Chapter V: Part 5

Panting, I lay and stared into the face that almost touched my own. The moonlight showed it to me as a coarse one, blotched and hairy; while there was that about the eyes which spoke of desperate deeds, and life held cheap as dust. In truth, the man looked a ruffian of the lowest kind, who would have bartered whatsoever soul he had for money. I doubted not whose tools both he and his companion were.

"Well, and what now?" I asked, as well as want of breath would let me.

Grinning, he pressed still harder on my chest, and answered:

"Well said! What now?"

"Off with that knee of yours," I gasped, "unless you wish to kill me."

"Well, now, it might e'en go as far as that. Can't say. Hi! Dick," he called across his shoulder to the other, "take you his sword and pistols."

Forthwith my legs were loosed, and, thus freed, I would certainly have broke out struggling afresh, had not the galling knee made closer friendship with my heart until it wellnigh stopped its beating.

"Brute!" I gasped again, "you're killing me."

"Nay, not yet, methinks," quoth he, biting his lip and gloating o'er my agony. "Hold you his left hand, and gi' me a pistol, Dick," he added, with another cruel jab that fairly made me groan.

The other, who had withdrawn my weapons, hasted to obey, and next moment I was staring up the barrel of a pistol which threatened me between the eyes.

"Make one sound," hissed my tormentor savagely, "and there's a bullet through your head in no time."

His face endorsed the statement, and certainly I was not going to put it to the proof. At least his knee had left my chest, and for so much I was more than thankful. I took a long, deep breath, then gazed at each of them intently, as they knelt beside me, holding down my hands and threatening me with pistols--and those, alas! my own. Both were as ill-favoured, wicked-looking rascals as one could hope to see, armed with swords and knives, hired desperadoes fit for anything. In truth, things had an ugly look enough, but I was minded to know something of my future fate if it were possible.

"Well, and what next?" I asked.

"You come with us," said he who had been kneeling on me.

"Ah! and where to?"

"Where bidden and where led."

"Who sent you on this business?"

"That's our concern. Ask no more questions."

I had no wish to do so; and, indeed, I knew the answer to my last one just as well as they did. Yes, their master's name was graven on their evil faces. The tools of Ferguson were not to be mistaken.

"Wilt let me rise?" I asked.

Their answer was to free my arms and draw back a little, though still covering me with both pistols. So I sat up and stared at them afresh, the while I strove to form swift plans for their destruction. But this seemed hopeless beyond measure, for my sword lay well behind them; I had no weapon save my fists, and what were they against two pistol bullets, which the slightest threatening movement would most assuredly bring crashing through my skull? Nor would a shout for help be any less disastrous, even supposing help were to be had in such a lonely place at such a time. But I had little chance to think upon such profitless affairs, for, bringing the pistol nearer to my face, the leader said:

"Put your hands close together, that we may bind them. The rope, Dick!"

There being nothing else for it, I instantly obeyed, and held them out; while the man he called Dick brought forth a knot of cord and hasted to unwind it. Thus it seemed that, notwithstanding all my strength, I should soon be bound and helpless--entirely at the mercy of these two conspiring villains. But in that pressing moment some words of Coram's flashed into my brain.

"Stay!" I said, "there's surely some mistake."

He with the rope grinned mockingly, while his companion jerked the pistol threateningly and growled:

"What's that? What mean you?"

"Why, this," I answered, lowering my hands apart. "'Twere well to make quite sure of things before you act."

"What riddle's that?" asked he.

"No riddle," I replied. "A warning. Again I say, there's some mistake about this matter."

"Pish!" quoth he, "I'll take my chance of that. There's no mistake, I fancy, save on your side. Keep a still tongue, and hold your hands out. Dick, do you bind him instantly, We've lost good time enough already."

"All right!" I put in, as the other bent to do his work; "but don't blame me when it turns out that you have bound the wrong man after all."

Both started somewhat.

"Wrong man!" mocked he who held the pistol. "Not much, I fancy. A spy, a dangerous malcontent, an enemy to Monmouth's cause! What say you?"

"Why, this," said I, "that I am neither, therefore have a care. Listen," I went on slowly; "do enemies of Monmouth know his secret passwords?--Zion!"

The cord which had gone once around my wrists dropped off; the pistol jerked aside. With my left hand I struck the would-be binder in the chest and sent him flying backwards; while with my right I seized the barrel of the pistol. It went off with a deafening bang, and the bullet, missing my head by scarce an inch, went singing to the cliffs behind. Leaping up I wrenched the smoking weapon from its holder's grasp and brought the butt-end down with all my might upon his shoulder.

With a loud, fierce cry he staggered back, thus giving me the chance I needed. Snatching up the other pistol and my sword, which lay close by the water, I took a hurried aim at him; but the spray had got into the pan, and so when I pulled the trigger nothing came of it except a flash of flint and steel. Casting the faithless thing away, I turned a keen look on my foes. Their amaze was great, nor do I wonder at it, for indeed the change had been both sudden and bewildering. Thus for a moment we stood staring at each other, then out flew their swords.

Now, two to one is no great odds provided that the one cannot be taken in the rear; but as I then stood such a thing was more than possible. Therefore I made a sudden rush between the half-dazed fellows, and reaching the cliffs, which rose some dozen yards behind, stood with my back thereto and faced them.

"Come on!" I shouted, jeeringly. "The sooner this is settled now the better!"

At first they did not move, but stood there staring in the moonlight, dumbstricken as it seemed by such a turning of the tables. Then they came on slowly, cautiously, their heads thrust forward and their swords held back.

I waited for them eagerly, with blade-point lowered, impatient of their slowness and the space that lay betwixt us. Here was the very thing I longed for, sure enough--a clean, straight sword-fight--no one to disturb us, a kindly moon by way of light, and risk enough to make the matter pleasant. 'Twas as near as I could get to Robert Ferguson just then; besides, I owed these his varlets something, and was minded to repay the debt with usury.

On they came, creeping step by step, as though expecting I might rush upon them, until they were within three yards of me, and there they stopped. Then he whose knee I had such painful knowledge of made shift to speak.

"Hearken!" said he. "Wilt yield, or must we kill thee?"

"That is a question easy of the answering," said I. "Kill me if you can; but as for yielding--go to, now, act like men, not craven cowards. Fight, I say!"

I took a threatening step towards them, and they fell back hurriedly.

"Not so," quoth he, and verily methought I saw him quake with fear. "You have outwitted us, I own it freely. That being so it seems to me 'twere fair to strike a bargain. Thus, we will leave you here in peace and go our way."

"A very pretty plan," I answered mockingly; "but one which scarce commends itself to my desire. Listen! you go not from this place alive if I can help it."

That settled it. They drew together whispering for a moment, then came upon me with a desperate rush.

*CHAPTER XV*

*Tells How I Fleshed My Sword*

A moment later and the clash of steel rose merrily above the thunder of the waves; and with each movement of my sword the eager blood rushed faster through my veins and gave new zest to life. In short, I revelled in the business, and thought no more of lurking death than you do when you breathe. I had learned swordsmanship beneath my father's trained and watchful eye; the blade I wielded was his gift to me; my foes were Ferguson's own hirelings. What more could any man require to give him skill and courage? I needed nothing else at any rate; and so, with tight-set lips and watchful eye, I fought beneath the moon.

As for my adversaries, notwithstanding that they had been made to fight against their will, and thus lacked spirit, they yet soon proved themselves to be no paltry swordsmen; indeed, they showed such knowledge of the game that I was more than once hard put to it to save myself from thrust or cut. But, verily, my length of reach exceeded theirs by many inches--moreover, zeal and hatred count for much--and so it was not long before I sent one of them (he who had tried to bind me) reeling with a sword-thrust in the heart. His death-cry echoed loud above us in the cliffs, then down he crashed, a harmless heap, upon the shingle.

At that the other leapt back panting, and stared at me with fearful, terror-stricken eyes.

"Enough!" gasped he. "I yield!"

"Down with your sword, then," I answered sternly.

He cast his weapon to the ground, and, turning, would have fled; but in a moment I had darted after him and seized him by the neck.

"Hold! not so fast!" I said, shaking him till his teeth clicked. "To save your miserable life is one thing, to spread tidings is another."

"I swear to spread no tidings," came his chattering answer.

"Well said," quoth I; "you will not get the chance." Here my eye fell on the cord which had fallen from his hand when I had knocked him over. I led him to it. "See," I said, "you would have bound me with that rope; now let me do so much for you. On your back, I pray you."

Down he went, and lay thus while I tied him hand and foot.

"Good!" said I, regarding him intently when my task was finished. "That is another way we have with those who serve one Robert Ferguson. Be thankful that you do not lie as still as your companion yonder."

"The sea!" he gasped. "I pray you drag me nearer to the cliffs lest I be drowned."

"Nay, have no fear," said I, "'tis now high water; a little spray will serve to cool your blood. So now, good morrow to you, friend, and when you see your master tell him that his plans have failed for once."

With that I picked my pistols up and turned to leave him; but as I looked along the shore towards Lyme, I saw, to my dismay, three men come running in the moonlight; and by the way the foremost of them waved a hand to those behind I knew that they had seen me also.

What now? I wondered. Well, friends or foes, I judged it best to meet them ere they came upon my handiwork, and so I strode straight on towards them. Soon I made out that they were armed, for when some twenty yards away they stopped, drew swords, and thus stood waiting for me.

Moving boldly on as though they were not there, I had come within a dozen paces, when one of them stepped forward, right across my path.

"Halt!" cried he. "Who art thou?"

"Zion!" said I, stopping.

"Ah! and thy business?"

"Such as brooks no delay," I answered firmly, moving on again.

"Stay!" said he, while those behind pressed forward in a threatening fashion. "We heard pistol shots a little while ago; what was it?"

"Some fellows brawling on the shore up yonder," I replied; "but, look you, as I said before, my business brooks not dalliance. Go and make search yourselves."

With that I made to leave them, and by the look of things they were for letting me depart in peace; but at that very moment a ringing cry broke out behind us. I started round, and saw a sight which seemed to spell disaster. The wretch whom I had left for helpless on the shore had managed to break free, and now came running on with waving sword.

"Stop him! Hold him fast! Make sure of him!" he shouted.

*CHAPTER XVI*

*Concerning one Dan Foe--A Friend in Need*

My state was now more desperate than ever, for, in the twinkling of an eye, three swords were pointed at me, to which a fourth would soon be added. Drawing my own I went back slowly to the cliffs, they following.

This time the odds were overwhelming, and there seemed little chance enough of winning through; but still I was resolved to fight it out until I either did so or was killed. Take me alive they should not--that I swore.

At first I was for making one big dash for it; cutting my way right through the knaves, that is, and so escaping: but a moment's thought convinced me that 'twere madness to attempt it, for who could safely hope to turn aside three ready swords at once? One would be sure to find a place inside my body. No, there was nothing for it save to wait and play the ugly game out to a finish--whether life or death. And even as I told myself this was so, up came number four.

What with the struggle he had had to free himself, and then the run, his breath was wellnigh sped, and so he stood there, pumping out his very heart, the while he pointed at me with his sword.

"Well, and what now?" enquired the leader sternly. "Why gape you thus? Know you this fellow?"

"Know him!" gasped the bond-breaker. "Know him! Aye, verily!"

"Who is he, then?"

"One--Michael--Fane ... Spy ... malcontent ... murderer! I, Dick Harland, tell you so."

"Ah! whom hath he murdered?"

"My goodly comrade Adam Blunt. He lies up yonder stricken through the heart by this same fellow's sword."

"Is this thing true?" enquired the leader, turning to me.

"'Tis true enough that I have killed the rascal," I replied; "but 'twas a fair straight fight--not murder."

"This hath an ugly look," quoth he, stroking his beard the while he frowned upon me. "Why killed you him?"

"'Twas either that, or being killed myself," I answered; "and most of us choose life in place of death."

He paused a moment with a puzzled look, then turned to Harland, saying:

"You would have killed this man, then, eh?"

"Nay, not so. We had him down and were about to bind him, when he escaped us by a trick. Then we called on him to yield, but he withstood us."

"And why would ye have bound him?"

"Because our orders were to take him, dead or living."

"Ah! whose orders?"

"Our godly chaplain's."

"What! Dr. Ferguson's?'"

"The same. He bade us take this fellow at all costs. Two pounds was the reward for him if dead, and five if----"

He stopped and glanced around him foolishly. In his excitement he had let out a secret which he had not meant to. I started at his words: so did the leader.

"Two pounds if dead," he murmured to himself, "and five if living. Verily, the fellow hath some value, then. But, come," he added quickly, "you say that he escaped you by a trick. What trick was that?"

"Why, as we held him safely on the ground he gave the password of the night, and when, in our amazement, we drew back, he freed himself and laid about him handsomely."

"Ah, a dangerous fellow, by my life," rejoined the other, in whom, no doubt, the thought of promised gold was working. "He also gave it unto us just now. How came you by that word, young man?"

"I got it from a friend," I answered.

"Liar! liar!" broke in Harland fiercely. "He is a spy--a malcontent! He hath no friends among us."

"Stop!" said the leader, holding up a hand. "Such ranting will not help us. Young man," he added, frowning on me, "'tis clear that you are up to no good purpose; and now I come to think of it, you did deceive me when I spoke about the pistol shots we heard. Yea, verily, methinks the statement of our comrade here is true. But say, now, are you for us or against us?"

"Neither."

"Ah, there you stand condemned. A man who fights and kills as you have done this night, and then claims that he takes no side, is little to my liking. I trust him not. Therefore, lay down your sword and pistols and come with us peaceably. So shall your words be proven, whether they be true or false. Down with your arms, I say!"

I did not move, but gripped my sword a little tighter, and stood ready for the worst.

"You will not yield, then?" he went on, after watching me intently for a moment.

"Try me and see," I answered curtly.

"Which means a threat of further violence," quoth he.

"Nay, a simple invitation," I replied.

"Ah, so you mock me, eh?"

He took a threatening step towards me.

"Have a care! I pray you have a care!" sang Harland from behind. "That sword of his is over-ready, as my poor comrade Adam Blunt proved to his cost."

"Perchance your comrade lacked my skill," returned the leader sneeringly. "Again I ask, young man, wilt yield?"

"And again I answer--try me and prove the matter," I replied.

"I pray you let us fall upon him in a heap," cried Harland. "His pistols count for naught, for one of them hath been discharged and the other hath been soaked with water. Let us fall to, I say, and smite him hip and thigh."

"What now!" rejoined the other, turning on him angrily. "Dost take me for a craven coward? Do I, who fought in Cromwell's Ironsides, and who with this same blade have slain a good score of lusty fellows; do I, I say, need help from such as you against this stripling? Nay, verily, I trow not. I give you one more chance, young man," he added turning to me. "Wilt yield?"

"Not while I have a sword and life," I answered firmly.

"Your blood be on your head, then, not on mine," said he. "Friends, bear witness that I would have spared this fellow; also mark well my strokes, from which ye may learn something. Now, back with you and give us room."

They fell back hurriedly, and next moment we were at it tooth and nail.

That was a fight indeed, and one which even now, with over forty years between, still sets my blood a-tingling when I think of it.

This time my foe was no half-hearted fellow, but a battle-seasoned soldier, who by his own account--and as I doubted not--had fought in Cromwell's Ironsides, and smitten many a skilful swordsman to the death. As I write these words I see again the stern, set face, the gleaming eyes that flashed beneath his head-piece, the moonlight glimmering on his breastplate, the sword that seemed to be alive--so swift and ready were its movements. His height was little less than mine, and though I judged his years to be well over fifty, his quickness, both of hand and foot, was wonderful to see.

At first there was a look of mockery, if not of pity, on his face, but when he found how well I knew my business this soon changed to one of crafty eagerness. He thought me worth the killing, and he meant to do it; while I, on my part, had then a no less firm intention.

Thus round and round we went upon that narrow strip of shore, each fighting for his life beneath the staring moon; while those who watched us made no sound except to gasp when a stroke or thrust of more than common deadliness seemed to foretell the end.

At times our feet were fairly covered by the swirling foam, and once I was driven, knee-deep, back into the sea by a sudden, mighty rush that took me unawares, and came near finishing the business. But I saved myself by springing out of reach, and then, with an answering rush, drove my opponent back towards the cliffs.

And now it was that youth began to tell. The Roundhead's breath came faster than it had done, and there was more of fury in his fighting, less of tempered skill. Perceiving this, I played a luring game, and, retreating slowly, encouraged him to press me fiercely, content to guard myself while he attacked. His blows and thrusts came fast and furious, and one false movement would have surely meant my death, but I contrived to parry everything, and soon the tale began to tell upon him sorely. His breath rushed forth in gasps, and in the end I knew that I should kill him if the fight continued. But I had slain one man that night and had no desire to add another to the list if I could help it. Therefore I sprang back suddenly and cried:

"Hold! Let us end this business while we have the chance. You have fought well, indeed, but I am the younger man and have no wish to kill you. Let then each of us depart in peace while he hath both life and honour to his credit."

"What's that!" he wellnigh shrieked. "A beardless stripling such as thou doth offer quarter to a man like me? Behold my answer to your mockery!"

With that he charged upon me like a maddened bull, and, with a diving movement, aimed a blow at me which must have brought his very hilt against my ribs had it gone fairly home.

"How's that?" he hissed as he delivered it.

'Twas thus--with one swift, glancing stroke I turned his sword aside and ran him through the body. Our eyes met as I drew my blade out, and ne'er shall I forget the look in his; 'twas one of such startled horror and surprise as haunts me to this day.

He stood there swaying for a moment, staring at me like some stricken beast, then, with a sobbing cry of "Help! I'm done for!" reeled and fell back dead.

Heaven knows that when I saw him lying there a poor misshapen heap upon the shingle I felt no glory in the deed, but rather sorrow. He had fought manfully, and had, moreover, scorned to take advantage of my lonely state when urged to do so.

But there was little time for vain regrets, for barely had he fallen ere the other three came on with angry shouts and threatening swords.

"Have at him! Down with him!" they cried, and so pressed forward with a will, albeit with some caution also.

I fell back slowly till I reached the cliffs, then, having those behind me as a rear-guard, stood alert and ready, waiting for the onslaught; nor was it long in coming. There was a pause, then, as one man, they rushed upon me.

A dazzling flash of steel broke out beneath my eyes as three long shining blades shot forward in the moonlight. With one great swinging stroke I swept them all aside, then with a downward blow clave Harland through from chin to chine.

That was good start enough for anything, and made the other two draw back in doubtful wonder. But indeed they were fine lusty fellows, who by the look of them had known much fighting, and so next moment they came on again with still greater fierceness and determination.

For a time I held my own, parrying their deadly strokes, and checking every artful trick for mastering me; but no man can go on against such odds for ever, and what I had already gone through now told a woeful tale. My breath and strength began to fail, together with that quickness, both of hand and eye, which meant everything to me just then.

Suddenly my sword-arm stung with pain, and, by warm blood trickling down beneath my sleeve, I knew that I was wounded. At that I made a forward rush, then sprang aside and sought to gain some breath; but, perceiving how things stood, they got between me and the cliffs and drove me slowly back towards the sea.

My firm resolve now was to die fighting; take me alive, I swore they should not. I would, at any rate, save Ferguson three of his proffered pounds. Thus, as they came slowly on, I watched their every movement, and, by the look of exultation on their faces, I knew that they accounted me as vanquished, and only waited for a good safe chance either to make me prisoner or cut me down. But just as everything seemed hopeless, and I was meditating one last desperate effort, a loud voice hailed us from the cliff-top, crying:

"What's that? Who are you?"

"Help! help!" I answered, caring naught in my extremity whether I called on friend or foe.

That which followed was so utterly bewildering that I scarce know how to set it down with clearness. Fearing, doubtless, lest help might be at hand, and bent on ending matters ere it could arrive, my adversaries made a sudden furious rush, which forced me back, waist-deep, into the sea. Next moment, as it seemed, a man came running from the bottom of the cliffs with upraised sword.

"What now? What now?" he shouted. "Have at you for rank cowards!" and reaching my would-be slayers, he laid on with such a right good will that they turned and fled at headlong speed towards Charmouth.

Hot, breathless, and confused, I staggered from the water, and sinking down upon a rock, sat staring at my rescuer like one bedazed.

He was a sturdy, well-set man, some few years older than myself, with a fine, bold face and manner.

"Why, thou art wounded, friend," said he, pointing with his sword at the blood which trickled slowly from my sleeve.

"Nay, 'tis but a prick," I answered.

"Well, we had best make sure of that," said he, and kneeling down, pulled up my sleeve and found the wound. A small vein had been pierced, but nothing more. Taking a kerchief from his neck, he bound it tightly round the spot, then, rising, said:

"You were hard pressed, methinks."

"Yes, I have fought with five this night," I answered, "and have slain three of them--two here, and one up yonder."

"Good, now, by my life! Most excellent!" cried he. "I dearly love a man who wins to victory against such odds."

"The victory was far from being mine," I answered; "for, had you not thus come in the nick of time, I should most surely have been lying dead beneath the sea by now. You saved my life, sir, and I owe you much."

"Nay, 'twas naught," he murmured, sheathing his sword and gazing out across the moonlit water. "Faith, I scarcely struck a blow; 'twas but a nimbleness in coming down yon cliff-path. But to have killed three men out of five! Ah! that was lovely; that was worth the doing. Yes, by my life, such lusty deeds as those have made Old England what she is, and will, methinks, make her still greater and more feared in years to come."

"Well, well," said I, not wishing to dwell further on my work of death, "and whither go you, pray?"

"To Lyme, to join the Duke."

"Ah! I also go to Lyme, though not to join the Duke; but rather to my bed."

"Good, then by your leave I'll bear you company," said he. "So, when you are ready----"

"And that is now," I answered, rising.

He paused a moment to gaze down upon the two dead men, then off we went together.

"Know you who those coward rascals were?" he asked me as we strode along.

"Some of Duke Monmouth's men," I answered.

He stopped and looked at me, then broke into a laugh.

"What now?" I asked.

"Why, just to think of it," said he, "that I should start my fighting for the Duke's cause by drawing sword against his followers! But, say, why did these fellows thus attack you?"

"Because I stand in no high favour with a man named Robert Ferguson."

"Ah! a canting rogue. I know him well. And so you are not for the Duke?"

"Nay, I am for the King," I answered boldly, having now made up my mind on that point.

Again he laughed in merry fashion.

"Oh, what a mocking whirligig is life!" said he. "Here walk I side by side with one with whom perchance I may cross swords in battle."

"Aye, like enough," I answered grimly; "but, say, why stand you for the Duke?"

"Well, now, it might well be for the same reason that you join King James; but, to tell honest truth, it is because his side doth seem to promise most of fine adventure. I love adventure; I was made for it; and some day I will make my name thereby, though not with sword--with pen."

"Ah! you are a writer, then?"

"Nay, but a sorry scribbler as yet; but, look you, some day I will write a book which shall assuredly set all England tingling in my praise. In short, I will be famous. Mark well those words, and think upon them in the years to come."

"That I will," I answered wonderingly.

Talking of many things, we reached at length the place where he must turn aside into the town, while I, who thought it wisdom to avoid the haunts of men, intended to go home along the shore. There he took my hand, and said:

"I would crave one favour ere we part."

"Aye, twenty, and they are granted if 'tis in my power to do it," I answered warmly.

"Nay, 'tis but a little one," said he. "I would know the name of one who used his sword so well."

"My name is Michael Fane; and may I, too, know that of one who saved my life?"

"Dan Foe--a name unknown at present, but one which, as I told you, shall hereafter be as common and familiar as the King's. And so, friend Fane, good night; and if we meet in battle, may we fight fair and bravely, like true Englishmen!"

With that he grasped my hand again, then turned and sped towards the town.

And thus it was that I met one who, as Defoe (a name he took long afterwards), is known to all of you as the writer of that wondrous history of a shipwrecked man upon a lonely island.[1]

[1] The author of _Robinson Crusoe_ was out in the Monmouth Rebellion joining the Duke at Lyme.

On leaving him I hurried on my way along the silent shore with strangest thoughts for company. Once someone shouted from the cliffs, and, yet again, some fellows hailed me from a boat which lay close inshore; but I heeded not, save to increase my speed, for, truly, my adventures for that night were all-sufficient.

So, in the end, I reached The Havering without mishap, and there, tired out in body and in mind, I sought my bed, and slept like any dog.

*CHAPTER XVII*

*Tells how I had Speech of Ferguson*

Sound sleep works wonders on a healthy body, and so the morning found me mightily refreshed; nor did it trouble me to think that three dead men lay out upon the eastern shore. I had not sought the quarrel, but had only fought for life and liberty; therefore I felt no guiltiness, and let the matter rest: and, truly, there was quite enough to occupy my thoughts in other ways.

I will not dwell upon the saddened doings of that day. Ere noon we laid my father in his grave, high up above the sea--fit resting-place for one who had been born and bred in hearing of its solemn music, and who had ever loved it dearly.

Few people (scarce a dozen) gathered round us in the churchyard; nor was I sorry, for at such times a crowd of staring eyes is little to my liking. A week before it had been vastly different; scores would then have flocked to see the last of him who had been known by everyone. But now the town was rife with rank rebellion. Its people had gone mad with frenzied hopes as vain and empty as a shadow, but which, alas! within a few short weeks were turned into a scourge of death too horrible to contemplate. Yes, verily, Lyme Regis had gone daft in Monmouth's cause. The turmoil of it reached us like a sound of mockery in which we had no part; and, gazing down into the silent grave, I felt that it was well indeed with him who lay therein. And so we left him there, in peace, beside my mother.

That sad business done, the hours dragged by in dreary fashion, for at such times the mourners lag behind to mope and weep, as though 'twere sinful to be brave and cheerful, as though, in fact, there were no hope beyond the tomb. The only time I caught a change--a glint of hopefulness upon their dolorous faces--was at the reading of the will; and even that soon passed, for everything was left to me.

But all things, whether good or evil, have an end, and ere sunset I had waved a glad good-bye unto the last of those my doleful guests, and so was free to dwell in silence on my future plans. And truly there was plenty to be done, and little time in which to do it; for I had resolved to ride forth with the dawn to Exeter, where lay the Royalist army, commanded by the Duke of Albemarle.

I had come suddenly to this decision after that affair upon the shore, though not from any great love of the King's cause; rather had I reached it on account of what, to me, at any rate, seemed three good reasons. First, having once drawn my sword I felt that I must either go on fighting or go daft; secondly, I could no more fight for Monmouth, knowing what I did, than for the Evil One himself; and thirdly, I had a growing hope that I might meet both Ferguson and Tubal Ammon on the battlefield. Truly, I might kill the former while he yet stalked bare-faced in our midst; but that would mean sure death, and life had still some sweetness left for me. As for Ammon, well, it was far from likely that he would show himself in Lyme again. And even if he did, and we were favoured with a meeting, my killing of him would, I felt assured, be just as fatal to me as the slaying of his wicked master.

Thus you will see that I had no desire to draw my sword against my wretched and misguided fellow-countrymen; but to compass the destruction of the two arch-villains who, by their abominable machinations, had thus turned my life into a barren wilderness. 'Twas not a very clear or hopeful plan, I own, but still it was the best that I could frame; and at any rate, it would afford me plenteous room for vigorous action--the thing I needed most of all just then.

Meanwhile, as I have said before, there was a great deal to be done, and very little time in which to do it. First of all I called up Anne, the housekeeper, and Tom, the groom, into the study, and swiftly told them that I was going to leave them for a space, and that The Havering would be in their sole charge till my return. They were amazed, but seeing how firm-set and sharp I was about the business, they swore fidelity and asked no questions. That done, I locked up my father's papers, together with the broken Black Box, in our iron-bound deed-chest, and then bethought me to pay a final visit to the town; partly to learn the latest news concerning Monmouth, and partly (let me freely own it) that I might say farewell to Miriam at the "George". In doing this I ran some risk, but what were risks to one who had already fought, and killed three men?

Thus, when the dusk began to fall, I walked down into Lyme, as bold as brass. My mission to the "George" proved unavailing, for Miriam was not in; and though her father was I did not tarry. He had strong views upon the Monmouth rising (as indeed he had on everything), and would fain have set them out before me at great length, but time was far too precious. So, leaving messages for Miriam, I betook me to the Market Place, and found it full of soldiery and gaping townsfolk.

News had come in that the Dorset militia had marched into Bridport (a town some eight miles east of Lyme), and after hasty counsel with his generals, Monmouth had decided to attack them. As near as I could judge the force drawn up within the market square consisted of about five hundred foot, including fifty musketeers, together with some fourscore or so of horsemen. They were commanded by Lord Grey, and for the most part were trained soldiers who had seen hard fighting in the past.

The bright blue banner floated bravely in the wind, and beneath it sat the Duke on horseback. Just as I arrived upon the scene, he raised his hand; the crowd was hushed to sudden silence; and then, in a few clear, ringing words, he wished his little army God-speed, victory, and a safe return. At that a great shout rent the air; kerchiefs and hats were waved aloft, while on all sides the cry uprose:

"Monmouth! Our Monmouth! Liberty! The Protestant religion!"

It was, indeed, a stirring scene, and as I think upon it now, and see again the Duke, all gracious smiles and bows, deep sadness holds me that the consummation of such zeal and great devotion should have been the hangman's rope--the headsman's axe!

But at the time I had small thought for anything save him who stood a few yards from the Duke, waving his hat, and shouting till his red-blotched face seemed like to burst into a ravening fire. Yes, Ferguson, the plotter, led the loud hosannas with a will; his voice rang high above the rest; and when the cries began to lull 'twas he who started fresh ones. I watched him for a moment, then, scarce knowing why, pressed through the crowd until I stood beside him. Turning my way, he saw me, ceased shouting, put on his hat, and drawing his cloak about him, moved away. Following, I plucked him by the sleeve, and, with a mocking smile, said:

"Good evening to you, Master Ferguson! That plot of yours last night proved somewhat of a failure, did it not?"

The face he turned upon me at those words was such as I shall ne'er forget; if looks could kill a man, I had most surely been dead then, as, with one fierce, hateful glance, and dog-like baring of the teeth, he turned his back upon me. But for all that I had not done with him. Following, I caught him by the sleeve again, and said:

"Stay, one moment, reverend sir, I pray you! Listen, I have at home a sweet memorial of your godliness; to wit, a small black box. And you hold that which lay therein; use such power against me as you will--I care not; but be assured of this, that you and I will meet again, and that I will have vengeance on those black-souled, murderous villains, Tubal Ammon and Elijah Annabat."

He started at that latter name, and so, with one long meaning stare I strode away, and took my stand right opposite the Duke.

From thence I saw friend Ferguson speak hurriedly to four rough, evil-looking men, the while he pointed at me; I saw them nod and rub their chins; I saw them move away. Then someone touched me on the shoulder and a voice said in my ear:

"Fool! Why run this risk? Was not last night enough?"

Turning, I found Dan Foe behind me.

"Ah, you!" said I. "What now?"

"What now!" he echoed sharply. "Why, this. I have seen everything, and they will surely have you by the heels unless you run for it at once."

There seemed to be some truth in that, and I was more than half inclined to act upon his seasonable warning, when a horseman clattered up behind us and forced his way into the crowd, crying:

"Make way! Make way!"

'Twas Fletcher of Saltoun, and the steed he rode was such as made one break the tenth commandment. Indeed, I never saw a finer horse.

The crowd fell back on either side to let him pass, and he was making straight towards the standard, when Old Dare of Taunton stepped out suddenly and seized the bridle.

"How now!" said he. "How came you by that horse?"

"I took it from its stable at the 'George'," replied the other.

"Then know that it is mine, and take it back," rejoined Old Dare with heat.

"Nay, friend," said Fletcher calmly, "you err most grievously; for are not all things common to the Cause? Let go her head, I pray you."

"Nay, but I will not," rejoined the old man stoutly. "No legs save mine have stridden her, nor shall they."

"Ah! there you surely err again," laughed Fletcher, "for are not mine astride her at this very moment?"

That angered Dare beyond endurance; putting forth all his strength he strove to turn the horse, while Fletcher, using rein and bridle, urged it forward. At this Old Dare went clean beside himself with rage; let go a string of oaths and curses terrible to hear; and, when the other mocked him, drew a riding-switch from out his boot and struck him full across the face. 'Twas a cruel, maddening blow, and, in an instant, Fletcher snatched a pistol from his saddle-bow and shot the old man dead.

A moment's gasping silence was followed by a ravening roar of voices, and verily the people would have torn young Fletcher limb from limb (for Dare was much beloved by Western folk) had not the Duke of Monmouth ridden up and saved his life by ordering him aboard the frigate as a prisoner. I did not wait to see the end of it, but, taking advantage of the turmoil, broke out from the crowd and made all speed for home. There I fell to making final preparations for the morrow, and midnight struck before I was abed. Soon after three I was astir again, and ere four was riding on my way to Exeter. The past few days had brought me many strange and perilous adventures; but these were as nothing when compared with those which lay before me in the unknown future. Should you doubt that statement, you have but to follow me to prove its truth.

*CHAPTER XVIII*

*A Timely Warning*

As I rode along amid the old familiar scenes that bright June morning, with the gladsome singing of the birds for company, my thoughts were strange indeed. It seemed as though I had set foot upon the threshold of another life, and that the past--so near and yet so far--had been for ever buried in the grave which held my father. Those days--those happy days--were now as nothing but a darkened memory.

Less than a week before I had been riding on this selfsame road, as blithe and free from care as yonder soaring lark, and now----!

Pulling up, I turned a wistful gaze upon the sunlit sea. The ancient, wave-worn Cobb--strong and immovable in spite of kings and factions--stretched forth its long, curved, weather-beaten arm into the glittering water, as though it would fain gather in to safety those who dared the perils of the deep. Beyond it, straining at their anchors, lay the three ill-fated ships which henceforth would be part of one appalling tale of blood and failure.

A bright blue ensign fluttered gaily from the frigate, whose deck young Fletcher of Saltoun--a few hours back the hope of Monmouth's side--now trod a sorry prisoner, doomed to exile; his talents, hopes, and zeal all scattered to the wind by one mad act of rage.

This brought into my mind Old Dare of Taunton, lying dead there in the town--slain, to no purpose, in a brawl which boys might well have jeered at. Then, as other thoughts of death more ugly and disquieting arose, I moved on slowly--a prey to gloomy memories.

But, after all, I communed with myself, what mattered it? The past was gone; the future, rich in unknown adventures--wherein I had a certain mission--lay like a winding lane before me; while for the rest of it--that is, the present--I was well armed, had a good horse beneath me, lacked not money, and was sound in mind and body. What more was needed? Nothing! Let danger dog my heels at every step--I cared not anything, so long as in the end I might meet Ferguson and Ammon face to face and sword to sword.

Stooping, I patted Kitty's neck, and she, who knew my every mood and touch, broke out into a joyous canter, and away we flew along the springing turf which fringed the road. 'Twas all so like old times to be thus rushing through the cool, refreshing air, that for the moment everything seemed banished from my mind.

We had gone thus a mile or so, and I was vaguely thinking that, in spite of all, 'twas fine to be alive, when suddenly the sound of other horse-feet at a gallop reached me from behind. Someone was following us in furious haste, and by his speed he rode upon no common errand.

Remembering what peril I had already gone through, and how little loved I was by certain folk in Lyme, I pulled my mare in, and drawing up behind a thorn bush, sat there listening, the while I peeped forth cautiously in the direction of the thundering hoofs.

Soon round a distant bending of the road a steel-clad horseman shot to view, a very Jehu of a fellow, riding furiously.

Who could it be that thus betimes wore out good horse-flesh, and what might be the nature of his breakneck business? A Monmouth man, perhaps! I knew not--but, as things stood, it seemed to me to be prepared for anything was everything. Therefore I drew a pistol from my saddle, and, having cocked it, sat there ready to be friend or foe.

On, with loose reins and head bent low, the horseman rushed towards us, and judging by his speed would certainly have passed me by unnoticed; but just as he came close, Kitty must needs prick up her ears and give a loud, shrill neigh. At that the rider pulled his lathered steed up with a suddenness that wellnigh shot him from the saddle, and there, red-faced, open-mouthed and panting, sat John Coram, staring at me like a man bedaft.

"Th--h--ank H--ea--ven!" he gasped.

"Yes, truly, for you might have broke your neck by pulling up thus sharply," I replied, and could not keep from smiling.

"Nay--friend--'tis naught--to--jest upon," quoth he severely. "Faith!--but--I--I fairly boil within."

"Then pause and rest awhile," said I.

"I must," quoth he.

Unbuckling his head-piece he hung it on his arm, and verily his breath roared from him like a blacksmith's forge. Thus bared, and with the sunlight shining on his great bald pate, he looked so fat and peaceful--so unwarlike--that I was sorely put to it to save myself from laughing.

"Friend," said he at last, "I count the whinnying of that mare of thine a mercy; but for it I might well have passed thee by."

"True," I agreed; "but, say, what brings you after me in such a headlong fashion?"

John Coram fastened on his head-piece with all the care of some old dame a-tying on her cap, looked up and down the lane, then drawing closer, said:

"Because thou art in peril, friend."

"Ah! and from whom?" I asked, stroking my mare's neck carelessly, for indeed I had got used to peril.

Again John Coram glanced about him, this time taking in the trees as well, as though they might hold danger; then he drew still closer, and, in a low voice, answered:

"Israel Stark!"

At that I started somewhat, for, as you are aware, he named no ordinary open foe, but rather one who lurked in secret places privily to murder. Therefore I paused a moment, looking hard into the steel-framed face before me ere I murmured:

"Ah! so Tubal Ammon is abroad, eh?"

"Yea, and that somewhere on this very road," replied John Coram in a fearful whisper.

'Twas now my turn to glance around and scan the trees, especially a thick-leaved oak just opposite.

"How know you this?" I asked at last.

"Why, in this fashion," answered Coram. "As I stood on guard last night a mile or so from here, I heard sly, slinking footsteps coming from the shadow of a wood. 'Who goes there?' I cried, and someone gave the password of the night."

"Zion!" I put in with a smile, remembering how well the word had served me also. John Coram started.

"Yea, verily," said he; "but--but how came you by it?"

"Why, man," I laughed, "you gave it me last evening at the 'George'!"

"Now, by my life," he muttered, "I have a dim remembrance that 'twas so, though verily my pate was somewhat addled with--Hum! where was I? Ah! as I was saying, that fellow gave the word and so I let him pass. Off he went, a long-cloaked thing of black, into the darkness. But when he was some half-score yards beyond me he turned his face, the moonlight caught it, and I knew it instantly for Israel Stark's."

"Ah! and what did you then?" I put in eagerly.

"Did!" echoed Coram, spreading out his hands. "Friend, I did naught, and shame on me for it. So struck was I that I could neither draw a pistol nor pursue. I stood as stiff as any post, and watched the varlet fly. And fly he did; for, look you, he had known me also by that glance, and so sped off into the darkness like some spirit. The Evil One himself could not have vanished swifter. Heavens, friend! it makes me go quite chilly just to think on't!"

"'Twas a fine chance lost," I murmured ruefully; then, as another view of it came into mind, I added: "and yet it gives me cause for gratitude, for had you killed him you had robbed me of a pleasure."

But Coram shook his head.

"Ah, but all danger had been ended then," said he.

"How long was this ago?" I asked.

"About two hours; 'twas just before the dawn."

I paused a moment. Had Ammon once again been spying on me, and thus got wind of my intentions?

"Art certain that he came this way?" I asked.

"Aye, verily, I am. Would that I were not, for who knows where so sly a villain may be hiding, ready to work mischief on thee?"

Here we both glanced uneasily around. Truly this had a far from pleasing look. The lane was narrow, and bordered thick with trees and bushes--Thrusting such ugly thoughts aside, I asked another question:

"But how came you to know my whereabouts?"

"Why, in this wise: no sooner was I free than I went unto your house, The Havering, in order to report this matter. There I found that you had ridden forth for Exeter. So borrowed I a horse and rode amain."

"Thou art a right good friend, John Coram, and have well earned what I promised thee."

Bringing forth my pouch, I would have given him the money, but----

"No," said he, "I came not out to seek reward," and verily his honest face upheld the statement. "I came to warn thee, save thee from a peril, and having done so I am mightily content; while if you slay this fellow my reward is great indeed."

"Be sure my best endeavour shall go to that end," said I: "but still, a bargain is a bargain. Therefore, I pray you, take this money."

At first he would not; but after much pressing I contrived to give him two gold pieces, for the which his thanks were fervid.