Although the day had opened fine and bright, the evening had brought with it an unwelcome change in the weather. A south-westerly gale, blowing straight from the English Channel, swept across the land, accompanied by heavy downpours of rain and hail; while ever and anon vivid flashes of lightning, followed by deafening peals of thunder that shook the house to its foundations, would pierce the darkness of the night.
For more than an hour I remained at my window, watching the flashes play upon the distant trees of the forest, or light up the rolling expanse of gorse-clad heath. So fierce was the wind that the branches of a tree close to my casement were lashed violently against the thatch, while a tall elm at the edge of the lawn had been uprooted, and lay athwart the sodden road.
At length the storm receded, and, tired out, I sought repose.
It must have been some time betwixt midnight and dawn, for 'twas still dark, when I awoke with a start and a vague feeling that something was amiss.
I had, according to custom, left the casement slightly ajar, the frame being secured by an iron quadrant. This contrivance fitted tightly, and 'twould be impossible for it to move of itself; yet I heard the creaking of the metalwork as the casement was slowly and cautiously opened, for the wind had now died utterly away, and all else was still save for the pattering of the water from the eaves.
Overcome by a nameless terror, I lay motionless in my bed, thinking 'twas the Evil One coming in person to bear me bodily away.[1]
Slowly a dark, sinister figure, barely distinguishable against the gloom without, crept silently through the now open window, past the foot of my bed, and out by the unlatched door of the room, smothering as it did so a sneeze.
That sneeze aroused my courage, for never in all the worthy Doctor Colling's discourses had I heard of the Evil One sneezing. The intruder was a robber!
However, I remained silent and motionless till the unwelcome stranger had time to get clear of the room; then, boldly springing out of bed, I crept softly to my father's room.
At the first touch of my hand he was wide-awake, thanks once more to his active life afloat, but had the good sense to refrain from speaking aloud.
In a few words I explained the situation, and without hesitation he sprang from his bed, armed himself with a petronel, and hastened downstairs to surprise and, if possible, capture the intruder, I following closely and silently at his heels.
But in the few minutes of undisturbed action the robber had not been idle, for ere my father gained the lowermost stair he tripped suddenly over a broom handle cunningly placed there for that purpose, and falling headlong, the petronel exploded with a vivid flash and a stunning report, the bullets crashing through the wainscot.
In a moment he was on his feet again, only to meet the robber as he dashed for freedom. In the darkness I heard the sounds of a furious struggle, but, being unable to distinguish friend from foe, I was compelled to stand inactive and useless:
Suddenly there was an exclamation of pain, followed by a heavy thud, and the next instant I was thrust violently against the wall as a powerful, agile figure tore past me and up the staircase.
A terrific crash of broken glass was followed by the shrieks of old Martha and groans in the darkness, while I heard Captain Jeremy rushing from his room, shouting for lights to be brought.
When at length we found tinder and steel and a light was provided, my father was seen lying on his face, bleeding profusely from a wound in the right side.
"Water!" he gasped feebly. "I am done for!" and before we could raise him from the floor he had swooned.
Jeremy, cursing loudly, was at first for pursuing the murderous villain who had dealt the fell blow, but pursuit was not to be thought of when we saw my father's desperate condition. Fearing to carry him upstairs to his own chamber, we lifted him into the dining-room, where we placed his senseless form on a roughly-constructed couch.
Constance had now joined us, and though trembling with fear and anxiety, she alone suggested the wisest course.
"Run, Clifford, for a chirurgeon!" she exclaimed, and, hatless and shoeless, though I had found time to don my clothing, I tore over the sodden fields to the house of Master Blackwood, who lived well on the outskirts of the village.
Seeing the case was urgent, though I could but babble an incoherent summons, the surgeon came quickly; and having made a hasty examination, the grave look on his clear-cut features showed that my sire was in dire peril of death.
Having dressed the wound, Master Blackwood applied himself to restoring his patient to consciousness, and while this was being done my glance fell upon the picture--or, rather, the frame--that my father had bought but a few short hours ago.
The painting was missing, cut from the frame by a sharp knife. Almost at the same time Captain Miles noticed the empty frame, and, in spite of his accustomed coolness, his jaw dropped.
"Alack-a-day! A sorry pass! 'Tis the friar's curse come home," he muttered huskily.
Slowly the pale dawn struggled for the mastery with the feeble flicker of the rushlight till, in a mantle of vivid crimson hue, the sun rose red and angry in the eastern sky.
Then, and only then, could we see the full extent of the mischief that the robber had wrought. That the precious chart had been the object of his entry there could be no doubt, for in the short space of time ere he was disturbed he had made straight for the painting that formerly concealed the parchment.
The shattered broomstick, a dark pool of blood at the foot of the stairs, and the shot-marked wainscot were silent evidences of the tragedy; while I found the hilt of a knife wedged firmly in the wall, close to where I was hurled by the escaping miscreant.
Then I remembered the incident, and to my surprise I found that I had a clean cut in the right shoulder. Though it had bled somewhat, in my excitement I had been unaware of it; yet 'twas a narrow escape.
"There's more behind this affair than we wot of," remarked Captain Jeremy. "The rogue had doubtless watched us through the window whilst your father and I were talking of the matter of the treasure, for I bear to mind the shutters were not drawn. Then, finding that the iron bars across the lower windows prevented him from entering save by much labour and trouble, he scaled the tree without your casement and entered your room. But, Clifford, sorry though I be for your father's plight and sore hurt, 'tis a fortunate thing that the robber was foiled, for, see you, I had the chart with me, placed under my pillow for safety. As for the picture of the oldVenture, 'tis of little account, though I did set some store on it for the sake of bygone times."
"But concerning the robber?" I asked. "If we are to inform the watch there will be danger of your discovery, yet I am loath to let the villain go unhindered."
"'Tis a matter that requires much consideration," he replied gravely. "I call to mind when I was on board the barqueFuriewithin sight of Port Royal. A fire broke out for'ard and threatened to consume us; our longboat and shallop were damaged, while alongside were swarms of sharks. As we could not save ourselves by flight, we fought the flames so determinedly that we put out the fire, though it seemed a well-nigh impossible task."
"And what of it?" I asked perplexedly, for I failed to grasp the Captain's meaning.
"You see, Master Clifford, this house, in a manner of speaking, is the burning craft, the King's officers are the sharks; so, until we know your father's pleasure in this business, I would that nothing be said concerning the affair. Master Blackwood I know to be a stanch and upright man who detests the unlawful practices of King James; he will keep silence. Your sister, also, I know to be circumspect; but I have my doubts about Martha, for the tongues of serving women, especially old ones, are apt to wag."
"I am content to let the matter rest for the present," I replied; and crossing the hall, I laid hold of the knife that was still fixed in the wainscot. It took much strength to wrench it free, and no little care, for the broken blade was as sharp as a razor. The steel was about a span in length, and wet for about half that distance with my father's blood. As I cleaned it, my eyes fell upon some letters engraved upon the blade. Worn though the steel was, I deciphered the letters "...emento mori".
"'Tis perchance the name of the cutler," said Captain Miles, taking the steel out of my hand and examining it carefully.
"Nay; 'tis certain you have not noticed similar words in Lymington Church," I replied. "The first letter is on the other portion of the broken blade, and the completed sentence is the Latin for 'Remember you must die'. I'll have a hilt fitted to this portion, Captain Jeremy, and should ill befall my father, the motto will guide me in the tracing of the villain."
"Strange it may be," remarked the Captain reflectively, "but now I recall an old shipmate of mine who bought a dagger in Lisbon with these words. He was, I remember, an ill-favoured creature."
"Was he short in stature, and bull-necked?" I asked eagerly.
"Nay," replied my companion, shaking his head; "you are on the wrong tack. Your father hath told me of the man you have in mind--the one who would have bought the picture, though, sink me! I cannot imagine why he should set such store on it. Nay; the man, though short in stature, was as thin as a handspike. But, my lad," he said kindly, "you look as white as a sheet. Here, take a turn in the garden, for the place smells like a charnel-house. Keep within ear-shot, lest you are wanted."
With a heavy heart I obeyed, having first obtained Constance's aid in applying a bandage to my wounded shoulder.
The damage done by yesternight's gale was enormous, though I paid little heed to the scene of desolation, but, stepping over the broken branches that everywhere littered the ground, walked round to the back of the house, whence the robber had made his escape.
He had left by the same means as he had entered--through the casement of my room and down the tree that unfortunately provided a ready means of descent. Curiosity prompted me to examine the trunk, and on so doing I found traces of blood on the bark. I noticed that, if viewed from the window, the marks of blood were on the right-hand side of the trunk, and, as the fugitive must have descended with his face towards the bark, 'twas evident that he had been wounded on the right side of his person; and by the quantity of the blood it was further evident that the wound was of a severe nature.
Then the thought flashed across my mind: the villain was sore hurt, his track lay fresh upon the grass; why should I not follow him?
Running back to the house, I loaded my fowling-piece, and calling Bruno, my lurcher, I started in pursuit.
[1] Lest Clifford be thought a weak-minded coward, it is well to explain that previous to and during the seventeenth century there was a strong popular belief in the corporal presence of the Evil One. The study of any contemporary writer will confirm this. A notable example is afforded by the panic of Robinson Crusoe on discovering a dying goat in the darkness of a cave: "I saw two broad shining eyes of some creature, whether devil or man I knew not".
The track was clearly defined, the sinister dark patches showing boldly upon the bright green grass with the utmost regularity. The man had certainly fled in a north-easterly direction, towards Black Down, the densest part of the forest. He had a start of at least six hours, but, even had he not already swooned from loss of blood, this advantage was slight. In my enthusiasm I imagined that the rogue was already my prisoner, marching, with my piece at his head, towards the common jail at Lymington.
The tell-tale line of spots crossed the highway and led on to the gorse-clad heath, but though there were evidences that the fugitive had blundered into many bushes in his flight in the dark, the general direction remained the same. At this I wondered not a little, for from my forest experience I knew that a man crossing an open space in the dark would, without a light or other means to guide him, inevitably make a wide circle, unless he had the sense to keep his course by observing the direction of the wind. Yet I knew that after the storm the wind had died utterly away, so that the circumstance seemed stranger still.
I suppose I had not gone half a mile when, thrown behind some bushes, I espied the picture that the rogue had cut from its frame. There were signs that he had made a lengthy halt, one being a large dark stain upon the damp soil, showing that much blood had been spilled. Another thing I conjectured: he had discovered that the chart was not, as evidently he had imagined, part of the picture, and in his rage he had thrown it aside. That being so, it showed that day had dawned ere he could have become acquainted with the failure of his fell designs.
Making the canvas into a roll, I slipped it into my belt, and continued my way.
On and on I went, sometimes breaking into a run, keeping both a sharp lookout in case of a surprise and a careful watch on the dull brown track, which now began to show at greater intervals than heretofore.
At length my progress was stopped by a narrow, gurgling stream that flowed southwards between gravelly banks lined with bushes and dwarfed trees. This stream I knew to be the Lym, the same that joins the sea at Lymington.
Here I was thwarted, for though I took off my hose and shoes and waded over the clayey bottom, not the slightest track could I find on the farther bank. I walked both up and down stream for nearly a quarter of a mile, carefully examining the soft clay, which would assuredly reveal any trace of footprints after the heavy rain of the previous night; but the bank was innocent of any traces of human agency, though I encountered well-defined marks of ponies, deer, and otters.
Sick at heart, I now bethought me of Captain Jeremy's warning, so, uncocking my piece, I shouldered the weapon and set my face homewards. Bruno, who had followed the trail as keenly as I had done, seemed to share my dejection, for, instead of keeping a few paces ahead as he had done on the outward journey, he stuck close to my heels.
I was not returning by the same path, but rather, I should think, about two hundred yards to the right of it; yet with the smoke of the chimneys of Brockenhurst village to guide me I kept steadily onwards.
Suddenly, almost before I could utter a sound of alarm, the ground gave way beneath me; the bracken and the gorse seemed to shoot up past me, and the daylight gave place to semi-darkness.
Instinctively I clutched at the ledge of the pit, but without avail; then a thousand lights seemed to flash across my eyes, and I lost consciousness.
When I recovered my senses I found myself lying on the sandy floor of a natural cave or hollow, into which the light filtered through an aperture almost above my head--the hole through which I had fallen.
My head throbbed painfully, and, putting my hands to my forehead, I found that it was bound with a wet rag. As I moved my arm Bruno thrust his muzzle against my hand with a low bark of joy; the faithful dog had evidently followed his master in his fall.
I tried to raise myself into a sitting posture, but the exertion was too great, and with a stifled exclamation of pain I fell back.
"Lie still, young maäster," exclaimed a gruff though kindly voice. "You'll be safe enow wi' us."
"Give him a drink o' water," said another. "He'll do better sittin' up."
With that I felt myself raised and propped against the wall of the cave, so that I could look about.
Eight or ten men, dressed in rough clothing, some with peajackets, others in tarpaulins, were either seated on the ground or standing with folded arms regarding me intently. Two or three had pistols stuck in their belts, while a pair of heavy cutlasses and a bundle of stout staves, some with iron spikes, were placed in one corner of the cave, which was roughly three-sided, and formed by hands, as far as I could make out in the subdued light.
In the centre of the cavern was the trunk of a young tree, its upper portion leaning against the aperture overhead, while the branches had been lopped off sufficiently close to the stem to allow of the stumps being used as a rough ladder. Two small casks, an earthenware vessel containing water, a heap of clothing, and a coil of rope completed the utensils of this subterranean retreat.
"You'll be the son of Cap'n Foul-weather Dick?" asked the man who had first spoken.
"Yes," I replied, for my questioner had used the name by which my father was frequently called by the seafaring population of Lymington.
"'Twas well for you I knew it, for when you came tumbling down that hole we thought 'twas the sogers, and Bill 'ere got ready to knock you over th' head. D'ye know me?"
I looked at the man as intently as my throbbing head would allow, then at his companions. Like an inspiration a thought flashed across my mind.
"Yes," I answered. "Ye are the men who went with Captain Miles to the West."
"Aye," said the man referred to as Bill, "an' well we know it. Look 'ee, young maäster, can we trust ye to keep your mouth shut on this business?"
"I have as weighty a matter on my mind now," I replied. "You can count upon my silence."
"The youngster's true enow, 'Enery," said Bill. "Maybe he'll lend us a hand afore long. Look you," he continued, addressing me, "there are but eleven left of the score of Lymington men who marched to help the Duke o' Monmouth. Kitt Binns, Carrol Tanner, Cripps, Fred Dadge--they went down in the fight; young Garge Pitman the red-coated devils took near Bridgwater. They strung him up on a gallows at the roadside. Poor fellow, he didn't half give 'em a rough time afore they did the dirty job, an' I was up to my neck in a ditch an' saw it all, yet couldn't bear a hand to help him. That makes five. What happened to the rest of us we don't know--taken, doubtless, after the fight. Anyways, Cap'n Miles, Joe Scott, Sammy Cross, an' Long Bristowe won't see Lymington again, I fear, though we aren't much better off on that score."
"Captain Miles!" I exclaimed. "Why!----" I broke off, though reasoning that as these men had confided in me, there was little harm in telling them of Captain Jeremy's hiding-place in our house.
"What of him?" asked several of the men.
"He is alive and well; I saw him scarce two hours ago."
"Hurrah!" exclaimed the men, but softly, for they durst not shout lest the noise should betray them.
"Alive and well, say you?" repeated 'Enery, a burly, bearded seaman who, it seemed, had no other name. "'Enery" he answered to, and 'Enery he remains till the close of my story. "But, young maäster, 'tis a good six hours you've been lying 'ere."
"Six hours!" I exclaimed amazedly; then, remembering my father's condition, I attempted to rise.
"Nay, young sir," said Bill, noticing my effort, "you cannot go home without aid, and none can we give till Black Lewis comes. But concerning Captain Jeremy?"
In a few words I told them all I knew of the Captain's adventures, the men eagerly following every word.
"Tell him," said 'Enery, as I finished my story, "that ten stanch men await him here. Cooped up like rats in a hold, we durst not show our faces in Lymington, much less try for a ship; but with Cap'n Jeremy to lead us, we'll shape a true course yet. Tell him also----"
A low cry like the call of a forest stag for its mate broke upon our ears. Twice 'twas repeated.
"'Tis Black Lewis," said one of the men, for my information, and the next instant the bushes overhead were thrust back, and a man began to descend the rough ladder.
Black Lewis gave no sign of surprise at seeing a lad in the cave. I knew him by sight, and also by repute--a short, shrivelled-up little man, with a head that seemed too large and heavy for his body, wrinkled face, massive and protruding cheek bones, and sandy-coloured hair. He lived mainly by his wits, killing adders that infested the forest glades, hawking the skins of animals he caught, and, no doubt, poaching, though he had as yet managed to escape being branded as a felon. Some would have it that he was dullwitted, yet those who thus avowed had often cause to fear his tongue, which was as sharp as a rapier. He was dressed in loose, home-made garments of moleskin, and carried a long forked stick in his hand, not even relinquishing it when he descended the tree trunk. Over his back was strung a canvas bag, from which he produced a hare, some eggs, and a flagon of ale.
He readily consented to assist me to my home, and having bade farewell to the refugee seamen (who had persuaded me to lend them my fowling-piece), I was slung up the shaft by means of the rope, Bruno being carried up on the shoulders of one of the men. Once in the open air I walked strongly, though twice or thrice I reeled, and would have fallen but for my companion's assistance.
At the entrance to our grounds Black Lewis left me, and just as I gained the door Captain Jeremy met me. By the look on his face I knew that some thing was amiss.
"They have searched for you high and low, Master Clifford," said he; "but thanks be you are safe! Come at once and see your father, for----"
"He is not dead?" I asked anxiously.
"Nay, lad, but be prepared for the worst. Master Blackwood says he'll not last the night. If so, he'll pass away before the young flood sets in."
My father had been removed to his room, and was now lying on his bed, his head and shoulders raised and supported by pillows, for the nature of his wound had caused him to fight hard for breath.
He was now quite conscious, though very weak. Captain Jeremy afterwards said that what with cupping and applying leeches Master Blackwood had kept down the fever, but had also done his patient more harm than good.
My father knew full well that the end was at hand, yet he faced it manfully, like the stanch old seaman he was. I fancy his voice faltered when he spoke to me of Constance, but beyond that he was calm and collected, giving me advice as to my future, and preparing himself for the end.
'Tis unnecessary to dwell upon the events of the next few hours, for the remembrance of that mournful time is an affair for the minds of our own family; but just before midnight, at dead low water by the shore, as Captain Jeremy had predicted, my father passed peacefully away.
Neither do I care to relate too minutely the happenings of the following week. There was, according to custom, an inquest, but by mutual consent Captain Jeremy's name was left out of the case, although we were considerably ill at ease lest old Martha should babble on't.
Two days after my father had been laid to rest under the great yew tree in Brockenhurst Churchyard I received a letter from my uncle, John Hammond, stating that, in accordance with arrangements made with my father many years ago, he would take up his abode in our house, and look after the estate.
Captain Jeremy took his departure before my uncle arrived, and joined the party of Lymington seamen in the cave. He gave me his assurance that his understanding with my late parent would remain as before, and that he would, to use his own expression, "keep his weather eye lifting", and endeavour to find a means of procuring a stout craft, in order to prosecute his search for theMadre de Diostreasure.
Shortly after the arrival of my uncle I had an attack of smallpox, which, Heaven be praised! left me unmarked. Master Blackwood, the chirurgeon, tended me with the utmost care, though at the time I feared his remedies more than I did the disorder.
August had run its course, and September was well advanced ere I could get abroad once more, and during that time much had happened relating to the ill-fortuned rising in the West.
Monmouth's head had rolled on the scaffold on Tower Hill, and Jeffreys had completed his circuit of the West, leaving behind him a never-to-be-forgotten record of cruelty, infamy, and shame, while his brutal actions in condemning Lady Alice Lisle to the stake sickened even the most loyal supporters of King James.
Then, and only then, did I realize the risk we had run in harbouring Captain Jeremy; yet I had learnt to look upon him as the one stanch friend in my solitude, and as such I would right willingly take all chances could I but render him further aid.
At the first opportunity, directly I felt strong enough, I crossed the heath and stealthily approached his place of concealment. In vain I gave the call of the red deer, for no welcome reply came from the yawning pit; and when at length I descended by the rude ladder I found the place dank and deserted. Captain Miles and his men had gone--whither?--to bondage, or to freedom?
Neither did I from that day set eyes on Black Lewis; he, too, had vanished, and thus all chance of communicating with the honest Captain seemed to be hopelessly lost.
One afternoon towards the close of September I was sent by my uncle into Lymington to procure some books that an acquaintance had promised him.
It was a blustering day, cold for the time of year, and on the journey I encountered several heavy showers that, for want of shelter, soaked me to the skin. However, I accomplished my errand, and laden with a heavy burden I trudged homewards, having also taken the opportunity of obtaining from a cutler's the blade of the dagger with which my father had been slain, I having left it some weeks before for the purpose of having a hilt fitted to it.
At the outskirts of the village I almost ran into the arms of Captain Jeremy, who was leading a heavy cob by the bridle.
For a few moments I could scarce believe my eyes; yet 'twas he, bold, jovial, and beaming with kindliness as of yore, before that fateful journey to the West.
"What cheer, ho!" he shouted. "I've sought you high and low."
"Oh, Captain Miles!" I exclaimed apprehensively, "is it safe for you to be seen, sir?"
"Safe?" he roared. "Why, safe as a parson's barn. Thanks to my patron Sir William Soams, of whom I have oft spoken beforetimes, and in no small measure to a heavy drain upon my hidden hoard, I've gained a pardon from His Majesty, and now I can flaunt my Lord Chief Justice Jeffreys, or any of his satellites, come what may. I've got a ship, lad! A. goodly vessel--as sweet a little craft as ever you'd clap eyes on betwixt Yarmouth and Bristol. Thanks once again to Sir William Soams, who threw himself into my plans, theGolden Hopehas been chartered to seek theMadretreasure--and I'll warrant Sir William will receive a good per centum on his outlay. She lies at Poole, lad. We sailed her round from Deptford two days agone, I and the ten lads you saw in the hole on Brockenhurst Heath, they having made their way safely one by one to a rendezvous at Wapping; and I've ridden over from Poole to tell you the news, though I am but a sorry horseman."
"You rode well enough when you fled before the dragoons, sir."
"Aye," he replied, with a hearty laugh; "e'en though I rode the farmer's mare to death. It beats me to think how I kept in the saddle that day, and I've fallen thrice on my way hither; yet 'tis strange what a man will do when he's put to it. But can you persuade your uncle to let you ride over to Poole and see theGolden Hopeere we sail? We weigh on Saturday morn, for 'tis, as you know, ill luck to leave port on a Friday."
I shook my head sorrowfully.
"I fear he'll not think of it," I replied. "But, Captain Jeremy, how I wish I were off with you!"
"'Tis not to be thought of, lad. Adventuring in the Indies is no fit business for you. I've spun you yarns times without number, but you've not heard of the dark side of a seaman's life. No, no, Clifford; make the best of things and bide at home, and I'll do my best for you and me."
"But, Captain----"
"No buts, lad; your duty lies at home. Now, say no more on 't, though I would you could see theGolden Hopeere she leaves Poole Harbour. Well, well, the best of friends must say farewell, and so 'tis with us. Please Heaven another couple o' years will see us home once more with the treasure; so good-bye, Clifford."
"Farewell, Captain Jeremy, and God be with you!"
Awkwardly the seaman scrambled into the saddle, urged his nag into a trot, and set off along the Christchurch Road, not daring to look round for fear of losing his seat. I watched him till his burly figure disappeared from view, then slowly I made my way homewards.
"Why have you tarried on your errand, sirrah?" demanded my uncle, as I placed the pile of heavy books on the table. "Hast entered into worldly and unbecoming conversation with that seafaring man who, with many strange oaths on his lips, hath troubled me with his presence? To your room, sir! Supperless you shall go; but before retiring, read, mark, and learn the beautiful discourse on procrastination as set forth in this book of godly sermons. To-morrow I'll speak further on this matter."
On the morrow he did more than speak, being a too zealous exponent of King Solomon for my peace of mind; and, smarting under the treatment I had endured, I determined to run away and join, by hook or by crook, the good shipGolden Hope.
I had no sooner made up my mind than I immediately began to take steps to put my plan into execution, for theGolden Hopewas to sail at early morn on the following day, and twenty good miles had to be covered betwixt sunset and sunrise, were I to be in time.
My great regret was that I was unable to let Constance know of my departure; but beyond that I cared little.
I managed to secrete the best part of a loaf, some cheese, and a small flask of milk; and unobserved I secured a lengthy rope, which I hid under my bed.
Longer and more tedious than ever seemed the evening prayers, but at last my uncle bade me retire for the night. I lay abed till I heard him fastening my door on the outside, as was his wont, and go to his room. Then, when all was quiet, I hurriedly dressed, packed my food in a wallet, and prepared to escape by the window. As 'twas a calm moonlight night, the tree that served my father's murderer so timely did not sway sufficiently for me to descend by it, and for that reason I had provided myself with the rope.
This I passed round a leg of the massive bedstead, throwing the two ends out of the casement on to the ground. Noiselessly I slipped out, and grasping both parts of the rope, I descended hand over hand. Then it was an easy matter to pull the rope down after me, so as to remove all traces of my escape, which, I hoped, would prevent my flight being discovered for some hours later than otherwise.
Having hidden the rope, I set out with a rapid stride and beating heart on my long walk to Poole Town.
For the first few miles my route lay over well-known ground, but soon I plunged into the thickest portion of the forest, where the tall branches, meeting overhead, shut out the moonlight. 'Twas a weird journey in the dead of night, with not a sound save my own footsteps and the occasional hooting of an owl in the tree tops.
At length I left the confines of the New Forest, the road continuing hilly yet fair-going; and having gotten well into the swing, I footed it strongly.
Just as I reached the meeting of two fork roads I heard the distant thud of a horse's hoofs, which came rapidly nearer and nearer.
Could my flight have been discovered already?
Plunging through a gap in the bushes I stood, my heart throbbing violently, expecting every moment to see my uncle's manservant on my track; but in a cloud of dust that rose slowly in the bright moonlight a horseman galloped madly past, his hair flying out behind him by reason of his speed through the still night air.
Hardly had he gone past when I again heard the thud of horses' hoofs, and riding apparently in close pursuit came four men, with set faces and loose rein. They, too, disappeared, but I could not summon up courage to resume my way until the last sounds of the pursuers had died away in the dim distance.
Then I came in sight of a town of considerable size, dominated by a lofty square tower. This I guessed rightly to be Christchurch.
On reaching a long stone bridge I halted at one of the recesses to rest awhile, making a meal of the food I had brought, for the walk had made me ravenous.
'Twas a glorious view. Standing out clearly in the moonlight was the long, regular outline of the priory church, the graceful tower of which I had seen a long way down the road. The moonbeams danced on the placid waters of an inland sea, while from farther still, beyond a lofty, flat-topped hill, came the sound of the swell of the English Channel roaring on the sandy shore.
Beneath the bridge flowed the river, swiftly and silently, though oft the stillness was broken by the splash of a lordly salmon. "The stream and I have both the same purpose," thought I. "Each would gain the sea, though by different means."
My reverie was broken by the clatter of horsemen, and fearing to be stopped and questioned, I ran down the approach to the bridge and, vaulting over the low parapet, stood ankle deep in the dewy grass, scarce daring to raise my eyes above the coping.
'Twas the same troop of horsemen I had seen a short while ago, and in their midst, his legs bound beneath his horse's belly, rode the man they had pursued, entreating and reviling his captors almost in the same breath.
Once again I proceeded on my way, keeping close to the side of the main street, where the moon threw deep shadows athwart the cobbles; and once again I was brought to a standstill.
Hobbling down the street was a decrepit old man, muffled in a long cloak. In his left hand he carried a lantern, while his right grasped a halberd--though why thus armed I am at pains to suggest, for so tottering were his footsteps that I could have knocked him down with ease. Neither could he have had good sight, for he passed me, as I stood flattened against a door, within three paces, and, halting in the middle of the road, croaked:
"One o' the clock, and a fine morning, and all's well."
Three hours more and day would be breaking. If I were to be on Poole Quay by sunrise no time must be lost, so directly the way was clear I set off at a steady trot, never stopping till I had gained a second bridge and had reached the foot of a steep hill, from the summit of which I saw I had completely shaken off the dust of Christchurch.
For the next five or six miles 'twas up and down, with occasional glimpses of the sea away on my left; and just as the pale dawn began to glimmer in the east, I saw from the brow of a lofty hill the whole extent of Poole Harbour spread out like a map, the undulating downs that I knew afterwards to be Purbeck Heights being barely visible against the dark grey sky.
Half an hour later I was threading my way down the narrow High Street, guided by the tall masts of the shipping in the harbour.
At length I reached the quay, and stood bewildered by the maze of vessels of all sorts, sizes, and rigs. Although 'twas yet early, there was much bustling about--fishermen returning from their night's work, and men, heavy-eyed as the result of their previous night's carouse, stumbling back to their ships; while already the creaking of tackle and the hoarse shouts of seamen proclaimed that more than one vessel was getting under way.
I had two immediate objects in view. I must avoid Captain Jeremy, for I was very doubtful whether he would take me aboard the Golden Hope. I must also find the ship, and manage to stow myself away till she set sail.
Once more luck was in my favour, for as I made my way along the slippery wharf I espied a large, wall-sided brig, with tall masts, from which the sails hung loosely, awaiting but to be sheeted home. Beneath her small, square stern ports were the wordsGolden Hope.
Even as I looked at her from a safe distance a heavy footstep caused me to turn round, and to my surprise I saw no other than 'Enery.
He recognized me in an instant, and gripping me by the shoulder he exclaimed:
"Avast there, Master Hammond, what brings you here?"
"I've run away from home. Don't betray me, Henry," I replied; "I want to go with Captain Miles, and I'm afraid he'll not take me."
"Say 'Enery an' I'll answer to my name," said the seaman reprovingly. "Why, if so be you wants to go to sea, why shouldn't you? Why shouldn't you, I wants to know?"
"Perchance Captain Jeremy will not see eye to eye with me in that matter; though, once we are fairly out at sea----"
"'Nough said, young maäster. Sink me if I don't do my best, for you were as true as steel to us when we were shut up in that hole in Brockenhurst Heath. Come on, and look sharp about it."
So saying, he led the way to a dirty, disreputable inn situated in a narrow street leading off the quay. Here he spoke a few words to a ferrety, blear-eyed man, handing tankards of spirits to the crowd of seafaring men who thronged there in spite of the time of day.
"Up aloft," said the man, jerking his thumb in the direction of a rough ladder that led to a room above.