I AWOKE to consciousness with the sensation of being tossed upon the waves, though, fortunately, not in them.
I was lying upon the wet deck of a small fishing craft; my head was supported by a coil of rope, while my coat and doublet had been removed and a bandage placed around my shoulder. My left arm was in a sling.
A man was kneeling by my side to prevent my being slung bodily to lee'ard with the heel of the craft, for a steady breeze hummed through the rigging, making the vessel lie over to it as she tore on her course, while ever and again a sting of salt spray came dashing over the low bulwark.
It was just growing light, a grey misty morning, while in the east a rosy red betokened the dawning of a stormy day.
"Better?" asked the man with a peculiar grunt, as I opened my eyes.
"Where am I?" I asked drowsily.
"Safe aboard th'Emma Farleigh," he remarked, "an' well-nigh half-way over."
"Over where?" I exclaimed wonderingly.
The man regarded me for a few moments with mouth agape.
"You'd best bide quiet a bit," said he. "Maybe you'll still be wandering in t' head."
"No, I am not," I maintained. "I was shot at, and my horse carried me over the cliff. But where is this craft bound for?"
The man did not answer me, but whistled down a small hatchway.
"Here, Dick, on deck wi' ye."
A man appeared, his burly head surmounted by a shock of matted red hair, and his ruddy face hidden by a long beard of similar hue.
"I be afeard Maäster Jarge be queer in 'is 'ead," whispered the first seaman in a loud aside. "He axed where we was bound for."
"France, Maäster Jarge, France," said the ruddy one in a tone that was meant to be soothing. "Us'll drop ye safe in Cherbourg afore night if this breeze 'olds."
"I am not Master George, whoever he may be," I exclaimed with considerable heat. "And I don't want to go to France, so why am I being taken there?"
Both men looked at me in astonishment.
"Lie down an' bide quiet a bit, maäster," repeated the first.
"What? Will you not take my word for it?" I shouted, raising myself on my elbow. "I am Humphrey Markham, of Hopton's Regiment, now in camp at Lostwithiel." And as I proceeded briefly with my tale, I saw the look of incredulity on the men's faces give place to expressions of astonishment.
"Put your hellum hard up," shouted Dick to the steersman. "And let we get back as fast as us can. 'Twould ha' been a sorry pass if we hadna taken the broad pieces from they afore us started."
"You'll not be from Carnwall, young maäster?" asked one of the fishermen.
"No, from Hamptonshire," I replied. "But I know several people in Cornwall, and my greatest friend is Master Ralph, or, rather, Sir Ralph Granville, of Tregetty."
"I knows Tregetty well," said Dick. "Two brothers o' we were on th' estate. But why Sir Ralph? I thought as 'twas Sir Bevil."
"Sir Bevil has fallen in the fight with twenty of his followers," I replied.
"Fifty curses o' St. Winnow on the rebels," exclaimed the Cornishman, shaking his fist in the direction of the invisible English coast. "But, ne'er mind, young maäster, a frien' o' Sir Ralph be a friend o' we; us'll put ye ashore safe an' sound."
"Breeze be freshenin', Dick," shouted the man at the tiller. "'Twill be as much as us can do to make Plymouth."
"Keep her at it as close as she'll lie," replied Dick, giving a swift glance to windward. "One port's as good as another to we, for a bit."
I felt hungry and thirsty, and one of the men brought me a kind of pasty and a cup of cider, and as I ate they told me, in a rich Cornish burr, of the circumstances that led to my being rescued from the sea.
TheEmma Farleigh, of the port of Looe, had been engaged to cruise off Lantivet Bay, in order to embark the young Squire of Trevarthake, who, having slain in a duel a relative of an influential gentleman of Bodmin, sought to flee the country.
News of his intended flight had been noised abroad, and a party of horsemen had tried to intercept him. These were the men whom I had seen, and who tried to get between me and the sea just before my horse took a flying leap. In mutual ignorance, I took them to be friends, and they imagined me to be the man they were to arrest.
The crew of theEmma Farleighsaw me take the leap from the cliffs full forty feet above the sea, and never doubting that I was the young Squire of Trevarthake, they lowered a small boat and picked me up in an unconscious condition, and, strange to say, my sword was still gripped tightly in my right hand. They had, they told me, to force my fingers from the hilt.
When they had me safe on board theEmma Farleighthey found that I had a pistol bullet embedded in my left shoulder, but, being ignorant of surgery and unable to extract the ball, they washed and bandaged the wound the best they were capable of doing, and now, finding that I was not the Squire of Trevarthake, they had put their vessel about and were making for land.
About midday the wind veered and increased to a regular gale from the sou'-west, and with the least possible show of canvas the staunch little craft flew before the howling tempest.
I begged to be allowed to remain on deck, but Dick and his crew were obdurate, and insisted on carrying me below, where in a small and stuffy cabin I was tossed hither and thither, racked with pain, and showing symptoms of fever, while at every pitch of the vessel I thought she was plunging to the bottom. How long I remained below I know not, but suddenly the hatch was lifted off, and a flood of bright light filled the little compartment. The next instant Dick and one of his crew crawled down the steep ladder, and, lifting me in their arms, began to make their way back on deck.
Directly I was taken on deck they closed down the hatch, and, laying me on the heaving, slippery planks, passed a rope round my body to prevent my being thrown against the lee bulwarks. All three men were on deck, looking anxiously ahead. As the vessel heeled I could see a range of lofty rugged cliffs, its foot being beaten by a long line of boiling white water, which at intervals leaped high against the dark, frowning face of the rock.
"Can ye do't?" asked one of the men in a stentorian voice that was barely audible above the howling of the wind.
"Must, or sink," shouted Dick grimly as he relieved the man at the long tiller.
We had reached the end of the line of cliffs that terminated in a towering peak, dropping sheer into the sea, and, having cleared this iron-bound shore, Dick thrust his huge bulk against the tiller.
Slowly theEmma Farleigh'shead swung round, and now right ahead I could see a bay of storm-tossed water, with a rocky, though lower, line of cliffs in the background, and a long line of milk-white foam stretching from shore to shore.
With a roll that threatened to shake the masts out of her, theEmma Farleighwas soon in the thick of it; broken water poured over the bows and both quarters at the same time, while Dick was heaving at the tiller to try and keep the boat on her course.
Crash into the line of white foam she bore; there was a shock that made the vessel quiver from keel to truck; another heave, followed by a slighter yet sickening thud; then, as if sliding down a steep hill, theEmma Farleighglided into deep water.
We had crossed the bar.
Now the high land sheltered us, and, gliding over a nearly calm sea, the craft ascended a narrow creek, on the left side of which I could distinguish a castle bristling with guns, while the light played upon the steel caps and morions of the soldiers, who were intently watching our progress.
Then a little straggling village came in sight, and at an order the sails fell on deck in a confused heap, the anchor was dropped, and the staunch little craft lay riding to her hempen cable against the swift-running tide.
"Where are we?" I asked faintly.
"Salcombe," he replied. "An' yon's Fort Charles that still holds out for the King."
And even as I looked everything seemed to fade from my view, and I sank senseless on the deck.
* * * * *
* * * * *
* * * * *
When I opened my eyes I found myself in a wainscoted room, with large beams running across the ceiling.
I particularly noticed these beams, possibly because they were the first objects that met my eyes, for I was lying in bed. Spotlessly white were the bedclothes, sweet-smelling flowers were placed about the room, while through the open casement window I could see a stretch of placid water with boats passing up and down, while the hillside in the distance was covered with yellow fields of ripening grain.
"Where am I?" I asked myself, and "Why am I here?" And gradually I remembered the incidents that had taken place during the eventful period since I left the camp at Lostwithiel.
I tried to raise myself, but a dull pain in my shoulder and an utter feeling of weakness prevented me, and I had perforce to lie still and think.
Presently the door was quietly opened and a woman came softly into the room.
She was middle-aged, with calm, sweet-natured features, and her linen frills and ruffs were as white as snow. She noticed that I was awake, and coming over to my bedside, she asked me how I felt.
I replied that I hardly knew what to say, and then asked where I was, and what was I doing here?
"TheEmma Farleighhas left," she told me.
"Left," I repeated blankly. "When?"
"Three weeks agone," she answered.
"Have I been here three weeks?" I asked, amazed.
"More than that; 'twill be four come next Thursday. Now, drink this, and try to sleep once more, for you've been very ill."
Obediently I did as I was told, and after a long sleep I awoke feeling considerably refreshed.
"Art better, Master Markham?" asked my most attentive nurse.
"Ay, mistress; but what is your name, and how came you to know mine?"
"They of the Cornish fishing boat that brought you here told me about you," she replied, smiling. "And my name, an it please you, is Widdicombe."
"How can I thank you for your kindness, Mistress Widdicombe? But tell me, how came I here?"
Briefly she told me that the men of theEmma Farleighhad brought me ashore, and, filled with compassion—for, she said, I bore a strong resemblance to her only son, who had been slain at Stratton fighting bravely for His Majesty—she had brought me to her house. Here a surgeon from Fort Charles, skilled in the treatment of gun-shot wounds, had probed and extracted Chaloner's bullet, and for nearly four weeks I lay unconscious.
During that time either Mistress Widdicombe or her husband, who was a sergeant of foot under Sir Edmund Fortescue, had watched day and night at my bedside, and I undoubtedly owed my life to the generous devotion of this worthy Devonshire couple.
Thanks to a healthy constitution, together with the fact that I had led a rigorous outdoor life, my wound healed rapidly, and before the autumn leaves had begun to fall I was able to get about.
My intentions for the future were torn by various influences. My duty towards my home urged me to return to Ashley Castle, for even now the Roundheads might be hammering at its gates, though, thanks to my pistol-shot, I had little to fear from the renegade, Captain Chaloner, while my sense of duty towards my sovereign called me to rejoin the army in Cornwall.
Then came the news of the second affair at Newbury, and that the King had retired into winter quarters at Oxford.
"'Tis no use thinking to rejoin your comrades in Cornwall, Master Markham," remarked Sergeant Widdicombe one morning as he came from Fort Charles, where the work of strengthening that fortress was progressing rapidly.
"And why not?" I asked anxiously, fearing that some disaster had overtaken the King's forces in the west.
"Because the army is disbanded," he replied. "News has just arrived that the rebellion has been stamped out beyond the Tamar. Only a few fortresses are to be garrisoned, and the rest of the troops have been dismissed."
I could not help feeling glad at this intelligence, as my mind could now be made up as to what course I ought to pursue, and I resolved to bid adieu to my kindly benefactors directly I was strong enough to undertake the journey home.
At length Sergeant Widdicombe was ordered to ride over to Dartmouth Castle with a party of men to bring back some barrels of powder, and, as it was a chance for me to begin my homeward journey, it was arranged that I should accompany him, for there were greater possibilities of getting a passage on a vessel from Dartmouth than there were from a little fishing village like Salcombe.
Mistress Widdicombe, I could see, was sad at the thought of my leaving, and, for the matter of that, so was I, for I had taken a great liking for the kind, motherly Devonshire woman.
However, the time for parting arrived, and I braced myself up to say good-bye. Mistress Widdicombe was sitting in the large tiled living-room, and as I entered I saw to my delight something I had never hoped to see again, for on the oaken table lay my sword.
Stained with sea water was the Spanish leather scabbard, yet the metal hilt looked as fresh as of yore. Almost reverently I drew the blade, and, marvellous to behold, the steel glittered like a ray of light.
"I thought 'twould be a surprise for you, Master Markham," exclaimed the good dame, as I lovingly handled the trusty blade. "Dick brought it home the day before he sailed. Sure, 'twas dull and tarnished with sea water, but a little polishing soon set that right. But now, Master Humphrey, you must needs be off. May God be with ye and take care of ye." And with a hearty sounding kiss that completely took me aback, the motherly Mistress Widdicombe pushed me out of the room, as if unable to control her feelings. Such was indeed the case, for as I passed by the window I saw her sitting by the table with her head buried in her arms.
The sergeant, her husband, saw her too.
"Poor old Mary," he exclaimed. "'Tis like losing a second son. Faith! I never saw her so much downcast since the news o' Peter's death at Stratton."
The soldiers were already waiting in the boat we took our places, and were soon shooting across Salcombe Harbour, and as we reached the little quay at Portlemouth I saw a white kerchief fluttering from the window of the house I had just left.
I waved my hand in return; then, with a gulping sensation in my throat, I turned away. A huge lumbering waggon, drawn by six powerful horses, was awaiting us. Telling me to take my place within, Sergeant Widdicombe gave the order, and the convoy set out on the road to Dartmouth.
After we had gained the summit of a long steep hill, the sergeant gave his horse to a trooper to lead, and joined us in the waggon. It was slow work, continually up and down, and I asked my companion why they had gone by road instead of by an easier passage by sea.
"You'll see anon," he replied gravely, and immediately changed the subject.
It was early morn when we started, and about noon we reached the brink of a steep declivity. Below us was a stretch of level road, quite two miles in length, which separated the sea from a lagoon-like expanse of water.
At the end of the road, as far as I could see, the land rose to a great height, terminating in frowning cliffs, while away in the distance several rocky islands broke the sky-line.
But what attracted my attention most was the presence of a number of men-of-war, their lofty yellow and black sides shining in the brilliant sunshine as they rode at anchor about a mile from the shore.
"There," exclaimed Sergeant Widdicombe, indicating the ships—"there is the reason why we could not sail round. The rebel fleet keeps a strict blockade upon Dartmouth."
"Then I cannot take ship from Dartmouth?" I asked.
"A small vessel might slip out and stand in between the rocks you see yonder," he replied. "But that is no affair of mine, though you'll find out soon enough."
"Think we can manage it, Fox?" he continued, addressing a trooper, "or shall we take the inland road, though 'tis far more hilly?"
"'Twill be safe enow if half the troop ride inside the waggon and the rest follow us later with the led horses," replied the man addressed.
"Very well, then," said Widdlcombe, "we can but try."
So half the soldiers dismounted and took their seats under the covered waggon; two more, putting waggoners' smocks over their buff coats and stowing their iron caps under the seat, accompanied the cart, one driving, the other sheltering close to the side of the hood.
The rest of the troopers, with their comrades' horses, remained behind under cover of a clump of trees, and at the word of command the waggon began to descend the hill.
Directly it gained the level road, the driver whipped up the horses, and the cumbersome wain jolted along at a quick pace but barely had it gone a hundred yards than we saw boats being lowered from the rebel ships.
"Don't spare the whip," exclaimed Sergeant Widdicombe. "Heaven forfend they do not open fire."
"'Tis useless for the men to tarry behind," urged Fox, the corporal. "Make them ride on ahead and hold the road."
In obedience to a signal the rest of the troopers galloped up, and, soon overtaking us, gained the rising ground in front. The horses strained at their traces, the waggon swayed, groaned, and rattled, and all the while Widdicombe kept a sharp eye on the advancing boats.
As the keel of the first touched the sand, we tore past the place where the rebels had intended to cut us off, greatly to their rage and mortification; and at the rate at which we were going pursuit seemed hopeless, and the soldiers gave vent to a hearty cheer.
But their exultation was short-lived, for at that moment a cloud of smoke burst from the side of the nearest ship, and the next instant our two leading horses were stricken down by a round shot.
It was the work of a few seconds to cut the traces and drag the mangled carcases from the road, but with the reduced number of our team the progress of the waggon was proportionately slower, and it was evident that our pursuers would overtake us.
When we reached the foot of the steep road that wound its way up the hillside in a gigantic curve, the jaded beasts were exhausted. Jumping from the waggon, the soldiers strove their utmost to push it up the incline, but after less than twenty yards the hopelessness of the task became apparent. The rebels, breathless with running, were less than a hundred yards behind.
"Swing the waggon round!" shouted Widdicombe. "And cut the traces."
The next instant the heavy waggon was drawn across the road, while the horses were led further up the hill to the shelter of a dense wood.
Unslinging their petronels and ordering their muskets, the troopers lay behind the waggon or under the cover afforded by the rocks by the roadside, whilst I, unable by reason of my arm being still in a sling to load a pistol, could only wait, sword in hand, for the possibility of the rebels coming within sword's reach.
There were at least eighty of the enemy against our twenty-two men, though the nature of our position counted for much. Had Widdicombe so wished, he could, by abandoning the waggon, easily have made a retreat, all his party being mounted, but flight was far from his thoughts.
"Lie down!" he exclaimed sternly to me, and barely had I taken shelter behind a fern-clad bank than both sides opened fire.
Splinters flew from the woodwork of the waggon, bullets knocked up little clouds of white dust as they struck the road behind us, yet with the greatest coolness the sergeant continued to give the words of the firing manual to his trained men, as, blowing, priming, casting about, and discharging their pieces, the soldiers of the convoy kept up a steady fire upon the enemy.
Thick smoke enveloped us, but through the drifting vapour I could get an occasional glimpse of the Roundheads, who, in an ever-increasing semicircle, strove to take us in front and on our right flank. Our left, fortunately, consisted of an almost sheer face of rock.
"Two men are down, sergeant," exclaimed a white-faced soldier on my left. He was a mere boy compared to me in size, though no doubt older, and it was his first time under fire.
"What odds if twenty are down?" retorted Widdicombe grimly. "Go on firing," and plucking up courage by the sergeant's example, the recruit bore himself right manfully.
For half an hour the firing continued, without the rebels gaining any material advantage, but Widdicombe began to look grave, for I knew his thoughts were on the limited supply of ammunition.
Another man was down, writhing with a ball through his shoulder, and in addition five men had expended their charges. These latter he sent to remount their horses in readiness to cover their retreat.
"We must needs abandon the wain, Master Markham," he said. "Though I call you to witness I did my best to save it."
"'Tis but a waggon," I replied, wondering at the stubbornness with which he defended it.
"Ay," he replied. "But most of Sir Edmund Fortescue's gold plate is hidden between the double bottom!"
Just then two of the men who were lining the roadside knelt up and discharged their pieces at some of the rebels who daringly attempted to scale the rocks on our right, and on looking to see the nature of the attack, Widdicombe gave a shout of encouragement.
"A rescue! A rescue!"
Splashing through the shallows of the lake past which we had come was a whole regiment of horse.
Re-forming on the level road, they drew swords, and with loose rein dashed to take our foes in the rear. A few remained behind, and, unslinging their musketoons, opened fire on the boats, causing the boat-keepers to push off in terror.
Caught in a trap, the rebel fire slackened, and although a few shots fired from the ships whistled over our heads or rolled harmlessly along the soft ground, nothing could stop the headlong charge of the Royalist horse.
Like a whirlwind the cavalry were upon their demoralised foes, and after a few sweeps of glittering blades as the remainder of the rebels, who still showed fight, fell before the resistless onslaught, the combat was over.
The timely yet unexpected arrival of Forde's regiment of horse from Dartmouth saved the convoy, and the rebel fleet, under Admiral Batten, had the mortification of seeing thirty-two soldiers and seamen marched off as prisoners of war, while twenty-eight more were killed, either during their attack upon us or in the charge of the horse.
"Ay, 'tis the last of Sir Edmund's gold plate," remarked Sergeant Widdicombe as he rejoined me, "though none of the regiment save I knew of it. The first part was sent to His Majesty at the commencement of the war, and all that Sir Edmund has left is the silver, though, methinks, that must also go for the upkeep of Fort Charles."
Without further incident the convoy reached Dartmouth Castle. The sergeant handed in his precious charge and received the required barrels of powder; then, having brought me to the notice of a captain who was responsible for the transport service, he bade me farewell.
Generous at heart, courageous in body, Sergeant Widdicombe had gained my greatest admiration and esteem, and as he went I felt that another link of friendship—the second that day—had been ruthlessly severed.
"WOUNDED, and wants to go home, eh?" was the comment of the Governor of Dartmouth Castle, when Captain Dixon, the transport officer, made known my request. "Beshrew me, 'tis but a continuous stream of men from Dorset and Hamptonshire clamouring for passages, and most of them unscathed. What's thy name?"
I told him, and his abrupt manner changed.
"A relation of Sir Reginald Markham, of Ashley, perchance?"
"His son."
"I know Sir Reginald well by name, though I cannot call him to mind. Yet I would not be doing my duty if I refused to aid the son of a loyal cavalier. Let him have a passage by the first vessel, Dixon, if he be willing to take the risk of capture."
For the next three days I was at liberty to look around the town, for until Batten's squadron relaxed its vigilance or a kindly fog swept down upon the sea, escape was almost an impossibility.
The journey by road was not to be thought of, for the Roundhead cause was strong in Dorchester, Poole, Salisbury, and, in fact, nearly every village and town in Wiltshire and Dorset, and no man, not a declared Parliamentarian, could travel through those districts in safety.
On the morning of the fourth day after my arrival a thick mist hung over the harbour, blotting out everything more than a hundred yards away. The outlines of the hamlet of Kingswear could just, and only just, be discerned, while the ships in the river looked like enormous shadows as they swung to the strong tide.
"Bestir yourself, Master Markham," said Captain Dixon, "if you want to get away to-day. TheHappy Adventureis to make an attempt to sail in an hour's time, if the mist holds."
As my personal belongings consisted solely in what I stood up in, my preparations were soon completed, and in five minutes I was being rowed off to the vessel which, if Providence willed, was to take me homewards.
TheHappy Adventurewas a large fishing-smack, which had the reputation of being the fastest sailer betwixt Start Point and Portland Bill, yet withal she was bluff-bowed and had a good amount of freeboard.
Her crew consisted of three men and a boy, besides which there were two passengers, a cornet of Lyle's Horse, and myself.
She was to bear despatches to Littlehampton, whence the cornet had to ride with the precious missives to Arundel Castle, as the Governor of Dartmouth thought that the quickest and safest method of communicating with that castle would be by water.
The huge brown sails were hoisted and the moorings slipped, and with a cool breeze that swept down from the hills in sudden squalls, theHappy Adventureheaded for the open sea. The blurred images of the castle and St. Petrox appeared to glide past on our starboard hand, and the next instant the coast was blotted out in the ever-increasing fog, which soon grew so thick that we could scarce see from one end of the boat to the other.
Away on our larboard bow came the dull roar of beating surf, but the master treated this with perfect composure.
"'Tis but the Mewstone," he remarked. "We must stand in more if we would avoid the rebels' boats. Bear away, George," he added, addressing the helmsman, "and try to clear the rock by the boat's length."
As we approached the roar became louder, but above the noise of the breakers we heard the sound of oars, and a hoarse voice shouted, "Heave-to!"
"Ay! ay!" replied the master, rushing to relieve the man at the tiller.
"What! You are not going to give up without an effort?" exclaimed the cornet. But with an oath the master bade him hold his tongue.
Ahead a boat loomed through the mist, manned by a dozen rowers, with several musketeers in her stern-sheets. The men's matches were lighted, and their muskets at the ready.
"Heave-to, once more, I say, and throw us a line," shouted an officer.
"I hear you, sir," replied the master. "Down sail!" he shouted to the crew; but, obeying a motion of his hand, the men remained motionless.
The next instant the master had thrown his whole weight against the tiller; theHappy Adventureseemed to swing round as if on a pivot, and her bluff bows crashed into the rebels' boat.
A shattering of wood, a chorus of shouts and shrieks, and the stout craft had overridden the frail long-boat, Then, within a little more than an oar's length of the towering pinnacle of rock under our lee, theHappy Adventurespun round and resumed her course, the mist swallowing up the figures of the struggling men, though for long their cries were heard above the roar of the surf.
"I owe you an apology for mistrusting you," exclaimed the cornet, holding out his hand to the imperturbable master; but the stiff old sea-dog of Devon only bade him remember he was but a mere passenger, whereupon my fellow-voyager retired in confusion.
This was our only meeting with the vessels of Batten's squadron, and with the favouring breeze that soon dispersed the mist, theHappy Adventurebore steadily eastwards.
Shortly after midday the Bill hove in sight; then the wind failed, and until darkness set in the smack was rolling in the oily waters of Lyme Bay, with the distant sounds of the terrible Race being faintly borne to our ears in the calm atmosphere.
About an hour after dark the cornet and I went to sleep, having only the rough comfort afforded by a heap of sails but, thanks to our hardy life, we slept none the worse.
Our rest was fated not to be of long duration, for we were aroused by the master giving orders in a loud and excited voice.
Springing to our feet, we peered into the inky blackness of the night, and straight ahead we saw a row of glimmering lights arranged in series of three, of which the middle one was slightly higher than the two outside.
They were the stern lanterns of a fleet.
"We are overhauling them fast," said the master "though we can scarce hope to pass by them ere daylight. If we are to avoid them we must needs stand in Poole Bay."
"I care not what ye do, as long as we are not taken," replied the cornet, who still smarted under his previous rebuff.
The breeze had freshened again, and we had run past Portland and were, so the master told us, abreast of St. Alban's Head. Resolving to stand more inshore, he altered the helm, and gradually we brought the endmost lights under our quarter.
Day dawned and found us within a couple of miles to leeward of the squadron, with Christchurch Head about four miles to larboard. We were soon perceived, for a frigate altered her course and fired a gun for us to bring to, whereupon the master, seeing flight out of the question, ordered theHappy Adventureto shorten sail, at the same time sending us down below.
In the cramped, close cabin we were unable to see what was taking place, though we heard the hails from the frigate and our master's replies.
"Luff up under my stem and let's have a look at you," shouted an authoritative voice. "Where are you from, and where are you bound?"
"From Poole to Cowes," answered the master.
"And the cargo?"
"Clay."
"Lay-to while I send a boat," shouted the officer, and we distinctly heard the scurrying of bare feet and the creaking of the tackle as the seamen prepared to lower one of the quarter-boats.
"They'll have us right enough," whispered the ensign, as he prepared to rush on deck to throw his despatches, already weighted with lead, into the sea; but even as his foot was on the ladder we heard the voice continue, "Carry on with you." The bos'un's whistle sounded, and we heard the blocks creak as the frigate's yards were swung round.
Our vessel also resumed her course, and after some time had elapsed the cornet insisted on leaving the cabin.
"Who told you to come on deck?" bawled the master, his speech accompanied by a string of nautical oaths. "You jack-booted, brainless weathercock your tin figurehead has undone us!"
His words, though unceremonious, were quite true, for the frigate was keeping a sharp eye on us, and perceiving the cornet's steel cap emerge from the hatchway, the rebels concluded that they had made a mistake in not searching us.
Her yards were trimmed once more, and she started in pursuit. A spurt of flame followed by a cloud of smoke burst from one of her bow ports, and a shot struck the water fifty yards from our quarter, rebounding twice ere it sank.
Making sure that every stitch of canvas was drawing, the master kept theHappy Adventureon her course, casting anxious glances over his shoulder at the pursuing frigate, which was barely two miles astern.
"We gain a little," he remarked after a while, as the shots fell farther and farther astern; but ahead was a belt of flat calm, and unless the breeze held our capture seemed inevitable.
The rest of the squadron had borne away more to the south'ard, heading towards the Needles Channel. Astern the frigate was crowding on sail, ahead were the guns of Hurst Castle, and we knew that we were fairly entrapped.
The darting rays
The darting rays
[Illustration:The darting rays fell on my face, and with a stifled cry of terror the soldier turned to flee.]
[Illustration:The darting rays fell on my face, and with a stifled cry of terror the soldier turned to flee.]
The cornet suggested running the vessel ashore, but to this proposal the master gave a stern refusal.
"We have a chance, a bare chance," he said. "And as long as my craft floats I'll take it."
Fortunately the breeze held in front of us, the belt of unruffled water receding still farther as we progressed, and theHappy Adventureshowed that her reputation for sailing was no idle one. The frigate, too, finding that we were out of range had ceased firing, but had set her royals.
Staggering under her press of sail, she evidently found that the wind was too much for her, and shortly afterwards we could see the royals being clewed up. Then a blinding rain set in, almost blotting out the outlines of our pursuer, whereat the master whistled blithely.
"Edge her off a bit," he ordered, "or we'll be hard and fast aground." And, to my surprise, the smack was steered, not as I thought towards the open sea, but nearer the shore. Though I dare not question this fiery-tempered son of Devon, he doubtless saw the look of inquiry on my face.
"'Tis the Shingles, young sir," he explained. "A vast bank just below the surface. If yon vessel holds on her course she'll run herself aground."
The frigate did not attempt to sheer off, and, as the master had predicted, she struck hard, her fore-topmast going by the board.
"That's settled her for the nonce," remarked the master. "But now for the guns of Hurst Castle."
Once more we were to be shown the art of "bluffing." Trusting to his proverbial luck, the master steered direct for the fortress, instead of heading away for the more distant shore of the Isle of Wight.
Hurst is not a large castle; it is merely a stone fort, heavily mounted with guns, and occupies the extremity of a low spit of shingle. Between it and the island the tide was surging in a manner the like of which I had never seen before, Tumbling and rolling in a confused mass of broken water, the sea was running as fast as a horse can trot—at least, that is what it appeared to me—but close to the castle a strong eddy was making in an opposite direction to the main flood.
Into this eddy theHappy Adventurewas steered. The frigate was now nearly lost in the rain cloud, though we could see that she was still fast aground. Against the counter-current the smack only just held her own, and, edging so close to the fortress that we could almost have jumped on to the beach, she came within easy hailing distance.
"What ship is that?" shouted an officer, whose appearance could not be taken for anything else than a rebel. He was supported by a file of musketeers, while we could see some gunners cluster round a piece of ordnance, that grinned at us through a wide embrasure.
"TheHappy Adventure, of Poole. We are chased by the malignants. Can we take shelter in Keyhaven?"
"What is the name of the ship?"
"I know not; she is a frigate, and is aground on the Shingles."
"Carry on, and bring up in the haven."
"Very good, sir."
The smack kept close inshore, making slow progress till the entrance to the narrow creek behind the castle became visible then, before the rebels could understand that they had been tricked, theHappy Adventureshot into the main tide, and with the wind and current was quickly out of gunshot.
We saved our tide right through the Solent. At the sight of Cowes Harbour my thoughts flew back to the finding of staunch old Nicholas Firestone. I often wondered whether I should see him again. And Ralph Granville, too, where was he?
Then the low-lying fortifications of Portsmouth were seen three miles or more on our larboard bow, and the sight of Southsea Castle, over which the rebel flag was doubtless floating, brought back memories of the double-dealing Chaloner. I had an easy conscience concerning the slaying of that man, for he was both a traitor to the King and a personal enemy to our house.
"I'll stand in a bit, young sir," said the master, pointing to a low tree-clad shore. "Maybe, a fisherman will take you ashore. 'Tis the mouth of Chichester Harbour you can see yonder, and 'twill save you a long journey, though I cannot place you ashore here myself."
Fortunately there were fishermen at work just below the Outer Pole Sands, and one of them expressed his willingness to land me. A quarter of an hour later theHappy Adventurewas nearly lost to sight as she headed through the drizzling rain towards the Looe Stream.
The fishing-boat, a frail-looking craft with a tall, narrow sail set up by a single halyard on a slender mast, after the fashion of these parts—for there were half a dozen similar craft racing for the harbour—was not long in making the passage up the mud-banked channel, and just as the sun was setting I set foot in my native county once more, at the town of Emsworth. After giving the fisherman one of my two remaining shillings, I inquired the way, and stepped briskly out in the gathering darkness, knowing that a good many miles lay between me and Ashley Castle.
THE night was dark. The drizzle had increased to a continuous downpour, rendering walking a matter of difficulty, and from the time I left Emsworth till the time I came within sight of my father's home I never met a solitary wayfarer.
It must have been nearly midnight ere the black masses of the castle loomed indistinctly against the darkness, and at the sight of the familiar building my heart throbbed violently.
It was a certain amount of satisfaction to find that the castle had not been reduced to a heap of stone, like many I had seen in various parts of the country; but the question arose in my mind, Did it still belong to the Markhams, or were my people driven out by the rebels?
A solitary light gleamed through the narrow window above the gatehouse, so that I knew that watch and ward was being kept. The drawbridge was raised, and at my feet were the dark waters of the moat.
I shouted, but my voice was lost in the howling of the wind. Groping around, I found a small stone, which I hurled at the door, smiling to myself, in spite of my fears, at the strange method of craving admittance to mine own home.
Instantly the light was extinguished, and a voice shouted:
"Who goes there?"
"A friend," I replied, unwilling to disclose my identity. "I would see Sir Reginald Markham."
There was a short interval, and then torches flared on the battlements, the light falling on steel morions and breastplates. Then the drawbridge fell, and ere I could cross a tall figure advanced to meet me.
For a moment I hesitated, but the light of the lantern he held above his head fell on his features, and I recognised, to my great joy, the soldierly features of Sergeant Lawson.
At the same time the darting rays fell on my face, and with a stifled cry of terror and amazement the soldier turned to flee.
"Stand firm, sergeant," I exclaimed, "I am no ghost."
Thereupon he returned, almost overthrowing me in his delight.
"Mind my arm, sergeant," said I, laughing, for he had not perceived that it was in a sling. "Fie on you! One moment you run from me, and the next you would push me into the moat."
I was instantly surrounded by a crowd of enthusiastic retainers and servants, and directly I was in the gateway the drawbridge was drawn up. A man ran to convey the news to my father, and before long I was welcomed home not only by my parents, but also by Colonel Firestone and Ralph Granville.
In spite of the lateness of the hour, we remained talking, questioning and cross-questioning, while I attacked a hearty supper with great spirit, being well-nigh famished.
It appeared that directly my absence was noticed a strong body of troopers, led by Firestone and Ralph, and accompanied by a skilled Cornish tracker, had gone out to search for me. They traced my horse's footsteps when it had turned from the highway, and had followed it to the cromlech. Here they found one of Firestone's pistols and saw drops of blood and a number of diverging tracks, so that they concluded I had been waylaid, robbed, and murdered.
Upon the disbandment of the army in Cornwall Colonel Firestone resolved to ride to Ashley to break the news, and Granville, now that his father was killed and himself made homeless, agreed to accompany him, so that everyone thought I was dead, and hence honest Sergeant Lawson's terror at what he took to be a supernatural appearance.
For my part, I told them briefly of my adventures, and when I narrated how I had shot down the treacherous Captain Chaloner, I saw my father's face visibly brighten. Yet it seemed strange that the search party had not found the caitiff's body, and that fact gave me some misgivings, although I argued that some of the captain's friends must have removed and buried his corpse.
Then I asked how it fared with them at home.
"'Tis not as bad as it might be," replied my father, who, alas! had aged considerably through the combined attacks of old age, infirmity, and trouble. "We must, of necessity, lie close within doors, for there is no telling when the rebels will appear over the hill. No doubt we owe much to the fact that His Grace of Winchester still keeps the Roundheads at bay, although for eighteen months they have laid close siege to his house at Basing."
In truth, Ashley Castle was nominally in a state of blockade, for within a few miles a large force was engaged in trying to reduce the Marquis of Winchester's stronghold, while bodies of rebels roamed with little opposition throughout the length and breadth of the country, robbing with impunity, committing acts of sacrilege, and burning down the dwellings of all who offered resistance.
The next morning I could form some idea of the state of affairs.
Before I had left for the west much had been done towards putting the castle into an efficient state of defence, but the recent changes astonished me. A clump of trees that grew within a hundred yards of the gate had been cut down, as they were regarded as being capable of affording protection to musketeers at close range. The outer walls had been banked up with earth, so that a steep slope led directly from midway up the walls to the edge of the moat. This would render the task of escalade considerably harder, while it afforded additional protection against heavy ordnance. Most of the tenantry lived within the castle, and, when not busy collecting provisions, were employed upon making gabions, which were placed around the walls to give better protection to the gunners.
In a state of prolonged suspense we passed the winter, and with the return of spring our anxieties increased.
My father, by reason of his growing infirmities, was unable, much against his will, to rejoin the King's forces, and ere the summer was well advanced he was scarce able to walk. But it was the news of the terrible disaster to His Majesty's forces at Naseby that literally broke his loyal spirit.
One morning he called me to his room, where I found him sitting at a table littered with papers.
"You are now eighteen years of age, Humphrey," he began, "and up to the present I have little fault to find with you, whether it be in home matters or in conduct in the field. May you continue in the way you have gone, and, above all things, remember to be an upright and God-fearing subject of His Gracious Majesty."
"Now concerning our private affairs," he went on, after I had made fitting reply. "I have much to speak about, and must needs do so quickly, for I fear my days are drawing to a close. Here are the deeds and other documents relating to the castle. In these troublous days 'tis not safe to trust to a lawyer, hence these papers I have kept here. They must be concealed in safety at all costs, for, mark ye well, Ashley Castle will be invested within a week, though I may not live to see it."
Keenly alive though I had been to my father's precarious state, these last words gave me a shock. But it was no time for me to display weakness. I sought to rally him, but he persisted.
"As 'tis unwise to lock up the secret solely within your own breast," he resumed, with a splendid fortitude, "for any day might see you stricken down, I would charge you to share the knowledge of the hiding-place with those worthy gentlemen Sir Ralph Granville and Colonel Firestone, who, I feel sure, will not betray their trust. Therefore I leave the matter entirely in your hands, knowing that you will prove worthy of my confidence."
So saying, he handed me a packet containing the legal documents, which I took away to my own room till I could conveniently dispose of them.
On my return with Ralph and Colonel Firestone, my father asked me to assist him to rise, and, leaning heavily on my shoulder—which was by now perfectly healed—he led the way towards the underground cellars, where the provisions of an imperishable nature had been stored, my comrades following closely.
Through a narrow grated window the pale light that entered was barely enough to see with, but, with a confidence only gained by familiarity, my father limped towards the furthermost wall. Here four massive pillars, supporting the groined arches of the roof, were walled in by stonework of a more recent date.
"Now follow carefully what I am about to do," said he, and touched a concealed spring. Part of one of the pillars swung round, disclosing a yawning cavity; yet so closely did the moving stonework fit the rest of the column that the most practised eye would fail to detect the mechanism, especially in the dim light.
Taking a lantern from a bench, my father directed me to close the sliding door and set light to the candle.
This I did, and reopening the secret aperture, my father painfully crawled through, and we followed. There was a dry, musty smell about the vault, and, as our eyes grew accustomed to the feeble light, we saw barrels and barrels ranged along the floor.
"Hold well the lantern," said my father, giving it into my hands. "A slip and we are all undone, for every cask contains powder."
"Then there is no chance of our running short of ammunition," remarked Firestone.
"Nicholas," exclaimed my father reproachfully, "'tis not for that purpose. I would have you remember that the magazines are nearer the ordnance, according to the custom of warfare. See," he exclaimed, raising his voice and speaking with considerable vehemence. "Here is a train, and I have sworn that no rebel shall set foot within Ashley Castle. I require each of you to promise me that, should the castle be rendered untenable, you will fire the train."
We gazed at him in amazement, for his resolution filled us with mingled consternation and admiration.
"Nay," he continued, with a faint smile, "I would not that ye sacrificed your lives heedlessly, for see, I have provided a means of escape. Stoop down, Humphrey, and wrench at that iron ring in the floor."
Handing the lantern to Granville, I bent and grasped the ring.
Putting forth all my strength, I lifted a square stone, revealing a deep hole, while the uppermost of a flight of steps became visible.
"There is your retreat," resumed my father. "When needs must, enter fearlessly and pursue your way to the remote end, taking care to close two doors on the way. 'Tis a lengthy step, and where it emerges will doubtless surprise you. There is a secret door at the far end, which can be opened only from within. 'Tis easily done, but, I pray you, do so with care, and, above all things, take torches with you. Now, promise me, my son, and you, too, my friends, that my wishes shall be carried out?"
In that chamber, filled with potent horror, we made a solemn promise; then, replacing the stone and retracing our way, we returned to the great hall.
"Devotion to His Majesty has impoverished most of us," continued my father, "and we are not exceptions. Of actual coin of the realm I have but little. Here is a bag filled with crowns give to every man of the garrison four apiece ere the castle falls, of the residue share it amongst yourselves. And now, Humphrey, get ye gone and conceal the papers I have spoken of, and see me on your return."
Accompanied by my two companions, and bearing the precious documents in a stout iron chest, I stole out by the postern, crossed the drawbridge, and made for the wooded downs. Here under the spreading roots of a gnarled oak we buried the box, taking care that no curious or prying eyes were about, and carefully replacing the turf over the spot. 'Twould be against mine own interests to indicate the particular tree, though any one of us could find it without difficulty. This done, we returned home, and I hastened to acquaint my father of the accomplishment of the deed.
"'Tis well," he exclaimed feebly, for the exertion of the morning had sore tried him, and he had taken to his bed.
"Now, concerning your mother, sister, and yourself," he went on after a lengthy pause. "Directly I am no more, send your mother, with your sister, away to her brother's house at Midhurst, so that they may be spared the horrors of war. For their future I have provided. As for yourself, 'twould be unwise, should the castle fall, to retire to Midhurst, for it is but jeopardising your liberty and destroying your mother's retreat, and bringing the vengeance of the rebels upon that most harmless and peace-loving man, your uncle. Therefore, 'tis best that you return to the Isle of Wight, and settle in obscurity till the King's star shall rise again, and to that end I have placed the sum of five hundred pounds into the hands of that most worthy man, Doctor Scott, your former dominie."
After a few more instructions he gave me his blessing and sent me to bring my mother to his bedside.
Master Cox, the surgeon of Catherington, was soon in attendance, and he expressed his opinion that the end was nigh. Thereupon we sent for Dr. Palmer, the vicar of our church at Chalton.
The less I dwell on the events of the next few hours the better it is to my peace of mind; sufficient it is to say that ere midnight my father had quitted this earthly wilderness, and that I was Sir Humphrey Markham.
We laid him to rest within the little church at Chalton, half the garrison standing to their arms while the rest attended the obsequies. Two days later I sent my mother and sister with an ample escort to Midhurst, as I had been directed, and thereupon took over the task of preparing to hold the castle.
In this I was ably assisted by the colonel and Ralph, both of whom signified their intention of fighting to the last.
At length the tedious suspense came to an end, for one afternoon towards the end of September two farmers rode hotspur to the castle with the news that two regiments of foot and one of horse were on their way to reduce our stronghold.