Captain Jeremy's Surprise.
"What hath befallen you?" asked my father anxiously, as we crossed
the threshold of the house. "Ye are both as pale as ghosts, and your
clothes, Clifford, are smothered in dust. Hath Trotter thrown you?"
For answer, Constance sat down upon a settle and sobbed
hysterically, while my father, stopping abruptly his task of
questioning us, bestirred himself to comfort her.
"Two dragoons have molested us," I announced. "They were in pursuit
of Captain Miles."
"Have they hurt you?" he asked.
"Nay, but little--thanks to the Captain." In a few words I related
the incidents that had terminated in the death of the two villains.
My father looked grave.
"And Jeremy?" he asked. "Hath he gone to Lymington?"
"Nay, he awaits me by the Beaulieu bridle path."
"'Tis well for him, though I am loath to risk His Majesty's
displeasure in succouring rebels. Yet, especially as he did befriend
you, I'll do my best to repay Jeremy's kindness. He must not go to
Lymington, Clifford."
"He doth not intend to do so," said I. "He is making for Pitt's
Deep."
"Equally as rash as if he journeyed to Lymington. I, too, heard the
news this morning soon after you left. The dragoons watch every mile
of this part of the coast, and at every little port a watch is set,
so that no strangers dare set foot on shipboard without being
closely questioned. My son, I take the risk even of harbouring a
rebel. I'll go with thee and speak my mind with friend Jeremy."
Bidding Martha, our housekeeper, stay with Constance, and impressing
upon her the necessity for silence as to what had occurred, my
father, taking a mattock in his hand, set out to the scene of the
encounter, I accompanying him, and carrying the spades over my
shoulder.
"Where is the package I bade you bring from Lyndhurst?" he asked, as
we left the outskirts of the village.
I searched the pockets of my doublet without success, though I was
certain that the article had been safely placed in one of them.
"It must have fallen out on the road," I replied.
"'Tis a grave matter," he said, with a look of anxiety and a gesture
of impatience. "How can I--but there! if 't comes to the worst, I
must journey into Southampton myself. 'Tis the fortune of war."
No more was said, for we were already in sight of the cross-roads,
and Captain Miles was sitting on the bracken-covered bank awaiting
us.
"Good day to you, Cap'n Hammond!" he exclaimed as we approached.
"'Tis a sad business dragging you and yours into this bickering."
"Yet, thanks to Heaven and your aid, my children were saved from the
clutches of those rogues."
"Had it not been for me the rascals would not have been here,"
replied Captain Miles apologetically. "Yet I thank you, sir, for
coming to my assistance, though 'tis to the advantage of this part
of the countryside that we hide this carrion," and he pointed with
his finger to the bodies of the two dragoons.
We set to work with a will, and in less than a quarter of an hour a
shallow trench was dug sufficiently deep to receive the corpses of
the ruffianly soldiers.
"Egad! 'tis warm work," exclaimed my father, leaning on his mattock
as the first part of the task was completed.
"I'm right sorry I've no rum to offer you," said Captain Miles,
wiping his heated brow. "You see, we're not aboard the old
_Venture_, otherwise 'twould be different."
"I, too, regret that I brought not my flask of cordials," replied my
father.
"There is a bottle of strong waters that I found close to the body
of one of these villains," remarked Jeremy; "but though I did make
three good attempts at it, 'twas more than I could stomach. It
smells aright, but the taste--faugh! I have it in my mouth yet. Try
it, Captain Hammond, and see if it suit thy palate."
So saying, he produced a bottle and handed it to my father, who gave
an exclamation of surprise, quickly followed by a hearty laugh.
"Why, what's amiss?" asked the astonished Captain, as my father
thrust the bottle into his pocket.
"Hist! I'll tell thee anon," said my sire mysteriously. "Now, let's
resume our task."
The carcasses of the troopers' horses, the victims of Captain
Miles's self-preservation, were next interred; while, to make doubly
sure, the mount that Jeremy had borrowed from the Ringwood farmer
was also buried.
This done, I happened to cross the highway, where, to my surprise, I
found the wrappings of the package for which we had journeyed into
Lyndhurst on that eventful morning.
"See! here is the covering of your packet," I exclaimed, holding it
up to my father's view.
"Aye, Clifford, I know it. Say no more on this matter."
Inwardly wondering, I obeyed. Whatever the package contained, I now
felt certain that 'twas the same stuff as Jeremy Miles had attempted
to swallow.
"Now, look you, Captain Miles," said my father, as we prepared to
return homewards, "neither Lymington nor Pitt's Deep offers an
asylum for you. To go to either place is to set your head in a trap.
I have made up my mind that you must tarry with us at Brockenhurst
till this storm has blown over."
"Nay, 'tis unfair to saddle you with the presence of a proclaimed
rebel," objected Captain Jeremy stoutly. "The service I rendered
your children does not warrant such a generous payment. I'll accept
your hospitality for this night, and at sunrise to-morrow I'll make
my way into Sussex. I know of an old shipmate at Shoreham who'll
gladly set me across to France."
"You'll never get out of Hampshire, my friend," interrupted my
father; "at least, not yet awhile. Perchance the tide of monarchy
will change again, though, mark you, I'd far rather have James
Stuart as my lawful sovereign than James Walters. No, no, I say;
further flight is out of the question. At Brockenhurst you will stay
till I give you leave to go farther afield."
'Twas no light matter to smuggle the fugitive into our home; but we
did it, and for the next week or more Captain Miles remained within
doors, my father having pointed out to him the secret panel in case
of an emergency. This surprised me not a little, for he was usually
very reticent about this matter. True, I had been told of the
existence of the hiding-place, but even Constance was kept in
ignorance of it. The person who contrived the sliding panel must
have done his work well, for no one unacquainted with its mechanism
could cause it to move. But I've said enough concerning this matter,
for although 'tis well known that our home does possess such a
contrivance, its position and the method of working it still remain
a secret locked in the breast of a trusted few, and 'twould not be
doing my duty towards the Hammonds that are to come were I to say
more.
Yet there was no reason for alarm. Though troops of horse often
passed through Brockenhurst on their way to and from Lymington, none
stopped to search for rebels. Neither did the disappearance of two
of Cornbury's Dragoons cause any trouble, for we learnt that they
were set down as deserters, while, as good fortune would have it, a
report came in that two men answering their description had been
seen riding northwards out of Salisbury.
One morning I was seated with Captain Jeremy in the little room
where he was wont to spend most of his time. Often I would go
thither to be regaled with stories of his voyage to the Indies and
his adventures in foreign parts, till my young blood coursed madly
through my veins; and so strange were some of the tales he told that
I'm afraid his share of imagination must have been a double one.
In the midst of his narrative on this particular day, my father
entered, having just returned from Lymington Town.
"I have bad news for you," he announced.
"'Tis not the first time, Captain Hammond," replied Jeremy
composedly. "What is it this time?"
"The sheriff hath taken possession of your house, and it and all its
contents are to be sold by candle auction."[1]
"'Tis the fortune of war," said Captain Miles, removing his long
clay pipe from his lips and puffing out a thick cloud of smoke. "I
expected it, and provided for it ere I left for Monmouth's camp.
What money I possess, beyond what I require for my present
disbursements, I have stowed away in the hold of the good ship
'Never-Sink'--to wit, Mother Earth. But there is one thing I'd be
glad to lay my hands on. Wouldst be willing to buy a certain article
out of my house?"
"Would I could buy the lot!"
"Nay, 'tis but a picture--a painting of my good barque the
_Venture_, done in oils by a rascally Neapolitan, for which he
charged me five ducats, though he did place the chain plates too far
aft, and the spritsail yard above the bowsprit."
"'Tis a common fault with a landlubber," said my parent.
"Nevertheless, I'll see to it."
"I prize the painting but lightly," continued Jeremy; "but there's
more in it than meets the eye."
"I do not understand."
"Captain Hammond, you've treated me right nobly, and 'twould ill
become me were I not to repay you to the utmost of my power. I'll be
straightforward in this matter. Listen!"
My father motioned to me to leave them, but, perceiving the gesture,
Captain Jeremy exclaimed:
"No, no, let the lad remain, for 'tis also to his advantage to hear.
That picture contains the true and only clue to the lost treasure
ship _Madre de Dios_."
[1] This custom appears to be fairly common in south-coast ports. In
September, 1628, the Mayor of Portsmouth reported to the Admiralty
that "The The Gift of God", prize, was sold on the last day of
August by the burning of a candle.