Chapter II: Part 2

"Ah, they do not greatly count, methinks; for as a sailor he might well have come by them in far-off countries. Perchance his story was half lies, half truth. But what most puzzles me, what in fact I cannot put away, is the man he told you of who died aboard that ship, and spoke of me and Lyme. If that be true, 'tis very strange."

"I scarcely think it was true, sir, but rather a piece of trickery to hold me in the lane. Having found out my name, that is, he made a tale to fit it."

"Perhaps you hit it rightly, Michael--and yet----"

"Well, sir, at any rate I fear it is impossible for us to prove it; for no doubt the rascal is far enough away by now."

Barely had I said those words when from without there came the loud snapping of a tree branch, followed by a heavy thud, and this again by the sound of swiftly-running feet.

Springing to the window, I looked out. As I have said, a lusty chestnut tree grew close above a neighbouring wall. This time its leaves were shaking violently, while a broken branch lay lodged upon the wall top; but there was no one to be seen, and so it was clear that whoever had fallen must have gone down on the far side of the wall, that is, the one on which the tree was rooted.

"What is it?" asked my father in an anxious whisper, leaning over me.

"A broken branch," I answered. "Someone was certainly in yonder tree."

The hand upon my shoulder trembled.

"Ah! say you so? Who could it have been?"

"That I will try to find out."

Climbing through the casement, which was but some ten feet above the ground, I dropped lightly to the lawn. Midway in the garden wall a little door led to a small demesne, of shrubbery and orchard. Full carefully I opened this, and, passing through, stood listening. Not a sound was to be heard, and as the grass had been mown but a day or two before, and still lay in a thick swath, there was little chance of finding tracks.

Going to the chestnut tree I examined it carefully, but found no marks upon the trunk. Beyond the broken branch (a smallish one) there was no sign of him who had disturbed us, save for a hollow in the hay beneath, where he had fallen.

Having made sure of this, I again paused to listen; then, as no sound reached me, I went in and out among the trees and shrubs, probing the latter with my sword and searching every likely place. In this fashion I had covered three parts of the ground, and had wellnigh given up all hope of finding anything, when suddenly there came a rending crash from the far end of the orchard, and by the sound of it not twenty yards from where I was then engaged in exploring the recesses of a laurel bush.

Darting off in the direction of the noise, I soon perceived the cause of it. Someone had gone by sheer force through a lofty hedge of privet, which served as a boundary to the orchard. Where one had thus escaped, another might be counted on to follow; taking a run, I hurled myself fiercely at the hedge, and after much struggling (for it was wondrous thick and strong) tumbled head foremost, out upon the other side.

Here a narrow foothold ended in a high, steep bank, and such was my eagerness that I had much ado to keep from rolling to the bottom; but by clutching at the grass I saved myself, and rising, looked about me. Below me lay a well-grown spinney, and from thence, though no one was in sight, came the sound of swiftly-running feet.

Next moment I was down the bank and speeding round the outskirts of the wood, with flying footsteps right ahead of me. I was reckoned very fleet in those days, but he whom I now pursued flew like the wind; and what with that, and the many bends and juttings of the wood, he beat me: run as I would I could not get a sight of him.

In this mad fashion we must have circled round the wood at least three times, and I was just wondering what the end of such a giddy chase would be, when suddenly the running footsteps of my quarry ceased behind a clump of bushes thirty yards or so ahead. Breathless, I stopped to listen. The hurried pad of feet was followed by a curious scraping noise--then all was still again.

Drawing my sword I crept up to the bushes and took a cautious peep beyond them. But there was no one visible, and, indeed, I had not thought there would be. Still, I was greatly puzzled, for it seemed certain that the fellow could neither have run on nor through the wood without my hearing him. Where, then, was he?

Asking myself that question, I fell to searching carefully with hand and sword among the bushes. But they proved innocent of harbourage; no one was there. In doing this I came beneath a thick-leaved oak tree, and chancing to glance up, was startled by the vision of a pair of shoeless, grey-hosed feet, which dangled from a lofty branch; no more of their owner was visible to me, the rest of him being hidden by the foliage.

So astonished was I by this sight, that at first I could do naught save stare in blank amazement. Then an idea came to me. Walking off as though I had not noticed anything, I covered twenty yards or more, then turned suddenly and faced the tree. Barely had I done this ere a pistol shot rang out, and, as the bullet whistled past my head, I saw the evil, crinkled mask of Tubal Ammon peering at me from the oak leaves.

*CHAPTER III*

*Up a Tree*

Too utterly amazed either for speech or action, I stood stock-still and watched the pistol smoke curl slowly up above the tree; while Tubal Ammon, shooting forth his ugly head until it hung out like a green-framed gargoyle, surveyed me with a hideous leer. Thus for a moment there was a tense silence as we stared at one another.

"Well met!" said I at last.

"And badly aimed," quoth he, grinning as though the thing were but a jest.

"Quite well enough for me," I answered, folding my arms and frowning on him. "Another inch or so and----"

"Aye, that is true," he broke in quickly. "Yet doth an inch make all the difference betwixt a good shot and a bad one. But, verily, the leaves were in my way, nor, to tell the truth, was I very steady on this branch."

"Make no excuses," I replied: "you did your best to kill me; that is quite sufficient."

"Nay, 'twas a chancy accident," said he, bringing his monkey head a little farther out. "Look you, when you walked away just now I took a thoughtless aim--'twas habit--nothing more. Then when you swung round suddenly I started on this perch of mine and fired by accident."

"That is a lie!" I thundered.

"Nay, friend, 'tis gospel truth. If I had wished to kill you should I not have done it while you lurked beneath this tree?"

"No; for you could not see me then, by reason of the leaves."

"Ah, there you err most grievously. I saw you well. You made a lovely mark. I could have shot you easily."

"Enough!" I answered sharply. "We shall gain naught by arguing the matter. Listen, friend Tubal Ammon, this is our second meeting. Three nights ago you would have killed me on the road----"

"Nay, wrong again," he put in eagerly. "'Twas but an empty threat; and greatly did I suffer for it. Yea, verily, I still can feel the kick you gave me. Yet do I not complain," he added with a snivel. "'Twas well deserved."

"It was, indeed," said I; "and a pistol bullet had been more so. But let that pass. Say, what brought you lurking round our house just now?"

"My conscience!"

"Ho! ho!" I mocked. "The conscience of one Tubal Ammon, eh? A groat for it!"

"Nay, 'tis above all price," he whined, shutting his eyes and drawing down the corners of his ugly mouth. "A fortune would not buy it."

"Quite so," said I. "You cannot buy a shadow. Again, what brought you spying on us from the tree?"

"A guilty conscience," he replied; "for did I not reward great goodness with a base ingratitude? Yea, verily. Ever since I treated you thus shamefully black thoughts have been my portion. I could not rest. I felt that I must look upon the house of him whose kindness had been thus wickedly requited. Perchance, thought I, I may behold him also. Therefore I got me into your orchard while it was still dark, and waited. Soon after daylight came I heard the opening of a casement, and looking from my hiding-place behind a bush beheld an old man standing at a window. As fine a gentleman as I have ever seen. Say, friend, was that your father?"

"Yes. Go on," I answered sharply.

"Ah me! Now just to think of it!" quoth Tubal Ammon, drawing in his breath softly. "The very man whose name I heard so oft from him who was so good to me aboard that ship. Well, friend, I watched your father till he left the window, and presently I heard your voice. Then, creeping up beside the wall, I climbed that tree and gazed into the room. I could just see you both; and twice you heard me and looked forth."

"And didst hear what we talked about?" I asked.

"Nay, I caught nothing save a hum of voices," he answered readily.

"And what of the black cat?"

He started at those words; then, with a little shudder, answered:

"Ah, an evil beast as ever was. I found it just above me in the tree, and cast a noose about its neck, meaning to strangle it for fear it should betray me, but it shot off and took my cord along with it. Soon afterwards the faithless branch broke, and--well, you know the rest. Thus ends my true confession, friend--what say you?"

"Why, this," I answered sternly; "the conscience part of it is little to my liking; for 'tis my firm belief you came to spy, and afterwards to rob. If it be not so--if my judgment is at fault, come down and prove your words."

"How so? What mean you, friend?" he asked.

"Come down, and let me take you to my father," I replied.

"Nay, nay!" cracked Tubal Ammon, shaking his head until the leaves around it fairly danced. "I dare not."

"And why not?"

"Because methinks that you would hold me prisoner and deliver me to justice."

"Nay, have no fear of that. You are not worth the trouble. Come, then, and tell my father what you have told me. No harm will come of it. You shall go free. You have my word for that."

"I will consider it," said Tubal Ammon, and with that disappeared behind the leaves.

As I stood listening a gentle click came from the tree.

"What are you doing there?" I shouted.

"Wrestling with my thoughts," came back the high-pitched answer.

"Or reloading--which?" I asked. "If 'tis the latter, save yourself the trouble, for, look you, I am safe from bullets."

With that I slipped behind a tree-trunk, and for wellnigh a minute there was silence. Then out popped Ammon's shaven head again.

"'Twould seem your faith in me is small," he sang.

"Truly it is not very great," I answered. "Why have you reloaded?"

"Because necessity is best served by readiness, good friend."

"You are not coming down, then?"

"Nay, I have considered it most carefully. I am not coming down."

"What, then?"

"Well, friend, it doth appear to me that we are quits. You have no pistol, and therefore cannot come against me; nor can you even leave that tree with safety. By the same token I am swordless, and therefore 'twould be a matter of exceeding risk for me to descend; for if I fired and missed, what then? Thus, you are there, and I am here."

"Yes, and you would kill me if you could for all your priceless conscience."

"Nay, put it not thus harshly, friend. Say, rather, that I must be free at all cost."

"Which goes to prove a guilty conscience."

"No, a ready wit. But let us not waste words. _Verbum sat sapienti_. Truly my Latin needs a little furbishing; still, 'twill serve. Look you, friend, I offer thee a clean, straight bargain. Go thy way and let me go mine."

"The time has gone for bargaining," I answered sternly. "I will stay here till help arrives. 'Twill not be long, I fancy."

On hearing that his thin lips parted in a grin which showed two rows of firm-set teeth and made his face a picture of maliciousness.

"Ah, say you so?" he hissed. "Then I am ready. _In omnia paratus_. And yet again, _eventus stultorum magister_."

With that he disappeared from view, the branches shook, and in a flash I knew that he was bent on swift pursuit and murder. But scarcely had he moved when a cry rang out behind me, and turning round, I saw my father speeding round the wood-end, twenty yards off, with a pistol in his hand.

"Have a care! Come not too close!" I shouted, pointing to the tree. "He is up there, with a pistol!"

"Who?"

"The man we want."

"He is fairly caught, then," quoth my father grimly, as he stopped and cocked his pistol.

"Be not too sure of that," I answered.

Even as I spoke, there came a great commotion from the tree, as of one struggling desperately; and then a frantic, gurgling cry broke out:

"Help! caught by neck! Strangling. Help!"

"'Twould seem as though swift justice had him," said my father. "Come, let us see," he added, moving forward.

"Nay, have a care," said I. "I trust him not. He is as crafty as Old Nick. To go beneath the tree might mean a well-aimed bullet."

"Nathless, we cannot see the villain hang. What's to be done? Is he high up, think you?"

"Yes, near the top; or so at least he was."

"Ah, then, I have it. We must get a ladder. There is that long one hanging on the garden wall. The very thing. Come, Michael, let us fetch it. Hark! he is surely strangling," he added, as the cries grew still more guttural and frantic. "Come, quickly!"

So off we sped, and having got the ladder, and a brace of loaded pistols, returned full quickly to the spot. But there were no cries now; leaves lay thick beneath the oak tree, but its erstwhile shaking branches were quite still, and not a sound was to be heard.

"Belike enough the miserable wretch is dead by now," remarked my father, as we laid the ladder down and listened for a while. And with that he would have gone straight forward to the tree; but my knowledge of the "miserable wretch's" ways enjoined greater caution.

"Stay! Let us try this first," I said.

Drawing a pistol from my belt, I fired into the tree and listened carefully; but there was neither sound nor movement, save where the bullet tore its way.

"Dead, sure enough!" exclaimed my father.

"Well, we will prove it now," said I, though far from certain of the risk we ran in doing so.

Soon we had the ladder reared against a lofty branch: then, taking a pistol in my hand, I climbed up cautiously into the tree.

At first I could see little, by reason of the thickness of the foliage; but as I neared the top 'twas quickly evident that Tubal Ammon was not there. Some broken twigs betrayed the place where he had sat; but that was all the sign there was of him.

"Well!" cried my father from below. "What see you, Michael? Is he there?"

"No, sir; he is not here," I answered. "'Tis as I thought--we have been fooled; our bird has flown."

"Well, well; no matter," said my father, with, methought, a touch of disappointment in his voice. "'Twere better so than that he should be hanging."

"Be none so sure of that," I murmured to myself, descending quickly to the ground. And there we stood and faced each other, like the beaten men we were.

"Dost know who he was?" enquired my father with a searching look.

"Yes, full well," I answered.

"Ah! and who then was he?"

"Tubal Ammon!"

My father started back.

"What!" he cried, "the man who held thee on the road three nights ago?"

"The very same, sir," I replied.

"Then, indeed, it hath an ugly look. What, think you, brought him prowling round our place?"

"The hope of thieving, sir, I fancy."

"Ah! so you think he is then but a common thief?" exclaimed the old man hopefully.

"Nay, far from common," I replied; "for, verily, he spouted Latin by the yard."

"Latin!" echoed my father, with a start. "A footpad quoting Latin? That makes the thing more ugly still. I like it not. Michael," he added, laying a hand upon my arm, and lowering his voice, as though afraid of listeners, "think you that he heard or saw what passed betwixt us?"

"Nay, I scarcely think so; in fact, I asked him and he said he did not--though, verily, the word of such a prick-eared knave is little to be valued. But even if he did both see and hear, methinks he would make little of it."

"Well, well; 'tis to be hoped your way of looking at it is the right one. Michael" (he dropped his voice into a whisper and glanced quickly round about him), "Michael, what if he were a creature of that rascal Ferguson?"

"Nay, sir," I laughed, though feeling far from easy; "it seems to me you set too great a store upon the knave. He is a thief, and nothing else: perchance one who hath seen better days--and, therefore, the worst kind of thief. But 'tis my firm belief that he has earned a handsome lesson, and that he will not trouble us again."

My father stroked his chin and gravely shook his head.

"I like it not," he murmured; "and certainly the window shall be watched for many nights to come." He cast a far-off look towards the hills. "Michael, it is as though I saw great trouble brooding over us. If that comes, we two will stand together firmly side by side to meet it. Is that not so, my son?"

"Ah, that we will, indeed!" I answered, grasping his outstretched hand.

Just then the breakfast bell clanged forth, and taking up the ladder, we went home in broody silence.

*CHAPTER IV*

*Three Ships*

Youth has two suns to every cloud: when one is hid the other shines. Therefore, notwithstanding all the turmoil of the early morning and the knowledge that our house concealed a secret which could hang us both, I soon, for the time at any rate, clean forgot these matters. And so, when about ten o'clock I buckled on that fine new sword and stepped (nay, swaggered were a truer word for it) down townwards, there might have been no forgeries, no Ferguson the Plotter, no Tubal Ammon, and no Black Box in existence.

For one thing, 'twas as fine a day as any man could wish to see. A fresh breeze stirred the leaves; the birds were singing gaily; while through the trees came glimpses of our glorious bay, flashing like diamonds in the sunlight. Thus I was as happy as a king (nay, happier than most kings!), and as I strode along, with hand on sword-hilt, I gave a cheery nod to old acquaintances; frowned sternly on ill-mannered boys; and cast gay smiles at pretty girls who, ever and anon, peeped out from upper windows.

Enough, it was a fine bright morning, and I was in fine feather, with as little thought of coming evil as the larks which soared above my head. Yet I had scarce set foot inside the town before 'twas clear that some strange business was afoot. For the women-folk stood gossiping excitedly at doors, while every man I came across seemed to be hurrying seaward.

"What is the news?" I asked of one who sped towards me.

"News!" he answered, turning his head upon his shoulder as he ran. "Three ships, black ships!"

"Well, what of that?" I shouted; but, heeding not, he fled upon his way.

Perceiving that there was little to be gained by questioning, I joined the merry rout which swarmed towards the sea-front. And there, sure enough, beating to windward in that part of the bay we call the Cod, were three strange foreign-looking vessels--one, by the rig of her, a frigate, though she showed no guns; the other two small merchantmen. And now I understood the cause of all this great excitement; for neither of the three ships flew a colour, and somehow, in that first swift glance, I felt they boded ill for little Lyme.

However, there was small room for thought just then. You know the Cobb, that world-famed mole of ours, which curves out seaward like a mighty shepherd's crook, and serves us for a harbour, quay, and everything? Well, everyone was making for that point of vantage, and so you may be sure I lost no time in following.

The far end of the Cobb (that is, the sea end) was already thickly covered with an excited, wondering crowd, and, shouldering my way into the front line, I soon learned much. How that these three mysterious craft had first been seen at daybreak beating in slowly against a northerly wind. How, later on, a ten-oared boat had put off from the largest vessel, with three men seated in her stern, and made for Seatown, a little creek some five miles farther down the coast; and, having landed there her passengers, had presently returned to the ship bearing but one of them. And, moreover, in conclusion, how an hour before (that is, before I reached the Cobb) Master Thomas Tye, surveyor of the port of Lyme, and some of his men, had rowed out to the ships themselves for information, gone aboard the frigate, and had not since been seen.

Most of this I learned from our deputy searcher of customs, Master Samuel Dassell, who, armed with his powerful telescope, stood close to me, and kept an eye on everything.

Again, some thought the vessels Dutch, some French (I remember Dassell stood quite firm for Dutch); some dubbed them pirates, others privateersmen: but one and all agreed 'twas passing strange they flew no colours, and that the frigate veiled her guns; and therefore that the whole thing had an ugly look.

You may be sure I did not hear all this without thinking of the amazing things which I had seen, read, and heard that very morning at The Havering. Indeed, the more I stared at the three black invaders of our bay, the more my thoughts flew inland to that which lay hid behind the secret panel in my father's study, until at length the ships and box of ebony seemed joined in one black plot.

But, as our old sergeant used to put it when he caught us loose--let us have no mooning. Nor was there much chance for it that morning; for just as I was squinting at the ships through Dassell's spyglass, the crowd behind us swayed about, and a fisherman came elbowing and panting through it.

"Well, and what now, Joe Rockett?" asked Dassell, turning on him sharply. "Dost bring us news from Seatown, then?"

"News?" gasped the fellow, wiping the sweat from his forehead, for 'twas mighty hot. "News? Aye, that I do, sir. Cargoes of it!"

"Then let us have it quick," says Dassell. "What is it?"

"Why," replied the fellow, pointing to the ships, "you see them vessels, sir?"

"See 'em!" says Dassell, with a scornful laugh. "Good Lord, yes! Haven't we been staring at 'em for at least three hours?"

"Well," says the man, "just after daybreak a ten-oared boat put off from yonder frigate and came ashore at Seatown creek."

"I know that, Rockett," says the deputy, closing his spy-glass with a snap.

"Aye, maybe you do, sir," continued Rockett, "but maybe neither you nor these gentlemen here know what it brought?"

"No, that I don't. What was it?" asked the deputy.

"Why, what think you now?" says Rockett, casting a swift glance at the enquiring faces gathered round him. "Well, I'll tell 'ee. Three fine pretty gentlemen, wi' swords and pistols, stepped ashore from her, and came along to where some of us was a-spreading out our nets upon the sands, and behind 'em came a seaman carrying a basket filled wi' bottles of canary and neats' tongues. Well, up they comes, gave us the top o' the morning, like the fine gentlemen they were, and then, what think you, friends?--well, if they didn't ask us to join 'em in the neats' tongues and canary! Yes, by my soul they did!"

"And you didn't refuse, eh? No, I'll warrant me you joined them, Rockett," says Dassell, smiling grimly.

"Aye, you'm right there, sir, we did," grinned Rockett, smacking his lips; "and it were wondrous good."

"I'm sure of that," said Dassell. "And what next?"

"Why, then one of 'em asked us if we'd any news to give. And we told him as how 'twas said there was rebellion by the Duke of Argyle up to Scotland.

"'And is that all you've got for us?' he asked; and we told en yes.

"'Well, then, we've got more than that, my man,' says he. 'For, look you, there's rebellion in Ireland, and there's like to be one in England too.' Says we, we hoped not, being much amazed and troubled at the saying. But at that they only laughed and fell a-talking to each other in some unknown tongue. Just then a waft were hoisted from the frigate yonder, and the finest of the three stepped back aboard the boat and rowed away; while t' other two asked us the nearest road to Haychurch, and away they sped as though 'twere life and death wi' 'em."

"And is that all, my man?" asked Mr. Dassell.

"Yes, fore-right it be so, sir," says Rockett.

"And who knows of this at Seatown?"

"Well, there be the Surveyor o' the Customs there. He came down to the shore after these merry gentlemen had gone their way, and we told en all about it. 'Um,' says he, 'the Mayor o' Lyme must know,' and off he goes to Chidcock for his horse; and I came here along the shore. What make you of those vessels, sir?"

"I make no good of them," replied the deputy. "I wager that they're up to mischief."

"Aye, sure," says Rockett. "A ship as flies no flag is like a robber wi' a mask."

"Ah! what's this?" exclaimed the deputy, who was looking through his spy-glass. "Yes, 'tis old Sam Robins in his boat. They hail him from the frigate; he goes alongside. Fool! e has handed up his fish and gone aboard!"

"Blid and 'ouns!" sang Rockett. "Like enough he hath been made a prisoner!"

'Twas true enough; old Robins had been swallowed up, even as Tye and his men were, two hours earlier. Faith! 'twas like the messengers whom Joram sent to Jehu; for whosoever went aboard those ships came not back again. Alas for poor Sam Robins' his sale of fish that morning was to prove the worst he ever made, and cost him dearly in the future.

"I go to seek the Mayor," quoth Dassell, and so passed through the crowd and left us.

With all the happenings of that fateful day I will not weary you. Hour by hour excitement grew, till everyone was on the tiptoe of perplexity and expectation.

As for the Mayor of Lyme, one Gregory Alford, he was wellnigh beside himself because of these three mysterious ships which thus kept beating up and down our bay, and (though a gun was fired from shore) refused to answer or to send the King's boat back to land. A Royalist to his finger-tips, and owner of two vessels doing a fine trade in cloths with the merchants of Morlaix, he was also a bitter persecutor of the Nonconformists, and, at that very time, had the minister and leaders locked up snugly in the jail. For the which he was much hated, Lyme being then a hot-bed of dissent. Thus, when, scarce knowing what he did, he had the town drums beaten, and called out the town guard (a sorry tag of ill-armed men), the people laughed and jeered, and asked how that was going to help the matter.

Not till the afternoon was well advanced did I bethink me to go home, and then 'twas to find the place deserted, save for old Anne, the housekeeper; and she, poor soul, was sorely deaf. After much bawling, I made out that news of the ships had reached even to this quiet spot, and that all our faithless hands--groom, gardener, boy, and everyone--had gone down to the Cobb. As for my father, she handed me a letter from him. It told me that he had received an urgent summons eight miles inland to the bedside of an old friend who lay dying, and that he would not return till nightfall. A _post scriptum_ bade me watch the garden when the dusk came.

This suited me right well. Laughing at the thought of Tubal Ammon, I saddled my mare (the ever-faithful Kitty), rode back to the town, and, having put my horse up at the "George" there, hurried seawards.

'Twas now high tide, and thus the Cobb was cut off from the land;[1] but a great crowd was gathered on the shore, with the drums and town guard in the rear.

[1] The Cobb did not then, as now, join the land, but was out off from it at high water.

Pushing through the throng, I gained a spot near Dassell and the Mayor, and added two more eyes to those already fixed upon the ships, which had now come to anchor in the bay.

"Well, well, what make you of it now?" I heard the Mayor ask Dassell anxiously.

"Rank mischief," snapped the deputy.

"What's to be done, then?"

"Naught can be done, sir. The time for doing has gone by. Had I had my way, the scoundrels should have answered long ago, or been the heavier by some cannon-balls. But now it is too late. We can do naught save watch."

The Mayor groaned aloud; the councillors behind him stared like frightened sheep; but no one had a helpful word to offer.

And so we stood and watched; watched till our eyeballs ached; watched till the sinking sun caught all three vessels in a dazzling glare and made them stand out black as ink, like things of ugly fate. Then, just on sunset, we heard a great commotion on the ships; the ring of sharply-given orders, the hurried tread of feet upon the decks, the creak of pulleys--all these reached us clearly across the smooth, still waters. As for seeing, the glare of sun was all too blinding, and the ships too far away, for us to make out anything beyond a dim, blurred mass of swiftly-moving forms which showed above the bulwarks.

"What is it, think you, Dassell?" asked the Mayor in a fearful, gusty whisper.

"Lowering boats on the off side, I fancy, sir," replied the deputy, as calm as though he had been speaking of the weather.

"Boats!" gasped Gregory Alford, raising his hands. "Boats! What! do you mean to say they're going to land?"

"I fancy so," said Dassell. "Nay, I am certain sure of it!" he added, raising his voice and pointing. "Hark! here they come!"

Even as he spoke we heard the splash of many oars; and presently five great boats laden with men, and with the captured King's boat following, drew from behind the ships.

At first they seemed to be making for the Cobb itself, but passing that by they swung round to the west of it and headed straight for shore. On seeing this we all ran pell-mell down to the sea. Heavens! how the shingle flew beneath our feet, and what a breathless, anxious crowd it was which gathered near the water! Verily, it seemed as if all Lyme stood waiting. Men, women, children, young and old were there, yet scarce a word was spoken; all eyes were fixed upon those sweeping oars, which brought we knew not what towards us. There was silence on the water, too--no sound save the creak and splash of oars; and I have oft thought since, when standing on that fateful spot, that perchance some dread presentiment of future ill hung over both the comers and the watchers!

The boats drew nearer, until at length we could make out a thick array of sword-hilts, pistol stocks, and muskets. Then, indeed, the crowd buzzed with excitement, and glancing at the Mayor I saw that he fairly quaked with fear, and that his face was deathly white. He tried to speak to Dassell, but he could not.

But there was little time to think of Master Alford, for now the foremost boat had grounded on the shingle, and in a twinkling those aboard were leaping for the shore. Some reached it dry-shod, others jumped short and splashed into the water; but one and all were quickly on the beach. For the most part they were white-wigged, fine-dressed gentlemen, with swords at their sides and pistols in their belts, while many carried muskets also.

They took no heed of us, save that one of them, who seemed to be a leader, turned, and holding up his hand, bade us fall back to make more room--the which we straightway did.

Meanwhile the other boats had drawn close in, and those aboard were leaping shoreward with a will. Eighty odd in all I counted. In the stern of the last boat a man sat all alone. He was arrayed in purple and a big plumed hat, with a single glittering star upon his breast, and wore a jewel-hilted sword. When all else had landed, and he came forward to the bows to follow, someone ran back into the sea, and, uncovering, made a knee for him, in order that he might not wet his feet, and with a gracious bow of thanks he stepped lightly from it to the shore. And then I knew him; for notwithstanding that five years had left some mark upon it, there could be no mistake about that face of almost girlish beauty: and as he stood there for a moment in the slow of the sunset methought it was small wonder that the common people worshipped him.

"Monmouth!"

At first the magic word sped through the crowd from mouth to mouth in startled whispers; then, suddenly, as though by one consent, a great shout rent the air:

"A Monmouth! A Monmouth! Liberty! The Protestant religion!"

Again and yet again the ringing cry uprose, until the grey old cliffs behind us seemed mad with echoes; then, as the last shout died away, a voice which sounded like a puling child's after such tumult broke out upon the outskirts of the throng:

"Traitors! Treason!"

Looking round that way I saw good Master Gregory Alford speeding for the town as fast as two fat legs could carry him, his coat-tails flying wide upon the wind.

Verily the Mayor of Lyme had proved full bitterly that high estate is apt to have its drawbacks; and also that "A Certain Person" had made no bad choice of landing-places.

The drums and town guard had already disappeared; so also had friend Dassell.

*CHAPTER V*

*The Man with the King's Evil*

'Twas plain to see by the glowing look upon his handsome face how touched the Duke was by these joyous acclamations. Doffing his hat he bowed both graciously and long; then, as he raised his hand for silence, a sudden hush fell on the eager throng before him.

"Dear friends," said he, in a voice that rang out clear and sweet upon the stillness, "I thank you more than words can tell for the thrice-hearty welcome ye have given me back to that country from which, as ye know, I have so long been exiled. Dear people, this is neither time nor place for speech-making, but as for the reason of my coming--well, methinks the cries which just now fell upon mine ears proclaim how thoroughly ye are aware of it. Truth, like good wine, needs little bush, and certainly those words of yours rang true as Spanish steel; for verily, dear friends, I am Monmouth, your Monmouth, son of your late beloved King, the champion of that Protestant religion which ye hold so dear, and of those liberties which are the very birthright of our country."

At this another mighty shout went up of "Monmouth! our Monmouth! Liberty! The Protestant religion!" and while the air still rang with it, a woman, well advanced in years, ran from the crowd, and kneeling at the Duke's feet, caught up his hand and kissed it. At first he started back, then, having looked keenly at her face, raised her tenderly and kissed her on the cheek.

It turned out afterwards that she was some old servant who had known him when a boy; and you may be sure that this gracious act endeared him still more greatly to the simple-hearted folk who witnessed it. Indeed, it seemed as if they were all bent on following the ancient dame's example, for with a loud, glad cry the crowd surged towards the Duke, and had not those about him held them back he must have been wellnigh pressed into the sea.

Then Monmouth once more raised his hand for silence.

"Good people all," said he, "ere we set forth upon our enterprise I would have you join in giving thanks to God for merciful deliverance vouchsafed us from the King's ships while at sea."

Uncovering, the Duke knelt down upon the shore, and nearly all the rest did likewise.

To me he seemed to pray both well and earnestly, and none the less so for that his prayer was short. Ah, how little did we think just then that in a few short months many of us would hear prayers and speeches on that very spot from lips which would soon be closed for ever!

On either side of Monmouth knelt two men, who, by the look of them, might also well have let go a prayer, for both were dressed as ministers. He on the right was short and stout, with a rounded, happy face. His eyes and mouth were tightly closed; his hands were clasped before him. The man upon the left was tall and bony, with a face that ill accorded with his garb, being sharp and crafty, and, as I found out when he turned it suddenly towards the glowing sky, blotched scarlet with king's evil. A tousled wig hung down upon his forehead, and beneath it two small villainous black eyes went to and fro as though they were on wires. Throughout the prayer he never ceased to rub his bony hands together like one who washed; while, ever and anon, he jerked forth hallelujahs through his nose. I knew him not from Adam then (I was to know him all too well thereafter!), but, verily, I hated him upon the spot.

Prayer being ended, the Duke unsheathed his sword, and holding it high above his head, cried:

"I draw this weapon in the cause of liberty and true religion, and may God bless the work that lies before us!"

A loud "Amen!" broke from the crowd, and Monmouth said:

"Forward, and let those who are well disposed towards us follow!"

Then Monmouth's men formed up in double file, a blue flag was unfurled, in front of which the Duke took up his place, with a fine-dressed gentleman on either side of him; then those of our townsmen who had the courage of their voices (some hundred odd) fell in behind, and so they all went marching to the market-place.

Here beneath the flag, which bore the motto, _Pro religione et libertate_, a proclamation was read aloud by the lanky, black-eyed minister, whose evil looks had struck me so upon the shore; and as he read he fell at times into the broadest Scotch, which it is quite beyond me to describe. Moreover, what he read was far too long to set down here. Suffice it to say that 'twas one long indictment of the King (or, as they put it, James, Duke of York), charging him, among other crimes, with having poisoned his brother, the late King Charles, and ending with these words:

"Now let us play the men for our people, and for the cities of our God; and the Lord do that which seemeth good unto Him."

While the reading of this long tirade was going forward I sought some information.

"Who are those two fine-dressed men who stand on either side the Duke?" I asked of a sour-faced fellow at my elbow.

"Those are Monmouth's generals," he answered with a snivel. "He on the right is Lord Grey of Wark, of whom I cannot say much; but he on the left is Master Fletcher of Saltoun, a man well skilled in carnal warfare, a godly man to boot."

"Ah, and that round-faced minister who tries to look so solemn and yet cannot. Who is he?"

"'Tis Master Hooke, the Duke's private chaplain, a worthy man, I trow, though somewhat Popish of appearance."

Just then the reader of the declaration turned himself to get a better light, and the setting sun fell full upon his blotched, scorbutic cheek and made it look as though 'twere stained with blood.

I gazed upon him spellbound for a moment, then I asked:

"And prithee, who is he that reads?"

The voice of my informant dropped into a solemn whisper, as though 'twere something sacred that he spoke of, as he answered:

"That is Doctor Robert Ferguson, chaplain to Monmouth's army, and a terror to all workers of iniquity."

On hearing this I started round as though the man had struck me, and barely saved myself from crying out.

"What's that?" I gasped. "Ferguson the Plotter?"

The fellow glowered upon me for a space, looking me up and down with angry eyes.

"Thy tongue wags over free for one so young," snarled he at last. "Nay, Ferguson the godly. See how his face lights up with blazing zeal!"

But that was enough for me. Gaining the outskirts of the crowd I hurried to the "George" to get my horse, pursued by such a hornet's nest of wild, bewildering thoughts as fairly made my head sing.

On coming near the jail I heard a great commotion going forward, and there, as I live, was Simon Jackson, the Nonconformist blacksmith, bare-armed and sledge in hand, raining fierce blows upon the stout, nail-studded door. He had already burst the town-hall open to make a storage place for Monmouth's baggage, and was now bent on setting free his brother Nonconformists, who, as I have said, had lately been imprisoned by the Mayor.

Even as I looked the door flew open with a crash, and out stepped half a score of white-faced, startled men, among them old Sampson Larke, the grey-haired Anabaptist minister.

"There," methought as I turned away, "falls the pride and power of Master Gregory Alford!"

I found the inn yard humming with excitement. Serving men and maids ran to and fro distracted; for the news had already reached outlying villages, and men poured in from every quarter, some armed and eager, others idly curious, but all of them hot and thirsty, and calling loudly to be served with ale: while on a top step stood the landlord, surveying the giddy sight like one bedazed. The name of Monmouth was on every lip, and each new-comer added to the din.

Shouldering my way through the buzzing, drinking throng I made for my horse. The stable in which I had left her lay round a dark, far corner of the yard, and on turning this I noticed that the door was closed and that a flickering light showed underneath it. This surprised me not a little, and hurrying up I tried the door. To my great astonishment I found it fastened on the inner side. I called, but no one answered save my mare, who gave a joyous whinny. Listening for a moment I made out voices talking in a whisper, and thus feeling certain that some mischief was afoot I put my shoulder to the door (an ancient, rickety affair) and burst it open. Then indeed I started back, as well I might, for there was my horse already saddled, while beside her stood two burly, steel-capped fellows, armed with sword and pistol. One of them held a lantern, the other Kitty's bridle, and both regarded me with guilty, startled faces, like the thieving dogs they were.

Just then the mare turned round her pretty head to look at me, and neighed again.

"Is this thy mare?" asked he who held the bridle.

"Well--yes," I answered; "at least, that is, I thought it was; but now it seems as though I must have been mistaken."

"Thou hast a mocking tongue, young man," whined he who held the lantern.

"Yet that were surely better than a thieving hand," quoth I.

"What mean you?" he asked, taking a step towards me.

"Exactly what I say," I answered slowly. "In other words, you are a pair of sneaking thieves."

At that each laid a hand upon his sword and eyed me fiercely, while he with the light came forward in a threatening fashion.

"We are no thieves," he hissed, showing his yellow teeth. "We claim thy mare for the cause."

"And, prithee, what cause is that?" I asked.

"The cause of liberty and truth," whined he.

"The cause of Monmouth, eh?"

He nodded frowningly.

"Then," said I, "if liberty and truth go hand in hand with thieving, may God help the Duke! Let go that bridle," I added, striding up to the fellow who had laid a hand on it again.

He hesitated for a moment, glaring upon me with a pair of angry, bloodshot eyes; but, though only eighteen years, I topped him by a good three inches, and doubtless my face told tales besides. Growling something anent "godless upstarts" he drew back sulkily and joined his comrade by the door which he had closed. And there they stood muttering together and casting ugly glances at me.

Turning Kitty round, I took her bridle on my arm and moved towards them.

"Open that door," I said, "and let me pass."

But they were two to one, and odds give courage even unto cowards. Whipping out their swords they set themselves against the door.

"You leave that horse or go not," said one.

"Aye, verily," quoth the other.

Stopping, I also drew my sword and said:

"Ah! say you so? Listen; do you know that I have but to call, and half a score good friends will come to teach you honesty? Again, I say, open that door and let me pass."

"Ah!" jeered the fellow who had closed it. "You come not over us with that, young man. Know you that we also have some friends without; not half a score, but three score--well-armed withal, and zealous in the cause to boot."

There was ugly truth in that. I thought swiftly for a moment. Yes, 'twas my only chance!

"Fools!" I cried. "You do not know what business I am bent on!"

"Nay, how should we know it?" growled the bridle man. "What is it?"

"Why, such as, if you knew it," I replied, "methinks would make you open that door with right goodwill."

"Prithee then, tell us what such mighty business is," sneered the other. "Whom doth it concern?"

"One Robert Ferguson," I answered slowly.

At that the fellows started as though my words had been a pistol barrel.

"Ferguson!" quoth one of them uneasily. "Our godly chaplain!"

I nodded, though more than doubtful of the godliness; and he added:

"Why, then, didst not tell us this before, friend?"

"What now!" I shouted with a show of anger as I sheathed my sword. "Am I, then, to cry my business out to every brace of thieves I meet?"

"You speak with heat, not knowing," whined the lantern-bearer. "Verily, we are no thieves, but honest fighters for the cause, seeking horses, which are sorely lacking. And if we had known the nature of thy business, we----"

"Fool!" I broke in fiercely. "Cease thy prating, and open that door at once, or methinks 'twill be the worse for you. One word of this delay to Dr. Ferguson, and----"

Back flew the door, and, as I moved slowly forward, the opener of it laid a trembling hand upon my arm, saying:

"Pray you, sir, get not two honest fellows into trouble. 'Twas done in ignorance."

"I will consider that," I answered sternly, striding beside my mare into the yard with great relief. Truly, one Ferguson had served my purpose handsomely!

Turning to the left, in order to avoid the crowded yard, I passed down a well-known entry, and so came out into a dark and now quite deserted street.

"That was a narrow squeak, old girl," I whispered, stroking Kitty's silken neck, and, as though she understood, the pretty creature whinnied gently. Then I mounted, and away we fled for home.

In view of what had happened at the stable, I judged it best to keep as far as possible to by-ways; and so, instead of going through the town (the nearest road), I struck into a narrow, high-banked lane with sheltering trees on either side.

'Twas now dusk. Far off I heard the tumult of the town, rising and falling in a ceaseless hum; but here all seemed silent and deserted. Yet, even so, it was not long before I proved that Monmouth's men were guarding even such unlikely avenues; for just as Kitty, with a hill before her, dropped into an easy trot, I suddenly made out a group of fellows gathered near the top, beneath the shadow of a tree.

This was plaguy awkward, but yet more so when, as I drew nearer, they spread themselves across the road, and I made out they were armed with muskets. Still, there was nothing for it save to put a bold face on the matter; so, bringing Kitty to a walk, I went forward whistling carelessly, and had come within fifty yards of them, when one, who seemed to be a leader, stepped out, and holding up his hand, cried:

"Stop! Thy name and business, friend!"

At that I pulled up the mare, and shouted back:

"What's that you say?"

Fingering his musket-lock, he came a few steps nearer me, and bawled:

"Thou'rt somewhat hard of hearing, friend. I said, Thy name and business? Prithee, give both quickly."

"My name is of small account," I answered; "and for my business, know that it concerns one Robert Ferguson."

That name had done so well for me before, that I could think of nothing better; but, alack! it failed me this time.

"That will not serve thee, friend. 'Tis not sufficient," quoth the man sternly. "If thy business indeed concerns our chaplain, show thy pass, or give the watchword."

"Aye, verily! thy pass or watchword," sang another who had now come up with him.

Here, truly, was an ugly state of things. To turn and flee might mean a musket-ball for me or Kitty. I thought a moment. Yes, to surprise them was my only chance.

"The watchword, say ye? Yes, with all my heart."

So saying, I bent forward in the saddle, and, pressing my knees upon the mare's flanks, spoke softly to her. She gave an angry snort, down went her ears, and next instant she was rushing forward like a mad thing.

'Twas all so sudden that, for the nonce, those valiant keepers of the road were utterly confounded. With startled cries, they broke and fled towards the banks. Yet barely was I past them ere a musket-shot rang out, and a ball sang dangerously near my head. Another and another followed, but by that time I was beyond their reach.

Not till I was well past Uplime did I draw rein; then, pulling up beside a little wood, I stopped to breathe and think. Truly, my mare and I had already had a taste of what rebellion meant. A few short hours had made our quiet roads unsafe for honest men. "'Tis a pretty thing," I muttered, "if a fellow cannot ride home peacefully without the danger of a pistol bullet through his head. If this be the way of 'honest Protestants', then give me Popery! The sooner I am at The Havering, the better."