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/ -c<r--
BY
WALTER BESANT AND JAMES RICE,
AUTHORS OF "RKADY MONEY MORTIBOY," "THE GOLDEN BU^FLY"
"BY CELIA's ARBOUR," ETC.
®o«0ttt0, mitnm mA §etxait:
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Entered according to Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the year one thousand eight hun-
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}
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■♦I
National Library Bibllothdque nationale
of Canada du Canada
PniNTEP BY Hunter, Rose A: (^o.
Toronto.
V
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0O93S546
CONTENTS.
(
:?
CHAPTER r. '*"'''
In R0U8DON Bay ^
CHAPTER II.
Love the Unconqubrep j4
CHAPTER III.
A LtJCKY Run 24
CHAPTER IV.
Ths King's Clemency _ 317
CHAPTER V.
Femina Purens ^ 4y
CHAPTER VI.
Lady Campion g4
CHAPTER VIL
The Victory of Trafalgar >jq
CHAPTER Vin.
Out of the Golden • 1 st g^
V
)
1 eit''/
'7!
S
il
'TWAS IN THAKArUAR'S BAY.
CHAPTER 1.
IN UOUSnON HAY.
^:^^^HEUFi iirc not many
places in Knglandwliich
li' an; nioio beautiful than
Tiynje Ilegis, tlio place
whoro tny own ehildhood was
spent. You have lonjLf hill-slopes,
covered with orchaixlsand hani'.nir
I woods ; you have broad valhjys,
' in which are peaceful hamlets and
yellow coriitields ; you have open
spaces on windy hill-tops, where
tall thistles are crowned with wine-
ed b; Us of feathered spray, ready
? to be blown to the four corners of
the earth l)y the carrier winds; you
have chalk downs with bare turf,
and here and there a brij^ht trout
stream, where you may see the
quick-eyed water- rat, or even catch
a glimpse of an otter; you have
straight and sturdy cliffs, looking
out upon the waste waters ; you
have here and there a little port
with its little town; and you have,
as the towering glory and splend-
our of the whole, tlie Underclitf,
with its bracken fields and grassy
knolls heaped one above the other,
backed by the crags and faced by
the sea, telling of fallen rocks and
undermining waves.
My name, when I was a child
and ran wild among tlu-se wondrrs.
learnijig every day to fed their
beauty more, was Ploasance Noel.
There are plenty of Noels in Dor-
setshire, but none of my kin in
Lyme. Nor do I know how [ came
to be born there, nor anything
about my mother, who died when
I was born; nor nnich al)out Jiiv
father, who was a ship-carpenter
by rank and calling. I was born,
I believe, in the year one thousand
seven hundreil and eighty-seven.
I never had a birthday , because no
one cared to remember such an in-
significant circumstance as the
l»irth of a sailor's child. My father
went down ineighty-nine.on board
the Invincible, which foundered in
a heavy gale off Jamaica, with all
hands except two or three. These
managed to get to land oi- to be
picked up, I forget which, and told
the disastrous st<»ry.
Dan Gulliver came to my help,
being always the most kind-lieart-
ed of men, and, besides, a friend of
my ffither's. He lived at Rousdon,
which is three miles and a-half
from Lyme, being then a widower
with two boys living, two or three
years older than myself.
There are a good many Gullivers
I? 7 I
a
'TWAS IS TllAI'Ar.(:All'.s IIAV.
i:
I
ill Dorsotshiro, as well as Noels,
When r first read Gulliver's Tra-
vels, it was the more real to ?nc,
Itecaiise T wns sure that the honest
captain nuisi hnve come from my
part of the country, and I was
etjually sure that in appeaiance he
^■)-eatly resend>led Dan.
Nobody, except his sons, ever
called him anything else but Dan.
Not Mr. (iulliver, or Daniel Gulli-
ver, but j)lain Dan. As early as I
can remember him, he had grey
hair. He was a man of middle
lieight and strong build, with im-
mense hands; he had a face covered
all over with crowsfoot wrinkles,
and it had tlie kindliest and gent-
lest expression that can dwell upon
Jiuman countenance; his light-blue
•eyes rested upon one when he
spoke, as if he loved to look upon
his friend; he was as incapable of
thinking or speaking evil as of do-
ing it. Therefore he was every-
body's friend. I suppose he knew
very little of evil, living as he did
upon his seaboard farm, as remote
from the world and as little suspi-
cious of <langer as did those poor
men of Laish, who dwelt "after the
inannei- of the Zidonians, quiet and
-■secur(\"
His estate consisted of a pati-i-
monial ten-acre slip, lying chiefly
jilong the cliff. It was a poor piece
of land, which grew scanty crops,
lliaivily worth the trouble of culti-
vation, but it gave occui)ati()n to
the two boys. Job and Jephthah,
and to the one farm-labourer whom
we employed, Isaac Agus ; Dan
himself looked after the boats, of
course. If the land was poor, the
fai-udiouse and yards showed every
sign of prosjierity. There were pigs
which grunted in the sties or roam-
ed about the yard, grubbing among
roots with philanthrophic resolve
to waste no time in becoming good
pork ; fowls which laid eggs and
chuckled over them ; ducks which
drove broods of little soft yellow
balls, which might have been co-
coons had they not been live things,
into the pond ; geese, on tlic waste
land, which cackled to each other
encouragement to get fat come
Michaelmas ; and there were the
most generous of cows in the mat-
ter of milk. The dairy, where Mrs.
Agus and I made butter, was al-
ways full of cream and milk ; there
were hayricks, ploughs, flails,carts,
harrows, and all the signs of suc-
cessful cultivation.
The twin boys, Job and Je])h-
thah, were, like their father, of
middle height, with broad should-
ers and big hands ; they were as
exactly like each other as a pair of
Chinamen, but when you came to
Jive in the house, you learned gra-
dually to distinguish certain little
differences not apparent to strang-
ers. Outside the farm no one knew
Jephthah from Job, and addressed
either at random as Job or Jeph-
thah. They had blue eyes, like their
fathei', light-brown hair, and a
gentle way, which they inherited.
But they exaggerated the paternal
1
(
Isaac A^'us ; Dan
I after the Ijoats, of
I land was poor, the
yards sliowed exevy
ity. There Avere pigs
in the sties or roam-
nl,grubl)ii)o- among
lanthropliic resolve
e in becoming good
licli laid eggs and
hem ; ducks which
F little soft yellow
gilt have heen co-
lot heen livothini'-s
geese, on the waste
\led to each other
to get fat come
id there were the
f cows in the mat-
i dairy, where Mrs.
e butter, was al-
mand milk; there
loughs, flails,carts,
the signs of suc-
)n.
s, Job and Jej)h-
! their father, of
ith broad should-
ds ; they were as
other as a pair of
'■hen you came to
. you learned gra-
uish certain little
^parent to strang-
arm no one knew
ob, and addressed
as Job or Jeph-
ue eyes, like their
^n\ hair, and a
h they inherited,
ited the paternal
I
IN ROUSDON HAY.
X
characteristics. His gentleness be-
came, with them, slowness ; his
taciturnity became absolute dumb-
ness.
The most frequent visitor was
Joshua Meech, Dan's nephew. He
was a miller at U]) Lyme. When I
was sixteen he must have been
about six-and-twenty — someseven
years oldei' th".n the boys. He, too,
was strongly built and well-])ro-
portioned, but he had the other
Dorsetshire face— not that of the
Gullivers. Everybody knows that
there are two faces in Dorsetshire
— that with blue eyes and brown
hair, a round face, and that with
dark hair and dark eyes, an oval
face; sometimes very beautiful, but
sometimes forbidding and harsh.
Joshua's face had the IfHer cha-
racter. ^His eyes were to , ^ose to-
gether ; his expression was threat-
ening; his chin too long and S(piare;
his manner was imperative. He
was a masterful man, a man who
always got what he wanted ; if he
desired a thing, he said he should
have it, and he got it. The history
that follows, however, is that of a
thing which he desired vehemently
and did not get. Another visitor,
and the only other friend of the
family, was the rector of Rousdon,
the Reverend Benjamin Burden.
Rousdon parish contained a po-
pulation of eleven souls, six of
whom came from Rousdon Farm.
Its yearly value was thirty-five
pounds. There was also a house
with a bit of glebe-land. The house
was a cottage ; the glebe-land was
a garden cultivated by the rectoi-
himself. He had an orchard, the
apples of wdiich he sold for cider,
a fi'uit and vegetable garden, two
or three pigs, somcfowls, and some-
times, the gift of his churchwarden,
some ducks. He was a bachelor/'
and lived entirely alone in his cot-
tage. His church was a barn with
a tluitehed roof, kept from fallino-
down by Dan and the boys. The
old pews were worm-eaten ; the
pulpit was tottering; the liroken
windows were repaired with oiled
paper; the covers were dropping
off the church-bible and prayer-
book ; his surplice was in rags ;
there was no church-plate; and the
one weekly service was a duet be-
tween himself and Dan, who was
at once his clerk and his church-
warden. The old rector wore a wi"-
on Sundays; on other days he tied
up his head in a handkerchief ; he
never forgot his cloth, or went out
without a cassock, though that
garment was in rags ; he 1; ui the
dignity of his profession, though
he had foi-gotten all his learning,
ceased to take any delight in books,
and was nothing but a gardener, a
rustic, and a peasant-priest.
Our house, at the back of which
lay the farmyard, was a good-sized
six-roomed house, with a thatched
roof The windows in the front
looked out upon Rousdon bay,
which lay about eighty feet below
us. They opened on hinges, and
the small panes, many of which
I
/ ' ^
8
a
II !
'twas in Trafalgar's bay.
were biills'-eyed, were set in heavy
leaden frames. There was a fjroat
porch, beside w^hich flourished the
finest fuchsia-tree — ten feet high,
and ten feet across — tliat ever was
seen. There was a sloping garden
in front, where I grew beans, peas,
and cabbages, with all kinds of
simple flowers. We were quite rich
people. When the distress was
deep all over the country, we felt
none. We lived comfortably ; there
was no pinching, no talk of econ-
omies. I was well-dressed and well
cared for; the boys had all they
wanted.
To be sure, in those days, the
ideas of a farmer aa to plenty were
simple. We never had any holiday
or any change. The boys got a little
teaching, as I did, from the rector;
we had no newspapers and very
few books ; most country-people
could not read ; there wei-e no con-
veniences for travel ; things were
rough ; men were rough ; fighting
was common ; we were inconceiv-
ably ignorant ; we did not look or
hope for any change except for
peace. That was what we wanted.
I suppose the people of that gen-
eration ought to have been un-
happy, feeling themselves so great-
ly at a disadvantage compared with
their grand-children, who would
certainly have gas,railways, chloro-
form, electric light, cheap news-
pap' \s, all sorts of things. But
somehow they wei'e not unhappy.
They were just as happy, in fact,
as people are now, except for the
Avickedness of war, the ambition of
kings, and the injustice of man.
And these are things which seem
destined ever to plague, vex, and
trouble the world.
Now, the most remarkable thing
concerning Dan, his two sons, and
Jo.shua Mcech, his nephew, was
that their hands werealwaysbrown
with tar. There was, besides, a
smell of things connected with
boats always lingering about his
house ; and though fishing-nets
were constantly spread over the
garden or on the beach, there was
very little fishing done.
Dan, farmer though he was,
dressed habitually as a boatman.
On Sundays, in the summer, he
wore white ducks, a blue jacket
with brass buttons, and a straw
hat, just as if he was a navy man.
On other days, he wore great boots,
a simple blue shirt, and a tarpau-
lin. Down in the bay there were
three boats. One of these was a
safe, heavy-built fishing-smack.
Dan called her the Chace Mary. It
was a good many years befoi-e I
learned to recognize in this nan)e
the French chasse-mar4e. Dan
picked her up one night abandoned
in the Channel— his experience
decided her origin and her name.
The boys and Joshua used now
and then to go out fishing in her,
bringing home in the morning a
rich cargo of bright and beautiful
fish. We kept the best for our-
selves, and the rector never failed
to come lor his titho of JulmDory,
m ROUSDON BAY.
9
war, the ambition of
e injustice of man.
things which scera
;o plague, vex, and
rid.
st remarkable thing
1, his two sons, and
his nephew, was
3 were always brown
ire was, besides, a
;s connected with
ingering about his
bough fishing-nets
y spread over the
le beach, there was
ng done.
though he was,
illy as a boatman,
n the summer, he
cks, a blue jacket
tons, and a straw
s was a navy man.
le wore great boots,
lirt, and a tarpau-
he bay there were
no of these was a
ilt fishing-smack,
he Chace Mary. It
ny years before I
;nize in this name
asm-mai'^e. Dan
e night abandoned
1 — his experience
in and her name.
Joshua used now
)ut fishing in her,
in the morninff a
ght and beautiful
the best for our-
Bctor never failed
itho of John Dory,
bass, hake, pilchards, or m ickerel.
The rest went to Lyme to be sold.
The boat which lay beside the
Chace Mary was of very different
build. She would be called now,
though her ' os would no longer
find fa voir x fifteen-ton yacht,
sloop-rigged. I do not know where
Dan bought her ; she was long and
narrow ; she was decked ; she car-
ried any amount of canvas ; and
she was, as Dan often boasted, the
very fastest boat in the Channel.
She was called the Dancing Polly.
Hauled up on the beach was a
little dingy, gay with bright paint,
and provided with a neat lugsail
and a sjjritsail and a pair of sculls.
She belonged to me, but was, of
course, always at the service of
thr Firm.
For not to delay any longer a
confession which must sooner or
later be made, we were all of us
smugglers by trade, and farmers
by pretence. The ten acres of
barren cliff land could never have
kept us all during those hard
times, even in a poor way. We
were a gang of smugglers. Dan
was the head of the firm by
hereditary succession. His two
boys were partners by the same
right. Joshua Meech was a part-
ner by grace and free gift of Dan.
I, Pleasance Noel, was an accom-
plice, aider, and abettor.
In the reign of great George the
Third it was as impossible to make
people believe that sumo-o-lincr
r --- --1--^-, _,
was wrong as to make a rustic
believe in the wickedness of knock-
ing over a hare in a field. To evade
the duty was meritorious. Tlien
there was the romance about the
trade : perils surrounded it on
every side ; across the water you
might be caught by the French
authorities, and kept in {)rison, or
or even shot as a spy : or you might
be picked up by a French privateer;
or you might be cut out by a rev-
enue cutter ; or ycu might be ar-
rested while landing your cargo.
These things were considered and
went to make a daring smuiiuler
a sort of hero. Lastly, all the
country-side stood in with him.
It was he who brought over the
best French brandy, packages of
lace, boxes of gloves orof perfumes ;
he was the provider of otherwise
unattainable luxuries ; he was a
public benefactor. In no country
inn could you get such .spirits as
came out of the illicit kegs ; when
a landlord had any he would
whisper its recommendation to a
guest ; the squires bought it, the
magistrates bought it, the very
revenue oflicers bought it, the
clergy bouglit it, no one too
good, too highly placed, too scru-
pulous to buy it. A fine and flat-
tering perfume of universal grati-
tude perpetually soothed the soul
of Dan Gulliver ; the sense of an
heroic reputation added dignity
to a life which, if spent only on
the farm, would have been cer-
tainly monotonous, and probably
ignoble.
^
10
p
I 1
'twas in tfafaloar's bay.
Gratitude among the people na-
turally took the shape of coni-
pHcity. It sometimes happened
that Dan's carts— these innocent
carts laden with poultry, vege-
tables, or fish, which Jol> or Jeph-
thah drove into Lyme— were
stopped and searched. One would
think that Dan was regularly
warned, because nothing was ever
found in them. If the revenue cut-
ter chanced to look in at Rousdon
Bay, the Dancing Polly was lying
at anchor, without the least sign
of an intended run, and Dan
would be caulking the Chace
Mary or mending fishing-nets, or
painting the dingy, with a grave
face and a twinkle in his eye.
With a fast boat like the Dan- !
cing Polly with four such handy !
boatmen as the crew who manned
her, the chief danger was that of
landing the cargo. It was desira-
ble to know, before the run, Avhere
the revenue cutter was ; this in-
formation was got by myself, or
by one of the boys, from the boat-
men of the cove at Lyme, or
from the fishermen of Beer.
She might have been heard of
at Weymouth, or she might be
lying in Bridport. Once, when
we thought she was away up the
Solent, she came out of Lulworth
Cove, and chased Dan for three
long days, so that he only got
away without throwing his cargo
overboard, by fhe swiftness oi nis
heels and the providential inter-
i)u.sition of a fog. We had to get
news from Weymouth, from Swan-
age, Poole, Lymington, and Yar-
mouth, in the west; as from Beer,
Sidmouth, Ladram Bay, and Dart-
mouth. The revenue cutter once
ascertained to be out of the way,
there was little or no danger of
interference from any of the shore-
going folk.
When all seemed safe as regards
j the excise, and a run was resolved
I on, it was brave to see the little
craft, with Dan at the "helium,"
Job and Jephthah in the bows, and
Joshua 'midships, beating her way
out of the little narrow bay,
straight out into the blackness be-'
yond— for Dan never started ex-
cept at night, and when there was
a moonless sky. I would stand on
the beach, the wind blowing my
hair about and the spray flying in-
to my face, to get the last sight of
the gallant boat. Then I would
gohome and stay there,cjuite alone
till they returned, in a couple of
days or so, laden with the brandy
m kegs. I never had any fear for
them. Dan knew every inch of
the French and English coasts, he
could steer blindfold, he could find
Rousdon Bay in the blackest night;
he was not afraid, in his tight lit-'
tie craft, of any reasonable wea-
ther, provided only that when he
landed there were no revenue men
waiting to capture the hero of a
hundred runs.
Ban was always a sailor, in man-
IN ROUSDON BAY.
If
t fog. We had to get
eymouth.from Swan-
Lymington, and Yar-
e west ; as from Beer,
adram Bay, and Dart-
i revenue cutter once
be out of the way,
ttle or no danger of
Fromanyoftheshore-
ieemed safe as regards
id a run was resolved
ave to see the little
an at the "helium,"
thah in the bows, and
lips, beating her way
little narrow bay,
ito the blacicness be-
n never started ex-
and when there was
y. I would stand on
3 wind blowing my
1 the spray Hying in-
get the last sight of
at. Then I would
ly there, quite alone,
ned, in a couple of
in with the brandy
^er had any fear for
new every inch of
t English coasts, he
dfold, he could find
I the blackest night;
id, in his tight lit-
y reasonable wea-
^'nly that when he
sre no revenue men
ure the hero of a
ys a sailor, in man-
ner and dress ; Job and Jophthah
played two parts : when they wore
corduroys and a smock they were
farm-labourers, and slouched in
their gait, lifting their feet heavily
and swinging their shoulders, as
those do who go much upon clay ;
when they were on board they
were dressed like boatmen and
they rolled like sailoi-s. Joshua,
on the other hand, played three
parts. As a miller, he had the re-
putation of being grasping and
greedy of gain, but honest in his
dealings. In this capacity he was
always floury,like his men,andhad
it not been for the tar upon his
fingers, you would say he had
never smelt salt water. As a sail-
or he was as daring as Dan, almost
as skilful, and as hard to yield as
Job and Jephthah. But he had a
third character, which he reserved
for Saturday evening and Sunday.
Then he dressed himself in a black
coat, and became a Primitive Me-
thody ; one of a certain very small
body so styled by themselves, who
met in a chapel about twelve feet
square, and took turns to })reach
and pray. His methodism has no-
thing to do svith my story, except
to show the masterful character of
the man. He would be a leader;
he wanted people to think as he
told them, and he could only do
this in a dissenting chapel. Dan,
who accepted the authority of the
Rev. Mr. Burden, and the Church,
w,H.s, in his way, as religious as he
was honest. There is nothing, he
frequently aigued, Jigainst smug-
gling, either in Bible or Prayer-
book. At the four great festivals
of the Church he received the
Sacrament ; he slept every Suiulay
afternoon over " Holy Living and
D} ing/' and he kept, as I have
said, the roof on the parish church.
It was among these people that
I spent the first seventeen years of
my life. Such educaticni as I had
was given me by the Rector at
odd moments. I could read, but
had few books, and those I knew
by heart. They were Bunyan's
Pilgrim's Proiiress, Robinson (#ru-
soe, and one or two mo^-e. Writing-
I learned by slow degrees ; my
spelling has never, I own, been
correct, nor can I understand the
fuss which is made about that ac-
cou.plishment. If the writer's,
meaning is clear, why object to
the omission or the addition of a
letter or two ? There was little
encouragement to literature in
Rousdon Farm. Job and Jephthah
had learned, like my.self, to read
and write, but as they never prac-
tised either art, and supplemented
memory only by chalk-marks on
the cart, I suspect they had for-
gotten both. Dan regarded writ-
ing as useful for commercial pur-
poses, and reading on the Sunday
as an aid to devotion. In respect
to other uses, there were instances,
which he had heard of where a
passion for books actually led the
victim, by iuipercepLible degrees,
to the gallows. Certainly in those-
rrdi
(I
i I
%
fi t
L
12
'twas in TRAFALGAR'S BAY.
yours tlit'vo were many, many
roails, to that dismal tree.
I did not read much, my duties
at home were soon got through,
tlio rest of my time I spent ujfon
the water, alone or witli Dan, and
on the Undercliff. In the evening
there was sewing. But all day
Jong, and all the year round, rain
or sunshine, I was in the open air,
gathering flowers in the Holm-
bush fields, climbing among the
bracken under the Pinhay eliffs,
singing all alone in the woods up-
on the hill-sides, out upon the sea
in flhe dingy, or, in summei- bath-
ing and swimming where the rocks
hid me from casual eyes which
never chanced to pass that way.
It was a lonely place facing a
lonely sea ; few ships ever sailed
across that gi-eat bay save the
heavy craft which brought coal
from Wales, or the coasters which
traded from port to port, or the
fishing-craft from Lyme and Beer.
I had tlie sea all to myself when I
put out in the dingy, ran up the
little sail, and sat in the stern, til-
ler in one hand and rope in the
other, while the boat slipped
through the shuit crisp waves
with a nmrmurous whish, leaving
its little white track behind, while
my fancy ran riot, and I had vis-
ions, such as come to the young
and innocent, of a golden and
impossible future, lying among
figures indistinct and misty.
Sometimes I went with Dan to j
Lyme, where one could buy things
and see the shops in the street
and the ships in the cove. On
Sunday evenings, in summer, one
could sometimes go to Lyme
church, which was surely the most
remarkable and delightful chuj-ch
in the whole of England. To begin
! with, it was a church built on a
staircase. You climbed up some
of the steps and you were in the
churchyard. Moie steps brought
you to the porch, which was long
and deep ; at the end of it more
.steps again brought you to the
line of the nave; half-way up the
nave a short flightof steps took you
to a higher level under the pulpit
and reading-desk; a last climb
landed you on the level of the chan-
cel. I believe there were additional
■steps to the altar. This gradual
rising of tier above tier produced a
remarkable effect, especially if, as
I did, you sat in one of the gal-
leries. Wherever they could have
a gallery they did ; here one and
there one ; sticking them between
pillars, so as to produce a general
result, which, to the ignorant eye
of a girl, was grand and delightful.
One of the galleries was beauti-
fully decorated with a death's-
head and bones, and an appropriate
text. And they sang hymns.
They were taken very slowly, but
they were sung to real tunes,
which one could carry away and
sing at the top of one's voice far
out to sea in the little boat. The
hymns were set to the music of a
band consisting chiefly of stringed
IN KOUSDON BAY.
13
le shops in the street
lips in the cove. On
inin^r.s, in summer, one
etimes go to Lyme
eh was surely the most
and deliglitful church
3 of England. To begin
s a church built on a
iTou climbed up some
and you were in the
More steps brought
orch, which was long
t the end of it more
brought you to the
ave ; half-way up the
light of steps took you
3vel under the pulpit
•desk ; a last climb
1 thelevel of the chan-
there were additional
altar. This gradual
ibove tier pi-oduced a
ffect, especially if, as
it in one of the gal-
ever they could have
did ; here one and
3king tliem between
produce a general
to the ignorant eye
:rand and delightful,
tileries was beauti-
d with a death 's-
i, and an appropriate
hey sang hymns,
en very slowly, but
ng to real tunes,
Id carry away and
3 of one's voice far
e little boat. The
t to the music of a
chieiiy of stringed
instruments, tuned stealthily be-
tween the different parts of the
service. This was all the music
and these were all the tunes which
I heard as a child.
As for the times, we were al-
ways at war. During the whole
of my childhood, and for a good
many years afterwards, the talk
was all of war. For five-and"
twenty years England was fight-
ing. On the south coast the war
might at any moment become
more than a rumour ; there was
no reason why a French privateer
should not cross over and do what
mischief she could. Every day,
before breakfast, we all solemnly
looked out to sea — Dan with his
glass — to see if an enemy was
hovering over the coast, and once
we saw a naval action. The
Frenchman was a privateer; the
Englishman a brig of war carry-
ing twelve guns. They ran side
by side I'or awhile, firing inces-
santly, the Englishman gradually
reducing the distance. At last
they came to close quarters, and
our men boarded her. Oh what a
sight ! It was too far off" for us to
see the horrors of battle, the dead
and wounded ; but we could make
out, when the smoke cleared away,
thav/ the L^nion Jack was run up
where the French flag had been
flying, and Dan solemnly, with
tears in his eyes, thanked the God
of Victory. It was a brave and
gallant action ; they made the
commander of the brig a first-
lieutenant for it; then they sent
him out to Jamaica, where they
forgot him altogotlici-, althougli
he did plenty of other things quite
as good. 'I'his was the way they
used to treat our brave sailoi-s.
Thirty years afterwards he came
home, still a first-lieutenant, and
bald, by reason of the many men
who had climbed over his head.
Heavens ! how bxave our men
were, and what fights they fought !
They cut out French ships under
the guns of their own batteries.
They engaged vessels double their
own weight ; whenever they saw
an enemy's ship they attacked her.
The papers were full of naval ac-
tions, which were always victories.
I never saw the papers, but I heard
the news whenever Dan came
back fi'jm Lyme. Buonaparte
was going to invade England, and
made enormous preparations ; the
whole country took up arms,young
and old ; the war-fever possessed
the Britisl) bulldog. There was
no fear in our hearts, nor any
hesitation. Looking back upon
that time, I can only feel that
surely none other than the hand
of God was upon us ; how else
could we, fighting against such
odds as never any other nation
encountered, have fought so brave-
ly, and finished the struggle with
so much honour ?
1
14
1]
'TWAS IN TJ.AIALGAK'S BAY.
CHAPTER II.
LOVE THE LJNCONQUEIIED.
HAVE always kept as
a liolyday the 1 4tli of
August in every year
since the year 1803. It
IS .saere.l to nie for two meniorios-
the first being that on tliis day I
first saw my own gallant an.l true-
hearted Will.
It was about half-past four in
the afternoon. I was running
down the crags by a way known
J>nly to myself, breast-high in
bracken,, jumping from stone to
stone.singingatthe topof my voice
with flying hair and outstretclied
arms when I suddenly came upon
JJan Gulliver and a sti-anger
"I«aw,",.aid Will afterwards
when he became my sweetheart-
' i saw a tall girl of sixteen, who
might have been twenty, with blue
eyes and an oval face, the sweetest
tace m the woi-ld. She carried a
sun-bonnet in her hand, and she
wore a tight fitting frock."
" If I had known who was coin-
ing," I said, M .should have put on
uiy Sunday frock."
"^wi- Sunday frock! "he cried
in his foolLsh way; " why, what
could be more lovely than my
woodland nymph, flying to meet
us, up to her arms in the fern
bare-headed, her hands filled with
lowers, her eyes with smiles, and
her pretty mouth with a snncr
Sunday frock! Leave Sunday
irocks to city uirls.
See iniss and .uada.n lay their snares,
1 ainted faces,
Studied graces,
All for catching unawares
Flights of gamesome lovers."
But this talk came afterwards
When I met them in the path,
as I finished my run down the
slope,! stopped short, shame-faced
being unused to the sight of stran-
gers.
"Pleasance," said Dan, "this
young gentleman is coming to stay
awhile at the farm ; can you help
to amuse him, think you ?"
"I assure Miss Gulliver," said
the gentleman, taking ofl' his hat
to me, " that I shall give as little
trouble as possible."
" The boys," said Dan , " can
sleep at the cottage. Do'ee now,
Pleasance."
This was the old man's way I
was to seem the mistress, who
ought to have been the servant.
I turned, and led the way to the
house in silence. Truth to say I
was not best pleased with the pros-
pect of a strange man in the house
Like all wild things, I loved soli-
tude. Dan carried a valise and the
young man carried a wooden case
It was not till after we got home
and I had brushed my hair, and
put on another frock, and come
down stairs again, that I .saw
what manner of man our guest was
- o one must think that I was so
AY.
t'uck! Leave Sunday
ity girlH.
I inadain lay their snares,
faces,
graces,
iiig unawares
uesonie lovers."
tiilk came afterwards,
met them in the path,
J my run down the
ped short, .shame-faced,
d tothe.sightof.stran-
e/' .said Dan, "this
sman is coming to .stay
e farm ; can you help
11, think you ?"
Miss Gulliver," said
m, taking off his hat
I shall give as little
ssible."
■*," said Dan, "can
cottage. Do'ee now,
le old man's way, I
fclie mistress, who
been the servant,
d led the way to the
:e. Truth to say, I
leased with the pros-
?e man in the house,
hings, I loved soli-
•ied a valise and the
ned a wooden case.
1 after we got home,
ished my hair, and
1' frock, and come
gain, that I saw
'man our guest WHS.
ibink that I was so
LOVK THK UNCONQI'KIIKI).
I'y
presumptuous as to fall iu love
with him. What did F know about
h\e ? My heart leaped up, liow-
■ ver, becau.se I looked upon the
most handsome and splendid man
I had ever seen. To l)e sure I had
seen but few. The gentlemen of
Lyme Regis were mostly advanced
in life, and more or less had bottle-
noses, by reason of much rum.
This young gentleman was al)OUt
twenty-two years of age ; he was
tall and rather .slight in figure; his
eyes were brown, and from the
very first I saw that they were
frank, hone.st eyes ; his hair was
brown and curly ; his cheeks were
burned by the sun ; his fingers, I
noticed, were long and thin ; they
were, in fact, the fingers of a
mu.sician.
His wooden case was lying on
the table. I asked him if he would
have it taken upstairs,
" If I am allowed," he said, " I
should like to keep this ca.se down
here. And perhaps, Mr. Gulliver
" Call me Dan," said he ; " I'm
used to it. And this is my adopted
daughter, Pleasance Noel."
" Dan, then, and Miss Noel "
" Call me Pleasance," I said, im-
itating Dan, in order to show my
good-breeding. " I am used to it."
" Pleasance, then. My name is
William Campion. Perhaps you
would let me play to you some-
times ? "
In the case was a fiddle. This
wonderful young man could play the
fiddle. Now of all the instruments
of music which man has ever in-
vented for drawing forth the soul
of man, it has always seemed to me
that the fiddle is the most eHica-
cicnis. At the first stroke of the bow
I jumped in my seat and clasped
my hands. As he stood by the
window anil drew out the air softly
and sweetly, my s})irit hung upon
the notes, and for the time I was
in sweet heaven.
He only played one tune then.
When he had finished it, he laid
back the fiddle in its case. I
noticed with what tenderness, as if
he loved it.
" Did you like it, Plea,sance ? "
he asked. " But I saw that you
did."
Then I made tea, a luxury not
of every day — Job and Jephtliah,
who did not like tea, and were
modest, stayed in the farmyard
among the pigs — and after tea, Mr.
Campion, Dan, and I, all three
went down to the bay and talked
about boats. First we went aboard
the Dancing Polly, and Mr. Cam-
pion praised her lines, and then we
looked at the Chace Mary, and
tvhen there was notliinff more to
be said about either of these two
crafts, we got into the dingy and
went for a sail, I holding the tiller.
At eight, after the sun had set, we
got back again and went home. I
remember that there was cold
boiled hand of pork for supper,
and that Job and Jei>hthah, who
had polished up their faces with
i
HI
'i 111
I
i
16
'TWAS ,N TRAFALu^,,., „^v.
yellow ,0,,,, till they shone like I
"f l>W an,l ,,,vi„s ..ever „ w„,.,I ,, ' T " ""''"'■'•* '""■'•Pi|.e ,m the
H« rl^.yo,l half-a-fe,,, tuns rr° ""''"'"" '""•'' °"'""vhe^
^ow, on the viulin M,. <- ""-' •"''»» w,,,, ,lri,.,t Tl, m,?
I»-a,,ca,,.ie,,awayintotiZ. ; I"' ''» ^o'* W.-.^olfin a ilt
^faven fVon, the very be<.in„t ""'"' "»'"'°"«. " While the ral
J;:»t, ho played. "/a,.e;e r:^- "f T" "'' -"'''' "" - gTt"
" T" .to you, Spanish l„,|ies ' H """ "'"' »"« i' -i"' 1 .fm
- "Oh ,n,,pi,,d „„„ „i,, ^ ^;«; Heaven,, what an evening we had i
-A' of nat,.,.,„, p,ide and J^ct ' I > ^t™"" " "•^"■'^ of «k .■
for seafaring Britons. Nex he i >, ™'' ''"P''"""' «"™ Wk for
played, "Oh dear; w-hat ean i "■'""' "'^'"''■''J »ch other a, th
»att„. ..„,.. . ^' can the , song enjoined, with sy^p'ttj^
■snoulder-thwa»l,., 1
matter he » » ' • """ tno
"ew. at ea.,t to JJorsebhire folk
i Ins made us just a little t J.;„,
-Iputus in the right fran,e,::
tarly„,then,orning.justasth
,r.r '"'"S-" Then he played
town; the most delieious ditty^I
nave ever li^o,.^ xi "^
---waeksh.v^:—
Lastly, rny own turn came. The
musiemn stopped, and his expre,!
-ud.anged. He looked thought.
luUy f°"' a moment, and then still
-«.l..eyes«.edupo„me,"b;;l'l'
have ever heard, then or si ' ,i""-^ """■•' ""^ "ke of which I
After that he played "Jack' , I J "''™' '•^"'' »■■ Jreamed of
la.l." the song wLh they , at b"r'' T""" "^ ''^'"■' '^ ^^^ -y
"mce made into the College H™ „ *" '™'' "'y '^ye-s to swim
P.pe. It was then that Dan X a IITT' ''" ™"' """ "™ k
,t' •'-""""'""S - whenever he dil " t f ""'™"''^-P"™h ^ ^^
happened to know a word or two k „d" f 'P'""'™"> fo'' ^is
f the song, nodding his head all still """^ ' ''* "'<• •''P^thah
'-»« time With his pip, la'idi;' ;:i rft^hr f'tr'/ -'-
"«"■ i iiad a strange
V.
Htan.Iin^. up. soloninly
on.etf.in^r ,li.stantly re.
;aiIor',s hornpipe on the
V\^'"t on i,h,yin. it,
Shm his oje,s, fuHter
;" the enthusiasm
'l"tl.ah and Job, vv}u)
tch other y,iiti]v, an.l
^'•o«»'an(lroti,.,,it„tho
'"yard, where I saw
^' 'noonli^d.t gn,vely
'S't« c'aoh othei- wliere
s driest. Then WiJJ
""e, and played, sing.
' l>iniself in a lusty
'ne, " While the rag-
'■«ai-." Dan caught
1 sang it with him.
an evening we had!
" Hearts of oak."
hah came back foi-
3cJ each other, as the
with .sympathetic
k« heavy enough to
^n turn came. The
J, and his expre.s-
re looked thought-
-nt, and then, still
'^ upon me, began
'e like of which I
or dreamed of;
eart to beat, my
' eyes to swim,
pipe, and drank
■andy-punch ; he
irently for this
^ and Jephthah
*%> and, I sup-
I had a strans-e
I
LOVE THE UXCONOrRRFD.
17
and (l.'liglitful sensetlwit this mu.sic
was being phiye,! for myself alone ;
that the musician took this way of
putting thoughts into my head
which had never been there before.
I felt a pa.ssionate y«Nirning for
Hf'ncthing unknown. 1 was in
some new place of light and beauty
inconceivable ; my spirit rcso witli
a kind of raptu^s I was out of the
body, floating in tlie air: there
wore no words in which I could
clothe this new sensation. I could
have wept for very joy, but no
tears came. Presently i t seemed as
if my feet were moving in cadence
and my whole frame undulating
with the waves of melody. I could
bear it no longer, and should have
fallen, but that Dan caught me
with a "Steady, pretty, steady;
going to sleep with the music in
your ears ? "
I was not going to sleep, indeed.
But Mr. Campion ceased playino-,
and told me that it was a German
dance.
Nearly all thatnightllayawake, i
wondering what new world was
this into which I had got a glimpse.
And when I slept it was to dream
of strange delicious things, clothed
in shapes new and delightful.
It appeared next morning that
Dan's idea of entertaining the
guest was to hand him entirely
over to me. All the others, to be
sure, had work to do. He was
easy to amuse when one got over
the first shyness ; and he was so
good and thoughtfLd that the shy-
ness very socmdisappearod. Cei-
tainly. 1 had plenty to show him ;
tlit^reweri! all kinds of sylvan wny,s;
there was the Underclirt', where
they had just been cutting tlie
brown f(;rn foi- litter, and left open
spaces for fresh green gi-as,s to
glow. It was covered, too, with
its autumn robes. In August there
were the delicate pale yellow
flowers of the Traveller's Joy, the
red berries of the lowan, the
bunches of blackberries, as yet
only red, the tall purple thistles,
and the crimson fox-glove. It was
something to have the Undercliff
to show a stranger. Or we might
walk along the cliff itself to Axe-
mouth, Seaton and Beer; or we
might go inland along Colway
Lane to Up Lyme, where we could
find valleys and wootls, and broad
stretches of corn-grown hillside ;
or we might go fishing in the calm
evenings or early mornings ; or we
might up sail and slip along the
coast to Lyme, Charmouth, or even
Bridport, should the wind hold
fair.
Surely, of all delightful com-
panions that any girl had, mine
was the most delightful. He was
always happy ; nothing ever ruf-
fled his temper ; he was satisfied
with our simple way of life ; he
seemed to want nothing else than
to go about all day long with me ;
he never tired of playing to us in
the evening ; he even encouraged
my ignorant prattle, whicli must
have seemed to him so silly, and
IN
I
i
""*>"«» of the ^,,.„t w,,,.,,/*"
" i<»0('r , ho cdino vvli,.n tu
«/«., ,• . 'Vficn tno corn
a, ?kn ^atheml I lived, fo, 'J
't wo«M last for ever. "'^'"^'
Tho (..^inning of trouhJe came
Wo were so J.appy, j^^
••^'th our new fnVnrl ,. „?
h-rrlly noticed the s L /'
tl.at Jo,hua, ,vl,o i,a,| l,„^, J^l
l-o week with „,s, had o„l,..,i,rM
"^ onco since Mr n ■ ''^"^^f
An., that ::" ■/ '"xr""
P'»t Playe,l ho ^t lol^:^.,Z
«n<l .ll-te,„pe,.„rl. One .la/i'o "
j;--ti:ST:holsi
•■-«l.ua. mill. It eertainly wl"
ep.ett,o»t of all „,,,,,, ,^,™;
-e.oin,t:'e::-^^:;'[;;^^
;;;■•»" -■■'■yyou.-ou'daS'una
till you fly off and a.-okille,l.
f"IIIIYo»-fthe«,hfa;:
and iovely watermil].
. ^'"'''*; ^^'^'-^ ^as a square build ^
' °*; .^* «°n«^«ted of two parts
one be.ng the mill and the S
te CO t,^e, in which Joshua lived
^^' ^y '-aself. In the nul, was a
'^^•^« 'N TiUK.,.n.„'.S B.V
^'"7 «»'J two windows ononl
«n'Jonohoiow .,.,••"" '^''<no
b was an unc ershof ui. i
twenty feet in <i; / ^'"'''^'
H i..-o„«ht „i„, "i, " ''° ?-
ft'^^^t wide ,„l] r "*' '""
the r, ' ""••'"'li'insly over
'he sound „f . .,'""" "le house
g.indi '',""*"<""'-'•. tl.e
'^-' •'o^inrt '?;„tr f;-"""
""""11. Atthebarfu '"
(»"'' 'he red eido , ' '""^
r.oa,a„^,i;"':„y'™ looked
^^yond theorchnrr] ,.
^ Cf :7at "'™ ~- a^
damp among the L '""?«'«»
-1e of wCh waa T' ''^ "-^
aWer-tree..„„dS„d 7'".°'
a<lark.deepwoodir„ I'f'''^"
; ""gilt peer all „"''"'' •>'»"
N'-mCu'nl:::™r'''^aya„d
'»ade a .nagniflclnt 1 T ■""'^
and reconciled to ,h ^ ■'°"'"'
'-offtogetherltVeTto'''^^
-K^h'andmcrrVrtrr'"
vo H-,n.I,.w.s. one ahov.
'"^- Atthoon.Iof the
*.«'> '""I.THliot Mlioel
'"tiiau.,.ter, uJiid, nil'
^'"^0 loiind and
^7'^v'atoroftl.env,.-
,"'';"^' '■" '^ leat two
'^- •neJ<ulio,,sIy ov,.
'^ ^f'^' l^'iokets. and
^"■"-•^; ^vJuvi hy its
'/^■''"" tf.0 water
t''f- whoel ^rrunted
"'.,^'thin the house
;'>;' arul lahonr, the
'""^'' and gnjntinrr
^ ^ """'^ Nor wan
f ^ack of the mil]
'. where th* fn^
t'er appJcs Jooked
, ^"''^^^ not Jook
1 the orchard was a
e« you came to a
'' ^J'ich was dry
^or a JittJe green
'e stones, by tJ.e
vas a coppice of
•eWnd the alders
^, into which you
"•;"ner'.sdayand
Jnngs.
louse the winter
eat united and
3nt laslier, into
'Oiled and bub-
be^ow Niagara,
■S- When :he
^^-Jrly joined
'e union, they
'■ the stones in
y rivulet.
I.OVE THK UNrON(;UKiiKI)
10
We t'niiiid Joshua standing at
the dooi- • he was covori'd nil over
witli flour, lis becomes the sol)ur,
hard-working miller, looking as if
iiiHthoughts never ran on anything
more venturous than saoK ^foorn
Mild the everlasting grunting of his
waterwhrel. When he saw us,
liowevcr, his facecloudei^ over.and
instead of eojning to greet us be
retired within the mill.
I ran to the door and called him
out. He came, scowling at Will,
who was seated on a trunk of a
I ree
"Are you going to stay long in
these parts, young gentleman?" he
asked.
There was something in bis tone
which Will '-esented.
"Perhai)slsball," he said shortly.
"It depends, I suppose," said
Joshua, " on how long you like to
dangle about with a young frirl.
We don't like London ways in this
part of the country."
Will flashed red.
"We will discuss this subject
when the young lady is not pre-
sent ? " he said.
" I shall bo glad of an oi)i)or-
tunity,"said Jo.shua slowly. "Why,
there, that's spoke like a man.
Maybe I can get round to Rousdon
in the evening."
I ought to have known, but J
did not, what this meant.
You see, it was a fighting time.
If common men quarrelled with
each other, or with gentlemen,
tln-y hml it out at once with tists
*>•• 'M'^'terstaft: (Jentlemen fought
with pistols. Friends an<l .seconds
N»iw (air play.
^\ Wl ,, V-t, wns going to fight
Joshir. Vb;ech.
I " VVIiat does he mean ?" I a.-kt<tl
pre.sently, when wo h»d h^ft oixv
^»lky Joshua, and w.m walking
in the meadow beside the aldei^
trees. "Wb.-.t does he mean by
•langling with a young girl { T am
the young girl, I suppf.so."
" I suppose you ;ue, Plea,sanco "
ho replied. "Sit ,lown on this
«tile and I will tell you whnt he
means."
I sat on the upper bai- - f the
«tile. Will on the second step, and
he looked up in my face with those
«nuling, steadf;i,st yes of his, which
always went straight to my heart.
" Joshua Meech niean.s," he be-
gan, "that some moi take a delight
in stealing away -iri's hearts,
ospeciallycountry-gi, s' hearts,and
then leaving thein."
I did not quite uudc i-stand.
"Don't o])en your , .retty blue
eyes too wide, Pleasane •," he went
on; "I will explain 1- an illus-
tration. Now listen :
"Ever so long ago there was a
young girl, about sixteen years of
age, your age, living in th. (juntry
by the seaside, with a j !iy old
sailor and his two sons, just as yon
have been living. She was ;i pretty
girl— aspretty— as pretty- as you
She had the same blue eye ^, the
20
Haniesw.etface,the,same ruby lips
the same smile, ami the snmel./ht
brown curls, and I think she w^-e
the same sort of straw hat"
"Oh Mr. Campion!" For all
;^^^a sudden I found ouf-ln.^
noi'I^T 'T '' '""^^ ^^^« Ji^ed
mil /^^T''""^"'^^^-^-
m'i ■ I think he was a jealous
austere creature, but he was in love'
^vith this girl."
What did he mean ?
" Then there came from London
a young man who carz-ied a fi.ldle
-^^1 payed it. He was quite a com!
monplace young man, who ha.l no
vrtues except that he was fond of
his fiddle. He came into tlCun
'TWAS IN TRAFALGAB'S BAr.
try intending to be nZ 7 'T "'' '''^- ^«« ^an onj^
•sail and fish and ir^''^^ P^'^""'^^^^^ to marry „fe
. '' ^"^ "^ake mus e all "Rnf ,..i,„. •„ £ "^'
to taself. He found, i„.,tea„ of
" This young man found her so-
c ety so delightful that he stay'l
If he did not care ever to go away
agam-unless-unless she would
go away with him."
Then I understood that he had
been makin<v un a linh^ >■ ,
himsolf ^P^'^'^^^'^tory about
'Jimhojl: jind me nnr] T , i
wh«f I ,' '^"^* ^ wondered
wi at else he meant. I suppose I
looked bewildered. ^ ^
"% dear, my dear, do you not
understand me r- he caugi both
;;;y hands, and pressed thcLtohis
P'- ^^^^""ot understand me?
^-ant you to promise to be my
" Your wife, Mr. Campion ? but
you are a gentleman" "^
youhke?f''""^^^"^'--H
you iike me to go away ?"
I shook my head, and the tears
, came into my eyes. '' j
' ly'T,7^^^« being with me? »
^t.s, -lanswered.quitefranklv
much." ^ ""'^^^ ^°" ^e^y
"How should you feel if ^.^u
^l^^-hatyouwouldneverseeC
I shuddered.
"le stay. \^ou can onlv do flia+ u
promising, in .»„ ^ . ^^^^ V
J^ut what wiJl Dan say V
^^^a„ „,,. agree. Say. a,„ I to
plel*"^' "-■ ^-J'-™- -^ you
Then he took mo to his arms
and held me tight, and ki,,ea™e'
agam and again on the Hps j
-e.nyse,ff..omhin.,ahasLtl
Plodgod to each other. I ^l *n
you exactly what wo will do ••-
H-ntspill, my partner. y'„ ^
'-™ the thing. „,,ieh you h t '
HAY.
I
yo" to promise to be my
LOVE THE UNCONQUERED
• ^ife. Mr. Campion ? but
^gentleman."
n> little innocent; would
me to go away ?"
■ ^«y head, and the tears
my eyes.
i like being with me ?»
answered.quite frankly
ere was nothing to con-
e being with you very
lould you feel jf you
^ou would never see me
•ed.
aaway, unless you bid
u can only do that by
' marry me."
^ will Dan say ?"
agree. Say, am I to
'I one hand, but he
Campion, if ^qu
;ok me to his arms,
'gilt, and kissed me'
m on the lips, till I
m him, abashed and
re all my own," he
M yours. We are
other. I will tell
cit we will do "
eplan complete in
^'^^^ go up to Lon-
live with John
^rtner. You shall
which you have
;o learn ; and then, when you are
externally to all the world what
-ou are now to my eyes alone, I
■ill take you to my mother, and
|say to her: 'Mother, this young
lady from Dorchester is going to
|be my wife.' "
"Your mother!" My heart sank
|a little.
Yes. By the way," he added,
with a laugh, " she is very partic-
ular about family and rank; what
shall we say?"
"My father's rank was ship's \
carpenter," I said simply. '
He laughed. "We will tell her I
the exact truth, and ask her if she '
would find a lovelier girl among
the bluest blood. I forgot to tell
you that my mother is blind."
Then holding my hand in his, he
began to tell me all about himself
and his mother.
He was an only child. His father
was a city merchant, whom the
king knighted during his year as
lord mayor. He was Sir Godfrey
Campion. His motherwas awidow.
She lived in the City, and lold me
m the square of Great St. Simon
Apostle. He would be himself, in
two years, by his father's will, no-
minally the senior partner in the
house of Campion & Co., of Lon-
don, BrisfoL aDvl Jamaica. But
•JcnnHuntspill would do the work
"I shouM liketo tell you another
thing, my dear," he said. "My
mother and I parted in anger. She
—one must not think ill of one's
mother— but she does not remem-
21
ber that I am nearly twenty-three
years of age. We quarrelled on
account of my violin. She thinks
a fiddle only fit for an Italian mu-
sician, for a bear-leader, or for
sailors ashore. Above all, she
thinks it unsuited to the head of
a City house. Perhaps it is, but
then you see I never wanted to
play the fiddle in the office. And
then— well— then— there was a
scene one evening. My dear mo-
ther has a high spirit; and when
she came to comparing her son—
the fiddle-scraping son— with his
late father. Sir Godfrey Campion,
and when that son declared that
the comparison was not fair, and
one thing led to another ; why-
there is nothing strange in the fact
that the son resolved to take his
fiddle into the country for awhile.
That is how I came here."
" Yes," I said, trying in my ig- \
norant, country way, to realize
what all this meant— the lord may-
or, knighthood, and the rest.
' " Was your father an admiral ?"
I asked at length
He stared for a moment, and
then burst out laughing. Of course,
he always laughed at everything.'
Years afterwards I asked him how
it was he did not lose patience
with so much ignorance.
"Lose patience?" he asked in
his silly, delightful way, " it all
helped to make me love you the
more madly."
Now, it was not such very great
ignorance, after all, because f had
22
H !
heard Of ad„,i,uJ,„h„,,,,^l^
that all men who were called sir
were admirals.
There is o„e thing which no
woman can ever understand-
what U. sin her. and her alone,
that makes a man fall down and
""■■f 'P her. I „as the n^ost
'■rWAS IN TEAFALOAR'S BAY.
. "".'^g'™ J"*'.aadr„bbin.
h«™d, wrth a cheerful chuckle
Joshua any grndge, and yet at tl
" ws. we all congratula^d ou
-v^ and the victor. I am aim"
^hamed now to think that Wi
wa, more glorious in „,y eyes tha,
There could be no fiddling tha
ovenmg, and Dan had a doubh
ration of J,™ „.i . """h
he mked the b;^-:: ' It "T"'' """ ^^ '>^^
"■hole life ontheThancethat I "^"""f ^^dy-punch.
should become wHat he imagined m„ ^ ' '° """^o days was „
".e to be already. My hearth Iks m W ''"'"'' '" '^ """''^ life. I
»t.llw,tha,ortofhumiliatirt 2 r™' "' "^ ~
thmk how unworthy of that true f T "''^ '•""«'■'• "d » gentle-
"»d loyal gentleman I was. You ed T"' '"^'"^ ^ P-t of h s
r" --'■ Presently, of what thin" "t'TT
i was capable. " ^"t [ waj, anxious that there
We went home at length, hand next davV° "f '''°°''' ""^ the
■n hand, across the fields. Will T,: T! *™' over to the miU
said nothing to Dan, and we Wi '°^<!'' f^hua.
'7 '^'J J""' as usual, only that" I I ba«»! ^»'i "1 ' Sood deal more
M'Hs silftnf -^ o'l' X I Dattered than Will'« t+
1 . . ^^* '^^ -it was evi
^vas silent,
Ju the evening Will went out
accompanied by the two boys I
1-d quite forgotten about Joshua,
and wondered a little at his leav-
ing me.
Jt was dark when they came
^-k^ Will had his left hand t^d
;ound with a pocket-handkerchief
- nght eye v.as black, and he'
^ad got a, gash across his cheek.
He had been fighting Joshua
Meech and he had left, as I after-
wards learned, that hero senseless
on the ground.
Jephthah— or was it Job ?— an
nounced the battle and its result
1 , ,, ••^'*o. J. c was e VI- 3
dent that he had taken punisl
ment manfully. He asked m„ "
gomtohisownroomforata"k.
pose » ;V°"'' ^^''""'''- I ap-
pose I began, « that makes yo„
hght a strange gentleman?"
"What's a fitrht?" 1.
"Thafs nothin^tith ^
offl's '^•,^:iS-^fdapair
vv men makes It worse."
What IS worse, Joshua ? "
" Now, no more fooling Plea
«ance.l<.u listen to me. No good
comes of young gentlemen dfng
l^ng with young gi.,. Besides I
wont have it. He's ^ot to .o "
;v\.
S BAY.
';e give Joshua a drubbin..
i, with a dieerful chuckle
"' °o one in that house boiv
^ any grudge, and yet at the
we a]] congratulated our-
ind the victor. I am almost-
d now to think that WilJl
^•egloriousinmyeyesthan
LOVE THE UNCONQUERED.
28
^ could be no fiddling that
; ^'^d Dan had a double
t brandy-punch.
5^* ;« <^hose days was n
isode m a man's life Jt
'««ur at any moment,
^y fought, and a gentle-
Qed boxing as part of his
I.
was anxious that there
3 no bad blood, and the
i went over to the mill
hua.
; was a good deal more
ban Will's. Itwasevi-
J'^ liad taken punish-
""^iy- He asked me to
own room for a talk,
'our politeness, I sup-
mh " that makes you
nge gentleman ? "
«;.%ht?" he replied,
thing neither to him
He's a well-plucked 1
s ever handled a pair
Inch makes it worse."
worse, Joshua ? "
' more fooling, Plea-
.stentome. No good
ung gentlemen dang-
«ng girls. Besides, I
• He's got to o-o."
" You won't have it ? ''
" No," he said, banging his hand
n the table. " I won't have it.
'here. You've got to be my wife."
I'vegot— to— be— your wife?"
0' course you have. I've told
Dan long ago. Why, I've been
saving up for it. these ten years.
Next Easter Sunday I mean to
marry you."
I only stared.
" Don't think, Pleasance, that a
man can't love a girl because he
hasn't got his mouth stuffed with
fine words. Gar! it makes one
sick to think of it. I\'e loved
you since you were a child. And
he shall go."
"He shall not go, Joshua," I
stiid. "And I will never, never
marry you. Remember that."
" He shall go," he said, firmly.
" One way or the other he shall
go. Don't make me desperate,
Pleasance. He shall go. Now
you know what to expect, behave
accordinsr."
I sprang to my feet and rushed
out of the cottage. The man's set
lips and steady eyes frightened
me.
I told Will. But he laughed at
my fears. What was Joshua to
him? At the most there could
only be another fight.
Joshua came no more to the
farm, and I did not see him again
till the trouble came upon me and
mine.
- And now I must leave the plea-
sant time, when every day brought
some new happiness and some
fresh brightness with it, and come
to the story of that trouble.
It was partly my own fault.
One day— we had been sailing
to Ladram Bay and back in the
little boat; we had just beached
her, and were sitting on the peb-
bles hand in hand.
"What does Dan do," asked
Will, "with two boats?"
" The Chace Mary is the fishing-
boat," I replied, "the Dancing
Polly is for the runs to France."
" The what ? " cried Will.
"The runs over for the brandy
you know. Why, she is the fast-
est boat that ever crossed the
Channel."
Will listened with a bewildered
face. Presently he laughed.
" So Dan is a smuggle)-, is he ?
Crafty old man ! "
"Why," I said, with pride
"everybody knows that Dan i,s
the boldest smuggler along the
coast. They've given up trying
to catch him now."
"Oh ! And Job and Jephthah ? "
" They go too, of course."
"And— and the jealous amo-
roso, Don Joshua, does he tro
too?" ^
"Yes, he goes too. They all
four go."
Will whistled.
" Shade of my sainted father ! "
he said. " Was it for this that you
brought your son up in pious
hatred to the illicit traffic which
interfered with your own gains ? "
PR ^
24
m
i
1
f
1 •
.^1
i
I did not understand one word
of what he said.
''I vvil] explain," he said. « Mv
fa her made his fortune and mine
chiefly by rum. Rum is a rival to
brandy. Great numbers of the
'^appy children of Ham-who as
mymotherbelieves,arebyDivin'
ordmance subject to the chil!
dren of Japhet-toil in Jamaica
for the house of Campion and Co.
We provide the British public
with red noses, speckled noses, bot-
in theT r'' ""'^ «^-Ik-stones
m the hands. That is our work
m the world. We flog slaves, „
order that ^,to„3 may get dr^nk
on health-givmg rum. And we
pay duty. What are we to think
of a n,an who runs over brandy
which may be sold cheaper than
^m> and is more wholesome?
How do you think I have been
trained to regard such a man"
And now to feel that I have not
only been staying in such a man's
house, but that I am engaged to
- adopted daughter-anf th
yo lyS'^^"^^^"'^^^^-^"
'TWAS IN TRAFALGAR'S BAY.
CHAPTER III.
A LUCKY RUN.
ROM the moment Will
heard about the smug-
gling he began to get
restless and would fol-
ovv Dan down to the beach, a
talkwhile he looked after the-)oa
I knew that he was pumping Dar
adventures out of him-a^-oce
t>y no means difficult. Dan
anecdotes were chiefly of narro^
escapes; not from revenue cuttei
orp„vateers,sorpuchasfromsea
*ogs Once m a thick fo^ h.
rf P"^ «^^-aight into Bridpor,
Harbour, there being at the Z
only a hght breeze from the south!
east, and a revenue c^:tter, armed
and manned, lyi„,^i,hin;herw
Pers, ready to give him and his
cargo a warm welcome. Another^
trme he had to heave overboard '
the whole of his cargo, almost un
del thevery nose of his pursuers.
He knew the whole of the French
coast, from Dunkerque to St. Malo,
and was known in every port
He would drop along the^shore
hugging the land, so as to look Is'
"'"ch as possible like a fishing-
«mack, till he arrived at his desl-
nation; when you may be sure, he
took verylittle time to load U
go away again. Or there were
tales of heavy seas and stiff sou '-
westers. Dan was sixty years of
age or thereabouts at this time
and l„s memory carried him back
for half a century of smuggling
His father before him, and hh
grand-father before him, had been
yeomen of Rousdon, like himself,
and like himself, mainly depen-'
dent on the illicit trade.
Now, there was hardly any-
thing more likely to excite the
S BAY.
'an down to the beach, am
hile he looked after the -)oat,s.
^ that he Avas pumping Dan
^ures out of him-a proces
means difficult. Dan's
tes were chiefly of narroAv
; not from revenue cutters
^■teers, so rpuch as from sea-
->nee m a thick fog ho
put straight into Bi-idport
'' ^^^^6 being at the time
ght breeze from the south-
l a revenue c^'tter, armed
ned, lying within the two
ady to give him and his
^arm welcome. Another
had to heave overboard
' of his cargo, almost un-
'^nose of his pursuers
the whole of the French
I Dunkerque to St. Malo
known in every port'
drop along the shore"
le land, so as to look as'
possible like a fishing-
he arrived at his desti-
en you may be sure, he
!ittle time to load and
?ain. Or there were
vy seas and stifle sou'-
an was sixty years of
eabouts at this time,
iory carried him back
^ntury of smuggling,
before him, and his
before him, had been
)usdon, hke himself;
fiself, mainly depen-'
licit trade.
A LUCKY RUN.
25
' was hardly any-
~eJy to excite the m
magination of a town-bred youth
ihan a ' 'e of a successful and
lazardous run. The romance,
luch as it was, of highwaymen
vas over. There were still plenty
'f them, and they were always
langed when they were caught ;
that they were not without
ome glory. But, considered as
eroes, they had had their Jay.
'he degenerate successorsof Claude
'uval were either desperate mur-
erers, like the Blacks of Waltham,
'r they were poor, commonplace,
•agged footpads. But the smug-
gler—the man who encountered
;he dangers of war, and storm, and
'f the revenue officers— was still a
lero. So that Dan leaped at once,
■in the estimation of Will, from a
good-natured, cheerful old sailor to
the level of a sea-king. And this
despite the young man's early
training and prejudice.
Then came evenings in which
after the violin had discoursed, we
sat round the fire and talked of
nothing else but old trips and
their results. Countless were the
questions put by Will— questions
as to the French coast, the French
people, their ways, and their man-
ners ; as to the boat, and the navi-
gation of the Channel ; as to the
danger and the delight of running
fifteen knots an hour, everything
made snug and taut, carrying all
canvas, with heavy seas washing
over thi gallant little craft. I
never thought what might happen,
I had lived so long in an atmo-
sphere of carelessness to danger
that I had quite ceased to believe
in any danger. And when Will
begged Dan to take him too when
he made another run, I laughed
and clipped my hands, to think
how he would enjoy it.
Dan made difficulties. He said
it was not a young gentleman's
work ; that his lady mothft- might
get to hear of it; that things might
happen ; that he should never be
easy in his mind afterwards if
anything did happen. Finally,
over-persuaded by the eagerness of
the young man, he acceded to his
request.
We were then in the cold even-
ings, about the middle of October,
and in the last few days of a waning
moon. The weather was fine and
open, with a steady south-westerly
breeze springing up most nights
towards sunset, and lasting till late
the next morning. Dan went over
to the mill to consult with Joshua,
who readily resigned his place to
Will, on the conditioxi of not losing
his place in the profits, should the
venture be successful. I took this
kindly of Joshua. I thought he
must have passed into a better
frame of mind, although he had not
been once to the house since the
day he threatened me.
Everything being arranged, and
the weather favourable, they went
on board at eight in the morning.
I was in the dingy, carrying things
""•""• • •'"i-^iOrwaiUo;u.iiu vv'iien
Dan was satisfied that nothing had
l?7| I 'f'l
P^s/
illff;
I fi
26
'TWAS JN TRAFALGAR'S BAY.
he Dancing PoJi^ ^lip ;ut hf ' ''r 'r k. .
% and glide i„fco the dark „.^ *^°"^^^ ^^ ^''^^ been drinkin;
ness, while Will Jeaned over the .7?^^ ""''^ ^^^'^^''^^ ^"^ ^looc
taffrail and waved a farewell to f" V '' '^'' ^^ ^"'^ ^^ich wer
"^«- "" f*?^ ^^««e togrether and too small
It was nothing unusual for me fi ^^'' T ^^^^^rted, and hi.
to sleep alone in the house. There T''"^''^'^ ""''^^^^^y together
wasnotangerofrobbersinsosP •..• ^^ ^'' ^'''""•" ^e asked,
«^ded a spot as Rousd^and ^"^ ^^ ^^«'« -^^le, with a sort
therf^ 11.QC o7 ' ana ) or groan.
fK^„ f ^^uusaon, an(
the e „,, ^„^y, ^ ^ .
techon m the fact of old W
Agus and hi. wife sleeping iX
cottage hard by. I had n„ feat
tlr.ffTi""- fhadleftoff
Ves," I replied, fearing he wa«
come for no good. "They put out
at eight. Now, Joshua, if you have
anythmg to say, have done with
It at once and go."
"I'vegotthistosay.-herepUed
thinking of myself, ,„,, ,^;"°f . "I'^got this to say," he repUed
i" day and ail night, of Wl' T^'^' " ^'"^ ^"'" ''yi"? to
That n,ght, for the fi„t time Iwa' P"*,/'" ™' °" "-^ "'"''.and I
t'».d. I thought of the IMetr T t '^''"■' "■■■ ^^P-"- 'hat
;aih„g across the black Channel to '''•".°,^™« •>«■■- and take away
the enemy's coast. J conju"" un "^ T' '
the dangers. Buonaparte migh? T. i'"T ''^ >">«■• S"''. Joshua."
catch them ; he was at Boulofne I"" '^""''^ ''"™ '"^^''- I'd ««t
then, preparing for the invasion o 2 T ^ "^ ^"'^ ^^ *-" ^^
England, with every ship craft y ^''"' ""™' ^'^ " 'Wng that
boat of any kind which he oouM V™"'"'' "^ ^ '^''' "»' S^t. IVe
collect together. The DancW ^Tf '?''''' *" '"'"^ >'» "d
at f.T,f' '"^."P'-'-^yapriv^ l^,?"^ *'"' y""' -d I will
ateer ; they might be arrested on ^ .'w,,
""«!'•■■"■"•■ ' ™ you ?"Ilaughed. "Never"
tho T?^ il *' ai rested on
wieck d irS"'^^ ""^'" ^
wiecked. I thought of every dan-
ger except the one most likely to
happen that they might meet thei.
difficulhes on the retu™ voyage
Don t think I shall be an un-
kind husband, my pretty," he said,
with a sudden change of voice and
lanner. " I love you too well I
shall wrap you up warm and .ive
you nothing to do, only m°ake
afraid, and while I sat K.f T^ •^°" '^^^'^^^g ^r
«;econJuringup\L:lt?p^: "^'.a^y/' ' ""'•' '""'''
^;ble disasters, I heard a step on Th' ' '''"'^"'■" ^ -H "go
«de, the latch was lifted,' ::d L?X" T""""""""*™- '<"■ one
T am
goin- 1,0 marry Mr.
t
3 BAY.
1 Meech showed himself ,
A LUCKY RUN.
27
or.
ought he had been drinkino
es were haggard and blood-
^hose eyes of his which wen.
!e together and too smaJ]
e was distorted, and hisj
tvorked nervously together
y are gone?" he asked,
m Dan's settle, with a sort
I.
" I replied, fearing he wa^i
■no good. "They put out,
Now, Joshua, if you have J
■ to say, have done with
' and go."
fot this to say," he replied
"I've been trying tol
out o' my mind, and l'
ho's Mr. Campion, that
ne here and take away
rwasyourgirl, Joshua."
ould have been. I'd set
>nit. And you shall be I
never was a thing that
IS I did not get. I've
ked to marry you and
't you, and I will
1?" I laughed. "Never"
'ink I shall be an un-
d, my pretty," he said,
^n change of voice and'
- love you too well. I
ou up warm and .ive
: to do, only m!ake
py-
shua," I said, "go.
h foolishness for one
&""ip; t,w marry Mr.
'ampion. Do you hear? I am
:oing to be his wife."
"If you won't listen to fair
ords," he said, springing to -his
'eet, "listen to foul. I've triven
ou one more chance. It's your
last. Will you give up :,hat young
.opinjay ? "
" No, I will not. Go ! "
"I've warned you," he said,
'and I'm desperate. Whatever
happens, mind, it will all be on
'your own head. Whatever hap-
pens, you done it."
I had no suspicion, not the least
shadow of suspicion, of what he
meant. If Joshua's >nger made
me fear anything, it was that he
might attempt some desperate
deed of personal violence. At the
same time, I was disquieted, and
I longed for the return of the
boat.
They sailed at eight, as I have
said, [f the breeze continued
steady, they might reach the coast
of France in the morning. Sup-
posing that all went well, they
would receive their cargo in a few
hours, and should be back in the
early morning of the following day
—say from one to three o'clock,
before daybreak. But that depend-
ed entirely on the wind.
All next day I was in a kind of
fever. I could fix my thoughts
on nothing. I said to myself:
" Now they are stowing away the
kegs ; now Will is laughing with
the Frenchmen — of course he
would laugh wherever he was;
now Jephthah and Job are solemn-
ly receiving' the brandy ; now Dan
is keeping one eye upon the sea,
and another on the land ; now lie
is thinking what .sort of a run over
he will have; now they have
started : now they are on the open
sea; now "—but here my mind
grew giddy, and I could follow
them no longrer.
What a long and dreary day that
was! I who had never before
minded being solitary, thought
each hourdragged itself along more
.slowly than its predece.s,sor. I went
out in the little boat, but it was
only to strain longing eyes across
the water to see if haply I could
discern the white sails of the Danc-
ing Polly. But there was nothing
on the ocean, and presently I
rowed languidly home again, and
tried to think out somehow the
life that was before me. But that
was difficult, because I did not
know what a lady was like.
Only five in the afternoon ! the
whole evening and half the night
before me yet ! I went into the
yard and talked to Isaac Agus.
He said the wind was favourable,
but it would freshen in the night;
and then I went back to the house,
as it was getting dark and chilly,
lit the fire, and sat down before it,
thinking.
I was in that mood when things
inanimate seem to be things alive.
Dan's pipe seemed to look at me
with a sort nf ]nr
10" Lr&Tl
himself Will's violin in the open
28
'TWAS IN mFALOAR's BAY.
case seemed endowed wJfk
jWch ,..d upon „„rd.^S'^ ^f '7-»«'""-ontho,oa. Id
Where « he, the master > " T],,;
very chair. ha<I a .,ad and fo"
hoAn^' ook. I was overc„,„e wW
the^fhadow of intending evir'
At eight I could beai- it „„
te:;l!r."».^«.<'-^''-in;
th,. I.>ft .1 """ out on
the left he stoop outh-no of Pinhav
d.«, uml on the right a little f the I
long me of rock. Nothing esc
But the wind blew fresh inltv
faee,andIl,eardtheraaroft"e
-....„.; „^^ ^^.g limvvjn,] "v,«,xu i-'Je roar of fh*.
ha^ freshened by this time Id ZZ^'''^' ""«' "^ ^^^
was blowing freely amon,, the « " "P "t™". and that
boug„s and branches. But itcame I "r ™"P«™™»Wp to me,
fro«; the right quarter, and f ""^ '" f™' "^ "•« ho„,e
wo,Ud have to be a big L Je to Ct": "T ''*'-'^"- '»" '«""'
r-»--edt„maJrs,rr,:^-:t::r
, Tired with the anxiety and soli- " T^ *° ''^'"y »"■' °f fear.
«""de, I fell asleep the moment ■ ^I'T^^ ' '"™<' "'d went out
»y head touched the pillow ?W " f'! t^'^- ^own the .steep path
1 ,. ™ ""^ '"»' "ight that I 7 P' """^ """'^d uo light to
should ever fall i„to L swelt f b ! T, °'''' *"™8h ^y B^^
chiJd^h custom. '"'^' about half-way down I heard ano-
When I awoke from confused T' f '' T *'"' ?"«' below me-
dreams of trouble, which took „„ d Vf " "' "™ P-'™"- « was „o
ntel ,g.ble shape, it was st^l ,n ^^J 'b'"""^*''"^'""' ^ '"-Jbt
the depth of night. There was no f "' '' "■»«* be Joshua
«uchthingintho,edaysasm:t:h:s Natr^rt,'?.™'""^ "'^ 4"
andthestnkmgofalightbymeans lo t ! "" ^^ ^^ould come to
of the tmder-box was no ea^y L7 ,' lid f f' ""' ?"*'"'<' » ^^'^^ he
tor. Vet I could not sleep anv ,^\ T ' '"'^ "° desire to
more. My nerves were like fuick- wl' Zf""'"- '" ' ^*»^«> whe e
f ver. I .prang from' m^^d"
di^ssed hurriedly in the dark, tied
ne^"1:^nl™™'''"^''-da„1
inTn a "'^ ™y downstairs
Ltse °'^'" "^ '" '■•»' of 'he
Clou k had come up over the sky.
and there was not a ray of sj
- down on the hiSt'^i
And then-good heavens! what
d'd It mean ? there came more
.^»ij-;. .^tei-s in the distance, aj;
" 'he road above, the confused
rampofmanyfeetuponthet
of the rough lane which led from
could the.se be ? And what could
|i<Miil!li>t>iiiuuiwj
LY.
'igliimneronthesea. It
possible to make out or,
J steep outline of Pinhay
tithe right a little of the
5f rock. Nothing else
nd blew fresh into n.y
Jieard the i-oar of the
:ging down the shingle
It up again, and that
lonship to me.
e in front of the house,
e darkness and think-
better to be out in the
ng to the voice of the
30xedupinabedroom
ry«ortoffear.
f ai-ose and went out
lown the steep path
the beach. I knew
id needed no light to
the rough way. But
V down I heard ano-
lie path below me—
person, ft was too
thing,but I thought
i must be Joshua
unload the cargo,
e should come^to
enture in which he
had no desire to
so I stayed where
off the path, and
i hillside to wait,
heavens! what
here came more
le distance, steps
^e, the confused
t upon the stones
which led from
'usdon. Whose
And what could
A LUCKY RUN.
29
they want, coming to Rousdon Bay
at three in the morning.
I was standing on a ledge of rock
overhanging tlie path from the
house to the beach. By lying
along the ledge I could look over
the heads of these men as they
came down the hill, and almost
touch them. I waited while th(;y
passed by the silent house. They
did not stop there ; evidently they
had no business with its occu[)ants;
and then a pang of horror struck
my heart, for I reflected that I was
the only occupant ; and although
they might have no business with
me, they might have with those
who ought to have been there that
night. I lay down on the rock and
cautiously looked over through the
branches of a bramble.
It was not so dark but I could
distinguish the figures of the men
as they came down the zig-zag
path, and slowly felt their way
along the .steep and narrow way
beneath me. It was not so dark
but I could count that there were
sixt-en of them, and I could hear
the clash of arms. Then I knew, i
without being told or wanting to
see any more, what they were and
what was their errand.
They were the revenue men;
they had got intelligence of Dan's
run , they were come to catch him
at the moment of landing, in the
very act of rurxning his cargo a-
shore.
I thought, by the feel of the air
and the look of the sky, that it
I must be near upon three o'clock —
I say an hour and a half before day-
break. That is to say, it was the
very time which Dan would choose,
had he a favourable wind, for
landing. And the wind was fa-
vourable — a steady strong south-
wester, before which the Dancinor
Polly would fly. There could be
no doubt that he was ofl" the coast
already.
It seemed to me that there was
just one chance — and only one.
The revenue men were all down on
the beach, at the west side of the
bay, under the rocks which were
carried away afterwards in the
great landslip. Suppose I could
get, unseen, to the point of land
which ran out— just a little point
— on the east, and shout an alarm
at the moment when the Dancinjz
Polly neared the mouth of the
bay.
It was the only chance. I knew
every rock, and ledge, and stone
round the {)lace. I had no need
to get down by the path. I slid,
jumped, and crept, working my
way round the bay, so as to get to
the point unnoticed.
That was easy. I daresay the
men were all half-asleep ; the night
was very dark, and my figure
could hai "y be made out against
the black masses of rock and over-
hanging brambles. I arrived at
the point, and crouched behind a
stone. I sat watching intently
the black waves close at mv feet
and the black sk^ above me.
'*liji.
30
- m
III
" K<'^ cold, .„ it ^1
" "'" '"'"""^ '""""onto of life „ *
•Iocs not thinlc „f ,„^,, ^ ""^
prayed that Dan ,niirl,( i ,' .
""J t,l,at th» day S fhr '"■
'hat ho .ho„^, Tai^ ',f--
Woro 1,0 ,„„do his port p"
once in the bay. „hie,ft« l°'{
^-e said, h„t a tin, ..eoM^i
poitunity would b<. lost
Ala.,! that hope laikd.
While I 8at watehinif, and al
".est before I had tin,e o „akt
h^ out, the Dancing P„„";„\^
"P out of the blaeknea, ^f^e
•^ ottrc™*"' '" '"^
I sprang up and shrieked and
wavedmyarms ' "^
portr"'' ''^"' ^-^^ ^-^-cl-a-
It was no usp r^or, „
*i. . ^^n saw me nn
">e pomt. but her bows we" a,
■oady.n the creek. Job and Jept
thah ran down the eanvas, and te
l>oat grounded on the beaeh.
^JheDancingPollyhadmadoher
I ran round the bay for my life
the da k, dying •■ Da„, Dan thev
J^rc:i:ttrrt *'
"In Hip 7?- . "aik-]an terns.
Jn the King's name," shouterJ n
rough voice. "surrend;r."'
cured their prisoners. All four
'TM'AS IN TRAFAUMR's HAV.
v^ere handcuffed, and the men
were standing round them i„ 1
-^ I broke through them, i,
^hnekmg my useless warning and
fe|; crying upon Dan's neck.^
J heard you, my pretty," said
the poor od man "hL •/
late You ^T' \ ^^' ^""
wastoolate.' ^^^"'•^^'^^•^"^it
f ''"^'fe'od him and kissed him
<^^yj and weeping Then iZ
membered WiJl. " i le-
th J o"ffiet'.rr«^'' ''»''»
vontto okon H-"- ^"""''^
here h! ««» a strange,
nore. Ho IS not a smuggler hoi
a gentleman." fc'K'OMiei.s
officer' "' 7 ''™°"''''" ™'<' 'he
rest /n •■""'' «° *'* the
The men had their cutlasse,
drawn b„t there was no bloot:
«' one ot the desperadoes
-ho canied pistols, and arranrd
oe orehand for an armed band'of
V "age,, to help him in landing
ho cargo. Moreover, resistance to
the k.ng's ofReen,. in those days
meant death. ■' '
path'^'m ' ''' ''™"^^''°" «P 'he
pa h. When we arrived in f,.o„t
of the house-poor deserted house
pants ..-Dan asked permission for
, "■ ff° and bring out a glass of
brandy for this gentleman, an7one . r,
all round for the.,e K,..„„ ;.. ? ■ "
- -•••r,. ^ads ana » jj
uv.
"''c.um3,l. und the mo„
n^'>»^' roun.I them in a
^roke throu^.h thom, .still
"»y useless warning, an.l
? upon Dan's neck.
•/you, my pretty," saM
''J;nan,"butitwastoo
; '';;^^ your best, but it
to.
^ him and kissed him
' weeping. Then I re-
Will.
' passenger," I gai,l to I
"let him go. Heonlv
^ on- He is a strangeV
3not a smuggler, he is
y prisoner," said the
'must go with the
in, men. Ready !
A LUCKY RUN.
31
had their cutlasses
ere was no bloodshed,
no resistance. Dan
of the desperadoes
'istols, and arranged
t- an armed band of
elp him in landing
•reover, resistance to
«ers, in those days,
'e procession up the
^e arrived in front
oor deserted house,
•eceive all its occu-
ked permission for
^J pretty," said
ing out a glass of
entleman, and one
.e br..yo lads and
'or us prisoners. 'Tis brandy, your
[honour, as never "
'' I know, I know," snid the ofti-
'cer, laugh ing— it was Captain Pol-
lard, R.N. " Well, we will halt for
the brandy."
I served them all, beginning
with the officer, and going from
him to the prisoners. It was now
daybreak, and, in the cold grey
light, I recognized all their faces.
I knew every one of them. I had
seen them at Bridport, at Seaton,
and elsewhere, when I went to look
out for the revenue cutter. One
of them was a Lyme man, a cousin
of John Beer, the barber.
"There," said Dan, when the
brandy had gone round, " now go
in, my pretty, and get to sleep, and
don't fret. Where are we ffoinff
sir ? " ^ ^'
" To Lyme first, then to Brid-
port. After that, I suppose you
will be sent up to Dorchester to
take your trial."
"I shall walk to Lyme with you,"
I said.
No opposition was made. Ar-
rived at the high-road, the prison-
ers were made to walk together in
the middle, all handcuffed, and
guarded by the men with drawn
cutlasses. I noticed that they all
tried to march next to Dan, and to
whisper in his ear. The whispers
were friendly expressions of sym-
pathy and regret.
" How did they know I should
run into Rousdon Bay?" asked
Dan of one of them.
Tlu m-in Hj(i his ii ad. Hr
knew nothir^- aJx)ut it Stmie in-
former," 1 iposed, M li a ran*
tered curse against all informt
I walked beside Will. He \ i>
trying to face the situation, which
was very serious.
" I shall be committed for trial
with the rest, Pleasancc. Be brave,
my gill ; it will be only a tenn of
imprisonment, no doubt. We shall
fight it through. But my mother
must not know."
" Oh Will, they won't send you
to prison ? "
" I doubt they must, my dear. I
must think what is best to be done
for all of us, as well as for myself.
You would not like me to escape
at the expense of this poor old man,
would you ? "
There was no reply possible to
this. Of course I would not, in my
right mind. Just then, however,
it seemed as if even Dan might go,
provided my Will could be got out
of the scrape.
We marched down the steep hill
which leads into Lyme at about
half-past five. The little town was
sound asleep. When we reached
the house of Mr. Mallock, Justice
of the Peace, a halt was called, and
the officer began to knock lustily
at the door.
His worship was not dressed-
Could we come later on ?
We could not ; the case was im-
perative. His worship must be
good enough to get out of bed and
receive us at once.
32
>/in ;
'TWAS IN TRAFALOAU's BAV.
The narrow hall wa, „„arly
x":;rrT^:terwi,o
wonder. "" ""S^y
"Now, gentlemen," he ™i,l
what s this ! ivi • '■'
break ? J^ r,. "' ^^"^^ ^'^-J-
H«vo ■*" ^"^"aparte landed?
-nave von o-/^+ „ t..
Havp , —"""'^parce Janded ? <,rp ,
Weir 17 ^"' .' *^^'^"«^^ «py ? «aidlh '"• "^^^^ ^^'^ ^-^y>"
Wn ho .s ,n eornmand of :r;'^t7^"'''"'" " You fo.gl;,
Thk 1 ^ '? '" ^'^' *h« case
P'ay excuse me. Whaf ,l« •.
for von In . , ^"^ wishin/?
'.i-Hi:i;:jr-t;"'^^^^^^
« aily, a, ottcw in c«.,„uand of
stfj, forwai'd ! " ^^'woners,
"IJan Gulliver! "cried the ma.
S*ate as the lights were hrouX
andhecouhUeeourfaee,, .^„i
- Pn^onor ! Dear me. dear mer
I ask for the prisoner to be
committed for trinl ., »u
" 'or crial, at the next
iJorehe-ster assizpq „n . i.
theac't" ^ "<»"«'"«'«» in
you ?
"Iam,Mr.MalJock,ifyouwilJ
aliow me to speak " said cl 7
Pollard. Captain
fo^you. lamupatthisungodi;
^^«» on purpose to hear you
^Peak. Mary, go bring a pair of
"I am Lieutenant Pollard Mr
Malloek, and "
TJiio « ,, . ^"*^ case.
Wow for al7of „:, ''""' ' "''^' »
He led the way into the dinin..-
™om, where was his great chaFr
;0«t,ce, in which he'placed hi J
Caught, sir, landing a car™ of
oC^i-^r^'^'^r.-sr
racei. Do you wish to hear
evidence ? " ^^*
" Evidence, sir ? ni?
t
t
I
c
h
t:
o
p
tl
oi
as
ell
ofl
ca
w]
an
hit
ob
iJwwWPii
IMMMI«
HA V.
''^"«''<J-. an. sorry i .i;,,
?^"^" you. What wit),
^'^^'•''•^'--Vlary, do fetch
'fcs-an.l the confusion of
' *^ fc'u« 'iisturhancf-
''\ "•<-'• What doe. it
'^;'l f Wo were wi.shin,.
«t jught over a.s ^.ood a
"K'y as ever ')an -
« captain interrupted
I't'at alacrity.
0^;^'. Mr. MaJlock. offi.
;ffi''^-i- in connnand of
« revenue cutter, The
'«e are my men; these
pn«one,-H. Prisoners,
\ LiTPKY nirv.
38
'Jverj"cried the ma-
' lights were brought,
«eeour faces, "you'
>oar me, dear me ! "
the piisoners to be
[ trial, at the next
uzes, on a charge of
'^e caught them in
' • Fair and easy "
rate. "You forget,
to hear the case.
3 way. Oh Dan
a Wow ! what a
us ! "
■y into the dining.
' his great chair
ch he placed him-
tnding a cargo of
'n Bay," said the
' wish to hear
Of course J
wi.sh to hear evidence, and all tht«
lovidence you have to otter I can
laasnro you. Do you think that
lespfjc table people — yeomen — sub-
stantial f» liners, like 'nv friend
Dan (fulliver and his sens — are to
be hauled ott* to prison on y(;ur
i f )se-( 1 1 X i t ' Ta— ta— ta ! call your
evid' rice."
T /jen was a general smile at
the mention of Dan's occupation.
Everybody of covuse, know ex-
actly what his calling was. Even
the otticer. Lieutenant Pollard,
drank no brandy except what
came from Dan's secret cellars.
One after the other, the men
were called forward by the lieu-
tenant. Each deposed the same
thing. They had marched to
Rousdon Bay by order of the
captain, meaning Lieutenant Pol-
lard ; they waited under shelter of
the cliff from two o'clock till four,
or thereabouts ; then the Dancing
Polly sailed into the bay, and
they captured the crew consisting
of the four prisoners.
When the lieutenant had called
half-a-dozen witnesses, the justice
asked him if he had anything
else to depose.
"Nothing more," replied the
officer " Isn't that enough ? You
can hear the same story from the
whole sixteen."
" No, sir," said the magistrate —
and I thought I saw a twinkle in
his eye as he raised the important
objection— "no,sir;itisnotenough.
You have proved to me that Dan
(fulliverand the three other pri-
soners weio on lH>ai(l a boat which
I you believe to be, and which, in
! the absence of evidence to th.' con-
I trary, we may assume to be, the
j Dancing Polly. You had an un-
(lotibte(i right, as an officer of His
Majesty's revenue, to Iward that
vessel. Where, in my opinion, you
exceeded your.lufy was in seizing,
the prisoners ; for you have not*
proved that there was anything on
board to justify that violent mea-
sure. Prove smuggli. .sir, or I
shall let the i)ri.soners go, and dis-
miss the case."
There was a sensation in the
court. The officer looked down
aba.shed. He had actually, in his
zeal to seize a well-known and no-
torious smuggler, omitted the most
neces.sary portion of his case-
proof of the contraband carriage.
He was actually so eager to bring
his prisoners to the magistrate,
that he forgot to carry with him
his pieces de conviction.
"Under the circumstanoes, there-
fore," said the justice, with a great
sigh of relief, " I shall di.smiss the
prisoners, unless you can at once
produce evidence of smuggling."
Dan smiled. Will laughed aloud.
Job and Jephthah nudged each
other with their elbows, and be-
came solemn beyond what is na-
tural in young men. Lieutenant
Pollard looked, in fact, if one can
say so, of a gallant officer, who af-
terwards fell fighting the battles
of his country, foolish.
Si
J could soiu back tn »
•""•y. he said " nn,i „
Danein-T PoJJy." *= '^"*^
"Tush, nian '" smM *i
MVho,-. f. "'® justice.
»Viio IS to prove that those ke^.
were tliere when vnn i , ^^^
craft?" '''''•>'"" ^0^1' Jed the
Tlie revenue men Jooked n f i
-L^au (.juJJiver was tmJn^ x
tJ.n.-r A • , ^ ^ *^^ escape
tiieir friend and m-eate^f .»
"gilt It Will bo with a beeter case
^oJiy,youha .otter ask (Sr.f„-
;'o"a.-dto,„wi,„ou''l„^;:r
'l"nk, : ..hall go up »tah. an.
have my sleep out "
Wo all thought the case was over
!' f *'"■ «••'"»« «'on, when a youn,^
Wlow one, nhe .sixteen. sSf
ly nan,e-he wa. a Weyn.outh
'•'";"<> "">" nearer than Wey
'»" h would have willing,/ ^1
'*«J .«a,nst Dan-stepped for
,'n ""' **"!' ""'d. hesitation
™S your honour's pardon T
I'l cached one of n,. i
i , ,^'t^'«^ohn Beer there"
-everybody looked reproaclifu^.
'T^AS I^ TIUKALOAH'S BAY.
at John Beei-* *!,«
r„... I , "' ""* "-""s"' of 01
^yno barl,er-"an,l we drank
'"aether," '* '
,:'**";'■;*'•""»"■»"/' 3ai.l.the jus
t'ce s,tt,ng down again. ^
ilioyyavo him the oath and l„
repeated his evidence. The worth
;ag,st,.te tried ^ ero..e.ri^
liim, but ,t was useless. The ore
o"ierw,.,e be accounted for
Then they called on John Beer,
««Jthaty„„„g ,„,!„..
to c ':'r ' "r""'"^'--. was fait
'oconhrm the statement. '
no furthe"'""" "' "'" """^^ ■""''"l
no tuither opposition. '
."".'"f te," he said, with a
ehoke m his voice. •' It i. i ' V
IjOanCdliverand/orit^i
a. Wit: C '"''*" «"'"-'
scribed, ^'"'"P>o«, all de-
you wdl have a speedy ,l„liver
"-. and quickly return to /ouV
-your farmingand the rested"
"•at f s,g„ this document. The
'r '» "neertain. Times are hard
H-st men cannot be spa '■
And at V """" "'^'"'^"-e
^ood :i ; Tat:; '°°' r"^^
to »ay, entirely eu.pty " """^
'■MalEXr"'"^'' '"
>"».llus sons-caught at last
'V
'•»«"i i «» «« «
S RAY.
"' Boer; the cousin of ou
ba'-ber-"and we drank i
A LUCKY RUN.
35
^;ar this man,- said.the jus
t'"g down again.
^avohimtheoath,andhc
1 his evidence. The worth;
^te tried to cross-examine
: '^ ^^"^ useless. Tlie pre-
f t''e brandy could not
e be accounted for.
^^ey called on JoJm Beer
^oungfelJow, with blushes
' ""vvillingness, was fain
» the statement
«tice of the peace made
' opposition.
«t he," he said, with a
.IS voice. "It is in the
C^ulliver and you others
^er, Jophthah Gulliver,'
I'n Campion, all de-
iomnion maiiners, that
ave a speedy deliver-
"'ckly return to your
"fiffandtherestofit,
this document. The
tain. Times are hard
'cannot be ..pai-ed.
terrible misfortune'
juncture, too, when
IS almost not to be
own cellar, I ,egret
V empty."
I'e all committed to
I'efusod.
vas, the wliole popu-
^ was in the streets
sympathy and sor-
tuie of Dan Gulli-
>ns — cauirjjf »i I- J
for Dorchester jail. Loud were
he lamentations, and deep were
ho curses which were uttered on
,he unknown informer who had
rought this evil. They put us
[in a waggon and we drove oft'— no
[one refusing to let me go too — to
Bridport and Dorchester ; the
dreariest journey I ever made in
my life, except one even more sor-
rowful, which was to come later.
There happened, after the re-
luctant justice had granted his
warrant, a very strange thing, and
one which caused the sides of all
Lyme Regis to shake with laugh-
ing. We heard the news ourselves
two days afterwards.
Captain Pollard, ashamed of his
own haste, which was almost the
cause of a miscarriage of justice,
despatched four of his men to
seize the cargo and the boat, and
to bring them round to the cove
at Lyme. Both boat and cargo
were the prize of the captors; and
a very tidy haul the prize would
prove.
The men, by their own account,
lo t no time in marching back to
Ilousdon. It was about ei.dit
o'clock wlien they got to the
farm. Hero they found Isaac |
Agus at work in the yard, and
his wife in the dairy, and no one
else about the place. Unsuspici-
ously they descended the liill and
boarded their prize.
The Dancing Polly was empty.
The whole of hei- cargo was
gone. Not one keg left; not a
single trace of any brandy at all ;
the prize snatched from under
their very eyes.
The men looked at each other
aghast. It hud been grief to most
of them to arrest old Dan at all ;
ho had ever boon a good friend to
all who wanted a little cheap
■spirit; but this laudable repug-
nance to perform the more un-
grateful portion of their duties
was moderated by the prospect of
a prize. The Dancing Polly, as
she stood with all her gear, was
woith something, no doubt. And
then there was the brandy.
They looked at each other in
dismay. Where was it ? Without
a word they turned and climbed
tiio hill to the farm. Here Isaac
Agus was placidly engaged among
the pigs.
He Wius hard of hearin'' and
slow of speech, but at length he
was made to comprehend that un-
known })ersons had boon at work
in the bay since daybreak, and
that he was wanted to say who
they were.
He know nothing. At the usual
hour — that is, before daybreak —
he had left his bed, and since then
had been busy in the farmyard.
The absence of Dan and the boys
gave him no concern, because it
frecpiontly happened ; and he was,
in his slow way, amazed to learn
that they were all then, with the
stranger, on their way to Doi-ches-
ter prison.
But he knew nothiuLf. The sim-
PR/
86
!fli
01
mi
P look o the old „„„, hi., doaf-
"'"' '^" ' ''™^''' °f eomprehen-
t • '=°''""="1 the men that he
knew nothing. Then they re
t"™«l to the hay, and stood fadiv
contempJatino- their ^„.r.t ■
•'"re for certain" <n,vi „
roiKs ii laugh at us."
Well, they may." .said another
Jhen nature, which brinos re'
ie::;f'™i-^'^'S-eihe":
oaths ,^*'*''°»-^'» "Wiley of
-enn. ot^infor^e:^—:
n !u ^'' ""'''"» 'liera to med-
llo w.th Dan Gulliver „t ail ln,l
had robbed the cargo; and then at
the captain, for beinr. in ,„,i,
.""ghty hurry; and the'n at "ht:
in genera]. "^^
finf hl7 ""'^.''"' ^^^-S lil^e
mushed sweanng_so, th.at is as
to eei o^y and comforuble f^
the r minds about the past and
Pl"Iosophic as to the future-tte
thought occurred to one of them
^-^nmarchingoverth^tields:
It was ten o'clock when thev <.ot
there; the wheel was slowly S.
'TWAS IN THAPAIUAK'S BAy.
■-0 the"dt;/t:tTetr:'i
-^tywaggor.^rn.-*'-;;
- 'hrct: tb°"^i; »■'
himself °'^"^ ^eech
arreted" f" ^ ^—
-oha^tht^dr:;:*"-'^^
ha^alT r° '"'■" *"' "- -go
but w thor"^"^"- "" '-«h«.,
thonheinvtlT"™'""- ^"J
the mill. "''' ^''^ '"» to search
Jhere was nothing there.
AM so my uncle is eau^h* »
he said, ■< and tl,^ i, ™ught,
"Ay.'a;'::/::;,'^^?"'''™^
^> vve aie like the anac
^as a young man w-:.h them. Was
"6, too, caug-ht?"
" All caught."
^^ Was there any resistance?"
^he old man and his son f).
^ero quiet enou<.h " re XT' *^'^
the men. " The ^hr^""' °^
low k 7 • , '^^^^' yo«nfi-fel-
V;,"^*" -""J fought ato"
Thatwa™ash r • " '^'"^ ^"^
'° the w, tr"""''™^»
That's •„ ^ • °^''-' " <leath.
'' a hanging matter. The ■'"»
"I Wore
■jki-fjln -Vii — -i.|||..i M||itlli<Wi>liMiMii...
BAY.
, ' tho water splashed
/'eep dark hole below
■»-- of the upper and tho'
'"e were heard within •
waggon was standin.. bv'
•«^'Jy to be loaded; "and
^' ^^« Joshua Meeeh
^»<^ flat cap, his boots
^re covered with flour'
lem roughly what they
'^eard that Dan was
^ «eemed to reel and
doorway.
^^eard that the cargo
appeared, he laughed,
' merriment. And
^d ^he men to search
THE king's clemency.
bther three will get off with seven
^eaivs' transportation. But he'll
be hanged. Dear me ' How very
lad!" ^
He smacked his lips as if he
liked the thought. Some people
Bo like to dwell on melancholy
Subjects.
37
CHAPTER IV.
TH.i kino's clemency.
nothing there.
ny uncle is caught,"
the boys with him ?"
' of them."
"certain," said the
' are like the grass.
ephthah ! And there
anwn.hthem. Was
•-ny resistance ? "
^ and his son, they
?K' replied one of
other young fel-
and fought a bit."
?" cried Joshua
''es<^- "Did he?
because resistance
officers is death.
»g matter. The
T was late in the even-
ing when we got to
Dorchester. The pris
on gates— above them
ung, as a warning to evil doers, a
■ of rusty fetters and handcuffs
•closed upon all that I called dear,
iid I was left outside.
The young man, John Beer, the
iame whose appetite for brandy
liad done us so much mischief,
'ound me a lodging with respec-
table people ; and I waited in
rouble of soul for the morning.
At nine, after waiting outside
'or two long hours, I obtained ad-
[mission to the prison. I went in
rembling, and expected to see the
jprisoners jangling their chains in
lespair. I looked for sighs and
prayers, for the tears of repentance
and the groans of remorse. I found
'nothing of the kind. The court-
yard was half full of men who
were all laughing, talking, drink-
nig, and singing. Some of them
wore fetters. One man alone was
dejected. He sat crouched up
in a corner, his head upon his
hand. I learned afterwards that
he was in pi-ison on account of a
debt contracted foi-a friend, which
he had no means of paying. Out-
side the prison his wife and chil-
dren were starving, and he could
give them no help. The law
cruel and stupid, would keep him
there until out of his destitution
and wretchedness he should pay.
So that he was doomed to a life-
long imprisonment. But Will re-
medied that later on. The most
dare-devil fellows were a jolly band
of three, waiting their trial on a
charge of highway robbery, for
which they were all hanged a few
weeks afterwards, preserving to
the last their jovial spirits, and
exhibiting an example to all the
world how brave men ought to
face death.
My own party were not in the
courtyard. Dan Gulliver and his
sons were no common criminals.
They had obtained, on payment
of certain fees, the use of a ward
all to themselves, where I found
them. It was a large and cheerful
room, but disfigured by the odious
bars over the windows. Dan was
pacing backwards and forwards ;
Job and Jepthah were sitting side'
by side in one corner, their hands
folded, in silence and resignation ;
Will was at the table, writing.
" We must be very clear and
precise about this statement, Dan,"
he was saying " There must be
I? 7
liliill:
38
10 poss.Mc misunderstanding
i oy mnst be „,ade to ,ee ti,at
,f '■?' "" "'^■'-''nd-bull story, got
«P by us to help us out of our
scrape.
Dan nodded reflectively
"Now, this is what! have writ-
ten-P]easance, you are come to
i^imited the accommodation, but
we must make the best of it. Sit
jJown, child, while we finish our
business— now. Dan ;
"'This is the statement of me,
'TWAS IN TRAFALGAR'S RAY.
l'%t;^^^"«t them, and thej
was flying French colours. \
" 'On the Dancing Polly ^e waJ
about half a mile to starboa.7o
the enemy's fleet. One of the shi J
hai ed us to h«.ii i ^''"^snipv
ouXr'^*"'"^-""^"---':
"■At three o'clock or so we"
maje Rousdon Bay, intending to v
tendon news of the enemy's lee 1-
Lr..!!..!''' -""• Unfortt
B-ieiGumv: :rR:^XnPar ::tr " -" ""-"• '^"^<'
of Lyme Regis.
'"On Wednesday evening, Oc-
tober 21st, in this year 1803 was
Poll "1 7 '^^*' ^^^ ^-eing
f'olly, off the coast of France
no tzme inputting on paper the
observations we made as to the
whereabouts of the enemy
"; I am in the hope that this in-
telligence may prove of u.se to his,
homeward bound, f was runW 37 "'^ '"^^ ^' "'^^ *« hi.;
a cargo of brandy, in the landinf iTrv' ^T'"""^'"*' ^^^ that
of wbi.l. T ,„„. . ^"^^"^ I the diligence I have used in for-
Wfi.rr\inrr U : 1. . .
rvf iT- I. T -^ ' "^ Janain<
^^7^^;^^™ caught and arrest,
ed by the revenue officers, and am
now, with my two sons and a
young man who was staying in
my house, committed for trial for
that offence.
" ' We took in our cargo at Bar-
fleur, on Wednesday morning We
sarted. the wind being thenlight,
warding ,t immediately may bei
toof /"°"°' against^he
fact of my havmg broken the law
"1 my venture to the Frenoh
coast." " JTencli
•' I don't think, Dan," said Will
after carefully ..eadi^^^^^^^^j.
that we can do much more good'
to the document. Here is the in-
but aft;„;rd r; le^niranf "l'- '» the document, n^^;^
E. by S, a favourabklind fo, t^TJ^h '"t^""^ ™'-"<' -'
us, but bad for the ships we met I itTf r ^'^ ,^'''-'™ ^""^ "k"
later on ,■„ *!,. ^i_ .^ "^^ "et I 't. If the officials do not; but thev
could not ,lo,„ ». _. , . . "•'
iater on in the Channel.
"'Ten miles, or thereabouts due
north from Point Barfleur they
were-threemen-o'-war,eightfri-
gates and small craft. They were
beating „p Channel, apparently
would not dare ioThZ'rS
now, Dan, you must sign "
Dan Gulliver, after making the
caretul preparations for writing
common to people of that time
unaefin.tjtomo'^ *- __•_,,. '
"""'-'-' "" =*^^ tneir names
Isay
|der
chil
iuy.
^ north, though the win.
d against them, and thev
ig FrencJi colours,
the Dancing Polly ^^ ^^
It a nnJe to starboard o
y's fleet. One of the ship-
' *« haul down and lay
^e held on, seeing th^
^« freshening, and all i,i
r. '
hree o'clock or so we
isdon Bay, intending to^
>ws of the enemy's fleet'
^ we could. Unfortu
were caught by the ofli-
••rested. So I have lost
puttmg on paper the
s we made as to the
s of the enemy.
1 the hope that this in-
lay prove of use to his
overnment, and that
3 1 have used in for-
immediately may be
account against the
iving broken the law
ure to the French
THE king's clemency.
ink, Dan," said Will,
r reading the whole,'
do much more good
nt. There is the in-
sh and valuable and
Nelson would like
^Is do not; but they
i to shelve it. And
must sign."
", after making the
itions for writing
opie of that time,
sign their names
srpetrated a form which he meant
stand for Daniel Gulliver, while
fob and Jephthah looked on in
'lent admiration. Anything their
tther did was great and beautiful,
'or that parental respect I honour
leir memory.
That done, "Now, Pleasance,"
id Will, who had taken the en-
re command of the business,
please go into the town, ascertain
•ho is the best lawyer in the town
-the gentlefolks' lawyer. Go, call
tthis office, and bring him here
"ithout a moment's delay."
"Tell him not to fear about
oney, for there is plenty under
he hearthstone," said Dan.
It was not difficult to find the
•est lawyer in Dorchester. Every-
^•ody sent me to Mr. Copas. I
^ound him an elderly gentleman,
svho wore a large wig, and looked
!ike a dignitary of the Church.
" This sort of case does not lie in
he ordinary course of my prac-
ice," he said ; " I recommend you
'0 go to Mr. Ferret, whose clients
ihiefly consist of ."
"I think, sir," I said, "that
^hen you know who one of the
smugglers is you will not refuse to
tot for us. Pray, pray come and
see him ! And, oh ! if it is the
money you are thinking of, Dan
[says, there is plenty of money un-
|der the hearth.^one."
Mr. Copas smiled.
" It had better be in the bank
child. ^Well, I will go with you!
But I do not promise anything."
We found Willalone in the ward,
still busy with paper and pen. He'
was graver than usual, as was only
natural, but when his eyes met
mine he smiled in his quiet and
sympathetic way.
" Now, my good fellow," said
Mr. Copas, in a patronising and
friendly tone, « tell me what you
have to say, but do not waste time
and tell the truth." *
" What I have to say is Mr
Copas," said Will, «I am a gentle-
man who has got into a scrape
with three most worthy smuo--
glers." °
" A gentleman ? Well, you do
not look much like a sailor. But
go on."
" My name is Campion. I am the
only son of the late Sir Godfrey
Campion, and the chief partner in
the firm of . "
"Good heavens! And you a
smuggler ? "
" Well, not exactly. But I went
for a venture with Dan Gulliver,
and we were all caught. That is'
the story."
" But you— you, my dear sir—
the influence of your family must
case
be brought to bear. Your
must be separated."
Here Will interposed.
" I cannot separate my case from
the poor fellows with me," he said.
" I cannot have any family inter-
est employed, because, above all,
my mother must not know of this
—this disgrace. I shall stand my
trial with the others. Fortunate''-
pl<
40
r~, /j
U '
ly"— he took up the papers which
he had Mj-itten and Dan had .signed
— " I have soniethino- ],ere which
'•"^'ht to procure us an absolute
pardon. It is secret intelligence
ior tlio Admii'alty. We .sighted
the French fleet on oui' way' back,
find we can report on the enemy's
cour.se. Now, Mr. Copas, can you
hnd me a trustworthy mossen.rei ?
You can ? Then let liim ride as
hard as horses can carry him. Let
him ride without stopping, let him
get to London before midnight.
He must be armed witli a ]et
ter from you and one from the
mayor."
" I am the mayor."
. " ^;^°^- The letter must simply
give the date of our capture, and
•state that the document is signed
by a man well-known in Lyme
perfectly trustworthy, althouo-h'
»ow in jail on a charge of smuc-
ollKl-" ®
'TWAS IN TJiAFALGAR's BAY.
img.
, Mr. Oopas hastened away with
tlie papers.
"They ought to let us go at once
^vithout a trial," said Will the
sanguine. " Sit down and look
«-heerful, Pleasance dear. Why we
can make love as well in a prison-
ward as under Pinhay cliff. Let
»ne ki,ss the tears from your pretty
eye.s,mypeerle,sswoodlandnymph "
We had a fortnight to wait for
t le assizes. No answer came from
the Arhniralty, nor any sign that
were all to be acquitted without a
trial. Meantime Mr. Copas en-
gaged the best counsel on the cir-
cuit, no less a man than the grea
|e;^ant Tamblin, king's co^sd
iw- our defence. As fm- T^ i,
Meech. he d>d ^,, ^' '^'''^'''
> "t CI 1 not once come to
«ee as. an act of prudence which
wh,leI_)ancomn.endedit,wassur.'
pnmgtohnn Tobe,sure,asDan
«aid. It was only by chance that h
wasn t caught with the rest. An,
yl.enltoldhimofthe .single step
had heard before the revenue me,
came down the hill, he surmised
that It was Joshua, and divined
the .secret of the empty hold. Who
but Jo,shua could have cleared out
the cargo in so expeditious and
ciafty a manner? Who but Joshua
i^new the caches in the cliff ? Who
but Joshua would have been so
thoughtful of the interests of the
firm ?
The court, on the day. of the
tnal, was crowded with .spectators
principally people from Lyme and
Bridport who knew Dan Gulliver
talk, for It was nothing but specu-
Htion as to what the punishment
would be.
Everything frightened me-the
™ld.st,ff court, «th the constables
and the javeiin-„,en; the people
.n t he gallene., who .see.„ed eager
for the show to begi„_a,, if dear
old Dan belonged t» a caravan
and was to be brought out and
teed for their g,,*fieatio„ ; the
hornd dock; the witness:box,
where I knew the evidence of our
guilt would be overpowering ,- the
b«.r„et«,, who .arrived just before
i
BAY.
' ^^""^ « '»an tJ.an the grea,
'\ '^a»'Win, king's eoun.se)
•Jew. As for Joshua
l^e fl-J not once come t,
an act of luudence whicJ.
'" ^onunended it, was but-
ohim. To be sure, as Dan
-as only by chance that h,
'"^^ht with the rest. And
Wi'"nofthe .single step]
i before the revenue men
n the ]nll, he surmised
a« Joshua, and divined
ofthe empty hold. Who
acould have cleared out
"1 so expeditious and
inner? Who but Jo.shua
'aches in the cliff ? Who
a would have been so
of the interests of the
TJIK Kr.G's CMvVlENCy.
41
t, on the day of the
■owded with spectator.'
people from Lyme and
10 kiiew Dan Gulliver,
v^ith dismay to their
i^as nothing but specu-
what the punishment
? frightened me— the
% with the constables
'iin-men; the people
«, wlio seeiiied eagej'
to begin-as if dear
iged to a caravan,
»e brought out and'
f gi-i'^ification ; the
the witness-box,
the evidence of our
overpowering; the
arrived just before
|ten in their wigs and gowns, and
talked and laughed as if there was
nothing to come of tlu; day's work
but a tight in words among them-
selves; the en)pty seat of the
judge; the clerk below with his
papers.
I came with Mr. Copas, who
provided me with a seat below
the dock, so that I could .shake
hands with the prisoners.
Presently our man, our advo-
cate, the grc „t Sergeant Jamblin,
K.C., afterwards Sir Peter Jamb-
lin, one of his majesty's judges,
came into court. He was followed
by a clerk bearing a blue bag full
of papers. I noticed that he nod-
ded, but did not shake hands with
Mr Copas. Yet he shook hands
wi. a every member of the bar in
the court. I believe that in those
days it was not considered right
for a barrister to shake hands with
an attorney.
Presently he left the table and
came to me.
" I have heard of you, Miss
Noel," he said. " Pray let me shake
hands with you. Mr. Copas has
told me the whole history. I am
only sorry that your gallant at-
tempt to warn Dan Gulliver did
nc^ ".ucceed. I am not sure, but I
am in great hopes that we shall
get them off altogether-one and
all, you know ; they were in the
same boat. But if we cannot,
then I may tell you that a little
bird has whispered good news in
my ear. A lord, high placed, has
iiitorested himself in the case.
Courage, my dear 3'oung lady."
This was very kind of the .ser-
jtiant. He was not, to look at, a
man from whom such kind thin<>s
were to be ex[)ecte(I; for lie had a
harsh and strident voice, full pro-
jecting lips, and staring eyes. Also
he had very red cheeks, and a way
of pu.shing back his wig which
showed that he was already <piite
bald. But when, years afterwards,
I heard people talk of the har.sh
and overbearing way of Judge
Jamblin, I rememl)ered that he
had once taken pity on a poor girl
in grievous trouble, and said words
of comfort to her.
Then there was a blare of trum-
pets, and presently the whole court
rose to greet the .judge.
Now I firmly believe that, if we
had had any other judge in all
England to try the case, or if this
particular judge had not been at-
tacked the day before with gout
in his great toe, so signal was the
service rendered by Dan to the
government, that we should have
all got off with a free pardon. But
the day was unlucky. Our judge,
never the most kindly of men, was
in a bad temper that morning.
His face was pale, austere, and
gloomy. His eyes had a fishy
stare in theia, which was due to
his thinking more of his great toe
than of the arguments ffointr on
before him. He was very old ; he
had been a judge many years ; he
had sentenced so many people to
f
42
'TWAS m TRAFALOAn's BAV.
"""■ent, that he had g„t to ro^ f^Jo.-"' Jamblin leaned back a„
As for th. «"'"" D™- »i-'<teen mp„ •' i " """Pany of
»'ucK to KISS me when Jm * i ^loout four o c opt ,■» *i, I
them as if if ,J^''^*^^i<^'i
»". a gentleman in the ^uise of .
-inen tlie counsel fnr +k
«"«o„ „.,e and opoltd b?™"'
He began by .ayi/^X/^" »-■
*^er;:Ht,ar^r^'^""«
" Where did you get your in
^0-at.n, Lieutenan't Pra:d T"
. ^.^^^' ^^th his lordship's per
»7-n. I decline to state.""^ ^
The court ruled that the ques
t'on need not be asked ^
"I was only anxious, my lord "
said the serieanf «,v,-i- "^ '
"for fK •^.'^"^'•''"^hng sweetly
*o^ the witness's own sake J'
P-- that a British officer- in
^espicable persons who live bv
thSf '''' ■'"■^ ^^^ ^o"-« of
''fleii teilow men."
Here the gallant officer v.a
^ened and ,o„ked nneofX.^
,n^:.^°™»« these.
t
Aflat th*> nnf^— •-
"otoijuus smuggler
BAY.
THE king's clemency.
o
^tJamblin leaned back aivf a" Gulliver would attempt a
^u ^ J^^ifpei'erl one of tlil"" over from the French coast on
ounsel, With a depreciatorjhat particular night, laden with
fcrand}'.
''"^ ^''""•'^^^ f^J- the pros J "A.h! Remember, Lieutenant
a finished he called hif'^^ *r<l. you are on oath. Every
r"5i"^ which you say is on oath.
: ^^ ^("^i&vd was the first jPi-ay, why 'notorious sm-^^ler ?' "
ormation received he staj ^he witness laughed.
X--V ^m ' ^^^'Tbody knows that he is
'' ^^"^ Rousdon Bay atl* notorious smuggler."
^ Thursday. Opfr.K^.,P "I care nothing about every-
body knowing ; do you know ? "
" Of course, I know."
" How do you know ? "
" By general report."
, u , _ "So, if general report pro-
' ' •'^"ostantially, that I claimed you a murderer, a thief,
ay. Then the Serjeant I or anything else, you must of
to tear him to I necessity be that kind of crimi-
nal ?"
The witness was silent. Of
course, he could not be expected
to state that he had often par-
taken of the Gulliver brandy, and
had, indeed, purchased it.
" Has the elder prisoner or any
of the prisoners, indeed, ever
been convicted of smuggling ? "
" No."
"Have you ever seen them
smuggling ? "
" Never before."
" Do you, then, still persist in
that expression, ' notorious smug-
gler ? "
The witress hesitated.
"I suppose I must withdraw
it," he said.
" He withdraws it, gentlemen
of the jury. Remark, if you
4S
'"■^^Jf^ with a company of
on Thursday, Qct^be,
;o"t four o'clock in the.
he Dancing Polly ,ound-
nt and stood in for tho
'the moment of land
the arrest
>egan
;^i'l you get your in
t-ieutenant Pollard ? '
ip's per-
ith his lordsh
■cline to state,
ruled that the ques
i be asked.
y anxious, my lord,"
ant, smiling sweetly
ness's own sake, to'
British officer is in-
^Joying any of those
•sons who live by
sins or follies of
m."
allant officer red-
^ed uncomfortable,
on," said the ser-
clid this villanous
u?"
torious smuggler,
please, that the witness has never,
he says, known of any smuir<rlin«r
on the part of the prisoners. Let
the injuriouspresumption raised in
your minds by my learned bro-
ther's opening speech, and per-
hafjs confinmed by the careless,
baseless expressions of a preju-
diced witness, be immediately
dismissed. We have to do with
one charge, and one alone. Now,
sir, your best attention, if you
please. You say you caught this
man smuggling, do you ? "
"I do."
" What was he smuggling ? "
" Brandy."
" How do you know ? "
"One of my men opened a
keg."
"And purloined, being in the
revenue service, spirit which he
supposed to be smuggled. Has
that man been brought to jus-
tice ? "
" He has not."
" Were there other kegs? "
" I did* not see."
" When your men returned for
their prize, what did they find ?"
" Nothing. The craft had been
cleared in their absence."
The next witness was the man,
James Skirling by name, who had
opened the keg.
He gave his evidence in as few
w^ords as possible, and was then in
his turn submitted to cross-exami-
nation.
"I understand you," said the
Serjeant, in slow and awful tones.
44
"to in. '''''''' '^^^^^U^An'H n.y
^«ok advantage of the ^l^'^"
" I (hVl."
JJieinano-nnned.
V the ::rr :"""-■ """««''
They .toio^l'i'"' '«'■"■«'"",
Vou betrayed a tr?"" '■"*''"^'-
bran.V'" ^°" ''°'' "'■■"' ""=
-"^thattr '■" ^°"^"-' -
" I did."
" There fa n »,„ i-
ask for fli,. ». I
n'ba.su/pat^-O-'^ wa„ J
" ^O" took one kcc an,l I
;p;- u; y„„ ,,,.„,, ;«-ro.
y(>u stole some of iU . / ""^'1
P«y, wore tl, relit '"■''"'^^■,
J^ here weio • r ?
ke^s?"^^'' ^°" «Pen those I
" No."
:;^?™"'0»eke,^evere»m-|:
ined ? "
-nersa^a". ""^^-^^^-P-i
" ^ou have no knowledo-e whnf
they contained ? " * ''^
" Brandy, of course," said th
"^a"> picking up hi// '
little. ^ '■' courage a
"^ouwiJI swear wifhm.f j
y thp fo..„ ., , ' !^^t^out know-
thumbs into his w!' / '"^ ^^'^ ^^^ndy ? " ' ^^ *^^"->^ contained
''Hereisavi]JIi^"''°"^^^°^kets. I « ^i: ,.
deliberate! v,!'^^^^^^^"•' He
deliberately p],!" 1?^'"' ^'
court boasts of if m , ^P"^^
a«k for th/1 !• ^•^.^'^rdJmust
jfH-r^
" How could- ? "
rogue, if :hrir"? ^^ *^- te. wfaT.'^"^^"*'^-^^ but-
country such '^' ^^ the ofFre;! I "°^ ^^e excellence
handed r" ^. ^'"^"^ "^"«t oe tlVl ^'"^*^^^'- ^i^' you swear
bene1c1altr;tr'^^"^^^^^ "^^^.'^^ ^^^ -^ oontain^:^^
am not o , P^^lic morals. J ^ "
--"at, X o„,,,„, ,„ I e.a':c,;:rar''"--^--
' vvno all swore tn *h-
If
!f<
I ®'
I ^
o:
ft
fe
b(
k
b
fr
w
w
ch
vi
nii
di;
W(
li\
re]
vvi
"A V.
'■ f^l"' prosecution of 1
-then as conniving at a.
'H' ennie."
THK KiNd'.S CLKMENCY.
45
'J'r' '^^f'"" to the terrifie,
^''«^o logs trtMuM,.! be
''•7/^iIe his cheek wa«o
pallor.
took one Jceo- .,»,<]
^6 and yoiii
•youfoun,n>randy;nit.
«7e of that brandy,'
B there other kegs ? "
;^ere ; I .saw. theni by
^ "'y dark lantern."
^^^ you open those
f^ose kegs ever exam-
y were aJI cleared out
'? "^arching the pri-
3 no knowledge what
of course," said the
"P his courage a
^oar, without know-
that they contained
'question. Can you
contained brandy?"
'a^e contained but-
'ow the excellence
'■ Wiil you swear
fc contain butter?"
'er witnesses were
all swore to the
mo facts. One thing was clear,
lliat hn.l it not boon for that un-
iicky little bottl.. of brandy, tho
rosecution would have brciken
lown completely.
Three witnesses for chnractor
ere called.
The principal evidence was the
:ev. Benjamin Burden, rector of
:ous.lon. The poor old rector, a
veritable peasant-priost, stood in
the witness-box clad in his tattered
cassock and his battered old wig,
!yet bearing upon him the dignity
of his saei-od calling. The serJeant
handled him -with much .softness
and delicacy. He made him inform
the court that he was the rector of
Rousdon, that its population was
fourteen, his stipend was thirty-
eight pounds, and his church was
a barn. This melancholy condition
of thinf^s moved the jury in his
favour, and dissipated the bad ef-
fect which might otherwise have
been produced upon a fat and well-
fed jury, clad in strong broadcloth,
by his rags and his evident poverty.
The counsel went on to elicit
from the rector that Dan Gulliver
was his churchwarden, and that
with his two sons he kept the
church in such repair as made di-
vine service possible. The clergy-
man added, quite simply and with
dignity, that Dan Gulliver was a
worthy and religious man, who
lived the life of a true Christian.
The Serjeant emphasized these
replies, one after the other, each
with a waive of his hand towards
the jury, as much as to say: " You
hear this, gentlemen ; you will ro-
momber the evidence of this holy
minister of religion."
The ovidonce of the good old
man, however, lostitM whole wei-^dit
wh(m the counsol for the prosecu-
tion asked him one or two ipies-
tions in a <lifferent <lirection.
He said :
" I fear, Mr. Bunion, that the
lamonfablo exiguity of your in-
come must shiit you out frctm the
enjoyment of many of our choicest
blessings -port- wine foi- instance !"
The rector shook his head sa<lly.
" I believe that I remember the
taste of port," he sai<l, " but I can-
not be sure—it is so long since f
saw any."
" Brandy cannot altogether re-
place port, can it ? " asked the bar-
rister.
" It cannot," said the rector.
" Yet I daresay you get brandy,
at least sometimes ? "
" I do," said the rector.
" As a present, now ? from a
parishioner ? "
" I have it given to me," .said
the rector, " by my churchwarden,
Dan Gulliver."
" I will not ask you," said the
counsel, "whence you imaginethis
brandy to be derived. I prefer
to think that you ask no ques-
tions, and have no suspicions. It
would be too much to believe that
a divine of your age and position
should countenance the practice of
smuggling."
et-
4(]
r-y^
'^'"'n followed nfh
I''-.-.«..tly tl,„
^'■«*'' ■..«,I,. l,i, „,, ™ ' '■ '■ "■"
"«•> short. "HerL."! ., ""■•'
tl'eeml, „f"", """"<"'»''eat
'■■»' tl.o coast of r "'""" "'"'
contained, Jike f ]. '"^ ^^''^'^
i'^"t(i, brandy. Of ,
It was open f.. « ^''"''S'^
"•"' U.e.,0 fo, , , ''? '" ''"'fevc
*^ Chan,.,," "7 'r' "''^cd
-^-/»eoa.s,r„;, : r' "" ""
'""*''tal,Iea,i '"'."'^"t^^'
i""«l fact, were h; f , ""*■"-
"»" with a 27' ,"' '""■<' "'a'^ a
j-oft\e^U:^;::;f'-^-
intimate frienr?. , ^.^'^ ^''^most
"-y-eceiverh „;":':«;' *'■'«
ft'om him Wt, I f ^ Pi-esent
"">t'"-a.Ki,r;rf;<"'^'i™»-e
As 'eo-arderf ,, y Profession.
--'■-•Sirs
''•»■« m inAKAuun's bav.
of ."orality,w,icl,al, «.„,„,,
'Y "^''^ 'ovonuo 8( vice M
''«"''t the gallant o/Hce,. who!
^'ff«etod the anesf, with I ,'
i^--U>titudeandeoura!;a h:r
^'^'' a little .ndiscror^ ^'
hj« niiJitm.v ^^'^c^ ^'^
h'-a^kodtjuX"^- *"""H
forth.^ '^^'> ^•^g've a verdict
^oe,s an,l dof,,,,,, „f j, I
"hen our counsel's t,„.„ „
'if'iwdoa most „i '""'^^'
<"8"«nts„„„T/c""r'^"'"''"-
DanO.dlvrtfr""^""'"'"'
"" ailiiiirable snccim^n „«
class which fo,,„„,, i'"." °' "
'""^I'hone of ™ ™"^' "=<=
.'^ffe upon his own land 1 .
'"SPm-poseshehadtw , ■■
of them called ,1! ''""'«• one
'-.are:Xh;;°--.^po%,
"'- particular nil t'r'i"'-°"
f-g the coa-sT'liT ' '''^"
do-l't. « cargo of 1^ !f'"« "P- "0
»• it might be fil "r ""'' ^«g».
'« .natters an, :' ".'''"'*™-
'•"■"toRousdrferf'"--
or inlet of th. •^' ^ ^''^^^e creek
^^^0^ his farm '^'''''''^^^tely
been across the p, ^ ^'"'"^^^^
^^ tne (JhanneJ « tr
can you prove it ? w ^^^
«««picion to arise - W '^™' *^'
^"^ • Was ,t JikeJv
w
er
"t
ha
m(
CO
"v
ru
thi
S BAV.
«J'ty.v^h.chaIlwo„Mregn>
^'' Revenue «. vice. IV
ho gallant ofhW who ha
';« ano,st with ,so ,nuo
' p-'eoura.e.althou.i
'"^'^^''•« of the offbnce in
•tmy capacity. Finally
t''e.jurytogiveaver,Jic,
--';tion,an,l,so to strike,
^« t^e lioarts of other
'^"'l defiers of the Jaw
""• counsel's turn ca.ne
■ "'o^t eJo(p,enX and i„.'
"'' t^^e much luaJiLmed
»"■''« We specimen of a
^"^'ned. he said, the
^o'"-country;hewas
^"■'">n^' the few acres
^^ ^»« paternal estate,
'•y iy with his sons
'Gd daughter, in a cot-
; own land. For fish-
^« 'ad two boats, one
' ^t ^^"^^"^ Polly,
'^"bly fast sailer. On
•"'^•i^the had been
'll picking up, „,
, , '^"tter and eggs,
«f' and such ha?l
»d proposing to re-
^^ay, a little creek
^ s^^a immediately
THE KING.> CLEMKN(;V.
47
^^ted against the
^^^expedilfcionhad
fhannel. "How
^ -now came the
• "^^« it likelv
')at in HO small a vessel, at that
itonny period of the year, four
len would venture on a voyage ho
langerous ? What is more common
ihan a trading voyag(> alon^r tlie
loast ? What more reasonable to
luppose tlian that a .small farmer
ivith a taste for sailing and boating
iliould carry on such a trade ? At
[least, gentlemen, tdl the contrary
bs proved, you have no right to
suppose that the object of keeping
the Dancing Polly was a criminal
one."
Daniel Gulliver, he went on to
.say, was accompanied by the two
boys and a sti-anger. No secrecy
was observed about the expedition,
and some idle or malignant person'
one of those creeping things which
infest every society of men, thought
it worth while to communicate the
proposed voyage to Lieutenant Pol-
lard, that gallant officer whose dis-
cretion was not equal to his zeal,
and whose eagerness to pi-otect
His Majesty's revenue 1<rl lim to
overlook the fact, you must
not arrest a man n suspicion and
charge him with smuggling, unless
you can prove it. "For, gentlemen,"
he .said, " what actual proof have
we? This"~he held up the half-
empty pint-bottle of brandy—
"this is the mighty proof. A small
half-pint of .spirits, which smells to
me, gentlemen"— he took out the
cork and smelt it cautiously—
"which smells to me, I confess, of
rum, rather than of brandy— is all
' prooi, uusoiuieiy the only proof
that we have. In the dead of a
dark night, a man whose object is
theft, hurriedly steals, this spirit
from the hold „f the ve.s.sel, and
swears that he saw other ke<^r.s, the
contents of which are unknown.
The [)lace is most rclii-ed and se-
cluded. Th(!y cany off tlieir pris-
oners, the officer never once think-
ing of examining the boat. When
they send back for that purpose
theie is nothing at all in the boat.
Mind, gentlemen, no one had been
there. Yet the boat was in ballast.
That is a very remarkable circum-
stance. That is a very su.spicious
circumstance. That is a circum-
stance which in my mind ren.lers
entirely valueless the evidence of
the man— the chief witness -who.so
only value was that it .seemed to
afford a ba.sis for a,s.sumption of
guilt. Komember,gentlemen, again,
that the only proof of guilt is a
half-pint of rum, or some such
spirit, in a bottle— a half-pint—
about enough to anmse a gentle-
man between a bottle of port and
bedtime; aUd on that hali-pint you
are asked to convict this honest,
religious, and God-fearing yeoman,'
with his two innocent boys, and a
young man of whom no harm what-
ever is known, and therefore none
should be nspected."
When all was done the jud^^e
summed up. It was most unfor-
tunate for us that his gout rendered
himiU-temperedandsour. He went
through the evidence bit by bit.
pointed out how simple it was, how
f/l
48
(^1 '/
d
m
rh !!
f wl
f'ni- fi, • intention 4^
'■e«t of the r.nv :, ^°^ tJie
was entireJv.„ ™«"«thatit
brandy -^ '""P"*^' "' F.'cneh
"'eyea™eVclt:;,"'"'-.<""y^
ver,lict_ "naninious
JU'Jffe ^^r' ^ ''-■•■ -W the '
spoC °''''^"' "^ ">,.„„» and
'jfeiii:, ne said "Tv.^
There was a geltan ,!'""■"
«ven the iurf„„ * , ? ''"'8'>' and
"iami5h.r'^''«r*-^'y.
?"'■'*• r«, are' - •""'"^"y™''
■"ercy Tr' , T"'««'"'Je<l to
p»a,t;:'itr;*r'r""
"tude Bi,* T • P""*"' ser-
anotherafdAT','"'"™'''"--"'"
^-.DaniG, ?':;■, ^""-'-^at
Portance to-ill •*' '* »' ■«-
W '='"">t'y. In return
^i^Al-ALGAH's BAY.
expe.ie„ee C n-I^V""''^ "'■
*'" al»o anxious ^' "I"'"'''"''' '
»™t the !1 '^ 'r '*''<' '"'» ac
yo" have -ecXed r°'"- "'"4
/"■■andothe: t r'f,r"'"'
' "'at this run of " """^ ''«"«M
'«' a notninal seMel ™ '"*'
15»' it wa. not Yr,"P™ y°4
3""' have been sv , ""' """
r -i in brSi^" r:tr"v»
^ave brono-I.f . ^- ^ouf
' ™t;i:r:^-'-»°th^l
^ V- i^e sentenpp nf +1
therefore i., th»r '""='""'
'"-o sons aid t^ /°" "'' >''""'
' ^■■"iam cln,'t! ."'"" P'"™^''' I
' ""jest, on ToC'th ""^ «'»
'■»■• the space °fti, ''°^''' "^^^
••-'■-l from re: ^"^' "°'^ "-
rewards nrl,. *^ '""'h pay,
«ons*',~'""^y'«'=dpro„o';'
just due. ;i''D:r-""''' ^°"
of course the "« ^°% is.
Pollard." P"'^ °f Captain
t-To^.rtr'irt"''"'"°'^''>«
'houghtof it wV *'"'""'
^ He stooped over the doek to ki„
"Remember the heartl,.t„
P'-^Wy." he whisperer a, ,"^'"^
"P,>'°'"- heart, aid wait fo"''P
patience, w,- a m °' "^ "'
"Sain. ThotordX;"'".'!"'"^
BAY.
;ou and your party ,,;
' *^« kin./, alemeZy
;"-^^°"« to take into ,,
' g«od character whic)
-ee.ved from your e
-• Iflcouldbeiie;
:" f your.s was a soJi
'«' / vvouJd have infiic.
«al .sentence upon you
"«^' You know t^hat
een •'^ystenuticalJy en-
■^aking the Jaw. You
t"P your sons in your
«• TheJawsot'Eufi.
>t be broken with im-
sentence of the court
that you and your
the fourth prisoner
'P^o«. do serve Hh
>ard the royal fleet
't three years. Dur-
3^ou will not be de-
-eceiving .such pay
^oney, and promo-
te considered your
Dancing PoJjy i^
P'-^^e of Captain
t ^ill, not at his
to see what he
^^"P«t up his
^^ng silence,
^r lordship," Dan
tne kintr ? "
i' the dock to kiss
hearthstone, my
''^^^ "and keep
^ait for us in
^^ come home
less thee I "
FEMINA FURFNS.
49
But it was Will who held me
[ightest.
"Be patient, dear," he whispered,
patient and true. Good-bye."
Then they removed the prison-
irs, and Mr, Copas took me out of
he court.
Next day he sent me in a car-
liage back to Lyme.
It was in the evening that I ai--
rived. Joshua Meech was in the
street. He was dressed in black,
and had evidently just come out
of his meeting-house, so that he
was playing his third part.
"Dispensations !" he groaned,
holding up both his hands. " Oh
Pleasance, Jet us kiss the rod.
Three years aboard the royal fleet!
What a sentence for a young gen-
tleman ! Ropes-ends and cat-o'-
nine-tails, with salt junk. 'Tis the
chastisement of Providence."
" Do not come near me, Joshua,"
I said fiercely, thinking of his last
visit to me. " For three years I
shall see no one."
" Grievous, grievous dispensa-
tions ! " he replied, holding up both
hands and shaking his head. But
there was the joy of revenge in his
eyes. He was glad that my Will
was out of the way for three yeu.rs.
CHAPTER V.
FEMINA FUHENS.
' )R two days I sat at
liome, or walked about
the Holmbush B'ields,'
brooding. The Danc-
ing Polly was gone, she was the
prize of the revenue people. They
had not taken my little boat ;
I might, as of old, put out to sea
and dream, no hmgerof the future,
but of the golden past, on the gen-
tle bosom of the Channel. And of
course, there was the Chace Mary,
which was no good to me. For
two days I thought of nothing but
the sentence. Three years at sea ;
three years on board a man -o'- war;
three years among the rough sea-
dogs who manned our ships ; three
years in a hard and severe service ;
where they flogged the men for
next to nothing ; where the pur-
sers cheated and starved the crew ;
where the food was the coarsest ;
where the rivalry after every ac-
tion was, who could show the big-
gest " butcher's bill ; " where there
was but one saving clause — that
the men fought to win. I knew,
from the talk I had heard, what
manner of thing this service was ;
I knew how hard and rough it
was ; I feared nothing for Dan and
the two boj's, for obvious reasons,
but Will was a gentleman.
And then, he might get killed
in an engagement. Fights were
50
f'^'V.s happening, the,-.
<% b« sumo net' ,, *^ "<>
Ifx'y's .ship Hero hjT ? "'"■
'^'■«''ch shin f. '^"«''" «>e
""■o-ght ho,. ho,„e fe r^t' ""''
""daprtsone, Y"tI'*^'"''»<'-
take them. Thatfa 3 'r: "' '«
wonderful part J M **"""»'
'o'-yuhat'^rh l"'\'^''°'«''fe-
sh'PS better built ,h! "*' °^
f'houghDantel^"'"""-
\- 'o take and deS»«-
-"i one of th
■"^ WiJi, r,^„ ;?" 'engagements,
nieet their end °^'- •"'S^t
■•''5and:::r;;^'-^-n,an
'''•oha.dnot.onb^lt: /d'^one
""•'over, fchtin ^'■' '"'^''antl,
r>''y'^ S«:^;r-^- his'
A cruel «„^ ' "* or ashore
r'^-St ab ! Xf ;': '"-" '-y
f-d eye.,, and eleSd^''^'
'■•ying vainly to hlT f '"'"*,
»"'«vatedJieth'^^^°P.'"^^';when
^"■"edwithag™;!;:'-^'"''"''
"-lien all of „»""!'''"'«'■ hearts;
™W alike, &7"'''»doulti.
"ope and refuZ' ''"'"""• °«'y
0'"lie;,earni^*~"'P''" our knee.,.
"•'•-ppiatHrrtr'^^^-
■nercy, the torture of '''"' °'
'^datlasttoar;ti„;f'*'''^"
'--o---whe„aTtre:!:e*;r
'twas IV TRAL,
^ J«AFALGAII'S liAr.
-prayers XSf", 4
fathoms deeo on »,[,', "" '•>''nsl
o" covered r:::.t*;fH
'and with a few :'l """e^l
"'-npaign.,'^:":^:.:'-''.!
"■^^ *p'hs of dS:
le to the „„., .. _ ™'Pa" I
"-ughtmeothCa,:f "^^'P-
«on which all woir„ /fr'gna-
"ental conflicts, S "'';,;■ '"^h
began to look about f ^''^° ^
°f passing the t: '"•"'"'* -''^
isaac Agus and his wif«
"^y on the farm . ,^ * '*"'""
the farm-it '"""P'od^ce of
-uids^fliclC^hth"'"''-
-d myself. Than ™n'""*-
out, and represented trtb''*"^
labourer wK^ 7 *"® o^d
tension buf T ^^'^'^^compre-
«^and at length that t '^''■
years. ^'"'^^^^ ^^^^^^er for three
^'his settled T C
about the very r.^"; '" ">'"'=
'^PidcIeaJcTofT"'^*'"^ ^d
Of course r"'^°-
•^-hxa whS; ' "Th 'T. '»»
''^r;itm„sthtvebe:n;V'^
~n>e down to lend a hand" if*""
have been Josh,,. """"''tniust
"oiJ ; no one e, *'"' "'""^ the
it. °' *» »onM have done
^here had he ni,t tu
. ™e arrest took n !' '^'''' '
of
HAY.
'JT" J'ou^g feUow f„
tears were shej and
•■= were offered, waaly
'^Pontheshelisofocean
l^»»ewherei„aforeig^
^fev.,„ehe,, „f,^rth
SOS over for ever !
="t hours' jstr ] I ^^uvv, weimu luui-a-uozeu places,
^^ depths of 1 .^Hknown only to ourselves, in which
to thf> rr^„i _^ ." Bwe could stow our mprphanflisA
FEMINA PUKENS.
61
if brandy, each holding four gal-
lons or so.
For one man, single-handed,
hat is a heavy job. It would not
»e possible to^carry the kegs very
ar.
Now, we had half-a-dozen places.
^^thegoalofresigna-
^ women, after such
, ^f' reach. Then J
k <ibout for some
^e time.
way
;^"d his wife would
farm; the produce of
7^8 not much-
^ keep him, his wife,
^^at I soon argued
^«ented to the old
^ashardofcompre-
^^fnaged to under-
' ^^a<^ he was to be
manager for three
'^gan to think
remarkable and
^f the cargo.
°^"st have been
'P J heard in the
^ve been Joshua
^ a hand; it must
who cleared the
^ould have done
it the cargo ?
P^ace at four
en the re venue
'Ok after their
^^ght. Four
3r sixty kegs
we could stow our merchandise
They were scattered about in the
Undercliff. Some were a good
mile from the bay, one or two
were quite close. Joshua,! thought
would take the nearest of all.
This was a place lying quite close
to the path from the bay to
the farm ; to reach it you scram-
bled over a sloping ledge of
loose stones, and you passed
'oy what si med to be a tan-
gled heap of brambles. If you
got to the back of the bushes you
saw •"' J., they covered only a
natvaei hollow, a sort of punch-
bowl, which made the most ad-
mirable cellar in the world,
especially in summer, when the
leaves were thick.
T went straight to the spot, and
pulled aside the branches. Below
me to my great joy, I discovered
the whole of the Dancing Polly's
last run.
Joshua had put it there — care-
ful Joshua ! He had not ventured
yet to sell any of it — prudent
Joshua ! No doubt he would ac-
count to Dan on his return for his
share of the money — righteous
Joshua !
Anvhow whether Jop.hu.R. did
this thing with a view to his own
interest only, or not, it was plucki-
ly done, and well done.
Woman like, I had found a se-
cret, and I rejoiced. Who could
have laid the information ?
No one but ourselves — of whom
Joshua was one — knew. Now,
much as I dreaded the man for his
violence and masterfulness, I
never for one moment suspected
Joshua of this villany. The
loathing, the hatred, the contempt
with which men of a^l classes in
those, days regarded an informer,
were such, that a mother would
have preferred to see her son ly-
ing in his grave than to hear
that he had become such a crea-
ture.
I have heard that a poet has
said that an angiy woman will
dare anything. I think I have
learned from my own experience
that a man from whom has been
taken the girl he loves, will do
and dare anything to win her
back.
The day after I made this
covery, there came to Rousdou
Bay the young fellow belonging
to Captain Pollard's company, of
whom I have already spoken,
John Beer.
He was a good-natured lad, and
had never ceased to regret the
part he played in the case. He
found me sitting in the porch
looking sadly out to sea^.and he
sat down, kindly saying nothing
for awhile. That was good of him.
52
i'i. ill
fl'
m
■^AS ,N TOAPALOAR'S ,UV.
Tat'fr ''"'"''"*'■ -'ft-Kivin,,
^_JJ.at,%aidthe„a„...i3a,,.
"Tell ,„e_ j„, ^
Oh. if I u„lyk„,^,„ ""■'«"■»». I
" Ijonder ,,h„t
Know. Pofl««„„„ o.. '^to^vt
"What is it you want with i«e
Juhn Beer?" '
" Nothi.iy," he said.
Then there was no need for
- o say anything, so I went on
^^th my n^editations, which were
gloomy enough.
n% wanton," he did say that
^ "»gM come over here, and find
out something about the eargo if | . , " ""v ^w..w r
I could ; and he did say, too that L , '^""^^^^' ^^^^^ Jo
he ioped youwouldnVfret an ' *° ^^l^^' ^^e^^ance r
gnz^Ie because, there's more comes I T .^"^ ^^^« ^ *«" ? "
back than 3.ou'd think, and it s thin! TV" "^^^ ^^ --kmg
only for three years. Lord I what's h, "^^^ ^^^^ ^^^ man "J
hree years to a chap. Next ^ onlutt"^^;!^^*^^^^- ^~try
to no hmg-and good fun all the Z. ^^' '^^^^^^'^ window
tm.e knocking over they Fren h t! '^7 "^^ ^ ^^'^^^^-i- Th. 2
'"en like ninepins" ^ ^'^' ^^^" ^"^ him, they think no T
I made no reply. ,^^«^«- ^ ^ in fhe front of th
"About the cargo,Pleasance. It's 'r^f"" ^ '^^''^^ ^^
Ves, Isaid; "lamveryf^Iad ' onpn ?V ^"^ ^^e window was
^-u h '^ got it." ' '''' I ^^:, -^ I both heard and sZ
„ ^^ course you know where it ' ' T.l.
'■\ he went on. with a meaning ' Oh I '''"' "^'^^^ ^^er, tell me '
rL:t!^^ ws si::;;'r?i--^^vetomake;:;
3'ou were in alf the secrets. The
2^amhesaysthatifyouweren
r7r"''«'^-^^"^"»-setshire
^ed have put you in the do.1.
alongside of the rest." '^'
He reflected with a str««.- i,-
mouth. '^^ ^^ his
"There was fifty keo-s if tu
--one,"hemurLt:i Ixtr
^^ay the captain's shire i.
matter of thL ....... '^'"'^^ '' ^
"If I did k„ow,vher. u ■ ..r *™^""* «>?'*•■>'« share i/
-i'J, " I should notl^r; ' to . iT^" "' *•"■- g»~ead " n
.erow."!?.!''"™ '''ten it?
:i^™-on,.u:rhri*^
■" "'^ "^P'^i" «o- But oven he
c^iveThr;"'^°^"'>^^"^^h;il;ri,
"'r/\^^" *« you at once." '
And yet it's a risk Q
^he captain was to ^ou'"^^^^^^^^
How can he find out? "
Vvny, girl.s t="-
tt^tv Wliti.
ou'd
V.
^ave dared, after givin.i
■T-ti on." "'
FFMINA FURENS.
53
give
'^ ^t gave fhe informa-
P'-ang to my feet a)!
'th excitement. " Whn
'ou ?"
'id the man, " is a se-
John Beer, tell me
knew '"
what you would
«ance ?"
1 tell ? "
^«ean and sneaking,
said the man. "I
ntally. I was sentry
captain's window
listened. Thecap-
they think no one
in the front of the
le flagstaff is ; he
2 back, so as no one
t the window was
'^ heard and seen
in Beer, tell me!
?ive to make you
ith a straw in his
^y kegs, if there
t-mured. -'Take
s share, it is a
'ineas ahead. If
them kegs '
fi. you shall; rji
tt once."
r^sk. Suppose
find out."
d out ?"
^ ^-iw. You'd
in a tair — able rage, you would,
easance, if you only knew. It's
e meanest, sneakinirest thino-
er done. That's what it is."
If you will only tell me, I will
lever let out co a single creature
lOVT I got to know. Tell me!"
" Why then, if it's all right about
|hem two kegs, and you* won't
lever let out who told you — and
ionsidering what a mean and
neaking thing it was to do — why,
don't mind telling you. It was no
other — than — ^^ Joshua — Meech
iimseif ! "
I stared at him, incredulous.
'he thing was impossible.
" I tell you,' repeated John Beer,
I seen him. It was the evening
>efore, and at nine o'clock."
Nine o'clock! Then he must
liave gone straight away to give
;he information, after telling me
'hat, whatever happened, I was to
[blame.
"The window was open. The
[captain was reading by the light of
la pair of candles. I heard steps at
the back of the house, crunching
the gravel. Then I heard a knock
at the captain's door. I looked in
at the window, being so placed in
the dark that I could do that with-
out being seen. And I saw Joshua
Meech himself open the door and
walk in. Then I knew that there
was misc'Iiief brewinof."
" Pleasance ! " he went on after
a pause, during which he gasped
with indignation " I knew that
there was villany. And I wish I'd
have put my carbine at that open
window and let him have the,
charge in his face, the scoundrel."
'"Captain Pollard,' he says,
looking more like a devil than a
human man, let alone Dan Gulli-
ver's nephew, ' I've come to lay in-
formation.'
" ' Why ! ' cries the captain, ' In-
formation from you, Joshua Meech ?
Dick Turpin will be laying in-
formation next. Or perhaps Dan
Gulliver.'
" ' I've come to lay information,
sir, against Dan Gulliver.'
" ' You? Against Dan Gulliver?
What is the meaning of this ?
Why, man, you are his partner !
You are his nephew ! '
'"I've come to lay information
against Dan Gulliver,' repeated
Joshua, with a white^face. I was
listening all the while, you may be
sure.
What does it mean ? Have
you quarrelled ? '
That does not matter to you,'
he replied, doggedly. ' I'm come
with that infornifition. Will you
take it, or will you refuse it ? If
you do, I must go to the Mayor
and lay it before him.'
" ' Joshua Meech,' said the Cap-
tain, 'you are a villain. You are
a black, foul villain. Whether this
IS treachery or revenge, you are a
double-distilled scoundrel.'
" Joshua Meech made no reply.
'"I must take your :' "orma-
tion, the captain went on. " li/ is
my duty to take it and act upon it.
51.
'TWAS IN niAFALGAll's I3Ay.
Most informers are poor starving
rlevil.s,whose necessities make tlien'i
enact the pai-t of spy. Vo,, liave
not that excuse. You are bring-
ing ruin upon your uncle, the man
hy whom you have been befriend -
e<l and enriched. It is revenge, I
suppose, for some petty .juarrel.
but such devilisl) revenge I never
heard of before. Go on with your
tale, blackguard and villain !' !
" Ah.rieasance, you all thought, j
at the trial, that the captain glo- j
ried in what he had done. Don't '
you believe that no moi-e. Only
he had to do it, you know. It was
his duty.
" Then Joshua Meech told how
the run over was to be that very
night, how the Dancing Polly was
already gone, and how she would
return the next night
" The captain took it all down.
" ' Is that all ? ' he asked.
That is all,' said Jo,shua.
Then go. Do not breathe the
air of this room with me. Great
heavens !' he cried, starting to his
feet, 'that such a villain should
live in this kingdom of England,
and call himself my fellow country-
man ! Go ! '
" There, Pleasance ; now you
know all."
Yes, this was his revenge. This
was his plan to prevent me from
marrying Will. To make this im-
possible, or to defer it, he had the
incredible baseness to sacrifice his
uncle and his cousins. Was it
possille, could anv miP hnAro h^
lioved that a man should be s„
wicked ?
J sat all that day meditatin.
revenge, thinking in what .vay 1
i could most injure this man. Ono
wild plan after another suggested
Itself to me. J would set fire to
I his mdl. I would secretly destroy
I *h^ti'«e.^in his orchard. I would
I l)ut a stone in the wheels of his
I '«! J. I would go into the town
and tell everybody.
Nothing, however, satisfied me
Kevenge never does satisfy If
his mill was burned he would
build It up again ; but that would
not give me back Dan, and the
boys and Will, and the Dancing
Polly. He could repair any mis-
chief I could do him. Even if I
whispered it round in Lyme Re-
gis that he was the informer, he
would deny it, and I had no proof
because John Beer was bound t i
silence. What then could I d.. ^
in ti 3 evening, still broodin.
over the revenge I was to take J
grew restless and walked over the
fields to the mill itself.
It was a bright night ; the val-
leys which stretch away behind
Lyme lay all bathed in a beautiful
moonlight, everything was peace-
ful and quiet, except the heart of
the girl who went along the lonely
way. She met no one, she saw
nothing, her soul was full of an
inextinguishable craving for ven-
geance ; she was like a tigress be-
reft of her cubs.
'The mill .stood alone in its field
'=^*Si«r«k.,
FEMINA FUKENS.
00
a man .should be so
that day meditating
ikinq- in what way ]
iiijure thi.s man. Ono
ter another suggested
I would set fire to
^ould secretly destroy
is orchard. I would
in the wheels of his
id go into the town
/body.
owever, satisfied me.
er does satisfy. If
burned he would
ain ; but that would
back Dan, and the
% and the Dancing
'uld repair any mis-
do him. Even if ]
round in Lyme Re-
as the informer, he
and I had no proot;
Beer was bound tj
^ then could I d:» ?
ling, still brooding
?e I was to take, I
nd walked over the
11 itself.
?ht night ; the val-
•etch away behind
thed in a beautiful
ything was peace-
xcept the heart of
nt along the lonely
■ no one, she saw
ul was full of an
3 craving for ven-
i like a tigress be-
1 alone in its field,
I silent, and backed by the black
depths of its shadows and the
woods. The top of the big wheel
could be made out standing clear
against tlie sky. Beneath it poured
the waters of the leat, which in the
daytime worked the wheel.
I stole like a shadow through
tiie orchard ; on the other side,
away from the mill, was a linney,
or penthouse, where Joshua's wag-
gon was kept. I sat down on the
broad wheel of the waggon, trying
to put my disordered thoughts into
some sort of shape. I hungered
for revenge — I longed to make him
suffer. I had come here to feel
near to the man on whom I was
going to work revenge.
He was on the other side of the
wall, I thought. He was chuck-
ling, no doubt, over the end of my
love-story, laughing to think that
my lover was ser^uiig before the
mast on one of His Majesty's ships
for three lonnr years. O villain !
It was something to be near him,
■ to feel that one could even kill
him if one had the strength — that
alone was wanting — to think that
close to him one could execute
whatever the mind could conceive.
Presently, as I listened, I heard
voices. Some one was with him
then. I crept from the penthouse
and stepped lightly over the nar-
row flowerbed which stood beneath
the window. The shutter was
closed, but one knew what sort
of a shutter would be that of Josh-
uas cottage at the mill. In fact
it was not even barred, and there
was a hole in it, through which I
saw what was going on. The visi-
tor was our old friend Mr. Mal-
lock, justice of the peace, and he
was talking in his magisterial
way.
" Quite a providence, Joshua" —
he wagged his head till his pui-ple
cheeks shook and wabbled — " that
you were able to rescue the cargo.
Quite a providence. At one time
I thought I should be able to dis-
miss the charge, but it was impos-
sible. Poor old Dan ! Poor boys !
Who was the villain that in-
formed ? "
" I wish we knew, sir,"
" I wish we did, with all my
heart. He would get a warm re-
ception at Lyme, I promise him so
much. However — three years — it
is a long time. You may send me,
Joshua, at the old price — ah ! —
twenty kegs — yes, I think I had
better secure what I can get.
Twenty kegs. Dear me ! Thfey
can come to-morrow morning in
flour sacks, I will pay for them
now."
There was a great counting out
of money on the table. When
Joshua was satisfied that it was
all right, he put it up in a little
bag, and pro.nised to bring the
brandy next morning.
Then the worthy justice of the
peace retired. I slipped back to
my place of concealment, while
Joshua accompanied his visitor to
the door with many expressions of
!9ll|i
56
Mr 11
I
gratitude for his custom and hi.s
condolences.
" You are very welcome, Joshua
very welcome," said his worship;'
"and as for that villain
'TWAS IN TRAFALGAR'S RAY.
He disappeared in the darkness
still muttering what he would do'
iiad he the power, to the scoundrel
who spoiled an honest man's trade
Joshua went back, and I heard
nni bar the door, so that I knew
hewould have no other visitors
Then I returned to my place
and watched him again through
the hole of the shutter.
Hewas rather pale, and his hand
was shaking. No doubt he was
thmkmg of his villainy. I
He went to the cupboard in the '
wall, and drew out a bottle, con- I
^^imng,I knew well, some of poor
Ban Gulhver's best. T wished I '
could dash the bottle in his face as I
lie drank from a wineglass. |
Thebrandygavehirncoura.reI
suppose, for he looked round IL
witJi a more assured air. What he
was saying to himself, I believe
was that nobody knew, except
Captam Pollard, and he certainly
oould not tell. Nobody knew^
Why, withm a short six feet of
where he stood was the girl he had
so foully wronged, burning to be
avenged. *
He tied the bag of money which I
Mr^ Mallock had left with him I
tightly, and ta dng a short thick '
poker which stood beside the an-
dirons, he prised up the hearth-
stone. There he deposited the ba.
and replaced the stone carefully
taking the precaution to sweep
ashes over the edges, so as to con-
ceal the fact of its recent removal.
We all used the hearthstone for our
bank, and we all went through the
trL^^^^^^^^^^^'--^^"^^^^^^^^
This done, he looked around
him again, sighed-with another
thought of his villainy, I suppose
I :rfl'^ ^^'""^^ *^^ «tone bottle which
I held the brandy. One, two, three
glasses in succession of raw spirit
I ^^\^^^^ his nightly custom, or
I !:,^''^t«^^ki«g to drown remorse?
I Then he took the candle, opened
I ^5' f^^^'^hich stood at the bottom
; of the stairs, and stumbled up to
his bedroom. It seemed to me that
Joshua was likely to sleep heavily,
atter all that brandy.
I waited below, motionless, until
tile Jighi was extinguished. Then
i began cautiously to see if I could
open the window. The shutter
was not secured, as I said before
J he window was upon hinges, and
opened inwards. It was a heavy
window, consisting of small square
panes of thick glass, set in lead. I
, ^fted the latch which fastened it
I by means of a small twig. The'
window fell open, I waited for a
^«oment to see if Joshua was
round, and then I climbed into the
room.
What I was going to do was
simply to rob Joshua. That was
part of my revenge. Not to get
any advantage onf nf fu^ . .
,-, — .., mQ money
FEMINA FURENS.
67
the stone carefully,
•ecaution to sweep
etlo-es, so a.s to con -
it.s recent removal,
hearthstone for our
11 went thi-ough the
' of trying to hide
le looked around
led— with another
^'illainy, I suppose
stone bottle which
. One, two, three
sion of raw spirit,
'ghtly custom, or
3 drown remorse ?
le candle, opened
ood at the bottom
stumbled up to
3emed to me that
to sleep heavily,
idy.
motionless, until
nguished. Then
to see if I could
The shutter
s I said before,
pon hinges, and
t was a heavy
of small square
!, set in lead. I
ich fastened it,
ill twig. The
r waited for a
Joshua was
inbed into the
g to do was
a. That was
• Not to get
•' --^le iiioney
for myself at all, but just to de-
prive him of it.
Itwas nothing to me boingwitl^r
out a light in the room. I knew
exactly where everything was. I
first bolted the door of the stair-
case. That would secure me plenty
of time for escape, should Joshua
be roused. Then I took the poker
and prised up the hearthstone
cautiously. Feeling in the dark, I
discovered one, two, three — eight
bags, all tied up, and all cimtaining
money. Now I was (piite certain
when I laid my hands upon those
bags, that I was not only going to
take some of Joshua's money, but
all of it. He kept his whole store,
all his savings in that hiding-place.
I ought, at this length of time, to
feel ashamed at the baseness of my
revenge; but I cannot. I suppose
I ought to repent of what I did —
but I cannot. The wrong was so
bitter, the villainy was so unutter-
able, that I have only to think of
my own feelings that night, and I
justify myself at once. It was de-
lightful to me to feel that I was
taking the whole of his money. I
hoped that its loss would ruin him.
When the bags were all out, I
carefully put back the hearth
stone.
Eight bags. There were no
more. I laid them all together on
the table, felt in the drawer for
the ball of string which the prac-
tical mind of Joshua made him
always keep there, and tied them
all together, and attached about
three yards of string by which to
hang them in their place.
There must have been a good
sum of money in the whole, be-
cause the bags were pretty heavy
to carry. T dropped them cau-
tiously out of the window, crept
outside myself and carried away
the bags.
The great undershot wheel of
the mill occupied, as we know
already, one end of the building
which formed both mill and cot-
tage. It stood there, under a
broad sloping penthouse of heavy
thatch, which made it dark on the
brightest day. Once, long before,
when the wheel was stopped for
some repairs, I held it in its place
by a wooden spoke, and amused
myself by climbing to the top
under this projecting roof. It
was a girl's trick and rather a
dangerous one. I got no good,
not even the nest which I ex-
pected to find ; but I saw, hidden
away in the darkness, a great
hook, stuck in the wall. What it
was originally placed there for I
do not know, but it was so high
up, so hidden by the wheel and
the black shadows of the roof,
that it was quite invisible from
below. That was the place for my
bags. First, I succeeded, by tying
a spoke of the wheel to one of
the beams in the woodwork, in
keeping the wheel, over which
the water was no longer running,
motionless, while I climbed up.
Then 1 mounted the wheel, which
ri-^
IS.
08
^v^l'll
'twas in TUAFALGAR'a BAY.
^^^ now Ifke a la.ldor, an<l da.n- I Farm I h„ M •
''ered „p three or four of the nn T ^''''"'''' ^« ^'^>. an,|
the wall close nn,l... !ll^' \^''' "'« that night. But first I
the wall close under the roof.
Here fo,t ,hout in the darkne,s«
, ! ^ ^'^""'l the hook, and then
to .t f iowei-ed the bags slowly
•nto he black water beneath I
heard above the noise of the fall-
ing water the splash of the bags
I felt them touch the botton., and
*^'y;j^ ^ ^r^^t gladness in my
h art thinking of Jo.shua's rage
when he should find out his lo^s
i cautiously descended from the'
perilous perch, untied the .spoke
and considered what to do next '
1 he first temptation-a childish
one-was to hurl stones at his
bedroom window, so as to awaken
hnn and bring him down ; but I
abandoned that idea, as another
and a more brilliant one occu;Ted
to me.
Joshua had .sold twenty kegs out
of the cargo to Mr. Malloek, the
justice of the peace. No doubt
he had an^nged, or was arranging
for the sale of all the rest. No
tloubt. too, he intended adding the
proceeds of this transaction to the
pile-aha ! the pile beneath the
hearthstone.
I set ofl' to run almost the
whole of the way back to Rous-
don, under the impulse of this
new idea which filled my mind.
It was about eleven o'clock as I
should judge. It took me nearly
an hour before I got to Rousdon
— jjui, nrst 1
went into the house, found some
;;"PPer, and procured certain
handy tools neces.sary for my pur-
pose. ■^ ^
Had I time to do it ? ft had
taken nearly fourhours to remove
the cargo of the Dancing Polly
from the boat to the hiding-plac.^
Could I do what r proposed in
I would try.
There certainly was no stronger
g^rl tharr myself .long the whole
«hore. The life I had led in the
open air; the rowing, sailing and
fishing; thegardening. the rambles
an. climbs among the crags of the
Holmbush Fields and Pinhay
Point,- the sea-bathing, the gen-
erous b t «i„pl, diet; all these,
^dded to a physique to which
J)ame Nature had been ^ene-
rous, made me active and mus-
cular above the average even of
young women living like myself
^et It was a heavy task which I
proposed to effect.
It was nothing less than to cai-
ry every single keg down to the
seashore, turn outthe contents fill
hem with sea-water, and carry
^east Two hundred journeys up
and down that steep cliff, eacitim!
with a weighty burden. But the
thought of Joshua's consternation
when he should discover it .ave
me courage. *
^?4w.
FKMINA FUIIENS.
59
d business to do, and
be no thou;|rht of bed
"'^'ht. But first J
8 house, found soni..
procured certain
lecessaiy for my pur-
5 to do it? rtha<l
four houi-8 to remove
tlie Dancing Polly
to the hiding-place,
vhat I proposed in
nJy was no stronger
If idong the whole
e I had led in the
owing, sailing and
lening, the rambles
ngtiie crags of the
Ids and Pinhay
bathing, the gen-
i diet; all these,
lysique to which
had been gene-
active and mus-
average even of
^ing like myself
vy task which I
less than to car-
:eg down to the
the contents, fill
ater, and carry
Fifty kegs at
■ed journeys up
P cliff, each time
irden. But the
s consternation
iscover it gave
When I hud got all but six or
^even down the clitt' another
thought struck me. There were
two kegs for my informant, John
Beer. It would not be fair to irive
liini sea-water after the service he
luid don.' me. There was also tlie
poor old rector. What wouM he
do without his brandy i And, un-
less I provided for liim, he would
get none till Dan and the boys
came home again. So I removed
the last six, and carried them away
to a place where I was pretty cer-
tain Joshua would not tliink of
looking for them. And then I
proceeded to the next part of my
task.
The kegs were now all in a row
upon the beach, lying on their sides.
I went from one to the other, and
with my hammer and chisel forced
out the bung from every one. In
a few minutes the smooth water of
the little bay was salt-water bran-
dy-gi"og, rather weak, and the kegs
were empty.
To fill them again quickly was
moro difficult. I had to take off
shoes and stockings, tuck up skirts,
and wade in the water, carrying
each keg separately. It was now
gi'owing late. I must have been
at work five hours, and yet
the kegs had all to be carried
back.
Well, it was done at length;
The day was breaking as the last
keg was laid in its place, and the
brambles pulled together to hide
ujciu. me tiae nau come up in
the bay, and washetl away Jill
traces of the brandy which had
been spilt so freely on the stones,
I sat down, and tried to think so-
berly what I had done.
^. villain was punished ; the
meanest, most treacherous, mo.st
cold-blooded scoundrelismever per-
petrated had received some sort of
fit reward. In a few thiys, per-
haps in a few hours, the traitor
would find his hearthstone prised
up, and his treasure gone. A few
hours more and he would discover
that his prize from Dan's unlucky
run was not worth the kegs which
contained it.
And yet I was unsatisfied. All
this would not give me back my
lover, nor bring home Dan and the
boys, nor undo the misery of the
past three weeks. I thirsted fin-
more revenue.
When I rose to go home the
splendid sun was rising over the
waters of the Channel, and the
morning was clear and bright. Far
off on the horizon I saw the sails
of a gr-eat fieet. It nmst be Nel-
son's fleet. Among the ships,
somewhere, were those I loved,
going away to sea, to face battle,
sudden death, shipwreck, plague,
and pestilence, all by the act of
one man.
I lay at home all that morning
asleep. At twelve o'clock Mrs.
Agus, surprised at my long sleep,
awakened me, and brought me
some dinner.
Then I began to think again.
no
'¥i
I
'ntho afternoon arrived my ov
"Wave you done anythin.r to
-^•■d,unU.vathle,s,svvay..sutl.at
,,;'"' ^'^ "-^^ ''^^vo hoard .son.e-
'TWAS m THAKAlAiAU's BAY.
til in''
" Dono anything ? "
Hes been robbed ofaUhi. money
Hes been tearing round town all
^ «-'^^o'Ihopetheinfor.
mation money wa,s with it too,
VVho could have rohlH^d him?"
" )^^o ^'"i^l^l ? " I eclioed.
^hoha,I a spito against him. Who
^utyouhada.spite?OhPleaHance
feasance -it's a hanging matter."'
Bunt talk wild," 1 ,epjied.
-tf Joshua 1.S robbed .so much the
l>etter. I am glad of it."
John Beer shook hi.s head He
was only half satished.
"To be .sure," he said, " IVe
«een gipsies about. Vou know best.
VV..I1, .„,1 how about the ke" I n '■ , '""^" ^-''•'» ^-l » t
Plcasanoe ? " '"'>^'- I D" an.1 all „f them a>vay to ,ea
Pleasance ? "
"I will give you the kegs at
once, ,f you will do me an:ther
favour Nay, ifc i, not to tell me
more about Joshua; I know quite
r"f- ^^^'^-^^yto carry some
brandy to Parson Burden s''
.-'Why, m Jo that," he said
briskly, "and more, for your .sake"
He took the wheelbarrow, and
very soon was trundling mv r.re
«ent, which I had resolved to say
was Dans, to the good old rector
On the way he mentioned casu-
.>,ijy that a ni'(>«u ..o^
n,.; 11 , ^'•'^^-ffang was in tho
n"«hl,o„,.ho.H.. .Th..y,|o,.'tkn„;v
Bi.t lata- „„ ( .started, remc.n
bern,,, that J„„h„„ had „C j
to ;Wn..,. twenty ke,.s that „:;'
:^;.7;','^'f.',"'JVb.eak he would
,, "', '■'■' '"<lm(;-plac.e. Another
"luiiflit struck nic.
1 had no doubt, knowing the
na"..-o of the business, and Z
''-to made after a run to get the
'"rgo safely stowed away and dk
P-« of; that Joshua intenJea'';
^ke,aUn two loads, probably
one that n,r„ing and one the
" '■ . ■""" '"■■'»''"lgn«" a fatal
power „,to„,y hands. I turned the
thought over in my „,;„,, ti„i J
»meare-„lut,o„,cle«randdete.
"""Bd. y,„ee j„,,,„^ ^^,,
he should go too.
W course they could not take a
■"'lier from his mill-no. Butsup.
pose Joshua was caught, in boat-
">".sr,g; handling his kegs in
Kousdon Bay ;
When John Beer ha<I taken the
. etor h-s brandy, and carried off
h.s own to some .secure place which
he knew of, probably to a friend
.nth town, a burning desire came
ove me to see Joshua Meech face
tofece, and to triumph over his
imsfojtunes. Tired ..r
,. iiieci as 1 was with
t'KMINA FURFNS.
(il
"Tlu'yfbn'tknoH'
%»'it', el«o they'. I
for a (lay or two,
:^'l few . sui iocs n.o.v
♦-''^tys sliips wfion
ona its biLsineMN."
'""ngat the time.
f started, rcmem-
ua had proiuiHed
'' kegs that niorn-
5iybieal< ho would
-piace. Another
le.
l^t, iciiowing the
'«"iess, and the
I i-un to get the
'I away and di.s-
'«a intended to
ionds, probably
r and one the
idge put a fatal
Is. I turned the
mind till it be-
:lear and deter-
Hia had sent
I avN^ay to sea,
uld not take a
-no. Butsup-
ght, in boat-
liis kegs in
ad taken the
d carried off
■ place which
to a friend
desire came
Mtecli face
ph over his
I was with
my long night's work, I hastened
to put on my hat and set off once
iiior.! for my three-mile walk across
the fields.
I cannot pretend iu anything
but a feverish joy that ho far my
weary head suffered. I knew how
mean and parsimonious he was,
how he had pinched and saved,
denynig himself luxuries and liv-
ing hnrdly, in order to feel richer
every day. I was quite certain
that his chief pleasure was to open
his hiding-place secretly and count
his treasures. I rejoiced to think
how, in these moments, there was
mixed up a feeling that he was
saving up for me, and how that
memoiy would be an add^'lonal
stalj for him. For me ? Was it
possible, even without his super-
human wickedness, for me to '..ok
upon another man after my glori-
ous Will ?
So he had already found out his
loss. That vv^as strange. Did he
then look in the morning to see if
it was safe ? But perhaps the open
window and the hanging shutter
awakened his suspicions. I should
soon know. As I drew near the
mill, and looked down upon it from
the top of the steep lane leading
from the high road, I could not help
feeling the contrast between the
beauty of the place and the angry
passions of its master and the girl
who was going to visit him. But
1 had to hide my indign.Lion, I
composed my features as well as I
could, and erosaud his oichai'd.
Jf)shua was sitting on the bench
outside the mill. The wheel wa>
slowly going round and round,
with its monotonous .sound, and
the mill was at work. Hut its ujas-
ter sat motionless, his head on his
hands. He was trying to think
who could have robbe<l him.
" Joshua ! " I cried ; " Joshua I
What is the matter :' Are you
asleep ? "
" I wish I was,"he replied hoarse-
ly. " I think I shall never be able
to sleep again. What do you want,
Plea.sance ^ "
" I came to tell you, Joshua, that
I saw the fleet pass along the hori-
zon this morning. It must be Nel-
son's. Dan and the rest must l>e
aboard one of the ships."
" Ay, ay ; no doubt. Well, they
— they — they will get through it,
I daresay."
" Oh, Joshua, what a villain must
he be who informed against them !
What could we do to that villain
to punish him properly ? Tell me,
Joshua."
" Do— do i What could we do '.
Put him in the duck-pond, I sup-
pose," he replied wearily.
" That would not be half enough,
Joshua. I should like tu take away
all his money "—he started— "and
to tell all the world, and .send him
away forever with the curses of
the people."
" Ay," he said, " never mind the
informer, Pleasance ; listen to me.
I've been robbed."
" You, Joshua '. You robbed ?"
62
'twas in tkafalgar's bay.
" I've been robbed of every far-
thing J l,ad. All in -okl-all tied
up in bags— all tlie money I've
been saving for years."
"AH the money you saved to
marry me with ?"
" It is all gone."
"Then you can't marry me,
which will be removing a tempta-
tion, Joshua. But who could have
done it ? "
" I don't know. I can't tliink.
Go away, Pleasance, and let me
think by myself."
" Is there anyone who is at en-
mity with you, Joshua ?"
He shook his head. I
"Anyone whom you have !
wronged, Joshua ?" |
A Hush crossed his face. " Go,
ohild. You can do nothing, leave
nie alone."
" Joshua,"! said, retreating*" you
are a Methody. Remember what
you said to me : ' Patience, and kiss
the rod.' "
I found next morning, on inves-
tigating the cache, that t^venty
kegs of the salt-water had been
taken out, no doubt at daybreak.
I rowed to Lyme, sought out John
Beer, and revealed my new plot.
He at once fell in with it. The
press-gang was in hiding some-
where at Up Lyme. Four of them I
would be enough to effect the cap- i
ture. He would tell them where
to go, and what they were to ex-
pect—a d(!termined man who
would fight for his liberty, but a
good sailor.
They were tolie concealed anion.,
the rocks, just under the hidin.^^|
place of the cargo. They were to
wait until they heard their victim j
climbing down the zig-zag roa.l,
and then they were to effect th(>ii'
seizure. Above all, they were to i
take care not to let him be seen in
Lyme, Up Lyme, Bridport, or any
of the places round, where he'might
be known.
Now this seemed to be a really
splendid piece of revenge. The
other things were very well in
I their way, but incomplete. Joshua
j was, no doubt, mad with rage at
I being robbed of his money, but he
I would recover in time. 'aIso he
would be enraged beyond expres-
sion at losing his brandy. Still he
would recover from that blow.
But how would he recover from
the blow of being pressed and sent
to sea ?
All that night I did not sleep. I
heard towards daybreak the foot-
steps of the press-gang as they
crept down the road to the bay.
And then I went out in the dark
to see for myself what would hap-
pen.
About four o'clock I heard the
noise of Joshua's waggon- wheels,
and then I— I was sitting among
the rocks, wondering when the last
act of my revenge would be com-
pleted— I saw his figure in the
moonlight, as he strode down the
rough way, with the certain tread
of one who knew the path, and
had trodd«3n it hundreds of iime.s.
FEMINA FURENS.
63
)Iie concealed anjoiioj
t under the hidin-J
irgo. They were to I
( heard their victiin
1 tlie zig-zag roadj
were to effect theii
e ail, tliey were to |
let him be seen in
le, Bridport, or any
md, where ho'iiiig] It
rned to be a i-oally
of revenge. TJic
^ei-e very well in
ncomplete. Joshua
mad with rage at
his money, but ho
n time. Also he
d beyond expres-
hramly. Still he
fiom that blow.
he recover from
jpres.sed and sent
1 did not sleep. I
lybreak the foot-
ss-gaug as they
road to the bay.
' out in the dark
what would hap-
lock I lieard the
waggon-wheeLs,
3 sitting among
ng when the last
J would be com-
i« h'guie in the
fcrode down the
he certain tread
r the path, and
idrods of times.
His face was shaded by his hat
and I could not see that.
He went straight to the place
where his treasure lay, and roughly
pulling away the brambles, he be-
gan to take out the kegs. Appar-
ently, from his composure, he had
not yet leai-ned from the worthy
justice the nature of the new mis-
fortune.
As he began the work, I heard
other footsteps. They were those
of the foui» sailors. I saw them,
but he did not — being intent u[)on
the job — come cautiously out of
the shade of the rock. There was
not much to climb — about twenty
feet — and they took it, having
Joshua well in sight, with a rush
and a shout.
Joshua sprang to his feet and
turned upon his assailants. They
carried cutlasses, but ^^ese were
not drawn, and each '.j,d a stout
short cudgel in his hand. Joshua
fought like a madman. One after
the other he hurled his assailants
from him. He was a splendidly
strong man. But the others came i
like bulldogs, they had now caught
hold, and they would not let go.
When it was all over, he stood
with bleeding face and head, and
arms pinioned close to his siiles.
He could make no more resist-
ance.
" Now, mate," said one of the
men, "you come quiet, or we'll
make you that quiet as you'll nev-
er want to sing no more."
All the rest growled acquies-
cence. They had had enough of
fighting for that bout.
"But what's all this T' The
leader pointed to the kegs, three,
or four of which Joshua had al-
ready brought out and laid upon
the grass.
" Brandy," said Joshua.
The men looked at one another.
" A gimlet," said the pinioned
Joshua, " is in my pocket."
One of them drew out the gim-
let, and bored a hole. Joshua
shook his head cheerfully. No
doubt they would all get drunk,
and he would escape.
" Never a pannikin, be there,
mate?" tl . man asked his pri-
soner.
Joshua shook his head.
Then I laughed to myself. For
the maT who bored the hole lifted
the keg, and poured what he
thought was brandy into his open
mouth.
" Faugh — waugh — pr — rt ! "
" What's the matter ? "
" It isn't brandy at all. Faugh
— waugh ! It's sea water."
" It'sbrand3^" said Joshua.
" Drink it yourself, then."
He lifted the keg. Joshua
drank.
He too behaved in the same sur-
pi'isiug manner.
" It was brandy three weeks
ago," said Joshua, despairing.
Then he sat down, saying no
more, while the men tried the
other kegs with the same result.
They all contained sea-water.
■Oi
'^"■-^ '" mPx,.o.«., ,^^
•■ (Jot any „o "'^'-UAB-s uj,y.
pair. ■"»>» »f ™,„plete de,,. 1,^ 1 '1°' " '"S^'^'' »ilor i,
l^^^yo-a Not :,t'tf;'"'" into go-do, H?t7>°"- DolethiJ
T^his here," .said one «; Pre-'s hi,,,. He L ,??""""■■" "»'
good a sailo,. ,„ u ■ '"' '" '"""h too
'odou-^thti, ? ''"■>'o" =
.,^^"^''>on,,".,„idj„„,„^
for brandy Jr'"^ '° «« tl.e,n
''" them tilT ^°" *■«■""« 'o
"T,, oiJgo wate,'?"
^ ley wei'e full „c ',
woelcsajro ",.„„ T? '"andy three
-""Ik'„;w.?""'^'"-''-"That
"'« "'o,,), as if ',':': ''=''^«'- gave
ju!:";,;:,:"r- -^-^"■■"
'"■*"g-i"aooJth""rV"r'" '"y I
P'oWyclearthen-!an'r'« ' ""^
*"ocl«.,o.„*: ""^J ran up over
"P on the :::,'";:' '"-hi,,, J
^ 'night have be.„ ^^"^ "' if J
"■: -i- of ti'eXhTtr" ^-^
outt„»ee,vhatitC^"^'™«l
Preas-gan.-it ' f f" """~i' i» a
-iiorata?/;,,";;"^^'?"-'-
no right .. '"™ ""'y have
"Oh Joshua-Jo.,,, „ ,„.,
thw,sve,y ,,ad! Wo^'v, '?•
"ontyou Jet
good a sailor to h. """""'='"""
hiwgo!" '^ '"= P'-^sed. DoJ,i
^et him o-o ? " „ • , ,
^ flench pnC '' ^'"^^^'^^^^ -
"^^' Joshua, Joshua f" r • .
astheydrag-o-edhim! ''"'^''
<^"evous disn^n . • '"P^^sations ;
ghapter VI
^^Dr CAMpro.v.
,'i;^«HT. '0 have l.en
„ ' ""PP'"=-* girl in the
-hoJe world, because I
had craved for f„|, ,.<,.
-uidh:ttri\^''°<'y
Actively tharisCa^tad^r'"
P>>vcd him 0, ,,, J^J "^d de-
n>or>ey, which he love !, u- '"'^
--evertr::hr4j:t£
I'ev
r
'so.
loni
not
wh(
thir
I time
f end.
It
' Nov
mus
boys
thou
of hi
tomj
lauor}
o
unac(
along
cause
luan <
with
neck.
perhaj
aspect
BAY.
'*""'• And an the b^r
^'■''"■me'Oh.doiet,"
.'""'"■eguiar sailor
■-n injeod he i. ^l
-« .so handy aboard th,,
"•'^the be.,6 boatoa,,
<■» be pressed. Do le.
LADY CAMPION.
natter of brandy wliich had not
baid the duty; and of his personal
liberty, because they M^ere quite
fcertain, once they had him on
oard, not to hit so smart a sailor
65^
-'^^ cnedtheboat-
^^^^^-'Ifliefchin,
"ay be smothered in
on."
a,Joshua!"leried,
;^^^^«^awaypinio„ed
^^spensations '
^««tions//,etuski,,
TER VI,
^T to have been
ppiest g-irl in the
^•^orld, because I
aved for fujj ^.g.
'•^ ^^ Nobody
P"»^hed moi-e
^^"a. I had de-
y^^^ing: of his
^ed; ofhisre-
'^e was proud,
lost certainly,
» again in the
Yet revenge does not satisfy,
nd it cannot atone. No amount
|of suffering and sorrow restores
the shattered past; you cannot
bnnga murdered happiness into
[life by hanging the murderer. All
this I did not understand, and sat
[alone in my cottage, or wandered
alone on the Undercliff, seeking
satisfaction in the memory of my
revenge, and finding none.
Three weeks or a month passed
so. Had I lived much longer in this I
loneliness-for I spoke to no one '
not even to the faithful old woman
who took care I did not starve— I
think I should have gon- mad with
much brooding. But there came an
fend.
It was on a sunny forenoon in
November, I was thinking how it
must be out at sea for Dan and the
boys, and wondering whether Wi. ■
thought of me as much as I thought
of him, and trying to bring b^ck
to my mind his hand.sbme face and
laughing eyes, when I saw a most
unaccustomed sight. There came
along the lane, riding slowly, be-
cause the road was rough, a gentle-
man dressed in an immense cloak
with a fur collar, buckled at the
neck. He was a middle-aged man
perhaps turned fifty, and of grave
aspect. 13-1 • 1 ' •
: va,.ts, each of whom carried at the
back of his saddle a small leather
trunk.
The gentleman looked about
him curiously. The place, left now
to the charge of the two old peo-
ple, was already beginning, to show
sign.s of neglect. I sat in the porch
half hidden by the great fuchsia-
tree. Heseemedtobelookincrfor
some one to speak to. The .servants
I ^ode up to him, and they ail then
I consulted.
i.v"^^T V° ''^^'' '^«"«ebut
this m the place. ItmustbeGul-
f liver's Farm."
I I emerged from the porch, anrl
went to ask of whom the gentle-
man was in search. He took off
his hat politely.
" ^^" are Miss Pleasance Noel ?'"
he asked.
" Yes sir, I am Pleasance."
It was so seldom that I heard
my surname, that I had almost
forgotten its existence.
"You are the young lady of
; whom I am in search. You are a
-a friend, I believe, of Mr Wil
lam Campion, son of the late Sir
trodtrey Campion."
"He is my sweetheart," I re-
plied.
Then the gentleman smiled dis-
mounted, and gave the reins to one
or the servants.
.. " ^ *"" f ^'" Huntspill." he said.
I have the honour to be a part-
ner in that firm ; I am travelling
ror t.hA W/^.,^„ • ii . «
i^uxiieu nrty, and of grave for the Hnno • C '""*"'""^'
Robm.n.;.> ,,„._.^ ,' ^ ^^® ^o"se in the southern
■ "" ^"^^ ^"" '''- ' ^^"»"««' I am also, I may boast;
! PHI
T
J|i
66
'TWAS IN TRAFALGAR'S RAV.
'" tho confidence of Mr Willi i
o' a pr,..ate mtervie,^ with you »" ,„ " fi* ."'""" "' "™"te whie
Th,,s wa. very , ■„,,„,; ^^ ; '"^.'^^ the y„u„g , " ^'>
e .ay ,„t„ the ho,.e and hejel X t' '"^'"""'""r position. H ," '
"m to be seated; at the .same Ifme t? T" °' '' i" time, such
f offered him a glass of bmndv '""'"'"''^ »' 'ho hous; and '
•f ;;:-« hi„, i,. the weds o?S r^r^ T "■" --iee^ of ihe tl '
^"'I've., that it was right good f "; ''""^'i' ("f pious m moM
mast!— n« u„.,.., _^«rore the
on prmc pie exemf tl, • "!""»,
i F<e, except their own mm
«<1 that is duty paid ■' '
He meant the ia^t fact as an ad
rttT,T''"'"'-''oo„f:.
-that the rum was of inferior
■• twJ !T ''"'''™<''" '"' *«nt on
two letters, part of which r pro-'
pe to communicate to you l",
feet young lady, they immediate;
concern you. The fli^t i. e.
Ml-. William." ' '^'°">
iTHiT '°"' ™o-of"r,::h:;:
2«- Majestys fleet. He say'.
Mr w ^"^ness alone reign.'"
^i^i- Huntspill read fl^ic
very impreli4^^.|:^P-^;
ui u , ^ -"^ bowed, and f
jn;u„d,i:^:,rnrg;rur
He opened a great leathern pock '"^"""'^fon, thinking howiito
et hook and p^dueed twole!tet "eXra ""'' "-"^ ^^ ' ^^ ^
" pZtd 1 r:"^^ "! -'>-'' Virtu,
„T . .^ "^^' "wu letters.
I '-eecved this," he said. " te„
'%s ago, being then in the WlWe
of Br,ghthelmstone, and immldl
^ -o'ved upon travS;
I' ther to acquaint you with the
«-.shes of Mr. Wilham
played so poor a part.
Z ^"«<^«Piii went on • " ' Vho
worth of her hear^ ,•« -n x
andimrJa illustrated
and made apparent to the world
by the extraordinary beauty of h
face and pers..'_oh Win, W'im
J-msme,first,oftheJa.
^ain of events which
jounnr gentleman in-
iclioly position. Harl
>f it in time, such is
o* the house, and so
le services of the late
(of pious memory)
^aml certainly should
^ fcne immediate re-
^^liam, and probably
I the others. But
W not allow him to
he news to us. The
f on the road to
Jience he is to be
heavens! the son of
sailor before the
■f one of the ships
s fleet. He says
unlucky accident,
ar good fortune to
tions of a young
' soul, I believe,
sss alone reign.'"
>ad this passage
7' repeating the
ue and goodness
' howed, and I
satisfaction at
ious words, but
'king how little
nd how I had
in which virtue
rt.
nt on ; " ' Tjj^,
is illustrated
to the world
beauty of her
Oh Will, Will;
LADY CAMPION.
67
— " ' She has promised to make me
happy by becoming my wife. The
jiromise remains to be fulfilled on
my return, should a benignant
Providence grant my return to my
native shores. 1 have told you,
my generous friend, the whofe of
iny story. You will, I am sure,
continue to behave to me with the
same ' that is not part of the
business," said Mr. Huntspill, inter-
rupting at this point. " He goes
on presently : ' I have written to
my mother — who must on no ac-
count discover the degrading situ-
ation in which I have been placed
—stating, which is perfectly true,
that I am going to sea for a long
voyage, in which I may visit many
lands, and that I hope to pay my
duuiful respects to hei- on my re-
turn. I have also informed her of
my proposed marriage with Pieas-
ance Noel, and begged her, as a
mark of her forgiveness and con-
tinued love, to receive my betrothed
in her own house, and, during my
absence, to have her instructed in
the practice of those external ac-
complishments which alone are
wanting to make her an ornament
to the polite world. Goodness, my
dear friend, is at all times better
tlian rank.'
" It is indeed," said John Hunt-
sinll, folding up the letter. " With
this, which was forwarded to me
from London, came a letter fron» |
Lady Campion herself, a portion of
which I will also read to you."
^x. naa luiig ueen my resolu-
tion,' she .says, ' to attempt no fur-
ther interference with my son's
plans of life. His devotion to a
musical instrument, especially
when that instrument is the com-
mon fiddle, seems to me inconsis-
tent with the sobriety of a London
merchant; his readiness at all
times to forsake the counting-house
for a conceit < . a play, seems to me
unworthy of the seriou-sness which
should characterize a churchman ;
while his roving habits hold out
little hope of a steady futui-e. I
have now learned that he has jzone
to sea, aftei- contracting an engage-
ment of the most serious charactei-
with a young woman, apparently
of humble oriofin.' "
"'My father was a ship's car-
penter," half in pride and half in
explanation. Beiore I knew Will
I had alway., regarded that rank as
exceptionally dignified.. But I was
quite aware that Lady Campion
would hardly be likely to think so
highly of the position.
" Quite .so," said John Huntspill.
"A most respectable and useful
vocation. Let me continue : ' In
justice to her and to myself, I
should wish to make her acquaint-
ance. Will you, therefore, make it
your business to see her. Com-
municate with her friends, and tell
them that I propose to receive hei-
in ray poor hou.se. And should she
wish to remain and I to keep her
with me, I undertake to bestosv
upon her whatever les.sons and ed-
ucation she may yet require to befit
68
h
|M i
her for the station to ^,,,,,1,,^
hath ra ,od he,-. V„„ ,„ l^^j^ »
'"'■■ '«* "ith ,.„,, „„j,. '";
own pivtjotion.' ^
"Such, Mias Pleasanco," ,sai,|
"»;iatoy„,,bvI,a<lyC.4iorj
w. .o,„,«.te„,,t„,ayil,,l,^'
youv iionch.
„ d7„ ''"^7 f"™')'." I replied.
"I>o you mear, that tou are
alone, aUsolutely alone T„ ft I
. " ^"^^« alone," I said. " OnW
•n the cottage there are Isaa.>\o^
^^nd his wife. I live 1 ^"'
1 , ^® aJone ar^I
-eep alone here. I thou<-ht I
^^ooM,o„,,iWn,a,,ne.o;.ol,e
it fe »ado at ;.;, Wi„i ',r'*'-'
request. She Mill'-,. , "^
■■N^»T •, ^ ^™"'n'°*er."
INO. J .><n.i,l <f T --
'T^AS m TRAFALGAR'S „ay.
orrr-";""'-'--^"-
' "" "f good courao-e and ..„
, solve that when M,- Wir'l
! ".an real!.,";... "''^"'''■'■»™ more
eou!-'!'- '''■*''"'"''■ ■""»■■ from en-
cou ag,ng „e, rather d.:.„ted Z
Torthemome»jt Af+«r, r
.'rtwtrr''"''''''-^-''^"
Wu^ied. For in truth I had
not.Mng to trave.i
war Irob onlv • "" ""''o'"
do.u,fr,.;k'i:7T''<'°fh^lf-a-
Willhartr: " *"^""'''''«h
me. ""*'^ '» '" "ado for
MrHuntspill read „y thought,
-ihere arp sJinr... ,v T °
«aid. "Iwill.f ^ ^^°^^'"^e
town and n!?"''"^'^"'^*^^
. ! ^"^ purchase for vnu fi,
«^n^ple necessaries requ Lit. f
youno. iadv'« ,-.„...^ ^"'''^" ^^' a
"\T '. T . '^^""^ mother." i «,-„,^] r--*^ ■««-»« lor you th^
this wnnl.7 !,„ n . r^* new life
g;-ly/.thochie..tp,S;:
""'.upward.ina.rehrrS
thi^ would be which L"'" "'"
before nie "' "P^'-'g
'"°-. and was w';,' ' ^''"P ^^
on agate.
tJie qualities u-hich
ho loves u,s, doth in
"l>utetou,s. There-
i courage, and re-
" ^^r. WiJliam re-
^fJ his dreams more
ch,sofarfromen-
'■^-'"'^'r d,.mted me
^'^■'terward^, Tl^hen
^'cr it and tn^k^
'^"'^'t. r thin?, t't
■go.
^ J'ou be ready ?"
• in truth I had
:"• ^J^ ^vho]e
listed of is.alf-a-
<> 5>e made for
^ my thoughts.
in Lyme," he
e ride into the
^01- you the
^quisite for a
^ to London.
Jr protection,
For the pre-
I wish you
' iny finger
gone. Pre-
ying sJowJy
at down to
t new life
^-s opening
^hom he
protection
ed up his
•n a e-afp
LADY CAMPIO>f.
It seemed inhospita^'le not to ask
him into the house, and I did so,
inviting him to sit down, greatly
to his surprise. Ho refused to sit
in my presence, but was pleased
to accept such a meal as I was able
to offer liim, with two or three
glasses of the brandy which never
P»i'i duty. This part of the en-
tertainment, indeed, affor.Ied the
honest fellow infinite gratification.
it was about two o'clock in the
afternoon wlien Mr. HuntspiH re-
turned, his servant carrying a box
before him, and leading a horse on
winch was a lady's .saddle. I
When in my own room I was
dressed in the new clothes, I hardly
knew myself. A long black habit
for nding, gloves, a hat and veil
all sorts of little things of which I
hardly knew the use, neatly packed
m a leathern valise. I finished
my preparations at length, and
came downstairs— dressed like a
young lady. But I could hardly
have looked one, because I felt
awkward and constrained in my
new attire. Mr. Huntspill bowed
politely.
" The most beautiful girl," he
said, repeating Will's dear words,
" on all the southern coast."
That wa^ all very well. But how
would beauty give me courage to
face Lady Campion ?
We were to start at once. But
69
a sudden thought struck me. The
heartlistone ! Dan's last words
were to remember the hearthstone.
T ^^::::^:^':'^T ""'■ I -^ afraid to say how mnnh
- „aci ..een f. ..... use Jo.nua put i there was under the heartnstone. It
his, and I had every reason < j be-
lieve that Dan's was, in the same
manner, his own bank, the place
where he conHded his single talent
so that it could by no means grow
or produce interest, or become use-
tul at all, except for spendin.r
I reflected for a moment.
"Now,my dear young lady," said
Mr. Huntspill, his eyes had been
upon me ever since I came down in
my new dress, and I could see that
he looked at me with admiration,
ihat to my mind meant that Will
would have been satisfied, and I
was glad.
" It is the hearthstone," I said.
He stared for a moment. Then
he remembere<l that the general
use of the lower sort of people was
to hide away their money, and that
the hearthstone was the general
hiding-place, so that if a cottage
was robbed, the first thing the
burglars did was to prise up the
hearthstone.
We raised the stone, Mr. Hunt-
sjMlI and I, between us. Beneath
was a perfect mine, an Eldorado of
gold and precious things.
Remember that Da^i Gulliver
was turned sixty years of age, that
he had been smuggling ever since
he was ten, that he had never had
an unsuccessful run, and that ever
since his father's death, the farm
had supplied most of our frugal
wants, always excepting the
brandy, which never, &c.
I am afraid to say how much
70
was, f know.more thnn a thousand
pounds, all in goMon guineas, tied
"P m bags containing a hundred
each.
Mr. HuntspiJI poured the con-
tents of each bag upon the table
and counted the coin carefully.
For each he made a separate mem-
orandum. Mr. Hur,tsr,ill tied up
the bags again, callc] one of his
elr"'^;""^^ "'''«''-• t''^''" to his
caie. Then we started on our
journey.
I said farewell to the two old
people who were to be loft in sole
charge of Rousdon Farm. Mi-
Huntspill wrote his London ad-
dress, m case anything should be
wanted. And then he lifted me into
;:"' «^'^'"^^ ^nd we turne,! our
horses' heads LondonvN'ards
We rode through Lyme, along
the rough way over the cliffs to
tharmonth, and then past the yel-
IowpeakofGoldenCap,oversome
hills to Bndport, where we spent
the first naght of the journey, and
where Mr. Huntspill bought me
some things u.seful and pretty, and
had my hair dressed for me by a
gossiping old barber, who told me
It was the most beautiful hair he
ever had the honour of dress-
ing.
I do not know how long we took
to finish our journey to London.
We did nof^to begin with-pro-
ceed by the mo.st direct road be
cause Mr^ Huntspill, , ho was tra-
^el ling for the firm and never
neglected business, stayed in one
'TWAS IN TRAFALGAR'S BAY.
place and went to another without
considering short ways.
I should have been perfectly
happy but for two thir.gs-the
ncver-cea.sing anxiety about Will
and an always-increasing fear of
the terrible Lady ('ampion.
ihe road, as we drew near Lon-
don-say from Salisbury to Read-
^ng, which was the way we took
and from Reading through VVindsoi-
and H,.unslow-became more and
more crowded with carts, stage-
coaches, post-carriages, fkmily-
coaches, and foot-travellers. They
all seemed bound to Lond.m. What
was this mighty London, which
swallowed everything ? Cattle in
innnease numbers- for London •
herds of oxen, flocks of sheep,'
dioves of turkeys and geese. wJ:
gom piled with every conceivabi;
t^^in^-all for London. At regular
nervals were the great inns, out-
«ide of which there lounged an
i^rmy of grooias, butlers, help,s, and
postboys ; in the yard was stablin..-
forcountlcss horses; post-carriages
carts, and gigs stood about under'
the penthou.ses; within were ram-
bling passages and ! .ng dark gal-
lenes; the bedrooms were himc
with heavy curtains, gloomy and
ghostly. Mr. Huntspill was well-
known everywhere. I noticed that
everybody asked with particular
respect after the health of Lady
Andthen the motley crowd along
the road. The slouching laboured
io another without
t ways.
e been perfectly
two tliiri^r.s— the
xiety about Will,
ncreasin^r feHi- of
' C'auipioii.
? drew near Lon-
ilisbury to Read-
tie way we took,
through Windsor
oeanie more and
th carts, stage-
"ag(..s, fiiiinjy.
ravellers. They
'London. What
London, which
ing? Cattle in
- for London ;
<^'ks of sheep,
nd geese, wag-
ry conceivable
»n. At regular
I'eat inns, out-
3 lounged an
ers, helps, and
I was stabling"
•ost-carriages,
about under
li'i were ram-
iig dark gal-
' were hung
gloomy and
ill was well-
noticed that
1 particular
th of Lady
nquired for
srowdalono-
ig labourer
in his smockfrock, hedging and
ditclnng, who never moved from
h«H village, saw many a curious
group which might tell him of
the outer world. A recruitin-r.
«eijeant,with twenty or thirty lads
ull of beer an.l martial ardour
longing to fight the French • a
wounded and maimed sailor' or
soldier.hobblingalong.begginghis
^vay from village to village jal.ro-
cess.on of gipsies setting up their
arrow.,na,k, ,,,,., ,,,,^^^.^^^^_^.^^^j
to show then- friends where to look
for them, stealing, singing, .l.-ink-
ing, laughing, and fortune-tellin.. • i
menwholedaboutadancing-berr'l
Withapoleandaviolin;menwhol
took from place to place the bull I
who spent most of his pugnacious I
l^te in bemg baited; men who car.
ned with them cocks for %htin<r
badgers for baiting, fen^ts C
ratting; the eheap-jack in his cart,
the travelling theatre, the travel-
ing circus, the travelling showman
the open-air gymnast, the vendoi-
of cheap books, the singer of bal-
lads, and sometimes -^..Hoping
along the road, blowing a trumpet^
shouting: "Luhe king's namL
way . -the bearer of State de-
spatches hastening to London.
Now and then we would pass a sus-
picious pair of horsemen, at sight
of whom Mr. Huntspill would look
to the pistols in the saddle, and
beckon his servants to close up
I learned a good deal in those
days of other things besides curi-
and interesting sights. Mr.
LADY CAMPION.
71
••-13
Huntspill, who was always talkincr
to me, taught them. For instance
in the gentlest and kindest manner
po.ssible,he instructed me insun<lry
points of minor morals— I mean
carriage and conduct of mys.^lf
This, I knew, was done in or.ler
tliat r might not prejudice La.ly
tampi.m against me at the outset
by .some act of awk vvardness or bad
breed inir.
"A lady," said Mr. iruntspiH
who always spoke with authority'
I "i« 'cno wn by her acts and words
first; Imt there is a connection be-
tween nobility of thought and
I dignity of carriage."
I He had learned by this time all
I my deficiencies, and I know that he
was going to report upon them to
U<ly Campion. I was not afraid
of the report which he would make
of me, but I was horribly afraid of
Madam, as he called her.
The day before we rode irfo
London he talked about her.
"Lady Campion," he .said, "is
Wind, as you doubtless know. But
ma short time you will forget her
bhndness. .She writes her own
etters, and her letters are read to
her by means of a confi.lential
c^rk. She hears reports about the
affairs of the house, and .>-,vc. ^er
counsels-which are, in reality
her instructions. And all as well
an If she had the use of her eyes
Madam," Mr. Huntspill went on
was left sole guardian to Mr'
William at the. death of Sir God-
frey, her son being then fourteen
I-: >
L
'M^
^!
72
yearsofage; with a cJauHo appoint-
ing' Mr. WiJlian. as chief partner
'"th.hou«eattheageoffive-aml-
-eny. He is now three-and-
twenty. He denmnd.s Jiherty of
action until the time con.eHibr him
'twas in TRAFALGAR'S BAY.
thence, by a network „f streets and
ianes, in which it seemed impos-
sible to find our way into the
v^ity of London.
I was silent with amazement at
«o much noi.se, such crowds, and
to rule over u.s. Moantin,,.' M "" """"'' ""'"^' '"<='' "owdn, and
— '"- — « I ^''''^^'^"'Pi^'n.everything.inwon.
prudence. What she will We for
'"you IS the power .
«ontohisdomest:.auuu.....uti)r
and make the r.>ver a worthy .suc-
cessor to the ..eat Sir Godfrey
Wd Mayor of London." '
This was disquieting. How
could I? ^ "°^^
He answered my look, being at
all times a sympathetic man
"Madp,. will tell you how.
deranddel.ght I rode bWde Mr
Hunt.sj>ill in a dream.
He watched mo, riding close af
my side and guiding my horse.
Iresentlywe turned into a lonsr
v^inding lane with no carts or
■ oo^-S hut a continuous stream
of people. Many of them knew
Mr. Huntspill, and took off their
hats to him. He gravely returned
the salute. The lane led to a
You will modify the str^^r:; ' Zj^lli "'^ ^^" ''' ^^ ^
her i).j:;nctions by the -entleno.^ ' . ^ '''"''''^' '"^ '^^^'^^ ^e^c
nfv .-^^ ,^e gentleness only pnvate hou.ses. Oneofthe.se
of your own heart. Your affection
f- Mr. William will supply the
Next day we rode over Houns-
low Heath-where so many mis-
guided men had committed the acts
the largest, o-cupied the whole side
or the square.
" This," said Mr. Huntspill - is
.<-reat St. Simon Aposh. and'this
IS Lady Campion's town house."
I dismounted in considerable
^^hicii led to a violent death I f V n!^^'^^^^^ "^ considerable
through Uxbridge.pastl^^eph:!' ^"ff f^", . ^^- Huntspill led me
Bush--a coppice in\ Hose elsst 'f .^ 'i"'" *'^'°"'^^ ^^ "P
there lingered at evening many" on th T f' ^'^^^^^ ^* ^ ^«-
cowardly footpad, on the waL t t ^^^^^ng and knocked.
fnr ..^. ,,../ , ^^ ^^a*ch I Tuenhe opened the door gently
for some defenceless - ^au or
^oman; by the stately Holland
l-ark, standing an, id a lov-1 v oun-
tryset sv'ith trees, along the gar-
dens of Kensington, on the north
of which extended mile after mile
of nursery and vegetable gardens;
past the dreadful tree of Tyburn
at the corner of Hyde Park ; and
and led me into the presence of
Lady Campion.
" Those," sa; ( a firm clear voice
"are the footsteps o^ John Hiint-
spill . : welcome you, my friend.
Is ah well ? "
f is well, man im," said John
'^ "ill. "Thek^nrestsof the
nouse are prospering. I present to
h
LADY CAMPION.
'ork of streets and
t soerned impos-
^ wa>- into the
th amazement at
ich crowda, and
Idin^rs. I forgot
irything.in won-
f rode beside Mr.
im.
riding close at
I'mg my liorse.
ed into a long
h no carts or
tinuous stream
of them knew
took off their
avely returned
ane led to a
in which were
Oneofthe.se,
ihe whole side
funtspil], " is
^-^i; and this
wn house."
consider J. 'e
itspill led me
lou.sc and up
id at a door
nd knocked,
loor gently,
pre«ence of
clear voice,
^ohn Hunt-
i^jy friend.
' said John
58ts of the
present to
you, madam, the young lady of
whom you wrote to mo, Pleasance
Nnel, and commend her to y r
ladyship's prot«!ction."
" Couje here, my dear. Clo.s. r
— closer yet."
I had not dared to raise my
eyes. Now I ,lid so. I saw a
splendid lady, aj)parently about
Hfty years of age, magnificently
dressed in black velvet. Round
her neck was hung a heavy gold
chain. Her collar and wristbands
were of costly lace. She was sit-
ting when we came in, and .she
turned her head in the slow cau- I
tious way peculiar to blind people.
Yet there was little lo, k of blind-
ne.ss in her eyes, and she ^ med
to .see me as my eyes met those
large j)roud orbs of hers. She rose,
iiowever, to give me greeting, and
continued gazing at me, as it
seemed, reading my features in
imagination. Then .she placed her
^and.s on my shouMers and began,
a. a way which made me tremble,
gf^Mjy to pass hei fingers over my
*<ice and ^ead.
" Y(» pretty, child, and you
are tfill. vVha* is your age ?"
" I am past si.Kteen."
" What colour is your hair ?"
"It is light brown. AFv eyes
are blue."
^ All this time her busy sensitive
finger; were passing lightly over
my face.
" Your name is Pleasance. Your
father, John Huntspill tells me,
\^as a ship's carnenter. Yonr
73
guardian, one Daniel Gulliver, has
gone to sea, and you were left
alone. My son Wiiliam has fallen
in love with you. You are be-
trothed to each other without the
formality of asking my consent.
It was wrong in my .sun. I trust
my dear, that what I .see of yoi,
will induce mo to grant that con-
sent. We have time before us
during which we may do the b-st
to learn each other's ways and char-
acter. Be sui-e that in all you do,
I shall be always watching you,
blind as I am. You may kiss me,
Pleasance."
I ki.ssed her fingers, but she
drew me to herself and ki.ssed my
forehead. Presently, to my dis-
tres.s, John Huntspill went away,
an<l r was left alone with madafti.'
She began by askiug me how 1 u.sed
to spend my days, what J u.sed to
read, of what character weie my
religious opportunities, and other
questions designed to bring out
exactly what I knew and how I
thought. Then she told me that
John Huntspill had pre[)aied a re-
port of my general ignorance, for
Avhich care would ;.,' immediately
taken. She informed me further,
that a skilful governess, aided by
all kinds of i; ters .rould begin
theii- labours with -i^ the very
next morning.
She ended in her stately way :
" ^Villi un did not wait for my
consent, nor did you kno\- per-
haps that it is unl coming of a
maiucn to engage iierself without
/
74
I
*«
1^1
thntoonsent. Nevortheloas, should
.V<">J.orhIi.,nfc ami prove yourself
Possosseci of ti.e aptitude and tho
q'>»l.t.os which ho l«.lieves to bo
J» yon that consent will not he
^vthhoh Understand u.o, Plea-
anc., WWliao. is of a^o, and in
two years t.n.e or so will be called
upon to assun,e the chief eouimand
of Ins .reat firn,. H. cu. n.arry
^'tl.o.it n.y consent, if he wishes.
For your own happi„.vsH. and in
obedu.nce to the Fifth t.'onnnand-
"i^'nt. you will study to oUauMuy
"I'P^val. I do not ,leny that I
;'-M l.ave wished-yes, that I
jnoststron^vwished-mysonto
f nanaIl,aneewithoneof,.entle
^"/l.. ^ou must try to remove
this di.snppoi.tuient."
'Then my new manner of life be
^an It was, indeed, differei.tfron.
tlic old.
For the free wiM country-the
oonhnement of a city mansion; for
^aniens, fields, and sea-beach-the
flags of a city square; for fresh air
-smoke; for entire idleness-hard
and unremitting toil; for freedon.
-7 he strict and stately manners
of the tmie; for running and clin.b-
;ng about the cliffs-a daily drive
in a stately coach, with a fat coach-
n.an on the hannne,--cloth and two
t^n footn.en behind; for doino-
everything myself-having a la!
dy™dofmyown;forthecom-
rnnionslnp of Dan, with his pipe
andgla,ssofbrandy-grog-statefy
^ame who sat watching me with
Wind eyes, and the patient middle-
'''■^VAs IS thavaloaiCh bav.
aged lady, my governess, who lis-
tenedk.ndly to my troubles and
What t ungs I learned, of which
If fore I had never even guessed '
Wy morning I practise,! for two
'P'^ on the pianoforte, or harpsi-
cl«ord, as madam called it. After
^™kfast came the masters. There
was M.KIie Lemoine, master of
cJancmg and <Ieportment-he was
nO' favourite, because J took to
<'arH-ing with great readiness • a
-"^nng master; a refugee French
i'l'b , of courtly manners, to teach
H'c French ; one of the clerks, an
^'I'lerly man with a wife and larc^e
fanuly. pern.itted to increase Ids
income by giving me lessons in
wntmg; and a professor of elocu-
tion, who taught me to rea.l with
propriety.
With a,j this work before me. I
-httletin.e to think about poor
V ilK One day. however, John
"untspillcametoseeme.and re-
quested that I would favour him
|>y walking in the square with him
ror a few minutes.
He told me that Madam was
g;owing anxious about her son
H^s story, to put her oli- the scent'
was that he was going to the West
Ind.cs. And the WcsMndian mails
had come in, but no letter, natu-
rally enough, had arrived from Will
Campion.
„ "Everything (h.pends." he said,
on there being no inquiry. I
have, for my own part, ascertained
by a Portsmouth correspondent in
veinnss, wlio Jis-
"v troubles and
J to knovvled^re,
inied, of which
f even ffiiessod :
mctistM) for two
'o'to, or hjirpjsi-
nlk'il it. After
JuHNtors. There
ine, innster of
iniont— he was
'U«<> I took to
fc readiness ; a
■efiiifoo French
mors, to teach
the elerks, an
^vife and lar^e
increase hi.s
ne lessons in
issorofelocu-
1 to read with
before me, I
»k about poor
wever, John
nie, and re-
favour him
tre with him
!Vfadain was
ut her son.
tf the scent,
to the West
tidian mails
etter, natu-
d from Win
s," he said,
iquiry. T
scertained
Jondentin
LADY CAMPION.
75
whom T can trust, that Mr. Vv^illJam
is now at sea. Madam woidd die of
shame were she to h-arn the truth.
I nee notliin^r for it l)nt to fei<,m a
letter from him. I have written it,
and propose to brin<,' itto-niorrow
as coming from the oflicc. Jt will
<loubtless bo for you to rea<l it
aloud. We lire embark.-d in a
course of falsehoods. From one de-
ceit springs many. Far, far bet-
ter had Mr. William at once con-
fessed his name and position, and
obtaine.l, as he certainly would
have done, His Majesty '.s pardon
for a boyish ( scapade."
Yes, we were indee<l embarked
in a couise of falsehood. Not one
letter di<l we write, l)ut many-
four every year. John Huntspill
wrote them, getting his descrip-
tions of West India scen.ny from
all sorts of sources, avoiding the
islands of Jamaica, Barbadoe.s, and
St. Kitt's, in which the house had
correspondents. Then he would
bring in his precious missive, an-
nouncing calmly that a mail was
in from the West Indies bringing
a letter for Madam. Lady Campion
always took it, felt it, remarked
bow the smell of the ves.sel clung
to the paper, and then putting it
into my hands, commanded me to
read it. In this way we carried on
ii regular correspondence, and
though from time to time Madam
complained that her son did not
send direct answers to her ques-
tions (which we could not be ex-
pected f- know), we managed to
make things hang together, and
the poor lady never suspected.
Neverthele.ss it went to my heart,
and John Huntspill used to throw
a guilty glance at me when she
folded up the letter carefully, and
placed it in hei- bo.som, as if she
was pressing her son to her heart.
Also, on the days when a letter
arrived ,she was silent, and would
request to be left alone in lier
room.
No letter really came from Will
at all. He was fighting the French
somewheie. That made me tremble
at night, thinking of the almo.st
<laily news, .shoute.l about the
streets, of another engagement and
another victory, with the dreadful
list of kille<l which followed after.
I Yet John Huntspill bade me hope.
I Among the lists, so far, he had not
I seen the name of Williaii» Campion,
I or tho.se of Dan and his boys.
So the days passed on. Lady
Campion did not mi.\ in general
society, but .she received at dinner,
on certain days, a few old friends'
of her husband. These dinners,
indeed, were magriificent, but one
always wished to be a .spectator
instead of an actor in an entertain-
ment which began al six, and from
which even the ladies could not
escape before nine. As for the gen-
tlemen, they remained over their
port, and I think many of them
remained too lonir.
On Sunday we went to a city
church where the clergyman wore
an immense wig, and used to have
76
» ^
a inck of smackinr. his ]{,,« be-
*"''^'^" Ins word.s. which alway.s
amuse. Izne. Thus he would say:
/owthesonsofEIi-'^snmck--
wero sons of Belial "- «„.ack.
«maok--"they knew not the Lord"
-«u,ack^ He always preached a
-mono the s..une length, exactly
neasured-countin..theintro,luc-
tory prayer an<l the eoneludir...
bonod,et,on to the space of half-
an hour. He was a good old n.an
metnnes like n.y poor old friend
th RevBen.,an.inl^urden.fondof
r ' "r' ^""'^ "^''%'. Wvolent
|«-ned.andholdin.,stron.opin-'
^ons on the authority ,.f the cler..y
'twas in TRAFALGAR'S JJAY.
OHAPTER vn.
THEVICTOUYOFTRAFALOAR.
I AY followed day, and
season followed season.
^k I I'ad been with Lady
Oanip.on nearly two years. I had
;'«en so long in the great quiet
"»'.se, whe.e no footfall was ever
b^'anl on the thick carpets, so lon.r
with the stately lady who saw
everything with blind eyes that
the oKHife .seemed quite gone and
bour, what weariness, could not be
borne ?
VVe di,l not stay all the time in
tl>e city. Lady Can.pion had a
house at Chertsey, whither for
three months in the year we re-
pa.re,l. governess, lessons, and all
1 here a horso was kept for my own
nding and agroom to protect me
i here I could ramble about a park
where there were deer, who.n T
taught to come at my call, and eat
"t of my hand. An.l there wa.«
the river. I do not know whether
It was more d.-lightfid for me to
^vatch the current of the Thames
^hpi'M.^^silentlyaway, or the waves
of Kousdon con.e tun^bling along
the shore, rolling over each other
m ceaseless sport. When Septem-
ber vanished, and the leaves were
yelow, we left Chertsey and drove
back to our city house, in a car-
nage almost as grand as that of
tlie iord mayor.
NoletterfromWillall this time-
not one line. '
We kept u|> the deceitful corres-
pondence between Will and his
luother. What travels we contrived
[•"• Imn ! What adventures John
Huntspill aTul J in.itated from
hook.s, or invented out of our own
H>ad! What ha.rbreadth escapes r
T \\t\ t-i «>k.^ . 1 I* , \
hrst, a sense of weariness wo61d
rail upon n.,., Madam, who divined
everything, w.ndd admonish me •
"It IS for Wills sake. Ph-asance:-
And for his dear sake, what la-
the arrival of the letters; she had
thorn read and ro-road to her • she
-arnecl them all by heart; she
quoted them as admirable speci-
n»ens of the best modem style -shP
THE VICTORY OF TRAFALGAR.
S8, Could not be
all tlio tiinq in
•"ip'on Iiad a
. whither for
« year we re-
'ssons, and ail.
•ptformyown
to protect me.
J ftbout a parlc
tJt'cr, wiiom T
y call, and eat
nd there was
now whetlier
Pul for lilt) to
tile Thajiies,
, or (lie waves
libliiig along-
»■ each otiier
lien Septem-
Jeaves were
'J find drove
e, in a car-
I fw that of
'1 this time;
tfnl corres-
'1 and JuH
^' contrived
■I'l'cs John
ifced from
f our own
li escapes !
^•' Alttdam
Htched for
; slio had
> Jier ; s}\e
•ni't; sJio
>le speci-
ityle ; she
77
dated events from incidents in the
letters. Such a thing happened
when she heard how her son had
captured an alligator— been wreck-
ed on the coast of Cuba—marched
ir:' .1(1 with the Honduras Indians
—or rescued tlie starving slaves
abandoned on a West Indian key.
We might have laughed but for
the dreadful fear that possessed
our souls, of which we never dared
to Sj)eak, that fear which made
JohnHuntspill look through every
list of killed and wounded, which
blanched my cheek at every an-
nouncement of another naval ac-
tion. For Will, we know, was
before the mast, and gone afloat to
fight the French.
They were all victories in those
days. Surely there was never a
time when a nation was so brave
as in the time of that long war.
There was no note of hesitation
then— no timid counsels. Girl as J
was, I gloried in the spirit of the
country when, with one consent,
the nati(m flew to arms to resist
the threatened invasion. And one
could not choose but exult when
th(! brave sailors went out to fight
and conquer, with never a thought
of striking the good old thig. I
seem to see again the newsboys
flying through the streets shout-
ing the news of another glorious
victoiy— the people in the streets
buy the handbills and shake hands
with each other, strangers fhough
they nmy be. I forget the other
side of the picture— the tremblin^r
women, the orphaned children,
myself beating down the terror of
my heart. I remember only the
glory of it. Poor Madam, who knew
nothing of this fear, took, of course,
the greatest interest in the doings
of the English fleets. There could
not be too many actions to please
her ; every action was a victory ;
every victory reduced the enemy's
resources, and enabled her own
great ships to perform their voy-
ages in greater safety. Every day
after breakfast, I read aloud the
Mornivij Post, especially that por-
tion of the paper which gave the
naval if'velligence.
One morning 1 read the news of
the Battle of Trafalgar.
The list of casualties would })e
pul)lished in a few days. John
Huntspill and I went about with
heavy hearts. He did not dare to
meet my eyes. For his Portsmouth
correspondent had found out that
all four v.-ere on board the Victory.
We had illuminations in the city
to celebrate the event on the Day
of Rejoieing. We drove in state; to
church to offer up our far froiu
hund)le offering; we invited guests
for a feast of thanksirivint' : wii
sent iioney for the poor in token
of gratitude ; and we gave orders
that the rejoicings of the house of
Campion and (.V, should excel in
splendour those of every other pri-
vate house. The front of the house
was covered over with a trellis-
work, on which were fixed thou-
sands of ojl-lnuinK of ,lirt'..i..>nf
A
J
78
colours, arranged in patriotic de-
igns. In the centre was the lion
and unicorn, with the words "God
•"aveKingGeorge!" Above was the
"nionjack with the legend. "Hon-
our to the glorious dead!" I drew
out the plan by Madani's instruc
tions. She thought me wanting in
enthusiasm, and delivered a little
speech on the part which should
be borne by women in the glory of
their country. Above all, she said
-her words fell upon me as a bad
omen-above all, women must be
readyfor the sake of their country
• *« ^niperil, without a murmur, the
lives of husbands, lovers, or sons
iiesides the oil-lamps for the
house illun.ination. Lady Cam-
pion devised another and a more
original manifestation of joy She
procured a ship's boat, which she
caused to be mounted upon wheels
decorated with masts and iiaos'
«nd n.anned by a do.en jolly tars,'
and a band of n.usic. The band
™ to play patrioticairs, the boat
^as to be dragged through the
streets, the sailors were to sin.-
the masts being adorned with fet'
toons of oil-kmps. The chief duty
^mpressed upon the men was that
they were to keep sober, if they
could, until midnight, when a pun-
cheon of rum would bo broaihed
for them in the square of Great St
:^;^":" >f tJ«- In the morning
of this joyful day, John HuntspiU
J^.1 paying his daily visit to Madam'
handed me quietly a letter. It was'
addressed to me-I had seen th-^
'TWAS IN TRAFALGAR'S BAY.
writmg once before, in the parish
register-bytherectorofRousdon.
Could It be from Will? I hastened
away, and tore it open with trem-
bimg fingers. It was not from Will
It was from Dan Gulliver, and it
was the saddest letter that ever a
girl received:
"My dear Pretty," said poor oM
L»an,-" We have made the port of
Portsmouth, with the admiral
aboard m his coffin. Jephthah was
killed m the action with a round
shot, which cut him in two pieces.
M-y poor, pretty Pleasance ! don't
cry too much, but Mr. Campion fell
overboard on the way home, and is
consequently drowned. This is bad
news foryou, lam afraid; and for
me too. Job sends his love, and he
says he is alive, and he wishes it
had been him.-Your affectionate,
" Dan Gulliver."
That is the news which greeted
me on the day of illumination for
the victory of Trafalgar.
My governess came to me I
sent her away with some excuse
and sat down by myself, saying
over and over again, so that I
should be able to feel the whole
bitterness of despair: "Will is
drowned ! Will is drowned ! We
shall never see him again!"
John HuntspiU came in search
of me. He saw by my face what
had happened. He took the letter
from my fingers, and read it —
" Poor Pleasance !" be said, "Poor
poor child!"
I think he must have sat with
I in the parish
arofRousdon.
J ? I hastened
3n with trem-
^ot from Will.
Jliver, and it
if that ever a
said poor cM
e the port of
'le admiral
-T^^thah was
ith a round
^ two pieces,
iance! don't
/ampion fell
lome, and is
This is bad
tid ; and for
ove.and he
e wishes it
ffectionate,
LLIVER."
ch greeted
i nation for
to me. I
le excuse,
If, saying
io that I
;he whole
"Will is
ted! We
I"
n search
ice what
he letter
!ad it. —
I, "Poor,
iat with
THE VICTOICY OF TRAFALGAR.
79
me all tliat morning. I know he
talked from time to time, but I
forget what he said. Presently I
began to understand something.
"We must not letMadam know," he
repeated. "She must never know.
We will prepare a letter from —
from her son "—he paused, and for
a moment his voice broke—" stat-
ing that he is going on some expe-
dition up the country; and then
no more letters at all will come
afterwards, and you will mourn
together — you and his mother.
But she must never know her son's
real end."
Had I had my will I would have
gone straight to Madam, and told
her all. But it seemed more merci-
ful that she should be spared the
details which he wished his mother
never to know.
"For his sake, Pleasance," urged
John Huntspill, " for his sake be
brave, keep up your heart before
her. Let not my lady's pride, as
well as her heart, be broken. She
must never know. For his sake
she must never know."
He would not leave me till I pro-
mised that I would do my best.
Durinr the rejoicings I too would
seem to rejoice.
Oh heavy day ! Oh day which
seemed as if it would never pass !
At one I was called to luncheon
with Madam. She was in excellent
spirits— hapi.ier than 1 had ever
known her.
Presently she asked sharply .
"What is the matter, Pleasance?
You are crying."
•' I was thinking, Madam," I sob-
bed, " of the brave fellows who are
killed."
"Yes, but there is a time to
mourn and a time to rejoice. You
were thinking, my child, of my
son?" I did not answer. "Come to
me, Pleasance." She was sitting
after luncheon in her armchair be-
side the window. " Come to me."
I knelt at her feet, and buried
my head in her lap.
" He is a long time away, is he
not ? But I write to my son, and
tell him about you, child. When I
wrote last I sent him word that I
would not oppose his desire. Yes,
Pleasance, I have watched you
more narrowly thiin you know.
You will make my son happy.
Take my blessing, my dear."
She laid her hand upon my head
solemnly. Ah! if she knew— if she
only knew!
In the evening, at half-past five,
we had a gi-eat dinner, which
lasted until half-past nine, and
then we all sallied forth, including
Madam, into the street, protected
by a bodyguard of the House's
pf>rters armed with stout cudgels.
The streets wei-e full of people,
shouting, fighting, and drinking. If
they j)assed a house without illu-
mination, they broke- the windows.
Should we never finish ? I thought.
Midnight came at length, and
the boat with the sailors came
^"ili to the square. The puncheon
80
of rum was rolled into the square-
there w«s „,ore shouting, more
%hting:, until the contents were
all gone We were at the open
wmdow, looking on. At last the
^•um was all drunk up, the mob dis-
persed, the oil-lau)ps went out one
by one, and we were able to go to
bed. '^
J'^u'l'""'^^'^' '""y ^I'^ughter,"
said Madam, as she retired, exuU
">g and happy, to her room. It
^as the fi,st time she had called
n^e her daughter. Oh, the bitter-
ness : that such a day of death and
bereavement .should be chosen for
this act ofgrace and kindness
I^fit me not speak more than I
can help-the pain, even now, is
too great-of my own sufferings
at th,s time. Remember that I
had to wear all day long a mask
ofcheezfulness. If I failed for a
moment there was something in
the quick symr)athies of the blind
lady which enabled her to perceive
It at once.
This torture endured for a fort-
mght. Then the end came, in a
way which we little expected and
iiad not guarded against.
hall-past eleven, before John
Huntspill had left Madam, and be-
ore the arrival of my singing-
master, who was due at twelve I
was alone in .ny o^vn room, free
tor a moment f,-om tutors, gover-
nesses. and my lady-free to think
«* the pa,st, my only solace, My
own maid-she wa.s the only one
'twas in TIUFAr.GAU's BAY.
m the house who knew that I had
some secret sorrow— came to tell
me that there was a sailor, an old
sailor, in the hall, who wished to
see me. Who could it be but Dan
Crulhver ?
It was indeed old Dan himself
He came upstairs in his slow and
quiet way. J saw him before he
saw me. He was dressed like a
com mon sailor ; his hair was greyer
and his dear old face graver; there
was no other chano-e.
He stood in the doorway. He
actually did not recognise me.
"Dan!" I cried, springing into
his arms, "Dan! Don't you
know me ? "
Then he did, and laid his hands
upon my shoulders, holding me
back and looking at me. before he
kissed my cheek.
"% pretty!" he said, "and
growed so tail. And such a lady
^o be sure she always waa as
sweet-mannered as any lady in the
Jand, And oh, my pretty ! he's
gone! he's gone! Don't take on
"on t take on."
"Tell me all about it. Dan Tell
me. _ And poor Jephthah gone
"Cut in two halves, he was,
with a Cham-shot. Died in action
my boy Jephthah. But Mr. Cam-
Pion, poor young gentleman, he
filed by drownding. Fell off the
yard m the night, and never was
seen-how could he be seen ?-
-Herwards, Poor young gentle-
man ! ®
lew that I had
-came to tell
sailor, an old
■^ho wished to
it be but Dan
Dhu himself.
his slow and
im before he
I'essed like a
ir wa.s greyer
[•raver ; there
orwaj. He
lise me.
''"nging into
Don't jou
i his hands
lolding me
■, before he
aid, "and
iph a lady.
'« wiia as
ady in the
9tty.' he's
take on .
Dan. Tell
THE VICTORY OF TRAFALGAR.
81
-Dan -my heart will
lah
gone
be was,
n action,
Hr. 0am-
^man, he
off the
iver was
seen ? —
gentle-
" Oh, Dan!
break ! "
" Cry, pretty, cry as much as
ever you can. But cryin' won't
bring him back. Cry now, while
I tell you all about him.
" They knowed our story aboard
the ' Victory.' I was smuggler
Dan. The boys were smuo-o-ler
Job and T'other Job — because, I'm
sorry to say, they mariners aboard
his majesty's ships never knew
which was which. And so Jeph-
thah, who is now cut in two pieces
was never knowed as such. And
Mr. Campion tiiey called Gentle-
man Jack. Now remember — some
young gentlemen, after getting a
three years' billet in the fo'ksle for
smuggling, would ha' sat down
and grizzled. Mr. Campion wasn't
one o' that sort. ' Providin' al-
ways,' he says to me — 'providin'
always, Dan, as my mother never
finds out, why, what odds is a three
years' cruise ? ' And merry with
it. Once he ketches hold of a
fiddle, the fo'ksle's alive ; when he
began to play you'd ha' thought
the fiddle was talkin', not him a
playing. All round him the men
would be sittin* an' singin , till the
whole ship was as good-tempered
as if there wasn't nary a l)os'n nor
petty officer a'ooard.
" Well you may depend on it,
pretty, that it wasn't long before
the officers got to kj.'^v v; hat an
uncommonsailorthc y'd got. shipped
aboard the Victory 'V;- ^ little run
a^ he had made across the Chan-
nel one fine night, and it wasn't
long before Captain Hardy hisself,
finding Mr. Campion on the quar-
terdeck, axed him — ay! before the
admiral — who he was and how he
came aboard. Mr. Campion, no
more afraid of speakirg to the
captain than o the carpenter, he
told him, touching his hat, that he
had been caught smuggling, that
thi-y'd all got off with three years,
f(jr the information they gave to
the Adiniralty, and that he hoped
to give satisfaction to hu honour
so long as he was aboard, after
which time, be said, he should give
up sailing before the mast. Cap-
tain Hardy he laughed, and the
Admiral laughed ; and then his
loidship, who ought to know, said,
in his quiet, easy way. that a man
was no worse a sailor for beino- a
gentleman born, but that gentle-
men ought not to run cargoes
across the Channel. After that I
think the word was passed down
to make some sort of difference
with us. Anyway, the worst of
the bos'ns never laid rope's end on
none of us four.
" Come the action off Trafalgar. .
My pretty, we done our duty —
Job and Jephthah and Mr. Cam-
pion and me—till that chain- shot
came, and all I saw o' my boy
Jephthah was two halves and a
pool of blood.
"When the Admiral fell they
told me off to help carry him down.
That took best part of a quarter of
an hour. The action ln=fo.i h^\f
82
an hour longer. Whon the firing
ceased an,l one could look around
Job ahve and hearty. As for
;^-'Phthal, that poor boy was
t'-wed overboard in tvvo halves!
wav . """'^^ ^'"^^^^^ «" the
way home. One of the prizes
foiinderer a,w1 ._ . . ^ ^^
'TWAS IN TRAFALGAR'S RAY.
wJlt1'"""'^«"-^-«-'-too,
"No,Madan,nota,s,nug,.I,,.
only once, for a boyish freak I
must needs m,. « ' "^
^'^^^ ^"n across vvth me for
^ single venture. And Jh
were aJJ trie.I ,„, , , "^^"^ ^^«
chestf.,- '<^ "^ ^^'^•^' at Dor-
years «!...,.... '.^""^^^^or three
^•-iered. And one dark ^ ;^ ^^ ?' " '^' ^'" ''" ^^
"^ t^^at nasty weather, all in ^thj Te It T ' ^'''''' ''^ '^^ news
^"^^- ^'-'- ^'- - • " - ' ^IP;^.'^^ , "P on our way back '
J 1 '' "^"'"'uj, an in tJi<
Jark po„, 1,, c,„„,,i„„ ,„ ;
boanl and wa, U.owndod "
. ^ ''■''■■'«J to the story, ,„y l,ea,l
'.''."'■" 7' "'to fmsl,.,„i,l,i„,, „„j
'"" ,"'"' '^"•'■.Vtl.ing. I neve..
'~ked „p. wWlo Dan tol.l |,i,,
toryIay,,idi„„,ny,Heei„tl.o
sofa and c-y.n,,, „,dle the doo.
^tood WKle open, and Jfa,Ia„, he,-
»elt ^tood tl,e,.e listening t„ ovo I
™,''' "f 7"' '-'■ Jolu. Hunt";
H'». w„I, white chocks and t,o„-
bled broiv r i..,.. , .
with -^'^^ was tried '-
with common sailors ( R«
tnedand',.otoff- ," ' "^^'^
to sea I " "~"^^" ^«»^ «ent
J<new that he was «f . "^
monsailor?' '^■"''"^«"^-
;'^^^«•'" r moaned, "I k^.w
only too well." "^^
" That ^-xDu concealed from me
S:r,!!--^^-ination
K, , , ">- '="'J«Ks and tiou- Did ,•„, i ---"•"'•i trai
W^-'J brow. I lo„k„,| i„ " ^'"^^ >™ know on Illu,,,,,
«-f. 'out ,„ran. to n,y fl, ' „ !^ ""Yj^ '»^ »™ was dead P
fled hv „,„ u, ,. . ./ . I I knew that then," I replied
:'i
I2LJ
fled by the look of Ma,h,n,. She
"'". "''"wn to her full hei„ht
l«a'""S on her stick; her face wl,
peWectly white; her lips trX:
b« .,.ghtless eyes seon.ed to po„;
?'."'"« '>» I'»°.- Ban; she w
tembe m ,,«. despai,. and wratK
Telln,e,' she said-" not you
g.l;notyon-tell,ne,mans,„u,"'
gl-.-ilor, whatever yo„ a.,:!"
was this i\ Pn.. • ,
^« ^*^ . Campion who fell
overboan and wo. i ,
., "'"' ancj was drowned ? "
«o was your ladyship's son
-nd my Pleasance's sweetheart ''
said Dan simply. '
ShewassdentforrVcr'^C
eyes were dry and her li.s parch"
«aJ she wept, one, ni^hthLeht^-
" f 1 that day," she said, •■ you
g.o,, ejoiei„,„„„,;,^™
>oui lover, rejo,ced with the rest."
' Hun5l""--.She"'^r^"' ^*-
bv M- wii- , "*"""'• It was
by Ml. W,ll,a„,'s own wish_„av
comn,and-that yon were keptTn
.gnoranee of what happened I
knewjlagreed that it would be
OUT OF THE GOLDEN MIST.
83
smuggler too,
a smuggler;
'i«^» ft-ealc, he
'« with me for
nd when Ave
*dy, at Dor-
oti' for three
"f the news
way back."
was tried !
•' He was
'le Was sent
said John
id n ess.
d his moth-
g"'!, you
•-a, a com-
"J knew
from me.
ruination
?ad ? "
1 replied,
ice. Her
^ parched,
have had
>d, "you
ther who
' had Jost
ihe rest."
Hi John
ided, to
It was
h-
nay,
kept in
ned. I
mid be
better. As no letters came from
Mr. William we wrote letters, and
pretended that they were from
him—for his sake ; we read them
to you— for his sake. When the
dreadful news came, I resolved
that we would keep up the decep-
tion—for his sake ; so that you
should never know when and how
your son had died."
" Get me my desk, John Hunt-
spill."
He went obediently,and brought
back her great mahogany desk, in
which were Will's protended let-
ters, all neatly tied up. She opened
the desk and found the [)arcel.
" Take them ! Henceforth, John
Huntspill, you are no longer my
confidential friend. I cannot trust
you ! Trust you ? Oh Heaven !
can I trust anyone ? Is there
man, woman, or child in this great
world that will not lie ? "
Poor woman ! poor mother ! She
stood where she had heard the
whole, just within the doorway,
John Huntspill beside her; before
her, Dan Gulliver, amazed, and not
knowing what to say or do ; and
myself, overwhelmed with misery.
"We must put some kind of
order into our affairs," said Madam.
" You will send my lawyer to me
at once, John Huntspill. Life is
precarious, even with the old as
well as with the young. I must
make n^w dispositions. And T
would be alone— altogether alone
—in this house. You will take
away the girl. If she wants money,
let me know. My son's betrothed
must not starve because my son is
dead— is dead ! " she repeated, with
a sad dropping of her voice.
I tlirew myself at her knees and
cauglit her by the hand.
" Oh Madam ! dear Madam, for-
give me ! Say that you foi-give
me, for Wills sweet sake ! "
" Forgive ! " she och(..jd in a hard
voice. "Forgive! what does it
mean ? I shall not seek to do you
harm. You shall have money.
What more do you want ? You
have fooled me and played with
me. Yon have tempted my .son to
destruction, you and your .smug-
gler friends. My son, who .should
have been an honour to me and to
this city, like his father before him,
has died in disgrace. Forgive you ?
Yes, I will forgive you— when the
sea gives up its dead."
CHAPTER VIII.
OUT OF THE GOLDEN MIST.
E were back again at
Rousdon— Dan Gulli-
ver and Job and I — to
begin again such por-
tion of the old life as was possible.
" We will go on," .said Dan saiUy,
"just as, we used to go on before
ever he came. We will forget that
he ever came. You will forijet
that you are a young lady."
Alas ! not only was the old time
gone, but nothing like it could
>-
e
84
;'f
ever come again. Will had torn
"P the old time and thrown it
^^ay. It was .lead. But the
memory wa.s left. One could .sit
^^^ thmk till day after day that
'TWAS W TKAFALOAR'S BAV.
pened.followed by the dreadful dis-
covery of the sea-water! So that
when we camo home again, there'
were vmtn p,,id to us not only
of congratulation on our return
summer of ms unrolled , •,'„'!, ™''S™'"lation on „„r return
again, and leonW re,::' "It ^ ":: Zlr^ "" ^"^''''^^-^^''^
-'"■" '' -■•■ " Mr M ,1""^^ and^^ton,pUt,„„.
"-••'uct every
-oni he .said, even the lightest
with every gesture and every look
i he people at Lyme welcomed
"« ••lil with a cordiality which
meant not only gratitude for the
past but hope for the future. Since
that dreadful d«y of rebuke when
Joshuas delivery of good.s was dis-
covered to be so much sea-water
and nothing else, the town had
been without brandy. Campion's
fine old Jamaica rum. well enough
initsway,wasapoorsub,stitutefor
the nght good Nantes which Dan
•ad provided. A teste had been
developedwhichwasdoomedtodis-
appovutment, for no one succeeded
Alan. A man cannot suddenly be-
cor.,e a smuggler. Relations have
to be established on the opposite
shore, a connection to be formed Ht
*iome; It ,s a business which is the
growth of years. Now Dan repre-
sented the third, and his sons the
fourth generation, of a long career
m he trade, during which the
whole business for this part of the
coast had dropped into the hands
of Gulhver and Company, .smug-
glers to the nobility, gentry, an^d
'^''^J.°^^y'«c Regis and the sur-
rounding country. Imagine, there-
fore, what a blow it was to the
district when the fatel arrest hap-
Hf^ M II ■ ^ »'^-"ipuition.
Mr. Mallock. J.P.. walked all the
way from Ly,ue on purpose to .see
his old fnend again, and to hint
timt the naked condition of his
cellar, as regarded French brandy
was deplorable. The Rev. Renja-
mm Burden, who. long before the
end of Dnns two years' captivity
had got through his fou^ kegs
came to say that he was reductc!
to cider, and that of the thinnest.
Dan received these visitors with
great politeness, but held out no
hopes that the old trade would be
revived First, he said, the Danc-
^"g Polly was gone; he should
never again find a boat he could
trust so well; then his nephew.
J-hua Meech. was gone, pressed
whde busy w.th the kegs; though
how them kegs turned out to be
sea-water, he couldn't say; and
Jephthah was gone ; and he was
getting old,and a second conviction
meant a capitel sentence. Then
his money in John HuntspiU',,
hands was bringing him a little
income by itself, andhe had given
his promise not to smuggle any
"•ore. I think the old man had
learned to look on .smuggling, com-
paied with the great game of war
as a small thing.
It was strange to come back to
m accor
OUT OF THK OOLDEN MIST.
Ireadfii] dis-
••' So that,
igain, there
3 riot only
>ur ret'irn,
'Jt'phthah,
ernptatiori.
Gd all the
pose to see
'd to hint
on of his
h brandy,
2v. Benja-
lefore the
captivity,
>ur kegs,
I reduced
tliionest.
ors with
1 out no
'V'ould be
le Dane-
should
le could
nephew,
pressed
though
t to be
y; and
fie was
viction
Then
tspill's
. little
given
e any
n had
, com-
f war,
2k to
85
this queer atmosphere, in which
crime appeared no sin, and law-
breaking was encouragetl by the
administrators of the hw. The
strangeness passed off after a while,
and then the two years of life in
the stately house of the old city-
square appeared, in its turn, -amy
and unreal.
We came back to the old place,
and began, in a broken-winged
way,to resume the old ways. Then,
naturally, I began to make the
house and the house-keeping more
in accordance with my recently ac-
(luired ideas. Dan acquiesced,
wondering; Job tried to adapt
himself to my ways with the good-
will which always distinguished
him, but with less success. He
betook himself to work on the
farm ; and, in as.sumingthe smock-
frock, immediately changed, just
as he used to do, the roll of the
sailor for the slouch of the labourer.
John Hunts pill wrote to me
from time to time. Madam made
no sign of relenting. She never
asked for news of me ; she had
withdrawn her confidence from
him ; she never spoke to anyone
about her son ; she sat silent all the
day long, pale and stem. Her
heart was full of bitterness.
When Dan began to talk about
Joshua, and to regret the misfor-
tunes which befell him, I con-
■sidered that it would be well to
conceal my share in them, and the
fact of his treachery. When he
came home a^rain — should hn AVAr
7
come home— it would be time to
consider what steps should be
taken. For the present it seemed
better to leave the old man in the
belief that Joshua's troubles were
undeserved. Indeed, it would have
been difficult to persuade him that
his own nephew could be guilty of
so foul and dastardly a crime. For
my own part, I hoped that he
would never come home again.
" A life for a life," I said, bitterly.
" As he destroyed my Will's life,
so let his be taken away."
It was in the dark days of De-
cember that we came back toRous-
don. The winter weather suited
the misery of my mind. Yet, after
a time, the old charm of the sea
fell upon me and soothed me. Dan
painted and caulked the little boat-
I put out to .sea in her again during
the soft, smooth moming.s, common
in winter on the .south coast, when
the sun floats, bathed in a soft yel-
low mist, itself a disk of molten
gold ; when, if you see a boat, her
masts and hull are wrapped round
with a yellow haze, like those of
a boat in a dream. Sometimes Dan
came with me, and we .sailed or
rowed, silent, thinking of the days
that could come no more.
" There was no one like him,"
said Dan, one day, when we had
been sitting quiet in the boat'for
an hour and more. " There never
was no one like him, and never
wiU be. Joshua had his good
points. For a rough night at sea,
"^ " '^"^j nanu, josnua never
r
sp-
ue
r'i
P»
le
d-
id
Df
9^Bc:i»flH
8«
had hi8 equal. But Joshua was
purnpy. J lo took after his father
in such re8p(,ct8. Now, Mr. Cam-
pion, he was alvvuy.s Iauf,'hing, al-
ways talking.al ways ready to du a
hand's-tum for everybody. No-
J>ody like him. And to th,' k of
•tWAH in TRA f,aAR'.S RAV.
11
"Don't, Dan, don't," I mur-
mured, with the tears cominir into
my eyes.
We had a dreary Christmas that
winter, though after service in the
poor old barn, which had gone
nearly rooHess since Dan went
away, the Rev. Mr. Burden came
to take his dinner with us A
ttirkey from the farmyard fur-
nished the meal, and afterwards
Dan, with a guilty look, produced
a bottleofnnn. Mr. Burden shook
hi8 head sadly, but spent the rest
ot the day over the drink in com-
pany with Dan, and departed in
the evening withlegsvxc^^showed
a tendency to tie ihvmsdves into
knots.
Then the days beg^m to grow
longer, and the spring flowers ap-
peared on the Undercliflf, till all
the ground was covered with the
pale primrose. It must have been
about this time that everything
began to look as if it belonged to
a dream. I am not sure when that
strange feeling began; I knew,
hoNvever, that Dan used to follow
me about, and was loth to let me
go out of his sight, for fear, I sup-
pose, that, being in this dreamy
^*y. I might fall into mischief and
I do myself some injury. Also, ho
! '"^f'^^ talk of doctors and goin..
o Lyme for a change. Poor uJd
Dan .'
The place was so (juiet, so re-
"'ote from all external influences
that one fell back easily upon one's'
own brooding thoughts, I had no
duties and no distractions. Dan
was not a great talke, , and Job
was actually dumb, ,., that T lived
m a dream, and it was a dream of
the past.
The spring in its turn passed
away, an<l was followed by the
soft, warm summer, with day.s
when I would sit a whole day
through beneath the shade of tiio
rocks watching the waves. Here
Dan used to come after me, tempt-
ing me to go out in the boat with
him, to fish with him, to walk with
bim, anytliing to rouse me from
that state of dreamy despair. I
used to sit and listen unmoved-
unmoved I saw the tears roll down
his cheeks-they only irritated
me. Sometimes I think that in
those days T must have been mad
One night I could not sleeo It
was in the middle of August, 'when
there is little darkness on the sea,
but only a luminous twilight I
rose about midnight, and dressed
myself quickly, thinking I should
escape Dan's attentions, and stole
downstairs into the open air, just
as I had done two years and a half
before, to watch for the return of
the Dancing Polly. It was not. as
then, a rough and boisterous night *
breei
This
ing
«A A
"'"^^^}
^ Also, he
'8 find ;f,'oing
f'oor old
"if^t, so re-
influenceH,
upon one's
, I had no
ons. Dan
and Joh
hat r lived
L <lrearn of
m passed
d hy the
ith days
hole day
tie of the
is. Hero
e, tempt-
oat with
alk with
ne from
■fpair. I
noved —
oil down
irritated
that in
en mad.
eep. It
it, when
the sea,
ght. I
dressed
should
i stole
ir, just
a half
urn of
lot, as
light i
OUT OF THE UOLDEN MIST.
87
there ha<l been all da a fresh
hroeze blowingfrom the south-east.
This had died away, and there was
little air left. T slowly passed
down the well-known path, to sit
by the shore and think of my poor
dead Will. [ an there while the
night slipped away. I was facing
the mouth of the little creek, look-
ing straight out to sea.
When the morning broke there
was a liofht fog upon the water,
which the sun, when it rose, col-
ourcl with a beautiful hue, chang-
ing every minute. I remombered
then — Heaven knows how —that
it was the 14th of August, and
three years since I first saw my
Will. As I gazed seawards, look-
ing througl he fog, I became
aware of a g st.
It was the ghost of a boat shin-
ing in the golden mist, all gorgeous
with colours. The hull was yellow
and blue and crimson, the colours
changing every moment ; the sail
looked like a sheet of azure silk,
and the spirit who stood behind
the m.'ist — it was the spirit of my
Will— was all glorified. I stood
quite still, fearing that the vision
would fade. T had often, before
this, seen him in dreams of the
night, but never in the broad day,
and in dreams he vanished so
swiftly that I could never find time
to speak to him. The boat seemed
at first to be floating on the water
—but she was not. In the light
air of tho morning she was slowly
makin<: for the land; andpresentlv
she pii.saed through the mist, and
lost all the gorgeous colours which
thefog had Irnt her. But the ghost
of my Will n - -ined, pale, as all
ghosts of drov , men should be.
He saw uw, « ne bow of the boat
grated on the stones — ho cried my
name — he throw up his arms — he
leaped ashore.
" Oh. Will, Will ! " r r-ried, fall-
ing upon my knees before him,
" let me speak to you. Do not go
away as you do in the dreams.
Let me '^^oak to you. I knew you
would day think of me, and
come 1, om the grave. Oh, what
am I to say, now you are here ?
What can I say, dear Will, poor
Will, my dead love, my lost dar-
ling, come from Heaven to comfort
my poor heart ! Oh, it is break-
ing ! Will, it is breaking with grief
and pain ! "
" Pleasance," he cried, lifting me
in his strong arms, and folding me
to his heart, " Plea.sance, I am not
dead — I am no ghost, my darling.
I am come back to you again, alive
— alive. Can you not understand ?
Oh, my love, my darling ! "
I could not understand at first,
nor for many days afterwards.
But joy does not kill.
Will had, it was quite true, fallen
overboard. But he was picked up
by a French chasse-mar^e, and
taken to France, where he lived
among the fishermen, no one be-
traying him, till he could persuade
one of them to trust him with a
boat. He promised a large price;
»
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^' APPLIED IIVMGE
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HH
fi
jhouJd he reach England in safety
it IS needless to say that he kept
his promise. ^
When I was able to listen to it
i^ll, when I could sit with my hand
n h:s ,n such happiness as never
'tny other girl, I believe, experi
enced, he began to talk about our
">arnage He wanted to see his
mother, but he would tell her him-
self, not write to her. And he could
not go, he said, unless I would go
'TWAS IN TRAFALGAR'S BAY.
the back of the man was familiar
to me, for the face, when we came
up ^ith its owner, was the face of
Joshua Meech.
He looked round at the sound of
the horses' feet. At first he did not
recognize us. I was dressed in a
dark-green riding-habit, and wore
a veil.
"Joshua," I said softly; do you
not remember us ?"
"Joshua Meech, n,y boy," cried
111 AJT-h/^ 1» 1 .
-ithhim. Wh;tcouidi:a;r5l Will'"l;"\''"^'' -^^^y/'eried
course we were married, just a. hp ] « ' ^'"^ "'^^^^^"-^ "^ ^^^t
wi«l,«.i u . . 'J^'^tashe I ^^dhappened,"Howgoesit,mate?
■oriel. 1 1 * ""'^''''^*' Ji^st as he
wished he and I, ;„ r„„,,,„„
el.urch,bythe Reverend Benjamin
Bu*„. Will doffed his ,ai,„,"
oothe« for the fi„t time, and :;!
reared dressed a.s a gentleman. Dan
gave me away. It was agreed that
T *°."''' "do »tr^ight from the
-.Tn \. , ' """ s"'^'-' 11^, matey
Where <bd yo„ Jose your Jcgs,
man ? °
"Where a good many lost their
heaas, Mr. Campion "- he spoke
quite cheerfully, while a horribly
guilty feeling seized me—" at Tra
falgar. Glad to.see you safe home
church into Lyme, and leLeVos • .^''^f *° ^^ y™ -fe home
direct without stoppin! ™ C '^'""■■T- 7'"= """'" -ho <lid the
don. PP"" *" ^°"- I "'"eh.ef, he's well punished, he is ;
We left Dan and Job and the
poor old rector at the door of the
ecclesiastical barn. Will lifted me
into the saddle, and we rode slowly
-ay, poor old Dan crying, and
Wi I promising soon to bring me
back. We ha<l ridden half a mile
or so on our way along the Seaton
road, when I saw before me, just
before you come to Colway Lane
a%urewhich seemed familiar to
me. It was indeed, only part of a
hgure, consisting of a man's trunk
and a couple of very short wooden
«tumps, on which the owner was
pegging his way, literally, with
uncommon vigour. I ^^s ri^ht •
and serve him right."
Now no one, except myself, ever
knew who the villain was.
Later on, when Dan came to see
us in London, he had a good deal
to tell of Jushua.
The mill was set going again,
after hefoundhismoney,by means
of a mysterious letter with a Lon-
don postmark. It had become
ruinous, but thewheels were there
and Joshua began again to prac-
tise his ancient craft. He went no
longer to chapel, but became a firm
Piliar of the established church
having been converted on board
ship.
The way of his conversion was
CUT OF THE GOLDEN MIST.
89
as familiar
n wo came
the face of
sound of
he did not
essed in a
and wore
^ ; do you
^3^" cried
■ of what
it, mate?
•ur legs,
ost their
e spoJce
horribly
'atTra-
fe home
did the
X he is ;
If
, ever
! to see
d deal
again,
means
I Lon-
ecome
there,
prac-
nt no
t firm
urch,
)oard
was
sini])le. He one in his early days
aboard, began to argue a point
v*nth the chaplain, who was so
amazed at the audacity <"f a com-
mon sailor pretending to be skilled
in theological subtleties, that he
complained to the captain. The
captain, a choleric man, ordered an
application of the only remedy
then employed for offences and
disorders at sea — three dozen.
Before the first dozen I ad been
received, Joshua felt conviction
pouring in. About midway through
the second, the force of the con-
viction was irresistible. By the
end of the third he had .steadfastly
resolved on adhering, while on
board, to the Church of England
and Ireland, as by law established.
And after coming ashore he con-
tinued this godly habit.
It is the last scene of my story.
A bright morning in autumn,
when even the City houses look
pleasant, and the trees in the City
churchyards have not lost their
leaves, and are pleasant to the eye.
We go to the house in the Square,
Will and I, followed byJolin Hunt-
spill. Madam has not gone to
Chertsey this year.
Thei'e are no servants to meet
us. John has taken care of that.
We cross the hall and mount the
stairs, covered with tneir thick
Turkey carpets, which deaden
every fuotfall. On the landing we
can look into the great room which
Madam always uses as her own.
We can see Mttdam herself sitting
8
by tiie window, pale, rigid, and
stern.
No one moves, no one whispers.
The tears come into Will's eyes as
he looks upon his mother. Pre-
sently John Huntspill takes my
hand and leads me quietly into the
room.
Madam looked up in her quick
interrogative fashion.
" It is I, Madam," said John.
"Is there anything of import-
ance, John Huntspill ? Unless you
have news to tell me, why do you
come ? And who is with you ?"
" I have to say a thing of great
inq»ortance. Madam. I bring with
me a girl who has suffered nuic]^.
I ask foi- your forgiveness for her,
and for myself, for the deceit we
practised upon you."
"Oh Madam!"— I knelt at her
feet — "we have been very un-
happy: Forgive me, and let us be
as happy together — as wo can."
" I said, Pleasance," she rei)lied,
" that I would forgive you when
the sea gave up its dead. But that
will be long, perhaps. We sl-ould
wait — till the Judgment Day. My
dear, I forgive you, for the sake o^
him whom we both loved. Pleas-
ance, child" — she held out both
her arms — " come and lot us weep
together, and go in mourning and
sorrow all our day^s."
" Not in sorrow, Madam. Oh !
not in sorrow, but in gladness. For
look, the Lord is very merciful.
The sea has given up its dead, an<l
here is vour son. hoiup .T<rn!n uid
in your arms."
r.
>ng8
oep-
jme
tra-
ng»
tic,
'er'a
t'
ed-
)ed
of
er-
tre
al
lU
ia
y^^
K
"This Able Volume //, u .,, ,
»^r NEARLY FEADY
THE SECOND EDITION OF MR. OEOROE STEWART JR.. GREAT HISTORICAL WOR
EARL 6» BUFFj^JiJ^T^
What ,s sa,d about tHe »„.t i^ponant Boo. eve ,.,.,l.„.,,, ,. o^naCa-
. , ".iiu.i^i I.I iii^ MUli sii|)pr-
Mr. St™t has .lone las work Nvitlidi.^^^^^^^^^^^
\Ve lire .'iiil to SHP Afr Kt, .,.•..,.*• , ■ ' limp. o'. ./'</,„/;„,/„ /w,;, .„,,/,
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NV.c Ciu. o.ily ...ice i.ioiv CMi.iinen.l it to ,.v..>.v < • , i- "<>'i"i.
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OK
Omaha, Neb.
SAm. BEATY^
.Goneral Agent Land Department U. P. Ry., Rossin Ho.se Block,
York Street, Toronto.