"How do you know?"

"And if there were they wouldn't bite at this time of day."

"You mind your own business," cried Lance excitedly. "It's a thumping
big one, and he isn't awake yet to his being hooked. He's coming, and
he'll begin to make a rush directly to get in his hole. You begin
rowing, and get him right out away from the rocks."

Hezz did as he was told, but only made two or three strokes and then
stopped, for his companion had to give line.

"Slower," said Lance, panting, as he held on again. "Wait till he makes
a rush. I say, did you bring the big gaff hook?"

"No; but that line'll hold any conger you can catch, and I've got the
little chopper in the locker when he comes on board. But that isn't a
conger."

"'Tis, I tell you. I can feel him trying to get back.--What is it,
then?"

"Weed," croaked Hezz in his deep bass.

"You're a weed! It's a big conger, and he has got his tail round a rock
or in a hole."

"Let him go, then."

"What? Why he'd shuffle back into his hole, and I should lose him. Wait
till he gets a bit tired and gives way a bit."

"Let go, and if it's a conger he'll slack the line and come swimming up
to see what's the matter. But you've only hooked a weed."

"Ha! ha!" laughed Lance. "You're a clever one, Hezz. Look, he's coming
up quite steady;" and the boy drew in a couple of yards of line.

"It arn't a conger, or he'd begin to cut about now and shake his head to
get riddy of the hook."

"Then it's some other big fish. Think it's a shark."

"No. What would a shark be doing there?"

"I dunno; but he's coming up. I say, put down the oars."

Hezz nodded, laid in his oars, and stood close behind his companion,
gradually growing as excited for a minute or so, and then grinning.

"It arn't no fish," he said.

"It is, I tell you," cried Lance, as he kept up a steady haul, the boat
having yielded till it was exactly over the line.

"I never see a fish take it so quiet as that," continued Hezz.

"It's only till he sees us, and then he'll make a desperate rush to get
away."

"I'll be ready for him," said Hezz, laughing softly, as he gently rested
the handle of the boat-hook on the side, thrusting it out towards the
tightened line, which still came slowly in, though the strain threatened
to make it part. "Hope it will be good to eat, Master Lance."

"I know what it is," cried the boy, in a low hoarse voice. "It's one of
those great cuttles, the same as were washed on shore after last year's
storm. It will come up all of a lump, with its feelers and suckers
twisted round the line."

A sudden change came over Hezz. Instead of grinning, his face turned
preternaturally solemn, and taking his right hand from the boat-hook he
thrust it into his pocket, drew out a big jack-knife, to open it by
seizing the blade in his teeth.

"That's right," whispered Lance, husky now with the excitement; "but
don't use the knife if you can get a good hold with the hook. Look,
look, here it comes! Oh, it is a monster!"

[Illustration: "A vigorous cut divided the fishing-line."]

The boy had been steadily hauling till he had brought his capture nearly
to the surface, and he now caught sight of what seemed to be its curved
and rounded body.

"Now, Hezz--quick! down with the hook. Get a good hold at once. Snatch,
lad, snatch!"

But at the crucial moment, when the dark back of the monster slowly
rolled up to the surface, Hezz dropped the boat-hook, leaned over the
side, hindering his companion's view, and plunged his knife-armed hand
down under water.

The next moment there was a slight jar which ran from Lance's fingers
right up his arms, the tension ceased, and a yard or two of the stout
fishing-line flew up in the holder's face.

For, as if to save his companion from some danger, Hezz had reached down
as low as he could, and with a vigorous cut divided the fishing-line, so
that the dark round body sank down again like a shadow, leaving the two
lads gazing fiercely at each other.

"Oh, I say!" cried Lance. "Only to think of that! Why, Hezz, it's----"

"Never you mind what it is," said the boy roughly.

"And you knew it was, then?"

"Swears I didn't," said the boy fiercely. "Think I should have let you
fish there if I had knowed?"

"Why, there must have been a whole string of 'em tied together on a line
and sunk there."

"You don't know nothing of the sort," growled Hezz. "You didn't see."

"I saw one; and another coming like a shadow."

"No, you didn't."

"Yes, I did--brandy kegs--smuggled. Here, I'll hail the cutter."

"No, you don't," said Hezz fiercely; and as he stood with the knife in
his hand he looked threatening. "They couldn't hear you if you did."

"Then I'll make signals."

"No, you won't. I shan't let you, and you wouldn't be such a sneak,
Master Lance."

"It isn't the act of a sneak."

"Yes, it is. Your cousin would, but you wouldn't get poor men into
trouble."

That hit hard, and Lance hesitated.

"Why, it must be your father's and your brother's doing. And just under
our noses too! Oh, what a disgraceful shame! There, Hezz, I've done with
you."

"I didn't know about it, Master Lance."

"You must have known."

"Wish I may die if I did. There!"

"Take the oars, Hezz," said Lance coldly.

"But, Master Lance----?"

"Take the oars," said Lance sternly. "I want to go home."

"To tell Squire Penwith what you've seen? O Master Lance! you don't know
what you're going to do."

"No," said Lance sternly, as the lad took the oars and began to row
back, "I don't."

"You make me feel as if I'd sooner kill you than you should do this. It
means having my poor father took up and sent out of the country, and
p'raps he didn't know the kegs was hid like that."

"Go on rowing, I tell you," cried Lance sharply, "make haste. Pull! do
you hear? Pull!"

Hezz uttered a low sound something like a gulp, and dragged away at the
oars with all his might till he ran the boat on to the sands, where
Lance was perfectly aware, though he would not look up, that the four
big fishermen were still leaning over the rail and looking out to sea,
and he expected to hear a cheery question as to sport as he hurried up
over the sands and began to climb the zigzag.

But no hail came, for the men's eyes were bent upon the revenue cutter,
a mile away, watching every movement of that and the _chasse-marée_.

At least so thought Lance Penwith as he hurried home, pondering upon his
cousin's words, and asking himself whether he was not doing wrong by
associating with these fisher-folk on the cliff.

"I must tell father," he said to himself. "I ought to tell him," he
said; and then he began thinking of what it meant, the severe punishment
of pretty well every man in the cluster of cottages, some being sent to
prison, the younger men to serve in King George's men-of-war; and ever
since he could remember, they had all been to him the kindest friends.

CHAPTER II

"I can't help it," said Lance to himself, after a weary sleepless night;
"I don't feel as if I could go and tell tales. I'm not sure; and if I
was wrong, and these men were punished for what they did not do, I
should never be happy again."

Lance had made up his mind that he would have no more to do with the
people down by the cliff, for he felt now that they were not honest. But
there was a bitter feeling of disappointment in coming to this resolve;
for it had been so pleasant to get away from the refinements of home
with its choice cookery, plate, glass, and fine linen, to the boisterous
welcome he always had at Old Poltree's neat cottage. How delicious the
baked hake was, and how luscious the conger pie!--though they were as
nothing to the split and grilled fish he caught himself; and Hezz's
mother was always ready to cook for the two boys.

And now it was all over; but still he might go and climb to the steep
edge, from whence he could look down on the whitewashed cottages, the
busy harbour, and the boats.

This he did, and grew quite excited as he saw that the revenue cutter
was lying off the point, a couple of miles out, as if watching the
place.

"Poor old Hezz!" he said to himself bitterly, "I hope they will not take
him."

Then incongruously enough he smiled as he thought of the boy's breaking
voice.

They'd laugh at him if they heard him croak and squeak as he does now,
and perhaps let him off because he's only a boy. But it would be
horrible for the other men.

"Why, father's a magistrate too," said the lad suddenly, "and he'd be
with the others who punished them for smuggling if it was found out. Oh,
I can't go and tell what I know! It would be horrid."

Lance lay there upon the warm cliff for some time thinking, and then he
started and looked down, wondering at what was to him quite a marvel.
For there, moving slowly, about a hundred feet below him, was his
cousin, threading his way amongst the masses of granite tangled with
brambles, in a part where there was no path, nothing more than a faint
track or two made by the grazing sheep, and it seemed unaccountable.

"What's he doing there?" muttered Lance. "He must be looking for me.
Well, let him look. I don't want him. If I shout to him he'll only come
and begin to preach at me in his pompous way. When I'm in a good temper
it only makes me laugh; but I'm in a bad temper now, and if he begins I
shall feel as if I must punch his head."

So Lance lay and watched, making unpleasant remarks the while, all of a
derisive nature. He watched till Alfred had disappeared beyond the chaos
of rocks which had fallen from above, and at last he strolled back home,
forgetting all about his cousin till he took his place at the
luncheon-table, and felt surprised to see him there, looking quite cool
and as if he had passed the morning reading in the shade.

There was another surprise for Lance before he left the table, the
squire letting fall the announcement that Captain Barry was going to
dine there at six o'clock that evening.

"So you boys will have to put on your best manners."

"Who's Captain Barry, father?"

"To speak correctly, he is Lieutenant Barry, my boy, and is in command
of the revenue cutter lying on and off. They are giving us all a good
hunt up, for he tells me that there has been a great deal of smuggling
carried on along this coast; but I told him the only smuggling about
here is the smuggling of fish."

Lance felt that the tips of his ears turned hot, and thought that they
must be red. He knew that this was the opportunity for telling all he
had found out, but somehow the words would not come.

The officer was rowed ashore from the cutter that evening, and the
squire had walked down to the tiny harbour, with the two boys, to meet
him, and find him a frank, pleasant, middle-aged man, who, for some
reason, had never been promoted.

He shook hands, and Lance turned scarlet, and then glanced shoreward, to
see that Hezz was busy turning the clumsy boat half inside the cavern,
and that the big trousers and boots were up on the shelf, while the men
inside them seemed to be gazing out to sea in search of a coming shoal.

The officer was very pleasant and frank during his stay. He chatted with
the boys and asked them if they would like to go to sea; but somehow he
found Lance dull and glum, and the boy's father bantered him that night
after the visitor had gone back to the cutter.

A week had glided by, and fishing was in full progress below the cliff.
Hezz and his people had enclosed a small shoal of mackerel in their
seine, and at another time Lance would have been in the thick of the
business, revelling in seeing the line of corks drawn in closer and
closer till the shoal was dashing about seeking for a way of escape,
before the tuck net was brought to bear, and the arrowy wave and
ripple-marked fish were ladled out in baskets.

Lance had watched the movements of the cutter anxiously while she stayed
off the point; but one fine day she had glided away west with all sail
set to the light breeze, and the boy breathed more freely.

Then the days passed and nothing seemed to happen, except that when
Lance went along the high cliffs, climbing from place to place till he
settled himself down in some snug rift where he could scan the sea and
note what was going on in the cove below, to see if there was any sign
of smuggling, he found that his cousin came cautiously along no less
than three times, and the boy laughed to himself from his hiding-place.

"He's watching me to see if I go down and join Hezz. How can any one be
such a sneak?"

Lance often mused after this fashion as the days slipped by; but he kept
away from the people down by the cliff, in spite of a wistful look or
two he caught from Hezz, who came up to the house several times to sell
fish.

"No," Lance said firmly, "I haven't told tales; but I won't have
anything to do with smugglers."

One fine afternoon soon after dinner Lance saw his cousin go into the
study and take down a book, rest his head on his hands, and begin to
read.

Lance had followed him to propose that they should go inland and have a
ramble in the woods, but his cousin's action checked him.

"It's of no use," he said; "he wouldn't come."

So the lad went off till he reached one of his favourite look-outs, just
by a rift overgrown with brambles, where, when the tide was up, the
whispering and washing of water could be heard, showing that one of the
many caverns and cracks along the bold coast ran in a great way.

"Wish I knew which of them belonged to this," he had more than once
said; and upon this particular occasion as he seated himself he began
listening to the strange whispering sounds.

"I meant to have tried to find this out," he said, "along with Hezz.
Why, I did say something about it once, and he only laughed and said it
was a land-spring. Well, I can't get the boat now."

Somehow the place had a strange fascination for him that day, and after
looking about a bit he picked up a piece of mossy granite as big as his
head and pitched it among the bramble growth and ferns just where the
whispering washing sound could be faintly heard.

To his surprise there was the fluttering of wings, and a jackdaw flew
out and away.

"Nest there," he muttered; but his thoughts were divided by hearing the
stone he had pitched down strike heavily, sending up a hollow sound; and
directly after it struck again more loudly, and all was still.

He was in the act of rising to examine the spot, but he sank down
directly, ducking his head behind a great tuft of ragwort.

"Well, he is a sneak," he muttered.

He sat close, and Alfred passed about twenty yards below, going on
cautiously away to the right, and passing out of sight.

Lance sighed, rose, and looked away to the west; but there was no sign
of his cousin, so he walked back home.

The night came on soft and calm, and after sitting reading a bit, and
going over some translation ready for the vicar next day, Lance looked
up, to see that he was alone, so putting away his books he strolled out
on to the big sloping lawn to where he could see the sea; but it looked
quite dark and forbidding, and the stars were half hidden by a haze.
Still it was very pleasant out there, and after a time he turned to look
back at the house with its light or two in the windows of the
ground-floor, while everything else looked black, till all at once a
little window high up in the centre gable of the old Elizabethan place
shone out brightly with a keen steady bluish light which lasted while he
could have counted twenty, and then all was blacker than ever.

"Why, it's a firework," said Lance to himself. "It must be Alf."

He had hardly thought this when the light shone out again, burned
brightly for a time, and once more went out, leaving the boy wondering,
till it once again blazed out sharply, and left all blacker than ever.

Lance's mind was just as black and dark, for he could make nothing of
it. Alfred was not likely to be letting off fireworks. What could it
mean?

Coming to the conclusion that his cousin had been amusing himself in
some way or another connected with chemistry, he stood thinking for a
minute and then went in, to find the object of his thoughts sitting by
his aunt's side talking quietly, while the squire seemed engrossed in a
book.

"Well, perhaps you had better," said Mrs. Penwith. "There's nothing like
bed for a bad sick headache."

The boy sighed, said good-night, and went up to his room.

"He had too long a walk to-day," said Mrs. Penwith, "and the sun upset
him. By the way, Lance, your cousin complains about your being given to
avoiding him. Do, pray, put aside all sulkiness and be more brotherly."

"Why, it is Alf, mother, who never will come out with me."

"There, there, say no more about it," said Mrs. Penwith gently. "You
know I wish you to be brotherly, so do try."

Lance felt too much aggrieved to say anything, and sat in moody silence
till it was bed-time, when he said "good-night" and went to his own
room, thinking the while about those lights.

There he lay, thinking and listening for above an hour, during which he
heard the various sounds in the house of the servants shutting up and
going to bed, and soon after his father and mother's room door closed,
and he settled down to go to sleep.

He might as well have settled down to keep awake, for he turned and
twisted, and got out of bed to drink water, and got in again. Then he
turned the pillow and tried that. Next he threw off the quilt because he
was too hot. And so on, and so on, till he sat up to try and face the
question which haunted his brain: What did those lights in the little
upper window mean?

"It's of no use," said the boy at last. "I shall never go to sleep till
I know." He sprang out of bed and dressed himself, and then stood
thinking. Did he dare go up in the dark to that little room in the roof
and see whether he could find out anything?

Yes; and while the exaltation of brain was upon him, he softly opened
his door, went out into the broad passage, and along it to the end where
the little oak staircase led up to the three attic-like places in the
three gables, rooms that were only used for lumber and stores.

The boy's heart beat heavily as he went up in his stockings, and twice
over when a board cracked he was ready to rush back to his room; but
he forced himself into going on, and stood at last at the centre door of
the three, feeling that if he hesitated now he should never do it.

[Illustration: "A signal! came the next moment in answer."]

So pushing the door it yielded, and he nearly darted back, for there was
a peculiar sulphury smell in the dark room.

But Lance had made fireworks in his time, especially blue lights, and
the smell was just the same as that, and he no longer felt scared, for
the thought flashed across his brain that some one had burned some
pieces of blue light there, and if such were the case there would be
something on the window-sill on which they had been burned.

He stepped boldly in, and there, sure enough, he found what he
expected--a little piece of sheet-iron about half the size of a slate.

But what for?

_A signal_! came the next moment in answer; and wildly excited now, he
stepped back across the room, descended the stairs and went to the door
of his cousin's chamber, tried the door softly, found it yield, and
entered.

The bed was empty, and quite cold.

CHAPTER IV

A few moments elapsed, and then it was Lance who had turned quite cold.
For his brain was wonderfully active now, as he seemed to grasp as facts
that his cousin had not been watching him on the cliff, but had found
out something about the smugglers and was watching them. Then, too, he
recalled how friendly he had been with the captain of the revenue
cutter, and how they had talked together.

This, then, was the meaning of the signal: Alf had found out
something--of course; a long low _chasse-marée_ had been lying off that
day, he recalled, and the signal lights had been meant for the cutter,
which must have crept in at dusk, and for aught he knew the King's men
might be landing, in answer to the signals, to catch the fishermen and
smugglers in the very act of landing a cargo.

Right or wrong, Lance paused to think no more. It was a time to act and
try and warn his old friends. How could Alf be such a sneak?

Quickly and silently he stepped out and back to his own room, put on his
boots, opened the window and lowered himself down the heavy trellis,
reached the lawn, and ran to get to the zigzag and reach Old Poltree's
cottage on the ledge.

"I'll tell Hezz," he said to himself--"just say the King's men are out,
and then get back."

It is easier to make plans than to carry them out.

When Lance reached the long whitewashed cottage, meaning to knock till
Hezz came to his window, he was caught by a strong hand, wrenched round,
and a hoarse voice said in a whisper--

"Who's this?"

"I--Lance, Mother Poltree. I came to tell you I'm afraid the King's men
are coming to-night."

"Whish!" she said, as she clapped another great hand over his mouth.
"Who told tales--you?"

"No, no, I wouldn't."

"Whish! they're coming," she cried, as she stood listening. "They came
after you."

"I--I didn't know," whispered Lance, as he made out steps descending the
zigzag, showing that he was only just in time, for whoever it was had
been close behind.

"This way," said the old woman sternly, and all thought of retreat was
cut off, for she held the boy's arm firmly and hurried him to the end of
the cottage and across the patch of garden.

[Illustration: "For there below him, lit up by a few lanterns, he could
make out the hull of a great lugger."]

The way was new to Lance, and thoroughly excited now, he allowed the
sturdy old woman to half guide, half thrust him along, till the way was
so narrow along the steep cliff slope that at her bidding he went on
first, with the consequence that more than once he lost his footing, and
would have fallen from the narrow track but for the help he received.

At one time they were ascending as if to climb to the cliff top, then
down, and up again, till at the end of a few hundred yards a rift was
reached, down which the old woman hurried the lad, uttering a peculiar
hissing sound the while, which quite changed the aspect of the scene
which had unfolded itself to Lance's astonished gaze. For there below
him, lit up by a few lanterns, he could make out the hull of a great
lugger, lying in the jaws of the rift down which they were hurrying,
while men were wading waist-deep to and fro--those going out to the
lugger's side empty-handed, these coming bearing bales and kegs, which
they carried to a low rocky archway, so low that it must have been
covered when the tide was up, while now they stooped and passed in their
loads to other hands, which seized them and bore them away.

At the warning hiss uttered by the old fisherwoman the work ceased, and
as a man, evidently the captain, swung himself down into the water, Old
Poltree, his sons, and another man crept out from beneath the rugged
archway.

Few words were spoken. The captain of the lugger gave an order or two,
splashed through the water with his men, and climbed on board, where the
lanterns were extinguished, hitchers and sweeps thrust forth on either
side, and the English fishermen waded out to put their shoulders to the
stern of the boat and help to thrust her out into the open water.

Their help did not last, for the water deepened rapidly and the great
lugger was well on the move, and unless the boats of the revenue cutter
were waiting for them her safety was assured. The danger was from the
shore for those who had been breaking the laws.

"This your doing, young gen'leman?" growled Old Poltree fiercely,
approaching Lance.

"No!" cried the boy eagerly.

"Nay, no lies, my lad. The French skipper saw three lights, and he
thought it was our doing. You did it to bring 'em on."

"Indeed, no!" cried Lance. "I saw them too, and as soon as I guessed
what it meant I ran down to warn you; didn't I, Mother Poltree?"

"Iss, my son.--You're wrong, old man, it was t'other youngster. I told
you he was after no good."

"Then it warn't you, Master Lance?" squeaked a voice. "Hooroar!"

"You hold your row, Hezzerer," growled his father; and then quickly,
"Look, they've found the way down. Someun's showing 'em with a light."

His gruff voice was evidently heard, for from where the dull yellow
light of a horn lantern shone at the top of the gash in the massive
cliff a stern voice shouted--

"Surrender, in the King's name, or we fire."

"Fire away, then," muttered Old Poltree. "Tide'll be up soon. In with
you, my lads. In with you, missus, for you can't get back now."

"Come along, Master Lance," whispered Hezz, who had crept close to his
old companion.

"No, no!" cried Lance, aghast. "I'm not coming with you; I must go
back."

"Nay, my son; you can't now," growled Old Poltree. "In with you;" and he
dragged the boy down into the water and gave him a thrust, while as
Lance indignantly raised his head again to rush back, he saw by the
light of a single lantern held by one of the men that he was in a
spacious water-floored cavern which evidently extended for some
distance; but what interested him most in his awkward position was the
sight of the big old man on one side of the exit, his eldest son on the
other, each armed with a piece of broken oar, ready to defend the
natural door against all comers.

"Right away with that light," growled the old man, and its bearer
splashed through the water farther and farther away.

"Come on, Master Lance," whispered Hezz, catching him by the arm.

"Let go," cried the boy angrily. "I will not be taken with you."

"Nay, you shan't be, young Master Lance," whispered the old woman. "My
Hezz'll show you the way out, while my old man keeps the sailors back
till the tide's up and they can't get in."

"Yes, that's right, Master Lance," whispered Hezz, and the boy
unwillingly followed the lantern-bearer till at the end of a hundred
yards the water had ceased and they were walking over the dry rocky
bottom of the rapidly-contracting cave, where Lance noticed that a heap
of casks and bales had been hurriedly piled up.

And now from behind him there came the shouts of men and the noise of
heavy blows and splashing; but neither of those with him seemed in the
least disturbed, Hezz even chuckling and saying--

"It's all right, old mother; father won't let no one pass. I say, we
shall have to haul you up."

"'Fraid so, my son," said the old woman. "I'm too heavy to clamber now."

A wild feeling of excitement pervaded Lance all this time, mingled with
indignation at what he mentally called his cousin's treachery. But he
felt better at the thought that he was to escape, for the idea of being
captured with the smugglers was horrible.

And now his attention was taken up by the movements of Hezz, who, while
the man held the lantern up, took a coil of rope from where it rested on
a big stone, thrust his head and one arm through it, and began to climb
up a rugged narrow crack at the end of the cavern--climbing as if he had
been up there before, and soon disappearing from their view.

But they could hear him plainly enough, his boots grating on the rock,
and his heavy breathing coming whispering down for some minutes before
all was still, but only for the silence to be broken by a curious
rustling sound, and Lance caught sight of the rope uncoiling as it fell.

"Up with you," said the man with the lantern, and Old Poltree's second
son seized the rope, and by its help climbed up in much less time than
his brother; while Lance longed for his turn to come that he might hurry
away, but felt an unwillingness to go before the woman with them was
saved.

"Come on," was whispered, and the other man gave the lantern to Mother
Poltree, while the shouting and splashing at the cavern entrance grew
fainter.

In a very short time there was another summons from above, but at this
moment they were joined by big Billy Poltree.

"All right, mother," he said. "Mouth's pretty well covered. I'll go
next, so as to help pull you up. They can't get in now."

The man seized the rope, and as he disappeared in the dark crack Lance
thought of the consequences if the King's men came now and seized them,
so that he started round guiltily when he heard a sound behind him; but
it was only the old fisherman.

"Hullo, young squire," he said; "not gone? Well, I'll go next, and then
I can help with you both."

With a display of agility that was wonderful in so old and heavy a man,
he directly after seized the rope and climbed up, leaving Lance with
the old woman, who stood silently holding the lantern and gazing back.

"Tide's right over the mouth now," she said.

"Is it?" replied Lance; and anxiously, "Pray tell them all, Mother
Poltree, that I didn't betray them. I wouldn't do such a thing."

"Needn't tell 'em, my son," said the old woman. "No one would believe it
of you. But it's a bad job for us if they catch my folk. It means
sending 'em across the seas. Now, then, up with you, quick; and then
I'll dowse the light."

"No, you first," said Lance.

"Nay, my son, you. Don't waste time. They ought to be making for the
moors by now."

Lance seized the rope and climbed actively, finding plenty of foothold,
and soon after reaching the open air in the spot which he felt sure was
where he had heard the splashing and thrown down the stone.

"Now quick, boys," whispered Old Poltree. "She's got the rope fast round
her I can feel. Haul steady; give her time; and then we must make for
the hills. They won't hurt the women."

"Quick! this way; I can hear them," cried a familiar voice out of the
darkness, and from two ways there was a rush of footsteps and a
scrambling sound.

Lance made a dart to dash away, but some one flung his arms about him,
lifted him from the ground, and rolled with him over and over amongst
the furze and brambles.

"Keep still," whispered a voice in his ear; and he lay quiet, for it was
Hezz listening to the sounds of struggling and pursuit till they died
away, and then he rose.

"Don't say naught to me, Master Lance--I'm too bad; but you keep close
to me and I'll show you how to get back to the big house without the
King's men ketching of you. Quick! here's one of 'em."

This on hearing a hoarse panting, but a voice whispered--

"Hezz!"

"You, mother! Got up?"

"Yes, my son, with all the skin off my hands. Have they got away?"

"I think so, mother. What are you going to do?"

"Get home to tell the girls. And you?"

"See Master Lance safe, and then get hid somewheres till they're all
gone. I shall be all right, and they won't hurt you. Come on, Master
Lance."

No more was said, Lance having his work to do in climbing after his
companion, who led him by what by daylight he would have considered to
be an impossible path; but it ended at the stone wall which bordered the
cliff part of the home grounds, and when he began to thank his companion
he was gone, only a faint rustling as of a rabbit telling of which way.

Ten minutes later Lance had climbed back to his bedroom window, closed
it, and after regaining his breath he stole out into the passage to make
his way to his cousin's room.

But all was silent there. Alf had not returned.

Lance crept back to his own bedroom, undressed, and lay down to listen
for his cousin's return, undecided as to what he should do.

Nature decided it for him, sending him off fast asleep, wearied out by
his exertions; but before dawn his door was opened and a light step
crossed the floor and paused by his bedside, a low ejaculation as of
astonishment being heard, and then the steps were directed to the door,
which was softly closed.

CHAPTER V

Lance made his appearance at breakfast the next morning rather late, and
as he entered the room, wondering whether his father knew of the events
of the night, he saw at a glance that everything had come out, for the
squire was speaking angrily to Alfred, who stood before him with his
face cut and scratched, and a great piece of sticking-plaister across
one hand.

[Illustration: "Oh," he cried, "there you are, sir!"]

"You may have considered it your duty, sir, still I think it was very
dishonourable of Captain Barry to make use of you as his spy without a
word to me; but of course he would know that I should not countenance
such a thing. It is quite time you went away from home, sir; so prepare
yourself, and you will go to one of the big grammar schools as soon as
you can make arrangements. That will do, sir: I do not want to hear
another word. I am a magistrate, and I want to uphold the law, but all
this business seems to me cowardly and bad.--Oh," he cried, "there you
are, sir!"

"Yes, father," said Lance, drawing a deep breath.

"You know, I suppose, that the King's men have found a nest of smugglers
here, under my very nose?"

"Yes, father."

"And you were in bed all night, of course?"

"No, father. I found out by accident that Alf was going to betray them."

"Betray, eh? And pray how?"

"He burnt blue lights at the top window as a signal to bring the French
lugger ashore."

"Indeed! Worse and worse," cried the squire angrily. "And you, sir--pray
what did you do?"

"Went and told Old Poltree and his lads to look out."

"You did, eh?"

"Yes, father."

"And pray why?"

"Because, father," said the boy boldly, "I thought it was such a shame."

"You hear this, my dear?" said the squire, turning to Mrs. Penwith.

"Yes, love," said that lady, looking at her son with tearful eyes.

"And I am a magistrate, and my son behaves like this! 'Pon my word, this
is supporting the law with a vengeance. But here's breakfast. I'll think
about it, and see what I ought to do."

But the squire was so taken up with a visit from the commander of the
cutter, which had made its appearance off the point that morning, and
going down and seeing the clearing out of the cave, in which there was a
grand haul for the sailors, that he apparently forgot to speak to his
son. He had no prisoners brought before him, for the smugglers had all
escaped; and when Mrs. Penwith told him with a troubled face that their
two boys had met at the bottom of the garden, quarrelled, and fought
terribly, he only said--

"Which whipped?"

"Lance, my dear. Alfred is terribly knocked about."

"Oh," said the squire, and that was all.

A month passed away before Hezz was seen back at the cottage, and oddly
enough that was the very day on which Alfred said good-bye to the place
and was driven off with his box, his cousin going with him to the cross
roads six miles away, where he was to meet the Plymouth waggon; and it
was on Lance's return that he strolled to the cliff to look down at the
cottage, and saw Hezz below on the sands once more tarring his boat.

CHAPTER VI

The cliff and the little harbour beneath looked as beautiful as ever;
but there was an element of sadness about the place whenever Lance went
down to see Hezz, for he was pretty sure to encounter one or other of
the sad-faced women busy in some way or another.

There was no playtime for Hezz, whose big, open, boyish face had grown
old and anxious-looking; but he always had a smile and a look of welcome
for Lance whenever he went down, and rushed off to get the boat ready
for a fishing trip somewhere or another.

But these were not pleasure excursions, for as soon as the boat was
pushed off the two lads tugged at the oars or set the sail to run off to
some well-known fishing ground, where they worked away in a grim earnest
way to get together a good maund of fish, a part of which was always
sold up at the "big house," and at a good price too.

As for the women, they worked hard in their patches of garden, or went
out in couples to bait and lay the lobster pots, or set the trammel
nets, sometimes successfully, more often to come back empty; but somehow
they managed to live and toil on patiently with a kind of hopeful
feeling that one day things would mend.

"Ever see any of the French smugglers now, Hezz?" said Lance to him one
day.

The boy's eyes flashed, and he knit his brows.

"No," he said, in a deep growl, for there had been no squeak in his
voice since the night of the fight; the last boyish sound broke right
away in that struggle, and he seemed to have suddenly developed into a
man. "No," he said, "nor don't want to. If it hadn't been for them the
old man and Billy and t'others would ha' been at home, 'stead o'
wandering the wide world over."

"Have you any idea where they are, Hezz?"

The lad looked at him fiercely.

"Want to get 'em took?" he growled.

"Of course," said Lance, smiling. "Just the sort of thing I should do."

"Well, I didn't know," said Hezz.

"Yes, you did," cried Lance. "Want me to kick you for telling a lie?"

"Well, you're a young gent, and young gents do such things. Look at your
cousin."

"Now, just you apologise for what you said, or I'll pitch into you,
Hezz," cried Lance. "Now then: is that the sort of thing I should do if
I knew where the old man and the rest were?"

"No," said Hezz, grinning, "not you."

"Then just you apologise at once."

"Beg your pardon, grant your grace, wish I may die if I do so any more.
That do?"

"Yes, that'll do. Now tell me where they are, just to show me you do
trust me."

"Tell you in a minute, Master Lance," cried the lad earnestly, "but I
don't know a bit. We did hear from a Falmouth boat as some un' had sin
'em up Middlesbro' way after the herrin'; but that's all, and p'raps
they're all drownded. I say, I'll tell you something, though. What d'yer
think my old woman said about your mother?"

"I don't know. What did she say?"

"Said she was just a hangel, and she didn't know what she should ha'
done all through the stormy time if it hadn't been for her."

"Oh, bother! I didn't want to hear about that," said Lance hurriedly.

"But you ought to hear, and so I telled you. I say, what's gone of your
cousin?"

"Never you mind. What is it to you?" said Lance roughly. "You don't want
to see him again."

"Nay, I don't want to see him, Master Lance, 'cause I might feel tempted
like; and I don't want to run again' him, it might make me feel mad."

"Ah, well, you won't feel mad, Hezz, for he is never likely to come back
here again. He's at a big school place, and going to college soon."

"Well, I'm glad he isn't likely to come; not as I should fly out at him,
but Billy's wife right down hates him, and there's the other women do
too, for getting their lads sent away. You see they've the little uns to
keep; and Billy's wife says to me, on'y las' Sunday as we come back
along the cliffs from church with the little gal, 'Hezz,' she says, and
she burst out crying, 'it's like being a lone widow with her man drowned
in a storm, and it's cruel, cruel hard to bear.'"

"And what did you say, Hezz?"

"Nothin', Master Lance. Couldn't say nothing. Made me feel choky and as
if my voice was goin' to break agen; so I give her luttle gal a
pigaback home, and that seemed to do Billy's wife good. Hah, I should
like to see our old man home agen, for it's hard work to comfort mother
sometimes when I come back without my fish, and she shakes her head at
me and says, 'Ah, if your father had been here!'"

"Poor old lady!" said Lance.

"You see, it's when she's hungry, Master Lance. She don't mean it,
'cause she knows well enough there was times and times when the old man
come back with an empty maund; but then you see she'd got him, and now
it's no fish and no him nayther.--No, I won't, Master Lance. I didn't
say all that for you to be givin' me money agen."

"Well, I know that, stupid. It's my money, and I shall spend it how I
like. It isn't to buy anything for you, but for you to give to the old
woman."

"Nay, I won't take it. If you want to give it her, give it yourself. I
arn't a beggar.--Yes, I am, Master Lance--about the hungriest beggar I
ever see."

"You take that half-crown and give it to Mother Poltree, or I'll never
speak to you again."

"No, I won't. You give it her."

"I can't, Hezz; she makes so much fuss about it, and kisses me, and then
cries. Seems to do more harm than good."

"I won't take it," growled Hezz, "but you may shove the gashly thing in
my pocket if you like.--Thankye for her, Master Lance; it arn't for me.
And look here, mind, I've got it all chalked down in strokes behind my
bedroom door, and me and Billy and the old man'll pay it all back agen
some day."

"All right, Hezz," said Lance merrily. "You shall; so it's all so much
saved up, and when you do pay it we'll buy a new boat, regular
clinker-built, copper-fastened, and sail and mast."

"That we will, Master Lance," cried the lad eagerly. "One as can sail
too, so's we can hold a rope astern and offer to give t'others a tow. I
say, think the old man will ever come back?"

"I hope so, Hezz."

"Ay, that's what I do--hopes. Sent over the sea, I s'pose, if they did."

"Oh, don't talk about it, Hezz!" cried Lance bitterly. "Why didn't they
be content with getting a living with the fish?"

Hezz made no reply, but trudged off to the long whitewashed cottage on
the cliff, where as Lance watched he saw Mother Poltree come out and
Hezz hand her the big silver coin with King George's head on one side.

The result was that the brawny old woman threw her apron over her face,
tore it down again and looked down below, caught sight of the giver, and
began to descend.

But Lance was too quick for her: he took flight and ran below the cliff,
scrambling over the rocks, for it was low tide, and had a toilsome climb
up a dangerous part so as to get back home.

CHAPTER VII

It was one bright spring morning after getting well on with his Latin
reading with the vicar, that Lance thought he would go down to the cliff
and see what luck Hezz had had with the trammel overnight.

Suddenly he stopped short and stood staring down at the cliff shelf,
hardly believing it was true, for there below him in a row stood four
great pairs of stiff flannel trousers in four pairs of heavy fisherman's
boots, just as if the men's wives had put them out in the sunshine
against the old wooden rail to sweeten and dry out some of the damp
salt, in case their wearers should come back.

But Lance Penwith had lived there too long to be deceived by such a
sight as that, and uttering a cry of amazement he began trying to break
his neck by a heavy fall before he arrived safely on the broad shelf, to
yell out, "Ship ahoy!"

Then, and then only, did the biggest and broadest pair of trousers begin
to move, and a great shaggy head turned to show a dark mahogany face
fringed with stiff white hair.

"Come back!" shouted Lance; "and you too, Billy; and you two."

"Master Lahnce, lad!" cried the old man, making a grab at the boy's hand
with one of his huge paws, clapping the other upon it, and working it up
and down slowly as he said, "The old 'ooman's told me all about it, and
I says, humble and thankful like, God bless yer!"

"And so says all on us," chorused his companions.

"That's right, my sons; that's right," growled the old man.

"But you've come back," cried Lance, trying in vain to free his hand,
for the others wanted to shake it, and Billy Poltree had to be content
with the left, while the other men ornamented the boy with fleshly
epaulettes in the shape of a hand apiece on the shoulders.

"Ay, my lad, we've come back," said Old Poltree solemnly, "for it's
weary months and months as we four has been in desert lands up the
eastern parts and up the norrard coasties; but it's allus been with a
long look-out for the native land as we felt as we must see once more
afore we died. We bore it all as long as we could, and then we said we'd
get home and see our wives and bairns, and then they might take us and
send us away across the main, for it arn't been living, has it, my
sons?"

There was a tremendous _No!_ and plenty of answering of eagerly put
questions before Lance could get away and run panting up to where the
squire and his mother were sitting at home.

"They've come back--they've come back!" he shouted, and then he stood as
if struck dumb at the thought of what he had done--raced off to tell the
only magistrate for miles round that the fugitive smugglers had returned
as if to give themselves up.

[Illustration: "Master Lahnce, lad!" cried the old man, making a grab at
the boy's hand.]

A few questions followed, and Mrs. Penwith sat gazing anxiously from
husband to son and back again, for the same thought occurred to her as
had flashed upon her boy--"What will he say?" But it was something quite
different from anything they expected.

"Come back, Lance? Yes, you've come back, and the dinner is getting
cold. Come along."

Lance stared.

But his father said something more before they left the table.

"So those smuggling rascals have come back? Well, I always expected they
would. A nice long lesson they've had. Well, knowing what I do, I shall
not take any steps unless I am obliged by pressure from Falmouth. Then,
of course, I must. They are your friends, Lance, not mine; and I suppose
they have quite given up smuggling."

"Yes, father," cried the boy; "Old Poltree told me, with tears in his
eyes, that if he had known what was to come of it he would never have
touched keg or bale. They'll never smuggle again."

"Let them prove it while they have a chance, my boy; it may tell in
their favour when they are arrested and sent for trial."

"But this is a very out-of-the-way place," he said afterwards to Mrs.
Penwith, "and I don't think any one will trouble them, for the matter is
almost forgotten now."

"But ought you to----"

"Where's that boy?" said the squire, frowning.

Lance had rushed off again to tell his friends on the cliff how his
father had taken their return.

"BY DEFAULT OF THE ENGINEER"

BY FRANKLIN FOX

LATE CAPTAIN P. & O. CO. SERVICE

     _Author of "Conqueror Compass," "Frank Allreddy's Fortune," &c. &c._

"Ye'll hae the gudeness, Mr. Williams, to be vary parteecular in having
the coals trimmed in the bunkers. I've nae been doon in yon bunkers
mysel', and I hae nae time at this moment to gang there; but I mind
hearin' tell that there's something peculiar about the construction of
them, so I'll thank ye to gie your attention to the matter, as I maun
gang awa' to the office the noo."

Mr. Williams, the second engineer, gave a rather gruff and surly
response to the order of his chief, who immediately afterwards turned
away and went on shore.

I, who was the third officer of the _Serampore_, upon the main-deck of
which vessel the above colloquy took place, was standing in the main
hatchway attending to the stowage of the cargo, and took but little heed
of the circumstance at the time, though events which took place
subsequently brought it to my mind.

Owing to some derangement of the Company's lines of service in the Red
Sea, it had been necessary to bring forward for immediate duty the old
_Serampore_, a side-wheeler, which, in consequence of the recent
introduction of screw-steamers into our fleet, was beginning to be
classed amongst the obsolete ones. Orders had been given by the agent
at Bombay, where the ship was lying, to have the vessel got ready for
sea at once and despatched to Aden and Suez, where her services were
required to take the place of another ship in the regular line of
Eastern communication.

The captain, officers, and engineers had all been hurriedly selected
from other vessels and appointed to this ship, the second engineer
having been the only officer in charge while she was laid up. He had
expected, with much confidence, that he would have been made chief
engineer in the event of the ship being wanted again, and, no doubt,
felt a considerable soreness at a chief engineer from another ship being
put over his head.

At this moment the chief officer called out to me--

"Have you got much more room there, Hardy? There are two more boat-loads
of stuff coming alongside now."

"Yes, plenty of room, sir," replied I, and was soon busily engaged in
superintending the safe stowage of boxes of tea, cases of indigo, and
the other articles that composed our cargo. On the upper deck there was
a constant stream of coolies shooting the baskets of coal down into the
bunkers on both sides of the deck, through the small round holes which
had been made for that purpose, and which were fitted with iron plates
for covers let in flush with the deck, when closed.

From the fact that such a ship as the old paddle-steamer _Serampore_ was
still available for service, it will be readily understood that the
incidents I am about to relate did not happen yesterday. In fact it was
before the days when the Suez Canal was opened; and consequently, when
it was known in Bombay that an extra P. & O. ship was put upon the
berth, several officers and others who had come from up country, and
were waiting for the regular mail to start to England, seized this
opportunity, with the idea of getting a few more days in Egypt than they
would otherwise have been able to secure.

In due time the _Serampore_ was coaled and her cargo all in, so she
slipped her moorings at Masagon and took up her berth off the Apollo
Bunder, where her passengers were to join her. As it was in the end of
the month of July, we anticipated meeting the south-west monsoon in its
greatest force, and had prepared for this by sending down all the
_Serampore's_ upper spars, lowering the topmasts half-way down the lower
masts, the backstays being "snaked" across and across the fore and main
rigging on both sides, while the fore and main yards only were kept up
aloft, and the trysail gaffs, with their respective sails.

[Illustration: "A quiet smoke."]

The _Serampore_, as it was the fashion with steam-ships of that period,
had a goodly show of top hamper when she was all a-taunto, and stripped
in the manner which I have just described, she appeared, in my eyes, to
present a melancholy aspect, something like a skinned rabbit. But as I
had only recently been enjoying sea life as a midshipman in a large
sailing-ship, that fact may excuse the comparison in which I indulged as
to her appearance.

We were to sail next morning at nine o'clock, and the evening was passed
by the chief and second officers and myself in a quiet smoke and a chat
about things in general.

"What's the new skipper like, Mr. Urquhart?" said the second officer;
"do you know anything of him?"

"Oh yes," replied the chief officer, "I think he's a very nice fellow."

"What's his name, sir?" said I.

"Skeed," replied the chief officer. "He was in the Navy once. I believe
his nickname there was 'Donkey Skeed.'"

"'Donkey' Skeed?" said I, laughing; "what, on account of anything in his
appearance?"

"Oh no; not on account of his ears," replied the chief, "but on account
of his obstinacy. When he once gets an idea in his head, nothing in the
world will ever knock it out of him."

"Where did you hear all this?" said the second mate.

"Oh, I remember hearing about him at home from a naval man I knew who
was messmate with him on the West Coast."

"Well," said the second officer, "there isn't much to be obstinate about
at present, except fighting the south-west monsoon."

"Exactly," replied Urquhart; "and from what he said to me to-day that's
just the very thing he's got in his head. He's got a new idea, he says,
which he is going to try."

"What is it?" said the second officer and I simultaneously.

"Well, he thinks that, instead of steering a direct course for Aden
right in the teeth of the monsoon, it would be better policy to edge
away across the Arabian Sea on a nor'-west course, making the monsoon a
leading wind, because he declares it his opinion that on the Arabian
coast the monsoon will be either much lighter or have drawn more to the
southward."

"What did you say to that?"

"Oh, I said I thought it might be so, but that we should have to
traverse considerably more distance; to which he replied that the speed
at which the ship would travel under the improved conditions of weather
would make up for that."

"I'm not at all sure about it," said the second officer.

"Nor I," said Mr. Urquhart. "But I believe he's going to try it this
voyage anyhow. Good-night, you fellows; I'm going to turn in."

Early next morning several bunder-boats came alongside. The bunder-boats
of Bombay, I may mention, are the most convenient water-carriages
possible, and very suitable for the wet and blowy weather prevailing in
the monsoon. They are large, roomy boats, with a covered-in cabin in the
after-part, capable of holding four or five people comfortably. They are
rigged with two short masts and a _patémar_, or lateen sail, and carry a
strong crew. The first passengers to appear were two ladies, two
children, and an ayah. These proved to be Mrs. Woodruff, her sister Miss
Reed, and her two children, the lady having been ordered home from
Allahabad, where her husband's regiment was stationed, on account of her
health. A captain and subaltern of the same regiment, invalided; then
two officers, Captains Thompson and Shaw, from Poonah, with their wives,
going home on furlough; a professor from the university, named Spiller;
and two more ladies, wives of civil servants, made up the number. While
the fourth officer was busy looking after the baggage, and before he
had well got it out of the gangway, the quartermaster of the watch
called out--

"Look out, sir; captain's coming alongside."

"Shove that bunder-boat off, out of the way! Clear the gangway there!"
and in another minute the _Serampore's_ white gig flashed up alongside,
and Captain Skeed sprang up the accommodation ladder.

All of us on deck saluted him, and turning hastily to the chief officer,
he asked--

"Have you ordered steam, Mr. Urquhart, for nine o'clock?"

"Yes, sir."

"The ship appears to be down by the stern. Isn't she, Mr. Urquhart?"

"I believe she is, sir, a little. The carpenter hasn't given me the
draught this morning."

"She appeared to me, as I pulled off in my gig, to be eight or nine
inches at least, if not more."

"I thought she would do better in monsoon weather a little by the stern,
but I'd no idea she was as much as that, and there's nothing in the
cargo stowage that I'm aware of to account for it," said the chief
officer.

"Well, I don't know that it matters very much," rejoined the captain;
"at all events, we can't alter it now. See everything ready for slipping
from the buoy at nine o'clock. Now we'll have breakfast," added he, as
eight bells struck. "Has the purser come off with the ship's papers
yet?"

"Not yet, sir; but he's been gone some time. I expect he'll be here
every minute," replied Mr. Urquhart, as they entered the saloon
together.

At the appointed hour the _Serampore_ slipped from her buoy, and
steaming away through the shipping at anchor, soon passed the light
vessel, and leaving Colaba lighthouse on her quarter, began to breast
the heavy seas and face the rain and spray that the fierce monsoon
blast drove against her. In half-an-hour's time nothing was visible but
the white-capped waves pounding against her bows, dimly seen at times
through the thick driving rain that enveloped her, as it were, in a
dreary and isolated world of her own.

[Illustration: "This is a pleasant prospect."]

"This is a pleasant prospect," thought I to myself, as I buttoned up my
oilskins and ascended the bridge ladder to relieve Mr. Urquhart at eight
o'clock.

"Keep her west-sou'-west," said that officer, "and call the captain if
there is any change."

"All right, sir," said I. "What's she going?"

"Five and a half," replied the chief officer; "twelve revolutions. Keep
a good look-out for ships, Mr. Hardy."

"Ay, ay, sir," said I. "There's one comfort, that we can't change to
much worse weather than we've got."

"No," said he with a laugh, as the _Serampore_ buried her broad bows
right up to the heel of her bowsprit, over an extra heavy sea.

The chief officer and his satellite, the fourth, who kept watch with
him, after divesting themselves of their oilskins, betook themselves to
the comfortable and well-lighted saloon, where such of the ladies and
gentlemen as had not succumbed to the influences of the weather and the
diving of the ship, were endeavouring to get up a show of sociability;
though not even Miss Reed, who had struck me at dinner as being a
lively, agreeable, and pretty person, had courage enough to attempt a
performance on the piano.

"I wonder how many days we're in for of this," thought I to myself, as I
paced the bridge, the pitching of the vessel jerking me against the rail
at every other step. "Let me see--it's about 1700 miles to Aden, I
think. At the rate we're going, we shall have nearly a fortnight of
this. It's enough to make one savage;" and to relieve my feelings, I
immediately yelled out to the two look-out men who were on the
forecastle (Lascars, of course)--

"_Koop dek agle_" ("Good look out forward").

"_Acha, sahib_" ("Very well, sir"), came back like a shot from the men
on duty, who were getting soused every now and then by the seas that
broke over the bows.

The night was dark as well as thick. The wind howled shrilly through the
_Serampore's_ rigging, giving me a melancholy accompaniment to my march
backwards and forwards across the bridge platform. I kept a bright
look-out for any ships that might be about, as we were just now in the
track of vessels bound up to Kurrachee or the Persian Gulf, and I knew
that there would be scanty time to do anything to avoid a collision
should we chance to meet one. Nothing, however, happened to disturb the
dull monotony of what sailors would describe as a regular pile-driving
business.

At eight bells (midnight) I was glad to deliver up my charge to Mr.
Sinclair, the second officer, and betake myself to my comfortable cabin
and repose, which not even the staggering and pitching of the
_Serampore_, nor the dash of the spray and rain against my cabin, which
was on deck, could disturb.

The next day the weather seemed to be, if possible, worse than it was
when we started. The seas were heavier and more irregular, and the wind
seemed to blow even harder than it had done. During my forenoon watch
the log only showed five knots an hour, and the sky was so thick with
rain and mist that we got no sights. Some of the passengers made their
appearance on deck, and tried to take constitutionals, pacing fore and
aft the raised quarter-deck, but soon gave the attempt up as hopeless,
and went below to amuse themselves with books or chess, cards or
conversation.

My night watch was only a repetition of previous experience, and I fear
it would tire my readers if I favoured them with a longer description of
the wind, the sea, and the weather. It is necessary to make a voyage in
the south-west monsoon before any one can quite realise what it means.
The best description of it I can give in a few words is, a lengthened
duration of a south-west gale in the English Channel, with thick weather
and a temperature of about seventy-five or eighty degrees.

On the fourth day out, I was keeping the forenoon watch as usual, and
had left the bridge for a moment or two to compare the standard with the
binnacle compasses, and as I passed the saloon companion, which had a
hood over it facing aft, I saw Miss Reed with one of her sister's little
girls standing at the top of the ladder. Of course I lifted my cap and
wished her good-morning.

"Do you think we shall have any better weather soon, Mr. Hardy?" she
asked. "I've been watching those great seas shoot up under the stern of
the ship, and they do look so cruel and savage that it positively
frightens one."

"I'm afraid there's not much chance of any real improvement till we get
to Aden," said I; "but there's nothing that you need be frightened
about, for the old ship is as sound as a bell, and is fighting her way
on as well as we could expect under the circumstances."

"My sister's a very poor sailor," said she, "and I don't believe she'd
have come if she had thought it was going to be anything like this."

I had taken a step aft towards the binnacle, remembering that I was in
charge of the deck, and that talking to passengers on duty was not
exactly in harmony with the Company's regulations, when the _Serampore_,
after making a moderate dive, encountered an unusually heavy sea, which
threw her nose up into the air, as it were, and Miss Reed, having for
the moment relaxed her hold upon the companion-rail, was, with the
child, shot out upon the deck as if she had been flung by a gigantic
catapult. The child was rolling towards the rail, where there was only a
slight netting, which, if it parted, as being old it very likely might
with her weight, would leave nothing between her and the raging sea
beneath, when I made a desperate bound forward and caught a firm grip of
her dress. At the same time swinging myself round, I was able with my
left arm to arrest the headlong rush of Miss Reed against the corner of
the skylight, towards which she was helplessly thrown. But the impetus
with which she was flung was so great that I could only save myself from
falling by pressing my back against the skylight.

[Illustration: "Caught a firm grip of her dress."]

In a minute she recovered herself, and seizing the child in her arms,
she gave me a grateful look, and murmuring her thanks, allowed me to
hand her down the companion.

I had scarcely done this when Captain Skeed popped his head out of his
cabin door.

"Send for the chief officer and chief engineer, if you please, Mr.
Hardy."

"Ay, ay, sir. Quartermaster, tell Mr. Urquhart and Mr. Stewart that they
are wanted by the captain."

In a few minutes both those officers were closeted with Captain Skeed.

As I resumed my walk on the bridge, I confess I felt some curiosity to
know what the subject of the colloquy going on in the captain's cabin
might be, for I was sure that something or other of importance must be
under discussion. I had not long to wait for one result, at all events,
of the deliberations. Directly we made it twelve o'clock, and the second
officer had handed in to the captain the ship's position by dead
reckoning, for we had seen neither sun, moon, nor stars since we left
Bombay, I received orders to alter the course.

"Keep her away to west-north-west, Mr. Hardy," shouted the captain from
the quarter-deck; "and set the fore and aft sails with a single reef in
them."

"Port four points, quartermaster," said I; "keep her west-north-west.
_Serang, sub adimee seeah carro seede mar_" ("Boatswain, pipe all hands
make sail").

In a few minutes the trysails were opened out, the reef points tied, and
the sails set, together with the fore topmast staysail. The monsoon was
blowing from about south-west by south, so that with the sheets hauled
flat aft they were just clean full, the luffs only lifting a little as
the ship dived over the heavy seas. The alteration in the course brought
the sea much broader on the _Serampore's_ bow, some of the waves, in
fact, coming nearer her beam than her bow, but the canvas steadied her
greatly. She only shipped half the quantity of water that she had been
doing, and although her progress was not greatly accelerated, she went
along much more steadily and comfortably than she had done hitherto. As
soon as the sails were set and the men piped to dinner, Sinclair came up
on the bridge to relieve me.

"What was the council of war about? Did Urquhart tell you?" asked I.

"Oh yes," replied Sinclair; "the captain's determined to try his plan of
making the Arabian coast where the wind will help him, and then steaming
up along the land to Aden. From what Urquhart said, he wanted to be sure
about the coals, as we shall have a considerably longer distance to
cover by the new route."

"I hope he hasn't made a mistake," said I; and leaving Mr. Sinclair in
charge, I went off to work up the day's reckoning and have my lunch.

For the next five or six days the _Serampore_ was kept on the same
course with the same canvas set; and it certainly appeared that the
captain's theory was an accurate one, for as we approached the coast of
Arabia the monsoon blew rather less fiercely, and favoured our progress
a little more, so that the _Serampore_ had been making six and six and a
half knots by the log, instead of five and five and a half as she had
been making before the course was altered.

On the forenoon of the tenth day from our leaving Bombay the weather
cleared up a little just before noon, as it frequently does, and gazing
intently ahead, I fancied that I could see through the haze of rain that
still remained, a darker appearance ahead than there would be with mere
mist. At this moment the captain came up on the bridge. I pointed this
out to him at once, exclaiming--

"That looks remarkably like the land to me, sir."

"So it does, Mr. Hardy," said the captain. "Unless I'm very much out in
my reckoning, we ought to make Gebel Camar, or the Mountains of the
Moon, as they are called, very soon, and probably what you see is really
the land."

At this moment Mr. Stewart, the chief engineer, came up the bridge
ladder in an excited and hasty manner. A glance at his face told me,
before he opened his lips, that something was wrong.

"Captain Skeed, I've just made the discovery that the large pockets in
both the foremost bunkers are empty, and we haena got more than a few
hours' steaming in the ship."

"Good heavens! Why you told me the other day that we had eight or ten
days' full steaming in the ship."

"I know I did, sir, but I reckoned upon fifty tons in the twa pockets.
It appears now that that fellow Williams, who, I may say, has behaved
more like a deevil than a mon all the voyage, never fashed himsel' to
see the coals trimmed into the pockets, as I gave him orders to do in
Bombay."

"What does he say about it?" said the captain.

"He actually tells me that it was no his business, and I ought to hae
seen to it mysel'."

"I never heard of pockets in bunkers before," said the captain.

"Nor anybody else," said Mr. Stewart. "They're just bunkers within the
bunkers. Ye can't get to them frae the deck, and to fill 'em with coal
it has to be passed in by the trimmers through a hole that's cut in the
bulkhead."

"Confound such contrivances!" exclaimed the captain, stamping his foot
on the bridge. "Well, Mr. Stewart, we must make a sailing-ship of her,
that's all. There's the land, and we shall have to keep clear of it
under canvas. How long will it take you to disconnect?"

"I dinna ken, sir, that ye can disconnect the paddle-wheels at all; and
anyhow, if it's possible to do it, the gear will be set as fast as a
rock, for I doubt if they've been disconnected since she was built."

"If you can't disconnect, then, can you take the floats off?"

"There's muckle sea on for a job o' that sort; but maybe by lifting the
paddle-flaps at the top we could take the upper ones off."

"Then keep enough steam so as to move the wheels as required, and set
all your engineers to work to unscrew the bolts and take the floats
off."

"Vera weel, sir," said the engineer, and in a few minutes the four
engineers and the boiler maker with all the firemen mounted the
paddle-boxes with spanners and hammers, and set to work unscrewing the
nuts and removing the floats as fast as they could, the engines in the
meantime having been stopped.

The chief officer was then summoned by the captain to commence
immediately re-rigging the ship. As the top-masts had to be swayed up
and fidded, topsail-yards crossed, and top-gallant mast sent up, besides
all the sails being bent to the yards, every soul of the ship's company
was fully occupied for the rest of the day.

During all this time the _Serampore_ was gradually drifting towards the
land, which became more distinct as we approached it.

By sunset the engineers had succeeded in getting off all the floats, the
engines having been turned gently to move the wheels as required, and
the sailor part of the ship's company had got matters so far advanced
that we were able to set reefed topsails and courses upon the ship. The
captain then summoned all of us officers to his cabin.

I could see that he had not even yet recovered from the exasperation
caused him by what had taken place.

"I have sent for you all," he said, "to ask your opinions on the
situation. It's no use to attempt to work the ship to Aden under canvas.
I propose, therefore, to heave-to till daylight, and then run into one
of the bays on the coast to leeward of us. I see there is one marked on
the chart between Seger and Kalfat, near the town of Doan, and if I can
make that without running up against any rocks I shall anchor the ship
there. Has any one anything better to propose?"

We all said no, and the council broke up.

In accordance with the decision arrived at, the _Serampore_ was hove-to
for the night. At daylight next morning all sail was made on her, and
with wind abaft the beam she ran in for the spot which Captain Skeed had
indicated as suitable for his purpose.

The coast stood out barren and rocky, but there was a break in it
visible right ahead. With the lead going, and a sharp look-out for
rocks, we sailed into a small bight or bay under the lee of Seger Point,
and let go her anchor in thirteen fathoms. As the cable was veered out
she swung round head to wind and sea with her stern inland; but as she
tautened her cable a crash sounded from aft, and we felt her stern bump
upon a sunken rock.

"My God!" exclaimed Captain Skeed, "the ship is lost," and he fell upon
the deck insensible. We carried him into his cabin, and the doctor was
immediately summoned, but all his efforts to restore animation were
unavailing. Captain Skeed was dead.

II

Although the position taken up by the _Serampore_ was somewhat sheltered
from the force of the monsoon by a projecting point of land, still there
was a heavy swell in the little bight or bay where she was, which broke
upon the rocky and barren shores around her with an incessant roar and
clouds of spray. The swell lifted her stern again and again, causing her
to strike heavily as each succeeding wave swept under her. At last with
a final heavy bumping crash which carried away her after spars, she
settled down upon the rocks, which were afterwards found to be the end
of a reef stretching out from the land, partially visible above water at
certain times of the tide.

The sudden and untimely death of Captain Skeed spread a feeling of
consternation and horror through the ship, and aggravated the anxiety
which the passengers felt at their situation.

Mr. Urquhart, of course, had to take the direction of affairs, and when
he met the passengers at dinner he had a difficult task before him.

The ship appeared to be now fixed firmly upon the rocks at her stern,
and her anchor kept her from moving in any direction. The water could be
heard rushing in through the damaged plates at the stern, and in order
to prevent her sinking altogether when the water filled her forward, Mr.
Urquhart caused the after part of the ship to be blocked up with an old
sail against the leaky places, and spare iron plates and boards wedged
against it to keep the water back.

Mr. Urquhart had not been in the saloon a minute before he was assailed
with questions.

"Can you tell us whereabouts we are, Mr. Urquhart? What part of the
coast are we upon?" asked Professor Spiller.

"The ship is about one hundred and fifty miles south of the Kuria-Muria
Islands in one direction, and between four and five hundred in the other
from Aden."

"What in the name of Heaven did the captain anchor here for?" asked
Captain Shaw.

"His idea was, that lying here in smoother water, he might be able to
remove the ironwork of the paddle-wheels, which would render the ship
unmanageable under canvas, and then he intended, I believe, either to
sail her back to Bombay, or to wait until the monsoon broke, and try to
reach Aden."

"Poor fellow, poor Captain Skeed, I'm sure he would have done the best
thing possible," exclaimed Mrs. Woodruff.

"No doubt he was a good officer," said the professor. "But what's to be
done now?"

"Of course," said Mr. Urquhart, "that plan is knocked on the head now.
The ship is, to all intents and purposes, a wreck."

"What chance is there of our being seen and picked up?" asked the
professor.

"Not a very encouraging one, I am afraid; there is no regular trade
along this coast," replied Mr. Urquhart.

"But vessels pass this way occasionally, don't they?" said Captain Shaw.

"Sometimes country vessels, as they are called--ships that go trading
about to all sorts of coast ports, in the employ of native
merchants--may pass this way, bound to or from the Persian Gulf, but I
can't say I know anything at all about them."

"And how about the natives?" said the professor; "are they likely to be
friendly or hostile to us, do you suppose?"

"There, again, I am sorry I can give you no information; but I shall
make it my business to see that we are prepared to give them as warm a
reception as we can, should they attempt to molest us."

"And what is your idea that we should do eventually?" asked Captain
Thompson.

"I'm afraid that we can do nothing at all at present. Fortunately we
have plenty of provisions and water to last for a considerable time, and
all the boats are in good condition, if the weather would permit us to
make use of them. We can only prepare ourselves to resist any attack
that the natives, should they be hostile, may make upon us, and keep a
good look-out for any vessel that may be passing. If any of you,
gentlemen, can suggest anything, else, I shall be quite pleased to adopt
it."

The next day Captain Skeed's body was taken on shore to be buried. Mr.
Urquhart had caused a grave to be dug in the sand, near a remarkable
mass of rock about some five hundred yards from the beach. Several of
the passengers, and all the ship's company, attended the funeral, all
the ship's boats being lowered when the time came; and after the funeral
service had been read by the purser, a heap of stones of all sizes,
collected by the crew, was piled upon the grave.

I cast my eyes around me as I watched this melancholy performance, but I
could see nothing in the distance in the shape of a living creature. It
was all a trackless waste of sand and rocks.

After we returned on board, Mr. Urquhart sent for the chief engineer,
and told him to bring Mr. Williams, the second engineer, on the
quarter-deck. When he appeared, Mr. Urquhart said--

"It was Captain Skeed's intention to have disrated you from your
position as second engineer, in consequence of your gross neglect in
omitting to see the ship's bunkers properly filled with coal, and for
your insubordinate conduct to the chief engineer."

"It was just as much Mr. Stewart's business to see to the coaling as
mine," replied Williams.

"Silence if you please, sir. Under the present circumstances I do not
propose to carry out the intention of the late captain; but I must tell
you that entries relating to your conduct have been made in the official
log-book of this ship, and that any further steps in the matter will be
left to the decision of the managing directors of the Company when we
are able to get away from this place. I hope, if you have an
opportunity, you will endeavour to redeem your past misconduct, which
has entailed such terrible consequences upon the _Serampore_, and
everybody on board of her."

Mr. Williams made no reply, but turned and went below. After he had
gone, Mr. Stewart remarked--

"He's nae such a bad chiel, I'm thinking, at bottom, but he was mad
because he didna get the berth himsel'."

After these occurrences the days began to pass by with a dreary
monotony. Every morning when I got up, it was with the expectation that
something or other would happen soon, and every night when I turned in,
it was with the same uneasy feeling of anticipation or dread hanging
about me. Mr. Urquhart ordered the watches to be kept regularly, as if
we were at sea, and during the day a look-out man was kept at the
mast-head to watch for a passing sail. The mizzen-mast, with most of its
gear, and the main-top mast had been carried away by the successive
shocks of the ship bumping on the rocks, but everything stood forward.

The second officer was ordered to get up and examine what quantity of
powder and ammunition there was in the ship. We had a stand containing a
dozen muskets and also a few cutlasses, together with a dozen
boarding-pikes. These were all the small-arms belonging to the ship, and
there were two nine-pounder guns for signalling purposes mounted on the
quarter-deck.

"Don't you think," said I, "'twould be a good plan to have some
cartridges made, in case of anything happening?"

"Happy thought, Hardy," said Sinclair. "We'll get the powder up on the
saloon table, and perhaps the ladies will help us. Hold on a bit, how
about the bullets?"

"Ah, lucky thing you thought of that. We must get old Stewart to put his
men on to cast some for us, if we can find any lead."

I ran off immediately to hunt up the carpenter, who fortunately found a
big roll of lead in the bottom of his storeroom, which was soon in the
course of being transformed into bullets by some of the firemen.

I remembered also that a couple of kegs of powder for our agent at Aden
had been shipped with the cargo, and these were soon got out and the
contents utilised for large and small cartridges. After all this had
been done, time hung heavy on our hands. Nobody seemed to be in good
spirits enough to start any amusement, and a week of the most depressing
inaction passed away. All this time not the vestige of a native had been
seen anywhere in the vicinity of the ship.

The military men on board seemed to feel the situation almost
unbearable.

"I'll tell you what it is," said Rivers, the subaltern of Colonel
Woodruff's corps, to the other military passengers one morning, "I can't
stand this sort of thing any longer. Let's make up a party and try and
ascend that mountain there."

"I don't mind," said Captain Thompson.

"We might find something to shoot," said Captain Shaw. "We've all got
our rifles with us, haven't we?"

"Yes," said Thompson; "or we might get shot at instead of shooting
something."

"What are you talking of doing?" asked the professor, coming up at this
moment.

"Oh! we're thinking of doing a kind of picnic up the mountain yonder.
Will you join us, professor? You might be able to enrich science with
specimens of the flora and fauna of this howling wilderness," said
Rivers.

"I doubt if there's any great surprise for science hidden about here;
but I shall be very pleased to join the party. When is it to be?" said
the professor.

"Oh! shall we start to-morrow?"

"Yes, let it be to-morrow. What do you say, Thompson?" said Shaw.

"Agreed!" cried the rest.

"Very well, then," said Rivers. "You fellows get your rifles all ready,
and revolvers if you've got any, and I'll go and interview the purser
for a hamper of prog. And look here, Thompson, just ask Urquhart to let
young Hardy come with us, and half-a-dozen Lascars."

"To carry the game, eh, Rivers?"

"Just so; we may find them useful."

"Don't you want some of the ladies to go too?" asked Shaw.

"I've no objection, I'm sure," said Thompson.

"I think you'd better leave the women out of it," said Captain Staveley;
"I shouldn't like to have the responsibility on my mind if anything did
happen, you know, and I fancy we're going to make rather a leap in the
dark."

"All right," rejoined Rivers. "Then we'll start at daylight to-morrow.
What do you say, you chaps?"

Everybody agreed to this proposal; and I shortly had a message telling
me that the chief wanted me.

"There's a sporting party going out to-morrow, Hardy. You take six hands
with you, armed with cutlasses, and go with the party. You must use your
own discretion and act according to circumstances."

Next morning we all set off at the appointed hour, having been landed on
some rocks at a little distance from the ship. The Lascars appeared to
enjoy the chance of stretching their legs, and followed in the steps of
the party led by Mr. Rivers, chattering like schoolboys out for a
holiday.

"We'll make for that spur that sticks out seawards half-way up the
mountain," said Rivers. "I've got a compass on my watch-chain, and it
bears just a little to the west of south from us, so we shall know the
opposite bearing will take us back to the ship."

"That's a very sensible precaution of yours," said the professor. "How
many miles do you reckon we are from the foot of the mountain?"

"Five or six miles," was the reply.

"Come on then, step out; we shall have the sun directly, and climbing
will be no joke then," said Shaw.

So we all trudged along at a round pace. I had taken the precaution to
bring a revolver with me that Mr. Urquhart lent me, and a fowling-piece
and a pocketful of cartridges of my own.

After we had tramped along for about an hour over the sandy plain, and
lost sight of the ship, which was hidden by projecting rocks, we reached
the foot of the mountain, and found a sort of track which led us into a
narrow gorge overhung by rocks on each side. We penetrated through this
for about a quarter of a mile. At the end of it there were two tracks
visible, one leading up the side of the mountain, and the other,
branching to the left, seemed to lead to habitations of some kind, for
the road was a beaten track, and the professor declared that he could
see smoke in the air at a distance.

"Here's a parting of the ways," said Rivers. "Shall we start to ascend
the mountain? Shall we follow the road, which may lead us to some
habitations? or shall we sit down and have our tiffin?"

Rivers' proposals being put to the vote, that for tiffin was carried
unanimously; so finding the softest stones for seats, we very soon
disposed of the provender in our hamper, the Lascars refreshing
themselves in their own fashion.

"Now, I think," said Rivers, "as we haven't met with anything of
interest during our walk, we'd better go and see if there really is a
village there, and what it's like."

[Illustration: "Uttering a wild yell, rushed off towards the nearest
hut."]

Accordingly we set off upon the track leading to the left, and after a
quarter of an hour's walk, turning an abrupt corner formed by a huge
boulder, we came upon a number of huts clustered together. There were
some palm-trees growing in the midst. No doubt this was one of the oases
that are said to be dotted about the country. We had not made many more
steps in the direction of the village, when a wild-looking figure, half
naked, his long reddish-coloured hair standing upright on his head,
darted out from behind a boulder ahead of us, and uttering a wild yell,
rushed off towards the nearest hut.

"Gentlemen, let me advise all of you to look to your arms, and see they
are ready for use," said Rivers, "for we shall soon know now whether we
have fallen amongst friends or foes."

We all halted for a moment and examined our rifles and guns, and I
called to the Lascars to keep close to us and be prepared to use their
cutlasses at a moment's notice. A few more steps brought us amongst the
huts of the village, from which men, women, and children stared at us
with looks of wonder. The fellow who had first descried us still ran on
ahead, and we followed him until we were in the centre of what appeared
to be a considerably large settlement. He had never ceased uttering his
hideous yell as he went along, and on entering an open square, which had
a hut bigger than the rest on one side of it, probably the abode of the
chief, a crowd of at least fifty natives, similar in appearance to the
one we had first seen, but all armed with spears and matchlocks of a
very ancient construction, leapt as it were from the ground, and stood
in a compact body before us in front of the large hut.

As we neared them some handled their spears and some their matchlocks,
and I thought that the critical moment had come when we should have to
fight for our lives.

"Halt," said Rivers to our party. "Form double line," and the twelve of
us drew ourselves up.

"Now, professor, you speak Arabic, don't you? Try them with a little
soft sawder first, will you. We don't want to fight unless we're
obliged. There isn't much to be gained by it."

The professor immediately stepped three paces in front, and calling out,
"Salaam, Aleikum," addressed a sentence in Arabic to the group.

The only answer to this was a wild yell and a chatter of gibberish.

"What was it you said?" asked Rivers.

"We are friends, and want to see the chief," answered the professor.
"But I can't understand a word of their talk. I fancy these people of
the Seger region have a distinct dialect of their own."

"Try 'em in English," said Thompson. "Where's your chief, you silly
beggars, you?"

The only response to this was another wild yell and another shower of
gibberish, accompanied by a flourish of the spears.

At this instant a noise was heard from the hut in the rear of the rows
of natives drawn up in front, and the line opened in the middle, when a
tall grey-bearded Arab, with a long camel-hair burnoose over his
shoulders, and a polished wooden spear in his hand, stepped forward a
few paces.

The professor immediately addressed him with the ordinary Eastern
salutation, of which the chief took but little notice, making a remark
which the professor understood to mean that our presence was not
welcome. Unwilling to leave matters in this unsatisfactory position, the
professor harangued the chief in Arabic, uttering the most friendly
sentiments, and expressing a desire to purchase dates or any commodities
that his highness the sheik might have to dispose of.

I was unable to gather whether the sheik understood this speech or no. I
am disposed to think that he did; but the only answer he vouchsafed to
it was to extend his spear in the direction whence we had come, and to
utter three words in such an unmistakable tone of wrath and contempt
that we all understood it to mean, as the professor afterwards said it
did, "Infidel dogs, begone!"

After this there was nothing for it but to retreat in as good order as
possible. Rivers gave the word to march, telling us to look behind us at
every other step. Before we had taken three steps the sheik uttered a
loud command, and the natives vanished from the square in the same rapid
manner in which they had presented themselves.

As we passed by their huts we were greeted with shrill cries of derision
by the women and children standing in the entrances.

From a hasty glance I threw at them the women appeared not by any means
bad-looking, but very similar in character to those you may see in the
native town at Aden, light copper colour, with a profusion of dark hair
and large dark eyes.

As we entered the narrow defile or gorge by which we had reached the
village, Rivers, who was bringing up the rear, called out to us, "Look
out now, and be steady. If they're going to molest us it will be here."

The words were scarcely out of his mouth when the hideous yells, now
familiar to us, arose on either side.

"Halt!" said Rivers. "Form two lines back to back facing the sides of
the gorge. Make ready, they'll be on us in a minute," and as he spoke,
about fifty of them on each side dashed towards us. When they were
within five yards of us, Rivers gave the word to fire, and down went
four or five of the leading savages on each side. This gave them a
momentary check, and Rivers instantly called out, "Give 'em your second
barrels, sharp."

This we did promptly, and the natives stopped and seemed as if about to
fly, for our volley had done great execution.

"Now, then," said Rivers, "run for it before they recover themselves,
but keep together."

As we started to run the natives hurled a shower of spears at us. One
grazed Rivers' arm, making the blood come; another pierced the Lascar by
my side to the heart, and the poor fellow fell dead; another went
through the professor's _solar topee_, causing him to utter exclamations
of rage and despair. But we pushed on as hard as we could go for the
ship. The natives, we could see, hung behind us in a cloud, their
numbers appearing to have been considerably augmented; they, however,
took care to keep out of the range of our guns.

In an hour's time we regained the deck of the _Serampore_, the natives
still following in the distance.

I rushed up to Mr. Urquhart, and in a few words explained to him what
had occurred, whereupon he instantly ordered all hands to be called, and
got our two nine-pounders aft loaded, and pointed towards the shore
opposite the stern of the ship. The ladies behaved with wonderful
coolness and courage when they heard that an attack might be expected
from the natives, and offered their services as nurses or in any other
way in which they might be useful.

In the meantime a great crowd of natives were assembling on the shore
opposite the ship, at which their leaders were pointing and uttering
wild cries of defiance. Their only means of approach was either by
swimming, or by the irregular causeway that the rocks of the reef
provided, and that would not admit of a large number walking abreast.
After a brief pause, however, they made a forward movement, and with
loud cries dashed, some through the water and some on the reef, with the
evident idea of boarding the ship. Those who had matchlocks fired them
off at us, but without doing any damage. Every man in the ship for whom
there was a musket, or who possessed a rifle or gun of any description,
was employed under the second officer in picking off the men on the reef
or those in the water. But as fast as they dropped off the rocks they
were replaced by others, and the numbers on shore seemed to be augmented
from time to time by men coming in various directions from one knew not
where.

[Illustration: "Mr. Urquhart tried the effect of the nine-pounders."]

After a time Mr. Urquhart tried the effect of the nine-pounders, which
did great execution amongst the crowd; but he was obliged to be very
careful, on account of the limited number of shot he had, and the not
very large supply of powder. The shot we supplemented with small canvas
bags of old nails and iron bolts, which made a very good substitute for
grape-shot. The fight lasted under these conditions till sunset, not one
of the natives having got nearer the ship than to touch her on the
outside. The attack then ceased for a time, and we had leisure to
refresh ourselves.

When I took my watch I could hear the sound of the multitude on shore,
who would no doubt recommence the attack in the morning. The night was
calm and still, for the monsoon had broken, and now only blew at
intervals in moderate breezes.

I had an opportunity of exchanging a few words with Miss Reed when she
came up on deck for a few moments.

"I hope you are not hurt, Mr. Hardy," she said.

"Not at all," said I. "I trust you'll keep your spirits up. I've no
doubt we shall settle these fellows in the morning."

"I hope you will; and oh how I pray for a ship to come and take us away
from this terrible spot!"

"Perhaps we shall see one sooner than you expect; but keep your courage
up, dear Miss Reed, all will be well."

At early daylight, as the enemy was all massed together, Mr. Urquhart
loaded both the nine-pounders to the muzzle with his own particular
grape, and pointing them carefully into the midst of the crowd, where
the leaders were to be seen, discharged both simultaneously with
terrible effect, many natives being killed.

At this moment the look-out at the mast-head shouted out at the top of
his voice, "Sail O! a ship in sight near the land."

"Take one of the cutters, Mr. Hardy, and pull out to that vessel. Take a
flag with you to wave in the boat. Tell them our condition, and beg them
to assist us and take the people off the ship."

With what eager delight and anxiety I proceeded to obey this order the
reader can well imagine. As the weather was fine, and nearly calm, I
succeeded, after a long pull, in getting alongside the vessel. She
proved to be a "country" trader on a voyage from Bombay to Zanzibar,
whence she was now on her way to Bassora. She was called the _Cowasjee
Family_, and commanded by a smart young officer named Wilkinson, who
willingly proffered every assistance that might be required. He brought
his ship in as close to the _Serampore_ as he could, and the natives
having been demoralised by our fire, we proceeded to embark the
passengers and crew of the _Serampore_ on board his ship. He told us
that it was quite a chance he was in that locality, but he had been set
out of his course by a strong current. Every effort that Captain
Wilkinson could make for the comfort of our passengers and crew was
made, and in due time we all safely landed at Bassora. Luckily a steamer
was starting the next day for Kurrachee and Bombay, in which we all took
passage, and where we safely ended our eventful voyage.

It may be of interest to some of my readers to know that since I got my
command Miss Reed has changed her name for mine, and that we are very
happy.

There was a court of inquiry held at Bombay to ascertain the cause of
the loss of the _Serampore_, and the finding of the court was that
Captain Skeed and his officers were exonerated from all blame, the ship
having been lost "by default of the engineer."

THE KING OF SPAIN'S WILL

BY JOHN BLOUNDELLE-BURTON

CHAPTER I

I can tell you there was a pretty bustle around Paris that night when
the news came of the downfall of the old Fox--the fox being none other
than Cardinal Alberoni, who had just been turned out of Spain for his
intrigues, King Philip V. having had enough of him. Not that the man,
who had been a gardener's son, and a sort of buffoon once to the Duke of
Parma, was so wondrous old, since in this year of grace 1719 he was but
fifty-five. Only, when a man is a scheming knave, who has passed his
full prime, and is also a fox--why, one generally calls him an old one.

Now, the news of Alberoni's disgrace at Madrid came first to us at
Versailles, just about four of the afternoon, what time we of the Grey
Musketeers were going off duty, our place till midnight being taken by
those of the cavalry regiment of Vermandois, which had arrived a week
ago from Blois--came at the hands of the Comte St. Denis de Pile, who
had been sent off post-haste to Paris with the information, and also
with another piece of intelligence, at which, I protest, not one of us
could help laughing, serious enough though the thing was. This news
being none other than that the crafty old Italian, who was on his way to
Marseilles, there to embark with all his wealth for his native land, had
absolutely carried off in his possession the will of the late King of
Spain, Charles II., in which he bequeathed his throne to the very man
who now sat upon it.

"And," exclaimed St. Denis de Pile, as he drank down a flask of Florence
wine which we produced for him in the guard-room, "I'll be sworn that he
means to send that will to the Emperor of Austria, who, if he is not a
fool, will at once destroy it. And then, poof! poof! poof!" and the
Count blew out his moustache in front of his lip, "what becomes of all
that we fought for in the War of the Succession? _Tête de mon chien!_ it
will have to begin all over again. Your countrymen, my boy," and he
slapped me affectionately on the shoulder, for we had met often enough
before, "your countrymen, the English, will want another war, King
George may be willing enough to oblige them, and the Treaty of Utrecht
may as well be used to light a fire."

Now here was what some of my countrymen call a pretty kettle of fish.
Peace was expected to be proclaimed in Europe at this moment, since the
war of the Pyrenees was over. France and England were sworn allies and
bosom friends, otherwise be sure that I, an Englishman, young and
enthusiastic, would not have been holding the commission of a cornet in
the Musketeers, and serving the Regent, or, rather, the boy king for
whom he ruled. And all in a moment it was just as likely as not that
that war might break out again through the craftiness of the Cardinal,
who, since he had fallen, evidently did not mean to do so without
pulling others down with him. For Austria had never willingly resigned
her claims on the throne of Spain, remembering that the old French King
had once formally waived all the claims of his own family to it, Will or
no Will, and had then instantly asserted them on the death of Charles;
while for my country--well! we English are not over fond of retreating
from anything we have undertaken, though, for widely-known
considerations not necessary to set down here, we had at last agreed to
that peace of Utrecht, our having thoroughly beaten the French by sea
and land before we did so, being, perhaps, the reason why we at last
came in.

"What's to be done?" said old D'Hautefeuille now, who was in command of
the Grey Musketeers at this time.

"What? What? _Le Debonnaire_ is at the Palais Royal--he must know the
news at once. De Pile, you must ride on to Paris."

"_Fichtre_ for Paris!" exclaimed the Count. "I am battered enough
already with my long ride. Think on't--from Madrid! Through storms and
burning suns, over mountains and through plains, over two hundred
leagues and across half a score of horses' backs. Also, observe--the
letter is inscribed to the Regent's Grace at Versailles. I have done my
duty----"

"But----"

"No 'buts,' D'Hautefeuille. My work is done. Let the King's lieutenant
of Versailles, who commands in his and the Regent's absence, take charge
of the paper. For me a bottle and a meal, also a bed."

"Then take it to the lieutenant," said fiery D'Hautefeuille; "hand it to
him yourself, and bid him find a courier to Paris. _Peste_! you, a royal
messenger who can ride from Madrid here, and yet cannot finish the
journey to Paris! Bah! go and get your bottle and your bed--and much
good may they do you."

Whereon the old fellow turned grumpily away, bidding some of the younger
ones amongst us not to be loitering about the galleries endeavouring to
catch the eyes of the maids of honour, but, instead, to get off to our
quarters and be ready to relieve the officers of the Vermandois regiment
at midnight.

Yet, one amongst us, at least, was not to hear the chimes of midnight
summoning us to the night guard, that one being myself, as you shall
see. Nay, not one hour later was to ring out from the palace clock ere,
as luck would have it, I was called forth from my own quarters--or
rather from the little salon of Alison de Prie (who was a maid of
honour, and who had invited me in to partake of a _pâté de bécasse_
which her father had sent her from his property near Tours) by an order
to attend on D'Hautefeuille in his quarters.

Whereon I proceeded thither and found him in a very bad temper--a thing
he suffered much from lately, since he also suffered from a gout that
teased him terribly. Then, immediately, he burst out on my putting in an
appearance.

"Now, Adrian Trent, it is your month of special service, is it not?"

"It is, monsieur," I answered, wondering what was coming next.

"So! very well. Here then is something for you to do--that is, if the
turning of my officers into couriers and post-boys and lackeys
constitutes 'special service.' However, three creatures have to obey
orders in this world, soldiers, wives, and dogs, therefore I--and
you--must do so. Here, take this," and he tossed to me across his table
a mighty great letter on which was a formidable red seal--"have your
horse saddled and be off with you to Paris. Give it into the Regent's
hand. It is the account of Alberoni's disgrace which that _fainéant_ De
Pile could bring all this way, but no farther. Away with you! The King's
lieutenant seems to think that De Pile is discharged of his duty here.
Away with you! What are you stopping for? You know the road to Paris, I
suppose? You ought to. It's hard enough to keep you boys out of it if I
give you an afternoon's leave. Be off!"

So off I went, and five minutes afterwards my best grey, La Rose, was
saddled, and I was riding swiftly towards where the Regent was at the
present moment.

Now, who'd have thought when I went clattering through Sèvres and Issy,
on that fine winter afternoon, in all the bravery of my full
costume--which was the handsomest of any regiment in France, not even
excepting our comrades of the Black Musketeers--who'd have thought, I
say, that I was really taking the first steps of a long, toilsome
journey, which, ere it was ended, was to bring me pretty near to danger
and death? However, no need to anticipate, since those who read will
see.

An hour later I was in Paris, and then, even as I went swiftly along
amidst the crowds that were in the streets, especially in those streets
round about the Palais Royal, I found that one thing was very certain,
namely, that though I might be now carrying on De Pile's message from
the Court of Spain to the Court of France, the purport of it was already
known. Near the Palais Royal were numerous groups gathered, who cheered
occasionally for France and England, which did me good to hear; then for
Spain and France, which did not move me so much; while, at the same
time, I distinctly heard Alberoni's name mentioned, with, attached to
it, expressions and epithets that were anything but flattering. Also, as
I made for the entrance opposite the Louvre, people called attention to
me, saying, "_Voila le beau Mousquetaire--chut_! doubtless he rides from
Versailles. Brings confirmation of the old trickster's downfall. _Ho! le
beau Mousquetaire_." While a strident-voiced buffoon cried out to me,
asking if all my gold galloon and feathers and lace did not sometimes
get spoilt by the damp of the wintry weather, and another desired to
know if my sweetheart did not adore me in my regimental fallals?

However, La Rose made her way through them all, shaking her bridle-chain
angrily if any got before her, breathing out great gusts from her fiery
nostrils, and casting now and again the wicked white of her eye around;
she was a beauty who loved not to be pestered or interfered with. And at
last I was off her back, at the door near the Regent's apartments on the
south side, and asking for the officer of the guard; and half-an-hour
later I was in the presence of the Regent himself, who sat writing in a
little room about big enough to make a cage for a bird. Yet, in spite of
the way in which his Highness spent his evenings and nights, and also of
his supper parties and other dissipations, he did as much work in that
little cabinet as any other twelve men in France.

Because he was a very perfect gentleman--no matter what his faults were
(he answered for them to his Maker but a little while after I met
him)--he treated me exactly as though I were his equal, and bade me be
seated while he read the letter calmly; then, looking up at me, he
said--

"I knew something of this before. Even my beloved Parisians know of
it--how _they_ have learnt it Heaven alone can say. Still it is known.
Alberoni was to leave Madrid in forty-eight hours from the time of
receiving notice. But----"

Here he paused, and seemed to be reflecting deeply. Then he said aloud,
though more to himself than to me, "I wonder if he _has_ got the will?"

It not being my place to speak, I said nothing, waiting to receive
orders from him. And a moment later he again addressed me.

"You _mousquetaires_ have always the best of horses and are proud of
them. I know; I know. I have seen you riding races against each other at
Versailles and Marly. And, for endurance, they will carry you far, both
well and swiftly, in spite of your weight and trappings. Is it not so?"

"It is so, monseigneur," I answered, somewhat wonderingly, and not quite
understanding what way this talk tended.

"How fast can you go? Say--a picked number of you--ten--twenty--go for
two days?"

"A long way, monseigneur. Perhaps, allowing for rest for the animals,
nearer forty than thirty leagues."

"So! Nearer forty than thirty leagues. 'Tis well."

Here he rose from his chair (I, of course, rising also), turned himself
round, and gazed at a map of France hanging on the wall; ran, too, his
finger along it from the Pyrenees in the direction of Marseilles, while,
as he did so, he muttered continually, yet loud enough to be quite
audible to me--

[Illustration: "Ran his finger along a map of France."]

"He would cross there--there, surely. Fifteen days to quit Spain, two to
quit Madrid--seventeen altogether. From the fifth. The fifth! This is
the twelfth. Ten days still."

Then he continued to run his finger along the coast line of the
Mediterranean until it rested on Marseilles, at which he stood gazing
for some time. But now he said nothing aloud for me to listen to, though
it was evident enough that he was considering deeply; but at last he
spoke again.

"His Eminence must be met and escorted--yes, escorted--that is
it--escorted in safety through the land. Ay, in safety and safely. He
must not be molested nor--" while, though he turned his face away to
gaze at the map again, I would have been sworn that I heard him
mutter--"allowed to depart quite yet." Then he suddenly said, "Do you
know the house of the Chevalier de Marcieu? It is in the Rue des Mauvais
Garçons."

"I know the street, monseigneur. I can find the house."

"Good! Therefore proceed there at once--the number is three--you are
mounted, of course? Give my orders to him that he is to come here
instantly; then return and I will give you some instructions for your
commander."

Whereon I bowed respectfully as I went to the door, the Regent smiling
pleasantly upon me. Yet, ere I left him, he said another word, asked a
question.

"You _mousquetaires gris_ have not had much exercise lately at
Versailles, I think. Have you?"

"No, monseigneur, not our troop at least. The men have been but recently
remounted."

"So. Very well. You shall have some exercise now. 'Twill do you good.
You shall have a change of billet for a little while. In any case,
Versailles is too luxurious a place for soldiers. Now, away with you to
Marcieu's house and bid him come here. Return also yourself. Forget not
that."

CHAPTER II

A GIRL CALLED DAMARIS

A week later, or, to be exact, six days, and the troop of Grey
Musketeers, commanded by Captain the Vicomte de Pontgibaud--which was
the one in which I rode as cornet--was making its way pleasantly enough
along the great southern road that runs down from Paris to Toulouse.
Indeed, we were very near that city now, and expected to be in it by the
time that the wintry evening had fallen. In it, and safely housed for
the night, not forgetting that the suppers of Southern France are most
excellent and comforting meals, and that the Lunel and Roussillon are
equally suited to the palate of a soldier, even though that soldier be
but twenty years old; as I was in those days, now, alas! long since
vanished.

But, ere I go on with what I have to tell, perhaps you would care to
hear in a few words how I, Adrian Trent, an Englishman, am riding as
_cornette_ or _porte drapeau_ in a _corps d'élite_ of our old hereditary
enemies, the French. Well, this is how it was. The Trents have ever been
Royalists, by which I mean that they and I, and all of our thinking,
were followers of the House of Stuart. Now, you who read this may be one
of those--or your father may have been one of those--who invited the
Elector of Hanover to come over and ascend the English throne, or you
may be what my family and I are at the present moment, Jacobites. Never
mind for that, however. You can keep your principles and we will keep
ours, and need not quarrel about them. Suffice it, therefore, if I say
that _our_ principles have led us to quit England and to take up our
abode in France. And if ever King James III. sits on--However, no matter
for that either; it concerns not this narrative.

My father was attached to the court of this King, who was just then in
temporary residence in Rome--though, also, he sojourned some time in
Spain--but, ere he followed his sovereign's errant fortunes, he obtained
for me my guidon in the Musketeers, which service is most agreeable to
me, who, from a boy, had sworn that I would be a soldier or nothing;
while, since I cannot be an English one, I must, perforce, be in the
service of France. And, as I trust that never more will France and
England be flying at each other's throats, I do hope that I may long
wear the uniform of the regiment. If not--But of that, too, we will not
speak.

To get on with what I have to tell, we rode into Toulouse just as the
winter day was coming to an end, and a brave show we made, I can assure
you, as we drew up in the great courtyard of the old "Taverne du Midi,"
a place that had been the leading hostelry ever since the dark ages. For
in that tavern, pilgrims, knights on their road to Rome and even the
Holy Land, men of different armies, wandering minstrels and troubadours,
had all been accustomed to repose; even beggars and monks (who paid for
nothing) could be here accommodated, if they chose to lie down in the
straw amongst the horses and sing a good song in return for their
supper.

And I do protest that, on this cold December night, when the icicles
were hanging a foot long from the eaves, and bitter blasts were blowing
all around the city--the north-east winds coming from away over the
Lower Alps of Savoy--you might have thought that you were back again in
those days, if you looked around the great _salle-à-manger_ of the
tavern. For in that vast room was gathered together a company which
comprised as many different kinds of people as any company could have
consisted of when met together in it in bygone ages. First, there was
the nobleman who, because he was one, had had erected round his corner a
great screen of arras by his domestics; such things being always carried
in France by persons of much distinction, since they could neither
endure to be seen by the commoner orders, nor, if they had private
rooms, could they endure to look upon the bare whitewashed walls of the
rooms, wherefore the arras was in that case hung on those walls. This
great man we did not set eyes on, he being enshrouded in his haughty
seclusion, but there was plenty else to be observed. Even now, in these
modern days of which I write, there were monks, travellers, a fantoccini
troupe, some other soldiers besides ourselves, they being of the
regiment of Perche, the intendant of the solitary lord, and ourselves.
Our troopers alone numbered twenty, they having a table to themselves;
while we, the officers, viz., the captain (De Pontgibaud), the
lieutenant (whose name was Camier), and I (the cornet), had also a table
to ourselves.

Yet, too, there was one other, and, if only from her quaint garb, a very
conspicuous person. This was a girl--and a mighty well-favoured girl
too--dark, with her hair tucked up all about her head; with superb full
eyes, and with a colour rich and brilliant as that of the Provence rose.
She made good use of those eyes, I can tell you, and seemed nothing loth
to let them encounter the glance of every one else in the room. For the
rest, she was a sort of wandering singer and juggler, clad in a short
spangled robe, carrying a _tambour de basque_ in her hand, while by her
side hung a coarse canvas bag, in which, as we soon saw, she had about a
dozen of conjuring balls.

"Who is that?" asked De Pontgibaud of the server, as he came near our
table bearing in his hand a succulent _ragôut_, which was one of our
courses--"who and what? A traveller, or a girl belonging to Toulouse?"

"Oh!" said the man, with the true southern shrug of his shoulders,
"that!--_elle_! She is a wandering singer, a girl called Damaris. On her
road farther south. Pray Heaven she steals nothing. She is as like to if
she has the chance. A purse or even a spoon, I'll wager. If I were the
master she should not be here. Yet, she amuses the company. Sings love
ballads and such things, and juggles with those balls. Ha! giglot," he
exclaimed, seeing the girl jump off the table she had been sitting on,
talking to a bagman, and come towards us, "away. The gentlemen of the
_mousquetaires_ require not your company."

"Ay, but they do though," the girl called Damaris said, as she drew
close to where we sat. "Soldiers like amusement, and I can amuse them.
Pretty gentlemen," she went on, "would you like a love song made in
Touraine, or to see a trick or two? Or I have a snake in a box that can
do quaint things. Shall I go fetch it--it will dance if I pipe----"

"To confusion with your snake!" exclaimed the waiting man, "we want no
snakes here. Snakes, indeed----!"

"Well, then, a love song. This pretty boy," and here she was forward
enough to fix her eyes most boldly on me, "looks as if he would like a
love song. How blue his eyes are!"

Alas! they are somewhat dim and old now, but then, because I was young
and foolish, and because my eyes _were_ blue, I felt flattered at this
wandering creature's remark. However, without waiting for an answer, she
went on.

"Come, we will have a trick first. Now," she said, pulling out three of
the balls from her bag, "you hold that ball, _mon enfant_--thus," and
she put one red one--the only red one--into my hand. "You have it?"

"Yes," I said, "I have it;" and, because it was as big as a good-sized
apple, I closed my two hands over it.

"You are sure?"

"Certain."

"Show it then." Whereon I opened my hands again, and, lo! it was a gilt
ball and not a red one that was in them.

"Show that trick to me," said a voice at my back, even as De Pontgibaud
and Camier burst out a-laughing, and so, too, did some of the people in
the great hall who were supping, while I felt like a fool. "Show that
trick to me." And, looking round, I saw that it was the Chevalier de
Marcieu who had spoken; the man to whom the Regent had sent me, and who
had ridden from Paris with us as a sort of civilian director, or guide;
the man from whom we were to take our orders when acting as guard to
Alberoni when he passed this way, presuming that we had the good
fortune to encounter his Eminence; he who was to be responsible for the
safety of the Cardinal.

Now, he knew well enough that we of the _mousquetaires gris_ did not
like him, that we regarded him as a spy--which, in truth, he was, more
or less--and that his company was not absolutely welcome to us.
Wherefore, all along the road from Paris he had kept himself very much
apart from us, not taking his meals at our table--where he was not
wanted!--and riding ever behind the troop, saying very little except
when necessary. But now he had evidently left the table at which he ate
alone and had come over to ours, drawn there, perhaps, by a desire to
witness the girl's performances.

"No," she said, "I shall not show it to you. I do not do the same trick
twice. But, if you choose, I will fetch my little snake. Perhaps that
would amuse _you_."

"I wish to see that trick with the red ball," said De Marcieu quietly,
taking no notice whatever of her emphasis on the word "you." "Show it to
me."

For answer, however, she dropped the balls into the bag, and, drawing up
a vacant chair which stood against our table--she was a free and easy
young woman, this!--said she was tired, and should do no more tricks
that night. Also, she asked for some of our Roussillon as a payment for
what she had done. Whereupon Camier poured her out a gobletful and
passed it over to her, which, with a pretty little bow and grimace, she
took, drinking our healths saucily a moment later.

Meanwhile I was eyeing this stroller and thinking that she was a vastly
well-favoured one in spite of her brown skin, which, both on face and
hands, was a strange colour, it not being altogether that wholesome,
healthy brown which the winds and sun bring to those who are always in
the open, but, instead, a sort of muddy colour, so that I thought,
perhaps, she did not use to wash overmuch--which, maybe, was like
enough. Also, I wondered at the shapeliness of her fingers and hands,
the former being delicate and tapering, and the nails particularly well
kept. Likewise, I observed something else that I thought strange. Her
robe--for such it was--consisted of a coarse, russet-coloured Nîmes
serge, such as the poor ever wear in France, having in it several tears
and jags that had been mended roughly, yet, all the same, it looked new
and fresh--too new, indeed, to have been thus torn and frayed. Then,
also, I noticed that at her neck, just above the collar of her dress,
there peeped out a piece of lace of the finest quality, lace as good as
that of my steinkirk or the ruffles of a dandy's frills. And all this
set me a-musing, I know not why.

Meanwhile Marcieu was persistent about that red ball, asking her again
and again to try the trick on him, and protesting in a kind of rude
good-humour that she did not dare to let him inspect the ball, since she
feared he would discover some cunning artifice in it which would show
how she made it change from red to gilt.

"Bah!" she replied, "I can do it with anything else. Here, I will show
you the trick with other balls." Whereon, as she spoke, she drew out two
of the gilt ones and said, "Now, hold out your hands and observe. See,
this one has a scratch on it; that one has none. Put the second in your
hand and I will transfer the other in its place."

"Nay," said the chevalier; "you shall do it with the red or not at all."

"I will conjure no more," she said pettishly. Then she snatched up the
goblet of wine, drank it down at a gulp, and went off out of the room,
saying--

"Good-night, _mousquetaires_. Good-night, Blue Eyes," and, I protest,
blew me a kiss with the tips of her fingers. The sauciness of these
mountebanks is often beyond belief.

The chevalier took the vacant chair she had quitted, though no one
invited him to do so, his company not being desired by any of us, and
Pontgibaud, calling for a deck of cards, challenged Camier to a game of
piquet. As for me, I sat with my elbows on the table watching them play,
though at the same time my eye occasionally fell on the spy, and I
wondered what he was musing upon so deeply. But, presently, he called
the drawer over to him and gave an order for some drink to be brought
(since none of us had passed him over the flask, we aristocratic
_mousquetaires_ not deeming a _mouchard_ fit bottle-companion for us),
and when it came he turned his back to the table at which we sat, and
asked the man a question in a low voice; though not so low a one but
that I caught what he said, and the reply too.

"Where is that vagrant disposed of?" he asked. "With those other
vagabonds, I suppose," letting his eye fall on the members of the
fantoccini troupe, "or in one of the stables."

"Nay, nay," the server said, "she is not here, but at the 'Red Glove' in
the next street. She told me to-night that that was her headquarters
until she had visited every inn and tavern in Toulouse and earned some
money. Then she will go on to Narbonne."

"So! The 'Red Glove.' A poor inn that, is it not?"

Whereon the man said it was good enough for a wandering ballad-singer
anyhow, and went off swiftly to attend to another order at the end of
the room, while Marcieu sat there sipping his drink, but now and again
casting his eye also over some tablets which he had drawn out of his
pocket.

But at this time nine o'clock boomed forth from the tower of the
cathedral hard by, which we had noticed as we rode in, and Pontgibaud
gave the troopers their orders to betake themselves to their beds; also
one to me to go to the stables and see that all the horses were
carefully bestowed for the night, since, though the troop-sergeant had
made his report that such was the case, he required confirmation of it.
Wherefore I went to the end of the room, and, taking my long grey
_houppelande_, or horseman's cloak (which we _mousquetaires_, because we
always had the best of everything, wore trimmed with costly grey fur), I
donned it, and was about to go forth to the stables when I heard
Pontgibaud's voice raised somewhat angrily as he spoke to the chevalier.

[Illustration: "We are soldiers, not----"]

"_Fichtre_ for such an arrest!" I heard him say, while the few strangers
who had not gone to their beds--as most had done by now--cast their eyes
in the direction where he and Marcieu were. "Not I! Body of my father!
what do you take my gentlemen of the _mousquetaires_ to be? Exempts!
police! Bah! Go to La Poste. Get one of their fellows to do it. We are
soldiers, not----"

"I have the Regent's orders," Le Marcieu replied quietly, "to arrest him
or any one else I see fit. And, Monsieur le Vicomte, it is to assist me
that your 'gentlemen of the _mousquetaires_' are here in Toulouse--have
ridden with me from Paris. I must press it upon you to do as I desire."

Now, I could not wait any longer, since I had my orders from Pontgibaud
to repair to the stables and see that the chargers were comfortable for
the night, and as, also, I saw a glance shoot out of his eye over the
other's head which seemed to bid me go on with my duty. Upon which I
went out to the yard, noticing that the snow was falling heavily, and
that it was like to be a hard winter night--went out accompanied by a
stableman carrying a lantern.

"Give it me," I said, taking the lamp from him, "I will go the round
myself. Also the key, so that I can lock the door when I have made
inspection."

"Nay, monsieur," he answered, "the door cannot be locked. The inn is
full; other travellers' horses are in the stable; they may be required
at daybreak."

"Very well," I replied, "in that case one of our men must be roused and
put as guard over the animals; they are too valuable to be left alone in
an open stable," and, as I spoke, I thought particularly of my beautiful
La Rose, for whom I had paid a hundred pistoles a year ago. Then I gave
the fellow a silver piece and bade him go get a drink to warm himself
with on this winter night, and entered the stable.

The whinny which La Rose gave as I went in showed me where all our
horses were bestowed, and I proceeded down to the end of the stable,
observing when I got there that they were all well housed for the night,
and their straw clean and fresh; while, as the glimmer of the lamp
proclaimed, they had been properly groomed and attended to. Everything
was very well. Wherefore, giving my own mare the piece of sugar I had
brought for her, I made for the door again, observing that Le Marcieu's
red roan, a wiry but serviceable beast, was in a stall nearer to the
entrance.

[Illustration: "Not so fast, mademoiselle, not so fast. What are you
doing here?"]

Then suddenly, as I raised the lantern to give a second glance at it, to
my astonishment I saw the singing-girl, Damaris, dart out swiftly from
near that stall and endeavour to push by me and escape through the door;
which, however, I easily prevented her from doing, since I seized her at
once by the arm and held her, while I exclaimed, "Not so fast,
mademoiselle, not so fast. What are you doing here?--you, who are at the
'Red Glove' and have no business whatever in these stables."

"WHEN THE STEED HAS FLOWN"

At first she struggled a little, then all of a sudden she took a
different tack, and exclaimed, "How dare you touch me, fellow. You--a
common _mousquetaire_--to lay your hands on me! You! you! Let
go--or----"

However, I had let go of her by now through astonishment at her
impertinence. A common _mousquetaire_, indeed!--a common
_mousquetaire_!--when, in all our regiment, there was scarce a trooper
riding who was not of gentle blood--to say nothing of the officers.

"I may be 'a common _mousquetaire_,'" I replied, as calmly as I could,
"yet, all the same, commit no rudeness to a wandering ballad-singer whom
I find in the stable where our horses are; and----"

"Why!" she exclaimed, with a look (I could see it by the rays of the
lantern) that was, I'll be sworn, as much a pretence as her words--"why!
'tis Blue Eyes. Forgive me; I thought it was one of your men--I--I--did
not know you in your great furred cloak. It becomes you vastly well,
Blue Eyes," and the hussy smiled up approvingly at me.

"Does it?" I said. "No doubt. Yet, nevertheless, I want an explanation
of what you are doing in these stables at night, in the dark, when you
are housed at the 'Red Glove';" and I spoke all the more firmly because
I felt certain that she had not taken me for one of the troopers at all.

"Imbecile!" she exclaimed petulantly, and for all the world as if she
was speaking to an inferior. "Imbecile! Idiot! Since you know I am at
the 'Red Glove,' don't you know too that they have no stabling for us
who put up there, and that the travellers' cattle are installed here?
Oh, Blue Eyes, you are only a simple boy!"

"No, I don't know it!" I exclaimed, a little dashed at this
intelligence; "but, pardon me, I would not be ill mannered--only--do
ladies of your calling travel on horseback? I thought you wandered on
foot from town to town giving your entertainments."

"I do not travel on horseback, but on muleback. There are such things as
four-footed mules as well as two-footed ones, Blue Eyes. I assure you
there are. And here is mine; look at it. Isn't it a sorry beast to be in
company with the noble steeds of the aristocratic _mousquetaires_?"

"Oh, it's 'aristocratic' now, is it?" I thought to myself, "not 'common'
_mousquetaires_," running my eye over the mule she pointed out, even as
I held the lantern on high. Only, as I did so, I saw it was not a sorry
beast at all; instead, a wiry, clean-limbed Pyrenean mule, whose
hind-legs looked as though they could spring forward mighty fast if
wanted; in truth, an animal that looked as if it could show its heels
to many of its nobler kin, namely horses. But, also, I observed that its
saddle was on, and that the halter was not fastened to the rack.

"Well, you see?" she said, looking at me with her mocking smile, and
showing all her pretty white teeth as she did so. "You see? Now, Blue
Eyes, let me go. I am tired and sleepy, and I want to go to bed."

This being sufficient explanation of her presence in the stables, there
was no further reason why I should detain her and I said she might go,
while, even as I spoke, I fastened up the halter for her. After which we
went out into the yard, where we bade each other a sort of good-night, I
doing so a little crossly since I was still sore at her banter, and she,
on her part, speaking in still her mocking, gibing manner.

"And where do you go to," she asked, "after this? Eh, Blue Eyes? I
should like to see you some day again, you know. I like you, Blue Eyes,"
and as she spoke I wondered what impish kind of thought was now in her
mind, for she was standing close to me, and seemed to be emphasising her
remarks about her liking for me by clutching tight my _houppelande_ in
her hand.

"That," I said, "is, if you will excuse me, our affair. Good-night; I
hope you will sleep well at the 'Red Glove.'" Then, because I did not
want to part in anger from the volatile creature, and because I was a
soldier to whom such licence is permissible, I said, "Adieu,
sweetheart."

"Sweetheart!" she exclaimed, turning round on me. "Sweetheart! You dare
to speak to me thus--you--you--you base--" But, just as suddenly as she
had flown out at me like a spitfire, she changed again, saying,
"_Peste_! I forget--I am only a poor wandering vagrant. I did not mean
that. I--I am sorry." And, as she vanished round the corner of the yard
into the street, I heard her laugh and say softly, though loud enough,
"Good-night, Blue Eyes; adieu--_sweetheart_;" and again she laughed as
she disappeared.

Now, all this had taken some little time, as you may well suppose, so
that the great clock of the Cathedral of St. Etienne was striking ten as
I re-entered the inn and went on to the large guests'-room, or _salle_.
It was empty at this time of all the sojourners in the house, except the