a shout for king monmouth. hurrah for the good cause and the king! god save him and us all!" chapter x. _my ride to lyme._ i returned to find my uncle not a little disturbed in mind. the mayor had summoned the burgesses to meet him in council upon the morning following my visit to the witch; and my uncle looked harassed and anxious upon his return, and paced moodily up and down the passage--a thing most unusual with him--whilst his jovial face looked more perturbed than i had ever seen it before. my good aunt regarded him with troubled eyes, wondering if evil had befallen him; and meg anxiously whispered in mine ear, asking if i knew what was amiss. but though i knew that all the town was in a fever of excitement and expectation, and that it was confidently supposed that the landing of the duke was near, i did not know why my uncle should be more disturbed than other men, nor why his anxiety and fear should be greater. towards noon there was a great commotion in the streets, and we heard the tread of marching footsteps and the sound of horse-hoofs on the hard road between the houses. rushing out in great excitement, willing to believe that the duke was actually entering the town, i was in time to see several companies of the militia, in their gay uniforms with red and yellow facings, marching towards the cornhill, followed by one company of horse. but, alas! it was plain to see that they were not only not led by the duke, our expected deliverer, but that they had been brought in to overawe us and keep order in the town, and prevent us from rising in the cause of the deliverer when he should appear. they were led by gentlemen of known loyalty, and behind the horsemen rode viscount vere in all the bravery of a semi-military dress. but i noted that his face wore a clouded expression, and there were stern lines about his mouth that i had not seen there before. he rode between his father and one of the portman family; but i observed that he spoke to neither, and that he wore an air of aloofness and offence that was rather strange to see. "uncle, the train-bands have come into the town!" i cried in great excitement, rushing back into the inn. "didst thou know they were to be called out?" "ay, boy, i knew it," he answered, the cloud still hanging heavy on his brow; and then, we being alone together for the nonce, he spoke with more freedom and openness than he had ever shown to me before. "i tell thee, dicon, i am in a great strait what to think and how to act. i would fain keep out of this struggle and strife. what am i to judge betwixt prince and prince? when the great and learned of the land are at variance, and know not the truth of the matter, how can a simple man who has never meddled with high things come to a knowledge of the truth? i would have none of it could i help it. but the plague of such times is that men will not let you be. here is our mayor on one side reproaching me with being a dissenter, and lukewarm in the cause of the king--a matter like to get me into trouble by-and-by should ill befall this expedition of which all men speak; whilst those of the duke's side trust me not, and fall into a sudden silence at sight of me. and should he win the day, none will have a good word for me with him, nor say that i was forward in his cause. i am like to get nothing but ill-will from both sides, and all because i would fain manage my own affairs and leave those of the nation alone. it is a hard thing that a man should be so ill thought of simply for attending to his own business, and meddling not with matters too hard for him." sooth to say, and put in that fashion, the case did seem hard. but mine uncle was something in the position of the ass in the fable with the two bundles of hay. he had been striving all this while to eat of both, and yet to make choice of neither; and the consequence was that he was now in the position of one not trusted by either party, and not prepared to throw in his lot decidedly with either. by training and choice he was a dissenter, and would gladly have welcomed the duke of monmouth as england's king. but he was a long-headed and far-sighted man, and did not think that the power of the reigning sovereign would be as easily overturned as his townsmen fancied, wherefore he was fearful of allying himself with them in their designs. he would fain have rested strictly neutral, and that indeed was his purpose; but it was more difficult each day to avoid making open declaration on one side or the other, and he began to see that if the duke really landed and marched to the town, it would be increasingly hard to stand aloof from both parties. "if only i knew which way the day would turn!" he said, pacing restlessly up and down. "i tell thee, boy, i would serve the duke, and be glad to do so; but i am not ready to be ruined for such as he. my business and my goods are more to me than all these questions of kingship and policy. i love not black king james, and i know we may suffer under his sway; but how do we know that we should do better under another? and civil war is a more terrible ill and calamity than a little tyranny and a few unjust imposts. let well alone, say i; and nothing very bad has followed king james's accession. i like not the thought of stirring up strife. yet if strife must come, i would fain be found on the right side--if i could but know which that was!" and by the right side my uncle meant the victorious one, as i very well knew. well, it is not of such stuff that heroes and patriots are made. but then my worthy uncle never professed to be either; and a man who has toiled and laboured to get a good business together, and to stand well with those around him, has many excuses for feeling loath to see all swept away for what may seem to him a fantasy or a dream. i could scarce wonder at his words, though i was all for fighting and dying in a noble cause, and was glad that heaven had not made of me a man of substance, who feared the loss of goods more than the grinding heel of a tyrant usurper. i could afford to feel pity for my uncle's perplexities. i was sorry for him, and longed to be able to relieve him. "if i did but know more of the feeling of the country!" he said. "i hear such contrary reports. our mayor tells me that it is but just in a few places here and there in the land that men are for the duke, and that the nation at large will have none of him; whilst others say they have full information that the widespread discontent is ready everywhere to burst into a flame, and if the duke do but land he may march straight to whitehall if he will, and by the time he reaches it, will have all the nation and all london at his back. if that indeed were so--" "uncle!" i cried, struck by a sudden inspiration, "let me fare forth on blackbird, and reap what news i can as i go, and bring thee word again. let me to the coast, where the duke, they say, will shortly land, if he be not landed already; and as i go let me ask news of all men--how things are going all over the country, and what men are saying, and what is doing. i am but a lad. i shall not rouse suspicion, and blackbird knows not how to tire. let me go, and i will bring thee word again, or ever the duke appear, how the chances of the day seem like to go. i will talk with men of every degree. sure i shall gain information worth the having!" now this plan, so congenial to my restlessness and excitement, took the fancy of my uncle; and he forthwith slapped me on the shoulder, and said i was a smart lad and a credit to the family, hunchback or no hunchback. and then he took money from his purse and gave it me, and bid me see well to blackbird, and make a start upon the following morning, the day being now drawing to its close. he was pleased to think of any plan that might relieve him in some sort of his anxieties. he could remain for some days longer without committing himself to either party, and perchance i might reap information for him which should decide him whether or not openly to embrace the cause of the duke, towards which his private leanings were. it was reported that several persons had already left taunton, and it was shrewdly suspected that they were going forth with the prospect of meeting the duke. when i went to master simpson's shop that evening to tell will wiseman of my plan, i heard the master hucker had gone, and young dare, and that he believed his own master would not be long in following. will did not know whether any place of landing had been yet settled, but he had heard a whisper of lyme more than once; and it seemed a likely place, being far smaller and less like to be watched than weymouth, and much nearer to taunton, which had the glorious reputation of being the city most in earnest in its loyal attachment to the noble protestant cause. lizzie came and joined us, and said she was certain her father meditated a speedy journey; and hearing that i too was bound for the coast, she became greatly excited, bid me strive to be amongst the first to welcome the gracious and noble duke, and finally took a ribbon from her neck, and fashioned it into a rosette for my hat. lizzie and i, i must explain, had for many a day made a pretence of being lovers, and i now felt like a knight going forth on his first feat of arms; so it seemed right and fitting that his lady-love should thus adorn him by her token, as lizzie had decorated me. with the first light of the morrow blackbird and i rode out of taunton, will wiseman trotting beside us for the first mile of our journey, and only wishing that he could be my companion all along. glad enough would i have been of his company, but i was not altogether sorry that this could not be. will had a vein of rashness and daring about him that was lacking in me, despite all my brave imaginings; and on the mission upon which i was bent, discretion was needed almost as much as valour. i resolved to ride leisurely to ilminster this first day, which was the first day of june . i should learn from my aunt and her friends what was the feeling in that city. and i meant to join company with all of my own degree, or those inferior to me, upon the road, and glean from them all the news that i could. in particular i was minded to question all those who came from the devonshire border. for we knew that the duke of albemarle, who was the king's deputy-lieutenant of that county, and his very loyal general, was at exeter with a fine body of train-bands and other troops, and it was of importance to us of taunton to know whether he proposed to move out from that city in our direction. one traveller whom i encountered at a cross-road, and who lingered awhile to talk with me, declared his belief that if the duke were to lead his forces against the person of the duke of monmouth, and his men were to see that loved face in the opposite ranks, they would all go over as one man to join him; and that the duke of albemarle most likely knew something of the temper of his soldiers, and would be very careful how he brought them into action against the duke of monmouth. they did very well for keeping the town and district quiet; but he did not believe they would ever take the field against the champion of the protestant religion, and against one they persisted in looking upon as their late king's lawful son. this was excellent news, and sent me on my way glad at heart. if this indeed was the temper of the soldiers against whom the duke might have to fight, his march would speedily become the triumphal progress his friends had foretold. shortly after i had parted from this traveller with expressions of mutual good-will, i heard upon the road behind me the beat of approaching horse-hoofs. plainly the rider was either in some considerable haste, or labouring under the stress of hot emotion, for he was galloping at a great pace. i pulled on one side of the narrow track which we called a road, and which at this time of year was passable enough, and turned in my saddle to look at him, when, lo and behold, as he approached i saw that it was none other than my young lord viscount vere. great was my surprise to see him riding thus alone and in haste, and with that same clouded look upon his face which i had noted yesterday; and yet more surprised was i to learn, a few minutes later, what had brought him here. on seeing me he drew rein, and a smile broke over his face which was like a ray of sunshine breaking through storm-clouds, and he gave my shoulder a friendly pat, crying out,-- "ha, dicon man, well met! and whither art thou away? are we travelling the same road? if so, let us join forces. i am tired of my own company and my own black thoughts. tell me whither thou art bound, and what is thine errand." i told him all, and he listened to the story of my uncle's perplexities with his gay smile of amusement; but when i had finished he gave me a glance of a different sort, and said,-- "canst guess whither i am bound, good dicon?" i shook my head, for i had been wondering all the while whither he could be going at such a time, when the gentry were all gathered about the city to strive to keep the peace. "marry, to join company with the duke of monmouth when he lands!" cried the viscount, with a quick flash of the eyes such as bespoke a mind much disturbed. and upon my uttering an exclamation of surprise, he broke forth with much heat of manner,-- "ay, they have driven me to it! they have driven me to it with their plots and plans and projects! there is but one way of cutting the knot, and cut it i will at all hazard! my mary's blessing and sweet approval go with me and rest upon me! i have done with the old life. the new may be what it will, but mary and mary's weal are bound up in it, and therefore i fare forth fearlessly. when i return i make her my wife, be the issue of this venture what it may. i saw her last night, and had speech of her; and i care for nothing now, so as i win and hold her love. what is the evil black tyrant james to me that i waste in his cause my youth and my strength, and lose the lady of my choice? rightful monarch he may be, but a vile creature, unworthy the name of king! i will none of him! i will none of them and their machinations! henceforth i am my own man, and i win mary, or perish in the attempt!" it took me some time to learn from this excited outburst the truth of the whole matter, but bit by bit i made it out. nor could i wonder at the way in which the young man, badgered and beset, had cut the knot of his difficulties and perplexities. it seems that some treacherous spy had reported to lord lonsdale that the viscount had been seen riding with mistress mary mead in lover-like fashion; that this had so alarmed and angered him that he and his friends had forthwith put their heads together; and when sir william portman returned from london a few days back, after having been there for the opening of the parliament, of which mention has been made, he brought back with him the marriage contract, duly drawn up, for an alliance between his daughter and viscount vere, and ever since the young man had had no peace because this contract must be signed, and the marriage celebrated with what speed the times would allow. now it is not in my young lord's nature to be brutal; and the lady was as willing and eager for so fair a husband as he was reluctant to have her. to his father he had spoken roundly, but had been treated in a high-handed fashion, as though he were but a refractory boy, and must be reduced to obedience. yet this is not the treatment which can succeed with natures like my lord the viscount's, and he had been put into a great heat and anger. last evening there had been a banquet at sir william's house in taunton, and he had been one of the guests. at the board open allusion had been made to the approaching nuptials of the viscount with mistress edith, whose bright eyes gave ready and eager response to the good wishes and gratulations of her friends. nor could the gentle and chivalrous young lord speak open despite to the lady before her kinsfolk, and do insult to her and to his manhood. but his blood had boiled within him at the intolerable position in which he had been placed; for he had believed beforehand that the banquet was for the officers of the train-bands and the gentlemen who had come into the city to help to maintain order, else he never would have gone. being thus trapped, and as it were committed to a match to which he never could consent, there seemed to him but one way out of the difficulty, and that was one to which his reckless, defiant mood inclined him, as well as the knowledge that it would be of all others the measure most likely to be approved by his own true lady. he knew that, let him once be accounted as a rebel, the prudent sir william would none of him for a husband for his daughter; whilst mary would regard him the more tenderly for all he might lose or suffer in the good cause. disgusted by the treachery, chicanery, and avarice of the reigning king, eager after the excitements and the glory of warfare, and keenly moved by the expected approach of one who was looked upon in so many quarters as the deliverer of his country, it was small wonder that the viscount had flung prudence to the winds, and had resolved to fling in his lot with the duke who was about to come to the help of the perplexed nation. i had no difficulty at all in understanding and sympathizing with the step; my only regret was that he came alone, and not with a gay and gallant following such as beseemed his rank and station. but he smiled a little grimly as i spoke of this. "nay, dicon lad," he said, "if i be walking into the lion's jaws, i will e'en walk thither alone, and not bring a luckless following of poor knaves after me. heaven alone knows what the issue of this day's work will be; but all that i have heard on this vexed question tends to the belief that england will not have your duke for king, like she her present monarch never so little! if that be so, there will be lives lost and heads will fall--it may be mine amongst others. but no other man shall lose his life through fault of mine. i might have brought a score, perhaps a hundred gallant followers into the field, but i would not tempt one to what may be his doom. let each man choose his own lot in the struggle. i have chosen mine, but i will be answerable for none other besides." this speech was not a very blithe one, and showed me well that the viscount had more fears than hopes for the issue of the contest. yet having once joined with us, i knew he would never turn back; and i thought that a few more such gallant leaders as he might turn the fortunes of any campaign. we spent that day in company, my lord and i. at the inn where we baited our horses and refreshed ourselves i passed as his servant, and we both, in different capacities, gleaned all we could from those we met. my lord told me afterwards that he saw small indication of any eagerness on the part of the gentry to flock to the welcome of the duke when he should appear. they were all for maintaining law and order and the tranquillity of the districts in which they lived; but i, on the other hand, heard from the common people of a great joy and gladness in the thought of the coming arrival, and everywhere it was whispered that the soldiers would desert to his standard almost to a man, whilst every rustic or shopkeeper in country or town would raise a shout for king monmouth, and fight for him through thick and thin. wherefore i was more hopeful than my lord of the issue of the contest, and he listened to me with a smile, and said,-- "ay, ay, good dicon, believe all thou hearest, and keep up a good heart; there is nothing like it for making brave soldiers at a pinch. thinking the day won beforehand sometimes proves the best way of winning it at the last." but i could see that my lord did not think it won yet. at ilminster i persuaded him to accept, for one night at least, the humble hospitality of my aunt's roof. he smilingly thanked me and accepted, for he was always of a gentle and affable nature towards his inferiors. great was the joy of my good aunt, mrs. betsy marwell, when we rode up to her door and i asked her good offices not only for myself, but for my lord the viscount, whose gallant air, brave raiment, and nodding plumes entirely captivated her from the first moment, and made her eager to put her whole house at his disposal. however, he had no following, as he explained to her; and for himself, he asked permission to join us at the board. this was not what my aunt would have chosen, since she would have loved to serve him herself almost on bended knee, i think; but he was allowed his own way when he asked it with such graceful courtesy. we were soon seated together at such a supper-table as methinks can only be found in the hospitable west country; and my lord was paying his attention to our hostess, and making her beam and almost blush for pleasure at being so addressed by a lord, and such a handsome and dashing one to boot; whilst i did ample justice to the noble repast, and felt proud of my kinswoman and of the manner in which she had been able to receive us. my lord acceded to her desire that he would remain with her as long as business kept him at ilminster; and he stayed two nights beneath her roof, winning golden opinions from all who saw him, and leaving us quite sorrowful upon his departure. i did not accompany him for two reasons: one being that he did not ask me, and i feared to force myself upon him against his will; another, that my aunt was resolved to keep me yet a few days longer. and as i was every day suffered to ride far afield and to pick up all sorts of odd but useful bits of information, i was the more willing to do so. it was quite plain that the duke could not yet have landed, at any rate upon this coast, or we should have known it of a certainty ere now. i was anxious to be there to witness his landing when it did take place; but i could not well refuse my aunt's request, and so i lingered nigh upon a week at her house, pleasantly assured that ilminster was loyal to the good cause, although perhaps not quite so fervent and warm as the city of taunton. my next halt was at chard, whither my aunt had sent me with a note to a trusty friend of her own, who gave me lodging for two nights, and put me in the way of obtaining all such information as i desired. i could feel the growing excitement of the people, and i hoped that the duke would not tarry much longer. men are apt to grow faint-hearted or cold if disappointment and delay fall upon their first ardent longings. it was now nigh upon fourteen days that we had been expecting tidings of the landing of the duke, and still he came not. axminster was my next halting-place, and here i found the temper of the people very hot and eager. there was an independent chapel there of some importance, and a martial minister, whose name i cannot recall, who was fervent in the cause of the duke, and who had given out that he himself would lead forth the men of his flock to join the standard of liberty when it should be set up, and that he would fight to the last drop of his blood in the righteous cause. i heard here, too, all the old stories about the poisoning of the king, and the manifold crimes laid to the charge of james now on the throne. the mind of the people was inflamed against the sovereign almost more hotly than i had seen it yet out of taunton. one gentleman was known to have store of arms and ammunition in his house, and it was whispered that upon certain news arriving of the landing of the duke, he would arm his sons and his household forthwith, and any able-bodied men who should desire it, so long as his stores held out; and that he would then march at the head of this band, and tender his and their services to his grace. i was fast catching the infection of hot partisan spirit, and feeling more and more certain of the righteousness of our cause and the certainty of ultimate success. there is a strong impression in the minds of all communities that if the mass of the nation are in favour of a cause, that cause will ultimately triumph. i have seen the growth of this conviction during my long life, and i trow that those who come after will see its further development. whether for good or for ill it is not for me to say, but the people begin to whisper that the power is theirs, and that the voice of the people is the voice of god. it was not put so in the days of which i now speak, but the citizens would lay their heads together and boldly say that they had triumphed over kings before in a righteous cause, and they would triumph again. i listened, and i believed them, and sometimes felt as though the day were well-nigh won. and in this mood, on one bright evening in june, i found myself riding into the pretty little sea-board town of lyme. chapter xi. _our deliverer._ i had seldom been so near the sea as i was now approaching, and for a moment the boundlessness of the horizon, the sweep of sky and sea, the outline of coast, and the tranquil beauty of the summer's afternoon, filled my senses and drew my thoughts temporarily away from the more personal and exciting matters upon which they had dwelt so long. but as i sat blackbird on the brow of the green eminence which overlooked lyme, and saw the little town nestling as it were beside the blue sea, groups of trees giving beauty and variety to its aspect, and the brooding peace of a cloudless summer's day seeming to rest upon it, i became aware of a small stir behind me, and turning my head saw that a party of some twenty rustics, with flushed faces and damp brows, had come swinging up from below; and as soon as they were within speaking distance the foremost called out to me, asking me, in the broadest and softest of dorset drawl, whether i could tell him where the duke was to be found. "us have heard that he's coomed," he explained, wiping his brow, and shifting to the other shoulder the great scythe he carried. five of his companions carried scythes, and three or four sickles, whilst the rest had a miscellaneous assortment of weapons such as bill-hooks and picks. one had an ancient carbine, which looked better able to slay the person who fired it than any other; and a tall lad, with the face of one whose wits were not all under command, brandished with an air of fierce triumph the broken remnant of what had once been a sword. "they du tell we that he's coom, and us be going tu join him," panted the first speaker as the rest came up. "happen thee may be able tu put us in the way of finding him. thee be bound on the same errand, i take it, young master." "as for that, i have come to seek the duke," i answered, forgetting all else now in the excitement of the news just imparted; "but i knew not that he had yet landed, nor where. what dost thou know of it, good fellow?" "us heerd tell as he'd landed at lyme. us have come out to fight for un," was all the answer i could get; and being unable to extract more, and consumed with curiosity to know more of the matter, i wished them a good journey, and set spurs to blackbird, heading straight down the slope of the down and towards lyme. i saw in the bay there two or three white-sailed vessels, and this in itself seemed to give weight to what the men had said. those white-winged messengers might have brought our deliverer to us; and with ever-increasing excitement and eagerness i drew near to the place, and was more and more certain that rumour had this time not played me false, but that some unwonted commotion was on foot. i passed numbers of groups of rustics more or less like my first friends, all hastening in one direction; and the question on all lips was not whether the duke had come, but where he was to be found. that in itself was significant, and seemed to show that something had really happened to awake such certainty in the minds of the people; and very soon this certainty was confirmed by a strange and goodly sight which presently burst upon my eyes. just to the east of the town, and hard by the church which raised its square tower heavenwards, was a wide expanse of greensward which went by the name of church cliff. men tell me that since those days a part of this same cliff has slipped into the sea, and that more is like to follow. be that as it may, when i saw it, many long years ago now, it was a pleasant green plateau, spacious and convenient for the assembly of a multitude of persons; and to-day it presented an aspect which i trow it has never done before, and never will again--particularly if it is like to be engulfed by the hungry waves! on a small eminence nigh to the church, but not too near for convenience, fluttered in the light summer breeze a banner or standard--for i am not learned in the right names of these things. all i know was that it was planted upon a tall halberd, and floated in the breeze with a gentle swaying motion. even from a distance i could see that there were letters emblazoned upon it; but only later on, when i was able to come anigh it, was i able to read the device, which ran as follows: "_pro religione et libertate._" the meaning of that (as i had occasion to explain to many an unlettered hind ere the day closed) was, "for religion and liberty," those two precious gifts to men which the rule of the present monarch so greatly imperilled. but the standard was not the only thing that took the eye of the spectator. the field was gay with gathering crowds of people of all degrees. hard by the standard stood a group of gentlemen, as i could see by the colours of their riding coats, and the plumes in their hats. my heart beat as i scanned them. could the duke indeed be one of these? it looked like it, for it was towards this group that the crowds were for ever pressing. and plainly there was some order observed in the method of approach; for there was no jostling or crowding in the immediate proximity of this small group, but persons from the crowd seemed to be detached from it and brought up one by one, and then to melt away into the press again, as though their turn had come and gone. as i advanced ever nearer and nearer, losing my vantage as i drew more close, and finding myself gradually drawn into the throng of eager watchers, i heard men talking one to another, and this was the burden of their talk:-- "the duke! the duke! he is enlisting recruits. all the country is flocking to him! heaven be praised, our deliverer is come! down with the tyranny of the false usurper! a monmouth! a monmouth!" and this cry was ever and anon taken up by all, and went surging through the crowd like a mighty thunderclap. "a monmouth! a monmouth! god save the noble duke! god fight for the righteous cause! a monmouth! a monmouth!" i caught the enthusiasm of the people, and forgetting all about mine uncle's errand, the prudence inculcated by him, and the mission on which i had been sent, i flung my cap into the air and shouted aloud for the duke as lustily as any. then finding that i could not make shift to get nearer to him on horseback, for the press was very great, i dismounted and turned blackbird loose on the greensward, knowing well that he would let none but me catch him again, though he would come at my whistle like a dog, and gradually approached to the floating standard, eager above all things else to look once more upon the face of the duke. little by little i made my way into the forefront of the crowd, which had made a ring round the standard and the group near to it, and kept an orderly and respectful bearing, only breaking out from time to time into the joyous shouts of which i have made mention. one of such shouts was being given as i wormed and twisted myself into the foremost ranks, some good-natured spectators making way for me because that i was small of stature, and could not otherwise witness what was passing. "a monmouth! a monmouth!" shouted the crowd, tossing caps and waving kerchiefs. "down with popery! down with tyrants! down with all usurpers! a monmouth! a monmouth!" and as the people thus shouted, he who stood in the centre of the gay group about the standard lifted his plumed hat with a courtly grace and smiled upon us with a winning kindliness and confidence that made the populace redouble their shouting; and only after several minutes had gone by was comparative silence restored, and proceedings went on as before. these were simple enough. a man would step forward and ask leave to enlist in the duke's army. his name would be asked, and duly inscribed in a roll which was being kept by a busy scribe. if he had any arms, he was bidden to one part of the field; if not (as was generally the case), he was sent to another, and was equipped with some sort of weapon from the stores brought over by the duke or obtained for him by his confederates here. we believed then that he had arms and ammunition for half england, should so many flock to his standard, and at least for the equipment of as many thousand soldiers as he wanted. it was only later on that we heard that arms had speedily run short, and that scythes stuck upon poles, and other barbarous makeshifts, had to be substituted for the regular weapons of true soldiers. my friends the rustics came up in due course, and were enrolled in the list; and the duke had a smile and a pleasant word for each, so that every man believed himself known and remembered by his grace, and every mouth was filled with his praises. the difficulty seemed to be in getting the names set down fast enough; and as that fact dawned upon me i plucked up my courage, for being in a state of great excitement and exhilaration, almost like intoxication, by the stress of my feelings, i forgot everything but my desire of winning the approbation of the duke, and doing somewhat in the good cause. so i stepped up before him, making a low reverence, without waiting to be led or bidden by those who were marshalling up the recruits. "well, my good lad, and art thou come to make a soldier in our ranks?" asked the duke, with that pleasant smile which had beamed upon me once before in my life. "who art thou, boy, and what is thine errand?" "may it please your grace, i am the boy whom your gracious touch did cure of the king's evil five years agone, and who has never ceased to bless you for that gracious act. nature has not been pleased to grant me the strength or the stature for a soldier, but i can make shift to wield a pen with any scribe, and would humbly ask that i might help in this matter of writing down the names." "well thought, boy," answered the duke. "our worthy scribe there will be right glad of thy help. there be so many come to join us that his labours are something severe. where dost thou hail from, boy, and what news dost thou bring of the temper of the country?" for my travel-stained garments, and the dust upon my clothing, showed that i had come some distance; and though the duke's smile was full of light and confidence, methought there was something of anxiety in his eyes. "all the people be very eager and forward in the good cause, your grace, and rejoice to think you near," i answered. "i myself come from taunton, where your friends muster strong. but axminster and ilminster are almost as forward to give you welcome, as you will find when you pass through them. but taunton will give you royal honours, and i pray you tarry not longer than need be ere you set foot in that queen of cities." the duke's face lightened at my answer; and truly i spoke only as i felt, and i had no thought to tell more than the truth. looking round on this crowd of gallant officers and gentlemen, and seeing the hundreds pressing to join the standard, how could i feel that the duke had aught but a triumphal march before him? he rewarded my confidence by taking me by the hand, and calling me a right brave and honest lad, whom he should remember in days to come; and then, whilst my hand was still tingling with the pressure, and my heart leaping for triumph and joy, i was given a place beside the other scribe, and commenced my duties as writer of names. i know not how long i had been writing when a hand was laid upon my shoulder, and a familiar voice spoke in my ear,-- "dicon lad, dicon snowe, is this the way in which thou dost follow the behests of thy prudent uncle? is this how thou dost cater for true news for him? is this how thou dost prudently wait the issue of events ere thou dost declare for one side or the other?" looking up quickly--for the enlisting was well-nigh done for the day, and there were few left to be enrolled--i encountered the gaze of my lord the viscount's dark-blue eyes fixed full upon me with a glance half of reproach, half of humorous amusement. truth to tell, i had indeed forgotten my character of scout, and had flung myself into the very thick of the movement; though the future alone could say whether men would come to call it by the name of victorious revolution or seditious rebellion. i had been carried away by the excitement of the scene and by my personal bias, and i had thrown to the wind alike the prudence inculcated by my uncle and the diplomacy i had promised to exercise on his behalf. nevertheless i had not betrayed myself, and i had not enlisted as a soldier; for who would enlist a hunchbacked lad like me? nor had i even told my name, it not having been asked of me; so that i was not exactly committed to aught. yet i felt a thrill of shame run through me, as though i had in some sort betrayed trust; and i said to my lord with some humbleness,-- "my uncle shall not suffer aught through any act of mine. i will keep my pledge to him, and let him know all i can find ere the duke enters taunton; but how may i hold back from him when i see him face to face, and when you, my lord, are serving with him, whom i would fain follow to the world's end or to death?" the viscount smiled that smile of his which i never quite understood, but the pressure of his hand upon my shoulder was kindly and friendly. "it is like enough to be one or the other, wert thou simple enough to throw in thy lot with me," he said in a low voice. "exile or death is like enough to be the fate of those who meddle in this matter." his voice was only for my ear, and i heard his words with a start of dismay and incredulity. "but, good my lord, look on these rolls--look on this list of names! a few hours have brought all these men flocking to the duke's standard. what will not days do, and when all the country side knows that he is here at last?" over the viscount's face there passed another fleeting smile, and his eye rested upon my scroll with a strange expression. "a few hundred ill-armed, undisciplined, untrained rustic hinds, who know no more of warfare than i of the plough! dicon, hast thou read thy history so ill as that thou thinkest england and england's armies can be subdued by such as these?" "but, good my lord, the train-bands will desert to the duke as fast as they are brought into the field against him," i answered eagerly. "all men say so; and those i have spoken to have sons or brothers or lovers in the ranks, and they know what they say. o fear not, my lord; be not down-hearted. the will of the nation is with the duke." "the will of the nation--the hearts of the people!" repeated the viscount slowly. "that may be, dicon, in thy sense, and yet misfortune may not be far off. dost know, lad, that except my unworthy self, not one bearing the name of gentleman has joined the duke to-day? even mr. trenchard, who was to have met him with fifteen hundred men, has fled to france out of the way of peril. we will see what the morrow and the morrow's morrow bring forth; but methinks if his grace be wise he will take to his ships again, and quit the country ere he rouses up the lion to intercept and destroy him!" "o my lord," i cried in distress, "not that--not that!" but he made no direct reply, and we could no longer talk together where we were, for a great cry was raised, "the declaration! the declaration!" and one whom i may call a herald stood forth before the people with a printed paper in his hand, and forthwith avowed that he would read in the ears of the people the declaration drawn up by the noble duke of monmouth, stating wherefore he had come to england, and what was his object in so doing. now all the people were very attentive to hear this, and held a great silence; and i listened with the best of them, striving to retain all in my memory, that i might retail it in taunton town when i returned, and have wherewithal to answer the questions which should be put to me. i cannot set down all here, for it was very long, and would weary both reader and writer; but it was a clear exposition of the wrongs that the people were enduring from an "unlawful and absolute tyranny" foreign to the constitution and rights of the nation. it stated also the perils of popery and papist plots, reminding us that the burning of london in the last king's reign was held to have been the work of papists; that the duke of york, now calling himself king, had unlawfully instituted all manner of popish idolatries, had set up the mass, and was about to persecute with fierce cruelty all those who opposed him or upheld the true religion of the land. next, we were reminded how he had done to death the late king by poison, and mention was made of others also who had been put from his path by like means; and as these things were read, the wrath and ire of the people grew so great and terrible that they broke at last into yells of rage and execrations against the false usurper on the throne, and some voice raised a shout, which was instantly taken up by hundreds and thousands,-- "king monmouth! king monmouth! we will have no king but him!" was this cry raised spontaneously at this point, or had it been begun by some person for the sake of effect? at the time i never thought of such a thing, but later on i have wondered whether some agent of the treacherous ferguson may not have been primed to the part. for the words which followed seemed to fall almost too aptly on our ears, although we none of us felt it at the time. i can repeat this paragraph by heart to-day, having studied it from the declaration itself, which was once in my hands, though soon it was death and dishonour to have a copy of it in one's keeping:-- "and forasmuch as the said james, duke of monmouth, the now head and general of the protestant forces of this kingdom, assembled in pursuance of the ends aforesaid, hath been and still is believed to have a legitimate and legal right to the crowns of england, france, scotland, and ireland, with the dominions thereunto belonging, of which he doubts not in the least to give the world full satisfaction notwithstanding the means used by the late king, his father, upon popish motives, and at the instigation of the said james, duke of york, to weaken and obscure it,--the said james, duke of monmouth, from the generousness of his own nature, and the love he bears to these nations (whose welfare and settlement he infinitely prefers to whatsoever may concern himself), doth not at present insist upon his title, but leaves the determination thereof to the wisdom, justice, and authority of a parliament legally chosen, and acting with freedom; and in the meantime doth profess and declare, by all that is sacred, that he will, in conjunction with the people of england, employ all the abilities bestowed upon him by god and nature for the re-establishment and preservation of the protestant reformed religion in these kingdoms, and for restoring the subjects of the same to a free exercise thereof, in opposition to popery, and the consequences of it, tyranny and slavery. to the obtaining of which ends he doth hereby promise and oblige himself to the people of england to consent unto and promote the passing into laws all the methods aforesaid, that it may never more be in the power of any single person on the throne to deprive the subjects of their rights, or subvert the fundamental laws of the government designed for their preservation." was it wonderful that such words as these raised our enthusiasm and joy to the greatest height? no more packed parliaments subservient to the will of the king, instead of breathing forth the will of the nation! no more pandering to france, and receiving bribes from her for the perverting and corrupting of english ministers! no more mass! no more idolatry! no more absolutism and oppression and tyranny! oh, how the people cheered and flung their hats into the air! was it wonderful that we shouted aloud for "king monmouth! king monmouth!" who had drawn up that declaration? i afterwards heard it was the rev. robert ferguson, the man who was ever in the duke's counsels now, and who was foremost in the cause, and eager to counsel boldness and advance. long afterwards i heard it whispered that he was one of those crawling creatures who, to make their own skins safe, play false to their own friends, by giving secret intelligence to the other side, and therefore are bold to urge rash counsel on others. what the truth of this may be i know not. i can only say that ferguson had the face of a villain, and that i marvelled to see the duke take so much heed to him. but i must not omit to mention my other acquaintances and friends whom i saw in the muster about the duke. young mr. william hewling was there, and masters hucker and herring, both looking very soldier-like in their trappings, and now bearing the commission of captains of the duke's forces. i quickly distinguished, too, the fine face of heywood dare, which i had not seen for some while. he was paymaster of the forces, and seemed much in the confidence of the duke. his son was ensign to captain goodenough, and both gave me a nod and a smile when they saw me. besides the viscount, known to my readers, there was no man of rank in this assembly save lord grey, who was in command of the cavalry, and had solicited the assistance of viscount vere. many harsh things have since been spoken of lord grey, and methinks he lacked skill and courage in action, as will be seen anon; but he was faithful to the cause of the duke, and i like not to hear him railed upon. so soon as i could get away after hearing the declaration read, i hastened to the town-hall, where the recruits were all taken when enrolled to be provided with arms, and put through certain martial exercises in preparation for what might lie before them. the mayor of lyme had fled, we heard, to the duke of albemarle at exeter, with news of what was passing. another gentleman, mr. dassell, who had striven to induce the authorities to fire upon the vessels of the duke before he landed, had started off, it was said, for london. we began to understand that we must make the best of our time before the enemy came upon us; but it was needful that the recruits should be trained at least how to carry their arms, and how to obey the word of command, ere they were brought into the field and set in array against trained soldiers. thursday evening and friday were thus spent, my lord the viscount being one of the most forward and ready to assist in these matters. in the counsels of the duke he seemed to take but little part, but he was ready to do his utmost in showing the raw rustics how to shoulder a pike or aim a carbine. and sometimes he would step aside and speak a few words to me (for i could not keep away from the bowling green, where these things were going on), and he would say with something of sternness in his aspect,-- "at least the honest rogues shall not be shot down like sheep, or butchered as if in the shambles. they shall learn all that can be taught them in a few days." but as more and more men kept pouring in, it became evident that arms were giving out, and that all sorts of shifts would have to be resorted to to put them into the field at all. true, we were cheered by the sight of many small companies of armed militiamen deserting to the duke, and making gay and martial-looking those companies which were forming with all possible speed. we began to speak of the blue regiment, the white regiment, the yellow regiment, according to the prevailing colour of the militia uniform. no enemy appeared against us. no news came of anything but loyal support. it was said by scouts from devonshire that the duke of albemarle was approaching, but that his soldiers were deserting in great numbers--a fact of which we had the best testimony--and that he was more than half afraid to bring the rest against us, lest they should go over in a mass to our duke. all faces brightened at this news. we cheered and huzzahed till the welkin rang. even the viscount's smile was a little more free and full, and he clapped me on the shoulder and said,-- "perchance i have been a false prophet after all, lad. at least thou canst bear back good tidings to taunton and to mistress mary. the issue of the day is yet to come, but at least so far the auguries seem happy. let us live in the present, and leave the future to take care of itself." chapter xii. _back to taunton._ had i been free, had i had none else to think of, had i not been bound in honour to my uncle, nothing would have held me back from openly espousing the cause of the duke, and seeking if i might not at least enrol myself in some capacity amongst his followers. i would have implored the viscount to let me serve him in the capacity of groom or valet, so that i might be with him, and follow the fortunes of war. but i knew that until i had fulfilled the task intrusted to me i was not mine own master; and yet i felt the fire burning so hot within me, as i saw the muster of this goodly array and the martial aspect of the town, that i felt my only safety lay in flight, and that i must tear myself away before i took some step which would be disloyal to mine uncle, and a breach of the trust he had reposed in me. i thought of all this as i lay in a narrow bed in an attic, counting myself lucky to have so much as a straw pallet to rest my weary bones upon--for weary i was with the excitements of the day; and the town was so full of recruits that numbers of these had to camp in the open field or in yards and barns. this was no great hardship whilst the dry warm weather lasted; and all men were so wrought up by the thought of the coming deliverance from popery and tyranny, that nothing was counted a grievance in the good cause. on saturday morning i woke betimes, and after turning over all things in my mind, i resolved that i must not linger longer where i was, but make my way back that day as far as my aunt's house at ilminster--according to promise--and then on to taunton on monday. the duke, i had heard, would not leave lyme before monday, so i should be at home in good time to give notice of his approach. but i felt that i could not leave without one more look at the duke; and, moreover, i bethought me that my lord the viscount might desire to send some letter or message to mistress mary: in fine, i had a hundred good reasons for not hastening away, as it might have been wise to do. i took as good a breakfast as i could get at such a busy time, and putting the saddle on blackbird, sallied forth in the brave sunshine to find the viscount, and to pick up as much information as i could as to the plans and route of the duke. now, although i think that this was not very well resolved on my part, i have never regretted it; for it enabled me to witness a most extraordinary and lamentable occurrence, which did much to damp the joy which was in all our hearts, and to send me on my way a sadder and a wiser man. but yet, i ween, there is something in our nature which makes us eager to see all that is to be seen, whether the sight be of sorrow or terror or joy; and therefore, when i approached the place where the duke's standard had been set up, and saw that some sort of a tumult was going on about and around it, i pressed the more eagerly forward, and soon made my way (thinking less of my manners than of my eagerness and curiosity) into the innermost circle. i have spoken many times of old dare, as he is still called in taunton town, where his memory is kept green, and of his forwardness in the cause of liberty and of the duke; and how that he was always first to be on the spot when there was any fighting and any struggle for freedom. he had spent most of the time since landing in scouring the country for horses for the duke, and had come in late the previous evening with some forty good beasts--the one he had purchased for himself being a very fine animal. all this i did not know at the time, but heard it afterwards. what i did see when i approached was that one of the duke's captains, whose name i had been told was fletcher (i have not spoken of all the captains, fearing to confuse the reader with so many new names), was seated upon a fine horse, ready equipped, as it appeared, for a journey, and that old dare stood beside him with his hand upon the bridle, speaking loud words in a very angry manner. now it had been said to me that the scotchman fletcher was one of the few men about the duke who really understood the art of war, and that he was the most valuable man we had on our side; so that i was astonished to hear high words passing between him and old dare, and to observe that the altercation was fast growing into a serious quarrel. but even then i was little enough prepared for what my eyes witnessed. scarce had i come into full sight and hearing of the disputants, before dare raised his hand in a threatening manner, as though he would have struck his adversary with the cane in his hand; whereupon captain fletcher, roused to a great wrath, drew forth his pistol and shot old dare dead as he stood. i could scarce believe my eyes. a mist seemed to swim before them as i saw the gallant figure totter and sway, and fall helplessly to the ground. instantly all was commotion and alarm. the scottish gentleman turned in his saddle and addressed those about him in loud tones,-- "gentlemen, i call you to witness that the fault is none of mine. no man of honour could suffer himself to be insulted as that fellow was insulting me. i appeal to any gentleman who saw and heard all. could i have done other than i did?" a clamour and tumult at once arose of such magnitude that i was glad to back away out of the forefront of the commotion, and trust to chance to pick up later the gist of the matter. but whilst the crowd surged round the body of old dare on the ground, and round his slayer, yet mounted upon the fine charger over which the dispute had appeared to arise, captain thomas dare came hurrying up at the head of his levies, and all were crying in loud and angry tones,-- "vengeance! vengeance! shall the murderer of dare go free? let him be taken before the duke! let justice be done upon him! vengeance--vengeance--vengeance!" the duke was already upon the scene, a very troubled and anxious look on his face, as was indeed no wonder, seeing that the day had begun thus badly. there was a great and increasing tumult around him, and i could not tear myself away, although i could hear nothing of what was going on. after a long time, i saw captain fletcher being escorted to the shore by a body of officers and troops, followed by a storm of execrations and hootings. he held his head proudly, and looked indifferent and scornful. i knew not whether he were going to instant death, or what had been decreed by the duke; but as i pressed forward to look, and strove to learn the truth from those who stood by, i chanced upon my lord the viscount, who was looking very grave and anxious. "a bad omen, dicon," he said as i rode up to him; "a bad beginning when we turn our arms against one another. nay, i know not where the blame most lay. it was dare's charger, but fletcher had taken it in the service of the duke, the better to perform the duty intrusted to him. it was not matter enough to cause the spilling of blood. and yet it has lost us two of our best men. dare lies weltering in his blood, and fletcher has been taken on board the frigate to save him from the fury of the people. he will be carried to foreign shores by the sailing-master, and we have lost the best officer we have amongst us." i was distressed and grieved at the news, yet full of mine own plans and projects too. i desired (as we do desire such things--i know not why) to carry the news of this disaster to taunton myself, albeit it would be sorrowful tidings there, for old dare was greatly beloved and respected; and my lord encouraged me to leave lyme and return to my uncle with the news. he sent messages to mistress mary, and trusted soon to see her; but all through his discourse i felt that there ran a thread of warning and disquietude. he cautioned me to avoid getting myself too deeply implicated with the cause of the duke, reminding me that those were safest who stood aloof and took no open share in the quarrel. i could well see that he himself had great doubts about the triumphant march to london of which our mouths and hearts were full. he had been driven himself by several goading motives to take up arms in the duke's cause, but he was wishful to warn others from following him too blindly. i rode away from lyme thoughtfully enough; yet all i saw that day tended to raise my spirits. from all parts men were pouring in to join the duke. i met them in companies of two or three, up to a dozen or twenty, all bent upon the same errand, and hungry to gain news from one who had seen the duke and knew what was happening at lyme. then there was another sign which gave me food for pleasant speculation: at many cross-roads the authorities had posted constables to turn back the people who should be faring forth in the direction of lyme. but these worthies were themselves all for the duke; and though they stopped many travellers and asked whither they were bound, and so forth, yet, so soon as they heard, they wished them good journey, and so let them go, and then laughed between themselves as though it were all an excellent joke. i made friends with many of these good fellows as i journeyed, and heard from them how all the country was for the duke; and indeed i could make certain of this myself from the numbers of persons going to join him, many of them being clad in the gay uniform of the militia. my heart grew light as i journeyed, and by the time i had reached ilminster and my aunt's house there, i had forgotten all my doubts and fears. she received me joyfully, and that evening and the next day i was beset by eager men and women all agog to hear my tale, and ready to dance for joy at hearing that the duke would pass through their city shortly, on his way to taunton. already they began to hang their windows with bright stuffs, and the town took quite a festive aspect before i left on monday morning. children were scouring the fields and woods for green boughs to make arches, and posies to crown staffs. it seemed to me that the duke had nothing but a triumphal march before him, unless indeed, as some averred, the duke of albemarle was on the march eastward from exeter to try to intercept him before he reached the heart of the western loyalists. one thing i must not omit to mention regarding my brief stay at my aunt's house. of course she had many questions to ask about the viscount, who had so won upon her a day or two before; and in speaking of him, i could not but say that i feared he was not so hopeful as to the success of the duke as we were, and that i sometimes fancied he himself looked forward to a death upon the scaffold. at that my aunt looked very grave and troubled; yet both she and i saw that were the duke to be defeated, it was likely enough examples would be made of the leaders and men of most mark and young viscount vere might be one chosen to expiate his rebellious act (as it would then be termed) upon the scaffold. but such a thought filled us both with great dismay; for i loved the viscount with a love i cannot hope to express in words. and suddenly my aunt rose and took a lighted taper, and said (it was now dark and late at night, and all her household was abed, we having sat up talking long after all others had gone),-- "dicon, come with me. i will show thee a certain thing; and if the day should come when it can serve thee or thy good lord the young viscount, remember--and i will not fail either him or thee!" as i followed my aunt, in great curiosity as to what this speech could mean, she led me up and up through the house into a great attic in the roof, whither walking was difficult because of crossed timber beams and chests stored with household goods; and suddenly stooping down in one corner, she made a curious clicking sound--i could not see how--and then, to my astonishment and momentary fear, seemed to sink into the floor, for soon only her head was visible to me. "come quietly after me, dicon," she said; and then i saw that she was pushing herself down through a narrow aperture from which a rickety ladder led somewhere below. following her through this trap-door--for such it must be, though cunningly hidden, as i saw afterwards--i by-and-by found my hand taken by hers and myself conducted through such strange narrow places as i had never been in before, till we came out at last into a small but not incommodious chamber, where stood a bed and a chair or two and a small table. and then i divined that i was looking upon one of those secret hidden chambers that were ofttimes to be found in ancient houses, contrived as places of safety for hunted priests or monks or lollards, as the case might be. my aunt put her lantern on the table, and said in a low voice,-- "i will make provision for an inmate, lest the day go against us; and if thou, dicon, or the viscount should come to trouble and be forced to fly, fear not to come hither, and i will shelter you. for myself i have no fears. i am a quiet woman, and take no part in great matters, and all of my towns-folk think well of me. i shall not be disturbed. but i will gladly give shelter to some hunted friend of the duke's if it be needed. not a soul in the town knows aught of this chamber. i trow i could keep any man safe for a month here, and none guess at his presence." i was too much resolved to see nothing but triumph for the duke to believe that we should ever need such shelter as this; yet i was interested in the chamber, and thankful to my good aunt for her kindness in thus promising me help for myself or my lord should it be needed. on monday morning, the fifteenth day of june, i started off with the first of the light to take to taunton the news of the approach of the duke. a messenger had come in overnight to say that the duke would be leaving lyme that morning, and unless delayed by any encounter with the forces of the duke of albemarle, which were said to be advancing towards axminster, might be looked for at ilminster perhaps by the evening, or at any rate on tuesday. so i felt there was no time to be lost in getting to taunton; and as blackbird seemed of the same way of thinking, and went his best and fleetest, it was only high noon before we arrived at the outskirts of the town, to see in a moment that the whole place was in a ferment of excitement. had i once allowed myself to be stopped and questioned, had it once been known that i came from lyme with tidings direct, i should never have been suffered to pass on my way, so clamorous were all the people after news. but as i was sure that this would be so, i kept my mouth shut, and put blackbird to a hand-gallop, never drawing rein till i had him safe within the yard of the three cups itself. at sound of the horse's feet my uncle came hurrying out, and almost fell on my neck in his transport of joy. "ah, dicon lad, how i have watched and longed for thee! come in, come in! i made sure some ill had befallen thee. now tell me all--tell me all! the whole place is full of rumours, and never heard i such contrary tales. our prisons are full of country yokels and farmers, caught in the act of going to lyme to join the forces of the duke. they tell us here that he will never reach taunton; that the duke of albemarle will meet and rout him ere the day be done. tell me, boy, what news dost thou bring? for faith i am half afraid to stir hand or foot, lest i find myself in some horrible trouble." well, i told my story as plain as i could, neither making light of such perils as i had heard of, nor yet failing to report how forward were all the country folks in the cause of the duke. my uncle listened, and his face did not lose its look of perplexity; but after i had told my tale, i was eager to know, on my side, what had happened at taunton during my absence, and my cousin meg coming in and exclaiming at sight of me, i quickly got from her the news, whilst my uncle went out to confer with those of his friends who were still left in the town. meg told me that the public feeling was rising higher and higher for the duke, and that soon after i had left sir edward phillips and colonel lutterell had come in with several companies of soldiers to keep the town quiet. but on saturday the latter had marched away with the most part of the troops to join the duke of albemarle at chard or axminster, and strive to intercept the advance of the duke, and cut to pieces his army, thus quelling the rebellion at a blow. now this had been very grievous news for the people of taunton, who knew not whether their beloved duke might not be forced to fly or ever he had come to them as deliverer and saviour. the magistrates now had charge of the town, and were holding the people in check from any sort of rising, both by their authority and through the doubts entertained of the result of the engagement between the forces of the two dukes. when i told meg how many and great were the forces pouring in to the duke's standard, and how he was surrounded by so gallant a band of officers and gentlemen, and how the militia were deserting to him from every quarter, she took courage and heart again; and others coming in to hear my news, also thought well of it, and ere nightfall a new feeling had spread through the town, whilst whispers were abroad that it would be an easy thing in the absence of the soldiers to make a general rising, surprise the guard, overawe the magistrates, and seize and hold taunton for the duke. but as yet it was only a whisper, and no man dared to speak aloud of such a thing. order still prevailed, although i felt that the city was like to the hot crust over the crater of a volcano, and that at any moment a tongue of flame might spring forth, and the whole aspect be changed to seething heat and violent eruption. as i was sitting at table satisfying my hunger after so much talking, and telling those who stood by of the death of dare--a thing which caused much grief and heart-burning in the minds of his townsmen--my uncle came behind me and said that lord lonsdale had come in. after hearing that i had been to lyme, he had asked to have speech with me; and i rose at once, and found him in the small parlour where guests of the better sort were entertained. now although my lord lonsdale had not played the part of a good father (in my humble opinion at least) to his son, and though he was known as a determined enemy of the duke, yet to me he had always shown himself kind and gracious, and i was grieved to see the look of pain and anxiety upon his handsome face. "dicon snowe," he said, as i appeared, "it has been told me that thou hast ridden scout for taunton, and hast been as far as lyme, and seen the following of the duke of monmouth. tell me truly, boy, hast thou seen aught of my son? he has vanished no man knows where since the first day of the month, and all that i can hear of him is that he was seen riding south, as though he would make for the coast. i have been consumed with fear lest the foolish boy has run himself into deadly peril. tell me, dicon, hast thou seen him? and what was he doing?" what could i say? i am a bad hand at lying even to my foes, and to lie to one who had ever treated me well would have been a disgrace. i could but tell my lord the truth--that his son the viscount, goaded by fears of being forced to wed a lady for whom he had no love, had broken the yoke the best way he could, and so he had joined himself to the duke, his heart not being truly in the cause; and he was now doing all that one man may do to drill the raw recruits, and make soldiers out of men used only to the plough. having so begun, he would, i was convinced, see this matter through to the end; nor would any misfortune that befell the duke draw him from the standard, so long as that standard floated over the plains of england. whilst i spoke in the finest words i could pick, my lord wrung his hands together and lamented openly the folly of the "boy," as he called him, the hot-headed rashness of youth, and the fearful peril into which he had run himself through his reckless impatience. i was sorry for the distracted father, who plainly feared his son's head would pay the penalty; but my sympathies were all the while with the gallant young viscount. nor did i think the cause lost, as the earl plainly did, although prudence caused me to be silent on that point, and to express no opinion. my journey to lyme was not thought to be an incriminating thing. even the mayor, mr. smith, who came to see me and ask questions, rather praised than blamed me for thus faring forth after news. i think i sent that worthy away with a flea in his ear. for i spoke of all the brave sights i had seen, and how joyful the cities were at thought of the approach of the duke; and i think he wished himself anywhere but in charge of taunton town, with the citizens all in a ferment, and the soldiers drawn off elsewhere. but my day's work was not done until i had seen mistress mary and given her her lover's messages; and so soon as i could shake myself free of the crowds that kept coming to hear the news afresh, i stood at the door of miss blake's parlour and sued for admittance. i was welcomed almost with tears when it was known where i had been, and both mrs. musgrave and mistress mary were summoned to hear my tale, which did not grow less through repetition. oh how mistress mary's eyes did kindle and glow when i spoke to her of the viscount, and how he had joined himself to the duke, and was in command of a fine company of horse-soldiers under earl grey! if she had never loved him before, i think she would have loved him then on hearing what he had done, and knowing that for love of herself he had thus thrown all else to the winds and joined the duke's standard. as it was, loving him heart and soul before, her heart could scarce hold all the joy and gladness that my words aroused; and when i whispered in her ears the messages with which i was charged, her beautiful eyes kindled and flashed, and she clasped her hands together as though hardly knowing how to keep back the words that sprang burning hot to her lips. in this house there was no fear as to the result. "god will fight for the right," said miss blake solemnly. "he will succour the oppressed in the time of need, and will not suffer his cause to be trampled in the dust." then she went out of the room for a brief time, and returned bearing a great burden, which mistress mary hastened to help her to undo, and before my dazzled eyes was then displayed the result of those weeks and months of patient toil. twenty-seven banners, or colours, as it was the fashion to call them, were spread out before my admiring gaze. the rich materials had been provided by the secret gifts of many wealthy inhabitants of taunton, but the beautiful needlework had been done by miss blake's pupils under her own eyes; and mistress mary's banner--the most beautiful and the boldest of all, as i have said elsewhere--was her own work every stitch, and she had purchased with her own money all the materials to boot. "when the king-duke comes to his loyal city of taunton," said miss blake with pardonable pride, as she folded the colours once again and laid them by in order, "a right royal welcome shall not be lacking him, shall it, mary my dear?" and mary's eyes kindled and glowed and her cheeks flushed as she lightly passed her hands over the great raised letters j.r. worked upon her banner, and looked up to answer,-- "nay; and if they call taunton the 'queen of the west,' it is but right that the queen should be ready with royal honours for her king." well was it that such words as these were spoken with closed doors! yet methinks these women had such courage and devotion that they would have spoken them aloud for all the world to hear had there been any cause. after i had said good-night to these ladies, i found myself so tired out with the labours and excitements of the day, that i must needs find my way to my bed; and in spite of all the stir and tumult which reached me from the street below, i slept well and soundly, unconscious of what was passing, until daybreak on the following morning, when i was awakened by such a noise and commotion as would have aroused even the seven sleepers. but the account of that memorable day and the rise of taunton i must keep for a fresh chapter. chapter xiii. _the revolt of taunton._ i woke with a start from a deep sleep, to find that already a new day had dawned, and to hear in the streets below the sound of trampling feet and the hum of a multitude of voices. springing out of bed and commencing to dress myself in a great hurry, i heard steps approaching along the passage, and my uncle came quickly in, looking haggard and dishevelled, as indeed he well might, not having been in bed or asleep for two nights. "heaven save us all!" he cried, in a state of genuine alarm. "all the soldiers have been called out. they say the duke of albemarle's forces have been overthrown, and that the duke of monmouth will be here by noon. others say that the duke of monmouth's army is in full flight, and that the soldiers have been called out to help to cut them to pieces and drive them into the sea, so that not one of them shall remain alive by this time to-morrow. god save us all! what is a man to think or do, with such frightful news pouring in, and none knowing the truth of it!" and my uncle groaned aloud. now when i went to bed about ten o'clock the town had been quiet enough, as i have said. the regular soldiers had most of them gone, but several bands of the militia were still there, and these were quite sufficient to overawe the citizens; for they were not at all disposed to desert to the enemy, like those bands in other places of which i have spoken, and the magistrates and the mayor had taken every precaution that the city should be kept tranquil. but with the first light of dawn flying scouts kept hurrying in with news that there had been a battle between the two dukes, and now the whole town was up and astir in the wildest excitement. my uncle could not learn the truth from anybody. the mayor and magistrates tried hard to persuade the people that the duke of albemarle was triumphing, and that he had called upon the militia to finish the good work his soldiers had begun; but the tale told by flying soldiers who made their way into the city from colonel lutterell's regiment was very different. they declared that the train-bands under the duke of albemarle had given way everywhere before the duke of monmouth's troops. the engagement had been more or less in the dark and between hedges. the accounts were so confused that it was hard to tell what was the truth of the matter; but at any rate there were confusion and panic everywhere, and all lovers of order were alarmed, striving hard to quiet the tumultuous citizens and get them to return to their houses instead of running wildly about the streets adding rumour to rumour, till none could tell where the truth might lie. all through that day this state of wild excitement lasted. mr. axe was to be seen in all parts of the town trying to persuade the populace to be orderly and quiet; but when towards evening the news came that the duke--our duke, the duke of monmouth himself--was in full march for taunton, there was no keeping down the tumultuous happiness of the people. they cheered, they laughed, they shouted, they sang. when mr. nicholas blewer appeared in the streets (he had been forward in spreading rumours that the duke was overthrown, and in striving to set the people against him by threats of fearful penalties to be dealt to all traitors), he was so hooted and hustled that he was forced to fly almost for his life; whilst will wiseman led a hooting crowd of half-mad apprentice boys after him, and drove him ignominiously into his lodging. but yet we dared not do more than raise our voices for the duke when no magistrate was by: for there were still bands of militia in the town, despite the fact that continually companies were marching forth by one route or another; and guards were set everywhere, whilst the constables were busy keeping order, though not quite with that air of authority and certainty that they had shown before; and mr. axe and the mayor worked hand in hand to keep order in the city. there was no going to bed for me that night. i felt that a crisis was at hand--as indeed proved to be the case; and i sat with will in a nook in the cornhill, which was always like to be the centre of any disturbance. quiet seemed to have been restored at dark; but that quiet did not last long, for at midnight the roll of the drums began again, and we started to our feet, to become quickly aware that the last of the troops were being marched out of the town. by one or two o'clock in the morning there was not a soldier left, only the guard and the constables; and these, if the truth were known, in a great fright for their own safety. "the soldiers have gone! the soldiers have gone!" cried will, in a fever of excitement; and forthwith he went from house to house, knocking cautiously at doors, which flew open without any delay--plainly showing that the inhabitants were not asleep or abed that night; and i followed his example, till from all quarters men began pouring into the street, and the first dawn of the midsummer morning saw all the cornhill full of people, looking into each other's faces as though asking what should be done next. i know not who spoke the word first. it is always hard to say when the explosion comes whose hand set light to the gunpowder. for some while it had become known that no militia band was in the town, that the soldiers had gone, that none remained now to impose order upon the citizens. the town was practically in their own hands; they could do what they would. then there arose first a low whisper, just a rustle through the moving mass of humanity, but the whisper that became a shout, and the shout that became a yell, and was taken up and passed on, till every throat was vociferating the one word,-- "arms! arms! arms!" now in the tower of st. mary magdalene's church a quantity of arms and ammunition had been stored in case of emergency, and this fact was well known to the crowd. accordingly a movement was made in the direction of the church, although the doors were known to be very strong; and we still had reverence for sacred buildings, whilst contemning the idolatrous usages of popery. but the blood of the citizens was up, and a trifle was not to stay them. will wiseman had, as usual, managed to get into the forefront of the crowd, and as they halted beside the church, wondering how to get at the stores, he cried out boldly,-- "help me up, good people; hoist me on your shoulders. let me but get footing on yonder ledge, and i'll get the window open and throw you out the arms as fast as you can catch them!" a shout was the answer, and in another minute i saw the bold will swarming up to the leads of the church roof, followed by first one and then another active man or lad. to wrench open the windows, to get at the store of arms, to pass them to those below until nothing remained within the tower, was but the work of an hour. by six o'clock every capable citizen of taunton was armed and equipped. those who had horses were already talking of going forth to meet the duke and escort him to the loyal town. women were hanging their windows with the costliest stuff their stores contained; children were going forth, as from ilminster a few days before, to get flowers for garlands and green boughs for arches. we laughed aloud in the joy of our hearts. we shouted for the duke till our throats were sore. every flying scout who came into the city brought some fresh tale of disaster to the king's forces, and of triumph to the duke's. our mayor had not shown his face since dawn. it was supposed that he and the magistrates, and those of the burgesses who could not bring themselves to declare for the duke, were hiding away in fear of the anger of the people, and the possible punishment the new king (as some of us boldly called him) might inflict upon them for their resistance. mr. axe, indeed, came towards us, to try to speak in the name of order and authority; but an excited citizen marched up to him with a musket, and exclaiming, "we will not hear you! the town is ours!" looked so threatening in his aspect that the clergyman quietly retired. and then the cry broke out,-- "loose the prisoners! release mr. vincent! have out the loyal knaves, who will raise a shout for the duke!" no sooner said than done. the prison was broken open by the mob. mr. vincent appeared before our eyes carried high on the shoulders of the wildly-cheering crowd. "a monmouth! a monmouth! down with popery! down with tyranny! a protestant king for england! a monmouth! a monmouth!" there was no resisting that sort of shout; we joined in it almost to a man. even my uncle, who took no open part in these proceedings, remembering perhaps that as capital burgess he was expected to be on the side of law and order, could not refrain from adding a cheer as the procession went by. the crowd, despite the efforts of mr. vincent to free himself from their well-meant attentions, insisted on carrying him in triumph through all the main thoroughfares, shouting themselves hoarse the while; whilst other inferior prisoners were treated to as much ale and sack as they could drink, and were listened to with admiration and delight as they told the tale of their capture. we were assured by this time that all england would declare for the duke, and that he would make taunton his capital in the west, and perhaps even allow himself to be crowned here (so fast did our imaginations and our tongues outrun reason and sense); that his enemies would fly before him, and be scattered as we heard the forces of the duke of albemarle had already been. in our great joy we were like men intoxicated, and every sense was strained to catch the first tread of approaching horsemen, which should betoken the coming of the deliverer. toward four o'clock that same afternoon a mighty shout was raised: "he comes! he comes! the duke! the duke!" and men began rushing wildly towards the road from the south, by which approach to the town from the coast might be expected. will wiseman was at the head of the rushing crowd, and as i tried vainly to keep up with his flying feet, he cried that from the tower of st. mary's a scout had seen the approach of a band of horsemen; and that was quite enough to rouse the shouts which were echoing down the streets, and to send the whole populace flying forth in one direction. although outrun by will and the foremost of the crowd, i yet reached the limit of the town before the horsemen came up. right gallantly did the little cavalcade approach us; yet when they were near enough for us to distinguish faces, we saw that the leader was not the duke himself, but our good friend and townsman john hucker, now appearing in all the bravery of his military dress--a captain in right of the duke's commission, and bearing himself right gallantly, so that we all looked at him in admiration and amaze. he drew rein at sight of such a crowd of friends, and his honest face beamed with pleasure. "good news, my friends, good news!" he cried. "his grace the duke is on his way, and will be here to-morrow with his victorious army, which has put to flight at axminster all the army of the duke of albemarle. we are to march straight to bristol and secure that for the duke, and then we look that all the country shall have risen in his favour. london will be the next place. the king and the court are quaking and shaking. they dare not bring men into the field against us, lest they all desert to the duke's standard. the stars in their courses are fighting for the righteous cause. citizens, be ready with a loyal welcome to-morrow for the noble duke--the future king of england!" oh how we did shout and cheer and laugh and weep! this brave message seemed to infuse new life into us. we on our side pressed round captain hucker, to tell him how we had risen for the duke, and gained the mastery of the town in defiance of guard and mayor and magistrates. we no longer trembled to think of our audacity and the consequences it might lead to. we were full of triumphant gladness; and our townsman promised that the whole story should be told to the duke, that he might know and appreciate the loving loyalty and devotion of the men of taunton. captain hucker, however, had private matters to attend to, when he had given us his first good news, and was able to leave his soldiers in our care and ride to his own home. i think i have said before that master hucker--as we had hitherto called him--was a great serge-maker of the town of taunton. he had his mills in the fair valley of the river tone hard by the town, and he had a fine house within the city, where he lived with his wife and his daughter eliza, who was one of the maidens of miss blake's school, and had been engaged upon that goodly task of working the colours for the duke's army. captain hucker now hastened home; and as it chanced that he passed me on the way, he asked news of mine uncle and the rest of our household, and by me sent him a message to ask if he could supply him with any of those notable wines which he was known to keep in his cellar, and which commanded a price higher than men cared to give save on very especial occasions. "for, dicon," added captain hucker, "thou mayest tell thine uncle that the duke of monmouth has graciously promised to be my guest during the days of his stay in taunton. my poor house is to be honoured as the resting-place of his grace, and thou wilt see how it beseems me to have the wherewithal for his entertainment. and listen again, dicon." the captain leaned from his saddle-bow with a beaming face, though he spoke in a very low and cautious tone. "it behoves us to give a right royal reception to the duke; for although he enters taunton but as duke of monmouth, yet (if i do not greatly err) it will be as king of all england that he will quit it." and while i stood open-mouthed in amazement, not seeing how this thing could come so speedily, captain hucker laughed and nodded and rode on, only calling back to me not to forget about the wine, and to bring him word in a short space what mine uncle could do for him. king of all england! the words rang bravely in my ears, but i could scarce credit them myself. to think that fortune's wheel should bring to pass that i had seen and spoken to a king, and had held his hand in mine even for a moment! i went with my message to my uncle, who forthwith started off to captain hucker's house to see and speak with him face to face. doubtless he wished to learn from him other matters than the amount of wine to be delivered. as for me, i made my way to master simpson's; for i had seen his face amongst the horsemen who had ridden into taunton, and i knew that he would tell us everything that had befallen, and not send me away from sharing the narrative. he was in the garden behind the house and shop--a right pleasant place, where i had spent many a happy hour with will and lizzie. they were with him in the arbour, filling his glass with the mead he loved best, and heaping his plate with such viands as they thought he best relished. he was both thirsty and hungry, as was natural after the day's march, but he was talking all the while nevertheless; and when lizzie saw me she darted forth and dragged me within the pleasant arbour, exclaiming,-- "now come and hear all father's tale. oh, why was i not born a lad, that i might have ridden forth beside him, and joined in the glorious victory!" but her father fondly stroked her bright hair, and said,-- "nay, nay, my maid, but thou hast done thy share at home; and the maidens' work shall never be forgotten in taunton town.--well, dicon, so thou didst find thy way safe home? thou didst miss the fight at axminster, and the rout of the king's general there. ah! it was a goodly sight to see. if all battles end as speedily and as merrily, i care not how many of them we fight." he told us all the details of that skirmishing fight in the lanes--how so many of their adversaries had deserted to them, and how it was supposed that the duke of albemarle had drawn off the rest in fear lest all his army should melt away before his eyes. "why did you not pursue them, father," cried lizzie, "and kill all who would not join you? that is what i should have done. i would not have left alive one soldier or officer who could hurt us afterwards. i would have scattered and slain even as the angel of the lord we read of in the bible. now the duke of albemarle will gather his men and bring them up again perchance. i would not have left him even the remnant of an army." "well done, little general!" cried the father, looking well pleased at lizzie's martial ardour; and then growing a little more grave, he added, "i have heard others say that that is what we should have done. lord vere was very urgent to pursue and scatter the band; but lord grey was against it, and his word prevailed. i am not a soldier born; my duty is to obey my superior. yet if mine opinion had been asked, i would have said, as my maid here says, that it were better to rout and disperse the band than give it time and opportunity to re-form and harass us as we move." "i have heard a whisper that my lord grey is but a sorry soldier," i ventured to remark in a low tone; for it is not for us citizens to condemn our betters. "did not men say that at bridport he fled scarce striking a blow, and left the infantry to be cut to pieces; and no thanks to him that colonel wade got them together and brought them safe off? that is a story one man told me. i prithee what be the truth of it, master simpson?" he laughed a little uneasily. "oh, as for that little skirmish at bridport, we take none account of it, being but a small affair," he answered. "we sent to surprise the militia there, and we gained possession of the town right speedily. but there was some blundering and misunderstanding betwixt the officers; colonel venner was wounded; and the cavalry under my lord grey galloped back to lyme. but no great harm was done. colonel wade brought his men back in good order. they say small skirmishes like that accompany all warfare, but are of small note in the course of the campaign." "i would the duke would give my lord the viscount the command of the horse," i said. "he would not gallop away from the scene of action, and leave the foot-soldiers to their fate." master simpson shook his head at my temerity in thus speaking, yet he could not but say that he thought the viscount would make the better leader; then we fell to talking of the death of dare, and the unfortunate loss of two such good men as himself and fletcher. for it had been found impossible to use fletcher any more in the west country, and the sailing-master of the frigate had weighed anchor and taken him off elsewhere. thus one of the best soldiers was lost to us; and, as we all very well knew, out of those who went in the ranks by the brave names of colonels, captains, and ensigns, scarce more than two or three had been trained in arms or had seen service. but on a day like this we were not disposed to let grave and despondent thoughts gain the upper hand. the victorious duke was on his way to the town, and all taunton was decking itself for the reception on the morrow. master simpson said he must see what he could do to brighten up his house, and went to take counsel with his sister; whilst will and lizzie and i went forth together and paraded the streets, watching the erection of triumphal arches, the decking of windows and balconies, and listening to the joyful cries and shouts of the people, as they ever and anon let their spirits get the upper hand, and broke forth into song and cheering. lizzie was anxious to see her schoolmistress and take her all the news, so i escorted her thither, and we passed inside together, to find the house all in commotion. the town girls had not gathered for schooling upon such a day of excitement. no study could be thought of at a time like this, yet never had there been a busier day in miss blake's establishment. if every window and balcony in the town was to be decorated, how much was it incumbent upon her to get done before the glorious morrow! all the resident pupils and the two mistresses were working might and main, and at once lizzie and i were pressed into the service; and as our fingers moved our tongues wagged, and such a clatter as we made amongst us you would scarce believe. mistress mary was there, of course--the most skilful of all, and with her whole heart in the work. yet she found time to come up to me and ask in a whisper,-- "has _he_ come in to-day?" "no," i answered; "he comes with the duke to-morrow. you will see him then, mistress mary." and her cheek kindled and glowed; yet there was a sorrowful look in her eyes also, and i noted it the more because upon such a day as this i should have thought nobody could have had aught but thoughts of joy and triumph. as we were decorating a window together later on, and nobody else chanced to be by, i ventured to ask respectfully,-- "is aught amiss, fair mistress?" she looked at me, and suddenly the tears sprang to her eyes. she clasped her hands together, letting her wreath fall to the ground. "o dicon," she exclaimed, in a passionate way quite foreign to her usual calm, "how will this end--how will it end? ah, if i only knew that ill and hurt would not come from it!" "why, mistress mary," i said in surprise, "you have been ever most forward to prophesy victory, even when things looked dark; and now, when all the world is full of confidence and hope, are you to fear and doubt?" "dicon," she said in a low tone, "i had a dream last night--a dream of terror and dread. and yesterday my guardian came to me and said terrible words." "what did he say?" i ventured to ask. "he said that i had tempted his son to his own undoing; that i had put a halter round his neck, and had led him to his ruin. he said that none but women and fools could believe that aught could come of this rebellion--that was his word--save a rapid downfall, to be followed, if the king is of the temper he has shown himself ever, by a fearful and exemplary vengeance. he said things which made me shake for very fear, and he spoke with a certainty that rang like a knell in mine ears. and then i had such a frightful dream of dreadful deaths upon the scaffold, the hideous form of the executioner, the crowds of faces, the horror and the agony. and above all, i seemed to see _his_ face looking reproach upon me, and his voice saying in my heart, if not in my ears, 'it was for thy sake i did it, mary. i am dying now by thy act.' oh, it was terrible, terrible, terrible! i have scarce been able to enjoy this day for the thought of it." i confess i did not like that dream. i had known before of such that had proved much too terribly true. also it reminded me unpleasantly of mother whale's prediction about much blood and little glory, which had always borne a sinister sound in my ears ever since i had heard it. but then had she not said that the king should die in exile? and if that should indeed be true, why need we fear the rest? however, to mistress mary i strove to make light of the dream, and spoke to her of the prognostications we were hearing on all sides of the triumphal march lying before the duke; so i think i left her comforted. nor could any person loving the duke fail to be glad and happy that night, for we all knew him to be close at hand, and looked to see him bravely welcomed on the morrow by all taunton town. chapter xiv. a glorious day. i had slept soundly and well upon the night preceding that glorious and memorable eighteenth of june, despite all the excitements of the day; for the previous night i had not troubled my bed, and nature will claim her dues, be the moment never so full of stress and emotion. but though i slept soundly and well, i awoke betimes; and i was not astir before others, for i heard the sound of songs and glad voices in the streets before i left my room. below in mine uncle's inn all was life and bustle, for the country folks were pouring in from far and near to witness the arrival of the duke; and every hostelry was taxed to the limit of its resources to find even sitting room for the merry company, to say nothing of food for man and beast. i had never seen our stables so crowded with beasts, and we had to tether them in the yard beside heaps of fragrant grass and hay. my uncle's face was wreathed in smiles, and he welcomed every comer with his wonted heartiness. for the time being he was carried away by the stream of popular enthusiasm; and although still carefully refraining from taking any overt part in the day's proceedings, was ready to give welcome to all comers, and was perhaps glad to be tied by the exigencies of business within the doors of his house, so that did he wish it never so much, he could not make shift to leave it, be it the king himself who was coming to the town that day. we knew that the duke had slept at ilminster the past night, and therefore that he could not be here very early, since a march of sixteen miles is not made without considerable loss of time with an army of some thousands of men. but then there was enough to do, in order to receive that army with hospitality, to keep us all busy, and i would i could describe the appearance presented by paul's field and the meadows adjoining, where we guessed the soldiers would encamp; for every citizen, however humble, had some small contribution to make towards the accommodation of the good duke's army and the hospitable welcome of his followers, and the place looked like a great fair with its tents and roughly-knocked-up sheds, and its supplies of provision for man and beast hastily contributed by the eager towns-folk. as for the number of horses in the place that day, i never saw the like. everybody who had a horse, or could by any means obtain one, had it ready to ride forth later on to meet the duke. i could have sold blackbird a dozen times over for thrice his value would he but have suffered any other rider to mount him. as it was, several yeomen and gentlemen would not be satisfied without making trial of their prowess; but although one or two contrived by dint of excellent horsemanship to maintain a seat upon his back for a while, yet none after that trial desired to conclude any bargain, and blackbird remained in mine own keeping, as i was sure from the first he would do. towards noon the horsemen began to gather and ride out along the ilminster road, and i perforce went with them, though i could ill be spared from the inn; but mine uncle saw that my heart was no longer in my task, and good-naturedly bid me go forth to see the show. almost needless to say that there in the forefront of the riders--albeit with none but his own feet to carry him--was will wiseman; and so soon as he saw me he came to my side, and i gave him hold of my stirrup leather, as we had many times done before when i rode forth, and he ran beside me gallantly, as untired as the horse. "the witch is not right, dicon," he cried more than once; "for come what may in the future, is not this glory enow to satisfy the heart of man? didst ever see town so bedecked as taunton is this day? and there will be yet more to follow on the morrow!" for will and i knew what gay show had been devised for the morrow, and how it would be one that would rouse the enthusiasm of the town to the highest pitch. and will (who had a wonderful gift for hearing news before anybody else) whispered to me that there would be other brave shows ere the duke left the queen city of the west; but when i asked him what he meant, he only laid his finger on his lips and whispered,-- "hist, dicon! this be not the time or place to speak of such things. but dost thou think that england will be content to follow a duke, even though he be the son of a king? we want a king and not a duke to reign over us. how can men flock to the standard of a duke, when there is a king upon the throne? we must have a king, too, else all will be confusion and mischance." this word from will confirmed what i had heard yesterday about the duke's leaving the town as king. i confess i was perplexed how such a thing could be, the more so as in the declaration which i had heard read he had spoken of not insisting upon his title as yet, and only doing so at the request of parliament. but then i had read enough history to be very well aware that no prince could always adhere to the resolves laid down at the first. the tide of popular sentiment often carries them beyond the bound originally set; and it might be very true, as will whispered, that the title of duke would not be sufficient to content the ardent followers who had flocked to the banner of one whom they hoped to see reigning as england's king. all this was very exciting, and stirred my pulses not a little. at last my longings were gratified. i was living in times that were truly historic. i was going forth to meet the champion and deliverer of the people. what could heart of man wish more? i should see him and behold his triumphal entry into the city. i should have lived in days which would go down to posterity as the days of a great epoch in our country's story. presently the cries and shouts of those in advance of us told us that the duke and his army had been sighted. the cloud of dust which the horse-hoofs of our advance-guard raised kept us for a time from a view of what they saw; but presently the cloud subsided. all of us drew away right and left upon the turf, leaving the road track clear for the coming vanguard; and in another minute cheers and shouts began to rend the air, and we all tossed up our caps, crying lustily, "god save the duke! god save the duke! god be with your grace! a monmouth! a monmouth!" and one voice was boldly raised to cry, "god save the rightful king!" the duke came forward, riding a fine horse with all the grace and manly skill which helped to make him a king amongst men. his face was bright with smiles, he held his head-piece in his hand, and bowed right and left as he passed through the ranks of shouting, cheering citizens and country folk, all come out to do him honour. beside him rode a body-guard of some forty or fifty gentlemen, well mounted and equipped; and amongst these i soon singled out my lord the viscount, whose gallant bearing and golden locks made him conspicuous even amongst so many gay riders. he saw me too, and gave me a smile and a nod. but he kept his place near to the duke, and we who had come out to welcome him escorted that gallant band at a short distance, the main body of the horse following about a quarter of a mile behind, and the infantry, waggons, and guns (of which there were very few) bringing up the rear half a mile away, and proceeding much more leisurely. will had set off running towards the city like a hare so soon as he had really set eyes upon the duke and had heard from my lips that it was truly he. therefore on our approach to the city we were surrounded by such a crowd as i surely think no man amongst us had ever seen before. hundreds of children lined the roadway into the town, flinging posies and garlands before the feet of the duke's horse. a band of minstrels welcomed him with strains of martial music; and whilst women wept aloud and called aloud upon him as their saviour and deliverer, men shouted his name and made the welkin ring with their cries, till one would have thought the whole place had gone mad with joy. so thronged were the streets that it was difficult for the duke to make his way along them, and the many pauses which had to be made rendered it easy for the people to press round him, kiss his hands and shower blessings of every sort upon him. this gave him opportunity to reply to them by smiles and gentle words, such as he was very ready with. and he won all hearts by his gracious demeanour, by the beauty of his person, and by the kingly grace of his deportment. the procession wound slowly up the high street towards the cornhill, and when the open space was reached, the duke's company moved towards the right in the direction of fore street, thus approaching somewhat nearly to the three cups inn, and also to that house where miss blake held her school. i think it was by arrangement that the duke had been thus slowly urged along fore street; for as he approached the corner a sudden silence fell upon the crowd, whilst all eyes were turned upon a certain gaily-draped balcony; and immediately there appeared upon it a crowd of white-robed maidens, and to the accompaniment of the band of minstrels their voices were raised in a sweet strain. they sang several stanzas of some poem, which i afterwards heard had been culled from the writings of dryden, and which, it was whispered to me, had been obtained with some difficulty and set to music by the organist of st. mary's church. only one verse remains in my memory, and very appropriate did those words sound as they were chanted forth by the white-robed throng:-- "thee, saviour, thee, the nation's vows confess, and never satisfied with seeing, bless; swift unbespoken pomps thy steps proclaim, and stammering babes are taught to lisp thy name." the duke listened to the song with bared head, and at its close made a graceful reverence to the young maidens, who retreated from the public gaze so soon as their part had been performed. i saw the viscount's eyes fixed upon the balcony; and i had well been able to distinguish mistress mary's rich voice leading the carol, and giving strength and power to the strain. that she had seen her lover i did not doubt. his face showed that the magic language of love had been exchanged between them as they stood so near to one another. but there were graver matters on hand than mere songs of praise and shouts of welcome and devotion. a little stir in the crowd betokened the setting up of the standard in the centre of the cornhill; and then a herald stood forward, and demanded that the city magistrates should instantly be summoned to attend the reading of the declaration which would forthwith be made. eager partisans ran hither and thither to summon these dignitaries, and no doubt they looked upon discretion as the better part of valour, for a certain number of them shortly appeared. some said that mr. bernard smith, our mayor, was also present; but of that i cannot be sure, since i did not see him myself, and i can never be certain that what report spoke was the truth. i have spoken before of that declaration, and need not more particularly refer to it here, save to remind you how gratefully would those fair promises of toleration and justice fall upon the ears of our citizens who had seen the demolition of their chapel and meeting-places, and had for years been constrained either to go to church against their desire or conviction, or to meet privily to hear the word preached to them after their own fashion, whilst they were subject to many and grievous penalties for doing even this. every clause of the declaration, then, was received with shouts and cries of joy. the long indictment against the present king fell like music on the ears of those who had regarded him from the first with fear and hatred. enthusiasm was stirred to its highest pitch by the terms of this long document; and the people crowded so close about the herald, that i was glad to get out of the press, lest i should be trodden underfoot and suffocated. after the declaration had been read aloud in the ears of the people, a copy of it was affixed in one or two places about the town, where all who could might read it for themselves; and then a proclamation was read which gave great joy to all the people, showing as it did the gentle temper of the duke, and his anxiety that justice and mercy should always be done in his name. this proclamation set forth that whereas, to the great reproach and scandal of the good cause, and contrary to the commands and wishes of the duke, certain lewd and dissolute persons had, under cover of a pretence of zeal, been guilty of acts of pillage and robbery, and in especial had taken horses from the good and peaceable country folk without payment, it is strictly charged that no such acts be committed any more; and that if any person in the future be robbed of aught he possesses, he is invited straightway to repair to the camp, and to lay complaint before the duke, when justice shall at once be done. this proclamation gave great satisfaction to all those who could remember, or who had heard stories of the cruel depredations inflicted formerly by the soldiery in times of war, when redress was practically impossible. i will not go so far as to say that this proclamation had the desired effect of putting a stop to all such depredations; but at least it was evidence of the temper and the wishes of the duke, and was received with loud acclamations of joy and affection by the people. by this time the day had fast waned; and although the sun was still high in the sky, being nearly at the summer solstice, yet the duke and his party were fatigued by their long march in the heat, and by the fervour of their reception. so when captain hucker came forward to say that he had all in readiness at his house for the entertainment of the duke and some of his officers, whilst others were to be received by substantial citizens with whom they would find abundant good cheer, the party was glad enough to betake itself to rest and refreshment; and the good folks from the outlying districts, who had ridden in to see and welcome the duke, now hastened away to get their horses, and to leave the crowded town. i heard captain hucker invite the viscount to the hospitality of his house; but his invitation was courteously declined, lord vere saying quietly that he had business of his own to see to. i guessed that that business had somewhat to do with mistress mary, nor was i surprised when presently he came and linked his arm in mine (in that friendly fashion he was not ashamed to show even in the eyes of the citizens who knew his rank and my humble birth) and said,-- "good dicon, thinkest thou thine uncle can find me a bed to-night? i have not slept in one since leaving lyme, indeed since reaching lyme. i would sooner lie in his house than in any other to-night, for i must have speech with mistress mary to-day if such a thing be possible; and i trow that i shall gain it best through thy good offices." i knew my uncle would be glad enough to have lord vere as his guest. lord lonsdale's son was greatly beloved in taunton, and to harbour him would not be like to do any man hurt, since lord lonsdale was known for a very loyal servant of king james, and most like would use such influence on behalf of his son (supposing that evil days fell upon this expedition, which heaven forfend) that he would escape the penalty of his rashness. my uncle did not desire to hold too sullenly aloof from all the hospitalities offered to the duke's followers, neither did he wish too deeply to embroil himself with the rising. so that he was very well pleased when i brought back my lord the viscount, and at once allotted to him the best bed-chamber, and set before him the best viands left in the house after all the feeding and feasting of the day. i waited on my lord, and when he had appeased the worst of his hunger, he made me sit down and make a meal myself of the fragments; which i was nothing loath to do, having scarce broken my fast since morning, for the excitement and bustle of the day. as i ate he sat thoughtfully toying with some fruit, and at the last asked suddenly,-- "dicon, is it true that there be many colours worked by the maidens yonder that will be presented to-morrow to the duke?" "i trow so, good my lord," i answered, with secret triumph in my heart. "i have heard and seen somewhat of it." "and will mistress mary mead be amongst those who will present them?" "truly i believe it, my lord. her banner is the best and most beautiful of all, and every stitch her own. is it like that upon such a day she would be more backward than others?" my lord's face was very grave and anxious. "dicon, i would have speech with her this night. canst thou obtain it for me? there may be more peril than she wots of in this thing. i would save her from it if it might be. can i make shift to see her?" "why, yes, my lord; i see no great difficulty about it," i answered. "i am always welcome when i go in with news of the day's doing; and after such a day as this i shall be tenfold more welcome. and if you will condescend to accompany me to the house--any gallant captain of the duke's forces will be welcomed with honour by miss blake. i doubt not that by this she is in mistress mary's secret; and whilst i tell all my news to her, you can get speech with mistress mary in another part of the room. i see no trouble about it on such a day as this. all taunton is on the tip-toe of expectation. none bearing news will be denied entrance at such a time." "good," answered my lord, rising to his feet: "i will but arrange my dress and wash away these stains of dust, and present myself to miss blake, and gain speech of mistress mary if it may be." how gallant and beautiful my lord the viscount looked when he came down from his sleeping-chamber a few minutes later my poor pen cannot well say. i felt that such a lover might well win the heart of any maid; and i pretty well knew by this time that miss blake was in the secret of mistress mary's amours, and that she would do everything in her power to bring about the happy union of two such loyal and loving hearts. any man serving in the army of the duke would win her regard and respect; and the personal charm of the viscount could not fail to make itself felt, whilst the romantic story of his love for mistress mary, and the sacrifice into which it had led him, could not but touch the heart of any woman, be she never so hard to please. wherefore i was very sure that viscount vere would receive a warm welcome in the parlour of the ladies. nor was i deceived in this. the serving-maid, with a flushed and smiling face, admitted us at once into the familiar room, bright with the last flush of day; and there was mistress mary still in her white robes, and the two mistresses flushed and exultant, eager after news and ready with the warmest welcome for me, and with words of deep respect and most sincere good-will for my lord, whose appearance in my wake put them quite into a flutter, and caused mistress mary's cheeks to glow as though the sunset sky had been reflected in them. she remained in the deep window seat, and for a while my lord spoke with the other ladies; but presently he made his way across to where his mistress sat, and we at the other end spoke of many things. i told all i had seen of the meeting of the duke outside the city, and of his gallant entrance therein. what the lovers spoke of at first i know not. i heard the low tone of mistress mary's voice, but not the words, and i guessed that she might be speaking of those fears and anxieties which she had named to me. however, of this i cannot speak certainly. what i can answer for is that presently the viscount raised his voice so that we all could hear, and said, rather to miss blake than to any other,-- "ladies, i hear that you are to take a bold step to-morrow. have you bethought you what the consequences may be should the issue of this revolt be other than the well-wishers of the duke desire?" "my lord," answered miss blake, with an air of unconscious dignity, "we frail human creatures have naught to do with results; those are in the hands of him who cannot do amiss. our part is to do our duty, and show forth our love and service in the cause of right and truth and virtue. this we are resolved to do, and no fear of results will serve to fright us from our appointed task. you men can go forth and fight in the righteous cause. there is little that we poor women can do, yet that little shall not be lacking. you would not, gallant sir, strive to deter us from taking our small share in this noble struggle?" one of the viscount's strange smiles hovered over his beautiful face. "madam," he said, with a bow, "after such words as those, mine sound but poor and mean and faint-hearted. but you know that i love mistress mary, and that i would lay down my life to keep her from harm. i know more of the forces at the king's disposal than the country folks here seem to do, and my fears are therefore greater, and my hopes less strong, than those which fill the breasts of the citizens of taunton. if ill betide this rising, there will be evil days to follow; and those who are most known to have taken a part in it will be subject to most danger. i have no right to counsel you, madam; but i have that claim upon mary which bids me warn her what she is doing. if she carries forth her banner to-morrow, it may be that some hurt she little thinks of now will fall upon her." "and if it does, what then?" asked mistress mary, raising her head, and looking so beautiful in her generous enthusiasm that i could only hold my breath and gaze at her speechlessly. "dost think, my lord, that it is only men who are willing to suffer and to die in a noble cause? nay, in so thinking thou dost greatly err, thou dost greatly wrong us women. i would gladly lay down my life for the cause to which i am pledged, the cause of truth and liberty and righteousness." she turned her eyes full upon him as she spoke, and then suddenly the light in them, which had been proud and even tinged with a noble scorn, suddenly softened, and she laid her hand gently upon his arm, speaking her next words in a different key, and with a tenderness that i can never hope to make you hear. "reginald," she said softly, and in a moment his hand had sought and covered hers, and i think they both forgot just then that there were any beside to hear what they said, "thinkest thou that i would draw back from any cause to which thou hadst pledged thyself? thinkest thou that i fear any peril that thou too dost share? hast thou not taken up arms in the same good cause? and if peril threaten me, it will threaten thee also. shall i fear to share anything with thee? thou dost know me wondrous little an thou thinkest that. together we will live, or together we will die. what matters it so that we be always together?" as she spoke these last words, he raised the hand he held and pressed it to his lips. she did not strive to withdraw it; and we averted our eyes, that we might not seem to see too much of what is infinitely sacred--that mystery of human love which is the mainspring of all the great actions done in the world. there were tears in miss blake's eyes, and mrs. musgrave was wiping hers furtively. in a low whisper one of them said to the other,-- "was ever love so true and beautiful? my lord lonsdale may rage as he likes an it reaches his ears, it would be sin and shame to strive to part two such hearts. heaven has made them for one another. what god has joined together, let not man strive to put asunder." just at this moment there was a little stir outside the door. it was opened rather suddenly and hastily, and the serving-maid put in her head and exclaimed in half-angry, half-frightened tones,-- "it is no fault of mine, mistress; he will come in." and the next minute we saw before us in the gathering twilight the lank figure and evil face of mr. nicholas blewer. now miss blake had ever hated and distrusted this man, and of late days, gaining courage from the approach of the duke, she had dared to deny him entrance into her house. but i suppose he had to-day found the maid gossiping in the streets, as maids will do in times of excitement, and so had forced his way in, and now stood looking round upon us all with an evil smile upon his cruel face. in our part of the room there was not much light; but mistress mary and her gallant lover sat together on the window seat where the western light shone in upon them, and her white dress and his festal suit of white and blue caught the last of the evening glow, and seemed to stand out against the window like a picture. i saw the sudden change which came over mr. blewer's face as he saw who was with mistress mary; and there was something in the tones of his voice that made me long to spring at his throat and throttle him then and there, so full was it of covert malice and bitter hostility. "i trust i do not intrude. i could not deny myself the pleasure of seeing you all so happy after this strange day's masquerade. doubtless it has seemed to you like the dawn of a new day. but, dear ladies, it were well to remember that all that glitters is not gold. be not too sure that your millennium has already come. there be strange chances and changes in the fortunes of war.--my sweet young mistress, i must caution you not to be over-rash in the zeal with which you welcome this new prince absalom." he looked straight at mistress mary as he spoke these words, and approached as if he would take her hand; but she suddenly rose and slipped it within my lord's arm, and, looking full at mr. blewer with a scorn both in face and voice which i think could not well be surpassed, said simply,-- "with my affairs, sir, you have no concern. i never wish to see your face again, nor to hear the sound of your voice. you have been forbidden this house, and you are here only by a trick. go! i have nothing to say to you. i distrust and i despise you. there! you have my last word." "go, sir!" said miss blake, taking up the gauntlet so boldly thrown down; "you have ever been a false friend and a spy in this house. go! and never darken our door again." he turned fiercely upon her, his face hideous in its cruel passion. "you threaten me, madam! have a care, else in the days to come you may bitterly repent the slights you have put upon me. my turn will come all too soon for you; see if it does not!--and as for you, proud minx--" wheeling back towards mistress mary with flaming eyes. but that was the last word he spoke in that room. my lord the viscount sprang forward, and stood before him with such a noble anger and scorn in his face that the coward shrank back in affright, as though he feared a blow. but the viscount's hand was never raised against him. "sir," he said, "you are protected by your sacred calling, little as you are worthy of it, and by the presence of ladies. but utter one more word of threatening, and you will be flung into the streets like the craven cur you are. you with impunity thought to insult and intimidate defenceless women. you have made a mistake, and out of this house you go at the bidding of its mistress without more ado. there is the door, sir. if you do not desire to go forth faster than you came in, go! i shall not speak twice." mr. blewer's eyes seemed to flash baleful fire, but he did not pause or hesitate; he was gone before we had time to draw three breaths. the little maid was heard to slam and bolt the door behind him, but came to say that it was awful to hear him swearing on the other side. "he will do us grievous hurt if he ever can," said mrs. musgrave, looking pale. "he would have done that in any case," answered miss blake calmly; "he was always a wolf in sheep's clothing.--my lord vere, i give you great thanks for your action in this matter. it is only a coward who dares to threaten women. you showed him in all his cowardice as it was meet it should be shown him. methinks he will come here no more, and that mary will be safe from his persecution. that is a good step gained." "but he will be an implacable foe to you, reginald," breathed mistress mary, softly and timorously, so quickly do the moods of women change. "oh, i trust he will never have power to harm you!" "he will harm us all if he can," answered my lord quietly; "but we will not begin to fear him yet. perchance he may find his own fate one of these days. it may not be given to him to hurt us. and now, ladies, i must wish you adieu. on the morrow, doubtless, we shall meet. we are embarked together upon a somewhat perilous voyage. god grant that we come at last to a fair haven!" he took mary in his arms and kissed her before us all, as though he felt it might be the last time. she clung to him half sobbing, half laughing, from excess of joy and sorrow mingled. the next minute we were once more in the streets, and i found myself saying in my heart, "i would that evil man had not come to mar the harmony of our evening. i would that so untoward a thing had not happened." chapter xv. _the maids of taunton._ i dreamed somewhat uneasy dreams all that night, and woke with a sense of oppression on my spirit; but the bright sunshine streaming in at the windows, the air of bustle and gaiety in the streets, the stir and activity of the house, and above all the feeling that my lord the viscount was at hand to be waited on and considered, all served to put me into a happier frame of mind. as soon as i had performed some of my rougher duties, and seen to blackbird and the other horses--for the men were as busy as ever with persons arriving to see the events of the day--i got myself into my holiday doublet as on yesterday, and went down to see if i could help the viscount at his toilet. but he was already up and out of his room, and i found him sitting in the parlour at breakfast, and my uncle standing beside him, talking earnestly with him. as i entered i heard these words spoken,-- "thou hadst best go on as thou hast done hitherto, good master inn-keeper. none can say that thou art slack in serving those who come from the duke; but there is no need to put thyself forward in this matter. the less a man meddles in these affairs the better it often is for him. do thy business with diligence, but make no profession, and do nothing to draw attention upon thyself. so thou mayest be safe in troubled days. the keeper of an inn is better placed than many; for none can well lay to his charge the sin of harbouring and entertaining rebels. a man must abide by his calling; and it were unreasonable to expect him to inquire into the business and opinions of all who come and go. guard a discreet silence on these vexed questions, and walk warily as thou hast done hitherto, and thou mayest safely weather the coming storm. and keep an eye upon that nephew of thine, that he adventure himself not too nearly amongst the rebels. he has more courage than discretion, that lad; and it is sometimes safer to cultivate prudence rather than bravery." but as i came in at that moment and both saw me, the viscount stopped speaking, and smiled; whilst my uncle gave me a knowing look and went out, leaving me to finish waiting on the guest. my lord, however, said nothing to me of what he and my uncle had been discussing, but finished his meal in some haste, saying that he must go to captain hucker's house to see the duke, and learn what the day's duties were to be. i could gather from hints dropped by my lord that he thought the duke was wrong in not pushing more resolutely forward whilst there was no enemy in his path. in lingering first at one place and then at another he was giving the enemy a better chance of mustering against him before he had made himself master of one important stronghold. we men of taunton thought much of our town; but, as the viscount pointed out to me, it was useless for a garrison, since its walls and fortifications had been demolished. bristol now would be a valuable place, and it was said that it would open its gates at once to the duke; but unless he moved thither somewhat quicker, it was like enough that lord feversham might bring up his troops and intercept the duke's on the way. "if fletcher had been with us, we should not be lingering thus," quoth my lord, as he girded on his sword and put on a plumed hat to-day instead of any head-piece; "but my lord grey is all for tarrying and prudence, and methinks that this prudence will end in disaster erelong." so the viscount went off down the street on foot, followed by the admiring glances and the reverences of all the people. he replied to these very courteously; but i was grieved that all the brave show at taunton and the welcome received did not make him more hopeful of the result of the great rising. however, there was but little time to think of these things, for already a mighty muster of towns-folk was assembling about the open space at our corner, and i well knew for what purpose they had thus assembled, and was in no mind not to be in the foremost rank of the spectators. will wiseman came pushing towards me at the last moment, wriggling himself through the crowd like an eel, till he stood flushed and panting by my side. "i would have come earlier," he said, "only i was called upon by so many to read them the declarations of the duke, which can be seen and read by all who know how. i have been at it this past hour. they be never satisfied, these good folks. as fast as one lot goes, another comes up to hear. but i say, dicon, what has happened to our good friend and preacher mr. blewer? he is as yellow as a guinea this morning, as though all the gall in his nature had got into his face. i never saw a more spiteful and evil countenance in all my life. he came down the street, the people hooting him, albeit without offering him any indignity; and i asked him as he passed if it would please him to hear the duke's declaration, since i had not seen him at the reading in the cornhill yesterday. he gave me such a look as would have turned milk sour in the pans, and he told me i should rue the day that i had chosen to insult him. he is an evil hound, and methinks he must be possessed of a devil. when the duke comes into his own, i hope he will rid the country of such pestilent knaves. i would hang every one such at the cross-roads in chains, to be a warning and example to their fellows." i whispered to will the story of last night; to which he listened with infinite relish, and slapped his thigh in ecstasy to think how mr. blewer had been ejected from miss blake's house by the viscount. "marry, but he will do him an ill turn if he can," he remarked, more gravely, at the end. "dicon, i almost wish i might make an end of that vile man. i verily believe he will do one of us a hurt else." but i shook my head. i could not counsel will to commit a crime, even to save ourselves from possible peril. perhaps he would meet the due reward of his evil ways without any act of ours. and now the clocks were striking ten, and all other sounds were merged in the silence of expectancy, as upon the last stroke the door of miss blake's house opened slowly, and straightway there marched forth first the two schoolmistresses, clad in such a fashion as was appropriate to their years and calling; and after them more than a score of young maidens, all in white, headed by beauteous mistress mary; and each of these damsels bore in her hand one of the colours wrought by their united skill. now at sight of this goodly procession the people broke into loud cheering, for the thing was one in which almost all had had a share; and though the dainty needlework was the handiwork of the maidens, yet the wherewithal had been found by the towns-folk, and the colours were borne by their own daughters and sisters and kinswomen: so that it was no wonder the whole place had turned out to see, nor that the appearance of the white-robed procession should be hailed with such a shout of welcome. miss blake came first, and she carried no colour, but a small and curiously-bound bible, and a naked sword with a finely-tempered blade and a hilt set with gems. mrs. musgrave waited till all the damsels had filed out, and took up her place in the rear. she carried nothing; and the seven-and-twenty colours were borne by seven-and-twenty young maidens, amongst whom were lizzie simpson, who looked blooming and intensely happy, eliza hucker, and the herring sisters, and many others whose names i knew, albeit i will not set them down here, as they have no part in my story. mistress mary was by many years older than these other damsels, most of whom were not aged more than ten or twelve years. she walked alone at the head of the procession, just behind miss blake, whilst the others followed in pairs behind her. mistress mary's dress was of some soft silken texture, very daintily and dexterously garnished with fair embroidery in silver. she wore a flowing veil over her beautiful hair, and upon her feet were dainty shoes of white embossed leather with silver buckles. amongst many fair and graceful maidens she was fairest of all in her wondrous grace and dignity, and the golden banner that she held took all eyes; for not only were its size and workmanship more imposing than the rest, but the device of the crown and the letters j.r. drew forth first the wonder and then the rapturous cheers of the spectators, as will wiseman shouted out, "j.r.--jacobus rex. long live our new king james!" and although the people were half afraid to take up the cry themselves, yet they shouted might and main as the white-robed throng moved onwards, and following close in their wake, escorted them up to the door of captain hucker's house, where it was well seen that their coming was expected. gay as were all the houses in taunton that day, it seemed as though the climax of welcome had been reached here. flags floated from all the windows. every window-frame was wreathed with garlands or greenery. the balconies were hung with crimson cloth. there was a great triumphal arch over the door, and to-day there had been laid down in the street before the porch one of those great carpets which were beginning now to be brought by merchants from the east, and which were said to cost fabulous sums of money, and scarce to be seen save in the houses of the nobility. this carpet, however, made a little island as it were, upon which the crowd did not dare to set foot, but stood respectfully round to witness the proceedings in which such keen interest was taken. upon the approach of the ladies, the duke appeared upon the top of the flight of steps leading up to the door, and with him were assembled a number of his officers and gentlemen, who stood behind him, but in view of the spectators. miss blake stepped forward with her book and her sword, and her maidens arranged themselves with simple and unconscious grace in a semicircle round her. i would that my memory would serve me as well in recording the speech of the lady as it does in presenting before my mind's eye the spectacle of so much youth and beauty and virtue all gathered together to do honour to the champion of a noble cause. but although i know that the speech lacked neither in grace of diction nor in skill of delivery, all that i can remember of it was that miss blake besought the duke's acceptance from his loyal town of taunton of these colours for his army, telling him that every stitch had been set with a prayer for his success or an aspiration for the cause of liberty. and then when the maidens had waved their banners, and the crowd had raised such a shout as must i think have been heard a mile away, she proceeded to present the sword and the bible, saying that it was for the sake of the true faith and liberty to read the word of god and study it each in the way which was most acceptable and comprehensible that they welcomed him here to-day as a messenger from on high. she also added that with the sword he was begged to defend the bible, so that his loyal subjects and followers might enjoy the blessings of peace, and cease to tremble before the ever-increasing faction of popery, which had been raising its hydra head menacingly ever since the new king had sat upon the throne. there was another tremendous outburst of cheering at that, and the duke appeared transported by enthusiasm and ardour. making a step forward, he met the lady half-way up the flight, and taking from her hands (which he proceeded to kiss with courtly reverence) the sword and the book, he held both up before the eyes of the people and proclaimed in a loud voice,-- "brave men and my very good friends and citizens of taunton, i stand here amongst you pledged to a noble cause; and these two gifts which have been placed in my hands are fitting emblems of the work which shall be done, god helping the righteous cause. with this sword will i fight for the liberties of all subjects of this realm. i come now into the field with the set purpose to defend the truths contained in this book, and to seal it with my blood should there be occasion for it." at the sound of these brave words women broke into weeping and blessing, and men into lusty shouts and cheers. "god save the duke! god bless and protect our noble duke! a monmouth! a monmouth!" shouted the crowd. the duke bowed his thanks, saluted the lady once again, and pressing to his heart the book, gave it reverently into the keeping of one from the house, who carried it indoors. at the same time the duke's charger was brought up just beyond the ring of white-robed maidens; and still holding the sword in his hand, he sprang gallantly upon its back, whilst at the same time his gentlemen stepped down and presented each his hand to one of the maidens, who remained standing with the colours as before. lord grey was the first, and he gave his hand to miss blake, who was, in spite of her years, a personable lady, with much grace of bearing, and with fine eyes and good features. lord vere followed next, as his rank warranted, and gave his hand to mistress mary, whose face was dyed with a beautiful blush. other gentlemen and officers followed, and each led by the hand one of the smiling maids, all of whom looked brimming over with joy and pride at the grandeur of their escort, and the brave show that was being made. the procession having thus re-formed, and being headed by the gallant duke, who kept his horse at a foot's pace, and paraded slowly onward, so that the crowd might drink its fill of the gay spectacle, proceeded leisurely onwards through the streets in the direction of the meadows where the troops had encamped for the night; and when we arrived there we found them all drawn up in companies, presenting, in spite of all drawbacks in the matter of arms and accoutrements, a right goodly and imposing show. colonel wade had seen to this part of it, and had taken care to have in the foremost rank those men who were possessed of uniforms and proper arms, so that to our unaccustomed eyes the whole rank and file of the great army (for to us it looked mighty indeed) was as grand and as gay as the band of gentlemen surrounding the person of his grace. three thousand men had come with the duke to taunton; but i think that five thousand must have already assembled beneath his banner in those meadows. i know that when he marched forth a couple of days later, it was with an army seven thousand strong. every hour fresh men were pouring in, the militia deserting to him as fast as opportunity permitted. truly it was an inspiriting and invigorating sight that greeted our eyes as we reached the meadow in the wake of the gallant procession of chivalry and beauty; and when the duke rode from rank to rank, allotting the colours, and telling his soldiers the story of how they had been made and presented, the shouts and cheers that rang forth will scarce be forgotten by any that heard them; and the maidens received a right gallant thanksgiving from the soldiers, albeit somewhat noisily expressed. a great concourse had gathered from far and near to behold the spectacle, and as i moved about the field my eyes were attracted by the flutter of a white kerchief. looking more attentively at the owner of it (for it appeared to me to be waved with a purpose, and that to catch my eye), i saw beneath the closely-drawn hood, which almost hid her features, the bright eyes of mistress mary bridges, albeit she was dressed in so homely a fashion, with a long grey cloak covering her gown, that, seated on a pillion as she was, behind a stout fellow who looked like a countryman, i should never have known her had it not been that i looked at her very closely. seeing that she had caught my eye, she waved her kerchief again, and i made my way up to her side as fast as i could. "mistress mary," i whispered, wonderingly, for i knew her father to be a stanch supporter of the king in london, "how come you hither?" "hist, dicon, thou wilt not betray me! i knew not how to keep away when all the world said there was such a brave show to be seen here, and i knew well what it all betided. i felt that i must see somewhat of it. i must see the duke with mine own eyes, else i should never rest satisfied; and so i sallied forth in my long cloak and hood, and found my good foster-father going to the town. i made him take me up behind, and here i be. dicon, the duke is a right gallant gentleman, and i marvel not that the people love him. i would fain raise a shout for him myself. but yet i fear me that ill will come out of this day's gallant show. dicon, i would whisper something in thine ear." i came yet nearer still, and mistress mary leaned down to speak so that none could hear what was said. "dicon," she whispered, "when i hear them talk at home of what is like to follow this rising of the people if the king's troops are victorious, as my father says they will be anon, my heart is heavy with fear for those i have come to love in this town, and above all for my beautiful and beloved mary mead. dicon, thou knowest that her banner is, of all others, like to give offence. it may be that she will be in greater peril than the rest. but be the peril what it may, i will give my right hand sooner than harm shall befall her. dicon, thou lovest mary, dost thou not?" "i would lay down my life to save her!" i answered, with sudden energy. "twice over would i give my life--once for love of her, and once for the love i bear my lord the viscount, whose heart is bound up with hers." little mistress mary eyed me with approval. she too thought of the viscount almost as i did, and regarded him as a very proper lover for her beloved friend. "dicon," she went on in a low tone, speaking in my ear, "thou dost know my home at bishop's hull, on the road to wellington?" "yes, mistress, i know it." "dost thou know the lane which leads into a thick wood, and a very marshy tract some two furlongs before you reach the gate to the house?" "yes; i have seen it, but never pursued it." "my foster-parents have a cottage in that copse, so cunningly hidden, and so surrounded by the marshy land, that none save those who know the rights of the way can reach it save with great trouble and difficulty. i lived in that cottage for three years, my parents being absent, and my good foster-mother as good as a mother to me. i know every foot of the ground. my foster-mother will do anything that i ask her; and if peril should ever menace my mary, take her thither without delay. she will be as safe hidden there as though the earth had opened to swallow her up. i have spoken to her of it, and she is ready and willing. no human foot ever invades the environs of their cottage, and the good folks themselves are retainers of my father, and safe from all chance of harm. remember that mary will be safe there, should harm come of this, should hurt menace her. it is in part to tell thee as much, and to give thee this charge, that i have made such shift to come hither to-day." "let me come back with you, mistress mary, and see the place," i answered her eagerly, for after the look i had seen upon mr. blewer's face only yesterday, i did truly think that mistress mary might stand in need of an asylum of refuge, even did the political storm pass by without hurting her; and the notion pleased the little lady well. i was on foot, but the distance was not great; and though the worthy countryman had to go into the city on his master's errand (he had not come to see the show, but had seen it, as it were, by an accident), he was glad to put his young mistress in my charge (the snowes were well known and trusted throughout the countryside), and get her safe out of the throng. so when he had set her down a hundred yards away from the outskirts of the press, he bid us adieu and rode for the town; whilst mistress mary and i made our way by by-paths to the thick copse standing in the marsh (now almost dry after the long drought), and i was shown by what way the cottage could be approached even in the wettest season. we were made welcome to a homely dinner by mistress mary's foster-mother, who listened eagerly to all my tale of the duke and the reception he had had, and promised to care for and hide and befriend mistress mary mead, should ever the time come when she needed help. chapter xvi. "_the taunton king._" now although everything had looked so bright and gay since the arrival of the duke at taunton, and though his reception had been so cordial, and we unlettered folk began to think the cause already won, yet there were signs which to better-informed minds were ominous and discouraging; and it was noticed even by ourselves that from time to time a look of sadness would cloud the duke's face, whilst for a few moments he would be lost in thought, and only rouse himself by an effort to respond to the joyous cheering of the crowd. and not to be further tedious, i may as well state at once what was the main cause of this anxiety, and why it was that even thus early a presage of coming disaster seemed to fall upon the duke. when first it had been put into his mind to invade england in the cause of liberty and justice, he had strenuously refused, saying that he had had enough of the strife of factions, and that since his father had left him no charge, he would henceforth remain as he was, a private gentleman, leading a private life in some foreign city. but he had been persuaded that half england would join his standard if he did but show himself, that it was his duty to assert his rights and stand forth as the champion of the rights of the people; and when the earl of argyll had sailed for scotland to stir up a rebellion there, he had promised to follow to england in a few days, and gather round him there all who would join the cause of liberty and protestantism. nevertheless he had passed his word to the earl that he came not as king, but as the supporter of the commonwealth, and that it was some such form of government that he should establish were he to be successful. it will be remembered that in the declaration made first at lyme, and afterwards read in other places, it was fully stated that he did not insist upon his title as yet, but left that matter to be decided by a parliament fairly chosen from the people; although he declared that he was a legitimate son of the late king, and could prove as much should need arise. directly upon his landing, as i have been told, there were those about him who desired that he should cause himself to be proclaimed king; but he refused, saying that it was contrary to his pledges and to his declaration--which no man could deny. but many days had now passed, and instead of the whole of the west country flocking to him in a body, only the humbler amongst the people had come forward. not one single gentleman with a following of servants and retainers had placed himself under his standard. the viscount was the only man of rank who had joined him since his landing, and he came alone and unattended, in defiance of his father's wishes and conviction, and more from personal desire to be quit of the perplexities of his position than from sympathy for the cause. rustics and yokels came flocking in, as has been shown, and the militiamen likewise by hundreds. but it was too significant a fact that the gentry stood absolutely aloof; and even mr. trenchard, who had made brave promises beforehand, and who was known to be forward in the cause of liberty, had betaken himself suddenly to france--a thing which had caused the duke not a little discomfort and sorrow. soon after his landing, two messengers had come in hot haste from london with the news that things were ripe for a revolt there, and that colonel danvers was only waiting for the signal of the insurrection in the west to raise the whole city in the duke's favour. this, together with the expectation, everywhere rife, that cheshire was on the point of breaking into open rebellion, had cheered his spirits greatly, as had also the brave reception he had met on his route to taunton. but nothing more had been heard of the rising in london. many of his followers, who best knew the character of the man, told him plainly that colonel danvers was a time-server and hypocrite, and that no reliance could be placed upon him; whilst as day after day went by and still no men of any mark came forward, every person about him began to feel that matters were growing serious. i have to explain all this at some length in order to make it to be understood why, after his declaration to the contrary, the duke at last permitted himself to be proclaimed king, to the great joy of the citizens of taunton, who had desired it from the very first. it was urged upon him vehemently now that the reason why the gentlemen stood aloof from his cause, even whilst heartily hating and distrusting the reigning king, was partly because they hated the name of commonwealth even more, and would not take up arms in any cause that did not promise the continuance of the monarchical system; partly because, as things were now, there was too much peril for his followers, and that in case of disaster they were all dead men. now at first sight it may seem strange that such should be the case. one might naturally suppose that the peril would be greater to those who followed him (in the case of defeat) if he had proclaimed himself king; but men who understood the law said that this was not so. and they further explained their words to the unlettered by telling us that there was a statute made in the reign of king henry the seventh (who, it will be remembered, obtained his crown by force of arms) sheltering all those persons who should obey a king who was king _de facto_, as it was termed, even though he should not be a king _de juro_. and i understand by this that a king _de facto_ is one who, like the duke, comes with a great following, and for the time being proclaiming himself king, and being obeyed as one, does exercise royal prerogative, although in law he may be no monarch, and may never live to wear a crown. if therefore those who obey such a king could shelter themselves behind this statute, it would naturally give men courage to join the standard. for instead of being considered mere rebels following an obscure insurrection, they would be following one who was for the time being their king. this is what was argued upon one side, whilst others said that if the duke once took such a step he would make the breach between himself and his uncle irreconcilable, and seal his own doom in case misfortune attended him. but the duke answered to such words that for himself he cared nothing, that his desire in all things was to do what was right and best for his followers, and that he would abide by the counsel of the majority of his advisers. there were other matters to discuss also to-day in the council of war which was held after the grand spectacle of the giving of the colours which i have described. it was now known that the duke of albemarle was following hard after the rebel army, and that he was either at wellington or not far away. scouts had even come in to say he was marching upon taunton, but that had proved untrue. the question arose as to whether the duke's army should march back and give battle to him as early as possible, or march on towards bristol, which, if once captured, would be a weighty prize in the hands of the party; for it would give him a basis of operations which he never could have so long as no garrison town was in his hands. whether what was decided was wise or the reverse, i cannot say, having no knowledge of such matters; but i was told by the viscount that evening, when he returned to his quarters from the council, that it had been decided to march in a northerly direction, and that probably the move would be made on sunday. it was now friday night, and when i asked why not to-morrow, since time seemed of much importance in these matters, one of his curious smiles passed over the viscount's face, and he replied significantly. "to-morrow is needed for another matter. to-morrow will give to us a new king james." then, with a thrill of intense excitement, i realized what was about to happen, and i quickly ran out into the streets to spread the news. it was known already in many quarters, and the town was alive with citizens all crowding together and talking of the coming event. nothing but approval reigned in taunton. we were proud to think that our town would be honoured by being the one in which the new king should be first proclaimed. mistress mary mead's banner, although her own workmanship and design, did but reflect in its legend the feelings and opinions of the citizens. all night long the good folks were up, renewing the wreaths in their windows, and adding to the festive appearance of their city. and when soon after break of day the heralds went about giving notice that all loyal subjects were invited to attend at the market cross in the cornhill to the proclamation to be made, the press of people gathering there was almost greater than even upon the day previous; whilst the windows which gave upon the place were crowded to suffocation, and the city seemed again to have gone mad with joy. several magistrates were there as on thursday, wearing their gowns, and striving to conduct themselves in such a fashion as should give no cause of offence to either side. i believe they were forced out of fear to be present, lest they should be torn to pieces by the populace; but it was against the grain with many to appear, and as soon as they were able they withdrew, and hid themselves in their houses so long as the new king remained in the city. the duke was mounted upon his charger, and surrounded by his small band of gentlemen, as usual. his face was pale, i thought, and although he returned the vociferous salutations of the crowd with his usual courtly grace, i thought there was an air of anxiety and restlessness about him, and in my heart i doubted if he himself desired this honour which was thrust upon him. places of honour near to the duke and his _cortége_ had been reserved for miss blake and her white-robed maidens, who appeared once more before the eyes of taunton. i noted that viscount vere shifted his position a little so that he stood very close to mistress mary mead, and i think that they had some minutes of conversation together from time to time. at any rate their eyes must often have met, and i suppose that the language of the eyes is often full of eloquence, and says as much as the tongue can do. after a great blowing of trumpets and the usual preliminaries, the proclamation was read in loud tones by mr. tyley, who stood upon the steps of the market cross to do so; and whilst he read a deep silence fell upon the listening crowd, who drank in every word with eager avidity:-- "whereas, upon the decease of our sovereign lord charles the second, the right of succession to the crown of england, scotland, france, and ireland, with the dominions and territories thereunto belonging, did legally descend and devolve upon the most illustrious and high-born prince james duke of monmouth, son and heir apparent to the said king charles; but james duke of york (taking advantage of the absence of the said james duke of monmouth beyond the seas) did first cause the said late king to be poisoned, and immediately thereupon did usurp and invade the crown, and doth continue so to do: we therefore, the noblemen, gentlemen, and commons at present assembled, in the names of ourselves and of all the loyal and protestant noblemen, gentlemen, and commons of england, in pursuance of our duty and allegiance, and for the delivering of the kingdom from popery, tyranny, and oppression, do recognize, publish, and proclaim the said high and mighty prince james duke of monmouth our lawful and rightful sovereign and king, by the name of james the second, by the grace of god king of england, scotland, france, and ireland, defender of the faith. god save the king. proclaimed at taunton, the twentieth day of june ." what cheers and shouts went up from the people as the last words were read! "god save the king!"--"god save the king!" men shouted themselves hoarse, women fell a-weeping, and thanked god aloud amid their tears for sending them such a deliverer. children, held aloft in their fathers' arms, flung posies and wreaths at the feet of the newly-made king; whilst miss blake, at the head of her pupils, stepped forward to claim the privilege of being first to kiss the hand of royalty. all the maidens followed in turn, and the king, after permitting each to kiss his hand, saluted them upon the cheek, as was the custom of the day, though from royalty a marvellous condescension. then after the white-robed procession of virgins had retired within their own doors, followed by the cheers and good wishes of the people, the duke was beset by a loving crowd of men and women, all desiring to kiss his hand and do homage to him; whilst from the church towers the bells pealed forth, and that very day in the evening service he was prayed for as king. mothers with children afflicted by the king's evil brought them to him to be touched, and i heard that many were thus cured in a few days, though i speak from hearsay and not of mine own knowledge, having more to think of than the matter of the children. our hearts were made glad to-day likewise by the arrival of colonel basset, one of cromwell's captains, who came in with a company that he himself had raised. this looked indeed as though good were to come out of this step; yet men said that the colonel looked ill pleased when he heard of the proclamation just made, being far more in favour himself of the setting up of a commonwealth. thus it may well be seen how hard it is to please all men; and every step gives offence in some quarters, however it may be desired in others. another man of some note who joined the duke here was one colonel perrot, from southwark near london. men whispered of him that he had been concerned in that extraordinary attempt of blood's upon the crown and regalia; but as i know not the details of that story, and as it has no concern with the present narrative, i will say no more of it. colonel perrot was warmly welcomed, and thought to be an addition to our staff of officers; of which, indeed, we stood in need, so many thousands of common people having flocked to the standard at taunton. and now the duke, being proclaimed king, and so acknowledged throughout the town, sent forth almost at once other proclamations which were eagerly read by the people. the first set a sum of money upon the head of the usurping james of york; the second declared the present parliament a seditious assembly; a third commanded all men to refrain from paying any taxes levied by the duke of york; and a fourth declared the duke of albemarle and many others rebels, and authorized all loyal subjects to wage war upon them till they were destroyed. each proclamation was received with enthusiasm and joy by the people, and will wiseman was kept busy until his voice gave out in reading them to all who desired to hear. such bold words seemed to augur success; and as we said one to another, the duke would not make such sounding phrases, nor breathe forth such threatenings and slaughter, did he not know himself prepared to carry on the war to a successful issue. it was soon known also that our king had sent letters both to the duke of albemarle and to lord churchill commanding them to lay down their arms; and we did not doubt that this would greatly perturb and alarm those generals, who must be by this time finding out the temper of the people, and how little they could depend upon their soldiers to fight against their new king. but the day was not to be one of entire joy and triumph, for as evening drew on there began to be some fresh commotion in the streets; and running forth to see what it might mean, i found people looking scared and grave, whilst women began to cry out,-- "the duke of albemarle is coming! we shall be destroyed! our town will be demolished! there will be a terrible and bloody battle ere nightfall. god have mercy on us all!" and amongst these cries i heard several whisper, as though half ashamed of their own words, as well indeed they might be,-- "would to heaven he had not come! we had at least peace before. now no man can say what will become of us!" in a state of some alarm and more indignation--for it seemed to me a coward trick thus to speak because the hour of danger might be near; but then women have no stomach for fighting, and perhaps mean not the half of what they say--i ran towards the field where the army was encamped, thinking i should get the news soonest there. as i did so i met my lord the viscount coming towards the town, looking grave and thoughtful, but with no haste or urgency in his manner; and when his eye fell on me he paused and smiled. "is there to be a battle, my lord?" i cried, panting in my haste. "in the town they say the duke's army is upon us. the people seem in a sudden fright. hath aught of hurt befallen?" "nothing of grave moment," answered the viscount. "a few men of ours have been killed not far from chard, whither they had gone to reconnoitre. they were fallen upon by a body of the enemy's horse, and some were killed, whilst the rest rode back thither post-haste. but the duke and lord churchill are generals of no mean valour, and their close proximity to the town has decided the duke--nay, i must now say the king" (and a smile passed over his face that was beyond my power to read)--"to leave taunton on the morrow, and seek to reach bristol as soon as possible. if we can find entrance there and make it our own, all may go well for the time; but if we fail in that, it were better to face our enemies now at once, than go forward with them hanging on our rear, and lord feversham and colonel kirke in front." "but, my lord, how can we fail, with all the country flocking to the king's standard?" "my good dicon," answered the viscount, "dost thou not know that already we have exhausted our supply of arms, and the recruits who would fain join our muster have perforce to be sent back, because we have nothing wherewith to equip them? hast not heard yet that one of our frigates sailed away with colonel fletcher, after the mischance at lyme, and that the other two have been seized upon by our enemies, and such arms as they contained have all been lost to us? if gentlemen with armed retainers will now join us, they will be gladly welcomed; but for unarmed country yokels--why, we have enough and to spare of such. we are now forced to send them back to their own homes; nor do i think the cause loses much by so doing. it is not with such forces as these that the kingdoms of the world are won." "but others will join now that the duke is made king!" i cried eagerly, having heard some of the reasons for that step. "we shall see," answered the viscount, with his peculiar smile. "at present it seemeth to me that we have succeeded in disgusting the advocates of commonwealth and republican opinion without winning those whom we have sought." "but, my lord, it is but a few hours." "right, dicon. i speak not from what has happened---or not happened--in these few hours, but from my own knowledge of the world i come from. a king proclaimed in taunton forsooth--at the head of five thousand scythe-armed rustics! a wondrous thing indeed! a right royal personage! dicon, dicon, methinks the duke of monmouth might have won some following, for men are deeply discontented with the rule of the tyrant james; but they will not raise a finger for a puppet-king--the king of a rabble of low-born knaves and varlets! i speak not these words of scorn of mine own self; i do but rehearse what will be the words in the mouths of those gentlemen from whom such brave things are expected. ferguson, wade, hucker--they know no better; but my lord grey should have lifted his voice against it. it is a blunder we can never repair now; but methinks it will be the death-blow to the cause." "my lord, my lord, say not so! all taunton is rejoicing. all taunton will stand by his majesty to the death!" "is that so, dicon? thou wilt see erelong. i think it would not take much misfortune to turn taunton back to her grudging loyalty to the present king." "o my lord, taunton has ever been true to the cause of liberty!" "ay, but not to the cause of monarchy. there is the rub. the king is now pledged to rule as a monarch; and methinks taunton has been dreaming all this while of a commonwealth." "but, my lord, think how they greeted the king to-day!" "true, carried away by love for him, and the excitement of the hour. well, dicon, thou mayest know thy towns-folk better than i do. yet i misdoubt me if taunton will long lift her voice for her new-made king; and i would that there had been less of pageant within her boundaries, and that it had been some other place which had given him such royal honours. i would that those colours had never been worked and presented in taunton, and that my mary had had no hand in the matter." "dost think harm will come to her, my lord?" i asked anxiously. "if this rebellion, or revolution, or what you good folks choose to call it, come to naught, i verily believe that a signal vengeance will be taken by the outraged monarch; and if so, the town of taunton, thou mayest be sure, will be one to win for herself the first place in the royal disfavour. dicon, hast thou ever seen the lord chief-justice jeffreys? he came on circuit not so long since in the west. didst thou see him then?" "no, my lord," i answered, slightly shivering at the name of one who was held in terror and execration by all dissenters in the west of england. "it so chanced that when he came i was on a visit to my father's farm. i heard of him when he had gone." "dicon," said the viscount gravely, "if thou hadst seen that man, thou wouldst have felt that thou hadst seen the devil incarnate. if ever the spirit of a devil looked out of human eyes, it does so from the eyes of that man. and, dicon, he stands high in the king's favour. if a cruel and bloody piece of work has to be done, it will be my lord chief-justice jeffreys who will be sent to do it. when i think that my peerless mary may in the days to come be brought face to face with that monster, my blood freezes in my veins with horror. dicon, i am too deeply implicated now to be of use to her, and she may need a protector in the days to come." he broke off suddenly, biting his lips, as though to subdue an inward agitation, and then he suddenly began again, "boy, i think that thou dost love me?" "my lord, i would die for you if i might save you from peril!" and in truth i meant what i said, for it is easy to think and speak of death when the peril is far off. it is another matter when it seems to be looking you in the face; but then i did not know that, and spoke in all sincerity. my lord smiled, and put his hand for a moment on my shoulder--a thing which sent the blood tingling through my veins. "i ask none such sacrifice as that, good dicon," he said. "my life is of none such great value; yet i believe in thy good-will, boy, and i thank thee for it. thou lovest me, i know well, and methinks that thou dost love my gentle lady too?" "my lord, i would die for her too," i answered, not able to think of any other way of expressing the devotion i felt. "good," he answered; "to die in such sweet service would not, methinks, be hard. yet i would not have thee die, good dicon, but live to serve and perchance to save her. boy, i lay this charge upon thee; and if thou lovest me thou wilt perform it faithfully, in so far as it may be possible. when the issue of this insurrection is known, and if that issue be disaster to this new king's cause, and that peril threaten taunton and mary, and i am unable to help or succour her, then do thou watch over her with all such care and diligence as is possible to thee. guard her from harm if such a thing may be; and strive at all risk to save her from the evil power of mr. blewer, if he should seek (as is like enough) to advantage himself by the winning of her hand and her fortune when there be none to defend her from him. it may not be possible, dicon, that thou canst do this; yet thou hast a shrewd wit, and thou livest so nigh at hand that thou mayest be able to contrive what another could not do. wilt thou at least take this charge from me, and seek to fulfil it by every means in thy power?" and with a heart swelling with pride and devotion i answered, "i will, my lord." chapter xvii. _on the war-path._ "uncle, i cannot help it! i will do nothing to injure any who bear my name! i will change that name if needs be--but i must go! i cannot stay behind, knowing nothing of what is happening save what the voice of rumour whispers. i must see and know for myself. none shall be hurt through me. but prithee let me go. it may be that i will be able to send thee word of things that thou wouldst fain know. hinder me not, good uncle, for needs must that i fare forth with the king!" my uncle regarded me reflectively and gravely, as i poured forth these words early upon the sunday morning that had so little of sabbath stillness in the air. i had been up and about already, although the day was yet young. i had heard that the camp was to be broken up forthwith, and a march made towards bridgewater. the thought of seeing the king and all his soldiers march away, and of remaining behind in the city a prey to all sorts of fancied terrors, and in suspense as to what might be happening elsewhere, seemed intolerable to me. the fever of war had got into my blood, and though i knew i could never be a soldier, i felt that i must needs see war, or i should die of disappointment. perhaps my uncle felt sympathy with me; more possibly he thought that such a hot partisan of the new-made king was more of a peril to him in his house than following upon the path of the soldiers in that mob which always waits upon the steps of an army. there few would know or take note of me. here i was known by pretty well every one in the city. if i was resolved upon throwing in my lot with the army, i might be in less peril myself and cause less danger to others there than in the town of taunton. so after steadily regarding me for a while, and revolving the matter slowly in his mind, after his fashion, he answered,-- "well, well, well, a wilful lad will go his own way. thou must e'en choose thine own path, dicon. i will not keep thee here against thy will, but i counsel thee not to run into greater danger than needs must be. we may all be in peril of our lives for all i know ere this matter be settled; and where the greater danger lies heaven knows and not i. wherefore take thine own way, but use all prudence and caution. thou hast a good head of thine own, and quick wits when thou dost use them aright. see that thou walkest as warily as may be in the perilous days that be like to fall upon us." "i will be careful, i will be wary," i answered eagerly. and in great excitement and joy at having so easily won my uncle's good-will, i ran to tell meg and will wiseman, and then to groom and feed blackbird, and decide what to take with me in my saddle-bags; for i knew little as to what might lie before me, but desired to be at charges with no man, and to pay for everything that i might need. meg, whose heart was almost as much in the cause as mine, gave me some crown pieces out of her store for my needs, and my aunt did the like. i had money of mine own too, and some of this i took; yet i would not dip too deeply into my hoard, because i had a feeling that i must keep it for other needs than mine own. should evil days fall upon us, and should i have cause to keep the pledge i had made to my lord the viscount, i might need the golden guineas i had earned bit by bit by my letter-writing, and so forth, and had stored away so carefully these two past years in a secret receptacle of mine own. the silver coins i took with me, but the golden guineas i left where they were. a few groats would go far to keep me; to say nothing of shillings and crowns, of which i had many. but gold might prove a peril, and i would none of it. out into the streets i went next, to find the citizens in hot discussion together, and not all of them well pleased at what was doing. there were many amongst them who had confidently hoped that before the duke left he would have raised up fortifications around the city, have built up the ancient walls, and left there a garrison to keep and defend the place for him. colonel hucker was the centre of this group, and he was speaking warmly in favour of this thing. "what use to the cause is a city without walls?" he was asking. "why, if we march out to-day, the duke of albemarle can march in to-morrow, and none can let or hinder him!" [and in very truth that was just what did happen, for the new king's army left on sunday afternoon, and the duke of albemarle was in the city on tuesday, albeit he made no long stay, but continued his pursuit of our army towards the north.] "what we want is to leave behind us garrisoned cities holding for his majesty. if one king can pull down fortifications, surely another can build them up! taunton has held her own gallantly in times of war, and has stood notable sieges in a good cause; nor has the temper of her citizens changed. give her but walls and towers and a few good soldiers to lead and direct her citizens, and she would hold out as gallantly as ever. what do you say, fellow-townsmen? shall not taunton be restored to her former glories? can she not do even as she did before?" "ay, ay; that she can."--"give us walls and soldiers, and we will show the usurping tyrant what taunton can do."--"where is the king? let him but give the word, and every man among us will become for the nonce a stonemason, that we may begin to build our walls afresh!" such were the cries of the citizens, and such their enthusiasm in the cause. there is nothing so catching as the martial fever, except it be the panic which sometimes sets in afterwards. but though the zeal of the city was great, the young king could not be brought to see the matter as colonel hucker sought to show it him. he said there was no time to build walls--which was true enough--and that he could not spare men to garrison it if it were fortified even in a most hasty and rapid way. colonel hucker, who had looked to be made captain of the garrison and keeper of the city, was not a little disappointed, and all taunton with him; but there was too much right on the king's side for us to urge the matter beyond a certain point; and as the viscount said to me, as we rode out at last towards bridgewater,-- "if we can once secure bristol, there we shall have a fortified city at our command forthwith. that is the task we should set ourselves to do without delay. would that we were already before its walls! these delays will be the undoing of us, i fear. already has the king in london had ten days in which to muster and send forces out west. had we been quicker, we might have had a fortress of our own already. heaven send there be no more such tardiness!" my lord vere was one of those men who seem to be soldiers born. he had not had the training and experience of some of the others, including our new king himself, yet it seemed to me that if his counsels had but been followed from the first we should have been marching to victory now, and making the usurper shake upon his tottering throne. as we rode along i could not but tell my lord of the witch we had visited, and of what she had told us. i hoped that it might give him more heart (for i knew by many signs that he thought the enterprise well-nigh desperate), but he only gave me one of his curious smiles. "a wise woman truly, dicon, to foresee more blood than glory in this undertaking." "nay, but, good my lord, she said that the usurper would die in exile. how may that be, if our gracious king be not victorious?" "it may be that thou wilt live to see such a thing one day, dicon," answered my lord, "and yet not see king monmouth on the throne. knowest thou not that there be men who have already fixed their eyes upon the prince of orange, husband to the king's daughter, as a possible saviour and deliverer? the witch knows more of such things, i trow, than thou dost, boy, in spite of all thy learning." "the witch hath a familiar who tells her what the future will bring forth," i answered quickly, for i liked not to hear my learning compared with that of an ignorant old woman, who would be nothing without her familiar. and at that my lord smiled again, but said nothing; and indeed i forgot the whole matter next moment, for we saw approaching us from behind, in hot haste, lord lonsdale himself, whose face wore a look of such anxiety and pain that i was quite sorry for him. now it so chanced that the viscount was not with his company at this time. he had been detained by some duty which the king had set him to do, and had not been able to leave the camp so soon as the soldiers. this was the reason why, when he came riding after us a little later, he had drawn rein upon seeing me on the outskirts of the crowd of followers, and had paused to ask what i did there, and to gently chide me for my folly in leaving a safe shelter for the uncertainties of war. it was whilst we were riding together thus in the rear, having by this time left behind the crowd who pressed after us on foot--will wiseman amongst them, to see the last of us--that we heard the sound of these hasty pursuing horse-hoofs, and turning round beheld lord lonsdale riding apace after us. i thought the viscount's face changed and hardened slightly as he saw his father; but he drew rein and waited till he came up. "my son, my son," began lord lonsdale, in whose face and voice anger and anxious fear seemed to be struggling together, "what madness, what folly is this? a son of mine to be in arms with a rebel duke, daring to lay claim to the crown of england! vere, vere, you are not like these ignorant rustics whom any one can delude by a specious tale. you know that england will never submit to see a base-born king sitting upon the throne. be the present king never so much the tyrant, he rules by his hereditary right; and you know that this young duke has no more chance of being england's king than thou hast thyself. boy, thou canst not look me in the face and tell me that thy heart is in the cause! i know thee too well for that!" lord vere made no attempt to meet this challenge, although he looked his father unflinchingly in the face for all that. "sir," he said, in a low, resolute voice, "your remonstrances come too late. i have unsheathed my sword in the cause, be it a good or an evil one; and honour forbids me to sheathe it again until that cause is either lost or won. you know well who and what drove me forth to break a bondage that had become unendurable. if i give you pain now, it is only because you have driven me to it!" "boy, boy, what folly is this! why didst thou not tell me how thine heart was bound up in that maid?" "i told you many times, sir, that my heart was so bound up with mary mead's that death itself would be preferable to life without her. i said all that a man could say, and my reward was that i was made by strategy to appear in public as the plighted husband of mistress edith portman. it was your hand that severed the bond of mutual confidence which once existed between us. i have no more to say. i follow in the steps of one to whom i have done homage as king." "vere, vere, vere!" cried the agitated father, almost in tears, as it seemed to me, his face pale with agitation, "only come back with me, only give up this mad folly, and thou shalt wed the girl when thou willest. i will say no word against it. anything is better than that thou shouldst put a halter round thine own neck. come but back with me, and all shall be as thou desirest!" there was sadness now in the viscount's face--sadness and even a little bitterness--but no sign of wavering. "sir, it is too late," he answered. "hadst thou spoken those words but ten short days ago, i would gladly have followed thee home, and given to thee a sweeter daughter than son has ever given to father yet. but it is too late now. mine honour is pledged, and not even for the sake of my duty towards you nor my love towards the lady can i lay aside that honour and break my plighted word. nay, were i to do so my lady would be the first to cry shame upon me. she is a soldier's daughter, and holds honour in more esteem than life itself. a deserter from the cause so near her heart would find no favour with her. she might have let love win the day had i not taken up arms for this young king--" "king!" breathed lord lonsdale, in a tone only just audible, but full of bitter scorn; "knowest thou what he is called--he and his army--by all loyal and honest folk? 'king scott and his vagabonds' is the name he goes by. my son, my son, to think thou shouldst be following such an one as he!" the viscount's face wore a look half sad and half bitter--like his voice when he spoke. "yes, it seemeth strange sometimes even to me; but there be strange shifts in a man's life, and a viscount may sometimes come to be ranked amongst vagabonds. father," and here his tone changed and became softer, "believe me, i am not ungrateful for your care and thought for me, and it pains me to give you pain. but i cannot go back now. i would things had been different with me; but since they are not--since i have been driven to this step--i cannot and i will not draw back. if you lose your only son by a traitor's death, it will be a grievous sorrow to you, i wot well. but even if things go ill with us, there will be many that may hope to escape with life. perchance i will be one of these. for my mary's sake as well as yours i shall make a battle for my life." lord lonsdale would have stayed to reason longer, but his son shook his head as though to say that argument was useless, as indeed it was when both father and son thought really alike upon the question, and only a sense of honour bound lord vere to the cause he never professed to believe in with his heart or soul. "farewell, father," he said softly, and put out his hand; but the earl drew back with a look of such pain as i shall not soon forget. "i may not touch the hand of a rebel," he said; and so father and son parted with more bitterness and sorrow than i like to think of even now. my lord was very grave and silent for a long time after this, as indeed he well might be, but presently rode on ahead of me to join the army. as for me, i could please myself what i did and what pace i travelled at. the infantry had gone on in advance that morning, and had covered the distance well. i thought that they would reach bridgewater easily by nightfall, and i decided that for my part i would stop for the night at my own home and tell all the news there. i was a little depressed by what i had heard between lord lonsdale and his son, and perhaps it had slightly damped my enthusiasm in the cause. i began to see that war could be a very hideous and evil thing, and i almost found it in my heart to wish that the viscount had consented to return with his father, and marry mistress mary mead forthwith, thus saving both (as i trusted it would) from all future perils. i knew that i loved and honoured him for his words, and for ranking honour above life and happiness, and i well knew that could mistress mary have been there she would have upheld him with all the earnestness and enthusiasm of her nature. i was resolved that she should one day hear the story, and know what a noble heart she had won; but just for the moment i was sorrowful and sad, and i thought that the welcomes of my family would prove a pleasant diversion for my grief. nor was i mistaken. i found all the house in a great stir, my mother more hot and bustling and excited than i had ever seen her; for it seemed that the duke (i find it hard to say king as i should; wherefore i think in the future i will still call him the duke, although for many days we all of us gave him the royal title, and were proud and glad to do so) and his company had paused at the farmstead, and had asked refreshment there. his handsome face and courteous ways had won all hearts. my mother and sisters could talk of nothing but his beauty and grace. they had refused all payment for what they had set before him, and he had kissed my mother ere leaving, and set her all in a flutter of excitement. to have been kissed by a king was an honour which none of her friends or relations had ever received. she felt lifted into a region beyond that of her daily life. i was pounced upon for news, and made to talk the whole of the day and far into the night--a thing very foreign to our home ways--so that when at last i gained my couch i slept as soundly as a dormouse, and was ashamed to find the sun high in the sky when i awoke. although my parents and brothers and sisters intermeddled not with such troublous matters as the rightful succession of kings, and so forth, their hearts were all for the gallant young duke, and i received a handsome addition to my small stock of money from my father, who bid me good-speed on my journey and a safe and prosperous return. all the country side in these parts believed that the cause of the duke would be crowned with glory and success; and it was amusing to hear their stories as to how they had evaded giving any help, and put hindrances in the way of those who were on the royal side, but how they did everything to speed the cause of the duke. blackbird was somewhat heavily laden as we started forth to bridgewater, for my mother was in sore fear lest i should not find enough to eat on the road, and she would fain have hung all manner of things around my saddle, had i not declared that i should be the laughing-stock of all the army. then with many adieus i rode off, and was not long in finding my way to bridgewater, where, as i have before stated, i had another uncle with whom i was familiarly acquainted. it really seemed to me as i rode into the town that bridgewater had striven to outdo taunton in the welcome she gave the duke. i heard that already he had been proclaimed king there; that the proclamation had been read in great state, the magistrates in their gowns standing by, and, as i also heard, not unwillingly either. flags were flying, and windows and balconies were decked as in our town, whilst the faces of the people looked as gay and happy as though no such thing as doubt or fear existed. i made my way with all speed to my uncle's house, which i found as busy as was like to be on such a day. my kinsfolk had scarce time to give me a welcome; but i set about making myself of use to them, and in so doing picked up many a piece of news of a welcome nature. it seemed that although the recruits were still of the lower class of the people, much money had been collected for the cause in this place, and that the duke and his officers were in better spirits on that account, and also because of the warmth with which they had been welcomed. the citizens and common people were beginning to think scorn of those above them, who showed themselves so backward in the good cause, and to whisper amongst themselves upon the subject. "we wonder the gentlemen come not in," they began to say. "but we will show them that we can do the work without them; and then when we are the masters we will have their estates!" that evening, as i wandered through the streets of bridgewater, i suddenly met lord vere walking rapidly and hurriedly, with a preoccupied look upon his face. seeing him thus thoughtful, i was drawing aside--for i feared to presume upon that kindness which he had ever shown me--when he suddenly saw me and paused. "ha, dicon!" he said, "i was just wondering where thou wert to be found. i want speech with thee, boy." i was at his side in a moment, eager and flattered by his words. "the matter is this, dicon," continued my lord, speaking rapidly and in a low voice:--"thou knowest enough of matters in the camp to understand that it is of the greatest moment for us to win bristol. if we fail there, i see naught for it but to be destroyed between the two armies which are marching upon us--the duke of albemarle in our rear, and lord feversham and perchance lord churchill (for there are contrary reports brought in daily and hourly) in front, or marching from the eastward. we hear that the people of bristol are anxiously awaiting us; but even of this there seems no certainty, for they say, too, that the duke of beaufort with a large body of troops has recently come into the city to hold it for the king--the king in london, dicon--and that we shall find it a tough nut to crack. all agree in saying that if once we can get possession of it we shall find arms and money and provision in abundance, and shall have achieved the first step towards a lasting success. but the question is whether we may find entrance there, and if so what will be the wisest plan of attack; and there be few men here who know the city and have friends therein who may be trusted." "they say colonel wade is from bristol," i remarked; and the viscount nodded assent. "he is; but he cannot be spared from the counsels of the duke. in fine, dicon, what i have offered to do is to ride alone, or with but one trusty servant at most, into bristol myself, to see certain men of the city with whom i have some acquaintance, and to learn how matters be there. i am then to return and advise the duke what he should do; for never was man so beset before with counsellors all advocating different views, and sure never had general such a strange company of captains under him, scarce a man of them trained to war, and some scarce knowing how to handle arms!" "you are going to bristol then, my lord?" "yes: i shall start with the first light of dawn to-morrow, which will be shortly after three o'clock; and i have sought thee, dicon, to know if thou wilt be mine esquire for the nonce and ride with me. that black pony of thine will carry thee bravely and well, as i know; and there be few of the steeds our men have of which i could say the same. thou hast no air of martial valour to raise suspicion. i shall but appear like a traveller upon the road with my servant behind me. i think we shall not be in danger's way till our errand is done, and--" "my lord, i would follow you to the world's end, be the dangers never so great!" i cried, my heart swelling with pride that he had made choice of me out of all the company in that great army. "i have been longing this many a day to do some service either for you or for our gracious young king. let me go with you. i will serve you as no servant would, and lay down my life for you if need be." he smiled at my protestation, and answered kindly,-- "i trust that may not be needful, good dicon; but if thou wilt thou shalt serve me in this thing. canst meet me then here in this spot by three of the clock to-morrow morning? good! i shall look for thee. see to thy steed to-night, for we must travel with all speed. i shall strive to reach bristol to-morrow, and as early in the day as the distance will permit." "i will not fail you, my lord," i answered proudly, my heart beating high within me. "and shall we return to the army when you have fulfilled your errand? shall we see the fight when the foe is before us?" "truly i think we shall, dicon," answered my lord with a smile. "the enemy seems in small haste to attack us; but whether that be a good or an evil sign i wot not. yes, boy, i mean to be in the thick of that fight whenever it does take place;" and his eyes shone for a moment from beneath their bent brows with the battle light which the thought of action brings into the faces of all true soldiers. "i too would bear my share in that fight, as i see thou wouldst too. but i doubt not we shall be in time for that. it is not fighting, it is this delay, these pageants and proclamations, which sicken me. would we were intrenched before bristol now, doing and daring all, instead of trusting that some great thing will come to us. well, boy, thou and i will see what is like to be our fate in that city. to-morrow before sunrising; and heaven give us a good journey!" chapter xviii. _in peril in a strange city._ of our long day's ride from bridgewater to bristol i do not purpose to speak in detail, being anxious to get on to more stirring scenes; and yet it was upon this day that i began to understand somewhat more clearly the nature of the enterprise on which we were embarked, and to see that the progress of the duke was not much longer to be a march of unmixed triumph. as we pursued our journey, sometimes along the roads, sometimes across open tracts of country, where blackbird's cleverness and sagacity gave us great help in picking our way, we encountered bands of stern-faced men riding along with an air of purpose--men clad in such armour as was worn by regular soldiers, and showing in their air and bearing a martial bravery which was greatly lacking in the ranks i had lately seen. these men looked at us with sharp glances as they passed; but our appearance was so harmless that nothing was said to us of a disquieting character. sometimes we were asked if we had seen aught of "king scott's army;" and though the gibe in the voice of the questioner made my cheek flame, my lord would answer quietly enough that he believed it to be encamped somewhere near to bridgewater. once we journeyed some little distance with a party of these men. the commanding officer rode with the viscount in front, and a couple of the troopers, who were greatly taken by blackbird, and would fain know his history, came and rode beside me. i learned from them that they were on the way to bristol to join the garrison there. they had been sent by the duke of albemarle, who was advancing upon taunton, but had had to make a wide circuit to avoid the army of "king scott" at bridgewater, and were glad to fall in with travellers upon the waste of moorland, being but little acquainted with the country. i asked them why they spoke of the duke of monmouth as "king scott;" and they laughed, and said that he had forfeited his right to the title of duke by his act of high treason. they told me that since his marriage, when quite a lad, he had taken the name of his noble wife, wanting one of his own, and that that name was scott. they jeered and gibed at him and his feeble insurrection in a fashion that made my heart beat fast with mingled wrath and fear, and kept me in constant dread of betraying myself by some unguarded word. but for my lord's sake i strove for patience and discretion; and being accounted but a boy, and a hunchback to boot, i misdoubt if any words of mine would have been taken seriously by the troopers who rode for a time with us. still i was glad when they left us; and though my lord's face was the graver after they had gone, he did not tell me aught that had passed betwixt him and the captain. indeed a heavy rain began falling soon, which, though sorely needed by the country after the long drought, was not a pleasant thing for travellers, and made us wrap ourselves in our mantles and draw our hats over our brows, and so pick our way with care and pains. it had long been dark, and the rain was pouring down steadily and pitilessly, and our good horses were growing weary and jaded before the lights of bristol flashed through the night, cheering us into a better pace than we had been able to get out of the horses for the past hour. the road too became better, and our hearts revived within us; but still i can remember little of our arrival at that great city, i was so dazed and wearied and confused by the long journey and the strangeness of everything about me. there were a halt and a parley at the gate ere we got in, but my lord seemed to have no great trouble in obtaining entrance; and soon we found ourselves at a snug little hostelry, where there was good accommodation to be had for both man and beast, and where we were soon seated at a table set before a grand fire, the damp rising in clouds from our wet garments as we buckled to over our trenchers and ate as only men do who have fasted many hours, and travelled far to boot. our host waited himself upon us, many of his people having already gone to bed, and he was full of the rebellion, and the excitement prevailing in the city. he was very cautious for a while in telling us what was the feeling within the walls; but my lord had a way with him which quickly won the confidence of those with whom he spoke, and by-and-by i woke up from the doze into which i had fallen to find our host whispering many things to my lord with an air of eager secrecy. he said that the people were very discontented with the present king and with the parliament, with the way in which justice was administered, and, above all, with the spirit of persecution which was springing up. "if the duke had but landed here or marched here straight," continued the man, in a husky whisper, "the town would have been his almost without the striking of a blow. but now his grace of beaufort has come in with the regulars, and they say the earl of feversham is close at hand, and may be looked for to-morrow or the next day. what can the citizens do when the iron hand of the army is at their throat? if only he had come sooner!" interesting as all this was to me, i was too weary to listen to more, and in fact was taken with such a fit of shivering that my teeth chattered in my head, and it was with much difficulty that i dragged myself up the stairs to bed, pulled off my wet clothes, and crept in there. my lord came himself to see me, and brought me a hot spiced posset, which, as soon as i had drunk it, sent me off into a sounder sleep than i think i ever slept before; for when i awoke again i found that the next day had slipped quite away, and that it was evening of tuesday, and i had lain abed like a log when i had meant to be up and about after any business my lord might give me to do. i arose in a great shame, and finding my clothes dried and brushed by my bedside, i dressed with what speed i might, and went below. the room was filled with people of the lower sort, all talking together in excitement and heat. i sat in a corner and ate a piece of bread whilst i listened to all that was being said, and strove to gain knowledge of what had happened during the day. one thing i heard which troubled me much. lord feversham had entered the city with a large body of troops--two hundred and fifty horse-guards, as i learned later. but there was more than this; for i heard, too, that the bridge over the great river severn had been broken down by the earl's men at keynsham, so that it should be impossible for the duke of monmouth's army to approach the city. this was very bad news for me, and, as it seemed, for the people also. in this place, at least, there was no hesitation as to which rule was preferred--that of the popish king on the throne, or that of the champion of liberty and protestantism come to wage war upon him. if men spoke with bated breath of the coming deliverer, it was not because they were half-hearted in the cause; and here and there a voice would be raised to ask why, if all the citizens were agreed, the soldiers could not be outnumbered and overawed? why the will of the people should not prevail over some few thousands of hired mercenaries, who at heart most like did not love the king better than the towns-folk? these high sounding-words were taken up and passed from mouth to mouth; but yet i could see that none knew how concerted action amongst the citizens could be begun now that the town was guarded by soldiers and a close watch set about the walls and even in the streets. yet as the night drew on other men kept dropping in, and it was whispered that the duke of monmouth was after all approaching; that some of the horse had already reached pensford; that another day might bring them beneath the walls of bristol; and that then would be the moment for all the city to rise. i listened with beating heart and straining ears to all this, wondering what the truth of it might be, and if indeed the city would open its gate to our new-made king. presently i ventured to enter into conversation with some of those nearest to me, and told how i had been in taunton when monmouth had been proclaimed king. this excited great interest in the minds of those about, and i was made to tell the story out aloud, whilst the people listened with mouths agape, and i could see by their eager faces how they longed to see him proclaimed here in bristol. presently, however, some soldiers came marching in and ordered wine. they looked about upon the people with an air of suspicion and severity which quickly changed the aspect of the assembly. first one group and then another broke up and went out, and in a short time there were scarce half-a-dozen persons left. "your good customers seem mightily afraid of a buff jerkin and a musket, landlord," remarked one of the soldiers as he drained his goblet. "have a care that you harbour not seditious malcontents in your house, or it may chance to go ill with you one of these days." and then the soldiers clattered out, having probably done what they came to do; whilst the landlord's face, which had been pale and submissive in presence of the troopers, grew dark with fear and hatred. "those cursed soldiers!" he hissed beneath his breath. "a man goes in fear of his life and his property when the city is beset with them." "heaven send us a speedy deliverer!" breathed another, with clinched hand and frowning brows. "all the city would rise to greet him, i verily believe--soldiers or no soldiers!" late at night the viscount came in, and told me something of how his day had been spent. it was quite true that the citizens were as much in favour of the duke here as in the other places where we had seen the welcome they gave him. but the presence of a strong garrison and a determined commander put a very different face upon the matter in this fortified town. the garrison had possession of the walls and citadel, and could turn their arms upon the towns-people as well as upon the foe if there were any tumult or rising. some were in favour of stirring up a revolt within the walls so soon as the duke should be without, engaging the soldiers in defence of their gates and ramparts; but men who knew as much of war as the viscount were doubtful whether such a rising would be attended with success. there was something in the presence of regular troops which acted as an effectual check to burgher risings. a panic quickly set in at the sight of cold steel and the remorseless action of trained soldiery. forty years of peace had weakened the warlike traditions of the past generation who remembered the civil war. "citizens talk, and speak great swelling words, but too often they run like sheep at the first sight of pike and musket," said my lord; and when i remembered how the crowd in this very room had dispersed like a mist before the handful of troopers who had come into their midst, just after having spoken such great things of defying the army, i could not but think that he was in the right. next day i too wandered about the streets of the great city, full of curiosity and amaze at what i saw. i had never been within a fortified town, and the frowning walls and gateways struck me with awe and amaze, as did also the great quays and wharfs where vessels larger than any i had ever seen lay at anchor. and nothing would content me but that i must go aboard of one, which i did through the kindness of a sailing-master with whom i got into talk; and i spent two wonderful hours amongst the shipping, both hearing tell of the wonders of the deep, and learning something of the desire amongst seafaring men for a better king upon the throne, and the hope that the duke of monmouth would "come into his own." i asked whether, if there were to be fighting around bristol, there were any ships that would help the cause of the duke by firing upon, or in any way injuring, the soldiers; but he did not seem to think that there were any vessels in the harbour that could be trusted to do any good that way. there had been a close watch kept on all vessels coming into the river, and some had been sent to the right-about, and not suffered to make the harbour. towards sundown i retraced my way towards the hostelry where we were lodging, when i was suddenly brought up short by a most unwelcome sight. i was aware that a pair of dark sinister eyes were steadily regarding me; and looking to see whose they might be, i encountered the malevolent gaze of the rev. mr. blewer, whom i believed to be far away in taunton. i can scarce say why it was that this gaze troubled me so, but i felt a sensation as though some person had walked over my grave (as the saying is); and i was not made any more comfortable by seeing that mr. blewer immediately beckoned to a sentry who was standing near and pointed me out to him, though what words he spoke i could not hear. i found myself trembling all over as i walked onwards, and i railed at myself for proving nothing but a coward. i was relieved when i got in to find the viscount there before me, to whom i told what i had seen. but he only smiled, and said,-- "i am well pleased that that pestilent fellow is far away from taunton and from mary. i doubt if he would gain speech of her now were he never so near; but i would sooner he were anywhere else than there." "but can he do hurt to me or to you, my lord?" i asked, rather anxiously; and was answered by a smile of amusement. "it is like enough he might if he set himself to it; but we shall not be here much longer. i have found out all i came to discover; and if it be true, as men say, that the duke will be at pensford to-night with his whole army, we will join him early and give him the intelligence he seeks. thou hadst best go to thy bed early, dicon, for this may be the last night for many that thou wilt have a bed to sleep in. are our horses in fettle for the road to-morrow? we must be astir right early, and leave the city with the dawn." "the horses are as well as ever they were, my lord; they have been shod afresh, and well fared and cared for. they will carry us another fifty miles to-morrow if needs be." "nay, it will be but a short way we need take them; but perchance they, like ourselves, will fare only badly for a while. time will show--time will show. get thee to bed now, dicon, and be ready for the start to-morrow." i went to bed, little dreaming of any further adventure that night; and i suppose i had slept for some hours, when i was awakened by such a tumult in the street below as made me spring up in a sudden fright, and i heard men shouting out in every key and tone,-- "the duke! the duke! he has come! he has come! god be praised! our deliverer is here!" although there was no moon in the sky, in which the rain-clouds still hung heavily, albeit it was not raining that night, my room was almost as light as day with a red glare that spoke of fire. i was up and into my clothes faster than i can write all this down, and i dashed across to my lord's room, to find it already empty--he having been still up and dressed when the first shout was raised, so that he was in the streets before me. down i rushed, all the household being awake and alarmed, and the door standing open like half the doors in the town, as i hurried along not knowing whither i went, but only agog for news. the people were all running and shouting, and the great palpitating glare in the sky lighted the whole city, and gave a weird brilliance to the strange scene. all the time the streets were echoing to the cry,-- "the duke! the duke! to arms, citizens, to arms! the duke has come! down with tyranny and popery! down with the usurper! a monmouth! a monmouth for the people!" "where is he? what has happened? where is the duke?" i asked, first of one and then of another. at first none heeded me, but others taking up the question, we began to get answers bit by bit. "he is here! he is coming! that is the beacon light to bring him! perchance he is beneath the walls! he may be entering the city even now! hark! is not that the sound of arms? he is coming! he is coming! heaven be praised, our deliverer is at hand!" the people seemed to have gone well-nigh mad. i never saw such a sight in my life as the streets of this city with all the men and women swarming out, shouting, weeping, crying, praying, and the great red cloud swaying over us in the black sky, and at last the steady tramp of mailed troopers swinging along down the wide thoroughfare. "the soldiers! the soldiers! pray heaven it be the duke's men!" shrieked the women. but the next moment the cry went up, "the king's troops! the king's troops! have a care, citizens! hist! hist!" they came swinging along with their great pikes menacingly pointed at the crowds, which dispersed and fled before them; whilst at intervals a halt was called, and a voice from their midst rang out in a threatening word of warning,-- "to your beds, citizens; to your homes and your beds. the duke of beaufort makes it known through all the city, that if there be any rising this night for the rebel duke of monmouth, he will fire the town about your ears in a hundred places at once. take your choice, men of bristol, take your choice. either disperse in quiet to your homes, or see yourselves, your houses, and your children burned before your eyes!" a horrified silence fell upon the people as these words were heard; and only one woman dared to raise her voice to ask, "but where is the duke of monmouth?" "ten miles away if a step, woman, and with a swollen river without bridge 'twixt him and bristol.--to your homes and your beds, good people, if you wish to save yourselves and your city to-night." away swung the soldiers, to give their dread message in other places; and away to their homes scuttled the cowed citizens, led by their trembling wives; whilst news came that there were twenty companies of foot drawn up in redcliffe mead, ready at a moment's notice to march through the streets and fire the rebellious city if it should prove troublesome. another report said that the fire was in the river; that a ship there had caught light either by accident or by design; and that had it not been high tide, with plenty of water in the harbour, so that other vessels could sheer off, there might have been a fearful destruction amongst the craft lying there. "some miscreant of the monmouth faction did the damage," said one party of soldiers parading the streets to keep and enforce order. "spies from the rebel camp have been seen prowling about the streets to-day, and along the wharfs. let us but catch them, and their heads will adorn the city gate by the time the day dawns." at these words i shrank into the shadow of a doorway, with my heart thumping against my ribs as though it would burst out of them. i did not doubt for a moment that i was reckoned as one of these spies, and perhaps my lord for another. if mr. blewer had seen him he would not forget it, and would take advantage of any incident to raise a tumult against him. i realized the fact that we stood in no small jeopardy so long as we remained in bristol; and my first thought was to seek the shelter of the hostelry, to get ready our horses, and then strive by what method we could best escape from those environing walls. it was a terrible thing to think of having to pass the sentries if we were under suspicion. but i trusted that my lord, who knew the city and had friends there, would have some plan for escape; and to go home and await him there seemed the best and wisest course to pursue. i wished the streets had been a little more full now--that the citizens had not been so easily cowed and scared back to their homes; then i should have had a better chance of slipping through the crowd and making my way unseen. still, as it was, one of the sides of the street was in deep shadow, and i was flitting warily along in it, when suddenly i heard a sound in front like that of shouting and pursuit. the next moment round the corner, as if with wings to his feet, came my lord the viscount, hatless, and with his doublet half torn off his back, his breath coming in deep gasps, his hair streaming in the wind, looking like a golden cloud where the red firelight touched it. the moment i saw that sight, before the pursuers had rounded the corner, i sprang out upon him, as one who joined the hue and cry. i felt as though every muscle in my body had suddenly turned to steel. i seized him by the hand, and darted with him down a narrow entry that i had noted that day in coming up from the river. "my lord, my lord! this way, this way!" i gasped in his ear, not knowing whither we were speeding, but perceiving that we were in a labyrinth of small back streets which might baffle pursuit for a time. we fled onwards, although i was certain that i had heard a hoarse cry raised from behind,-- "there goes the other of them! now we shall have them both! after them! they cannot escape! after them, men! ten pounds to the man that brings them, dead or alive!" i do not think my lord heard, his breath was coming in such deep and laboured gasps. he let me turn and double whither i would; and i think that i had the greater skill to baffle pursuit, having a more lively fear in my heart, perhaps, and knowing something of the ways of wild things when running for their lives. but still i could hear cries and shouts following us, and that word of evil omen, "the spies! the spies!" and i wondered whether we should be able to escape them after all, when we suddenly dived down a dark entry, and were brought up short by a house that stood at the end, blocking all egress, and as it were enclosing us in a trap. "heaven help us, we are lost!" i cried in despair, realizing that to return the way we had come would probably throw us into the very arms of our pursuers, who had scattered hither and thither, and could be heard coming nearer and nearer. my lord spoke no word, being indeed past speech, but i saw his hand go to the hilt of his sword, which he still wore, and i knew that he at least would sell his life dearly. but then all of a sudden a door behind us opened cautiously, and a woman looked out. "come in, come in quick!" she said. "this way! along this passage--mind the holes in the floor--and up yon stair. go up and up and up to the top, and out upon the leads. there's an open trap; but ye can shut and bolt it, and give yourselves a few moments' grace. there's a mile of leads up there, and spouts and gutters leading from place to place. i'll keep them here in parley as long as i can. hide yourselves somewhere in the holes or behind the chimney-stacks. men have hidden away there before now and escaped. if ye be from monmouth's army, ye shall not die in bristol town if jenny can save you." "heaven reward you!" i cried, as i darted along the passage and up the stairs, my lord after me; but he paused to ask the woman if she ran no risk herself ere he would go (which shows the difference there is between gentle blood and blood like mine; for i thought only of my own skin, whilst he had thought to spare for her), and i heard her words come clear and mocking,-- "they shan't hurt me--nay, not a bit of it! i'm too well known for that. not a man of them would lay a hand on old jenny; and i'll say i was knocked down by a pair of insolent, swaggering fellows, who have made their way out of yon window at the back. some will go up to the leads for all that, but some will stay below and search the courts behind. i know the ways of them; and if there be but two or three to follow you, slay them one by one as they slip and scramble over the roofs. oh, it is rare sport, it is rare sport! i have seen the likes of it before." the woman's uncouth speech and mocking laugh baffle description. i almost shuddered at her words whilst hurrying up the rotten stairs and pushing open the trap-door at the top. the next minute we were both out in the free air upon the leads, with the fading glow of the fire very near at hand; and we bolted down the trap and made it as firm as we could before we spoke a word. "at least we have a chance of our lives now, dicon," said my lord; "and if we have to lay them down, we will at least sell them as dearly as may be." he drew his sword half out of its sheath, and his eyes glittered in the glow of the fire. i felt a curious thrill run through me as i heard and saw him, and i felt that to-night i was to receive my baptism of blood. chapter xix. _a baptism of blood._ for the moment we were safe, but only for the moment. from what the old woman had said, we knew that our pursuers would soon be after us; and there was another peril of which i had not thought till my lord's voice spoke in my ear,-- "if the woman has played us false, we may be in a trap from which there is no escape. but at least it was certain death to remain there." i felt a cold shudder run through me as i said,-- "i do not think she was tricking us, my lord." and he answered in the same low voice,-- "neither do i; but such things have been before. we must be on our guard. walk warily, dicon. these leaden roofs are treacherous. yet what a labyrinth they form. methinks we can baffle pursuit yet! see, lad! we are not far from the river. it may be we shall make shift to find our way out from the city by water. canst swim, dicon?" "ay, verily; better than i can run." "good; yet thou didst run manfully just now with those hell-hounds after us. dicon, thou knowest that our enemy mr. blewer is in the town?" "ay, my lord." "it was he who set them on at me for a spy. he thought to have rid himself thus easily of a rival and a foe. it may be he will do so even yet; but if i die to-night, i sell my life dear!" he spoke through his shut teeth, and i felt the strange quiver, that was half like fear and half like exultation, run down my spine again. all this while we were rapidly picking our way along the leads and roofs, lighted by the glow of the burning ship upon the river, which i had no time to stay and look at, as i fain would have done; for the question of life and death was paramount with us, and it was no moment for pausing to admire the blood-red river like a flaming mirror, nor the strange fantastic shadows cast by the leaping flames. we were glad of the light for making our own way amongst the leads and chimney-stacks and along narrow parapets, where a false step would have been destruction; but all the while our ears were strained for the sound of hammering and pursuing footsteps, and we knew that as soon as we heard them we must crouch down in some of the many deep niches and hiding-places of that strange region, else would the brilliant light lead to our instant discovery. all the while we moved my lord kept casting his eyes hither and thither, and at last i heard him exclaim,-- "hist, dicon! they are after us. and here is the very place for us. in with thee, boy! there is room for thee, i trow. i will follow and guard the entrance. he shall pay dear who seeks to hale us thence." my lord spoke through his shut teeth, and i was quaking all over as i looked about, yet could see nothing like a hiding-place. but the viscount's eyes had been sharper than mine, and the next moment he pushed me gently but firmly into a narrow, narrow niche between two great chimney-stacks--a long black crevice filled with masonry at the farther end, looking like a mere slit in the wall, and in which, unless i had tried, i would not have believed that i or any other man could stand. but the crevice widened a little after i had pushed myself into it; and it was in the deepest of deep shadow, for the dark chimney-stacks rose high above our heads, and the narrow, narrow aperture by which we had squeezed ourselves in faced away from the river, so that not a single shaft of light crept into our retreat. i drew a gasping breath of relief as i found myself at the far end of the niche, with ample room to turn round and move my arms; and i said to my lord, "surely we are safe now." and he made answer, "unless they know the place, perchance we are; but even so it will go hard to oust us. methinks i could hold the entrance against a score of enemies, and run every one of them through as he approached." and in truth only one man could approach the place at a time, as i saw very well; and it made me think of the story i had read in roman history of the passage of the bridge that was kept by horatius and his two supporters. the viscount was to me as great a hero as any in the pages of history or romance, and well could i picture him holding this place against the onslaught of a hundred foes. but the next minute all thoughts save those of a personal nature were lost in the overwhelming trembling fear which assailed me as i heard the sound of hurried tramping all along the leads, voices calling one to the other, and brutal threats shouted out to the accompaniment of brutal laughter. although the heavy masonry in which i was enclosed hindered me from catching every word, yet i could well follow the drift of what was said, and well did i understand that a long rope and a short shrift was the best we could hope for were we caught. once i heard a soldier in passing say to his comrade,-- "the clergyman promised a liberal reward to whatever man would show him the head of the dainty gentleman. we'll have him and get the reward. i'll run him through with my own sword--i've no pity on a spy." all the place seemed alive with searching soldiers, shouting one to another--sometimes bawling out that they were here or there, sometimes cursing loudly at having been deceived by a shadow. some declared they saw them getting down by a spout, and a rush would be made to this side or that. others vowed they had got away from this block altogether, and would be found elsewhere; and they would fall to cursing this region of house-roofs and chimneys, which it seemed had favoured the escape of fugitives before now, as indeed the old woman had implied. i cowered against the wall, quaking in every limb. i must needs tell the truth, even if i am dubbed coward for it. sometimes the voices were so near that it seemed as though we must be discovered; then again they would move further off, and i began to breathe once more, till some fresh footstep again brought my heart into my mouth. i felt then as if anything would be better than to be trapped like this without hope of escape; but when the footstep had passed by again, i felt thankful for the protection of the friendly niche, which plainly was not known to the soldiers. gradually the sounds of pursuit died away. voices angry and disappointed called one to another that we must have taken to the lower roofs, or that old jenny had been right in saying we had got out by a window, and had not taken to the leads at all. cursing and swearing, the men appeared to draw off, and i was just about to approach nearer to my lord, who had remained all this while close to the entrance of our retreat, his drawn sword in his hand, when i was deterred by the sound of a new footfall coming steadily onwards. this footfall did not pass by our niche, and against the lightness of the sky beyond i saw outlined a tall martial figure, and knew that this last soldier had noticed this chink in the masonry, and was speculating about it as he passed by. "a likely place," i heard him mutter, "but an ugly one to enter alone. where are the rest? have all gone? a pretty search they have made. i will call them back." thump, thump, thump went my heart against my ribs. in spite of its clangour i heard a sound which i knew was just the beginning of a shout that would have the effect of bringing the scattered searchers all rushing back to this place. but one slight hoarse note was all that was uttered. with a quick rush my lord had sprung out, sword in hand. there followed for two or three seconds the sound of clashing blades, another effort at a call, and then the thud of a heavy fall, and a gurgling noise, which i shall never forget to my dying day. in the dead silence which followed i heard my lord speaking in a low voice. "you can come out, dicon; i think all is safe now." i came out trembling and giddy. there upon the leads, run through the heart by a swift sword-thrust from my lord, lay the man who had been a second or two before full of strength and life. his glazing eyes were upturned to the sky; his tall form lay so still that i could not bear to look at it. i had never seen a man killed before, and the horror of the thing was stronger upon me at that moment than the relief of our escape. my lord was binding with his scarf a gash upon his wrist. that sight brought me out of my stupor, and i asked leave to help him, though my hands trembled, and i was clumsy at fastening the knot. i saw my lord look at me with something of a smile upon his pale, resolute face. "warfare is a grim thing, dicon. thou hast scarce the stomach for it yet. but, boy, thou wilt see grimmer things yet, i take it, if thou dost hold to thy purpose of following the duke's army. such things as these are scarce the beginning of horrors. come now, we must not linger here. i reckon we shall be safer to seek old jenny in the house now than to linger longer on these leads, where soldiers may be posted watching and spying. go cautiously, dicon, and keep in the shadow. belike the woman will not be far off." this surmise proved a true one, and before we had retraced our steps we saw the creeping form of old jenny coming towards us. "hist!" she whispered; "ye have done well to hide and outwit them. ye are safer here now than anywhere. how many did ye slay? only one? i would it had been a score! better luck to ye next time! now, follow me, and i'll take ye safe to the water-side, and put ye in a boat that'll land ye further up the river, where ye may find your way to the duke. tell him that all loyal folks in the city will rise for him if he will but bring his army to the walls. who cares if the soldiers do fire the city? fire means plunder! who cares for danger where plunder is to be had? we'll fling the cursed soldiers into the flames they have kindled, to roast there as they deserve; and for us there will be plunder--plunder--plunder!" and the old hag waved her arms wildly over her head, and looked the very embodiment of some fury breathing out curses and threatenings of coming doom. "the duke shall hear all that i have learned," answered my lord, "and he shall know that we owe our lives to you, my good woman. but set not your heart too much upon seeing him here; for bristol with its present garrison will be a hard nut to crack, and the duke has few guns, and fewer men who know how to handle them." the woman had wrapped us each in a heavy cloak, which disguised the cut of our garments, and bidding us follow her, she glided through the house once more and out into the street, where it was now very dark. she passed us, i scarce know how, through a little postern door giving upon the river, where, at the sound of a whistle, a boat quickly appeared out of the darkness, and she held a parley with the man who held the oars. "he will take ye as far as a mile beyond the walls," she said, "and ye will give him a gold piece for his pains. they say the duke is at keynsham, building up the bridge. ye'll find him there right enow." "but our horses, our horses!" i said anxiously, being loath indeed to part from blackbird. and when old jenny learned where the nags and our belongings were to be found, she nodded her head many times, and said at last,-- "if they be at honest job candy's, i'll get them thence directly it is dawn, and bring them to ye by the wood ye'll see on your right when ye leave the boat. never fear, sirs; old jenny never fails to keep her word. farewell to you, and a good voyage. i'll see ye again before many hours have passed." she slipped away into the darkness, ignoring the outstretched hand of my lord, which would have pressed a golden guinea upon her. "don't linger, sir," said the gruff voice of the boatman; and the next moment we were speeding up stream with the last of the flood-tide, the man being anxious to land us at the appointed spot before the strong ebb should make his task a hard one. i had never been on so wondrous wide a river, and looked about me with awe as the boat flitted along in the shadows. the burning ship farther down towards the mouth of the great tidal stream had drawn all traffic away from the upper reaches. ships had weighed anchor and sheered away into the wider reaches, to make sure of escape should the fire spread; whilst small craft had gone to help the burning vessel, and left this part of the river quiet and lonely. the fire was still burning, but not fiercely. the ship looked like a phantom one of glowing flame, reflected double in the sullen water, and illumining the other vessels in the river with a sombre brilliance. i had never seen such a sight in my life before, and could not take my eyes off it. when at last we rounded a bend in the river which hid the fire from view, i saw the first faint tinge of red stealing into the eastern sky, and knew that another day had dawned, and that we were alive to welcome it, as once i had scarce believed we should be. the walls of the city seemed to be slowly sinking behind us. the tide grew slack, and began to turn. our boatman looked over his shoulder and pointed towards a wooded hill not far from the left bank of the river, which was on our right hand as we sat facing him in the stern; and we gathered from his uncouth words that he was about to land us there, and that we were to wait in the wood for jenny and our horses. ten minutes later we stepped ashore, and the viscount gave the man his appointed dole, together with words of thanks and courtesy, which seemed almost thrown away on such a fellow. it was beginning then to get light, and i saw that my lord's face was ashy pale, and that the bandage we had made for his arm was soaked through with blood. it seemed that our rough boatman had noted as much as that, for he gave me a look, and then jerked his thumb in a certain direction; and following the direction of his glance, i saw a little wreath of smoke curling up through the trees, and gathered that we should find some sort of a dwelling-place there. nor was i disappointed, for when my lord had dragged his faltering steps a few furlongs, we came in sight of a thatched cabin belonging to a woman; and when i knocked at the door and asked admittance, saying that we had been forced to fly from bristol by the king's soldiers, and were on our way to the duke's army, we were welcomed with open arms. the wood fire on the hearth was made bright and cheery with faggots from the store; and albeit there was nothing in the house but rye bread and milk, and a little hard cheese, yet the milk, made hot, brought the colour back to my lord's wan cheek; and we soon stanched his wound, which was not deep, and bound it up afresh, so that it hindered him but little in the use of his arm. we were both somewhat spent by our night's peril and fatigue, and i quickly fell asleep by the fire, and slept for several hours without once waking. when i did open my eyes, it was to find the rain pouring down, the fire in the cabin burning cheerily, and my lord sitting at the table with his head resting on his hand, lost in serious reflection. as i started up he smiled at me kindly. his face was still pale, but he was not otherwise changed. "awake, boy," he said, "and ready for a march? old jenny has not failed us; and our horses are in the shed hard by, refreshed by their rest in the city. the good folks here declare the army to be no further than keynsham; and say that the bridge was mended yesterday, and that the duke will be passing over to the gloucester side of the river to-day. we had better join him as soon as may be, if indeed thou wouldest not rather go home than see more of the perils of war." i felt that i had not distinguished myself in my first adventure, and my face burned with shame, although i knew my lord had no thought of mocking me. i stood up and said resolutely,-- "if you are going back, my lord, i go with you." "i have no choice," he answered gravely; "i am pledged to the cause. i have my company to lead into action. but the case is different with thee, dicon; bethink thee well." "i have thought of everything, my lord," i answered. "i go not back unless it be with you." "thou art an obstinate lad, dicon," said my lord, with a smile; "yet i like thee the better for thy stubbornness. then if thy mind is made up, let us forth without loss of time. if we wait for the skies to smile again, we may have long to tarry." we had soon thanked and rewarded and said farewell to our hosts, and were in the saddle once more. travelling was becoming bad by reason of the persistent rain, albeit the land sorely needed it. i wondered how it had fared with our soldiers, and whether the cold and the wet had damped at all their martial ardour. it was but some seven miles, i take it, from where we started to the bridge at keynsham, or cansham as some write it; and long before we reached the spot we knew that the army was nigh at hand, because all the people of the scattered villages were going forth to see, and we saw horsemen scouring the country in search of provisions wherewith to feed the men. sheep and oxen were being driven towards the camp, and though in the main payment was made for what was taken, yet there were some amongst the farmers and peasants whose faces were dark and lowering, and who muttered that a bad king was better than an army on the march. the bridge over the river at keynsham, which the enemy had broken down, had been repaired by captain tyler with skill and despatch; already the duke and his gentlemen had passed over it, and the rest of the army was following when we got up. pressing on after the duke's party, we were not long in coming up with it. then i fell into the rear, and mingled with the men: whilst my lord went straight to his grace, and was welcomed very graciously, as i heard. the news which i brought from the city, despite the favourable feeling of the common people, did not seem to the soldiers to be very encouraging. they shook their heads when they heard of the duke of beaufort's threat, and more than one veteran who had seen something of war in holland, from which country they had come over with the duke, said that in a walled and garrisoned city the towns-folk were helpless as sheep if the soldiers kept true to their leaders; and so far as we had heard, there had been no disaffection amongst the regular troops. it was only the militiamen that deserted to the duke. later on word came that the duke had been very sad on hearing the news brought by my lord the viscount, and had been heard to exclaim,-- "god forbid that i should be accessory to the ruin of my friends, or that for any consideration i should subject so great a city to the double calamity of sword and fire!" and although many amongst us loved him the better for his gracious care of his people, yet the veterans shook their heads, and whispered together that thoughts like these would be the ruin of any cause, and that by no such arguments had the victories of the world been won. still there was talk of an attack upon bristol that very night; and since now they were so near to that city, it was suggested that the troops should fall back upon keynsham, rather as though they were retreating, but still encamping upon this side the river, should wait for nightfall and then march rapidly upon the city and seek to surprise it. now this was right good news to the more warlike portion of the army, who had longed all the while to make a bold stroke. i, too, was rejoiced to hear it, for methought that if the townsmen did but arise as one man and attack the garrison in the rear, whilst we engaged them in front, surely the place must yield; and if our duke were but master of bristol, arms and treasure and stores of all kinds he would have in abundance, as well as a walled city, and a seaport to boot, whence supplies could be brought from his friends in holland, who we were assured were working for him there. having no post or occupation of mine own, i wandered here and there as i would, watching the men take up their quarters as if for the night, and always ready to do any errand for my lord, if he should desire it. his company of horse was posted in the rear, to guard it from attack; and as the evening began to fall wet and murky and cheerless, i chanced to be standing beside him, both of us being mounted, when a scout came rushing breathlessly out of the town, crying lustily,-- "to horse! to horse! the enemy is upon us!" in a moment all was confusion and dismay--all save the demeanour of my lord himself, which was perfectly calm and intrepid. "steady, men, steady!" he kept crying, as his troopers gathered round him; and as they fell into line, inspired and controlled by the calmness of their leader, he asked a few questions of the scout, and was told that two companies of the enemy had come charging into the town, and would be upon us almost at once. and, indeed, whilst we were speaking, there came to our ears the sound of on-coming horse-hoofs, and the next minute the viscount had shouted,-- "stand to your arms, men! be ready! charge!" in a moment his horse sprang forward, and blackbird after him. i had no manner of business in the action, not being armed with anything but a poniard in my belt, and knowing nothing of warfare; but where the viscount's horse went blackbird must needs follow, nor had i then the will to check him. behind us thundered the men, following their gallant young captain as almost all englishmen will follow their leader if he be brave and resolute. they were but country yokels for the most part, who had seen nothing of fighting, and who knew nothing of the tactics of war; but they set their teeth and lowered their weapons, and followed the dashing charge of their leader. what happened next i know not. it seemed as though, with some frightful shock, i was hurled against a solid rock. sparks danced before my eyes. there was a sound of singing in my ears; and then another sound--that of the rattle of musketry. and at that sound i felt blackbird rear up on his hind legs as though he would fall over backwards; but he righted himself, and then, with a swiftness and skill with which i could scarce have credited him, he dashed off through the heaving mass of combatants. how he did it i know not to this day; but with the sound of musket shots and the clash of swords in our ears, he galloped off as though for dear life as hard as hoofs could take him. so bewildered and breathless was i that it was long ere i could check him. i felt all the while like one in a dream, and knew not whether the thing were true or no, nor, if it were, whether i had received some grievous hurt in that first fierce onslaught. but gradually as i succeeded in pulling up my foaming horse, i came to the conclusion that i was sound and whole, and was grievously ashamed at having been thus carried out of the battle by my terrified and refractory steed. but blackbird had never been in such a terrible scene, nor had he ever heard fire-arms save at a distance, and then it was hard to hold him. i could not wonder that he had served me so; yet i was grievously ashamed that i had seen none of the fighting, and had left my lord the viscount in such a fashion. but as i urged the reluctant blackbird back whence he had come, i saw that he was not the only horse who had been seized with a like panic at the rattle of musketry. horses--some with riders and some without--were careering wildly about in extremity of terror, and quite unmanageable; whilst, to my display and terror, i speedily singled out from amongst these the fine charger ridden by my lord, who so soon as he saw his friend and comrade of the past days, came and ranged himself beside blackbird, as though ready for another charge. my heart was full of fear and woe as i saw this, for i knew that bucephalus had no fear of fire, that he had been trained to such scenes, and that to see him thus riderless betokened some hurt to my lord. already it seemed as though the brief tide of battle was turned back. i saw a compact body of horsemen, looking like the enemy, riding fast away. later i discovered that they had taken us for friends at first, and had been riding to join us, when they suddenly found out their mistake, and had been compelled to meet and repel our charge before they could re-form and retreat. had our horses and soldiers been trained, we should have made prisoners of the whole company; as it was, only a few prisoners were made. the rest galloped off in safety; but they left lying on the ground as one dead the gallant young captain who had led the charge against them; and with a cry of fear and horror, i saw my lord stretched out upon the miry earth, looking as still and rigid as the soldier on the leads at dawn that day, who had been struck dead by a blow from my lord's sword. chapter xx. _in suspense._ with a lamentable cry i flung myself from blackbird's back, and knelt beside my lord's prostrate figure; and almost at once there was a crowd about us, and presently i heard a voice speaking in tones of authority, "make way, men, make way! here is the surgeon!" the next moment somebody else was kneeling beside me, and i saw the grave, clever face of mr. oliver, one of the duke's surgeons. "is he dead? is he dead?" i moaned; for i felt all the courage and life taken out of me at sight of that white still face. "killed! not a bit of it, boy. it is but a swoon from loss of blood. here, let me get to him to stanch the bleeding, else he may bleed to death!" and the surgeon's busy hands moved to and fro, whilst the flow of life-blood was quickly checked. but over and above the deep gash in the shoulder from which the crimson stream flowed, the bone of the sword-arm had been shattered by a musket-ball; and mr. oliver, as he drew forth the bullet and proceeded to swathe up the injured limb, shook his head with the remark,-- "this will be the last of your fighting for some time to come, my good sir. the cause will be lost or won without your aid before you can cross saddle or wield weapon again." the viscount heard not a word, being still sunk in deep unconsciousness; but a voice above us said in sorrowful accents,-- "and so i lose another of those very few who know the art of war. soon i shall have not a soldier left!" raising my eyes, i saw our duke looking down upon my lord's white face with eyes full of compassion and regret. "to lose such a soldier in so small an affray! and he one of the very few who had the art to command his men!" said the duke again. and i loved him the more for his words and his look, seeing that he, too, loved my lord right well. "it is greatly to be regretted, sire," answered the surgeon, who was now adjusting the torn doublet, and looking about as though to know what next was to be done with the patient. "lord vere is a heavy loss to us; but he must be well tended and have care and nursing, or it may go hard with him after such a hurt. he has not that iron frame which a soldier needs. he is an instrument something too finely tempered for such rough and ready warfare.--boy," he said, looking straight at me, "art thou his servant? i have seen thee ofttimes beside him. where can we carry him, so that he shall be well tended whilst he lies helpless and sick?" "his father's house would surely be his best asylum," said the duke; but i shook my head doubtfully. "i misdoubt me if my lord would go there. his father has cast him off for joining your majesty. but if i could get him taken back as far as bridgewater, i could there get him all he needs, and he would be well cared for and tended." "he will need that," said the surgeon, with his hand upon the wrist of my lord. "he will probably fall into a fever from his wounds. but, boy, let not any leech take more blood from him on that account. he has lost more already than he can spare. see that further loss is spared him, if thou be with him. a little more, and they would drain the life from him altogether--as has been done before now!" "i will see to it," i answered eagerly, vowing in my heart that nobody should do a thing for my lord that i could do myself. he seemed all at once to have become my charge. my heart swelled with happiness in feeling this, and yet sank at the thought of the many perils and difficulties which lay before me. how was i to get him all those long miles back to bridgewater? and if i could not get him there, how could i tend him and care for him in a strange place, from which all stores had been taken to feed the army, and amidst strangers who would pay little heed to my prayers, and to whom my lord's life would be of no moment? "i pray you, sir, stay with him but a brief time, and i will see where i can take him," i petitioned of the doctor; and he nodded, being in fact still busy over his patient, striving to restore him to consciousness after his long swoon. we had carried him beneath a group of fir trees, where the ground was soft and dry; and his cloak had been rolled up for a pillow beneath his head. leaving him there in good hands, i made my way to the rear of the army, where the baggage-waggons and guns were, and where i was sure i had seen a familiar face not long since--the face of a farmer from the neighbourhood of bridgewater with whom i was acquainted, and who was, as i well knew, a kindly man, and a person of substance and importance. i had seen him in bridgewater, too, and he had told me there that he was bringing six of his men to join the duke, as well as two loads of provisions for the army. he had shown me one of his waggons--and waggons were not then so common as they are becoming now--and he was mighty proud of it. it was laden with provender for man and beast, and was to follow the army till the corn was all gone. it came into my head that if that waggon were to be returning empty now, i might get my lord conveyed as far as bridgewater therein; and once at bridgewater i should be amongst his friends and mine, and could get him tendance and comfort without fear of rebuff. and not to make too long a story of it, i found the farmer, and the empty waggon too; and not only did he enter into my plans for my lord, but he said he would come back himself with us, which was a mighty comfort to me. he had seen enough of fighting--for there had been skirmishes all along the road these past days--to see that he was not made for a soldier. he had been somewhat scurvily treated by some of the officers, and though still loyal to the cause, he was weary of the long wet marches. he wanted to be at home again, to see how matters were going there. his ardour for a personal share in the campaign had considerably dwindled, and the whisper which was going round that it would not be long before the king's army was upon them four thousand strong, in which case a real engagement would become inevitable, added very much to his desire to find himself amongst more peaceable surroundings. so he threw himself with great zeal into my plans for the viscount. together we collected moss in great quantities, and made a deep bed of it on the floor of the waggon; nor were we content till we had piled it up two feet high, so that it made the softest of beds for a wounded man. it was rather damp, to be sure; but the farmer's sacks were spread in great numbers upon the top, and we were both proud of our handiwork before it was done. there was some trouble in getting the two strong horses which had drawn the waggon; for horses were greatly needed by the army, and it was easier to bring them in than to take them away again. but by using the duke's name, and by my making over my lord's charger, which i knew he would not want for many a week to come, and which was of real use in battle, we succeeded at last in getting our horses and yoking them to the waggon. the farmer had kept victuals enough for the journey, and we were resolved to start at once, and take a little-trodden route, so as to avoid the bands of soldiers hanging about the rear of the duke's army, and perhaps by the morning to be clear of them. whilst thus bustling about in the camp, i heard news that i thought augured ill for the success of the duke's arms. since the capture of a few troopers of the enemy, with whom we had engaged not long since, in the engagement which had cost the viscount so dear, it had been decided not to march on bristol to-night. the duke had heard that there was an army of four thousand men close at hand, and he was afraid that he should be attacked before and behind if he pursued his intention, and be discomfited altogether. he spoke now of turning aside to bath, and trying to obtain possession of that place. for my part, i grieved to think that he should not seize upon the more important city, and one which was so well disposed towards him and so full of stores and all things that he needed. but i was no soldier, and moreover i had other matters to think of; and by the time we had reached the viscount once more with our waggon, i had almost ceased to think of the duke or the army, or indeed of anything in the world except my lord. his eyes were half open now, and he gave me a feeble smile as i approached; but his voice was so weak that i was frightened, and had much ado to keep back my tears. i began to wonder whether we should ever get him to bridgewater alive; but both the surgeon and the farmer were inclined to laugh at my fears, and to tell me i should make but a sorry soldier if i were so disconcerted at the sight of a little blood. they both approved the plan of carrying him to bridgewater, out of the immediate tide of battle. as for himself, he was so spent with pain and loss of blood that he could scarce take note of our words, and let us do with him what we would. he had lost much blood in the morning before this second wound laid him low; and i never saw living man look more like death than he did when at last he lay upon the couch we had made for him, wrapped up in his cloak and mine against the sharpness of the night air. the surgeon looked at him thoughtfully. "take him gently, take him gently, and give him frequently to drink of this cordial. get him away out of this harassed country, where nothing can be had save the bare necessaries of life. get him to some quiet place where he can be tended and watched. he should do well then; but he lacks the toughness of fibre which a soldier needs. he is all fire and force, but the body is not seasoned. he has the soul of a soldier, but the frame of a girl." i was rather indignant at the last words, albeit there was some truth in them; for my lord looked almost like some fair young maiden with his white face and golden hair, as he lay with closed eyes upon his couch. it was too much like the marble face of some sculptured monument not to awaken a sense of pain within me; but i fiercely held back my fears, and declared that i would save him yet--for mistress mary. as we journeyed slowly through the summer night--and the night was fair and starlight, though the ground was heavy with the recent rain--i mused much of mistress mary, wondering how matters were going with her, and whether i should be able to see and speak with her when i was as near as bridgewater, and whether perchance i might so contrive that she should have sight and speech of my lord. i rode blackbird close behind the waggon for the most part, and when we halted i strove to give the cordial to my lord, and to get him to take food; but this he could not be persuaded to do, and sometimes seemed so sunk in mists of weakness as to know neither me nor what was happening to him. that long journey, which we accomplished safely in two days and three nights, seems always like a dream to me. we met with no mishap. we saw no soldiers or foes. the country people were kind, and brought us milk for my lord whenever we passed a village or farmstead, and listened with wondering eyes to our tale. i was just absorbed in striving to keep my lord alive till we could get him proper help and tendance. he lay almost like one dead, save when the pain of his wound would rouse him, if the road were more rough and bad than usual. then he would strive to raise himself and ease his pain, and would sometimes speak my name in a tone of gentle fondness when i sought to do aught for his comfort. but the fever was ofttimes upon him too, and he would lie back with his lips moving and his eyes seeing things invisible to us; and at such times he would seem to be in converse with mistress mary or with the duke, or commanding his men in some sudden attack of the enemy. it was often hard to keep him from rising and hurting himself; and night and day i had to watch him, afraid to close my eyes lest he should be wanting something or doing himself a mischief. right glad was i when at last, upon the evening of the second day, the sight of the familiar walls and chimneys of bridgewater rose up before my weary eyes. my lord was lying like one dead in the cart, sunk in a deep unconsciousness, and i verily began to fear that he would die ere ever we could reach the town. i took him straight to my uncle robert's house--the cross keys inn, as it was called--and there we met such a welcome as cheered my heart and took a load of anxiety from my mind. all bridgewater was agog for news of the army, and any follower of the duke's was welcomed with the greatest love and kindliness. there was something in the beauty of my lord that appealed to all hearts at first sight of him; moreover, in bridgewater he was well known and well loved for his own sake, and the people were ready to make an idol of him forthwith when they understood that he had given up everything to join the duke, and that he had met his grievous wound in the good cause. he was carried forthwith to the best bed-chamber in my uncle's house, and before long all the leeches in the town had gathered round him, and i was in the greatest fear lest they should want to use their lancets upon him--for such was the custom for almost every malady--and i had to repeat the words of mr. oliver many times over; but having done so, i saw that they would prevail. the doctors looked at each other and nodded and shook their heads: one said that there might be something in the argument, whilst another said that an army surgeon ought to know what he was talking of. a third, the eldest, remarked that perhaps a sound sleep would be the best thing for the patient, and that he had a potion which would probably induce a long and sweet sleep, and he said he would at least try that before resorting to any other methods. all having agreed to this, the potion was given, and soon the furrows of pain smoothed themselves from my lord's brow, and he sank into a sleep very different from the trance-like condition in which he had lain often for half a day together in the waggon, and which seemed to me like a harbinger of coming life. as soon as this was so i stretched myself on a couch at the foot of the bed and slept also; and i think never was sleep so sound or sweet as mine that saturday night. during the week which i spent in bridgewater many things happened, and i scarce know in what order to tell them, nor which will seem of most moment to the reader. perhaps that which at that time seemed of most moment to me--namely, that i succeeded in getting mistress mary mead to ride out with me one day from taunton, and spend a few hours beside my lord. such a thing might not have been so easy to compass but for the excitement and stir prevailing at this time in both towns. it was a period of intense suspense. we knew not from day to day what news would be brought in. we heard all manner of rumours of which no man knew the origin. sometimes we heard that the duke's army had been cut to pieces and was in full flight; at others, that he had obtained a mighty victory over the king's forces, and was in full march for london, which was ready to receive him with open arms. one flying scout declared that there had been a fight at philip's norton, that at the first experience of real warfare the duke's army had begun to melt, and that thousands had departed to their own homes. another report said that mr. adlam from wiltshire, with a great body of horse, was on his way to effect a junction with the duke; whilst the club-men, ten thousand strong, had gathered somewhere upon pedwell plain, and had sent a message to the duke promising to join him. perhaps some may not know what manner of men these club-men were; and indeed their proffer of assistance came to almost nothing in the end. i have heard that the club-men had their origin in the days of the civil war, when the people, finding themselves robbed and plundered by two rival armies without hope of redress or compensation, resolved to defend themselves from such attacks, and refuse to allow their property to be taken from them by either party. the men thus banded together were armed with clubs, and went by the name of club-men. whether they were ever much of a power i know not, but from my boyhood i had heard them spoken of in the country; and now it was said that they were up and in arms, and ready to join the duke in considerable numbers. another and a very disquieting rumour also reached us during this week, which was that the king had issued a manifesto to those engaged in the service of the duke, to say that if within certain dates they should quit the duke's army and join that of the king, they should be pardoned their rebellion, and be safe from all punishment. this promise, it was said, had had the effect of inducing many to quit the duke's army; and so disheartened had our young uncrowned monarch become (so the voice of rumour said) with these desertions, and the failure of the bristol project, and the slackness of the gentry to join him, that he had seriously spoken of flying with his officers to some neighbouring seaport and taking ship for holland, leaving his army to avail themselves of the king's promise of clemency, and be safe from further harm. you may guess what a ferment was stirred up in men's minds by all these contrary and disquieting rumours. bridgewater and taunton were all in a tumult from morning till night, waiting for fresh news, discussing what had last been brought, and sending messengers to and fro to seek tidings and ask their neighbours what they had heard. it was thus easier than it would have been at any other time to ride unnoticed from place to place. by the time thursday came my lord began to show real traces of amendment. he was as weak as a sick child, and could scarce lift his head from the pillow, and at present he asked nothing of the news of the day, seeming too weak to wish to be disturbed. but the fever had left him, and the good soup and possets which my aunt made for him were bringing back his strength little by little; and so i felt that i might safely leave him for a day, and go to taunton to seek tidings of my relations there, and, if possible, to gain speech of mistress mary and tell her of her lover. all taunton was in a fever of excitement when i arrived; and i heard that news had been brought thither that the duke's army was actually in retreat, that no help had come from wiltshire, that argyll had been defeated in scotland, that the army was deserting fast on all sides, and that the duke, in great depression of spirits, was falling back upon those cities which had welcomed him at first. also a messenger had come in with the notice of the king's promise to deserters from the cause, and a great tumult had been thereby stirred up, none knowing what effect such a manifesto might have upon the soldiers. but what i chiefly noted was the change in the feelings of the taunton citizens. they who had been so forward to welcome him at first were now talking together at street corners, and the words that i heard were such as these:-- "let him not come back hither! let him not return to taunton! we gave him all we had last time. we plundered ourselves to furnish him. we have no more to offer. we shall be undone by a second visitation! let him not come hither again. let us send word whilst there is yet time that we want no second visit!" what a change from the taunton of a fortnight ago! i could scarce believe my ears. well indeed has it been written that there is no confidence to be placed in any child of man! when i reached my uncle's house, i found the tone of his talk quite altered. without openly asserting enmity to the duke, he spoke in a way which made me certain that his heart had turned against him in the hour of adversity. since no capture of bristol had been made, and no rising amongst the gentry had followed the proclamation of the duke's title to the throne, doubt and despondency had fallen upon taunton; and my uncle, ever prone to sail with the wind, was amongst the first to listen with respect to mr. axe's persuasions and the arguments of the mayor and magistrates, and avow himself on the side of law and order. he was sincerely relieved to find that i had been so little with the army, and that i was now at bridgewater in quite a humble capacity as body servant to my lord. he advised me to dissuade my lord from mixing himself up any more in what he now termed a rebellion; and i was able to answer that i thought this would be an impossibility in the future, for my lord was like to be a long while healing of his wounds; whilst, if things did not take a turn, the duke would scarce be here in arms more than a short time longer. but i was very sad to find taunton so changed: for i loved the duke, and still cherished bright dreams of what england would be like living under the righteous sway of such a king. i thought i would go to miss blake's without delay, and give my account of my lord to her and mistress mary. i had scarce put into form my hope that she would come back with me and see him, and yet such was the case; for scarce had she fully comprehended that he lay in bridgewater sick and wounded--wounded in the righteous cause--than she went up to miss blake, who was listening with tears of sympathy in her eyes, and said,-- "prithee, dear madam, take me to him! i must see him, my gallant love, who has gotten this hurt in the good cause which, for love of me, he embraced. ah! dear lady, the days be long and the way is short! dicon will find us horses to take us. prithee, take me there, dear madam, and i will bless thee to the last hour of my life!" i know not what heart could have resisted mistress mary's sweet pleading; certainly not that of miss blake, who was as full of romance and enthusiasm as any girl, and whose loyalty towards the duke had never failed nor faltered through good report or evil report. that is the way, i think, with women. love is with them an instinct, and it is far more faithful and lasting than with men, who reason and think and weigh matters again and again in the balance. it mattered not to them that the cause was beginning to look gloomy, that some even went so far as to say it was lost. they loved and trusted just the same, and believed that right would be done at last; and since the viscount had got his grievous wound in the righteous cause, and mistress mary must needs see him, her good friend rode forth willingly with her that day, and we reached bridgewater before the sun had begun to get low in the sky. as i have said, there was too much astir just then, too much coming and going, and talking and discussing, for the doings of quiet people to excite much comment. we rode forth without meeting any questions, and at bridgewater, where the ladies were not known, no one paid any heed to us. the town was full of excitement because it was said that both the army of the duke and the army of the king were drawing near, and some thought there would be a battle nigh against the town; whilst others averred that only the duke was coming, and that he had already routed his foes. any way, there was so much stir in the streets that none paused to look at us; and soon we alighted at my uncle's inn, whilst my aunt came forth to welcome the strangers, and listened in smiling amaze as i whispered my story in her ear. "nay, but thou hast brought him the best medicine of all, dicon!" she exclaimed at the close; and when she had taken the visitors to the parlour, and had seen mistress mary without her riding-hood, her heart was more than won, and nothing was good enough for her. she bustled about to get the table set, whilst i went to my lord's room, and found him lately wakened from a sweet sleep, and looking more like himself than he had done since he was first laid low. i did not tell him that mistress mary had come; i only told him that i had been to taunton, and that i had seen and spoken with her. even that word brought a flush of colour to the wan cheek--the first i had seen; and as he lay looking at me whilst i told of her, and tried to remember some of her words, the door behind us opened softly, and a light footstep crossed the floor. the next moment i saw such a light leap into my lord's face that i knew in a moment who had come in. "mary--my mary!" he cried, and would have lifted himself but that she came swiftly forward and laid her hand upon him to restrain him. "reginald," she said softly, "you have gotten your wound for my sake. i must needs come to help to heal it." "it is healed already at sight of thee, sweetheart!" he said; and then i rose and stole forth from the chamber, for i felt that it was no longer any place for me. chapter xxi. _back at bridgewater._ "the duke back in the town--here!" cried my lord, and he half rose from his pillows in his excitement; whilst miss blake and mistress mary, who were sitting together near to the pleasant oriel window, started up, and mistress mary exclaimed,-- "sure i thought that i heard the sound of a distant tumult but now. dicon, dicon! art sure of it? what has brought him hither again? not misfortune? say it is not misfortune!" "mistress, i know not the rights of it yet," i answered, breathless with the haste with which i had rushed back with the news. "all i can say is that he is here, and his army is fast following; that all the town is gone out to meet him, and that the streets are full of people all talking and welcoming him. there is no cloud on their faces. they are as glad and as loving as when he entered last. i stayed to ask nothing, but fled back with the news. i saw him riding bravely amidst his officers, and i missed no familiar face. if some of his soldiers have deserted him, i think his captains are stanch." "back at bridgewater!" repeated my lord, who had sunk again upon his pillows, being indeed too feeble to sit up. "that is strange! is it a retreat, or but a piece of strategy? dicon, go forth and ask more, and come and tell us again. where are the wiltshire horse of which we have heard? ask that, good dicon. and how about the march upon london? has that, too, been abandoned? does the duke think his work is done when but a few ungarrisoned towns in the west stand for his cause?" "dear love, be not dismayed," said mistress mary, rising and coming towards him with that light in her eyes which i knew so well. "what does it matter to god whether deliverance is wrought by many or by few? he is the god of battles. he fights ever upon the rightful side. why need our hearts quake or feel fear? all will be well. the lord will arise, and his enemies will be scattered!" i saw a strange smile cross the viscount's face as mistress mary spoke these words in that full, sweet voice of hers that was like music in his ears. he did not answer, but put out his uninjured hand, and she came and laid hers upon it. then they looked into each other's eyes, and i think that all thoughts of the duke or of coming warfare passed out of the minds of both. i have lived to see something of the power of love in human lives, but i think i never saw such beautiful and perfect love as that which existed between my lord and fair mistress mary. from the time, only a day and a half now, since she had first appeared beside him, he had made a wonderful advance on the road to recovery; and miss blake had, of her own accord, offered to stay for a few days at the inn, that mistress mary might help to nurse her lover back to health and strength. just now the whole country was so disturbed that the movements of private individuals were not like to attract notice. lord lonsdale had gone to london, mr. blewer was away none knew whither. there was nobody to note the absence of mistress mary from her accustomed home; and if any asked for her, he would be content on knowing that she was away with miss blake upon a visit. her guardian, the only person who could interfere, was at a safe distance, and there was no schooling going on at such a time of excitement. many parents had removed their daughters in affright at the turn affairs were taking, and at the prominent way in which miss blake and her pupils had come forward on the occasion of the proclamation of the kingship of the duke. so it was easy for both to be absent just now; and it was the best of medicines for my lord to see the sweet face of mistress mary beside him, and to be ministered to by her gentle hands. i was never afraid to leave him now, and just at this exciting time was glad of my liberty. i rushed forthwith into the streets again, and soon found my way to the soldiers' quarters, where they were being bountifully done to by the loyal towns-folk. there was nothing of dismay or fear in their aspect, and they told us of a gallant victory they had won at philip's norton over the enemy. i never had a very clear idea of what that battle was like, for some said one thing and some another; but it was plain our army had discomfited that of the false king, and that after some sharp fighting, and a good deal of cannonading which had made great noise but done little hurt, the rival army had drawn off in retreat, leaving our bold fellows masters of the field. why they had not then marched forward instead of retreating backward is a matter i have never fully understood. i think the men themselves did not know. some said that they had not enough horse to cross salisbury plain, since mr. adlam had not brought his promised troop; and others, that the duke was still thinking of a retrograde move upon bristol. but however that may have been, the men were very bold of aspect and full of martial ardour. they admitted that there had been a good many desertions after the fight at philip's norton. numbers of poor yokels, who had never seen war before, and had been scared by the guns and disheartened by the hardships of the wet marches and lack of food, had deserted to their homes upon finding themselves so near. but the stouter-hearted fellows who remained laughed at the poor spirit of these comrades, and vowed themselves better off without them. mistress mary, when she heard, looked at her lover with one of her radiant glances, and said,-- "is it not like that sifting of gideon's little band? all who were faint-hearted were to go to their own homes. in a holy cause we want none but those whose hearts are set upon the noble end, and who know not a thought of faltering and fear. oh, i am glad there has been such a sifting! i think that god will never work with unworthy instruments. dear love, how i would that thou couldst go forth with them again! yet i will not even repine at that, since thy hurt was gotten in a righteous cause, and i have the sweet task of ministering to thee." such sweet words and looks went far to reconcile my lord to the fret and weariness of sickness. i think he scarce felt the pain of his wounds when mistress mary was by; and if his nights were sometimes restless and full of feverish visions of disquiet (for my lord always felt that ill would come of this thing), by day his lady's presence would chase these visions away, and give him that rest of body and mind which his state so greatly needed. the next day, saturday, completed the week which we had spent at bridgewater, and certainly a great change for the better had taken place in my lord's condition. he was so much stronger that i sometimes thought he would ask speech of some of his brothers in arms, now in the town once more; but he never did. and it may be that this thing was the saving of him in the days which quickly followed, for i do not think his presence in the town was ever really known. men had so much to think of in those days that faces and names slipped out of their minds, and there was such coming and going that none could rightly say who was here and who was not. we had not thought to keep my lord's presence a secret, yet i verily believe the thing remained hidden from knowledge. he lay in a large chamber well out of the way of the noise of the inn, and mistress mary took the charge of him, with miss blake to help her, and in all the excitement and stir in the place that quiet upper chamber and its occupant were well-nigh forgotten. saturday was a day of rejoicing to the town. it was said that help was at hand, though none knew exactly from whence it was coming. a report that eight thousand troops from france had been landed to quell the insurrection in the west was proved to be untrue. messengers had been sent out from the duke in various directions, and the people believed that great things would come of it. the march upon london was still eagerly spoken of, and it was in all men's mouths that news was daily looked for of a rising there; whilst lower whispers declared that there was a plot on foot to stab the usurping king in whitehall, and that colonel danvers had declared he believed it would soon be done, the people being so incensed against him, and that then the duke would only have to march boldly forward to find himself king of all the realm. the temper of the soldiers was so loyal and fervent that all the taunton men were permitted to go home to see their wives that day, on the promise of returning on the morrow; and that promise they faithfully fulfilled. and i trust that taunton felt something ashamed of its panic of a few days since when tidings reached it of the bravery of the duke's army, and the successes it had gained. my lord heard all this with great quietness, and it was mistress mary's eyes that kindled and glowed and flashed as i came in and out with news. not that any plot for assassination found favour in her pure eyes; but she said with grave severity of mien,-- "a man does but reap that which he sows. if ever monarch has sowed evil and cruelty and injustice, it is he who now sits upon england's throne. god is in heaven, judging right; and if he send him a quick retribution in this life, it may be that he will find pardon in the world to come." sunday dawned fair and clear, and we had no thoughts of what a day it would be for us. i had heard that the rev. robert ferguson, of whom mention has been made, who was one of the duke's chiefest advisers and the chaplain to the army, was to preach to the soldiers upon the castle green that morning; and i was very anxious to hear him, albeit i had taken a great dislike to the man from some words dropped anent him by my lord, who made no secret of his distrust of the fellow. he had been hoping to preach at taunton in st. mary magdalene's church two sundays before, had it not been decided to move from that city upon that day. he had even made a raid on mr. harte's house in taunton, where he seldom was to be found, since he lived at his cathedral residence, and left mr. axe in charge there, and had robbed him of a gown in which to enter the pulpit. but the sermon had after all never been preached, and now we were to hear it in bridgewater. i remember little of the discourse save the text, which was received with a murmur of approbation when it was spoken, though afterwards i remember that i thought of it with a certain thrill of dismay,--"the lord god of gods, the lord god of gods, he knoweth, and israel he shall know; if it be in rebellion, or if in transgression against the lord (save us not this day)." mistress mary was with me, and listened to every word, and went back to her lover with a new light in her eyes and colour on her cheek. i fear i looked more at the people than at the preacher, and that his eloquence was lost upon me. but men said that he had preached a fine sermon; and when i heard mistress mary quote pieces of it to my lord, i thought it sounded finer and better and purer than it had come from his lips. i think my lord felt the same, for he presently said with a smile,-- "i think that thou couldst convert me to anything, sweet mary; but i fear the reverend gentleman's remarks would have found but little echo in mine heart. a man must be true to himself and his cause ere he can look for others to trust him; and if treachery was ever written upon any face, it is written on the face of that man." "but he will not betray the cause?" asked mistress mary, breathlessly. "may be not. he has more to hope from the duke than from any other man or any other cause. self-interest may keep him stanch; but such a man as that would sell himself anywhere to the highest bidder. i misdoubt me now that he is not half a spy." leaving mistress mary and my lord to talk these things over together, i strolled into the sunny street, for to-day was bright and fine; and hardly had i gone a few furlongs before i was met by a fellow whose face and name were known to me--one richard godfrey, servant to a gentleman of the neighbouring village of chedzoy. he was hot with the haste with which he had come, and on seeing me he cried out,-- "hi, dicon lad! dost know where the duke of monmouth--the king--is to be seen?" at first i thought him jesting, and answered with a jest; but he quickly made me understand that he really meant what he said. "my master has sent me," he said, "to tell the duke that the king's army has encamped not six miles away on the plain of sedgemoor. we saw them from the church tower this morn, and he sent me to spy out their numbers, and to bring speedy news thereof to the duke here. there be several thousand lying there, close to the village of weston zoyland on penzoy pound--thou knowest the place, dicon. but they be drinking and revelling, and have no thought, as it seems, of attack. bring me to the duke, and let me tell him all. so is my master's will." after hearing this, i lost not a moment in conducting the messenger to the duke's quarters; and, as good fortune would have it, we met him coming forth with several of his officers, all of whom were speaking of a move that day, though whether upon london, or whether into gloucestershire, we humble folks did not know. upon hearing godfrey's message great excitement prevailed, and a rapid move was made towards the church tower, from whence, by the aid of spy-glasses, we could descry the position of the enemy, and see that our messenger had brought us true tidings. now instantly there came into the minds of the duke's counsellors the desire to make a sudden attack by night upon the careless and unsuspecting foe. we could not see whether they had intrenched themselves or no, but godfrey said he would go again and bring us word, and then guide us over the plain of sedgemoor by night; for there were various rhines--as we call the deep water-drains which intersect it--to be crossed, and only those familiar with the district knew the places where these were fordable. meantime the waggons were loaded up, the soldiers were drawn up and fed, and preparations made for a march out so soon as the evening should be come. the soldiers returning from taunton, whither they had gone to see their wives or friends, found that they were to be led into battle that very night, to cut to pieces (as we fondly hoped) the whole army of the earl of feversham! the greatest joy and enthusiasm prevailed. the men who had seen the king's troops draw off from philip's norton, and who had never met any serious check, despite the fact that they had not been led to the walls of bristol, or been called upon for any very great achievement, felt confident of winning a great victory over a sleeping and careless army. when godfrey returned with the news that the enemy was not intrenched, that the greatest carelessness prevailed, that officers and men were drinking themselves drunk, and that lord feversham was at chedzoy with one of his bodies of horse, the men huzzahed aloud, and tossed their caps into the air. visions of easy victory, a routed army, and abundance of plunder rose up before their eyes, and they only clamoured to be led against the foe as fast as they could travel. godfrey was our leader. he advised the duke not to take the direct route to weston zoyland, because the earl had placed bodies of horse to guard that road; and we must also make a circuit to avoid chedzoy, where more dragoons had been posted. our way lay along the eastern causeway, as the lane is called, as far as peasy farm, and then bearing round to the south, we should march straight down upon them, leaving chedzoy on our right. how shall i describe the brave show that our army made marching forth in the bright sunshine of that july evening?--the horsemen with my lord grey (the duke would not divide the cavalry, as some wished him to do, though, had my lord the viscount been there, methinks he would have put one half under his charge); then the foot-soldiers, the blue, the white, the red, the green, the yellow regiments, as well as the independent company from lyme; and behind these the waggons of artillery and the four field-pieces. never had i seen a more gallant sight; and i could no more keep away from following than a bee can tear himself from a flower. blackbird was as eager as i, and as much excited; and i rode ahead beside godfrey, and let him ease himself by resting a hand on blackbird's neck as we went. at first we did not hasten, for we wanted the darkness to fall before we emerged from the shelter of the lanes upon the open moor. and as we wended our way through the gathering dusk, we talked of the great things that would follow this coming victory, and how, when once the king's army had dispersed before us, we should march unimpeded to london to set the crown upon the royal victor's head. the march of a great host is a more tedious matter than one would believe who has not seen it, and darkness had fallen before we reached the moor. this was what we wanted; but the darkness was bewildering too, and the crossing of the two great rhines which lay in our path became more difficult than had been supposed. indeed godfrey lost his way altogether for a time, so that some have said he betrayed us and the cause, and have spoken much ill of him. but i am well assured that such was not so, for i was hard by him all that strange journey, and i am very sure that he did his best to lead us by the right road. the troops, as you may guess, were thrown somewhat into disorder by the passing of these fords; and now believing that the rival army lay before us without intrenchment or defence of any kind, and being hot and eager for the struggle, the men marched very fast, and so increased the disorder in their ranks. after passing the second rhine, we were (according to godfrey) not more than a mile from the enemy; and here the duke halted, and i heard that the cavalry were ordered to advance, followed by the guns, and that the foot were to get into rank and follow to support the horse so soon as the first charge had been made. and how shall i describe that battle, fought in the darkness of a summer night, about which so many stories are told that one's brain reels with the effort of trying to understand and piece together all that is spoken concerning it? perhaps i had better content myself with telling as far as i can remember what i myself saw and heard, though my recollections are indistinct, and so mixed with the tales afterwards heard that sometimes i scarce know what it was i saw in person, and what it was that was afterwards told me. but at least i know that when the horse had started i followed behind them on blackbird, too eager to feel fear, and resolved, should a splendid and victorious charge be made, to be the first to carry back the news of it to the duke, who remained with the infantry. up till now we believed that our approach had been unknown to the carelessly-guarded army; but we knew that it could not remain unknown much longer. the horse were charging straight upon the camp, when suddenly there came a halt, some angry and dismayed exclamations, and the sudden accidental discharge of a pistol. who fired the shot has never been known; it was believed to have been an accident, caused by the dismay which seized the horse on finding that a deep rhine--the old bussex rhine--of which godfrey seemed to know nothing lay between them and the camp on penzoy pound. immediately confusion reigned, but the word was given to skirt along and find a ford. in the darkness and disorder i knew little of what passed; but the whole place was astir--sentries were calling, the rattle of arms was heard, when suddenly i heard a shout which told me that our men were across the rhine. next moment the darkness was lit up by a flash of fire, whilst the terrible roll of musketry rang through the night air. these volleys were repeated again and again; yet it seemed but a few minutes before i was almost carried off my feet by the return of our horsemen, who came galloping back in confusion and dismay. "what has happened?" i cried breathlessly, as blackbird was carried along by the backward rush of the snorting horses, terrified at the flash and smell and noise of fire-arms, so that their riders could not control them even had they desired to lead them again against the foe. then one said one thing and one another; but all agreed that we were betrayed, that the cause was lost, that the enemy was securely intrenched behind a deep fosse, and that those of the horse who had crossed it would never come back alive. at that methinks some spirit not mine own possessed me, for i fell into a kind of fury, and called out to those about me,-- "men, if you be men and not cowards, follow me for the sake of england's honour, and strike one blow for freedom and the duke, if we die for it!" then pulling up blackbird, and making him wheel round sorely against his will, i seized an axe from the belt of one of the men near to me, and galloped furiously back toward the camp, where the battle was raging hotly. i know not how many came with me; some twenty or thirty, i think. i trow i must surely have been mad at that moment; but i cared not what befell me, so that i struck but one blow for the cause i loved. and i think that the fury of my spirit entered into blackbird, for he no longer feared to face the flash of fire nor the rattle of the muskets, and even the boom of the great field-pieces only made him gallop the more willingly. i think it was his instinct that led us to the place where the rhine could be crossed, or else he leaped clean over it. for the next minute i and some score of followers were charging through the enemy's camp, scattering right and left all who opposed us, and for the moment spreading confusion in our train. "king monmouth! king monmouth!" i shouted at the top of my voice, as i waved my axe about my head, feeling that i could slay the veriest giant as though he had been a child; and indeed i did cut down more than one adversary who aimed a blow at me as i swept past. "down with all usurpers! death to all traitors and papists! king monmouth! king monmouth for england!" shouting these words, and charging through the camp like furies, i and my few followers dashed on madly, whilst behind us we heard the tide of battle raging, and knew not how the day would turn. suddenly we were brought to a halt by a shock the like of which i had never felt before. we had flung ourselves in the darkness upon a compact mass of horsemen, drawn up in weston zoyland by the earl of feversham himself (as i heard later), and about to start forth to the relief of those in front. "down with the traitors! no quarter!" i heard shouted, as the awful shock brought blackbird to a standstill, flinging him back on his haunches, and nearly knocking the breath out of my body. i remember setting my teeth and trying to pray; for i was assured that my last hour had now come, and was surprised that i felt no fear, being yet full of the overmastering fury which had first possessed me when i saw the flight of lord grey's horse. but quicker than lightning blackbird had recovered himself; and wheeling round with that dexterous agility of which he was such a master, he was off through the darkness like a flash, whither i knew not. i heard a rattle behind me; there was a whizzing and singing in my ears. the right arm, with which i was still holding my axe, dropped numb to my side, although i felt no pain. a sort of mist came round me. the sound of the battle reached my ears like a continuous hum. i found myself thinking that i was in church, and that the organ was playing; then i remember nothing more for what seemed to me an immense time, and woke to find myself lying in a ditch with blackbird above me, and the clear light of a summer's morning breaking slowly in the east. where was i? what had happened? and what meant all that noise of crying and shouting, groaning and shrieking, which assailed my ears? chapter xxii. _fatal sedgemoor._ was i alive or dead, sleeping or waking? was all this tumult part of a horrid dream? or was i in the midst of unknown and undreamed of horrors? with a sense of strange suffocation i strove to rise, but was unable to do so. i was lying in a dry ditch, and blackbird was on the top of me, not crushing me by his weight, but so placed that i could not do more than lift my head and look about me. day had broken, the long low shafts of light fell across the plain, and i saw, as in a dream, the figures of men in hot pursuit one of another. i saw men smitten down by their fellows, falling sometimes without a groan, sometimes with shrieks of agony. i saw worse things than that too; for even as i lay and watched, scarce knowing who i was nor where i had got, nor what this fearful sight could mean, i saw fierce-faced men with bloody swords striding amongst ghastly heaps of writhing human forms, and dealing awful blows here and there with remorseless fury, sometimes even laughing at the suppliant cries and groans of the wounded wretches, but only driving home more fiercely their gory blades, with a brutal oath or the exclamation, "there goes another traitor!" as i watched with that awful fascination which a scene of horror always inspires, shivering and shuddering lest my own turn should come next, sense and memory returned to me. i remembered the events of the previous night--the strange dark march to sedgemoor, the attack in the dead of night, the rout, the fierce irresponsible onset that i had made, and the roar of battle which had been in my ears when i was smitten down, i knew not when nor how. but now the battle was over. now there was nothing but an awful carnage that was not warfare but a shambles. and i lay and watched it, and tried to pray to god to spare me, or to give me courage to die; and i kept asking in my heart how the battle had gone, though i knew all too well by the sights i saw. for they were not our men who were marching to and fro upon the bloody field, slaying without pity all whom they could find. they wore the dress of the regular army; they had the mien and air of practised soldiers. they challenged one another in the name of the king, and they shouted, "down with all rebels! down with scott's vagabonds!" as they sent poor half-armed, wounded rustics to their last account. i verily believed that blackbird saved my life that day; i will say how anon. as i lay in the ditch, wondering whether he too were dead, and whether i should ever be able to rise and stand on my feet again, or whether i should be despatched by the sword-thrust of one of these bloody men, a groan close at hand told me that i was not alone, and i spoke low, asking who was there. "a wounded soldier," was the answer. "i thought that all were dead here in this ditch save me. art thou from monmouth's following?" "i came to see the battle. i am no soldier, but only a lad untrained to arms. who art thou? and how came the battle to be lost? surely we outnumbered the foe; and we took them unawares in the darkness." "it was those accursed horsemen," groaned my unseen companion, who lay behind me in the ditch. "we always said that my lord grey would ruin any cause. had the horse but stood their ground even without striking a blow, we would have won the battle without them. curse upon those cowards who taught them to flee! a plague upon lord grey and his poltroons!" "what did he do? what did he do?" i asked, in great excitement and indignation. "do? why, fled like a coward after the first charge; and though we of the infantry came up rank after rank and fired for hours, and would have stood firm and won the battle for the duke yet if we had had ammunition, those cursed horsemen charged back into the rear and cried that all was lost; so the waggons made off, and the rear ranks took fright, and all fled helter-skelter as they could. as for us, we stood firm, and fired all our ammunition; and when all was done, and no waggons came up, and we kept calling, 'ammunition, ammunition! for the lord's sake ammunition!' and none was brought us, we had to lay aside our muskets and take our pikes. and when at last the enemy's horse formed and charged, we were broken to pieces, and fled; and they came and cut us down like sheep. a curse upon those horsemen who lost us the battle!" the poor fellow did not speak all this in one breath as i have written it down, but in gasps and disjointed fragments; and i found he had heard a part from other fugitives, who had fled with him, but had become confused, as he was himself in the darkness, and had lost themselves upon the moor, wounded and faint, and had been struck down by the weapons of the pursuing soldiers. "where is the duke?" i asked; and the answer came with another groan,-- "fled--fled with my lord grey, long before we had ceased firing, and when we would have won him the battle yet if the horse had returned and the waggons come up. ah me! ah me! it is not hard to die in a good cause; but it is hard to be deserted by those who should be our leaders and commanders when the battle is still being fought." it was very terrible to lie there and hear all this, and picture that gallant stand of the untrained foot on the edge of the rhine; and to know that whilst they were firing, firing, firing, and throwing death and confusion into the enemy's ranks, they had been deserted by the duke, and left to their fate by the cavalry and the rest of the army. i could well understand that it might not be all the fault of my lord grey, that the untrained horses might soon become unmanageable in the darkness and the tumult, and that a rout was due more to that than to the cowardice of their riders; but still they need not have communicated panic to the rear of the army. they should have encouraged and not discouraged the fellows behind. but what boots it to muse or to speak thus? the battle was lost; the duke was fled; and now what lay before those who had embraced his cause? i was soon to see something of that all too near. steps were heard approaching, and a brutal laugh sounded so close above my head that i shut my eyes and set my teeth, believing verily that my last hour had come. "here is another of them," cried a voice. "a militiaman too--a deserter to the rebels! let us take him to the earl to be hanged, as an example to all loyal folks." "get up, you hound!" cried another voice; and i heard the sound of a blow or kick, followed by a groan from the voice of the man who had talked to me. "i cannot," he said faintly; "i am sore wounded. have mercy, sirs." "mercy for a rebel cur! you and your fellows will soon see what the mercy of the gracious king is like. get up, you hound!" another blow, another groan, and then the first voice said,-- "never mind him; he's not worth the trouble. kill him, and come away." the next moment a sickening sound reached my ears, as a sword was buried in the unhappy man's body, and he expired with a gurgling groan. a cold sweat broke out over me. my head fell back, and my eyes closed. i felt the horse above move slightly, and his head seemed to come down upon mine. for a moment i thought i should be suffocated, and almost cried aloud; but fear held me mute, and almost at once the steps passed on. then i felt another movement of blackbird's, and presently his whole body moved, there was a struggle and a quiver, and he rose and stood upon his feet, looking down at me, and touching my face with his velvet nose, caressing me in his silent fashion, as though he would ask how i fared. i had thought him dead all this while. but he was only exhausted, and i verily believe some instinct of self-preservation and the preservation of his master had kept him perfectly still and quiet all this while; for it was not till the field at this part was deserted of soldiers that he rose to his feet. and when i struggled upon mine i was alone with the dead, and nothing but the reddened earth and heaps of slain to say how the conflict had sped. i felt all my limbs, but found none of them broken. i had a wound on both sides of my arm, where a ball had passed through it; and the effusion of blood must have made me faint, and then have stopped. i bound the wound with a kerchief and slipped it under my sleeve, that i might not look like a wounded man. i washed my face and hands in a ditch, and rearranged my disordered habiliments. my plain leather doublet and gaiters did not tell tales, and blackbird's glossy coat was soon restored to order by a little careful grooming. i had lost my cap; but there were many lying about the field, and i found a plain one suited to my appearance, and put it on, with a shudder as i thought that its owner was probably lying cold in the sleep of death. having done all this, i mounted blackbird, and began to pick my way across the plain in the direction that i saw by the sun must lead me back to bridgewater. i knew that i was liable to be caught and slain at any moment if i met a party of soldiers who suspected me; but i was too dazed with horrors to feel anything but a sort of numb desire to save myself if possible. if i did perish, i did perish. there was certainly nothing else to be done than to try to get back home. as i picked my way across the plain, blackbird snorting and turning aside again and again from heaps of corpses, i suddenly became aware of a strange sight. across the plain in front of me there came at lightning speed a wild young horse galloping madly. a rope was round his neck, and the other end of the rope was tied round the neck of a fine-looking young man, who was stripped of almost all his clothing. and fast as the horse ran, the man kept pace with him step for step; till just as they reached one of the great rhines of which i have spoken, the horse tripped, and fell exhausted, and the man upon him. behind came a number of horsemen, galloping as hard as they could, with much shouting and laughing. curiosity got the better of prudence, and i rode up and asked what was going on. "marry, it is the earl's sport," cried the fellow i had addressed. "yon man was to purchase his life by running with the horse. it was told my lord that he could run with any steed, and he was promised his life if he proved it true. verily it was a brave run. the horse fell before the man. he has earned his ransom well. why are they bringing him back?" for the runner had been taken by two troopers, and, panting and exhausted, was being led back in the direction in which all were now moving. "where take they him now?" i asked, looking with curiosity and awe into the face of a gallant-looking soldier, whose arms and accoutrements and mien pronounced him to be a leader and general. "to the camp at weston, i suppose," answered my informant. "we are about to hang a batch of rebels. thou hadst better come and see the fun, boy. there will be rare times for the country now! first they will have military vengeance from my lord the earl of feversham, him yonder with the stern brow and eagle eyes, and from colonel kirke and his lambs, of whom doubtless thou hast heard; and when these have done their part, the lord chief-justice jeffreys will come down and do his office. and a rare time you good rebel folks will have when he comes. ho! ho! ho!" the laugh which followed made my blood run cold; but i dared not refuse to follow the band, lest i should draw suspicion upon myself. it did not appear that anybody so far had troubled to waste a thought upon me. my youth and my hunched back preserved me from suspicion. the camp at weston zoyland presented a strange and animated appearance. already the news of the defeat and flight of the duke had reached far and wide, and farmers and gentlemen anxious to propitiate the victors had come crowding out with hogsheads of beer and wine and provisions of all sorts for the soldiers, together with loyal expressions of good-will, and every appearance of delight at the termination of the ill-starred rebellion. mirth, revelry, and cruelty were reigning rampant; and there were nigh upon a score of trembling prisoners only waiting the word of the earl to be hanged upon the great oak tree, still known as the bussex oak, and called by the peasants "hangman's oak." "string him up with the rest!" cried lord feversham, pointing to the man who had won his race, and whose life had been promised to him as the reward; and in spite of his pleading and remonstrance he was dragged off to the tree with the rest. a great fellow with a horrid-looking knife came forward from the group of soldiers, and i knew that his office was to dismember the miserable wretches, probably before they were quite dead, that their heads and quarters might be nailed up in high places, a terror and a warning to others. but i could not stay to see it done. a sickening horror possessed me. i turned blackbird's head, and dug my heels into his sides; and unnoticed in the crowd and in the midst of so much revelry and excitement, i galloped off along the near road into bridgewater, which i reached faint and exhausted some time not long after noon on tuesday morning. what a changed place it was from the one i had quitted on the sunday evening! then all had been hope and brightness and enthusiasm; now a look of blank terror was seen stamped upon all faces. the people went about as if afraid each man to look at his neighbour; and in many houses the shutters were shut and the windows all shrouded, because the families had fled from the expected vengeance, and were striving to put the sea between themselves and their remorseless enemies. in the market-place there were still drawn up some bodies of troops, which had fled there with the horsemen on hearing that the duke had taken flight and deserted his army. colonel hucker was there with his troop, and i sometimes think that even then if the duke had but remained, something might yet have been done to retrieve the fortunes of the day. it has been reported of colonel hucker that he betrayed the cause of the duke on sedgemoor, first by firing the pistol which gave the alarm to the foe, and then by flying with his men before defeat had become a fact; but those who thus speak do him an injustice, for he never sought to save himself. it is true that had taunton been fortified he would have been made governor, and he was anxious that this should be done; but his disappointment on that score never made him disloyal to the cause, as was proved by the fact that he sealed it with his blood, when he had ample opportunity to make good his escape had he been so minded. the news which i brought of the hangings and massacres on sedgemoor added to the terror and despair of the people. the bands of soldiers melted away, the poor wretches fearing for their lives, as well they might; and bridgewater was left defenceless to the fury of the avenger. all that day, men were at work all along the road betwixt weston and the city, erecting a row of ghastly gibbets; and before two days had passed, every one of these gibbets bore a horrid burden of human forms--some hung in chains, to remain there for months and years, the last being not removed until the landing of william of orange. i think that when i brought the evil tidings to mistress mary and my lord, i gave her a blow from which she found it hard to recover. i well remember the white face and wild eyes she turned towards me, and the way in which she wrung her slim white hands together, looking first at me and then at my lord, as she cried out,-- "i brought him into this--and the cause is lost! god has not been on our side. and perhaps he will even have to die for it. and the fault is mine! the fault is mine!" then she put her hands before her face, and we saw the tears forcing themselves through her fingers; and my lord rose up on his elbow and said,-- "mary, sweetheart, come hither to me!" she came weeping, and kneeling down beside his bed she prayed,-- "reginald, canst thou forgive me?" "nay, i have nothing to forgive, sweetheart. and, dearest, if the cause be good, it is none the less so for being unfortunate. if i have taken up arms for liberty and right, and god sees not fit to crown those efforts of ours with victory, it is not that the cause is not rightful, nor that he will desert the right, but that his time is not yet, or that he has other means in store by which to work. be not faint-hearted, be not cast down. all this has drawn us but close and closer to one another. i would not have it otherwise; and thou dost know well, sweetheart, that i was never very sure of present victory. i did not enter the cause with blinded eyes; and if i have to lay down my life, as many will, i shall die happy in knowing that thy love has been mine, and that thou wilt be loving me and praying for me to the last." "ah, reginald, talk not so! i cannot bear it, i cannot bear it! thou shalt not die--thou must not die! it will break my heart!" "mistress mary," i cried suddenly, "methinks indeed that my lord shall not die. let him but rest here in secret, none knowing where he is, till he be able to take horse again, and i will convey him to a safe asylum, where he may lie hid until the hue and cry be past." and then i told them of the secret chamber in my aunt's house, and how she had promised to hide my lord there if ever he should need a safe hiding-place from his foes. mistress mary's face lightened and brightened as she listened, and my lord smiled too, and gave me a look which reminded me of the charge he had given me to care for mistress mary likewise should peril threaten her. none knew in the days that must follow who would escape and who would suffer. i might be in no small peril myself, for i had been with the duke's army again and again; and though i think that none knew how i had borne arms in that last battle and had charged so madly into the enemy's ranks, yet i knew not that i might not be accused of other crimes, and have to suffer for my love and loyalty in the cause of the duke. my youth and hunched back had many times saved me from suspicion, but it might well cause me to be known and noticed where others would escape. as i thought of these things i trembled for myself; but in times of common danger it is strange how quickly one forgets the pressure of fear and personal peril. one grows used to it and ceases to think of it; and indeed we had too much to think of in the days which followed, too much of present horror to see, to have thought to spare for possible horrors to come. "colonel kirke is coming! colonel kirke is coming! he and his lambs are on their way!" cried the terrified towns-people on that well-remembered tuesday afternoon, and they all fled to their houses, as though afraid to look upon the face of the conqueror, although they could not but crowd to the windows to see him and his soldiers bringing in waggon-loads of prisoners and miserable wounded wretches, who were to be hanged and quartered at leisure. and i must not here omit to mention the noble and godly labours of our good bishop ken, the bishop of bath and wells, who came amongst us at this time, and himself went amongst the prisoners, the sick, and the wounded, striving to prepare them for their fate, and doing all that man can do both to ease their condition in their prisons, and to win from the stern military tyrant grace and pardon for numbers who would otherwise have perished. nor were his labours in vain, for he gained pardon and freedom for many; and many others were brought to peace and repentance before they met their end, so that they were able to lay down their lives cheerfully and with a good courage. but to return to my story and mistress mary, of whom i must now write. i stood with her at an upper window of the inn to see the soldiers enter, and as evil fate would have it, there amongst them, riding not far behind colonel kirke, was the rev. nicholas blewer; and it so chanced that his evil eyes, roving restlessly about as they were wont to do, glanced upward in passing at our window, and fixed themselves upon the face of mistress mary. she did not see him, and resisted when i would have pulled her back, so that he saw her plainly; and i saw an evil light flash into his eyes, and knew that some plan had instantly formed itself in his cunning brain against my sweet mistress. making a hurried excuse to leave the room, i went straight to my lord and miss blake, who were together in his sick-chamber, the elder lady having altogether refused to see the sight of the enemy's entrance into the town. to them i told what i had seen, and at once both declared that mary must at once leave bridgewater and return to her home in taunton. amidst her own towns-people, where the name of her guardian, lord lonsdale, was known and respected, she would be as safe as any person could be at such a time; but here in bridgewater, with an army fresh from plunder and slaughter close at hand, in a public-house where entrance could be denied to none, and where nobody knew or had any care for her, she was not safe for a day. she must therefore depart instantly, before mr. blewer would believe it possible to accomplish the flight, and never rest till she was safe beneath the roof of miss blake's house, which the citizens of taunton would not permit to be invaded without due and sufficient reason. mr. blewer had no friends in that city. he would not be able to effect there (where he was known and distrusted) what he might be able to in this place. "and, dicon," said my lord, when miss blake had gone to make instant preparation for departure, "come not back to bridgewater; but remain at taunton, watching over mistress mary--" "but, my lord, you need my care and tendance." "i can do without it if needs be, good dicon. i have been thinking i would rather thou wert otherwise occupied than with me since the defeat on sedgemoor has put my head in peril." then as i was about to protest, he silenced me with one of those movements of his hand which i knew so well, and continued, speaking quietly: "go to taunton, and remain there. i am for the present safe; and more than that none can say for himself. i can pay for the tendance thou hast hitherto given me. and thou must be beside mistress mary, to see if any peril threaten her, and convey her away if it do to that cottage where her friend and companion will hide her till the storm be past. wert thou here i should fret myself into a fever thinking her being carried off by yon miscreant; but if thou art close at hand and on the watch, i shall feel that she has a protector." i could say no more. indeed i so loved both my lord and mistress mary that i knew not which stood first in my heart, albeit it was to the service of my lord that i was pledged. but if he dismissed me on any mission, it was but for me to obey; and forthwith i went down to the stables to prepare the horses, and before half an hour had passed we were riding forth together, miss blake and mistress mary wearing their riding-hoods drawn deeply over their faces, and i riding just behind them, as though i were their servant--as indeed i was. all the town had gathered to see the entry of the soldiers--all the people, that is, who dared to leave their houses; people of the poorer sort, to whom a show was a show, be the cause never so evil. the streets were almost deserted as we rode through them, and mistress mary's head was bent low. she was weeping to herself, as i well knew, thinking, doubtless, of her joyful entry into the town a few days before, full of hope for the cause, and happy in thinking of seeing my lord again, even though he lay sorely wounded. now she had bidden him adieu. she was parted from him, and in such a time as this none dared to say when and how they would meet again. he was in sore peril, and she in something of danger herself, though i know not if she guessed it. he might well be arraigned for treason, being found in arms against his sovereign. she was the object of vengeful love of a bad man, who would seek to win her by foul means, and having possession of her and her fortune, proceed to break her heart by his cruelty. in sooth, i scarce knew whose peril was the greater; and right glad was i to reach the shelter of taunton town with my fair charge, having seen and heard nothing of pursuit, and having plainly given the slip to the cunning nicholas left behind in bridgewater. chapter xxiii. _terrible days._ how is it possible for me to make any understand the unspeakable horror of the days that followed? were i even gifted like the great shakespeare himself, methinks i should scarce succeed in drawing a picture of those days and nights of fear, which were prolonged till men became almost dead to a sense of the peril in which they stood, until some fresh panic and new report set all hearts quivering with fresh affright. soldiers were scouring the country. miserable fugitives from the army taken in barns and ditches and cabins were either hung up then and there by the soldiers, or brought before the officers to be judged and condemned by them. and these fared even worse than those butchered by the troopers, for they received the horrible sentence of traitors, and had their hearts torn out before their faces or ever the breath had quite left them, and their members and heads dispersed throughout the country to be exposed to public view. how well do i remember seeing the first consignment of these ghastly trophies passing along the road, and the inn-keepers and such like being forced to nail them up before their doors as a warning and terror to the village. sometimes the air was rendered foul and pestilential for miles by the hanging corpses and horrid trophies. women kept within their doors for weeks together, being so filled with horror at the sight; and the whole country was filled with stories of marvellous hairbreadth escapes, or of captures of innocent persons, who were treated with the same cruelty as those who had been in arms--the soldiers scarce taking the trouble to listen to their protests, and brutally telling them that since so many deserving death had escaped, they must needs die in their stead. what fearful days to fall upon england, who had called herself a free country, and whose people had always believed that the innocent were protected from violence by the strong arm of the law! alas! we were soon to find that the most fearful things of all were enacted by those who came in the name of justice and law. i forget exactly what day it was that news reached us that the duke had been captured, and was now on his way to london, where, as all men said, nothing could save him from the wrath of the king. some said that had he not proclaimed himself king he might have had a chance for his life, but that having done this he had nothing to hope, and would end his life upon the scaffold. yet there were numbers of people who declared that he had got off safe to holland in disguise, and that he who was on his way to london was not the duke himself, but some follower whose outward aspect was very like, and who had changed clothes with the duke and allowed himself to be taken, that his lord might safely escape and live in retirement for a while, and then appear again in his kingdom and fight more successfully for his crown. this belief was held by hundreds and thousands of people in our western counties for years and years, and i remember how long it was before the expectation of again seeing the duke died out. some maintained to the end of their lives that he still lived, and that he would have come again to save england had not the tyrant monarch been forced to fly, whilst the just william of orange ruled (with and in right of his wife) in his stead. but we in taunton had other things more near and personal to think of than whether or not it was the duke who was taken. the bloody victors were at our very gates, and none in the town knew who would escape when once inquisition for blood was about to be made. was it not in taunton that the duke had been proclaimed king? was it not in taunton that he had received such royal honours, and such help in money and men? were not many of his leading officers taunton men? and if such signal vengeance had been taken already on the innocent rabble, who had acted ignorantly, how should the citizens of taunton hope to escape? well do i remember that thursday morning when we heard the people in the streets shouting out,-- "colonel kirke is coming! colonel kirke is coming! god have mercy upon us! kirke and his lambs are on their way!" i rushed out into the streets to hear the news, and even as i did so i met a horseman riding into the yard of the inn, as though he came from the army. but i stayed not to ask news of him, for the people were crying out that twenty men were to be hanged in the city that day, and that master john mason was of that number. all the town was in a terror and tumult, for master john mason was a man of most excellent repute, and though he had taken arms in the duke's cause, he had only fought at sedgemoor; and that he of all men should be a victim was a thing not to be borne. at our inn, so near to the open cornhill, all was hurry and confusion; for colonel kirke and his officers were to lodge there, and a banquet was to be prepared for them at the very hour at which the victims were to be slain. the town stood aghast at the horror of the thing, and awful stories were whispered of kirke during his governorship of tangiers. some believed that he had caused miserable jews to be burned alive there; but others said that he had not burned them himself, but had sent them to the inquisition in spain to be burned there--which seemed not much better. his soldiers were called lambs, but whether in derision because of their fierceness, or (as some said) because when in tangiers their banner bore the sign of a lamb, i cannot tell. but at least at the thought of their coming all men's hearts shook with fear, whilst the ladies of the town resolved that they would so petition for the life of master mason that even colonel kirke would not have the heart to slay him. there was one, mistress elizabeth rowe, a beautiful and godly matron, blending the graces of youth with the dignity and softness of maturity, and well known to every resident in taunton. there was also a legend in that city, that a "white woman or woman in white" could always obtain pardon for a condemned criminal; and good mistress elizabeth declared that she would be that woman, and that she would intercede for the life of master mason. on hearing that there was great joy, for it seemed to all as though not even the bloody colonel kirke could resist so much goodness and beauty; and as we toiled at our preparations for the ghastly feast, we spoke in whispers of the appeal to be made, and wondered whether it would succeed. what a terrible day that was! the memory of it is yet as clear before my mind as when it was but a week old. it was afternoon when we heard the sound of martial music, fifes and drums, and the marching of many feet. all taunton rushed to window and balcony to look out, and beheld the dark-faced colonel riding along at the head of his troops. what a difference from the last triumphal entry into taunton, when all the town was decked with boughs and garlands, and every face beamed with joy! now almost all faces were grey with fear and grief. hardly a citizen but trembled for his liberty or life, or for that of some near and dear one. the few voices raised in acclamation as the colonel rode through the streets sounded hollow and faint. the drums and fifes and martial strains of their own men kept the silence from being too ominous. at the three cups all was hurry and confusion. a great banquet was being prepared in the long upper chamber with the balcony which looked up the fore street and towards the cornhill. but we scarce dared look out of the window ourselves, for just outside, a little to the right, where the space was wide and free, soldiers were hastily setting up a scaffold and gibbet. close beside this gibbet had halted a cart filled with groaning and wounded prisoners, amongst whom was good master mason; and a whisper had already run through the crowd that they were to be hanged and dismembered that very day as an accompaniment to the colonel's banquet. i am proud to say that no somersetshire man could be found to do the hideous work of executioner here. the colonel had had to send for the executioner from exeter to do his horrid work. this functionary, whose gigantic frame and scowling face were enough to inspire terror in the hearts of all beholders, was already preparing for his bloody task. he had a great axe and two or three sharp long butcher's knives laid out before him, and he was calling to the people to bring faggots and billets for the making of a great fire. we knew not for what the fire was intended, but we were to know all too soon. sounds of revelry and mirth soon arose from the upper chamber where the colonel and his officers were feasting. little recked those fierce men of the horror and terror and agony that reigned in taunton. they had come to punish rebellion, and to strike terror into the hearts of all who had been concerned in this thing; and taunton above all places had been most deeply implicated. how shall i speak of the horrors of that day? when the carouse was at its height, the colonel, inflamed with wine, appeared upon the balcony, and his half-drunk officers with him, and gave the signal to the executioner to commence his task. already a row of twenty gibbets had been erected, and the twenty white and wounded prisoners upon the carts had been set in order beside them. master john mason, whom all taunton knew and loved, was kneeling devoutly, praying for himself and his fellow-sufferers, and heeding nothing of what was passing. some of those near to him followed his words with tears and ejaculations, and most of these were calm and resigned; though some, seeing their dear ones weeping in the crowd, could not keep back their own tears, though all striving to face death bravely. then before our eyes in that upper balcony appeared a white-robed figure, and those of us--there were not many--who were in the secret of the petition held our breath to listen, whilst good mistress elizabeth upon her knees pleaded for the life of the righteous citizen. now i was very near to the balcony, being, in fact, just under it, and the parley lasted so long that i feared respite, even if granted, would come too late; for the halters were about the necks of all the prisoners, and the cart was about to be pushed away from under their feet. suddenly i heard a harsh voice above me saying, "it is granted, madam;" and then in another tone the same voice said, "go you, bushe, and see to it. tell the executioner to cut the fellow down." the next moment one of the younger officers came swaggering half drunk from the inn door, and went up to the executioner and spoke to him. there was a brief parley, and he cut one of the halters through. a man leaped from the cart and dashed away in the crowd, and immediately the rest were swung into the air, and remained hanging betwixt heaven and earth. "give them music to their dancing!" cried the voice of the colonel, as the legs of the dying men twitched and moved in their last agony; and the drums and pipes struck up a jubilant strain, which was continued all through the final scenes of that horrid spectacle. why did i wait and watch? in truth, i was paralyzed by the awful horror of it. one by one the dead or half-dead wretches were cut down, the fierce executioner cleft the senseless trunks asunder by a blow of his axe, and seizing the heart of the victim, tore it from his body and flung it into the fire, exclaiming as he did so, "there goes the heart of a traitor;" and at each repetition of the words the martial music struck up again, as though some jubilant and joyful thing were being done. yet after all good master mason perished with the rest. the lieutenant bushe sent by his colonel to save the prisoner had not the least idea of which one the lady had spoken, and on reaching the gallows had said to the executioner, "cut down that fellow." "which fellow?" had been the question, since twenty were there, and bushe had no idea which it was. master mason, absorbed in his prayers, took no heed of what had been passing in the balcony; but another man had seen the whole, and when the executioner and lieutenant paused in doubt what to do, he looked up and said that he was the man for whom the lady in white had pleaded. so the executioner cut the rope, and he sprang away and vanished in the crowd, as we saw; and in the confusion it was not known till afterwards that good master mason had perished, although his life had been granted to him at the instance of mrs. elizabeth rowe. such things are too often done in the bloody days of war. twenty victims (save one) perished that day, and thirty upon the day following, each time the colonel holding a great feast, and turning off on the second occasion ten victims with each of his three great toasts--one for the king, one for the queen, and one for "the great lord chief-justice jeffreys, who is shortly coming to finish the work that i have just begun." as those words were heard, a shudder and a shiver passed through all who heard them, and a groan went up that was not altogether a groan of compassion for the last of the batch of victims who were being butchered in cold blood almost in sight of the revellers. we all knew what terrible days would follow the appearance of the lord chief-justice amongst us. we had heard enough of his ferocity and brutality before now; what would it be like when we were forced to drink to the dregs the cup of his wrath? acts of singular ferocity and brutality were daily perpetrated under our very eyes. one man was hanged whilst in a dying state, unable to move hand or foot, scarce living when he was swung into space. another was hanged three times, and three times cut down to ask if he repented of his crime; but he boldly answered that were he to have his life given him to live again, he would do just the same. he was at last hanged in chains, and left upon the gallows, like several more, till the coming of william of orange. but amongst all these tales of brutality and horror, i must not omit to mention one incident which reflects credit if not honour upon the cruel and bloodthirsty colonel kirke; and this thing i was witness of with mine own eyes, so i can testify the truth of it right well. in spite of all the horrors of that time, business went on at mine uncle's house as before; and it so chanced that whilst the colonel was in the town, and his soldiers more or less ravaging the whole country side, an order arrived from bishop's hull (the home of mistress mary bridges) to send thither a hogshead of beer without loss of time. now with the colonel and his officers quartered in our house, we were not a little pressed in those days; and my uncle not knowing how to get this hogshead sent, i asked if i might not take the cart and drive it over. i had two reasons for this. one was that i desired if possible to get speech with young mistress mary about mistress mary mead; another was that i sometimes felt as though i should go mad with the fear and horror of the sights of taunton town. for day by day and all day long the black-browed executioner, and an assistant whom the townsmen called "tom boilman," were engaged in boiling in pitch the quarters of the victims of the rebellion; and the whole place reeked of the awful brew, and turned me sick with horror every time i passed that way. i felt i must get out into the green fields, if only for a few hours. i had been too busy to be spared all this while; but this errand was in my uncle's service, and i went gladly. it was not a long journey to bishop's hull; but the cart travelled at a slow pace, and i did not hurry the horse. it was a relief to leave the streets of the city and the careworn faces of the inhabitants behind, and to see the smiling meadows and innocent, careless life of bird and beast, unshadowed by the horrors that had fallen upon the land. but one could not forget even here that a reign of terror ruled. bands of soldiers still scoured the country, seeking after fugitives; and in almost every principal house in the country round men were quartered, to keep watch both upon the inhabitants and upon any flying to them for succour. i knew that there had been soldiers living at free quarters at bishop's hull, and doubtless it was for these that the ale was needed. i drove my cart into the great yard of the house, and delivered its contents to the servants there. but being anxious to obtain speech of mistress mary, i did not immediately go away, but tied up the horse to a ring, and entered into talk with the men of the place. sir ralph was away, i heard. he had been summoned to meet the duke of albemarle, it was thought, or lord churchill, and before he left he had arranged for the removal of the soldiers who had lived for some time in his house. but to-day some of these had come back and demanded their old quarters, and some perplexity reigned in the place as to what was to be done with them. there was confusion in the house, and one of the servants to whom i spoke, asking news of mistress mary, answered,-- "methinks she is somewhere in the great hall. go in, lad, and fear not. there be too many coming and going to-day for thy appearance to be noted. go seek her for thyself; i have no time to go with thee." and in truth every servant about the place seemed flying hither and thither. i followed the command given me, and made my way towards the hall of the house, coming upon a scene as strange as any it has been my lot to witness. seated in a high-backed chair beside the great empty hearth, that was in this summer season decked with green boughs and great spikes of foxglove--mistress mary's hand in every inch of it--was the stately lady of the house, surrounded by some frightened-looking maidens, who were gathered together behind her chair, and seemed to be shrinking in terror from something or somebody. as i advanced a few steps further into the hall, i saw that it was half filled by swaggering and tipsy soldiers, who appeared to be clamouring for something which the lady of the house was not willing to grant, and whose scowling and angry looks were the cause of the fright in the faces of the maids. a few paces away from her mother, standing at the other side of the hearth, her slight, strong figure drawn to its full height, her face in a quiver of anger and scorn, was little mistress mary, such a light in her eyes as i had never seen there before, her hands locked together, and her whole figure instinct with suppressed passion. what had passed before i know not. i think the men had been demanding free quarters again, and that the lady had been telling them that they had been withdrawn by their officer, and that they had no right to come again in such a fashion, or to take that tone with her in absence of her husband, the master of the house and a loyal servant to the king. however that may have been, i can answer at least for what happened next; for as i appeared upon the scene, one great tipsy fellow, who seemed to be the foremost of the band, came lurching forward, and offered so great and gross an insult to the stately lady sitting there, that my pen refuses to put it on paper. but mark what followed. almost ere the words had passed the fellow's lips, with a bound like that of a young tiger mistress mary had sprung forward; and ere any man of us knew or guessed what she was about to do, she had seized the fellow's sword from its sheath, and had run it through his heart as he stood, so that he fell dead at her feet without a groan. a deep silence fell upon us all as we saw this deed; and mistress mary, her face as white as death, but with her eyes still flaming fire, faced round upon the rest of the soldiers and said, pointing first to the corpse and then to the door,-- "take him, and go!" mechanically the men obeyed her; but some half-dozen, more sober than the rest, lingered behind and said, firmly but respectfully,-- "mistress, you must answer for this deed before the colonel. you must come with us at once." "i am ready," answered mistress mary, with heroic firmness. "the sooner the better; i fear none of you!" and indeed she spoke no more than the truth. and never have i seen a more dauntless mien than was carried by that brave child as she rode beside her mother into taunton that day, guarded by a band of soldiers, and followed by me in my cart; for i felt i must see the end of this thing, and bear my testimony, if i might be heard, when the tale was told to the fierce colonel. he was, as was usual at that hour of the day, in his room at the three cups; and upon hearing that a prisoner had been brought to be tried by court-martial, he at once summoned his officers to the long banqueting-room and ordered the prisoner before him. when his eyes fell upon the tender maiden, not more than twelve years old, with the dauntless mien and steady eyes, his face changed and even softened as i had never thought that face could do; and he sternly asked his men why they had brought a woman before him, and she scarce more than a child. when he heard that it was a military offence with which she stood charged, he bent upon her a searching look, and commanded that all should be told him. then the men who had brought her told the tale, not indeed extenuating the offence of their dead fellow, but putting the case fairly enough. there was no need for me to speak; there was no need for mistress mary to defend herself. when the colonel heard the words which had been addressed to the dignified matron standing just behind her brave young daughter, and recognized in her the wife of one of the king's loyal supporters, and the mistress of a house where much kindness and hospitality had been shown to his majesty's soldiers, his face took an expression of mingled sternness and approval which it is hard to describe; and he said, looking round upon the men who stood by,-- "where is the sword with which the deed was done?" one of the men had chanced to bring it, and it was handed to the colonel. the stain of blood was yet upon it, although it had been wiped clean from blood-drops. the colonel took it and rose up in his seat. he made a low bow to mistress mary, and handed the sword to her. "mistress mary bridges," he said, "you are acquitted of the crime laid to your charge. the action you performed was not only pardonable; it was legitimate and noble, and does you every honour. would that there were more such women in this land to become the mothers of a soldier race! take this sword, fair maiden, take it and keep it; and let it pass down in times to come to other mary bridges of your name and race. may your house never want such a mary as you have shown yourself, to act with such courage and resolution in the hour of need.--madam, farewell!" (this to lady bridges). "a brave mother makes a braver daughter. guard well your child, and honour her as she deserves to be honoured. a maid who will risk her life for her mother's protection is one to grow up the pride and glory of her house.---mistress mary, i salute you. farewell; i could almost wish that you had been born a boy, that i might have numbered you among my own picked soldiers!" and stooping his dark head the colonel saluted mistress mary on the cheek, and bending low before her, as did also all his officers, saw her pass from the room, holding the sword in her hands. a burst of cheering greeted her as she appeared in the streets clasping the trophy of victory. her face was flushed now, and her eyes sparkling betwixt excitement, triumph, and tears. her mother's face was quivering now that the peril was past as it had never quivered whilst her daughter stood arraigned before the fierce colonel. "dicon, dicon, i cannot face all these people with my sword!" cried mistress mary, a girlish shrinking suddenly possessing her, showing that she was still a maid, though she could act with the courage of a man when need was. "take me to miss blake's! take me to mistress mary; i must see her ere i go back!" lady bridges was willing enough to get out of the cheering crowd, and quickly we found ourselves beneath the shelter of the next roof. mistress mary, hearing the tumult, came down the stairs to see what it meant; and the younger mary, rushing into her arms, and dropping the sword upon the floor, cried out, betwixt laughter and tears,-- "mary, mary, i have done it! i have slain, with mine own hands, one of your duke's foes!" chapter xxiv. _the prisoner of the castle._ i scarce know how many days had passed after these things before there happened that which was to me more terrible than all. the military executions in taunton were over. many soldiers remained, but the people ceased to go in terror of their lives--for the moment. an awful sense of coming judgment hung over us. none knew who would be arrested for complicity in the plot, and haled before the terrible judge who was coming shortly. but for the moment there was a slight lull, and the wheels of life revolved just a little more in their accustomed grooves. sorrow and mourning and fear prevailed in too many homes, however. master hucker was a prisoner awaiting his trial. master simpson had fled none knew whither, and his sister feared him dead. both the gentle brothers hewling had been taken, and were in london for the time being, though it was said that they would be sent down to taunton to be tried. more homes than i can mention here were desolated by the events which i have been striving to record, and i felt almost heart-broken now when i went to my friends the simpsons; for lizzie's face was pale and tearful, and even gay will wiseman, ever of a joyous courage in olden days, looked gloomy and troubled. he had loved his master well, and was faithfully serving him now in his absence, and acting almost like a son to good mistress simpson, the sister. but they lived in daily fear of hearing of his arrest; and sometimes lizzie, weeping with my arm about her--for we were like brother and sister in love--would say,-- "sometimes i think i would almost rejoice to hear that he were dead! it is such a fearful thing to think that he may even now be brought before that terrible judge who is coming, and have to suffer the awful death of traitor. oh, if we only knew him safe--even if it were in the safety of a soldier's death!" for the prisons were filling fast with fugitives and suspected persons, and none knew who might be the next to be haled off, there to linger until the special commission headed by judge jeffreys sat to judge and condemn those who had been concerned in this matter. many judged those happy who had met a soldier's death, or had been hanged by the soldiers in the first onset. to linger in suspense in a dismal dungeon, often laden with irons, and subjected to cruel privations, only to be brought at last before that merciless man in whose hands the issues of life and death were to rest, seemed harder than a short shrift and a long rope at the hands of kirke and his men. i know i often thought (shivering lest i might be recognized and sent to prison) that if that were so with me, i should live to wish i had perished on the fatal field of sedgemoor. but my uncle stood high in favour. no word had been breathed against him. colonel kirke had called him an honest knave, and a credit to his trade; and the snowes had always held a good repute in the town for loyalty and order, wherefore i was let alone. but to return to the point from which i started, how may i tell the grief and terror i was thrown into by a sight i saw during the days of that lull which came betwixt the departure of colonel kirke and the arrival of lord chief-justice jeffreys? i was coming through the streets toward my home, when i perceived a small knot of soldiers, who seemed to be bringing in a prisoner in their midst. now this had become so common a sight that i might not greatly have heeded it, had it not been that i saw mr. blewer riding with the soldiers, his face wearing its most evil smile of malevolent triumph. at that sight i looked again at the party, and as i did so my heart stood still within me. there in the midst of the soldiers, partly held and partly tied upon his horse--for he was almost fainting from sickness and his wounds--was none other than my lord the viscount; and the party were heading straight for the castle, into which they presently disappeared with their captive. i had followed, speechless and like one in a dream; but when the portal closed behind them and i was left standing without, i heard a voice in my ear saying in accents of mock sorrow,-- "alas, good dicon, that one so young and fair and highly born should be a rebel! the best grace the young lord can hope to win from the great lord justice is the axe instead of the halter. his would be a pretty head to set up over the gateway here! alack! what will mistress mary say? methinks she had a maid's passing fancy for the fair face of our young warrior." the speaker was mr. blewer. with a sense of sickening loathing i turned away from the man and rushed homewards, putting the saddle upon blackbird as quickly as i could, and scarce drawing rein till i stood before the house of my uncle robert in bridgewater. i found my aunt in tears, and i had no need to put a question before she burst out with the tale. "dicon, we could not help it. we breathed no word of his being here; and when the soldiers had done their hanging and had gone--at least some of them, and the rest were more for carousing and feasting than anything else--we felt able to breathe once more. but there was an evil-faced man for ever prying about, habited like a clergyman, but with little of the nature that befits that office. he asked so many questions from one or another about a maiden he had seen here, that we could not hide from him that mistress mary mead had been a guest here for a while; but not a word did we breathe of the young lord upstairs--i give you my word we did not!" "i am sure of it, good aunt; i know you had learned to love him right well. none could fail to do so who came into his presence." "indeed thou speakest sooth, dicon," she answered. "i waited on and tended him myself; and never have i seen a gentler and more perfect gentleman, so patient, so grateful, so anxious to avoid giving any trouble--as though we grudged what we did for him--and he paying for all like a prince! i loved him as a son, if i may say it. and yet that evil man, by hook or by crook, and by dint of ceaseless spying and prying, got scent of his being here; and to-day there came a troop of soldiers with an order to search the house for a rebel who was known to be sheltering here in disguise. dicon, when that befell us, what could we do? to have resisted would not have saved the poor young gentleman, but would have brought all the rest of us to the gallows." her tears broke forth afresh, and i could almost have joined with her in weeping, had it not been that my heart so burned within me in hot indignation against the miscreant who had spied and betrayed us. as it was, the tears would not come to my relief, and all i said was,-- "did he come with them?" "ay, he did! they knew not the face of the young lord; and even when the monster had found him, they would scarce have taken him, so weak and ill as he yet was, as white as a lily, and not able to rise. but yon brutal minister--whom i would i could see beneath the hangman's hands!--he swore at them that they were traitors and rebels themselves an they took him not. so he was forced to rise and dress, and was set upon a horse, though no more fit than a new-born babe; and whether they get him to taunton alive the lord only knows! oh may he take a speedy and a bloody vengeance for all the deeds of blood and horror that have been committed in this city in these last days!" but i could not linger to listen even to sentiments so congenial. i had learned what i had come to learn, and now possessing myself of all my lord's property, and of a considerable sum of money which my good aunt was keeping for him--he had contrived to get supplies sent him before i left--i took horse again, blackbird having been well fed and as willing as ever, and was in taunton once again ere set of sun. what to do next i knew not. at home i was resolved i would not breathe a word of this matter. mine uncle was striving to forget all other feelings in the one of loyalty to the powers that be. from him i should get nothing but a warning to have nothing to do with rebels and prisoners. from his own point of view he might be right, but i could not rest so long as my lord lay in durance vile, and with nothing before him but the mercy of a judge who was pledged to show no mercy. yet i was so distracted by sorrow and fear that i could think of nothing alone; and after tossing upon my bed that night in a restless misery, i suddenly came to a resolve. "mistress mary will counsel me!" i cried, sitting up and pressing my hands to my hot brow; and even as i took the resolution to see her so soon as the day should have come, i grew calmer and more hopeful, and was able to snatch a few hours of much-needed sleep before i had to rise to my day's work. miss blake's maidens had some of them come back to her, but there was little of regularity in the hours kept, and many pupils had been altogether removed by cautious parents. i was a welcome guest now whenever i appeared within those doors, and my request to-day to see mistress mary at once soon brought her down to me into the little parlour, her eyes full of anxious questioning. i fear me i broke the evil tidings to her but clumsily, for she went so white that i feared she would swoon away; but recovering herself with all speed, she clasped her hands together and cried,-- "dicon, we must save him, we must save him! it was i who led him into this peril and strait. thou and i together, good dicon, must win his release. dicon, he must be got out of yon castle! he must not stand before that relentless judge! we must save him! we must save him!" "mistress, i will die to save him if i can," i answered; but she gave me one of her own beautiful smiles as she answered,-- "nay, good lad, thou must live to save him. dicon, there is no time to be lost. we must think what can be done!" it was this that i had come for, and greatly was i surprised by the ready wit and shrewdness displayed by mistress mary when we sat down to talk. methinks she must have spent many hours thinking and pondering upon such chances as these, for she seemed to have a plan already in her head, and she quickly set it before me. "dicon, by what thou sayest, i think that they will not dare to cast my dear lord into a dungeon, sick as he is. he is known in taunton, and the soldiers and keepers there are not monsters like colonel kirke's lambs. our towns-folk are humane men, and a soldier is but a man after all though he follow a bloody trade. and then money, dicon, will unlock many a door, and it has pleased providence to make me rich." "i have money, too, laid aside." i answered eagerly, "and every penny of it shall go towards freeing my lord!" again she smiled sweetly, but checked me by her gesture,-- "nay, faithful dicon, thy money will not be wanted for this; but thy shrewdness, thy cleverness, thy good-will, shall serve us instead. thou art under no suspicion, therefore go boldly to the castle and ask leave to bring to my lord such things as he needs. prisoners, as thou knowest, live at their own charges, and thou canst represent thyself as sent by his friends with the things needful for him. then by bribes thou canst win leave to take these things to him thyself. this carnage and slaughter has sickened men's souls within them, and they are readier now to listen to the promptings of mercy than they were awhile back. make friends with him who has charge of my lord; make him see that it will serve his purpose best to let thee come and go at will. doubtless with one weak and ill as my lord, there will be more of mercy and less of strict watch kept than where the prisoner is hale and strong. be it thine, dicon, to do all this; and having thus done, come yet again to me and bring me word, and we will talk of what shall be the next step." i left the house with many a golden guinea of mistress mary's in my pouch, for she would have none even of my lord's money for this; she would do it all herself. and forthwith did i set myself to the task i had before me, rejoicing that i was able to find so good an excuse for my first visit to the castle. for it came into my head (my wits being sharpened by all this) to ask my aunt if she could not spare a pair of good fat capons for the governor there. and this being thought a happy notion by mine uncle, who was, as i knew, all in a fever to keep in the good graces of the authorities, i was quickly laden with a basket containing various good things, and amongst them a bottle of rare good wine, which, however, never found its way to the governor's table. for before i got to the castle i took and hid this bottle about my person; and when i had delivered my message and my load, i began talking first to the porter and then to one and another of the guards who came and went, and who were willing enough to stop and chat about what was going on in the town, and how soon the trials were likely to begin; until at last i came across the man who had the keeping of my lord the viscount, and him i asked to speak aside for a moment. he had a little slip of a place at the end of a long corridor, where he kept watch; and when i produced my bottle of wine, his eyes sparkled, and we were friends at once. he told me of the prisoners he had in his charge, and of lord vere, who had been brought in wounded and sick but the day before. he asked me if i thought his father would send him those things that he needed, as it would go ill with him if he had not some care; and when i (concealing my exultation under a mask of indifference) said i would ask, and also asked if i might see lord vere and learn from him what he chiefly needed, the man made no objection at all, but led me along the passage to a certain door which he opened. i went in with my finger upon my lips, which sign my lord instantly perceived, and spoke not as though he had any special knowledge of me, though most people in the place knew my name by this time. he answered my questions, and told me what he most needed. i asked if his wound were severe, and he answered that it was mending, though the ride yesterday had inflamed it and brought back some of the fever. but he looked less feeble than i had feared; and i took great heart at seeing that he was not in a dungeon, but in a small and fairly commodious chamber. the warder told me that the dungeons were full; and i told him i was sure i could get him money from my lord's friends if he could make shift to keep him there. the man winked at that, and said that so long as he was sick he would not be moved; and i winked back and said he had better keep him sick, and he would get money. next day i was there again with such things as my lord had asked for. i did not seek to go into the room that time, feigning no especial interest in him, but stayed chatting with the warder, and i gave him a broad crown piece as an earnest of more to follow if the prisoner were well looked after. next day i brought some things i professed to have forgotten, and another bottle of wine for the man; and this time he bid me go in to see how well he had cared for the patient, that i might tell the same to his friends. and as he was anxious to finish the wine before his fellow came to relieve guard, he locked me for a short while into the room with my lord; and i spent every moment in eager talk, and in examining the place, that i might know whether there was any hope of getting him safe away out of it when he was strong enough for flight. i soon saw that this little chamber was in the south side of the building, a little to the left of the gateway as you stand facing it, and situated about half-way betwixt that and the round tower at the corner. from the window, which was heavily barred, there was a drop of perhaps forty feet into the enclosure behind the wall which lay all round the castle. but this wall was neither very high nor very closely guarded; and i had a wild hope that it might not prove an insurmountable difficulty if once we were free of the castle itself. a dark night would have to be chosen, and many things would have to be thought of first; but i did not despair either of bribing the jailer to secrecy, or of making him an accomplice in the flight. then let us but once get quit of the castle, and i knew of a safe place of retreat for my lord till all hue and cry should be over. days and even weeks flew by all too fast for us; for my lord recovered but slowly, and until he was sound once more it would be hopeless to think of such a thing as escape. a long ride of twelve miles into ilminster was the first use he must make of his liberty; and if he had not strength to accomplish that, what use to get him out of prison? july had merged itself into august, and august was waning towards september, and men spoke with shuddering dread of the coming great assize, when the fate of all prisoners would be settled, and yet only by very, very slow degrees had my lord struggled back to health; and even now, for lack of air and his wonted exercise, he was wan and white and thin, albeit now able to leave his bed, and walk to and fro for an hour together in his chamber. meantime with the jailer i had become great friends, and he was quite fond of my lord likewise; moreover, he whispered to me that the governor was greatly interested in the young man, that he was very friendly with lord lonsdale (who had been in london all this while, and had not sent a message to his son), and that he was very sure he would be glad, and indulgent to those concerned, if the young nobleman should make good his escape before the bloody work of jeffreys should commence. the warder told me this with bated breath, and a look in his eyes which gave me my cue; so i told him that i knew i could get him twenty guineas forthwith from one who loved the viscount, and twenty more if the thing should succeed, to help me to get him safe out of the castle before the judge should come. at this the man's eyes glistened, and he said that i might count upon him. he would have done it for less, seeing that the young lord was so gentle and kind to all, but for that sum he would take care that nothing miscarried; and i went to mistress mary triumphantly with my news. but i found her less exultant than i was myself when she knew all; and she said with anxious eyes,-- "to get him safe out of the castle is much, good dicon, but it is not all. the city is full of soldiers, and these be not kindly men such as they in the castle. some are colonel kirke's lambs, and others the fierce soldiers of lord feversham. they watch with terrible sharpness those who come and go, and they keep watch by night as well as by day. two riders faring forth at any hour of the night will scarce get clear of taunton streets; and to be caught and taken back to prison will be worse than to wait there for what may betide." i listened aghast to mistress mary, recognizing at once the truth of her words, and feeling my heart sink into my very shoes. all this while i had never thought of aught but getting my lord safe out of the castle; and now, when this seemed to be a thing possible at last, i was confronted by another and perhaps a worse danger. "could he not be hidden away?" i asked. "mr. blewer would find out he was escaped, and raise all taunton after him," answered mistress mary, "and such places as thou or i know, dicon, would first be searched." she was silent then a great while, and i had no heart to speak; but suddenly she raised her head and looked me full in the face with shining eyes. "dicon," she said, "i see how it must be done!" "oh how, fair mistress?" "it must be done, not in the dead of night, but at break of day. he must ride forth with thee when the town is beginning to stir." "mistress mary," i cried aghast, "all the town will know him!" she smiled, and touched my hand with her slim white fingers. "foolish boy!" she said softly; and then after a pause for thought she added, "dicon, wilt do as i say?" "to the death, mistress!" "then at sunrising to-morrow morning be at this door with blackbird and lady jane, and we will forth into the fresh morning air together. then will i tell thee more." "i will not fail you, mistress," i said; and i went home in a great perplexity. with the first grey light of dawn i was before the house with the horses, and mistress mary came forth clad in a long grey riding-dress and a grey cloak and hood. this hood she wore drawn well over her face, as indeed it was the fashion of maidens to go in the streets, with so many bold soldiers swaggering about. we rode quietly down the roads, the soldiers looking at us, and sometimes challenging us; but there being naught about us to excite remark or suspicion, we were suffered to go on our way. we rode some miles almost in silence, and as we were returning mistress mary said, "dost understand, dicon?" "no, mistress, not yet." "come every day at dawn for me so. we ride forth thus day by day till every sentry in taunton knows us. then some morning there shall another rider sally forth with thee in this grey habit and cloak, and this hood well drawn over his brows. he shall ride this steed and on this saddle--though his own good horse shall be waiting at some appointed place. and who will seek to stop you then, or even give a passing glance? say, good dicon, dost thou see light now?" chapter xxv. _just in time._ days fled by apace. mistress mary and i continued our daily morning ride till every sentry and guard within the place must have seen us. often we were stopped and questioned at first, or looked at with suspicion; but by degrees less and less notice was taken of us, and at last we came and went unmolested, and we knew our object was gained. meantime my lord steadily regained his strength, but not so fast as our impatience wished. we were ever in fear lest something should go wrong, lest something should happen to remove our friendly warder from the charge of my lord; and every day as it passed was crowded with anxieties and terrors. these terrors were not lessened by what was happening all around us. every day arrests were made of persons suddenly accused of favouring the rebellion of the duke. the bridewell by tone bridge was crowded to suffocation with helpless, hapless prisoners awaiting the coming of the merciless judge; and one day, to my horror and amaze, i heard from the weeping lizzie simpson that will wiseman had been haled off to prison that very day, she was certain at the instance of that wicked man the rev. nicholas blewer! i might well tremble with fear on hearing that news; for if will's youth did not protect him from the malice of his enemy or the penalty of the law, neither would mine protect me; and the rancour of mr. blewer against me might be, for all i knew, as great as it had always been against will since that unlucky drawing of his. i shook in my shoes as i heard the news, and i said to myself in breathless gasps,-- "suppose they came and took me--before my lord was safe!" already the implacable judge jeffreys had reached winchester, and with shuddering horror and many deep-toned execrations we heard of his vile and inhuman treatment of the noble and innocent old lady lisle. if an aged and honoured matron of high birth and spotless character could be ruthlessly condemned to a fiery death, and a reluctant jury bullied and coerced into passing a verdict against her, what could we of taunton hope? a thrill of terror and horror ran through the whole place, and every face one saw was white and stern and set. i went that very day to take my lord some provisions and other things, and to see if the flight might not be made that very night; and when i had crossed the moat and made my way into the castle, where i was well known by this time, the friendly jailer beckoned me aside into his little narrow room, and whispered some news in my ear. "some prisoners are to be removed to-night from the castle to the other prison," he said. "they must have more space here now that the assize is coming so near, and there be so many to be lodged here. i have orders to remove my lord elsewhere--not to bridewell, but to some underground place here, whence we might never be able to get him out. but i will make shift to bring him forth with the rest of the prisoners who are to be taken away; and then, boy, thou must be ready to hide him somewhere for the night, and get him forth from the town at daybreak. he will not be missed from the castle till i give the alarm on the morrow--and i will take care to do that none too soon--and at the bridewell he is not expected, so there will be no question as to him there. thou must lie in waiting beside the deep recess nigh to the bridge; and when we pass towards the prison, i will see that in the darkness my lord is pushed out of the line and into thy keeping. have the maid's hood and habit to throw over him forthwith; and then get him safe away to some friendly place of shelter till you can ride forth without fear from the town in the early morning light." i listened with all my ears, my heart beating joyfully, for the detail of my lord's flight from the castle had always been full of difficulty even with this man's ready help. my lord was weak, and unable for great efforts, and there were the outer wall and the moat to be crossed; and save by swimming one scarce knew how that last transit was to be made at such an hour of the night as we must choose. we had waited and hoped for some favourable conjunction of circumstances; but none had as yet arisen, and the guards were often changed at the gates, so that overtures of friendship commenced and carried on for a time became so much labour lost when the next change was made. now, however, came this happy chance, only just a short while before the dreaded day of the judge's entrance. how my heart beat as i posted myself in the appointed place that evening after dark! the night favoured us, for it closed in very gloomy and wet, the rain falling softly and steadily from low-hanging clouds that quite obscured any faint light from moon or stars. in my hiding-place it was as dark as pitch; and i crouched against the wall for shelter, straining my ears as the minutes passed by for the sound of approaching tramp of feet, my heart often growing sick within me as i waited and watched, in fear lest some fresh fiat had gone forth and the change of the prisoners' habitation had been given up. in my anxiety to be in time i was much too soon, and the time of waiting seemed well-nigh interminable. i had almost resolved to come forth and wend my way to the castle for news, when i heard in the distance a measured tramp of feet, and drew back once more with a sense of sickening expectation for the procession to pass. nearer and nearer came the tread of many feet. i heard the voices of the guard as they uttered maledictions on the weather and on the dirty and uneven state of parts of the road. i crouched in my hiding-place and held my breath. they were close beside me; they were already passing! oh, had this plan failed? where was my lord? "hist, dicon, be ready!" it seemed as though the whisper was in the air. a second body of men passed me. i could hear, but could see nothing. in a moment i felt a figure slip beside me in the embrasure, and with a great throb of heart i whispered,-- "my lord! my lord!" "it is i, dicon," answered the well-known voice, though the tone was very low, and methought sorrowful. but i said no word, only hasted to get the grey habit and cloak and hood arranged in the darkness; and by the time that was done every sound had died into silence, and nothing but the murmur of the river and the plash of the rain fell upon our listening ears. "come, my lord," i said, and took his hand, and together we glided out of our hiding-place and began retracing our way through the streets. it was late, and the towns-folk were in bed. the prisoners had been moved only after the hour for the city to be asleep. perhaps the governor feared some attempt at rescue, perhaps some moving and heart-rending scene on the part of friends or relatives. at any rate, his orders had been given for a night move; and to this, and to the clever management of our friendly jailer, we owed my lord's escape from those grim walls. he let me lead him whither i would; and i had his place of hiding all arranged. my low knock at a side door was instantly answered; and the next moment the door closed upon us, a ray of light streamed out upon the little group gathered in that place, and my lord passing his hand across his eyes, spoke for the first time in the exclamation,-- "mary! mary!" for it was mistress mary who was standing before him, and miss blake who held the lantern and gazed with eager joy upon the rescued captive. it was to the house of this brave and generous lady that i had brought my lord, and that by her own desire. "it will be safer so," she had said when i told her of the plan. "come to the little side door. none will hear or see you; and then when the morrow comes, and my lord fares forth disguised as mistress mary going for her morning ride, it will be best that he should sally forth from this door. bring him hither then, dicon. let the children see each other once again; for in these perilous times there is no telling, when we once are sundered, when we may meet again." this was almost the first knowledge i had that miss blake looked upon her own position as one of peril. but i read in her eyes then that she did; and yet she was willing to harbour a fugitive beneath her roof, knowing that for such an offence lady lisle had but just been condemned to be burnt alive! i think that weak women are often braver than men. all honour to the lady who opened her doors to us that night! i could not, however, linger. i wished not to arouse suspicion by my movements, and i slipped away and into the inn and up to my room without meeting a soul. my uncle did not trouble much about my comings and goings, and i knew how to go in and out at will, even when the doors were closed. but there was little sleep for me that night. i tossed and turned upon my bed, thinking of every sort of mishap that might occur to hinder my lord's flight; and with the very earliest of the dawn, when there was scarce light to dress myself by, i arose, and was soon in the stable feeding the horses and wondering how i should feel when next i performed that office here, and whether i should ever return to taunton save as a prisoner, to await my trial with the rest. i dare not go much before my usual time to fetch my charge from miss blake's house, else might our unwonted promptitude excite remark. it was a clear, bright september morning, and the sun was beginning to rise in the east when at last i stood before the door and knocked, feeling all the while as though my own heart were knocking at my ribs loud enough to be heard by all the town. the door opened, a veiled and muffled figure came out, and but for the extra height--and mistress mary was taller for a woman than my lord for a man, so that the discrepancy was not so very great--i should never have guessed but that it was my lady herself. in another minute we had commenced our ride through the yet quiet streets, few persons being about save the sentries, who scarce cast a glance upon us as we moved leisurely along; and indeed, now that he was sitting the horse woman fashion, it would take a clever pair of eyes to detect any difference from my companion of every day. and with each turning passed my heart leaped up within me, for safety seemed to be already gained, and once free of taunton-- but there my meditations came to a sudden end, my heart seemed to stop beating till my head felt like to burst, and a mist swam before my eyes; for there half a street ahead of us, but standing still as if for us to come up, was mr. blewer, mounted on a horse, and looking at us with such an ugly leer in his eyes that i felt as though he already knew all, and that we were undone. there was shadow still in the street, and my lord wore the hood drawn right over his face, as mistress mary was wont to wear it. nothing could be seen of his face at such an hour; but what if the cunning foe had divined our plan, and insisted on looking beneath? "my lord, my lord, have a care," i whispered, "or we are undone! mr. blewer is about to address us." that was all i had time to say. already we were approaching the waiting horseman; and he, making a sweeping bow with his hat, and giving one of his most hideous smiles, reined alongside my lord's horse and said,-- "fair mistress mary, i have seen thee pass up and down these streets these many days with thy faithful servant. methought thou wouldst not disdain another escort, and the temptation to join thee was too strong for flesh and blood to resist. say, sweet mistress, hast thou no kind word for me? knowest thou not yet how deep is the devotion of thy poor servant and humble suitor?" there was no answer from the veiled figure, only the head was drawn up with a haughty gesture, so like that of mistress mary when angered that i could have smiled had i dared. i breathed a little more freely. i saw that no suspicion had entered yet the evil mind of this man. he believed that he was addressing mistress mary; and i racked my brains to think of any means whereby this delusion could be kept up, and our most unwelcome attendant dismissed without his suspicions being aroused. giving him a look and a wink, as though i had something to say to him, i drew his attention off for a moment from the one he supposed to be mistress mary. having done so, i dropped behind; and he, after speaking once more to the silent figure beside him, and receiving no answer, looked back at me, and on receiving a nod, fell behind too; whilst the grey-clad figure rode on ahead, as though glad to be rid of us both. may heaven pardon me for my falsehood that day! i have learned, since i have come to think seriously upon such matters, that it is wrong to seek to meet evil by evil, and that to be false in order to outwit the cunning of others, or to stoop to evil practices to secure good ends, is a thing abominable in the eyes of god, albeit there is too much of it mixed up in the things of this world. but i was then only a lad. i felt that i would risk all i possessed in this world and the next for the safety of my lord; and i had not been taught to look with abhorrence upon all crooked ways. wherefore i had rapidly turned over in my mind how best i could deceive the miscreant who rode beside me, and i spoke to him false words without a qualm of conscience. "sir," i said, in a whisper that bespoke good fellowship, "if you really would wed with mistress mary, you would do well to wait three more days till my lord lonsdale be come back to his house. i have heard that he will then summon mistress mary home to him there, thinking taunton no safe place for her when once the inquisition of blood begins. then let her once be there, safe in his care, and i am sure he will welcome any godly man who comes to woo and wed her. mistress mary has said as much herself. i sometimes think her heart is failing her, and that she will soon be willing to save herself from peril by doing her guardian's will, and wedding with the husband he has chosen." mr. blewer's eyes sparkled greedily. sometimes i wonder that he believed me, knowing, as he must certainly have done, of the way in which i had been mixed up with the cause of the duke and with my lord. but then, again, mine uncle had given it out all through the place (although i knew it not at the time) that i had gone forth as a spy, and that my mission was to send him news of the movements of the rebels--and there was enough truth in this to bear out his words; and since he himself had gained a character for trimming his sails to the prevailing winds, it was not altogether unlikely that i, his kinsman, should have caught the trick from him. also a man is always prone to believe that which accords with his desires. wherefore mr. blewer looked eagerly at me, and asked in a yet lower whisper, and with an air of confidence and good-will,-- "then thou thinkest, good dicon, that her heart is already inclining towards me?" "i think it will incline more and more if you, good sir, will hold aloof for a while, and let her feel her loneliness. my lord the viscount, for whom she had a maid's fancy, is in prison, and like to die, as all men say, if not of his wounds, yet by the hand of the executioner; and all those whom she most loves are in prison or in peril. doubtless she will soon feel the need of some strong man's arm to lean upon. only try her not too soon. let her first feel her guardian's displeasure. let him first set before her the peril in which she stands for her handiwork, and meddling in the matter of those banners and colours. afterwards she may incline the more to one who seeks her in her hour of trouble and desertion. but seem to come to her then as a deliverer. trouble her not now, whilst her heart is still proud, and she is still buoyed up with false hopes. let her hear a little more of the work of the judge, which has but now commenced. methinks that will bring her to her senses." "boy, thou dost talk like a philosopher and a student of women. whence dost thou get such wisdom at thy years?" "nay, good sir, it is not wisdom; it is but knowing something of the whimsies of maids from having sisters at home who are as contrary as the winds of heaven. and now, an it please you, sir, i must join my lady; but if you will wait for another day, i think your suit will be the better forwarded." mr. blewer looked first at me and then at the figure in front as though in deliberation; but at last, to my infinite relief, he reined in his horse and said,-- "so be it, dicon; thou mayest be right. and i will make my lady answer for this pride and haughtiness in days to come." so then he turned and rode back whence he had come, whilst i joined my lord; and we soon left taunton behind, and knew that for the present our perils were over. three miles away, at a little obscure farm-house, i had a horse ready for my lord. all that had been settled days ago, none knowing what sudden change might cause us to make our attempt without much warning. i intended, however, to take lady jane the whole way, and to let my lord ride woman fashion into ilminster in the dusk, cloaked and hooded as before; for there were soldiers on the watch in every town, and we should be far less like to draw notice upon ourselves thus than if my lord rode openly into the city, where his face might like enough be known. so we had a very gentle and easy day, stopping long at the lonely farm to rest; and i wondered at his silence and sadness, since our journey had so far been crowned with success. but he smiled when i asked him, and made answer,-- "my sadness is not for myself, good lad; thanks to thy courage and quickness and my mary's devotion, all has gone well with me. but i cannot forget those poor, simple fellow-prisoners of mine, who went with me from the castle but yesterday, and who may so soon be called upon to die a terrible death. they have been so much less guilty than i. they followed like sheep where they were led. in their simple souls was no thought but of victory and an easy triumph for a rightful king. and they must die like sheep; whilst i, who knew better the two sides of the picture, and who rebelled against the reigning sovereign with open eyes--i am to escape all consequences, whilst others suffer the full penalty of the law. i cannot but be sad. i could weep tears of blood. were it not for my mary's sake, methinks i would even now give myself up, and die with the rest." i loved him for his gentle words, but i sought to comfort him too. "it would not help them for you to die, my lord." "no, else would i die for them," he said. the day passed in short journeys and frequent halts, chiefly at places where i knew the people and was sure of a welcome. the last halt we made was but three miles from ilminster; and there we abode till the dusk fell and we could ride into the town under cover of the evening shadows, yet not so late as to attract notice or remark. my lord donned the grey habit once again, and leaving his own horse at the farm till i should fetch it thence, took lady jane and the side saddle, and so rode through the gathering twilight into ilminster. there i was hailed by one or two friends, all anxious for news of relatives and friends in taunton. i showed no haste nor anxiety in holding parley with them; and when one asked me who was my companion, i answered at once that it was a maid on her way to her friends at lyme, and that i had promised her a bed at my aunt's house, whither her friends would fetch her on the morrow. and thus talking and explaining we rode through the streets, till we alighted at my aunt's door. right gladly did she receive me, and right kindly did she greet my companion, whom she took at the first to be a maid, until i whispered a word in her ear, and got a squeeze of the hand in reply. but so long as her servants were about the place, she made as though my lord were in truth a maid, and only when we were alone together in the guest-chamber did she permit herself to welcome him as his own self. the secret chamber was ready, and with some pride and pleasure she took us up, and showed us all the arrangements made for the comfort of the fugitive. "if it be but changing one prison for another, my lord," she said as he would have thanked her, only that she put his words aside, "i will answer for it that you shall lack nothing here; and that so soon as this cruel and wicked judge has gone, and peace settles down once more upon this unhappy land, its doors will open for you, and you will go forth to your friends, whilst i shall have known the honour and pleasure of saving the life of lord lonsdale's son." "madam," said my lord, "words are all too poor as a medium of thanks. but tell me, are you sure that no hurt can fall upon you for this good deed? if peril were to threaten you for this act of charity to me, i would sooner go forth into the street now, and give myself into the hands of the guard to do with me as they would." "hoots, my lord, talk not so wildly!" answered my aunt, giving him a motherly pat on the shoulder. "there is not a soul in this house that knows of this chamber here. not a soul in the town wishes me ill, or would speak a word to trouble me. we will soon contrive, dicon and i, that the household believes the maid who entered my doors leaves again on the morrow. go to bed, laddie, go to bed--that is the only place you are fit for--and leave dicon and me to settle all the rest. he shall bring you a supper before long that will be better than prison fare; and then to rest and get sound and strong is all you will have to think of this many a day." i waited on my lord, and soon saw him betwixt the fine woven sheets of my good aunt's spinning, on a bed so soft that he said it was enough to send him to sleep of itself. indeed after he had partaken of the good cheer prepared for him, he quickly sank to sleep, feeling that at least no prison walls enclosed him, and that if he were not yet a free man, he was on the way to freedom. the terrible days that were threatening taunton would not touch him. my aunt and i sat far up in the night talking in low tones of the fearful things that were everywhere happening. every fresh person one saw in those days had some new story of horror to unfold. ilminster had its tale of citizens languishing in different jails till the judge should pass sentence upon them; and every house had its cause of fear, or at best was saddened by the shadow which had fallen upon others. with the first light of day i was up, and had brought round lady jane, saddled for the maid; and out to me came my aunt, robed in the grey hood and habit--for her figure being tall and spare, none who saw her would know any difference; and the neighbours beginning to open their windows nodded to me and wished me a good journey, whilst they spoke kindly to my companion, whom they took to be a girl in a humble walk in life, and who gave them a low-toned answer of thanks. then we started, i leading the horse by the bridle; and only when clear of the town did my aunt dismount from her unaccustomed perch, take from the bundle she carried her own head-gear and cloak, and, leaving me to dispose of lady jane as i would, made her way back by another route to the town, and was seen in the market as usual making her daily purchases. as for me, i took lady jane to the farm where lord vere's horse was stabled, and then made my way back to ilminster. i remained one more night with my aunt, saw that my lord had all he needed for comfort, and was well pleased with his surroundings; and then taking blackbird on the following morning i rode him back to taunton, leaving the other horses with the farmer till i could reclaim them with safety. i got back to taunton to give the other twenty guineas to the kindly jailer, and to be in time for the terrible pageant which was to take place now within its environs. chapter xxvi. _the terrible judge._ "dicon, my father says he has heard that that terrible man will have up miss blake and the taunton maids who made and presented the colours. heaven alone knows what fearful thing will happen to them then! dicon, let me have speech with mary! she must be got away; she must be hidden till the storm be overpast! i have an hour to spare, whilst my father has business with sir william. dicon, dost thou know that lord jeffreys abides with him in his house here in the town? but he has sent all his women folk to orchard portman. he will not let them meet yon wicked and terrible man. methinks a king who can use such instruments is little fit for his place! dicon," lowering her voice to a whisper, her eyes flashing with a noble indignation as she spoke, "dost thou know what is said?--that if only this monster in human shape slays enough men here in the west to satisfy that bloody tyrant his master, he is to be rewarded with the great seal of the chancellor! truly the people had right on their side when they rebelled against such a tyrant; only they needed one to lead them whose title was above reproach, and who came not under false pretences. surely the day will come when such a champion will arise, and england will free herself from the hateful yoke of an unjust, an illegal, and a cruel tyranny." the speaker was mistress mary bridges, and since her heroic act, of which i have already spoken, she had become an idol of the people of taunton and a companion to her father such as she had never been before. she had ridden in with him that day, and now was all eagerness to see mistress mary mead; but when she returned to the inn-yard after her visit was paid, it was with a grave face and anxious mien. "dicon, i have argued and entreated in vain. she will not fly! she will not leave miss blake to meet the storm alone. her pupils are nearly all of them fled. some few remain in taunton, but many are conveyed away i know not whither. mary says that she had as much to do with those banners as miss blake, and she will not flee and leave her. she says were all to be done again she would do as she has done. she has no fear. she is not afraid even of the wicked jeffreys. she will stay and confront him, and will not let herself be hidden. but, o dicon, though i love her the more for her courage, i fear that ill will come of it!" "what can they do to her?" i asked with a shudder. "they will not kill her?" "oh no, no!" answered mary. "i asked my father just now, and he said that the penalty for such an offence was not like to be more than a heavy fine. even that monster would not dare to condemn a maid to worse than that. but it is the being brought before him, being subjected to his brutal words and looks, his hideous jibes and his inhuman threats. o dicon, the stories of yon man in other places make my blood run cold! to think of mary exposed to his baleful glance. but she knows no fear; she will not let miss blake bear it alone." "it is like her!" i answered, with warm admiration. "and, mistress mary, i will watch over her all i can; and if there be need later, will take her to the cottage in the marsh, where she will be safe." "ay, she will be safe there; and truly after these rains it is few who could find the way thither. dicon, let not lord lonsdale take her to his house. they say he will not return till after the trials. he is in a great fear for his son, but has been told that the viscount is not numbered amongst the prisoners. there has been some error or mistake. he was taken, as many aver; but he has either died of his wounds or else has escaped in the confusion--no man clearly knows which. lord lonsdale went to court to seek to win his pardon from the king should he be brought up for trial and condemned; and he remains there till the judge has gone, having a special messenger here to bring him instant word if his son should be arraigned. but he himself stays where he is till all peril is past. then he will come back, and if i mistake me not, his first act will be to wed mistress mary mead to some man of known loyalty, both as a protection to herself and as a means of keeping her away from his son, should the viscount ever return. dicon, guard her from that an thou canst. i trow that my lord will return one day to claim her, and she must be free to wed him." i promised young mistress mary to use all heed and diligence; and then i watched her ride away with her father, who came to find her, and thought that two such noble marys did not live in all the world as the two who honoured me with their confidence. but all taunton was in a tremble, and within the town there was that state of things best described by the words of the prophet--"lamentation, and mourning, and woe." the great assize hall in the castle was being prepared for the coming tribunal, and i must needs go to see. it is a very fine hall, as all men of taunton know, a hundred and twenty feet long and thirty wide; and when taunton was under the bishop of winchester's ecclesiastical jurisdiction, his court used also to be held here. so that still over the porch were the two keys and the sword, the arms of the bishop of winchester, together with the three bugle horns which were the private coat of bishop horn, who no doubt was a great personage when the place was built or repaired. four cherubs occupy the corners, and within the surrounding garter are the two mottoes, "honi soit qui mal y pense," and "crux et vanitas." over the two strong arches of the inner gateway stood the grand-jury room, soon to be occupied by the trembling jury, who, badgered by the wicked judge, feared to return any verdict save that of guilty, however insufficient the evidence against the unhappy prisoner. we had heard already how the monster had raved and foamed with fury at any other verdict, and had driven the unhappy men away again and again, until he had terrified them into submission. to begin with, the juries were selected by the sheriffs; and since the sheriffs were all loyal king's men, they had chosen men all in favour of the king's policy. but even so, they could not altogether throw to the winds all sense of justice and right; and yet if they dared to give any verdict save that which the merciless judge indicated, they went almost in terror of their own lives. to such a pass had things come under this special commission, instituted by james the second and conducted according to his own heart by his chosen tools! the great assize hall was being hung with crimson cloth in honour of the important occasion. methought the colour something ominous of what was coming; but it was said that lord jeffreys always looked to be received with due honour. i had a great and lively curiosity to see this wicked man, and as i was known to one or more of the custodians of the place, i was promised entrance that afternoon, when his charge to the jury was to be given; though after that, when the trials themselves came on, i must take my chance with the rest of the people. the place would be thronged to suffocation, and if i wished for entrance i must seek it at the doors with the others. i did very much wish to be present, but knew not whether i should achieve my desire. but at least i was there in a fairly good place that afternoon, when i knew that the great and wicked judge had arrived, and that he was to address the jury at once, so that the business of the day could commence upon the morrow. how my heart beat when at last he came, with his brothers of the bench in attendance, who seemed of no account beside that great burly figure with those extraordinary eyes, and that bloated face seamed and lined by passion and drink till it was more like the face of a devil than of a man. although i had heard much of judge jeffreys, never had i pictured such a monster in human shape as i beheld that day, as the western light, level and clear, illumined the great hall and made plain all the persons assembled there. it was as if the devil himself looked out from those eyes; and in the loud rasping tones of the voice, full of fierce invective coupled with brutal taunts and threats, it was impossible to conceive that there spoke the voice of a monarch's servant. oaths of the most blasphemous description fell from his lips, mingled with such ribald jests as made one's blood run cold. what was the nature of the charge i cannot tell, for i seemed to hear nothing but taunts and threats and profane jests all jumbled together in one hideous medley. no wonder the jurymen stood huddled together, as if only longing to be out of reach of those basilisk eyes. no wonder that amongst the crowd assembled to hear those who had relations or friends amongst the prisoners felt their hearts sink within them. that all the men declared the judge to be drunk seemed small consolation. we had heard before this that it was his habit to be more or less drunk whilst performing his duties. possibly in the morning he might be something more sober; but there were those who averred that he was even more to be dreaded sober than drunk. in either case he was a devil incarnate. about that there were no two opinions. and it was passed quickly through the town that the only chance a prisoner had was to plead guilty, and so save the court the trouble of trying him. those who did this were condemned to death in a mass; but many were respited. it was said that the judge had openly declared he would hang every man who dared to plead "not guilty," and that these would be at once hung up, whilst those who pleaded "guilty" would be respited for a time, and possibly escape the final penalty of the law. this was the judge's artifice for shortening his bloody work, and it invariably put him in a tempest of passion when prisoners dared to plead "not guilty." do as i would, i could not get into court upon the first day of the trials; and i ran down to master simpson's house to see how things were going there, and if aught had been heard of master simpson himself. here i found miss hannah hewling mingling her tears with those of lizzie and her aunt; for her brother benjamin was awaiting his trial now at taunton, and the gentle william, only nineteen years old and so full of sweetness and piety, had already been done to death at lyme, in spite of all the favour brought to bear on his behalf. amid her tears miss hannah read to us a letter he had penned to her just before he suffered. "i am going to launch into eternity," he wrote, "and, i hope and trust, into the arms of my blessed redeemer, to whom i commit you and all my dear relations." and as he was going to the place of execution, he repeated to one of his comrades some of the beautiful words contained in the fourteenth chapter of st. john's gospel; and then he added, "here is a sweet promise for us, 'i will not leave you comfortless: i will come to you.' christ will be with us to the last." and to another who bid him farewell he said, "farewell till we meet in heaven. presently i shall be with christ. oh, i would not change conditions with any in this world! i would not stay behind for ten thousand worlds." and to a friend who came to comfort him at the end--not one of the condemned--the friend who had given all these particulars to miss hannah, he said, "pray remember my dear love to my brother and sister, and tell them i desire they would comfort themselves that i am gone to christ; and we shall quickly meet in the glorious mount zion above." and so greatly were the officers who carried out the mandate of the court touched by his piety and sweetness and gentleness that some wept, and others declared that had the chief-justice himself been there he could not have let him die. so though no mandate had been given to that effect, yet the body of the pious youth was given to the people of lyme for christian burial, and was laid in the grave by a number of young maidens of that place, who had heard the story of his faith and resignation, and took this christian office upon themselves. it could not but comfort the sister's heart to hear all this, though her tears fell fast as she told the tale. her heart was sore troubled too for the brother yet living; but her parents in london had sent her large sums of money, and it was hoped that the judge might be bribed into showing mercy, even though he had condemned the prisoner in court. upon the day when master benjamin hewling was to be tried, i was resolved that i would be there, and would find room too for miss hannah and for lizzie as well. money would always do much, and of this there was no lack; and i went beforehand to the keepers of the doors, and got a promise that if i would come very early, and keep very quiet when admitted, they would see that we got smuggled in before the crowd came thronging and surging in. and this in fact was done; and though afterwards we were well-nigh suffocated by the press, still we were placed where we could see and hear. i was the more glad of this because i heard a whisper that this would be the last day, and that the case of the maids of taunton would come before the judge at the close of the more bloody proceedings, and also that of will wiseman, the accusation against whom was only the reading of the declarations of the duke to the populace; his other daring acts seeming not to have become known to mr. blewer, who, we felt certain, was his accuser. how my heart quaked when i saw the judge's terrible countenance beneath its wig of office! the red robes were scarcely more red than the inflamed visage, and the eyes rolled from side to side with a sullen fury that was almost more terrible than the ferocity of their gleam when first i had seen them. the scenes i saw that day will never be effaced from my memory. i would that i had the skill to tell the tale as it should be told, but i can but state a few bald facts. let the reader fill up the outline as he will. let me speak of the trial of mr. simon hamling--or hamlyn, as men indifferently call him. he was a worthy citizen of taunton, who had borne a good repute there for long; but had for the last three years of his life lived some three miles out of the town, and come to and fro on business. when he heard that the duke had come, he went to the town to speak to his son, to advise him to have nothing to do with this matter of the rising; as he expressed it in his defence, "that as he expected his blessing and countenance, he should not at all concern himself in the matter, but submit himself to the will of god in all things;" and having so delivered himself he went home, and was never in the town again whilst the duke was there, save that he came to buy some provision for his house, as was his custom, on the saturday. but he was a dissenter, and the mayor owed him a grudge. when nothing could be proved against him as having been concerned in the rebellion, the judge fell into such a rage as i have never seen in my life before, so that all the court quaked and trembled, and he bawled out, "the rascal is a dissenter! i can smell 'em forty miles!" and forthwith foaming at the mouth he bid the jury find him guilty, which to their shame they did; and sentence of death was accordingly passed upon him. hearing which the mayor, being smitten with shame and remorse, strove to get the sentence reversed; but the lord jeffreys turned upon him with one of his awful oaths, and cried, "you have brought him on; if he be innocent, his blood be upon you!" and immediately called for the next prisoner, which was mr. benjamin hewling. in such a mood as the judge was now in all saw that the poor young gentleman had no chance. many stood forward to try to bear witness to his blameless character, but were yelled down by the judge, who would hear nothing. the prisoner had been in arms in the rebellion, and should die the traitor's death. then enraged by the dauntless and dignified bearing of the young man, his judge stormed and cursed and raged at him, and made the horrid words of the sentence tenfold more horrid by the way he flung it at him, till half the women in the place fell weeping, and miss hannah drooped her head and for a minute quite swooned away. but the spirit of her brothers possessed her too, and she recovered herself, and was able to make her way out of the court holding lizzie's hand. i must needs stay to see how will wiseman fared, and to hear what befell with regard to the maids of taunton, as they were beginning to be called by the world. several cases came between, all of which were treated in the same brutal fashion by the lord jeffreys; and when one thought of the pious and blameless lives many of these men had lived, their godliness and honesty of purpose, and their piety and sweetness of disposition, it seemed a strange thing to see them arraigned before this drunken and blasphemous judge, and feel that he had the power, in despite of the clearest evidence, to doom them to a frightful and hideous death. but my heart beat with a more personal interest when i saw the familiar face of will wiseman in the prisoner's place. he had grown thin and white during his captivity; for the prisons were crowded and unwholesome, and the prisoners were but poorly fed. i had done what i could for him; but i had not succeeded in seeing him, nor could i be sure that the things i took him from the simpsons' house ever reached him aright. jeffreys glared at poor will as though he would have done him to death on the very spot; but will looked at him back without any sign of fear--though, unless he were double and treble as brave as i, he must surely have been in a sad affright. and then the witnesses suborned by wicked mr. blewer, who had by this time edged himself very near to the judges, and was looking on with cruel malice in his eyes, came forward and bore testimony to the fact that will had read the different declarations of the duke to the people who wished to hear them; and thankful indeed was i that none came to tell how he had led the assault upon the arms in the church tower, for i was not sure that that would not have been a hanging matter. i thought they could not do much to poor will for such a small thing as this; but jeffreys was licking his cruel lips, and his face had that smile upon it which was almost worse than his scowl, and he cried out in his husky, rasping tones,-- "a young rogue, but a veritable villain! he must be taught to curb that mischievous tongue of his! pity the good old plan of boring it through with a hot iron is out of fashion now! never mind; we will find a cure nevertheless. what does the wise man say? 'spare the rod and spoil the child.' well, we will not do that. the rod shall not be spared. i give sentence that the prisoner, william wiseman, be whipped through every market town in somerset.--executioner, warm him well. the weather is growing sharp. see that he take not cold in the open air. he will needs be shorn of his clothing. warm his back for him! warm it well!" and doubling himself up in brutal laughter at his jest, the judge signed for the prisoner to be removed. my heart went out in pity and rage; but to myself i kept repeating, "my hoard of guineas--my golden hoard is still almost untouched. sure it can win for poor will an abatement of his punishment. the executioner at least will not be as brutal as the judge." when i came to myself, after having been wrapped in thought for i know not how long, i felt a curious thrill going through the court; and there i saw miss blake and mary mead standing side by side before the wicked judge, who was regarding them with a face of curiosity and malevolent interest. "and where be the other fair maidens?" he asked, looking at a paper before him. the usher of the court replied that only miss blake had been summoned; that the pupils could be found when necessary, but that they were taken by their parents, and were scattered here and there, save mistress mary mead, who had claimed to accompany miss blake. the names of twenty or more maids were read out as having been concerned in the making and the presenting of the colours; and much ribald jesting was indulged in on the part of the judge, who, however, seemed in not so evil a humour as heretofore. whilst the proceedings were going on, i observed with uneasiness that mr. blewer edged himself up to lord jeffreys; and my uneasiness did not decrease when i saw them laughing together as if on very friendly terms, and keep throwing glances in the direction of mistress mary, who stood white and calm and collected beside her more agitated mistress. i think perhaps she had never looked so beautiful as she did then in her devotion and courage; and i hated to see the eyes of those two bad men scanning her at their evil pleasure. after a while the judge took up the word again, and said that for the high misdemeanour of miss blake and all the persons named upon the list which had been read, a fine would be laid upon them by the court; but that this fine should be the christmas box of the maids of honour of her majesty the queen, and that they should levy it upon the taunton maids at their will and pleasure. how the sentence was worded i cannot remember, but that was the substance of it. the taunton maids were to remain at large, but to be given (as it were) to the maids of honour for a christmas box; and they were to have liberty to exact as much money as could be wrung from the parents and guardians of the maids. but after having so disposed of the irresponsible culprits, the judge turned with a heavy frown upon miss blake, and thundered out that as she had been the planner and contriver of all this, and knew what she was doing, which the young maids did not, she was condemned to be imprisoned in dorchester jail at the king's pleasure, where doubtless she would come to repent her of her evil ways. then whilst poor miss blake turned pale and seemed about to swoon, and the women in the court who had known her for long fell a-weeping, the judge turned his evil eyes upon mistress mary and said,-- "as for you, young mistress, who are old enough to know better, yet have been led into evil practices by those about you, i will pass over your misdemeanour in this matter but lightly. you shall pay your share of the fine imposed; but for the rest, your imprisonment shall not be in any jail--that were something too hard for youth and beauty. yet inasmuch as you have proved stubborn and rebellious, and are not fit to be custodian of your own fortune nor of your own person, we give you here in troth-plight to good mr. nicholas blewer, a godly and a loyal subject; and he will guide and teach and admonish you, and train you to be a submissive wife and a good subject. to-morrow we will see you wed ere we leave the town,--and so, ladies, farewell!" i listened aghast. my eyes turned helplessly from the evil face of the judge to the triumphant one of master blewer, wreathed in smiles that turned me sick; and then to the cold, calm visage of mistress mary, who seemed scarce to take in the meaning of these terrible words. after standing for a minute, gazing as if horror-struck at the judge, she suddenly pulled her hood over her face, and went out walking unsteadily, so that many thought her weeping. but i knew better: mistress mary's spirit was one that rose under stress of peril when that of another would have sunk. i was near to a door, and i pushed my way out and fought my way through all sorts of places where i had no business, till i found myself at her side. her face was as white as death; but she grasped me by the hand when she saw me, and said, in a low, strained voice,-- "take me somewhere, dicon, before _he_ can get out!" "come with me!" i said, rapidly reviewing the situation, and striving to know what to do; and as we passed out together, i heard people saying one to another, "she is ill! she is stricken to death!" "the evil visage of that man has killed her!" "yes," i cried, seizing my opportunity, "she is ill--she is very ill. she is stricken with a fever. i must take her to those who can tend her.--lean on me, mistress mary; i will take care of you." she obeyed me mechanically. i do not think she either heard or saw. there was a stunned look upon her face, as though somehow the soul had gone out of it. i knew that her mind was working inwardly all the more keenly and intensely; but to others it looked indeed as though she had been stricken for death, so ashen grey was her face, so fixed and irresponsive her eyes. she put her hand upon my arm, and by many by-ways and alleys i led her away, none following, as all interest was still centred in the doings of the court. still i was resolved to baffle all pursuit; and since poor miss blake was committed to prison, there was no safety for mistress mary beneath the accustomed roof. so i took her straight to the simpsons' house, where lizzie welcomed her with open arms; and after i had whispered long in her ear, a look of keen intelligence beamed over her face, and she whispered back in eager accents,-- "trust us, good dicon. we would do more than that for sweet mistress mary to save her from such a fate!" chapter xxvii. _the judge's sentences._ and what then was our plan? if, reader, you will trouble yourself so far as to read the annals of taunton for this time, and especially the part of it which refers to the taunton maids, you will find it set down that there was one maid who appeared in court besides miss blake; and that the terrible looks of the bloody judge struck such terror into her heart, that she pulled her hood over her face and fell a-weeping, and so left the court; and that so great was her fright that she went home and sank down in a swoon, and was dead of sheer terror before the sun had set. and if you will seek amongst the graves in the churchyard here, you will find one that bears the name of mary mead; and you will be told by the sexton that it is the grave of the fairest of the taunton maids, who worked the most beautiful of all the banners that were given to the duke of monmouth by taunton town, and who fell sick upon the very day on which she had borne herself so bravely in court before the wicked judge jeffreys, and died and was buried, though she was to have been wed on the very day of her funeral. the story says that it was to a handsome young viscount that she was to have given her hand, and claims sympathy for the maid on that account; but those who remember the real scene know better than that, although there are but few who know that mary mead does not lie in that grave, but that therein lies only a coffin filled with books and stones; whilst she--but i must not get on too fast with my story. in the confusion and excitement of the town at this time, and the universal fear and indignation inspired by these trials, it was so easy to arrange the thing. a coffin was brought to the simpsons' house that very night, for a maid stricken with a fever; and after it was filled with heavy substances, the lid was screwed down, and an order for burial was easy to obtain. for all had heard the story of mary mead in court, and how she had been stricken as it were for death upon receiving her sentence from the judge, so that none were surprised to hear how sudden the end had been; and since mr. blewer had drunk himself drunk with lord jeffreys that night, as a fitting preparation for his nuptials with a pure and virtuous maiden on the morrow, even he did not trouble us with any inquiry. then as all men had a wholesome horror of fever, the coffin was promptly screwed down, and all made ready for the burying before the dawn of the day. god forgive us if we did amiss; but those were hard and cruel days, and poor persecuted folks were driven sometimes to sore straits if they were to escape worse than death. i, at least, felt no qualm at that time, whatever falsehood i told to stand betwixt mistress mary and the peril of being wedded to that wicked man, who would make of her fair young life a veritable hell upon earth. for her sweet sake, let alone for my lord's, i would have done more than i did. as i say again, god forgive us our sin; for sin we did, albeit i scarce know now how i should act were such a thing to come into my life once more. so whilst all taunton slept after the excitement of that day, and in prospect of the near excitements of the coming executions, mistress mary and i slipped from the town on foot, and by unfrequented routes; and before the first streak of coming day appeared in the east, i had piloted her through the marshy tract of ground nigh to bishop's hull, and had left her, exhausted but in peace, with the kindly cottage folks, who had had their instructions from their well-loved foster-child, and who received this other mistress mary with open arms. indeed the story of the scene in the assize hall roused within them feelings of the keenest indignation. they would have done much more than was asked of them to save a victim of wicked judge jeffreys from the fate he had assigned her. they lived near enough to taunton to know somewhat of mr. blewer and his evil report; and when i sallied forth again at break of day, it was to feel that no surer place of refuge could have been found for mistress mary, and no more loving guardians. but there was plenty of work awaiting me still. i knew not the day nor the hour when will's punishment would commence; and it was needful that i should see and bribe the hangman, that he laid the stripes but lightly on my poor comrade's back, despite the charge of the judge. the execution of the prisoners condemned to death was fixed for the thirtieth of the month--only a few days distant; but will might be whipped at any time, and if i knew mr. blewer aright, he would seek the pleasure of seeing it done right speedily. well did i know that it was his spite alone which had caused will to be arrested. and the only marvel was that i had escaped his rancour, the more so that i had deceived him about mistress mary and lord lonsdale's speedy coming. but perhaps he had thought that i spoke in good faith, and was myself deceived. at least he doubtless saw his way to a more speedy and triumphant accomplishment of his wishes by gaining the ear of the wicked judge, and therefore laid his plans accordingly, caring nothing for the guardian's consent, now that he had the mandate of the chief-justice. i reached the town again before daylight, and found master simpson's house straitly shut up. for already it had been whispered abroad that mistress mary had died of the plague--the report having been set afoot by the gossip of the excited maid-servant, who had seen the grey and rigid face of the maiden as she was brought in, and hearing almost at once that she had died, ran forth in a great fright to her own relations, and declared that she had seen a dark spot on the brow of the lady; and in a short while it was being whispered about that the plague had suddenly stricken her and carried her off--which was thought only too possible in those days. nothing could have turned out better for our purpose, albeit we had not ourselves set the rumour afloat, nor did we hear anything of it till that morning, when a mandate reached the household from the mayor, ordering instant burial for the body, and that none should come forth from that house till leave was given from him. luckily for me i was away when that mandate came, so i escaped the imprisonment which lizzie and her aunt suffered for fourteen days, very willingly. and this saved them from any questioning or trouble from mr. blewer, who did not dare to came anigh the house; and though they say he raved and raged horribly at the ill turn fate had done him, he did not suspect for a moment that any trick had been played upon him. he, like all taunton, believed in the death of the maid; and only when no more signs of the plague appeared in the house or the place did men say it was most like to have been a virulent fever, caught perhaps in court from some prisoner from the fetid jail, or engendered by the fright of being brought face to face with the judge. as for me, being unable to obtain entrance to the simpsons' house, i went straight home and took from my store several golden guineas; and then i made my way to the bridewell, to seek speech with the hangman, and see if i could bribe him to treat will but lightly and mercifully. whilst i was passing through the streets i saw a great crowd gathered. coming hastily to the edge of it, i asked what was going on, and was told that mistress hannah hewling had been waiting outside a certain house where lord jeffreys was known to be, to petition him on coming out for a respite of her brother's sentence; for she verily believed that such interest would be made by their parents and friends in london town, that if he could but be respited a few days his pardon would be assured. i heard a woman's voice in the midst of the crowd raised in imploring tones, and i heard the brutal laugh of the wicked judge--that malicious laugh i had heard so often of late, and which seemed the most evil thing about that most evil man. then suddenly the crowd parted with cries of, "have a care! have a care!" and i saw that the judge had stepped into his coach, and that the prancing horses were just starting. but even then mistress hannah would not cease her pleading. she hung upon the coach, still rending the air with her cries, and offering--i think it was a thousand pounds for just two days' respite. but jeffreys looked forth from the window, his eyes scintillating with passion, and he cried out to his coachman,-- "whip her off! whip her off! cut her hands to pieces! i will not be badgered thus!" and the man, who seemed to be a worthy fellow of such a master, took his heavy whip and lashed at the poor lady's white hands as they still clung to the coach; and the people started forward and caught her as she fell away, half fainting with pain and anguish. and methinks if the judge could but have heard the curses with which he was followed as he drove away, he would scarce have felt comfortable for the rest of the day. now it so chanced that mother whale was in taunton that day, and she was standing in the crowd when this thing happened; and suddenly tossing her withered arms into the air, she burst into a torrent of execration that sounded almost like words of prophecy. the people stood agape with a stern joy as she hurled her maledictions upon him, and screamed after him that his turn would one day come--that he should himself be a fugitive from mankind, and should sue for the mercy which should be refused him, and should perish miserably at last like the wretched brute beast that he was! then all the people cried, "amen! amen!" and mother whale was taken into many houses that day and treated sumptuously; but she would add nothing to the words she had spoken, nor say how and when they would be fulfilled. all taunton, however, was whispering that a frightful fate would follow this monster, and a stern satisfaction was upon the faces of those who heard and those who told the news. so many interruptions on the way hindered my errand, and i was but just in time. poor will was to be whipped through the streets of the town this very day; but the fellow who had charge of the whipping was known to me, and had small relish for the office, seeing that will was a favourite with all who knew him, and had won golden opinions in the prison by his wit and cheerfulness, and the way he had served and entertained his fellow-prisoners, keeping up their courage and making light of hardships. it needed little of my gold to win the promised leniency. "i would not lay a finger on the lad if i could help it!" said the man; "but were i to put the office on another, the poor fellow might fare worse. he is a right brave and good lad. i would it were yon black-coated knave of a parson that i had under my lash! i would not spare him. i would warm his shoulders well, and give them a red jacket to boot that he should carry for long enough!" mr. blewer was not beloved in taunton, and his spite towards will had long been known. will came out looking pale, as he had done in court yesterday, but resolute and fearless for all that. his eyes lighted at sight of me, and he gave the hand i held out to him a hearty squeeze. "it's all for the good cause, dicon," he said. "art not thou ashamed to speak with one who is to be tied to the cart's tail yonder?" "ashamed of thee, will? i would i were half the man that thou art!" and then coming a little nearer, i whispered in his ear,-- "he will make thy punishment as light as he can, will; and after the judge be safely gone back out of the west, men say that prisoners will have little to fear. the mayors and people of the towns will have none of his brutal sentences carried out. thou wilt not be sent from town to town as he said." will gave a nod, but could say no more; for the executioner had come to tie him to the cart, and mr. blewer came hurrying up that he might witness the pain and shame of the boy he hated. but this was too much for the crowd. whether or not this man was a friend of the dreaded judge who had not yet left the town, the crowd was not to be quelled. a storm of groans and hisses arose at sight of him; women shook their fists in his face, and children took up stones, and would have cast them at him but for the restraining hands of their mothers. one great brawny blacksmith came forward with his hammer in his hand and stood right in front of the white-faced poltroon, who was looking this way and that, as though he knew not whether to fly or to hurl threats and defiance at the mob. "look you here, sir," said the man, speaking loud enough for everybody to hear. "you'd better watch this thing from somewhere else than the public streets, if you don't want the coat, which you're a disgrace to, to be torn off your back! i tell you, sir, that it would not take more than a few words from some amongst us to get you stripped and set where that poor lad is now; and there's not a man amongst us but would be glad to lay lashes on your back--ay, and we would too, if once our blood was up. so if you value a sound skin, go while there is yet time! taunton town is not trodden so much in the dust yet that she cannot rise in revolt against a monster like you!" yells, hisses, and groans filled the air, and mr. blewer's face turned from white to purple, and again faded to an ashen grey. if ever man looked cowed and beaten, he did then. but he took the hint, and made off as fast as his legs would carry him; and i verily believe had it been any other time--had the sense of fear inspired by recent events not been still strong upon the people--that he would have been pounced upon then and there, and whipped at the cart's tail through the streets of taunton by the infuriated populace. as it was, it was poor will who was whipped, though the lashes were but lightly laid on; and i think the boy scarce felt the pain in the sense of triumph at the discomfiture of his foe, and in the encouragement and sympathy of his townsmen. i walked beside him all the way, and he looked at me every now and then with a smile. all sense of shame--which to some natures is the bitterest part of such a punishment--was saved him; for he was regarded by the people as a sufferer in a noble cause, and as a youthful martyr might have been in days of old. women wept and blessed him; men called out brave words of praise and encouragement. he held his head up to the very last; and though he sometimes winced and shrank, he did not utter a cry the whole way through the town and back. but alas, alas! we had only raised in the breast of his implacable foe a spirit of hostility which would not be satisfied without a speedy vengeance. as we entered the yard of the prison again, there was mr. blewer waiting for us; and as he cast a scrutinizing glance upon poor will's back lined with blue wales, he uttered a snort of contempt and anger, and turned upon the executioner with an air of stern displeasure. will was led away by the jailer, who treated him kindly enough; but the hangman was detained by mr. blewer, who said severely,-- "why, fellow, what do you mean by carrying out my lord's sentences in such a fashion? he straitly charged you not to spare the rod; and you have not only spared it, but have scarce let him feel it! i tell you, fellow, the judge's mandates are not thus to be set aside. i will report the matter to him, and see what he says!" and at that the fellow broke out in a great passion, as well indeed he might. "sir," he cried, "men talk with horror of the cruelties of the popish priests; but commend me to a church of england priest for downright cruelty! you are like the country justices who will not believe that a man is burnt in the hand unless they can see a hole through it! shame upon you, sir. you would not dare to speak thus were the citizens of taunton here to listen!" mr. blewer's face expressed all sorts of evil emotions. he raised the cane he held in his hand and slightly threatened the man with it. "have a care, fellow! have a care how you speak, or you may chance to get a taste of your own rope's end one of these days!" "i would i could give you a taste of it!" muttered the man as he walked off in a rage; and as i followed him to get speech if it were possible of will, he broke out again and cried, "i verily believe the whole place has gone mad. men seem to be drunk with blood. surely this is like the great whore of the scriptures who is drunk with the blood of saints and martyrs! the king and his ministers will have a deal to answer for when the books come to be opened at the day of judgment!" my heart swells even now with indignation when i think of the rest of this story. what passed betwixt mr. blewer and that wicked judge i know not, nor can any man tell, but (although i knew it not till after the evil deed had been done--whereby i was saved some suffering) a mandate was sent down that very day to the keeper of the prison, saying that the boy wiseman was to be whipped again upon the morrow; and that another man was to be chosen for the office, that the sentence of the judge might be adequately carried out! and this thing was done in the prison-yard--for methinks the keeper of the prison was afraid to do it in the open streets--and the poor lad was so cruelly whipped that they say the bones of his back were laid bare. and it was in almost a dying state that he was carried back to the prison, where he fell into high fever, and might well have died had not news come of it to our ears, and had we not procured for him a separate room, where he could have ease and quiet, and such good nourishment and tendance as his state demanded. but when i saw him first he knew me not; and though i came day after day, he lay in a death-like stupor, muttering to himself, but speaking no word that any might understand, and only moaning a little when his wounds were dressed by the godly woman whose services we had bespoken for him. "never weep for him, dicon," said the good woman to me, as my tears fell fast at his sad state. "methinks the lord will yet raise him up. and this fever is a merciful thing for him, for it dulls his pains, and he knows naught of his sufferings: it would be far worse were he himself. we will get his wounds partly healed before he comes to feel them. he takes his broth and milk, and he gets a sort of rest by day, though he is wakeful and feverish at night. yet i can see that he makes progress day by day. he is a bold lad and full of spirit. he will be a sound and whole man yet, please god." so i received comfort, though my heart was still full of rage and grief; and methinks mr. blewer would have been well-nigh torn in pieces in taunton streets had he dared to show himself there, but he took himself off to wells when the judge moved thither, and for a short time we saw him no more. there was one more terrible day for taunton upon the last of this month of september, when the bloody sentences of death were executed upon the prisoners condemned to die there--nineteen in number. great numbers of other prisoners, who were condemned on pleading guilty in a body, did not suffer death, but were sold by the judge to various persons, who either extorted from their friends a ransom for them, or in the case of meaner persons, whose friends had no money, shipped them off to the plantations to be sold there, where it was said that they fetched about ten pounds a head. great numbers of these unfortunate men perished on the outward voyage; but some reached there alive, and of these some very few returned in after years to their country and their friends. i have myself spoken with more than one such, who has told me moving stories of the sufferings they underwent first in the vessels which conveyed them to these torrid zones, and afterwards at the hands of cruel task-masters. but of this i cannot more particularly speak now. it belongs not to my story, save to account for the fact that whilst so many, many hundreds, and even thousands, were condemned to death, the greater number of these were not executed, but were treated in this manner. i will not describe further the horrid side of the execution of our friends and fellow-citizens of taunton; but i will speak of their bravery, their resignation, and the words and bearing of them, which made even their enemies say afterwards, "if you want to learn how to die, go to the young men of taunton to learn." no respite of his sentence had come for mr. benjamin hewling, and he was one of the most courageous and steadfast of them all. of those to die with him whom i have named in these pages were master (or captain) john hucker and mr. william jenkyns. the only favour that their friends could obtain for some amongst these was the right to bury them in the churchyard after death. to save his corpse from dismemberment, miss hannah hewling had to pay the thousand pounds she had offered for the life of her brother; and there were a few others who gained this privilege also, though upon what terms i have never heard. surely this western assize must have been a fortune in itself for lord jeffreys. it was told us afterwards that he bought a fine property on the proceeds of the bribes received and the sale of prisoners living or dead. methinks that such a house as that must surely have been haunted by the shades of many an innocent sufferer! when the prisoners were brought forth from the castle by the sheriffs, and the sledge brought which was to convey them to the place of execution--the cornhill, where already a large fire had been lighted, so that those who were to be dismembered and their hearts burned might see the flames beforehand--they came forth looking calm and glad, and speaking brave words of comfort both to one another and to their friends, mr. benjamin hewling being (like his younger brother) most sweet and tender in his fashion of speaking, so that tears ran down all faces. but the sheriffs hurried them upon the sledge, grudging to them even the last words and embraces of their friends; and then the procession started. but a very strange thing then happened: the horses kept stopping short and refusing to draw the sledge, and they snorted and shrank back, and broke out in a sweat, as horses will do when greatly frightened. and all men marvelled at it, and whispered one to another that sure the angel of the lord stood with a drawn sword in his hand to keep back his servants from their bloody doom. i believe indeed that this was so; for i, who was mounted on blackbird, that i might see above the heads of the crowd, felt him shake and grow rigid beneath me, as though he too saw some strange sight. at last the mayor and sheriffs had themselves to come forward and actually pull and force the horses onwards, although to the very last they resisted, and showed every sign of terror and reluctance. upon the scaffold the prisoners embraced each other and joined in prayer; but they were rudely interrupted by the sheriff, who doubtless feared some breaking forth on the part of the people. "may we not pray a while ere we are brought before our maker?" asked one; whereupon the sheriff answered by a rough question,-- "will you pray for the king?" "i pray for all men," was the answer; and having thus prayed, he further asked if they might sing a psalm. "it must be with the ropes about your necks then," answered the sheriff brutally; but with a smile they consented joyfully to this. sure never was psalm so sweetly or strangely sung as the twenty-third of david that day by our brothers just with their last breath. so touched were all by the scene, that it seemed as though all the town had come forth to bear to their graves those for whom this favour had been purchased; and as we stood to see the earth thrown upon them, we broke ourselves into the words of the same psalm, and felt indeed that the valley of death had had no terrors for those who walked with the staff of the lord in their hands, and were comforted by his presence even there. chapter xxviii. _peace after storm._ the judge was gone; the prisons were emptying fast; men began to breathe again after their long terror; those who had fled their homes, and had been living in hiding in terror of their lives, came out once more, and appeared to gladden the hearts of their friends. it was said that a general pardon would now be issued to all those who had not suffered, and that the terrible time was over at last. the king, we heard, had been excellently well pleased by what his lord chief-justice had done in the west, and soon rewarded him with the chancellorship, as had always been believed. i think perhaps it was the knowledge of these things which went far to stir the hearts of the people against their sovereign, and to pave the way three years later for the bloodless revolution which set a protestant and a constitutional ruler upon the throne in place of the papist tyrant. i sometimes think that had we of the west country had more patience, and had we waited till the time was ripe, we might have been called patriots and saviours of our country instead of rebels and traitors, to be massacred and hanged by the hundred. but then, again, i have learned to doubt whether the duke of monmouth would ever have been received by the nation, or have made a wise ruler had he been so received. men who best understand him and the matter say that he could never have made good his title to the throne, that he was not born in wedlock, and that the people would never have suffered a sovereign with a stain upon his birth. queen mary with her good husband proved a kind and a wise ruler, and beneath her gentle sway peace, order, liberty, and prosperity were quickly restored; and yet there be men who even now talk as though the duke or his son might yet come back to put forward a claim, and many declare that he never died upon the scaffold, but that he was personated to the very last by a devoted follower. all this is looking ahead. in the days of which i speak we had no knowledge of the good times to come. we breathed indeed, feeling that the iron hand of military and judicial vengeance was relaxed from our throat; but it seemed to us then as if the bloody james were seated all the more firmly upon his throne. and now what shall i tell next of all the events that followed in such quick succession? perhaps whilst my mind is upon the subject i will speak of mr. blewer and the vengeance which fell upon him for his cruelty to a taunton boy. i have mentioned before good bishop ken, who did so much to ease the condition of prisoners, and who was beloved throughout all his diocese. he came to visit taunton not long after these things had happened; and going into the prison, he found poor will in a sad state still, although greatly better than he had been. it chanced, as luck would have it, that i was with him when the bishop came; for will's case had excited much comment in the town, and he was permitted to see his friends and enjoy many small privileges, which indeed his state demanded. and after the kindly bishop had spoken to the boy, and had prayed beside him a beautiful prayer, he asked me how he came into so sad a state. then i told him everything i knew, striving to hold my wrath in check, as was due to my superior, but scarce able to keep it from breaking out when i spoke of mr. blewer. i thought that the lord bishop's face grew stern as he listened, and i hoped that some punishment might fall upon the man who was a disgrace to the sacred calling he had embraced; and in truth i was not mistaken in this, as i will proceed to tell. i think it was the next day that the bishop and mr. axe were walking together through the town, and talking of many things--mr. axe, as i have many times said, being a reverend and godly man, well thought of by all, a loyal servant to the king, and a lover of order, but always on the side of mercy and justice. well, as these walked and talked there came towards them mr. blewer, mincing and bowing, and plainly resolved to gain the notice of the lord bishop; for he had an eye to promotion to some office in the church, and trusted that he might gain the good-will of this good man, and so be appointed to some living. as he approached, the bishop looked at him, asking his companion who the person was who evidently desired to attract his notice. mr. axe replied with some brevity and coldness that his name was mr. blewer, and that he had been living for some time in taunton, appointed by mr. harte to assist in the services of st. mary's church. at the sound of that name the bishop's fine face became very stern; and as mr. blewer came up with mincing steps and hat in hand, believing that the bishop had paused to permit his approach, he fixed his eyes upon him, and spoke in a tone that all the bystanders could hear. "mr. blewer," he said, "i have heard of you before. indeed i have had it in my thoughts to summon you to my presence." "my lord, you do me too much honour!" was the delighted answer, as the creature stood bowing and mincing before the bishop, his evil face wearing its expression of submissive adulation, such as had been seen upon it in presence of the lord chief-justice. "it is very true that i have done all in my poor power in the cause of law and righteousness during these troubled days, but i had scarce hoped that my poor services would have reached the ears of my gracious lord." "sir," answered the good bishop, with gathering sternness, "the less you speak of righteousness the better, for there has been little of it in your conduct during these troubled days. sir, think you that at a time when every man calling himself the servant of god should have been straining every nerve in the cause of mercy and tenderness, it is for the clergy to disgrace themselves by acts of selfishness, rapacity, and barbarity which make all honest men shudder and breathe forth curses? nay, sir, answer me not. it is for me to speak and for you to listen. i have heard of you, mr. blewer. i have heard how you persecuted an innocent maiden, and how you cajoled and bribed a certain high personage to grant you her hand in marriage, not for any love you bore her--for you had openly boasted that you would rid yourself of her in a year's time--but because she had money, which you desired to possess; and how she was only saved from your malice by the merciful hand of death. sir, you are as guilty of that sweet and tender maiden's death as though you had slain her with your own hands. small wonder that the very thought of being placed for life in such cruel hands caused that deadly fever of which she quickly died. i blush with shame to think that one who has dared to take upon himself the sacred calling and the holy office of the priesthood could ever thus disgrace both himself and his calling!" "my lord, my lord, you have been misinformed. some enemy has been wickedly slandering me. alas! in this evil town a godly man has but too many foes. i swear that i loved the maid--that i would have made her the best of husbands. my lord, i have been cruelly maligned. there is no man in taunton with a tenderer heart than mine. god be my witness that i speak the truth!" the bishop raised his hand in stern displeasure. "sir," he said, "take not that holy name to profane it by falsehood. can a man who will drink himself drunk with the lord jeffreys and his boon companions, and join with him in profane swearing and ribald jesting--can he be a fit spouse for a godly and a pure maid, to whom evil is but a name? mr. blewer, think not to deceive me by false swearing; i know too much of you and of your practices. and as though it was not enough to seek to wreck the life of this maiden, you must seek also to do to death in a most cruel and barbarous manner a lad whose only fault has been a boyish lack of discretion. sir, my blood tingles in my veins at the thought of this thing. were our prisons not crowded enough with men taken in the very act of rebellion, that you must needs lay an accusation against a young lad of excellent character for a mere indiscretion, and get him also incarcerated in those filthy dens, to languish there for weeks? and having done this, and having borne witness which gained for the poor child a whipping far in excess of his fault, what fiend possessed you to carry a tale to the judge in his cups, and gain for the boy such handling that his life has barely been saved by the exertions of his friends and the leniency of the prison authorities, themselves ashamed of such a deed? man, man, i almost forget myself in anger as i think of this thing. you calling yourself a priest and servant of the most high god, a minister of his children, a messenger of peace and righteousness--you to show yourself such a monster of cruelty that the blood curdles at the tale of your deeds! go, sir; let me never see you again. and do not dare ever to pollute a pulpit, or perform any holy office in the diocese over which i reign, lest i take upon myself to excommunicate you, as in the good old days of ecclesiastical discipline would have been done for a far less offence than yours!" and the good bishop walked on with a stern face, leaving the miscreant he had so worthily lashed with his tongue cowering and shivering with rage and fear, his face livid with passion and disappointment, and his hands nervously clutching at the cane he carried, as though in an instinctive longing to lay it about the shoulders of some innocent victim. not daring to follow, or to say another word to the good bishop, who was known to be a most tender-hearted man, and whose scathing rebuke was therefore far more telling than it would have been in the lips of the military bishop mew, who had actually taken the field in person, the wretched creature lingered staring after the retreating figures until they had turned the next corner, and then, gnashing his teeth in impotent shame and rage, he turned towards his own lodgings, and made as though he would have retired thither. but he was not destined to attain this shelter so speedily as he had thought. a crowd had gathered in the street to hear the bishop's reprimand, and murmurs of applause and approval had greeted every scathing rebuke. the very fact that the bishop had not scrupled to speak thus in public to a clergyman showed how greatly his indignation had been aroused; and as the evil creature turned to leave the scene of his humiliation, he found himself suddenly confronted by the brawny blacksmith who had given him a taste of his tongue on another occasion. "ho, ho, sir priest! so the good lord bishop is not a friend to drunkenness and debauchery and savage cruelty! and so the discipline of the church is relaxed, is it, and its evil servants cannot be touched? sure that must be a sore matter of regret to so righteous a man as good mr. blewer.--friends," and here he turned his face with a not too pleasant grin upon it towards the crowd now pressing closely round, "since the good gentleman here is debarred from the discipline of the church, suppose we good citizens give him a taste of such discipline as our town cudgels can bestow." a yell of delight answered this suggestion, and a hundred staffs were immediately waved in the air. mr. blewer's face turned a livid green tint, and he looked at his tormentor with a sickly smile, fumbling in his pocket the while. "very good, very good, my merry friend. thou art quite a wag in thy way," he gasped in his coward terror at the ring of fierce faces around him. "an excellent jest in truth, and one which i will myself tell to the good bishop when i go to clear myself in his sight of the slanders he has heard against me. all friends of the people have enemies who malign them, and so it has been with me. here, my good fellow, take that, and bid your friends disperse. i am a man of peace; let us have no unseemly disturbance here in the streets." he would have pressed a golden guinea into the blacksmith's hand, but that honest rogue turned away with an expression of scorn and disgust. "thy money perish with thee!" he cried, in a great access of wrath; and bringing down his heavy staff upon the shoulders of the luckless mr. blewer, he shouted out, "take that, thou coward and craven monster of cruelty! take that and that, and think of will wiseman! would i could break every bone in that wretched body of thine!" with a yell of pain and terror, and an agonized cry for the watch--which, however, never came--the wretched man sprang away and hurled himself through the crowd, every man of which, who was armed with a stick, hit him a blow as he passed, and every woman snatched at his coat or scratched his face, till his clothing was half torn off his back, and his face was running down with blood; and every one who struck him called out in savage accents, "remember will wiseman!" or, "take that for will's sake!" or some phrase like that, till the wretched man must have wished from the very ground of his heart that he had let will wiseman alone. and when i heard the story, and how mr. blewer had been beaten almost into a jelly ere he reached the shelter of his house, i felt indeed that will had been avenged, and that god had wrought vengeance even by the hands of the lawless and violent men. nor was any notice taken of this outrage by the authorities. i think both the mayor and the magistrates felt that mr. blewer had only met his due. the rebuke of the bishop was known to them, and there was no desire to take up the cudgels for a creature of such evil notoriety. all the town was sick of bloodshed and confusion, and was breathing once more in the hope of quieter days to come. to raise an inquiry and to punish the ringleaders of the mob would only stir the city into anger and even rebellion once again. so mr. blewer made his plaint in vain, and got no redress; and it was said of him that he went to bristol as soon as he was able to travel, and drunk himself to death there before the year was ended; but of this i know nothing certain. i never saw the miserable creature again, and i can only think it very like him to come to such an end after the disappointments and the violent usage he had received. the news of this discomfiture of his enemy, and of the vengeance taken upon him by the citizens, did much to hearten up poor will after his long illness. i told him the story myself as he lay on his pallet bed upon his face--for his poor back was still all raw, and it would be long before his wounds would be healed. but the old spirit was coming back into my comrade, and i saw his eyes glow and flash just in the old way. "o good jem truslove, good jem truslove! methinks i can see and hear him! o dicon, it were a thousand pities i was not there to see it with mine own eyes! had it been somebody else, how i would have thrashed him mine own self! so they made him remember will wiseman, did they? ah, it was good of them! it was indeed a kindly act! dicon, methinks after all he may have done me a good turn yet, for all that he meant to have killed me: for the governor was here yesterday after thou hadst gone, and he told me that so soon as i could be moved i was free to go back to my friends; that my sentence had terminated, and that he was sorry i had been so roughly handled. now that that monster of a judge is gone, men are ashamed to think what he made them do. they are sick to death of bloodshed and cruelty, and would fain save all his victims from the fate he desired for them." this indeed was very true. the bloody assizes, as men began to call them, had produced an indelible impression all over this west country. the gentry, who had been all along against the rising for the duke, and had joined hands with the party of order, on seeing the horrible and bloody vengeance taken upon the wretched inhabitants of their towns and villages, experienced a revulsion of feeling, and a great hatred of the king who could rejoice in and applaud such wholesale slaughter. they had believed that the ringleaders would of necessity suffer death--that was a necessary consequence of such an act of rebellion; but after the duke had been beheaded, and after the rising had been so completely quelled, it was said by all moderate and merciful men that but a slight punishment should be inflicted upon the mass of lesser prisoners, who had been led away by ignorance and enthusiasm misplaced, and were like sheep following one another they knew not whither. the sending down of the bloodiest and most iniquitous judge upon the bench with authority to massacre wholesale, and the unbridled ferocity with which he had carried out his bloody task, had thoroughly displeased and disgusted all moderate and merciful men; and the honours heaped upon the bloody wretch by his admiring sovereign on his return had added to the universal execration in which he was held. all mercy that was possible was therefore fearlessly shown now to those who had escaped the peril of the law, or lay under some sentence like that of will wiseman. other men--ay, and women too--had been condemned to be whipped through various places at intervals; but the magistrates took it upon themselves to release them after a very small part of the punishment had been inflicted. a sense of peace and security settled down upon a region so long rent by faction and fear. the citizens felt that the gentry were at heart with them in their indignation against the king, and in their desire after purer government; and although at the moment there was no thought of any fresh rising, the people began to whisper that a deliverer would come some day, and that the oppressed nation would turn as one man, and hurl the bloody tyrant from his throne. so although there was mourning and woe in too many homes in taunton, yet there was rejoicing in others; and amongst these latter was the house of master simpson, which was gladdened by the return of the master, on the very day when poor will wiseman had been got back, after having been so long away and suffered so much. i had brought him back myself in a coach which my uncle had sent from our inn; and i had made him comfortable upon a couch, and lizzie and her aunt were hanging over him and asking him all manner of questions, and making as much of him as though he had indeed been their brother and nephew, when we were startled by a heavy footfall up the flagged garden walk (for the impulse of fear was still strong within us, and we were easily alarmed at any unexpected sound), and lizzie suddenly uttered a little scream of ecstasy, and the next moment had sprung right into her father's arms. oh, what a clatter of tongues and clamour of voices there was, everybody speaking at once, and nobody able to listen till the first joyful excitement had passed! master simpson--he would never let himself be called captain again--had a long story to tell us of his narrow escapes from the bands of soldiers after the fatal field of sedgemoor. he had been amongst those who had made such a gallant stand upon the edge of the rhine, and had fired volley after volley into the surprised and disordered ranks of the enemy long after the duke had fled at the instance of lord grey, and in fact until every round of ammunition had been used. he confirmed the story told me by the poor soldier in the ditch, that if the ammunition-waggons had but come up, and the cavalry had but re-formed even at a distance and shown something of a front, the day might easily have been ours. he spoke bitterly of lord grey, and declared that if lord vere had been there things would have gone very differently. but i have often thought since that lord grey was scarce as much to blame as our people always said. i doubt whether the untrained horses would have stood the sound of firing had their riders been never so stout of heart. it is a long time before the mettlesome creatures can be made to understand that they must face the flash of fire-arms and the terrible noise and smell. sometimes it takes two years before a horse is seasoned; and these animals had been but a few weeks at most with the army, and had only smelt powder once or twice before. yet if the horses would not stand, their riders should have sent on the ammunition as fast as possible, instead of spreading dismay through the rear of the army and keeping back both the waggons and the rest of the foot. there was nothing to excuse the confusion which their rout created in the rear of the army. but what boots it to talk of these matters now? the day was lost, and master simpson, slightly wounded and greatly exhausted, had crawled into a ditch to hide himself, and was passed over by the soldiers in their first search. afterwards he got up and slunk away in an opposite direction from bridgewater, and received much kindness at a woodman's hut, where the people took care of him for several days, and where he healed him of his wound. then fearing to remain so near to the scene of colonel kirke's activity, he fled towards philip's norton, knowing the country from having traversed it before but recently; and many narrow escapes did he have of falling into the hands of the soldiers. but fortune favoured him, and he escaped each time, though once he was up hiding in the rafters of an old barn, whilst the soldiers were eating and sleeping on the ground beneath him; and he almost gave himself up for lost once, when the beam creaked beneath his weight, and somebody called out, "is anybody up there? speak, man, or i fire!" he did not, however, speak, nor did the soldier fire. the men laughed, and the officer swore at them for waking him up; and so they settled to their slumbers again. that was the nearest shave he had, but many were his perils; and lizzie sat holding his hand, and looking into his face with eyes full of terror and ecstasy; whilst the aunt bustled about to get the best supper the town could produce upon a sudden, and master simpson turned to will and made him tell all his history. he shook his head, and his face looked stern as he heard of the cruel judge; but it brightened as he heard how mr. blewer had been served, and said, rubbing his hands together,-- "good lads of taunton, good brother citizens, would i had been there to add a sounding blow to theirs! would that we could serve the judge the same! would that he might be at the mercy of the west country lads some day!" "somehow," said will slowly, as he lay white and thin upon his couch, a strange light coming slowly into his eyes as he spoke--"somehow i seem to think that i shall have my turn some day even with judge jeffreys! i think that i shall avenge upon him the wrongs of our people before he lays down his wicked life!" chapter xxix. _my lord and my lady._ i have spoken of other matters first; but it must not be thought that the affairs of mistress mary and my lord had been forgotten all this time. both, however, were in safe hiding; and until the wicked judge had left for london, and till peace and tranquillity had settled down upon our distracted country, it was better that they should remain there. no one knew exactly what turn might be taken by affairs from day to day; and especially until mr. blewer had left taunton, i was in continual anxiety as to mistress mary's safety, being haunted by a fear that he would get wind somehow of the trick played upon him, and discover the maid in her hiding-place. not that i thought now he could do aught to molest her, for all the place was hot against him; but the judge's words were that he had liberty to wed the maid, and who could tell what steps he might not take in order to obtain possession of her once more? so mistress mary lay in hiding, whilst her towns-folk talked of her as dead; and so the days slipped by. i heard also good news of my lord at ilminster, when i rode blackbird across to ask for him. i had but a short while to stay; but i saw him for a few minutes, and told him that mistress mary was safe, albeit i gave him not the whole history of her peril, fearing that he would incontinently come forth from his hiding-place to defend her, and perhaps put both their lives in peril thereby. for the pardon, although talked of, had not yet reached us; and it was scarce safe for one of my lord's rank to show himself openly, though others might venture to do so, as master simpson had done. i think it was two days after this visit that mistress mary bridges sent for me on some excuse about her pony--for i had chosen one for her not long since, and had helped to break it in. when i arrived she took me into the paddock, dismissing all others; and whilst we stood there seeming to be talking of the pony, who came and stood beside us, she began, in her quick, eager fashion,-- "dicon, what are we to do next?" i knew what she meant, and i had asked myself the question many a time before, but i had never found the answer. mistress mary continued, in her quick, imperious fashion,-- "mary cannot stay where she is much longer. it is no fit place for her when the winter days come. only those born in the marshes can live there, and they ofttimes suffer from ague and marsh fever. mary cannot stand it much longer. but where can she go? mary mead is dead. i know not whether she would suffer some penalty--or her friends--if she came to life again; and lord lonsdale hath her money, for he is her heir. and how can we get it back for her without telling all? and i fear lord lonsdale. he is not like my father; and he is a king's man every inch. what are we to do for her next, dicon? methinks that thou and i have this secret to ourselves. sometimes i half fear at what we have done, and then again i say that were it to do over again i would do just the same. but mary cannot always lie hidden; and how is she to appear again? that is what is perplexing me. dicon, what shall we do?" "marry her to my lord!" i cried suddenly, struck by an unexpected inspiration. "so she will be my lady vere, and mistress mary mead no longer. if she has lost one name, let her have another bestowed upon her. let her be married to my lord!" mistress mary's eyes brightened like stars. "ah, dicon, a good thought!" she cried, clasping her hands over the pony's neck; "but how may that be accomplished?" i was not quite so ready with an answer; but after a pause i said,-- "mistress mary, suppose you tell your lady mother all, and ask for her advice; and i will think over a notion which has but just now entered my head. let us meet again upon the third day from this, and speak of what we have done. if you could get mistress mary safely to ilminster in a secret fashion, perchance the rest might be managed; but until the pardon be issued, my lord cannot openly show himself, for he does not know that his own father might not give him up to justice, so grieved and wroth was he at seeing his son in arms against the king." "ah no; he is not so bad as that!" answered mistress mary. "and men talk very differently of the king from what they did a few weeks back. he has lost many of his friends, and will likely lose more." "then things will be all the better for us and our plans, mistress," i said; and after some more conversation of no especial moment, i left her and returned to taunton full of my own plan, which was indeed one of much boldness, seeing how humble mine own birth was, and that it was something bold of me to think of speaking with the great ones of the earth. yet my idea was nothing less than to strive to win the good bishop ken to stand our friend; and as he had always given me a friendly smile and nod since the day when he had seen me in the prison, i thought i might even presume to seek speech of him, since all men said how gentle and courteous he was to all who approached him, and how he was striving to bring back peace and prosperity to his distracted diocese. moreover, he was still in taunton at this time; and i had heard it said that he was shortly going to visit mr. speke of white lackington house, near to ilminster, of which mention has been made before. mr. speke had lost a son in the rebellion, executed at ilminster, and he himself lay under charges to pay a very heavy fine for his supposed or real share in the rebellion. the bishop's visit was one of condolence and friendship, and was likely to last a week or more. if i could but get speech of him before he started, i felt hopeful of bringing this matter of my lord's to a happy conclusion. fortune favoured me; for i met the bishop the very next morning, walking and meditating quite alone in some of the meadows beside the stream. i had heard that he had been seen to leave the town, but i scarce hoped to light upon him thus easily. he gave me a smile and a nod as usual, and then paused to ask how will wiseman fared, and was pleased to hear that he had been released and taken back to his master's house, where he was treated now as a son. and when we had spoken a few minutes of him, and the bishop would have passed on, i plucked up my courage and said,-- "my lord, may i speak a word to you concerning something that lies heavy upon my heart?" he gave me a quick, keen look, and then motioned me to walk beside him; and although he was so high and great a man, before whom all men bowed as he went along the streets, yet i am very sure that he told me as he walked that he was my servant, and that i need not fear to speak openly of what was burdening me. and i have thought, both then and since, that the holier and greater men are, the humbler and gentler they show themselves. sure no man could have listened with so much kindliness to my story had not his heart been as full of the love of god as our good bishop's was. and i told him everything from first to last--all that i have been laboriously striving to set forth in these pages--all of it, at least, that in any way concerned my lord and mistress mary; and how that she was living all the while, though held dead by her towns-folk and acquaintance; and how my lord was in hiding with mine aunt, and that i believed it was commonly reported that he had died of his wounds in the prison, though of that i could not speak certainly. but i spoke of the love those twain had ever borne one another, and how that death would be more welcome to either than to be sundered through this life; and at last, with tears starting to my eyes (for i had worked myself up to a state of great excitement), i stopped short and threw myself at the bishop's feet, and cried through my sobs,-- "and, o my lord, if you would but be their friend and marry them, so that none could sunder them more, they would bless you for ever, and i trow you never would repent it; and methinks even lord lonsdale would rejoice to have his son given back to him--with so fair and sweet a bride at his side. he loves mistress mary--he always loved her; and sure to have them both brought back as if from the grave would gladden any father's heart! o my lord, think of it--think of it, i pray you on my bended knees!" "nay, nay, lad," answered the bishop, laying a kindly hand upon my head; "it is to god alone that prayers must be addressed upon our bended knee. i am thy brother and fellow-servant; no such prayers should thy lips frame or my ears listen to. get upon thy feet, lad, and calm thyself. i can make thee no promise as to what i will or will not do in this strange case that thou hast laid before me, but i will at least relieve thy young shoulders from the burden they bear, see lord vere myself, and that right soon, and hear what he has to say of all this. i knew him as a fair child, and i have some knowledge of his father. i am deeply interested in thy tale. i say not that all has been well done; but i will not condemn thee, because thou hast been sorely tempted, and in these dark days of fear the best and strongest are ofttimes led to swerve from the straight path of virtue. there, boy, go home with thee. i would think more of this. and if thou knowest what becomes of mistress mary, let me hear it ere i leave for ilminster three days hence." i raced homewards with a heart wonderfully lightened of the load which had begun to press sorely upon it. and it was still more lightened when i next saw mistress mary bridges, who told me that she had whispered her story of mary's escape into her mother's ear; and that although the mother was rather disturbed and uneasy at the daring scheme, she had not chidden her daughter overmuch, and was helping now to get the other mary conveyed away to ilminster, where her face was not known, and where she might remain in safe obscurity until something had been decided. lady bridges had a sister living in that town, and was about to send her daughter to her on a visit, the elder mary accompanying her as her maid. it was no longer safe for her to remain amid the unwholesome marshes, and as soon as sir ralph should return from town the matter was to be laid before him, and he would advise the next step. my heart bounded with joy when i heard that ilminster was to be the place of mistress mary's residence; for was not my lord there? and if he were there and the good bishop too, what might not happen to bring all things to a happy conclusion? i did not tell mistress mary of my talk with the bishop, fearing lest i should stir up hopes which might not be fulfilled later; but i hugged the knowledge in my heart, and i thought of little else during the days which followed. my heart was in ilminster, but i was kept at taunton by my work in my uncle's house. life was beginning to move in its accustomed grooves again, and i had my set duties to attend to, and could not rove about almost at will, as i had done during the months of distraction and excitement during which life seemed to have entirely changed its conditions. i could run to and fro in the town, and visit friends there at leisure moments; read or tell the news to poor will; and make a little boyish love to lizzie, who grew dearer and dearer to me every week. but i could not get off to ilminster for some while, and no letter reached me from thence. mistress mary bridges, as i heard, was still with her aunt; and that was all i knew. the house next door stood blank and empty. poor miss blake had died in prison of jail fever or small-pox (as was severally reported) very soon after her admission there. mrs. musgrave, who had always kept much more in the background, had now retired, and the school which had obtained such a sudden notoriety ceased to exist. the general pardon, so anxiously waited for by the still half-fearful people, came at last; and we were glad when it did so that miss blake was no longer in this world, for her name had been excepted from it, and figured upon the list of those whom the king refused to pardon. the maids who had presented the colours (or rather their parents and friends) were still being harried by the maids of honour for the fine-money, and the negotiation was long of settlement. the rapacious court ladies demanded seven thousand pounds; but after long wrangling i believe they were forced to content themselves with less than half. from time to time i used to hear from the indignant lizzie that the matter was still under negotiation; but how it was finally adjusted i cannot now remember, nor is it of any moment to these pages. the arrival of the general pardon was the signal for a public holiday. bonfires blazed, bells rang joyfully from the church steeples, and i asked and obtained leave to take myself off and ride to ilminster to see how my kinswoman there fared. all the town was astir and in holiday guise, as taunton had been when blackbird and i rode forth in the morning. although the wind was sharp and keen, the sun shone merrily, and all faces looked beaming and happy. at my aunt's house i saw an appearance of stir and festivity by no means usual there; and when i stopped at the door and asked for her, i was told that she was at the church, and that i had best follow her there. this i was ready to do, for i took it to be some special thanksgiving service that was going on, and i was willing enough to add my voice to that of a glad and happy people, relieved from a long oppression and fear. but when i neared the church, i saw few persons going in or coming out, and concluded that my aunt must have gone to repeat her private thanksgivings there. nevertheless having come so far, i was not to be turned back, and i entered the building with bent head and hushed footfall, hearing a voice at the upper end reciting some office, though the seats about the lower end of the church were all empty. treading cautiously so as not to be heard, i advanced towards the choir, when i was suddenly arrested by a sight that sent the blood surging into my head till i felt that i must grasp something solid or i should surely fall. for the service going on was a wedding. the bride and the bridegroom were even now joining hands, and speaking the irrevocable word which made them man and wife. i did not need to look to recognize the clear tones of my lord's voice, nor the soft sweetness of mistress mary's, nor yet the beautiful mellowness of the good bishop's. yet when the mist had cleared from my eyes, i gazed and gazed as though i could never satisfy myself. yes, there was my lord, looking more beautiful than ever with his golden hair, his deep-blue eyes, his face still pale from sickness and confinement, but with a look of restored health, that made my heart bound. and there beside him, in a long trailing gown of white that gave to her the air and dignity of an empress, was mistress mary mead--though that name had but now passed from her keeping for ever--a veil just shading her fair face, but unable to hide the beautiful features and the glories of the dark unfathomable eyes. close beside her, as being the one who had given her in marriage, was sir ralph bridges, tall, upright, and soldier-like; whilst clinging to her mother's hand, sparkling, kindling, brimming over with joyful excitement, was the younger mistress mary, who can henceforth claim exclusive right to that title; and behind them, some paces distant, my aunt, looking proud and happy beyond all words; and some score or more of persons who had heard the romantic story, and were anxious to be present at the nuptials. the marriage over, the bishop gave a fatherly blessing; and soon the little procession moved down the long aisle to the door, to which i had now retreated. as they came out, my lord's eyes suddenly fell upon me, and at once kindled with such a look as sent the hot blood surging into my face. "dicon--it is good dicon!" he cried, and held out his hand; whilst over mistress--i mean the viscountess vere's face there flashed such a sweet, tender smile, that i cherish the memory of it to this very day. "good dicon, my only sorrow to-day was that thou wert not here to see it," said my lord. "what fairy messenger brought thee here in time after all?" i could not reply categorically to the question. my lord in his white-and-silver suit, his golden locks flowing over his shoulders, the sunlight streaming upon him, his face full of light and unspeakable happiness, was a vision so bright and so beautiful that my eyes were dazzled, and my heart too full for speech. i think they understood, for the lady smiled at me and then at her husband, and she said in a gentle tone,-- "we will see him again anon, reginald.--for the present, good dicon, farewell. come to us again another time." bowing low before them as they moved towards the coach that awaited them, i could only exclaim in a gasping voice,-- "my dear lord! my gracious lady!" chapter xxx. _a christmas scene._ the great dining-hall of bishop's hull was wreathed in greenery and all ablaze with lights. in the gallery overhead a band of musicians discoursed sweet music, whilst below were assembled a party of gay and merry guests, gathered round sir ralph bridges' hospitable table; and the only sorrowful face to be seen at that board was the grave, anxious countenance of lord lonsdale. i was there, clad in the livery of the house, and waiting at table with the practised skill which i had learned in my uncle's inn. my heart was beating fast as i came and went, and caught here and there a word of the talk passing between the merry guests. now one gentleman would relate an anecdote or give us a reminiscence of his youth, or another would speak to his neighbour, perhaps with bated breath, of some of the recent events which had made this year so memorable in our part of the country. although it was the eve of christmas, and the prevailing wish was to drop care and keep in the background all sorrowful topics, yet it was impossible altogether to forget or keep in abeyance thoughts so easily suggested by the passing mention of persons or places. moreover, the sight of the sword hanging upon the wall in a conspicuous position--mistress mary's sword--called forth towards the close of the repast an account of that incident, which had become known far and wide by this time; and when sir ralph told the tale, with pardonable pride in his bright-faced young daughter, whose rosy countenance glowed half with pleasure and half with modest shame at all the notice bestowed upon her, every glass was raised to be drained to her health, and a cheer went up from many throats in honour of the maid who had not feared to strike so goodly a blow in defence of her mother. it was just when this buzz of acclamation was going round that i heard lord lonsdale say mournfully to his host, next to whom he was seated: "ah, if my poor boy were living yet, how happy it would have made me to seek for him the hand of that brave daughter of yours in marriage. methinks the maid could soon have learned to love him. i never knew any whom he had not the power to win by his handsome face and winning ways." "he was a very goodly youth," answered sir ralph, quietly and gravely. "have you given up all hopes of seeing him again? are you assured of his death?" "i have ceased to hope now," replied the father, with steady gravity. "it seems probable that he died of his wounds in the castle, albeit the governor was not informed of the fact, and in the general confusion of those days was unable to trace whether he had died or been removed by mistake to the pestilential bridewell, where he was like to perish quickly, enfeebled as he was, or whether he made good his escape. for long i hoped that this last had been the case; and from the day on which the pardon appeared i have been eagerly looking for tidings of or from him. his name was not upon the list of exceptions. there was no fear for him once that was out. if in the land of the living, why does he give no sign? alas, alas! i fear there can be no doubt but that he is dead. and i must bear about with me the life-long remorse of having driven him to his death." "nay, my good friend, how could that be so?" "i thwarted the lad in the dearest wish of his heart," answered lord lonsdale sadly. "ah, how often have i mourned that step and its dire consequences! thou knowest my ward, mary mead, one of the sweetest maidens that ever walked this earth? ah, why did i not see things then as i do now? i loved her as a daughter, and yet i had never thought of her as a wife for my son, being anxious to ally myself through him with the portman family, as you know. and when, as little more than children, the pair plighted their troth and sought my blessing, i denied it harshly, and sought to separate them by sending her away to that place where she learned those lessons which have been her undoing and that of my poor boy also." "ah, i see! had she remained with you and been wedded early to lord vere, she would have been saved from the influences which worked so strongly upon her--" "ay, and were the cause at last of her death, as well as the cause of my son's joining the rebels. his heart was not with the duke of monmouth, albeit his soul doubtless swelled within him at the tales of coward cruelty and tyranny which he heard of his majesty. after all, good sir ralph, if you and i can foresee a day when perhaps some such struggle must again be fought, though with another and a more righteous and legitimate champion, ere this land can be freed from the curse of tyranny, can we blame so harshly the younger and more ardent souls who saw in this young duke a champion of liberty and religion? had all england known something more of the temper of the king and the nature of the tools he employed, and purposes yet more fully to employ, i sometimes wonder whether more of our class might not have joined issue with the duke of monmouth, in despair of ever serving such a monarch as the treacherous and unkingly james." sir ralph bridges bent his head with a look of sternness upon his face; and i hearing these words, marvelled at the change already creeping over the minds of the gentry, who but a short time back, in the hour of his peril, had rallied so gallantly round their monarch, even though for his own person they held but small love. surely the coward cruelty of the king and his officers had done much to estrange the hearts of his subjects from him. then, after a brief pause, sir ralph took up the thread of the discourse. "and so you did truly love the poor maiden, who was said to drop down dead, or nigh to dead, at sight of jeffreys' evil face? you would not have forbidden her union with your son had things turned out differently with both?" "had my son but been restored to me, he should have chosen his wife when and as he would. i would have never said him nay, never striven again to force my will upon his. but indeed i sometimes think that had he returned to find her dead, he would have never recovered the blow. his heart has been set on her ever since their childhood. i can see it now. would to god i had never thwarted them! the load i have to bear about with me is well-nigh too heavy for me. the death of both lies at my door! i shall never see grandchildren sporting at my knees, and the fair mansion in devonshire prepared for vere and his bride will remain desolate and empty till it passes into the hands of aliens." and lord lonsdale's voice quivered as he spoke, and i thought that there was even a glint of tear-drops in his eyes. at this moment sir ralph gave me a signal--the signal for which i had been anxiously waiting all through that long banquet. without a moment's delay i crossed the floor, then opened a pair of folding doors which shut off a smaller apartment within; and immediately there stepped forth, in all the bravery and beauty of their wedding garments, my lord the viscount and his fair young wife, the latter so changed and transfigured by the few weeks of wedded happiness that i was startled by the wonderful radiancy of her beauty. at the same moment the band struck up a measure so full of joy and triumph that no heart could fail to beat in unison with the glad strain; and to the accompaniment of this soul-stirring music the viscount led forward his bride, and kneeling with her at his father's feet, said in accents which could reach only the few who stood nearest,-- "father, i have come to ask your forgiveness for everything in which i have failed in filial duty towards you, and also to beg your love and fatherly blessing for me and for my wife." well, they call lord lonsdale a proud man, and one whose feelings lie deep hidden, and perhaps they do in the main. but there are moments in a man's lifetime when he cannot but show of what his heart is made--when love will not be hidden, but will force itself through the crust of pride and reserve and show itself to all the world, no matter who may be there to see. the next minute lord lonsdale was weeping upon the necks of his long-lost son and his fair young bride, whilst the guests sprang to their feet, filled their glasses, and shouted as with one voice, "long life and happiness to lord vere and his bride! welcome and happiness and honour to the bridal pair!" yet whilst others shouted and laughed and made the hall ring with their acclamations and glad congratulations and wondering questions, i turned aside and wept for joy. for until this happy hour i had not known with certainty that all would be well; and now that i knew the best, my heart so swelled with happiness and triumphant gladness that there was nothing for it but to weep, although never in all my life had i known such a moment of unalloyed happiness. but one surprise was yet in store for me, and an honour that i little deserved; for you who have read these pages will know that i am no hero, albeit it has been my lot to witness some stirring scenes, and to find myself sometimes in perilous places. whilst i wept in my corner i felt a touch upon my arm, and there was my lord standing before me all shining in his white and silver; and he took me by the hand and led me forward and presented me to his father and the company as the person who had saved his life more than once (though how he made that out i know not, my head was in such a whirl), and my lady put her hand upon my shoulder and told how i had served her--but that was not me, but mistress mary bridges. then the guests shouted again, and drained a bumper to my good health; and when i left the hall, it was carrying in my hands a small but weighty packet, which was placed there by my lady, but which i was too dazed even to look at then. and only when i got to my own room in the hall did i find that it was a purse containing five hundred golden guineas, and that i, dicon snowe, at the age of fifteen and a half years, was made a rich man for life. epilogue. my story is done, in so far as i set myself the task of telling the tale of the ill-fated rising of the duke of monmouth. yet methinks it will be more complete if i add but a few more words, and tell of how will wiseman revenged himself upon that wicked judge whose cruelty and injustice wrought such misery and havoc in the prosperous and happy homes of the west. whilst the king was rousing hatred and anger throughout his realm, which ended in his being forced to fly the kingdom but four short years after the events i have related, i was living happily at master simpson's, having elected to join with him in his business (though later in life i became possessed of the three cups inn, and left the shop to my eldest son, as being a place of less temptation for a youth than a house of entertainment), and being at the age of eighteen betrothed to pretty lizzie, who loved me in spite of my crooked back, and has made me the best and most loving of wives. will wiseman remained with us, rising from apprentice to shopman in due time; and when the kingdom was all in a turmoil of excitement at the reports flying about as to the flight of the wicked king, and the landing of his son-in-law, william of orange, nothing would serve will but that he must go up to london to see and hear the news. and since he had had no holiday for many years, we gladly encouraged him to do so; and thus it came about that he became, through god's providence, an instrument for the punishment of that most wicked of wicked men, lord jeffreys. will stayed in the house of a poor scrivener at wapping, and this man had the most terrible fear of the great judge, having been once brought before him, and having never forgotten the gleam of those rolling eyes nor the frightful aspect of those bloated features. all london was in a ferment. the king had fled, so it was said; and rumour said also that the wicked chancellor, in awful terror of what might now befall him, had fled likewise, and that he was about to leave the kingdom in disguise, hidden away in some coaling-boat. no one was perhaps more excited than will by this intelligence; and when further information was brought by the mate of a coaling-vessel lying in the river to the effect that the chancellor (if indeed he could be so termed seeing that the king had taken over the great seal into his own possession to destroy it) had come on board in disguise, and was actually lying hidden there till sailing-time next morning, will was one of the excited and furious crowd who rushed off to the justices of the peace in that neighbourhood to obtain a warrant for his arrest. but the justices complained that since no specific charge was brought against jeffreys, they could not grant this; and perhaps they were, in truth, still afraid of the man before whom so many of them had trembled in the days of his power. the people might have been baffled by this rebuff had it not been for the firmness of will, who suggested that they should demand a warrant from the lords of the council; and from these dignitaries, who were still sitting, they obtained a warrant to arrest him on the charge of high treason, those ministers thinking it injurious to the welfare of the kingdom that he should be allowed to leave. armed with the warrant, they went on board the coaling-boat, and searched it through and through, but found no person bearing any likeness to the chancellor. the captain baffled all their inquiries; and it was only later that they discovered that jeffreys had indeed been there, but finding the boat could not sail before morning, had gone upon another vessel for the night, and thereby nearly saved himself from his enemies and pursuers. nearly--but not quite. chance, as some would call it; providence and an outraged maker, as we of taunton maintain, decreed it otherwise. will, sorely grieved and disappointed, retired home at dark and went to bed as usual; but with the morning light restlessness came upon him, and he felt inaction impossible. his host, the humble scrivener, was going about his daily duties, and will walked with him. their way led them through an unsavoury lane that was called hope alley, and lay hard by king edward's stair at wapping. in passing down this alley they saw before them a sign hanging out, representing a red cow, which was the name of a pot-house much frequented by sailors. will's glance travelling to this gaudy sign, suddenly encountered the gaze of a pair of rolling blood-shot eyes which seemed suddenly and strangely familiar. the next instant he had recognized, beneath the shade of a tarpaulin hat, the bloated visage of the terrible judge last seen by him in the assize hall of taunton. grasping the scrivener by the arm and whispering a few hurried words to him, will hastened away for the guard; whilst the scrivener entered the house and the room, where the too reckless fugitive had adventured himself in order to indulge once more his intemperate love for strong drink, and found that worthy shrinking back into a corner, his hat pulled far over his eyes, his face hidden as much as he could hide it by a pint pot. in a moment the house was surrounded by a hooting and yelling crowd. i have heard will describe the scene a hundred times, and each time i seem to see it more plainly than the last--the cowering, craven coward now shivering and shrinking before men whom he had sworn at, raved at, cursed and brow-beaten, more cowed and terrified than the most miserable of his victims. and verily that crowd would have torn him limb from limb or ever the guards had come at him (for, contrary to the custom of an english mob, this one was bloodthirsty and furious to an extent which can better be imagined than described), had it not been for the action of the train-bands, who forced a way through the hooting mob and got the prisoner safe into a coach, though not before his clothes were torn half off his back, and he had been wounded by many a flying stone, and had shrieked aloud for mercy in his agony and terror. that very day, after an interview with the lord mayor and by his own desire, he was carried to the tower, but even so he barely escaped the fury of the populace; for when it was known that the coach contained this man so bitterly detested and feared, there were continual and determined attacks made upon it, and the bloated visage was seen from time to time appearing first at one window and then at another, whilst the miserable man clasped his hands and cried aloud for the mercy he never bestowed upon those who had implored it of him. and thus he entered the tower a miserable and despairing captive, only a little more than three years after that bloody assize with which his name will always be associated. four months later he perished miserably, despised and hated by all men; and not even left in peace to die, but assailed by all sorts of malicious letters and even gifts which must have made his last days a hell upon earth to him. but enough of that bad man. we of the west country heard with stern satisfaction of his end, in the bright spring-tide and the happiness we were all feeling in the wise and just rule of our new sovereigns. and the tale of how will wiseman was the instrument of his final capture, and thus was the means of avenging the miseries his hands had inflicted upon so many here, will always be a favourite one with young and old in taunton town. men remembered the prognostication of mother whale, and how she had prophesied an evil end for him, even as she had prophesied the exile of the tyrant monarch. it seemed, indeed, that in spite of all we had suffered, the lord had been working on the side of virtue and freedom. the wicked king was disgraced and driven away; 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