CHAPTER VII

It was one bright spring morning after getting well on with his Latin

reading with the vicar, that Lance thought he would go down to the cliff

and see what luck Hezz had had with the trammel overnight.

Suddenly he stopped short and stood staring down at the cliff shelf,

hardly believing it was true, for there below him in a row stood four

great pairs of stiff flannel trousers in four pairs of heavy fisherman's

boots, just as if the men's wives had put them out in the sunshine

against the old wooden rail to sweeten and dry out some of the damp

salt, in case their wearers should come back.

But Lance Penwith had lived there too long to be deceived by such a

sight as that, and uttering a cry of amazement he began trying to break

his neck by a heavy fall before he arrived safely on the broad shelf, to

yell out, "Ship ahoy!"

Then, and then only, did the biggest and broadest pair of trousers begin

to move, and a great shaggy head turned to show a dark mahogany face

fringed with stiff white hair.

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

"Master Lahnce, lad!" cried the old man, making a grab at the boy's hand

with one of his huge paws, clapping the other upon it, and working it up

and down slowly as he said, "The old 'ooman's told me all about it, and

I says, humble and thankful like, God bless yer!"

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

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

"But you've come back," cried Lance, trying in vain to free his hand,

for the others wanted to shake it, and Billy Poltree had to be content

with the left, while the other men ornamented the boy with fleshly

epaulettes in the shape of a hand apiece on the shoulders.

"Ay, my lad, we've come back," said Old Poltree solemnly, "for it's

weary months and months as we four has been in desert lands up the

eastern parts and up the norrard coasties; but it's allus been with a

long look-out for the native land as we felt as we must see once more

afore we died. We bore it all as long as we could, and then we said we'd

get home and see our wives and bairns, and then they might take us and

send us away across the main, for it arn't been living, has it, my

sons?"

There was a tremendous _No!_ and plenty of answering of eagerly put

questions before Lance could get away and run panting up to where the

squire and his mother were sitting at home.

"They've come back--they've come back!" he shouted, and then he stood as

if struck dumb at the thought of what he had done--raced off to tell the

only magistrate for miles round that the fugitive smugglers had returned

as if to give themselves up.

[Illustration: "Master Lahnce, lad!" cried the old man, making a grab at

the boy's hand.]

A few questions followed, and Mrs. Penwith sat gazing anxiously from

husband to son and back again, for the same thought occurred to her as

had flashed upon her boy--"What will he say?" But it was something quite

different from anything they expected.

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

cold. Come along."

Lance stared.

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

"So those smuggling rascals have come back? Well, I always expected they

would. A nice long lesson they've had. Well, knowing what I do, I shall

not take any steps unless I am obliged by pressure from Falmouth. Then,

of course, I must. They are your friends, Lance, not mine; and I suppose

they have quite given up smuggling."

"Yes, father," cried the boy; "Old Poltree told me, with tears in his

eyes, that if he had known what was to come of it he would never have

touched keg or bale. They'll never smuggle again."

"Let them prove it while they have a chance, my boy; it may tell in

their favour when they are arrested and sent for trial."

"But this is a very out-of-the-way place," he said afterwards to Mrs.

Penwith, "and I don't think any one will trouble them, for the matter is

almost forgotten now."

"But ought you to----"

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

Lance had rushed off again to tell his friends on the cliff how his

father had taken their return.

"BY DEFAULT OF THE ENGINEER"

BY FRANKLIN FOX

LATE CAPTAIN P. & O. CO. SERVICE

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

I

"Ye'll hae the gudeness, Mr. Williams, to be vary parteecular in having

the coals trimmed in the bunkers. I've nae been doon in yon bunkers

mysel', and I hae nae time at this moment to gang there; but I mind

hearin' tell that there's something peculiar about the construction of

them, so I'll thank ye to gie your attention to the matter, as I maun

gang awa' to the office the noo."

Mr. Williams, the second engineer, gave a rather gruff and surly

response to the order of his chief, who immediately afterwards turned

away and went on shore.

I, who was the third officer of the _Serampore_, upon the main-deck of

which vessel the above colloquy took place, was standing in the main

hatchway attending to the stowage of the cargo, and took but little heed

of the circumstance at the time, though events which took place

subsequently brought it to my mind.

Owing to some derangement of the Company's lines of service in the Red

Sea, it had been necessary to bring forward for immediate duty the old

_Serampore_, a side-wheeler, which, in consequence of the recent

introduction of screw-steamers into our fleet, was beginning to be

classed amongst the obsolete ones. Orders had been given by the agent

at Bombay, where the ship was lying, to have the vessel got ready for

sea at once and despatched to Aden and Suez, where her services were

required to take the place of another ship in the regular line of

Eastern communication.

The captain, officers, and engineers had all been hurriedly selected

from other vessels and appointed to this ship, the second engineer

having been the only officer in charge while she was laid up. He had

expected, with much confidence, that he would have been made chief

engineer in the event of the ship being wanted again, and, no doubt,

felt a considerable soreness at a chief engineer from another ship being

put over his head.

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

"Have you got much more room there, Hardy? There are two more boat-loads

of stuff coming alongside now."

"Yes, plenty of room, sir," replied I, and was soon busily engaged in

superintending the safe stowage of boxes of tea, cases of indigo, and

the other articles that composed our cargo. On the upper deck there was

a constant stream of coolies shooting the baskets of coal down into the

bunkers on both sides of the deck, through the small round holes which

had been made for that purpose, and which were fitted with iron plates

for covers let in flush with the deck, when closed.

From the fact that such a ship as the old paddle-steamer _Serampore_ was

still available for service, it will be readily understood that the

incidents I am about to relate did not happen yesterday. In fact it was

before the days when the Suez Canal was opened; and consequently, when

it was known in Bombay that an extra P. & O. ship was put upon the

berth, several officers and others who had come from up country, and

were waiting for the regular mail to start to England, seized this

opportunity, with the idea of getting a few more days in Egypt than they

would otherwise have been able to secure.

In due time the _Serampore_ was coaled and her cargo all in, so she

slipped her moorings at Masagon and took up her berth off the Apollo

Bunder, where her passengers were to join her. As it was in the end of

the month of July, we anticipated meeting the south-west monsoon in its

greatest force, and had prepared for this by sending down all the

_Serampore's_ upper spars, lowering the topmasts half-way down the lower

masts, the backstays being "snaked" across and across the fore and main

rigging on both sides, while the fore and main yards only were kept up

aloft, and the trysail gaffs, with their respective sails.

[Illustration: "A quiet smoke."]

The _Serampore_, as it was the fashion with steam-ships of that period,

had a goodly show of top hamper when she was all a-taunto, and stripped

in the manner which I have just described, she appeared, in my eyes, to

present a melancholy aspect, something like a skinned rabbit. But as I

had only recently been enjoying sea life as a midshipman in a large

sailing-ship, that fact may excuse the comparison in which I indulged as

to her appearance.

We were to sail next morning at nine o'clock, and the evening was passed

by the chief and second officers and myself in a quiet smoke and a chat

about things in general.

"What's the new skipper like, Mr. Urquhart?" said the second officer;

"do you know anything of him?"

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

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

"Skeed," replied the chief officer. "He was in the Navy once. I believe

his nickname there was 'Donkey Skeed.'"

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

appearance?"

"Oh no; not on account of his ears," replied the chief, "but on account

of his obstinacy. When he once gets an idea in his head, nothing in the

world will ever knock it out of him."

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

"Oh, I remember hearing about him at home from a naval man I knew who

was messmate with him on the West Coast."

"Well," said the second officer, "there isn't much to be obstinate about

at present, except fighting the south-west monsoon."

"Exactly," replied Urquhart; "and from what he said to me to-day that's

just the very thing he's got in his head. He's got a new idea, he says,

which he is going to try."

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

"Well, he thinks that, instead of steering a direct course for Aden

right in the teeth of the monsoon, it would be better policy to edge

away across the Arabian Sea on a nor'-west course, making the monsoon a

leading wind, because he declares it his opinion that on the Arabian

coast the monsoon will be either much lighter or have drawn more to the

southward."

"What did you say to that?"

"Oh, I said I thought it might be so, but that we should have to

traverse considerably more distance; to which he replied that the speed

at which the ship would travel under the improved conditions of weather

would make up for that."

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

"Nor I," said Mr. Urquhart. "But I believe he's going to try it this

voyage anyhow. Good-night, you fellows; I'm going to turn in."

Early next morning several bunder-boats came alongside. The bunder-boats

of Bombay, I may mention, are the most convenient water-carriages

possible, and very suitable for the wet and blowy weather prevailing in

the monsoon. They are large, roomy boats, with a covered-in cabin in the

after-part, capable of holding four or five people comfortably. They are

rigged with two short masts and a _patémar_, or lateen sail, and carry a

strong crew. The first passengers to appear were two ladies, two

children, and an ayah. These proved to be Mrs. Woodruff, her sister Miss

Reed, and her two children, the lady having been ordered home from

Allahabad, where her husband's regiment was stationed, on account of her

health. A captain and subaltern of the same regiment, invalided; then

two officers, Captains Thompson and Shaw, from Poonah, with their wives,

going home on furlough; a professor from the university, named Spiller;

and two more ladies, wives of civil servants, made up the number. While

the fourth officer was busy looking after the baggage, and before he

had well got it out of the gangway, the quartermaster of the watch

called out--

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

"Shove that bunder-boat off, out of the way! Clear the gangway there!"

and in another minute the _Serampore's_ white gig flashed up alongside,

and Captain Skeed sprang up the accommodation ladder.

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

he asked--

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

"Yes, sir."

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

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

draught this morning."

"She appeared to me, as I pulled off in my gig, to be eight or nine

inches at least, if not more."

"I thought she would do better in monsoon weather a little by the stern,

but I'd no idea she was as much as that, and there's nothing in the

cargo stowage that I'm aware of to account for it," said the chief

officer.

"Well, I don't know that it matters very much," rejoined the captain;

"at all events, we can't alter it now. See everything ready for slipping

from the buoy at nine o'clock. Now we'll have breakfast," added he, as

eight bells struck. "Has the purser come off with the ship's papers

yet?"

"Not yet, sir; but he's been gone some time. I expect he'll be here

every minute," replied Mr. Urquhart, as they entered the saloon

together.

At the appointed hour the _Serampore_ slipped from her buoy, and

steaming away through the shipping at anchor, soon passed the light

vessel, and leaving Colaba lighthouse on her quarter, began to breast

the heavy seas and face the rain and spray that the fierce monsoon

blast drove against her. In half-an-hour's time nothing was visible but

the white-capped waves pounding against her bows, dimly seen at times

through the thick driving rain that enveloped her, as it were, in a

dreary and isolated world of her own.

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

"This is a pleasant prospect," thought I to myself, as I buttoned up my

oilskins and ascended the bridge ladder to relieve Mr. Urquhart at eight

o'clock.

"Keep her west-sou'-west," said that officer, "and call the captain if

there is any change."

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

"Five and a half," replied the chief officer; "twelve revolutions. Keep

a good look-out for ships, Mr. Hardy."

"Ay, ay, sir," said I. "There's one comfort, that we can't change to

much worse weather than we've got."

"No," said he with a laugh, as the _Serampore_ buried her broad bows

right up to the heel of her bowsprit, over an extra heavy sea.

The chief officer and his satellite, the fourth, who kept watch with

him, after divesting themselves of their oilskins, betook themselves to

the comfortable and well-lighted saloon, where such of the ladies and

gentlemen as had not succumbed to the influences of the weather and the

diving of the ship, were endeavouring to get up a show of sociability;

though not even Miss Reed, who had struck me at dinner as being a

lively, agreeable, and pretty person, had courage enough to attempt a

performance on the piano.

"I wonder how many days we're in for of this," thought I to myself, as I

paced the bridge, the pitching of the vessel jerking me against the rail

at every other step. "Let me see--it's about 1700 miles to Aden, I

think. At the rate we're going, we shall have nearly a fortnight of

this. It's enough to make one savage;" and to relieve my feelings, I

immediately yelled out to the two look-out men who were on the

forecastle (Lascars, of course)--

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

"_Acha, sahib_" ("Very well, sir"), came back like a shot from the men

on duty, who were getting soused every now and then by the seas that

broke over the bows.

The night was dark as well as thick. The wind howled shrilly through the

_Serampore's_ rigging, giving me a melancholy accompaniment to my march

backwards and forwards across the bridge platform. I kept a bright

look-out for any ships that might be about, as we were just now in the

track of vessels bound up to Kurrachee or the Persian Gulf, and I knew

that there would be scanty time to do anything to avoid a collision

should we chance to meet one. Nothing, however, happened to disturb the

dull monotony of what sailors would describe as a regular pile-driving

business.

At eight bells (midnight) I was glad to deliver up my charge to Mr.

Sinclair, the second officer, and betake myself to my comfortable cabin

and repose, which not even the staggering and pitching of the

_Serampore_, nor the dash of the spray and rain against my cabin, which

was on deck, could disturb.

The next day the weather seemed to be, if possible, worse than it was

when we started. The seas were heavier and more irregular, and the wind

seemed to blow even harder than it had done. During my forenoon watch

the log only showed five knots an hour, and the sky was so thick with

rain and mist that we got no sights. Some of the passengers made their

appearance on deck, and tried to take constitutionals, pacing fore and

aft the raised quarter-deck, but soon gave the attempt up as hopeless,

and went below to amuse themselves with books or chess, cards or

conversation.

My night watch was only a repetition of previous experience, and I fear

it would tire my readers if I favoured them with a longer description of

the wind, the sea, and the weather. It is necessary to make a voyage in

the south-west monsoon before any one can quite realise what it means.

The best description of it I can give in a few words is, a lengthened

duration of a south-west gale in the English Channel, with thick weather

and a temperature of about seventy-five or eighty degrees.

On the fourth day out, I was keeping the forenoon watch as usual, and

had left the bridge for a moment or two to compare the standard with the

binnacle compasses, and as I passed the saloon companion, which had a

hood over it facing aft, I saw Miss Reed with one of her sister's little

girls standing at the top of the ladder. Of course I lifted my cap and

wished her good-morning.

"Do you think we shall have any better weather soon, Mr. Hardy?" she

asked. "I've been watching those great seas shoot up under the stern of

the ship, and they do look so cruel and savage that it positively

frightens one."

"I'm afraid there's not much chance of any real improvement till we get

to Aden," said I; "but there's nothing that you need be frightened

about, for the old ship is as sound as a bell, and is fighting her way

on as well as we could expect under the circumstances."

"My sister's a very poor sailor," said she, "and I don't believe she'd

have come if she had thought it was going to be anything like this."

I had taken a step aft towards the binnacle, remembering that I was in

charge of the deck, and that talking to passengers on duty was not

exactly in harmony with the Company's regulations, when the _Serampore_,

after making a moderate dive, encountered an unusually heavy sea, which

threw her nose up into the air, as it were, and Miss Reed, having for

the moment relaxed her hold upon the companion-rail, was, with the

child, shot out upon the deck as if she had been flung by a gigantic

catapult. The child was rolling towards the rail, where there was only a

slight netting, which, if it parted, as being old it very likely might

with her weight, would leave nothing between her and the raging sea

beneath, when I made a desperate bound forward and caught a firm grip of

her dress. At the same time swinging myself round, I was able with my

left arm to arrest the headlong rush of Miss Reed against the corner of

the skylight, towards which she was helplessly thrown. But the impetus

with which she was flung was so great that I could only save myself from

falling by pressing my back against the skylight.

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

In a minute she recovered herself, and seizing the child in her arms,

she gave me a grateful look, and murmuring her thanks, allowed me to

hand her down the companion.

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

cabin door.

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

Hardy."

"Ay, ay, sir. Quartermaster, tell Mr. Urquhart and Mr. Stewart that they

are wanted by the captain."

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

As I resumed my walk on the bridge, I confess I felt some curiosity to

know what the subject of the colloquy going on in the captain's cabin

might be, for I was sure that something or other of importance must be

under discussion. I had not long to wait for one result, at all events,

of the deliberations. Directly we made it twelve o'clock, and the second

officer had handed in to the captain the ship's position by dead

reckoning, for we had seen neither sun, moon, nor stars since we left

Bombay, I received orders to alter the course.

"Keep her away to west-north-west, Mr. Hardy," shouted the captain from

the quarter-deck; "and set the fore and aft sails with a single reef in

them."

"Port four points, quartermaster," said I; "keep her west-north-west.

_Serang, sub adimee seeah carro seede mar_" ("Boatswain, pipe all hands

make sail").

In a few minutes the trysails were opened out, the reef points tied, and

the sails set, together with the fore topmast staysail. The monsoon was

blowing from about south-west by south, so that with the sheets hauled

flat aft they were just clean full, the luffs only lifting a little as

the ship dived over the heavy seas. The alteration in the course brought

the sea much broader on the _Serampore's_ bow, some of the waves, in

fact, coming nearer her beam than her bow, but the canvas steadied her

greatly. She only shipped half the quantity of water that she had been

doing, and although her progress was not greatly accelerated, she went

along much more steadily and comfortably than she had done hitherto. As

soon as the sails were set and the men piped to dinner, Sinclair came up

on the bridge to relieve me.

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

"Oh yes," replied Sinclair; "the captain's determined to try his plan of

making the Arabian coast where the wind will help him, and then steaming

up along the land to Aden. From what Urquhart said, he wanted to be sure

about the coals, as we shall have a considerably longer distance to

cover by the new route."

"I hope he hasn't made a mistake," said I; and leaving Mr. Sinclair in

charge, I went off to work up the day's reckoning and have my lunch.

For the next five or six days the _Serampore_ was kept on the same

course with the same canvas set; and it certainly appeared that the

captain's theory was an accurate one, for as we approached the coast of

Arabia the monsoon blew rather less fiercely, and favoured our progress

a little more, so that the _Serampore_ had been making six and six and a

half knots by the log, instead of five and five and a half as she had

been making before the course was altered.

On the forenoon of the tenth day from our leaving Bombay the weather

cleared up a little just before noon, as it frequently does, and gazing

intently ahead, I fancied that I could see through the haze of rain that

still remained, a darker appearance ahead than there would be with mere

mist. At this moment the captain came up on the bridge. I pointed this

out to him at once, exclaiming--

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

"So it does, Mr. Hardy," said the captain. "Unless I'm very much out in

my reckoning, we ought to make Gebel Camar, or the Mountains of the

Moon, as they are called, very soon, and probably what you see is really

the land."

At this moment Mr. Stewart, the chief engineer, came up the bridge

ladder in an excited and hasty manner. A glance at his face told me,

before he opened his lips, that something was wrong.

"Captain Skeed, I've just made the discovery that the large pockets in

both the foremost bunkers are empty, and we haena got more than a few

hours' steaming in the ship."

"Good heavens! Why you told me the other day that we had eight or ten

days' full steaming in the ship."

"I know I did, sir, but I reckoned upon fifty tons in the twa pockets.

It appears now that that fellow Williams, who, I may say, has behaved

more like a deevil than a mon all the voyage, never fashed himsel' to

see the coals trimmed into the pockets, as I gave him orders to do in

Bombay."

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

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

seen to it mysel'."

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

"Nor anybody else," said Mr. Stewart. "They're just bunkers within the

bunkers. Ye can't get to them frae the deck, and to fill 'em with coal

it has to be passed in by the trimmers through a hole that's cut in the

bulkhead."

"Confound such contrivances!" exclaimed the captain, stamping his foot

on the bridge. "Well, Mr. Stewart, we must make a sailing-ship of her,

that's all. There's the land, and we shall have to keep clear of it

under canvas. How long will it take you to disconnect?"

"I dinna ken, sir, that ye can disconnect the paddle-wheels at all; and

anyhow, if it's possible to do it, the gear will be set as fast as a

rock, for I doubt if they've been disconnected since she was built."

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

"There's muckle sea on for a job o' that sort; but maybe by lifting the

paddle-flaps at the top we could take the upper ones off."

"Then keep enough steam so as to move the wheels as required, and set

all your engineers to work to unscrew the bolts and take the floats

off."

"Vera weel, sir," said the engineer, and in a few minutes the four

engineers and the boiler maker with all the firemen mounted the

paddle-boxes with spanners and hammers, and set to work unscrewing the

nuts and removing the floats as fast as they could, the engines in the

meantime having been stopped.

The chief officer was then summoned by the captain to commence

immediately re-rigging the ship. As the top-masts had to be swayed up

and fidded, topsail-yards crossed, and top-gallant mast sent up, besides

all the sails being bent to the yards, every soul of the ship's company

was fully occupied for the rest of the day.

During all this time the _Serampore_ was gradually drifting towards the

land, which became more distinct as we approached it.

By sunset the engineers had succeeded in getting off all the floats, the

engines having been turned gently to move the wheels as required, and

the sailor part of the ship's company had got matters so far advanced

that we were able to set reefed topsails and courses upon the ship. The

captain then summoned all of us officers to his cabin.

I could see that he had not even yet recovered from the exasperation

caused him by what had taken place.

"I have sent for you all," he said, "to ask your opinions on the

situation. It's no use to attempt to work the ship to Aden under canvas.

I propose, therefore, to heave-to till daylight, and then run into one

of the bays on the coast to leeward of us. I see there is one marked on

the chart between Seger and Kalfat, near the town of Doan, and if I can

make that without running up against any rocks I shall anchor the ship

there. Has any one anything better to propose?"

We all said no, and the council broke up.

In accordance with the decision arrived at, the _Serampore_ was hove-to

for the night. At daylight next morning all sail was made on her, and

with wind abaft the beam she ran in for the spot which Captain Skeed had

indicated as suitable for his purpose.

The coast stood out barren and rocky, but there was a break in it

visible right ahead. With the lead going, and a sharp look-out for

rocks, we sailed into a small bight or bay under the lee of Seger Point,

and let go her anchor in thirteen fathoms. As the cable was veered out

she swung round head to wind and sea with her stern inland; but as she

tautened her cable a crash sounded from aft, and we felt her stern bump

upon a sunken rock.

"My God!" exclaimed Captain Skeed, "the ship is lost," and he fell upon

the deck insensible. We carried him into his cabin, and the doctor was

immediately summoned, but all his efforts to restore animation were

unavailing. Captain Skeed was dead.

II

Although the position taken up by the _Serampore_ was somewhat sheltered

from the force of the monsoon by a projecting point of land, still there

was a heavy swell in the little bight or bay where she was, which broke

upon the rocky and barren shores around her with an incessant roar and

clouds of spray. The swell lifted her stern again and again, causing her

to strike heavily as each succeeding wave swept under her. At last with

a final heavy bumping crash which carried away her after spars, she

settled down upon the rocks, which were afterwards found to be the end

of a reef stretching out from the land, partially visible above water at

certain times of the tide.

The sudden and untimely death of Captain Skeed spread a feeling of

consternation and horror through the ship, and aggravated the anxiety

which the passengers felt at their situation.

Mr. Urquhart, of course, had to take the direction of affairs, and when

he met the passengers at dinner he had a difficult task before him.

The ship appeared to be now fixed firmly upon the rocks at her stern,

and her anchor kept her from moving in any direction. The water could be

heard rushing in through the damaged plates at the stern, and in order

to prevent her sinking altogether when the water filled her forward, Mr.

Urquhart caused the after part of the ship to be blocked up with an old

sail against the leaky places, and spare iron plates and boards wedged

against it to keep the water back.

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

with questions.

"Can you tell us whereabouts we are, Mr. Urquhart? What part of the

coast are we upon?" asked Professor Spiller.

"The ship is about one hundred and fifty miles south of the Kuria-Muria

Islands in one direction, and between four and five hundred in the other

from Aden."

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

Captain Shaw.

"His idea was, that lying here in smoother water, he might be able to

remove the ironwork of the paddle-wheels, which would render the ship

unmanageable under canvas, and then he intended, I believe, either to

sail her back to Bombay, or to wait until the monsoon broke, and try to

reach Aden."

"Poor fellow, poor Captain Skeed, I'm sure he would have done the best

thing possible," exclaimed Mrs. Woodruff.

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

done now?"

"Of course," said Mr. Urquhart, "that plan is knocked on the head now.

The ship is, to all intents and purposes, a wreck."

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

professor.

"Not a very encouraging one, I am afraid; there is no regular trade

along this coast," replied Mr. Urquhart.

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

"Sometimes country vessels, as they are called--ships that go trading

about to all sorts of coast ports, in the employ of native

merchants--may pass this way, bound to or from the Persian Gulf, but I

can't say I know anything at all about them."

"And how about the natives?" said the professor; "are they likely to be

friendly or hostile to us, do you suppose?"

"There, again, I am sorry I can give you no information; but I shall

make it my business to see that we are prepared to give them as warm a

reception as we can, should they attempt to molest us."

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

Thompson.

"I'm afraid that we can do nothing at all at present. Fortunately we

have plenty of provisions and water to last for a considerable time, and

all the boats are in good condition, if the weather would permit us to

make use of them. We can only prepare ourselves to resist any attack

that the natives, should they be hostile, may make upon us, and keep a

good look-out for any vessel that may be passing. If any of you,

gentlemen, can suggest anything, else, I shall be quite pleased to adopt

it."

The next day Captain Skeed's body was taken on shore to be buried. Mr.

Urquhart had caused a grave to be dug in the sand, near a remarkable

mass of rock about some five hundred yards from the beach. Several of

the passengers, and all the ship's company, attended the funeral, all

the ship's boats being lowered when the time came; and after the funeral

service had been read by the purser, a heap of stones of all sizes,

collected by the crew, was piled upon the grave.

I cast my eyes around me as I watched this melancholy performance, but I

could see nothing in the distance in the shape of a living creature. It

was all a trackless waste of sand and rocks.

After we returned on board, Mr. Urquhart sent for the chief engineer,

and told him to bring Mr. Williams, the second engineer, on the

quarter-deck. When he appeared, Mr. Urquhart said--

"It was Captain Skeed's intention to have disrated you from your

position as second engineer, in consequence of your gross neglect in

omitting to see the ship's bunkers properly filled with coal, and for

your insubordinate conduct to the chief engineer."

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

mine," replied Williams.

"Silence if you please, sir. Under the present circumstances I do not

propose to carry out the intention of the late captain; but I must tell

you that entries relating to your conduct have been made in the official

log-book of this ship, and that any further steps in the matter will be

left to the decision of the managing directors of the Company when we

are able to get away from this place. I hope, if you have an

opportunity, you will endeavour to redeem your past misconduct, which

has entailed such terrible consequences upon the _Serampore_, and

everybody on board of her."

Mr. Williams made no reply, but turned and went below. After he had

gone, Mr. Stewart remarked--

"He's nae such a bad chiel, I'm thinking, at bottom, but he was mad

because he didna get the berth himsel'."

After these occurrences the days began to pass by with a dreary

monotony. Every morning when I got up, it was with the expectation that

something or other would happen soon, and every night when I turned in,

it was with the same uneasy feeling of anticipation or dread hanging

about me. Mr. Urquhart ordered the watches to be kept regularly, as if

we were at sea, and during the day a look-out man was kept at the

mast-head to watch for a passing sail. The mizzen-mast, with most of its

gear, and the main-top mast had been carried away by the successive

shocks of the ship bumping on the rocks, but everything stood forward.

The second officer was ordered to get up and examine what quantity of

powder and ammunition there was in the ship. We had a stand containing a

dozen muskets and also a few cutlasses, together with a dozen

boarding-pikes. These were all the small-arms belonging to the ship, and

there were two nine-pounder guns for signalling purposes mounted on the

quarter-deck.

"Don't you think," said I, "'twould be a good plan to have some

cartridges made, in case of anything happening?"

"Happy thought, Hardy," said Sinclair. "We'll get the powder up on the

saloon table, and perhaps the ladies will help us. Hold on a bit, how

about the bullets?"

"Ah, lucky thing you thought of that. We must get old Stewart to put his

men on to cast some for us, if we can find any lead."

I ran off immediately to hunt up the carpenter, who fortunately found a

big roll of lead in the bottom of his storeroom, which was soon in the

course of being transformed into bullets by some of the firemen.

I remembered also that a couple of kegs of powder for our agent at Aden

had been shipped with the cargo, and these were soon got out and the

contents utilised for large and small cartridges. After all this had

been done, time hung heavy on our hands. Nobody seemed to be in good

spirits enough to start any amusement, and a week of the most depressing

inaction passed away. All this time not the vestige of a native had been

seen anywhere in the vicinity of the ship.

The military men on board seemed to feel the situation almost

unbearable.

"I'll tell you what it is," said Rivers, the subaltern of Colonel

Woodruff's corps, to the other military passengers one morning, "I can't

stand this sort of thing any longer. Let's make up a party and try and

ascend that mountain there."

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

"We might find something to shoot," said Captain Shaw. "We've all got

our rifles with us, haven't we?"

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

something."

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

moment.

"Oh! we're thinking of doing a kind of picnic up the mountain yonder.

Will you join us, professor? You might be able to enrich science with

specimens of the flora and fauna of this howling wilderness," said

Rivers.

"I doubt if there's any great surprise for science hidden about here;

but I shall be very pleased to join the party. When is it to be?" said

the professor.

"Oh! shall we start to-morrow?"

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

"Agreed!" cried the rest.

"Very well, then," said Rivers. "You fellows get your rifles all ready,

and revolvers if you've got any, and I'll go and interview the purser

for a hamper of prog. And look here, Thompson, just ask Urquhart to let

young Hardy come with us, and half-a-dozen Lascars."

"To carry the game, eh, Rivers?"

"Just so; we may find them useful."

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

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

"I think you'd better leave the women out of it," said Captain Staveley;

"I shouldn't like to have the responsibility on my mind if anything did

happen, you know, and I fancy we're going to make rather a leap in the

dark."

"All right," rejoined Rivers. "Then we'll start at daylight to-morrow.

What do you say, you chaps?"

Everybody agreed to this proposal; and I shortly had a message telling

me that the chief wanted me.

"There's a sporting party going out to-morrow, Hardy. You take six hands

with you, armed with cutlasses, and go with the party. You must use your

own discretion and act according to circumstances."

Next morning we all set off at the appointed hour, having been landed on

some rocks at a little distance from the ship. The Lascars appeared to

enjoy the chance of stretching their legs, and followed in the steps of

the party led by Mr. Rivers, chattering like schoolboys out for a

holiday.

"We'll make for that spur that sticks out seawards half-way up the

mountain," said Rivers. "I've got a compass on my watch-chain, and it

bears just a little to the west of south from us, so we shall know the

opposite bearing will take us back to the ship."

"That's a very sensible precaution of yours," said the professor. "How

many miles do you reckon we are from the foot of the mountain?"

"Five or six miles," was the reply.

"Come on then, step out; we shall have the sun directly, and climbing

will be no joke then," said Shaw.

So we all trudged along at a round pace. I had taken the precaution to

bring a revolver with me that Mr. Urquhart lent me, and a fowling-piece

and a pocketful of cartridges of my own.

After we had tramped along for about an hour over the sandy plain, and

lost sight of the ship, which was hidden by projecting rocks, we reached

the foot of the mountain, and found a sort of track which led us into a

narrow gorge overhung by rocks on each side. We penetrated through this

for about a quarter of a mile. At the end of it there were two tracks

visible, one leading up the side of the mountain, and the other,

branching to the left, seemed to lead to habitations of some kind, for

the road was a beaten track, and the professor declared that he could

see smoke in the air at a distance.

"Here's a parting of the ways," said Rivers. "Shall we start to ascend

the mountain? Shall we follow the road, which may lead us to some

habitations? or shall we sit down and have our tiffin?"

Rivers' proposals being put to the vote, that for tiffin was carried

unanimously; so finding the softest stones for seats, we very soon

disposed of the provender in our hamper, the Lascars refreshing

themselves in their own fashion.

"Now, I think," said Rivers, "as we haven't met with anything of

interest during our walk, we'd better go and see if there really is a

village there, and what it's like."

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

hut."]

Accordingly we set off upon the track leading to the left, and after a

quarter of an hour's walk, turning an abrupt corner formed by a huge

boulder, we came upon a number of huts clustered together. There were

some palm-trees growing in the midst. No doubt this was one of the oases

that are said to be dotted about the country. We had not made many more

steps in the direction of the village, when a wild-looking figure, half

naked, his long reddish-coloured hair standing upright on his head,

darted out from behind a boulder ahead of us, and uttering a wild yell,

rushed off towards the nearest hut.

"Gentlemen, let me advise all of you to look to your arms, and see they

are ready for use," said Rivers, "for we shall soon know now whether we

have fallen amongst friends or foes."

We all halted for a moment and examined our rifles and guns, and I

called to the Lascars to keep close to us and be prepared to use their

cutlasses at a moment's notice. A few more steps brought us amongst the

huts of the village, from which men, women, and children stared at us

with looks of wonder. The fellow who had first descried us still ran on

ahead, and we followed him until we were in the centre of what appeared

to be a considerably large settlement. He had never ceased uttering his

hideous yell as he went along, and on entering an open square, which had

a hut bigger than the rest on one side of it, probably the abode of the

chief, a crowd of at least fifty natives, similar in appearance to the

one we had first seen, but all armed with spears and matchlocks of a

very ancient construction, leapt as it were from the ground, and stood

in a compact body before us in front of the large hut.

As we neared them some handled their spears and some their matchlocks,

and I thought that the critical moment had come when we should have to

fight for our lives.

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

us drew ourselves up.

"Now, professor, you speak Arabic, don't you? Try them with a little

soft sawder first, will you. We don't want to fight unless we're

obliged. There isn't much to be gained by it."

The professor immediately stepped three paces in front, and calling out,

"Salaam, Aleikum," addressed a sentence in Arabic to the group.

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

"What was it you said?" asked Rivers.

"We are friends, and want to see the chief," answered the professor.

"But I can't understand a word of their talk. I fancy these people of

the Seger region have a distinct dialect of their own."

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

beggars, you?"

The only response to this was another wild yell and another shower of

gibberish, accompanied by a flourish of the spears.

At this instant a noise was heard from the hut in the rear of the rows

of natives drawn up in front, and the line opened in the middle, when a

tall grey-bearded Arab, with a long camel-hair burnoose over his

shoulders, and a polished wooden spear in his hand, stepped forward a

few paces.

The professor immediately addressed him with the ordinary Eastern

salutation, of which the chief took but little notice, making a remark

which the professor understood to mean that our presence was not

welcome. Unwilling to leave matters in this unsatisfactory position, the

professor harangued the chief in Arabic, uttering the most friendly

sentiments, and expressing a desire to purchase dates or any commodities

that his highness the sheik might have to dispose of.

I was unable to gather whether the sheik understood this speech or no. I

am disposed to think that he did; but the only answer he vouchsafed to

it was to extend his spear in the direction whence we had come, and to

utter three words in such an unmistakable tone of wrath and contempt

that we all understood it to mean, as the professor afterwards said it

did, "Infidel dogs, begone!"

After this there was nothing for it but to retreat in as good order as

possible. Rivers gave the word to march, telling us to look behind us at

every other step. Before we had taken three steps the sheik uttered a

loud command, and the natives vanished from the square in the same rapid

manner in which they had presented themselves.

As we passed by their huts we were greeted with shrill cries of derision

by the women and children standing in the entrances.

From a hasty glance I threw at them the women appeared not by any means

bad-looking, but very similar in character to those you may see in the

native town at Aden, light copper colour, with a profusion of dark hair

and large dark eyes.

As we entered the narrow defile or gorge by which we had reached the

village, Rivers, who was bringing up the rear, called out to us, "Look

out now, and be steady. If they're going to molest us it will be here."

The words were scarcely out of his mouth when the hideous yells, now

familiar to us, arose on either side.

"Halt!" said Rivers. "Form two lines back to back facing the sides of

the gorge. Make ready, they'll be on us in a minute," and as he spoke,

about fifty of them on each side dashed towards us. When they were

within five yards of us, Rivers gave the word to fire, and down went

four or five of the leading savages on each side. This gave them a

momentary check, and Rivers instantly called out, "Give 'em your second

barrels, sharp."

This we did promptly, and the natives stopped and seemed as if about to

fly, for our volley had done great execution.

"Now, then," said Rivers, "run for it before they recover themselves,

but keep together."

As we started to run the natives hurled a shower of spears at us. One

grazed Rivers' arm, making the blood come; another pierced the Lascar by

my side to the heart, and the poor fellow fell dead; another went

through the professor's _solar topee_, causing him to utter exclamations

of rage and despair. But we pushed on as hard as we could go for the

ship. The natives, we could see, hung behind us in a cloud, their

numbers appearing to have been considerably augmented; they, however,

took care to keep out of the range of our guns.

In an hour's time we regained the deck of the _Serampore_, the natives

still following in the distance.

I rushed up to Mr. Urquhart, and in a few words explained to him what

had occurred, whereupon he instantly ordered all hands to be called, and

got our two nine-pounders aft loaded, and pointed towards the shore

opposite the stern of the ship. The ladies behaved with wonderful

coolness and courage when they heard that an attack might be expected

from the natives, and offered their services as nurses or in any other

way in which they might be useful.

In the meantime a great crowd of natives were assembling on the shore

opposite the ship, at which their leaders were pointing and uttering

wild cries of defiance. Their only means of approach was either by

swimming, or by the irregular causeway that the rocks of the reef

provided, and that would not admit of a large number walking abreast.

After a brief pause, however, they made a forward movement, and with

loud cries dashed, some through the water and some on the reef, with the

evident idea of boarding the ship. Those who had matchlocks fired them

off at us, but without doing any damage. Every man in the ship for whom

there was a musket, or who possessed a rifle or gun of any description,

was employed under the second officer in picking off the men on the reef

or those in the water. But as fast as they dropped off the rocks they

were replaced by others, and the numbers on shore seemed to be augmented

from time to time by men coming in various directions from one knew not

where.

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

After a time Mr. Urquhart tried the effect of the nine-pounders, which

did great execution amongst the crowd; but he was obliged to be very

careful, on account of the limited number of shot he had, and the not

very large supply of powder. The shot we supplemented with small canvas

bags of old nails and iron bolts, which made a very good substitute for

grape-shot. The fight lasted under these conditions till sunset, not one

of the natives having got nearer the ship than to touch her on the

outside. The attack then ceased for a time, and we had leisure to

refresh ourselves.

When I took my watch I could hear the sound of the multitude on shore,

who would no doubt recommence the attack in the morning. The night was

calm and still, for the monsoon had broken, and now only blew at

intervals in moderate breezes.

I had an opportunity of exchanging a few words with Miss Reed when she

came up on deck for a few moments.

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

"Not at all," said I. "I trust you'll keep your spirits up. I've no

doubt we shall settle these fellows in the morning."

"I hope you will; and oh how I pray for a ship to come and take us away

from this terrible spot!"

"Perhaps we shall see one sooner than you expect; but keep your courage

up, dear Miss Reed, all will be well."

At early daylight, as the enemy was all massed together, Mr. Urquhart

loaded both the nine-pounders to the muzzle with his own particular

grape, and pointing them carefully into the midst of the crowd, where

the leaders were to be seen, discharged both simultaneously with

terrible effect, many natives being killed.

At this moment the look-out at the mast-head shouted out at the top of

his voice, "Sail O! a ship in sight near the land."

"Take one of the cutters, Mr. Hardy, and pull out to that vessel. Take a

flag with you to wave in the boat. Tell them our condition, and beg them

to assist us and take the people off the ship."

With what eager delight and anxiety I proceeded to obey this order the

reader can well imagine. As the weather was fine, and nearly calm, I

succeeded, after a long pull, in getting alongside the vessel. She

proved to be a "country" trader on a voyage from Bombay to Zanzibar,

whence she was now on her way to Bassora. She was called the _Cowasjee

Family_, and commanded by a smart young officer named Wilkinson, who

willingly proffered every assistance that might be required. He brought

his ship in as close to the _Serampore_ as he could, and the natives

having been demoralised by our fire, we proceeded to embark the

passengers and crew of the _Serampore_ on board his ship. He told us

that it was quite a chance he was in that locality, but he had been set

out of his course by a strong current. Every effort that Captain

Wilkinson could make for the comfort of our passengers and crew was

made, and in due time we all safely landed at Bassora. Luckily a steamer

was starting the next day for Kurrachee and Bombay, in which we all took

passage, and where we safely ended our eventful voyage.

It may be of interest to some of my readers to know that since I got my

command Miss Reed has changed her name for mine, and that we are very

happy.

There was a court of inquiry held at Bombay to ascertain the cause of

the loss of the _Serampore_, and the finding of the court was that

Captain Skeed and his officers were exonerated from all blame, the ship

having been lost "by default of the engineer."

THE KING OF SPAIN'S WILL

BY JOHN BLOUNDELLE-BURTON

CHAPTER I

I can tell you there was a pretty bustle around Paris that night when

the news came of the downfall of the old Fox--the fox being none other

than Cardinal Alberoni, who had just been turned out of Spain for his

intrigues, King Philip V. having had enough of him. Not that the man,

who had been a gardener's son, and a sort of buffoon once to the Duke of

Parma, was so wondrous old, since in this year of grace 1719 he was but

fifty-five. Only, when a man is a scheming knave, who has passed his

full prime, and is also a fox--why, one generally calls him an old one.

Now, the news of Alberoni's disgrace at Madrid came first to us at

Versailles, just about four of the afternoon, what time we of the Grey

Musketeers were going off duty, our place till midnight being taken by

those of the cavalry regiment of Vermandois, which had arrived a week

ago from Blois--came at the hands of the Comte St. Denis de Pile, who

had been sent off post-haste to Paris with the information, and also

with another piece of intelligence, at which, I protest, not one of us

could help laughing, serious enough though the thing was. This news

being none other than that the crafty old Italian, who was on his way to

Marseilles, there to embark with all his wealth for his native land, had

absolutely carried off in his possession the will of the late King of

Spain, Charles II., in which he bequeathed his throne to the very man

who now sat upon it.

"And," exclaimed St. Denis de Pile, as he drank down a flask of Florence

wine which we produced for him in the guard-room, "I'll be sworn that he

means to send that will to the Emperor of Austria, who, if he is not a

fool, will at once destroy it. And then, poof! poof! poof!" and the

Count blew out his moustache in front of his lip, "what becomes of all

that we fought for in the War of the Succession? _Tête de mon chien!_ it

will have to begin all over again. Your countrymen, my boy," and he

slapped me affectionately on the shoulder, for we had met often enough

before, "your countrymen, the English, will want another war, King

George may be willing enough to oblige them, and the Treaty of Utrecht

may as well be used to light a fire."

Now here was what some of my countrymen call a pretty kettle of fish.

Peace was expected to be proclaimed in Europe at this moment, since the

war of the Pyrenees was over. France and England were sworn allies and

bosom friends, otherwise be sure that I, an Englishman, young and

enthusiastic, would not have been holding the commission of a cornet in

the Musketeers, and serving the Regent, or, rather, the boy king for

whom he ruled. And all in a moment it was just as likely as not that

that war might break out again through the craftiness of the Cardinal,

who, since he had fallen, evidently did not mean to do so without

pulling others down with him. For Austria had never willingly resigned

her claims on the throne of Spain, remembering that the old French King

had once formally waived all the claims of his own family to it, Will or

no Will, and had then instantly asserted them on the death of Charles;

while for my country--well! we English are not over fond of retreating

from anything we have undertaken, though, for widely-known

considerations not necessary to set down here, we had at last agreed to

that peace of Utrecht, our having thoroughly beaten the French by sea

and land before we did so, being, perhaps, the reason why we at last

came in.

"What's to be done?" said old D'Hautefeuille now, who was in command of

the Grey Musketeers at this time.

"What? What? _Le Debonnaire_ is at the Palais Royal--he must know the

news at once. De Pile, you must ride on to Paris."

"_Fichtre_ for Paris!" exclaimed the Count. "I am battered enough

already with my long ride. Think on't--from Madrid! Through storms and

burning suns, over mountains and through plains, over two hundred

leagues and across half a score of horses' backs. Also, observe--the

letter is inscribed to the Regent's Grace at Versailles. I have done my

duty----"

"But----"

"No 'buts,' D'Hautefeuille. My work is done. Let the King's lieutenant

of Versailles, who commands in his and the Regent's absence, take charge

of the paper. For me a bottle and a meal, also a bed."

"Then take it to the lieutenant," said fiery D'Hautefeuille; "hand it to

him yourself, and bid him find a courier to Paris. _Peste_! you, a royal

messenger who can ride from Madrid here, and yet cannot finish the

journey to Paris! Bah! go and get your bottle and your bed--and much

good may they do you."

Whereon the old fellow turned grumpily away, bidding some of the younger

ones amongst us not to be loitering about the galleries endeavouring to

catch the eyes of the maids of honour, but, instead, to get off to our

quarters and be ready to relieve the officers of the Vermandois regiment

at midnight.

Yet, one amongst us, at least, was not to hear the chimes of midnight

summoning us to the night guard, that one being myself, as you shall

see. Nay, not one hour later was to ring out from the palace clock ere,

as luck would have it, I was called forth from my own quarters--or

rather from the little salon of Alison de Prie (who was a maid of

honour, and who had invited me in to partake of a _pâté de bécasse_

which her father had sent her from his property near Tours) by an order

to attend on D'Hautefeuille in his quarters.

Whereon I proceeded thither and found him in a very bad temper--a thing

he suffered much from lately, since he also suffered from a gout that

teased him terribly. Then, immediately, he burst out on my putting in an

appearance.

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

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

"So! very well. Here then is something for you to do--that is, if the

turning of my officers into couriers and post-boys and lackeys

constitutes 'special service.' However, three creatures have to obey

orders in this world, soldiers, wives, and dogs, therefore I--and

you--must do so. Here, take this," and he tossed to me across his table

a mighty great letter on which was a formidable red seal--"have your

horse saddled and be off with you to Paris. Give it into the Regent's

hand. It is the account of Alberoni's disgrace which that _fainéant_ De

Pile could bring all this way, but no farther. Away with you! The King's

lieutenant seems to think that De Pile is discharged of his duty here.

Away with you! What are you stopping for? You know the road to Paris, I

suppose? You ought to. It's hard enough to keep you boys out of it if I

give you an afternoon's leave. Be off!"

So off I went, and five minutes afterwards my best grey, La Rose, was

saddled, and I was riding swiftly towards where the Regent was at the

present moment.

Now, who'd have thought when I went clattering through Sèvres and Issy,

on that fine winter afternoon, in all the bravery of my full

costume--which was the handsomest of any regiment in France, not even

excepting our comrades of the Black Musketeers--who'd have thought, I

say, that I was really taking the first steps of a long, toilsome

journey, which, ere it was ended, was to bring me pretty near to danger

and death? However, no need to anticipate, since those who read will

see.

An hour later I was in Paris, and then, even as I went swiftly along

amidst the crowds that were in the streets, especially in those streets

round about the Palais Royal, I found that one thing was very certain,

namely, that though I might be now carrying on De Pile's message from

the Court of Spain to the Court of France, the purport of it was already

known. Near the Palais Royal were numerous groups gathered, who cheered

occasionally for France and England, which did me good to hear; then for

Spain and France, which did not move me so much; while, at the same

time, I distinctly heard Alberoni's name mentioned, with, attached to

it, expressions and epithets that were anything but flattering. Also, as

I made for the entrance opposite the Louvre, people called attention to

me, saying, "_Voila le beau Mousquetaire--chut_! doubtless he rides from

Versailles. Brings confirmation of the old trickster's downfall. _Ho! le

beau Mousquetaire_." While a strident-voiced buffoon cried out to me,

asking if all my gold galloon and feathers and lace did not sometimes

get spoilt by the damp of the wintry weather, and another desired to

know if my sweetheart did not adore me in my regimental fallals?

However, La Rose made her way through them all, shaking her bridle-chain

angrily if any got before her, breathing out great gusts from her fiery

nostrils, and casting now and again the wicked white of her eye around;

she was a beauty who loved not to be pestered or interfered with. And at

last I was off her back, at the door near the Regent's apartments on the

south side, and asking for the officer of the guard; and half-an-hour

later I was in the presence of the Regent himself, who sat writing in a

little room about big enough to make a cage for a bird. Yet, in spite of

the way in which his Highness spent his evenings and nights, and also of

his supper parties and other dissipations, he did as much work in that

little cabinet as any other twelve men in France.

Because he was a very perfect gentleman--no matter what his faults were

(he answered for them to his Maker but a little while after I met

him)--he treated me exactly as though I were his equal, and bade me be

seated while he read the letter calmly; then, looking up at me, he

said--

"I knew something of this before. Even my beloved Parisians know of

it--how _they_ have learnt it Heaven alone can say. Still it is known.

Alberoni was to leave Madrid in forty-eight hours from the time of

receiving notice. But----"

Here he paused, and seemed to be reflecting deeply. Then he said aloud,

though more to himself than to me, "I wonder if he _has_ got the will?"

It not being my place to speak, I said nothing, waiting to receive

orders from him. And a moment later he again addressed me.

"You _mousquetaires_ have always the best of horses and are proud of

them. I know; I know. I have seen you riding races against each other at

Versailles and Marly. And, for endurance, they will carry you far, both

well and swiftly, in spite of your weight and trappings. Is it not so?"

"It is so, monseigneur," I answered, somewhat wonderingly, and not quite

understanding what way this talk tended.

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

two days?"

"A long way, monseigneur. Perhaps, allowing for rest for the animals,

nearer forty than thirty leagues."

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

Here he rose from his chair (I, of course, rising also), turned himself

round, and gazed at a map of France hanging on the wall; ran, too, his

finger along it from the Pyrenees in the direction of Marseilles, while,

as he did so, he muttered continually, yet loud enough to be quite

audible to me--

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

"He would cross there--there, surely. Fifteen days to quit Spain, two to

quit Madrid--seventeen altogether. From the fifth. The fifth! This is

the twelfth. Ten days still."

Then he continued to run his finger along the coast line of the

Mediterranean until it rested on Marseilles, at which he stood gazing

for some time. But now he said nothing aloud for me to listen to, though

it was evident enough that he was considering deeply; but at last he

spoke again.

"His Eminence must be met and escorted--yes, escorted--that is

it--escorted in safety through the land. Ay, in safety and safely. He

must not be molested nor--" while, though he turned his face away to

gaze at the map again, I would have been sworn that I heard him

mutter--"allowed to depart quite yet." Then he suddenly said, "Do you

know the house of the Chevalier de Marcieu? It is in the Rue des Mauvais

Garçons."

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

"Good! Therefore proceed there at once--the number is three--you are

mounted, of course? Give my orders to him that he is to come here

instantly; then return and I will give you some instructions for your

commander."

Whereon I bowed respectfully as I went to the door, the Regent smiling

pleasantly upon me. Yet, ere I left him, he said another word, asked a

question.

"You _mousquetaires gris_ have not had much exercise lately at

Versailles, I think. Have you?"

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

remounted."

"So. Very well. You shall have some exercise now. 'Twill do you good.

You shall have a change of billet for a little while. In any case,

Versailles is too luxurious a place for soldiers. Now, away with you to

Marcieu's house and bid him come here. Return also yourself. Forget not

that."

CHAPTER II

A GIRL CALLED DAMARIS

A week later, or, to be exact, six days, and the troop of Grey

Musketeers, commanded by Captain the Vicomte de Pontgibaud--which was

the one in which I rode as cornet--was making its way pleasantly enough

along the great southern road that runs down from Paris to Toulouse.

Indeed, we were very near that city now, and expected to be in it by the

time that the wintry evening had fallen. In it, and safely housed for

the night, not forgetting that the suppers of Southern France are most

excellent and comforting meals, and that the Lunel and Roussillon are

equally suited to the palate of a soldier, even though that soldier be

but twenty years old; as I was in those days, now, alas! long since

vanished.

But, ere I go on with what I have to tell, perhaps you would care to

hear in a few words how I, Adrian Trent, an Englishman, am riding as

_cornette_ or _porte drapeau_ in a _corps d'élite_ of our old hereditary

enemies, the French. Well, this is how it was. The Trents have ever been

Royalists, by which I mean that they and I, and all of our thinking,

were followers of the House of Stuart. Now, you who read this may be one

of those--or your father may have been one of those--who invited the

Elector of Hanover to come over and ascend the English throne, or you

may be what my family and I are at the present moment, Jacobites. Never

mind for that, however. You can keep your principles and we will keep

ours, and need not quarrel about them. Suffice it, therefore, if I say

that _our_ principles have led us to quit England and to take up our

abode in France. And if ever King James III. sits on--However, no matter

for that either; it concerns not this narrative.

My father was attached to the court of this King, who was just then in

temporary residence in Rome--though, also, he sojourned some time in

Spain--but, ere he followed his sovereign's errant fortunes, he obtained

for me my guidon in the Musketeers, which service is most agreeable to

me, who, from a boy, had sworn that I would be a soldier or nothing;

while, since I cannot be an English one, I must, perforce, be in the

service of France. And, as I trust that never more will France and

England be flying at each other's throats, I do hope that I may long

wear the uniform of the regiment. If not--But of that, too, we will not

speak.

To get on with what I have to tell, we rode into Toulouse just as the

winter day was coming to an end, and a brave show we made, I can assure

you, as we drew up in the great courtyard of the old "Taverne du Midi,"

a place that had been the leading hostelry ever since the dark ages. For

in that tavern, pilgrims, knights on their road to Rome and even the

Holy Land, men of different armies, wandering minstrels and troubadours,

had all been accustomed to repose; even beggars and monks (who paid for

nothing) could be here accommodated, if they chose to lie down in the

straw amongst the horses and sing a good song in return for their

supper.

And I do protest that, on this cold December night, when the icicles

were hanging a foot long from the eaves, and bitter blasts were blowing

all around the city--the north-east winds coming from away over the

Lower Alps of Savoy--you might have thought that you were back again in

those days, if you looked around the great _salle-à-manger_ of the

tavern. For in that vast room was gathered together a company which

comprised as many different kinds of people as any company could have

consisted of when met together in it in bygone ages. First, there was

the nobleman who, because he was one, had had erected round his corner a

great screen of arras by his domestics; such things being always carried

in France by persons of much distinction, since they could neither

endure to be seen by the commoner orders, nor, if they had private

rooms, could they endure to look upon the bare whitewashed walls of the

rooms, wherefore the arras was in that case hung on those walls. This

great man we did not set eyes on, he being enshrouded in his haughty

seclusion, but there was plenty else to be observed. Even now, in these

modern days of which I write, there were monks, travellers, a fantoccini

troupe, some other soldiers besides ourselves, they being of the

regiment of Perche, the intendant of the solitary lord, and ourselves.

Our troopers alone numbered twenty, they having a table to themselves;

while we, the officers, viz., the captain (De Pontgibaud), the

lieutenant (whose name was Camier), and I (the cornet), had also a table

to ourselves.

Yet, too, there was one other, and, if only from her quaint garb, a very

conspicuous person. This was a girl--and a mighty well-favoured girl

too--dark, with her hair tucked up all about her head; with superb full

eyes, and with a colour rich and brilliant as that of the Provence rose.

She made good use of those eyes, I can tell you, and seemed nothing loth

to let them encounter the glance of every one else in the room. For the

rest, she was a sort of wandering singer and juggler, clad in a short

spangled robe, carrying a _tambour de basque_ in her hand, while by her

side hung a coarse canvas bag, in which, as we soon saw, she had about a

dozen of conjuring balls.

"Who is that?" asked De Pontgibaud of the server, as he came near our

table bearing in his hand a succulent _ragôut_, which was one of our

courses--"who and what? A traveller, or a girl belonging to Toulouse?"

"Oh!" said the man, with the true southern shrug of his shoulders,

"that!--_elle_! She is a wandering singer, a girl called Damaris. On her

road farther south. Pray Heaven she steals nothing. She is as like to if

she has the chance. A purse or even a spoon, I'll wager. If I were the

master she should not be here. Yet, she amuses the company. Sings love

ballads and such things, and juggles with those balls. Ha! giglot," he

exclaimed, seeing the girl jump off the table she had been sitting on,

talking to a bagman, and come towards us, "away. The gentlemen of the

_mousquetaires_ require not your company."

"Ay, but they do though," the girl called Damaris said, as she drew

close to where we sat. "Soldiers like amusement, and I can amuse them.

Pretty gentlemen," she went on, "would you like a love song made in

Touraine, or to see a trick or two? Or I have a snake in a box that can

do quaint things. Shall I go fetch it--it will dance if I pipe----"

"To confusion with your snake!" exclaimed the waiting man, "we want no

snakes here. Snakes, indeed----!"

"Well, then, a love song. This pretty boy," and here she was forward

enough to fix her eyes most boldly on me, "looks as if he would like a

love song. How blue his eyes are!"

Alas! they are somewhat dim and old now, but then, because I was young

and foolish, and because my eyes _were_ blue, I felt flattered at this

wandering creature's remark. However, without waiting for an answer, she

went on.

"Come, we will have a trick first. Now," she said, pulling out three of

the balls from her bag, "you hold that ball, _mon enfant_--thus," and

she put one red one--the only red one--into my hand. "You have it?"

"Yes," I said, "I have it;" and, because it was as big as a good-sized

apple, I closed my two hands over it.

"You are sure?"

"Certain."

"Show it then." Whereon I opened my hands again, and, lo! it was a gilt

ball and not a red one that was in them.

"Show that trick to me," said a voice at my back, even as De Pontgibaud

and Camier burst out a-laughing, and so, too, did some of the people in

the great hall who were supping, while I felt like a fool. "Show that

trick to me." And, looking round, I saw that it was the Chevalier de

Marcieu who had spoken; the man to whom the Regent had sent me, and who

had ridden from Paris with us as a sort of civilian director, or guide;

the man from whom we were to take our orders when acting as guard to

Alberoni when he passed this way, presuming that we had the good

fortune to encounter his Eminence; he who was to be responsible for the

safety of the Cardinal.

Now, he knew well enough that we of the _mousquetaires gris_ did not

like him, that we regarded him as a spy--which, in truth, he was, more

or less--and that his company was not absolutely welcome to us.

Wherefore, all along the road from Paris he had kept himself very much

apart from us, not taking his meals at our table--where he was not

wanted!--and riding ever behind the troop, saying very little except

when necessary. But now he had evidently left the table at which he ate

alone and had come over to ours, drawn there, perhaps, by a desire to

witness the girl's performances.

"No," she said, "I shall not show it to you. I do not do the same trick

twice. But, if you choose, I will fetch my little snake. Perhaps that

would amuse _you_."

"I wish to see that trick with the red ball," said De Marcieu quietly,

taking no notice whatever of her emphasis on the word "you." "Show it to

me."

For answer, however, she dropped the balls into the bag, and, drawing up

a vacant chair which stood against our table--she was a free and easy

young woman, this!--said she was tired, and should do no more tricks

that night. Also, she asked for some of our Roussillon as a payment for

what she had done. Whereupon Camier poured her out a gobletful and

passed it over to her, which, with a pretty little bow and grimace, she

took, drinking our healths saucily a moment later.

Meanwhile I was eyeing this stroller and thinking that she was a vastly

well-favoured one in spite of her brown skin, which, both on face and

hands, was a strange colour, it not being altogether that wholesome,

healthy brown which the winds and sun bring to those who are always in

the open, but, instead, a sort of muddy colour, so that I thought,

perhaps, she did not use to wash overmuch--which, maybe, was like

enough. Also, I wondered at the shapeliness of her fingers and hands,

the former being delicate and tapering, and the nails particularly well

kept. Likewise, I observed something else that I thought strange. Her

robe--for such it was--consisted of a coarse, russet-coloured Nîmes

serge, such as the poor ever wear in France, having in it several tears

and jags that had been mended roughly, yet, all the same, it looked new

and fresh--too new, indeed, to have been thus torn and frayed. Then,

also, I noticed that at her neck, just above the collar of her dress,

there peeped out a piece of lace of the finest quality, lace as good as

that of my steinkirk or the ruffles of a dandy's frills. And all this

set me a-musing, I know not why.

Meanwhile Marcieu was persistent about that red ball, asking her again

and again to try the trick on him, and protesting in a kind of rude

good-humour that she did not dare to let him inspect the ball, since she

feared he would discover some cunning artifice in it which would show

how she made it change from red to gilt.

"Bah!" she replied, "I can do it with anything else. Here, I will show

you the trick with other balls." Whereon, as she spoke, she drew out two

of the gilt ones and said, "Now, hold out your hands and observe. See,

this one has a scratch on it; that one has none. Put the second in your

hand and I will transfer the other in its place."

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

"I will conjure no more," she said pettishly. Then she snatched up the

goblet of wine, drank it down at a gulp, and went off out of the room,

saying--

"Good-night, _mousquetaires_. Good-night, Blue Eyes," and, I protest,

blew me a kiss with the tips of her fingers. The sauciness of these

mountebanks is often beyond belief.

The chevalier took the vacant chair she had quitted, though no one

invited him to do so, his company not being desired by any of us, and

Pontgibaud, calling for a deck of cards, challenged Camier to a game of

piquet. As for me, I sat with my elbows on the table watching them play,

though at the same time my eye occasionally fell on the spy, and I

wondered what he was musing upon so deeply. But, presently, he called

the drawer over to him and gave an order for some drink to be brought

(since none of us had passed him over the flask, we aristocratic

_mousquetaires_ not deeming a _mouchard_ fit bottle-companion for us),

and when it came he turned his back to the table at which we sat, and

asked the man a question in a low voice; though not so low a one but

that I caught what he said, and the reply too.

"Where is that vagrant disposed of?" he asked. "With those other

vagabonds, I suppose," letting his eye fall on the members of the

fantoccini troupe, "or in one of the stables."

"Nay, nay," the server said, "she is not here, but at the 'Red Glove' in

the next street. She told me to-night that that was her headquarters

until she had visited every inn and tavern in Toulouse and earned some

money. Then she will go on to Narbonne."

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

Whereon the man said it was good enough for a wandering ballad-singer

anyhow, and went off swiftly to attend to another order at the end of

the room, while Marcieu sat there sipping his drink, but now and again

casting his eye also over some tablets which he had drawn out of his

pocket.

But at this time nine o'clock boomed forth from the tower of the

cathedral hard by, which we had noticed as we rode in, and Pontgibaud

gave the troopers their orders to betake themselves to their beds; also

one to me to go to the stables and see that all the horses were

carefully bestowed for the night, since, though the troop-sergeant had

made his report that such was the case, he required confirmation of it.

Wherefore I went to the end of the room, and, taking my long grey

_houppelande_, or horseman's cloak (which we _mousquetaires_, because we

always had the best of everything, wore trimmed with costly grey fur), I

donned it, and was about to go forth to the stables when I heard

Pontgibaud's voice raised somewhat angrily as he spoke to the chevalier.

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

"_Fichtre_ for such an arrest!" I heard him say, while the few strangers

who had not gone to their beds--as most had done by now--cast their eyes

in the direction where he and Marcieu were. "Not I! Body of my father!

what do you take my gentlemen of the _mousquetaires_ to be? Exempts!

police! Bah! Go to La Poste. Get one of their fellows to do it. We are

soldiers, not----"

"I have the Regent's orders," Le Marcieu replied quietly, "to arrest him

or any one else I see fit. And, Monsieur le Vicomte, it is to assist me

that your 'gentlemen of the _mousquetaires_' are here in Toulouse--have

ridden with me from Paris. I must press it upon you to do as I desire."

Now, I could not wait any longer, since I had my orders from Pontgibaud

to repair to the stables and see that the chargers were comfortable for

the night, and as, also, I saw a glance shoot out of his eye over the

other's head which seemed to bid me go on with my duty. Upon which I

went out to the yard, noticing that the snow was falling heavily, and

that it was like to be a hard winter night--went out accompanied by a

stableman carrying a lantern.

"Give it me," I said, taking the lamp from him, "I will go the round

myself. Also the key, so that I can lock the door when I have made

inspection."

"Nay, monsieur," he answered, "the door cannot be locked. The inn is

full; other travellers' horses are in the stable; they may be required

at daybreak."

"Very well," I replied, "in that case one of our men must be roused and

put as guard over the animals; they are too valuable to be left alone in

an open stable," and, as I spoke, I thought particularly of my beautiful

La Rose, for whom I had paid a hundred pistoles a year ago. Then I gave

the fellow a silver piece and bade him go get a drink to warm himself

with on this winter night, and entered the stable.

The whinny which La Rose gave as I went in showed me where all our

horses were bestowed, and I proceeded down to the end of the stable,

observing when I got there that they were all well housed for the night,

and their straw clean and fresh; while, as the glimmer of the lamp

proclaimed, they had been properly groomed and attended to. Everything

was very well. Wherefore, giving my own mare the piece of sugar I had

brought for her, I made for the door again, observing that Le Marcieu's

red roan, a wiry but serviceable beast, was in a stall nearer to the

entrance.

[Illustration: "Not so fast, mademoiselle, not so fast. What are you

doing here?"]

Then suddenly, as I raised the lantern to give a second glance at it, to

my astonishment I saw the singing-girl, Damaris, dart out swiftly from

near that stall and endeavour to push by me and escape through the door;

which, however, I easily prevented her from doing, since I seized her at

once by the arm and held her, while I exclaimed, "Not so fast,

mademoiselle, not so fast. What are you doing here?--you, who are at the

'Red Glove' and have no business whatever in these stables."

CHAPTER III

"WHEN THE STEED HAS FLOWN"

At first she struggled a little, then all of a sudden she took a

different tack, and exclaimed, "How dare you touch me, fellow. You--a

common _mousquetaire_--to lay your hands on me! You! you! Let

go--or----"

However, I had let go of her by now through astonishment at her

impertinence. A common _mousquetaire_, indeed!--a common

_mousquetaire_!--when, in all our regiment, there was scarce a trooper

riding who was not of gentle blood--to say nothing of the officers.

"I may be 'a common _mousquetaire_,'" I replied, as calmly as I could,

"yet, all the same, commit no rudeness to a wandering ballad-singer whom

I find in the stable where our horses are; and----"

"Why!" she exclaimed, with a look (I could see it by the rays of the

lantern) that was, I'll be sworn, as much a pretence as her words--"why!

'tis Blue Eyes. Forgive me; I thought it was one of your men--I--I--did

not know you in your great furred cloak. It becomes you vastly well,

Blue Eyes," and the hussy smiled up approvingly at me.

"Does it?" I said. "No doubt. Yet, nevertheless, I want an explanation

of what you are doing in these stables at night, in the dark, when you

are housed at the 'Red Glove';" and I spoke all the more firmly because

I felt certain that she had not taken me for one of the troopers at all.

"Imbecile!" she exclaimed petulantly, and for all the world as if she

was speaking to an inferior. "Imbecile! Idiot! Since you know I am at

the 'Red Glove,' don't you know too that they have no stabling for us

who put up there, and that the travellers' cattle are installed here?

Oh, Blue Eyes, you are only a simple boy!"

"No, I don't know it!" I exclaimed, a little dashed at this

intelligence; "but, pardon me, I would not be ill mannered--only--do

ladies of your calling travel on horseback? I thought you wandered on

foot from town to town giving your entertainments."

"I do not travel on horseback, but on muleback. There are such things as

four-footed mules as well as two-footed ones, Blue Eyes. I assure you

there are. And here is mine; look at it. Isn't it a sorry beast to be in

company with the noble steeds of the aristocratic _mousquetaires_?"

"Oh, it's 'aristocratic' now, is it?" I thought to myself, "not 'common'

_mousquetaires_," running my eye over the mule she pointed out, even as

I held the lantern on high. Only, as I did so, I saw it was not a sorry

beast at all; instead, a wiry, clean-limbed Pyrenean mule, whose

hind-legs looked as though they could spring forward mighty fast if

wanted; in truth, an animal that looked as if it could show its heels

to many of its nobler kin, namely horses. But, also, I observed that its

saddle was on, and that the halter was not fastened to the rack.

"Well, you see?" she said, looking at me with her mocking smile, and

showing all her pretty white teeth as she did so. "You see? Now, Blue

Eyes, let me go. I am tired and sleepy, and I want to go to bed."

This being sufficient explanation of her presence in the stables, there

was no further reason why I should detain her and I said she might go,

while, even as I spoke, I fastened up the halter for her. After which we

went out into the yard, where we bade each other a sort of good-night, I

doing so a little crossly since I was still sore at her banter, and she,

on her part, speaking in still her mocking, gibing manner.

"And where do you go to," she asked, "after this? Eh, Blue Eyes? I

should like to see you some day again, you know. I like you, Blue Eyes,"

and as she spoke I wondered what impish kind of thought was now in her

mind, for she was standing close to me, and seemed to be emphasising her

remarks about her liking for me by clutching tight my _houppelande_ in

her hand.

"That," I said, "is, if you will excuse me, our affair. Good-night; I

hope you will sleep well at the 'Red Glove.'" Then, because I did not

want to part in anger from the volatile creature, and because I was a

soldier to whom such licence is permissible, I said, "Adieu,

sweetheart."

"Sweetheart!" she exclaimed, turning round on me. "Sweetheart! You dare

to speak to me thus--you--you--you base--" But, just as suddenly as she

had flown out at me like a spitfire, she changed again, saying,

"_Peste_! I forget--I am only a poor wandering vagrant. I did not mean

that. I--I am sorry." And, as she vanished round the corner of the yard

into the street, I heard her laugh and say softly, though loud enough,

"Good-night, Blue Eyes; adieu--_sweetheart_;" and again she laughed as

she disappeared.

Now, all this had taken some little time, as you may well suppose, so

that the great clock of the Cathedral of St. Etienne was striking ten as

I re-entered the inn and went on to the large guests'-room, or _salle_.

It was empty at this time of all the sojourners in the house, except the

captain, Pontgibaud, who was sitting in front of the huge fire, into

which he stared meditatively while he drank some wine from a glass at

his elbow.

"All well with the horses?" he asked, as I went up to him. "I thought

you were never coming back." Then, without waiting for any explanation

from me as to my absence, he said, "We go towards the Pyrenees, by Foix,

to-morrow, thereby to intercept Alberoni if we can. That fellow, that

_mouchard_, Marcieu, says he is due to cross into France from Aragon.

Meanwhile--" but there he paused, saying no more. Instead, he gazed into

the embers of the fire; then suddenly, a moment or so after, spoke

again. "Adrian," he said, "it is fitting I should tell you what Marcieu

knows, or rather suspects, from information he has received from Dubois,

who himself has received it from Madrid. Camier has been informed; so

must you be."

"What is it now?" I asked, my anxiety aroused.

"This. Alberoni, as Marcieu says, has all the old Spanish aristocracy on

his side, simply because the King, Philippe, is a Frenchman. They are

helping him--especially the ladies. Now, it is thought one of them has

carried off the will of the late King Charles, and not Alberoni

himself."

"Who is she?"

"He, Marcieu, will not tell, though he knows her rank and title. But--"

and now Pontgibaud looked round the room, which was, as I have said,

quite empty but for us, then lowered his voice ere he replied--"but--he

is going to arrest that girl called Damaris to-morrow morning," and as

he spoke he delivered himself of a grave, solemn wink.

"Is he?" I said; "is he?" and then fell a-musing. For this opened my

eyes to much--opened them, too, in a moment. Now, I understood her

indignation at a _mousquetaire_ seizing hold of her, a high-born damsel,

probably of some old Castile or Aragon family, instead of a wandering

stroller as we had thought her to be--understood, too, why I had seen

that piece of rich lace peeping out at her throat; why her dress of

Nîmes serge, which was a new one, was artfully torn and frayed. Also I

understood, or thought I did, the strange colour of her face and hands,

which were, I now made no manner of doubt, dyed or stained to appear

dirty and weatherbeaten, and why the saddle was on her mule's back and

the halter loose from the rack;--understood, I felt sure, all about it.

Then, just as I was going to tell Pontgibaud this, we both started to

our feet. For, outside, where the stables were, we heard a horse's hoofs

strike smartly on the cobble-stones of the yard; we heard the animal

break into a trot the moment it was in the street outside.

"Some one has stolen a horse from those stables," cried Pontgibaud,

springing towards the door and rushing down the passage; "pray Heaven

'tis not one of our chargers."

To which I answered calmly, "I think not. There are other animals there

than ours, horses and _mules_ belonging to people staying at other inns.

It is a traveller setting forth before the city gates are closed at

midnight."

And, even as I spoke, I could not help laughing in my captain's face, as

well as at the look upon it.

CHAPTER IV

ANA, PRINCESA DE CARBAJAL

We were riding through one of the innumerable valleys which are formed

by the spurs of the Pyrenees running almost from where the Pic du Midi

rises up to the city of Toulouse; a valley which was bordered on either

side by shelving hills that were covered with woods nearly up to their

summits. And now we were looking forward eagerly to meeting his

Eminence, the Cardinal Alberoni, of whose arrival in this neighbourhood

we had received certain intelligence from more than one of the

innumerable spies whom both the Regent and Cardinal Dubois maintained

ever in this region--a region dividing Spain from France.

As for Marcieu, who, as usual, rode behind the troop, he had been in

such a towering rage ever since the morning of our departure from

Toulouse, and had used such violent language, that I for one had been

obliged to tell him to keep a civil tongue in his head, while

Pontgibaud, who was an aristocrat to the tips of his fingers as well as

captain of a troop of _mousquetaires_, told him he must be more

respectful in his language or altogether silent. For, as naturally you

have understood, it was the girl who was pleased to call herself

Damaris, and to assume the disguise of a wandering juggler and singer,

who had ridden off that night on her mule, and was, no doubt, far enough

away from us in the morning.

And she had got the late King of Spain's will in her pocket! of that

Marcieu swore there could be no doubt--the will which, in truth, was the

principal thing that brought the nations to agreeing that the Duke of

Anjou should sit as King Philippe V. on the throne of Spain--the will

which, if it once fell into the hands of Austria, would instantly

_disappear_ for ever and set all Europe alight with the flames of war

again. She had got it, and when Alberoni was searched it would not be

found. Perhaps, after all, it was not strange that Marcieu's expressions

were writ in a good round hand. He had missed the chance of his life!

"I know her," he stormed in the morning, when he found how abortive his

attempts to arrest her had proved, "I know her. Dubois sent me

intelligence of everything. She is the Princesa Ana de Carbajal, of an

ancient and illustrious Catalonian house, a house faithful to all the

interests of Austria before the days of Charles V. and of Philip. May

the pest seize her! She came ahead of Alberoni disguised thus, and never

thought she would encounter us. And I do believe she has the will in

that accursed red ball. Such things have been used as hiding-places

before. Even Alberoni once used his crook as a receptacle wherein to

hide a slip of paper. And the late King's last will in favour of

Philippe was itself but a slip of paper, signed when he was close to

death." Then, again, he used strong language.

However, she was gone, and, on the frail chance of his being misinformed

after all, and because he also had orders to meet Alberoni in any

circumstances, and to escort him to the Mediterranean coast without

allowing him to hold converse with any one, we set off to find him. For

Dubois' spies had met us and said that Alberoni was on his way, that he

was close at hand.

So we rode along, nearing rapidly the pass into Spain by which he was

coming, and expecting every moment to meet the Cardinal's coach attended

by all his servants and following. But suddenly, while we marched, there

happened something which put all thoughts of the Cardinal and his

devoted friend, the Princess Ana, out of our heads--something

terrible--awful--to behold.

A house, an inn, on fire, blazing fiercely, as we could see, even as we

all struck spurs into our horses and galloped swiftly towards it--a

house from the upper windows of which we could observe the faces of

people looking. The _upper_ windows, because all the lower part was in

flames, and because they who were inside had all retreated up and up and

up. Only, what could that avail them! Soon the house, the top

floor--there were two above the ground--must fall in and--then!

Yes--then!

We reached that burning _auberge_--'twas terrible, ghastly, to see the

flames bursting forth from it in the broad daylight and looking white in

the glare of the warm southern sun, although 'twas winter--reached it,

wondering what we could do to save those who were perishing; to save the

screaming mother with her babe clasped to her breast, the white-faced

man who called on God through the open window he was at to spare him and

his, or, if not him, then his wife and child.

What could we do--what? Bid them leap down to us, fling themselves upon

us--yes, at least we might do that. One thing at least we could

undoubtedly do--bid them throw down the babe into our arms. And this was

done. The troopers sat close upon their horses, their arms extended; a

moment later the little thing was safe in the great strong arms of the

men, and being caressed and folded to the breast of our great brawny

sergeant. Then, even as I witnessed this, even, too, as I (dismounted

now) hurried round with some _mousquetaires_ to discover if, in God's

mercy, there was any ladder behind in the outhouse or garden whereby the

upper part might be reached, I myself almost screamed with horror; for,

at that moment, on to the roof there had sprung a woman shrieking; a

woman down whose back fell coils of long black hair; a woman, handsome,

beautiful, even in her agony and fear; a woman who was the girl called

Damaris.

"Damaris!" I called out, "Damaris!" for by that name I had come to

think of her, had known her for a short hour or so, "Damaris! be calm,

do nothing rash. We will save you; the walls will not fall in yet. Be

cool." But in answer to my words she could do nothing but wring her

hands and shriek.

"I cannot die like this--not like this. Oh, Blue Eyes, save me! Save me!

Save me! You called me your sweetheart. Save me!"

Then, at that moment, I heard a calm, icy voice beside me say--it was

the voice of Marcieu--"Does your highness intend to restore the late

King of Spain's will? Answer that, or I swear, since I command here,

that you shall not be saved."

In a moment I had sprung at him, would have pulled him off his horse,

have struck him in the mouth, have killed him for his brutality, but

that Camier and two of the troopers held me back, and, even as they did

so, I heard the girl's voice ring out, "Yes! yes! yes! 'tis here;"

while, as she spoke, she put her hand in the bag by her side, drew out

the red ball, and flung it down from the roof to where we all were.

But by now, Heaven in its mercy be praised! some of the others had found

a ladder and brought it round, and were placing it against the walls.

Only, it was too short! God help her! it but reached to the sill of the

top-floor window.

And now I was distraught, was mad with grief and horror, when again that

cold-blooded creature, Marcieu, spoke, saying, "What matter? can she not

descend from the roof to the room that window is in?" and at the same

moment Pontgibaud called out to her to do that very thing, which she, at

once understanding, prepared to accomplish.

Meanwhile, some of the men, who were all now dismounted, had sprung to

the ladder, eager to save, first the girl, I think, then next the woman

of the house, and then the man. But I ordered them back. I alone would

save her, I said, I alone. Princess or stroller, noble or crafty

adherent of a wronged monarchy, whichever she might be, I had taken a

liking to this girl; she had called on me to save her, and I would do

it. Wherefore, up the ladder I went as quickly as the weight of my great

riding boots and trappings would permit me, while all the time the

flames were shooting out from the lower windows--up, until I stood at

the top one and received her in my arms, telling the woman and the man

they should be saved immediately, which they were, the troopers fetching

down the woman, and the man following directly after by himself; yet

none too soon either, for, even as he came down, the flames had set the

lower part of the ladder afire, so that it fell down and he got singed

as he came to earth. But, nevertheless, all were now saved; and Damaris

stood trembling by my side, and pouring out her thanks to, and blessings

upon, me.

"I--I--did not mean what I said," stammered Marcieu. "I meant you should

be saved. But I meant also to have that will, and I have got it." While,

as his eye roved around us, he saw the disgust written upon all our

faces, on the faces alike of officers and men.

"You have got it," she answered contemptuously. "You have! Much good may

it do you, animal!" and again I saw the beautiful white teeth gleam

between her lips.

"But why here, Dama-Señorita?" I whispered; "why here? You came the

wrong way if you wished to escape with the precious document."

She gave me somewhat of a nervous, tremulous smile, and was about to

answer me, and give me some explanation, when, lo! there came an

interruption to all our talk. The long-expected Cardinal was

approaching. Alberoni had crossed the Pyrenees.

But in what a way to come! We could scarcely believe our eyes. There

was no coach, nor heavily-laden mules to bear him and his followers and

belongings. He was on foot; so, too, were his attendants. He, a

cardinal; the arbiter of Spain, while ostensibly only the political

agent of the Duke of Parma; a prince of the Church; a man who had

intrigued for, and almost secured, one of the greatest prizes of that

Church, the primacy of the land from which he had now been expelled--on

foot! so that, if he had not had on his head his cardinal's hat--which

he doubtless wore in his arrogance--none would have deemed him the great

man he was, even in his downfall. All doffed their own hats as he came

near us, Marcieu doing so as respectfully as any, while, as we removed

ours, I saw him steal a glance at her whom we had known as Damaris. Such

a glance, such a sly, cunning one! Then, as she sprang forward to take

his hand, meaning, I think, to kiss it, he prevented her from doing so

by, instead, raising that hand above her head and muttering, as I

supposed, a blessing. But now, even as he looked somewhat wonderingly at

the still burning house, he turned to Marcieu and said--

[Illustration: The Rescue.]

"You are the man, I imagine, and those your troopers, whom Philippe the

Regent has sent to intercept me. Ha! you are surprised that I know

this," he went on, seeing the start that Marcieu gave when he heard

those words. "Are you not? If you should ever know Alberoni better, you

will learn that he is a match for most court spies in Europe."

Now the chevalier did seem so utterly taken aback at this (which caused

Pontgibaud to give me a quaint look of satisfaction out of the tail of

his eye--for every one of us hated that man mortally) that he could do

nothing but bow, uttering no sound. Whereon the Cardinal proceeded:

"Well! What do you expect to do with me? Your comrades of Spain--the

knaves and brigands whom the King sent after me from Madrid--have

pillaged me of all. Some day I will pay his Majesty for the outrage--let

him beware lest I place Austria back upon his throne. 'Twas a beggarly

trick!--to take my carriages and mules, my jewels and wealth--even the

will of the late King, which was most lawfully and rightfully in my

possession."

"What!" broke from several of our lips, "what!" while from Marcieu's

white and trembling ones came the words, "The late King's will! It is

impossible. This girl--this lady--has handed it to me!"

For a moment the Cardinal's sly glance rested on the Princess, then on

Marcieu, and then--then--he actually laughed, not loud, but long.

"Monsieur," he said at last, "you are a poor spy--easily to be tricked.

You will never make a living at the calling. The will that lady gave you

was a duplicate, a copy. It was meant that you should have _that_--that

it should fall into your stupid hands. And, had I not been robbed on the

other side of the mountains, you would not have seen me here."

"It is so," the Princess said, striding up to where the chevalier stood;

"it is so. You spy! you spy! you _mouchard_! if that worthless piece of

paper in the red ball had been the real will, I would have perished in

the burning house before letting it fall into your hands." Then, sinking

her voice still lower, though not so low but that some of us could hear

what she said, she went on: "Have a care for your future. The followers

of Austria have still some power left, even at the Court of France. Your

threat to let me burn on the roof was _not_ unmeant. It will be

remembered."

And now there is no more to tell, except that the Princess knew that

Marcieu meant to take the real will from the Cardinal if he met him, and

so it had been arranged that, through her, the paper which he would

suppose was that real will was to fall into his hands, and Alberoni

would thus have been enabled to retain the original and escape with it

out of France. She had preceded us to the foot of the mountains from

Toulouse, meaning, when we came up, to let Marcieu obtain the red ball

and thus be hoodwinked; and the accident of the fire at the inn only

anticipated what she intended doing. The unexpected following of, and

attack upon, the Cardinal, ere he quitted Spain and descended the

Pyrenees into France, had, however, spoilt all their plans.

[Illustration: "A friendship that eventually ripened--"]

* * * * *

Here I should attempt that which most writers of narratives are in the

habit of performing, namely, conclude by telling you what was the end of

Ana de Carbajal's adventure, of how she won and broke hearts and

eventually made a brilliant match. That is what Monsieur Marivaux or the

fair Scuderi would have done, as well as some of the writers in my own

native land. But I refrain, because this strange meeting between me and

the beautiful and adventurous Spanish lady was but the commencement of a

long friendship that eventually ripened--However, no matter. Some day,

when my hand is not weary and the spirit is upon me, I intend to write

down more of the history of the high-bred young aristocrat who first

appeared before me as a wandering stroller, and passed for "a girl

called Damaris."

A NEW ENGLAND RAID

BY E. F. POLLARD

_Author of "Roger the Ranger," &c._

The first glow of morning was creeping over the land as an Indian

emerged from the forest. He ran swiftly, with that easy swing of the

body and lightness of foot for which his race is remarkable. Leaping a

wooden fence, he paused and stood, for the space of a second, looking up

at a large square house, plain and unornamented, such as the early

settlers in New England were wont to build for themselves.

The inhabitants were still buried in sleep, and the Indian's approach

had been so noiseless that it had failed even to rouse the watch-dog.

Taking a handful of gravel he threw it with unerring aim at a window on

the second floor. An instant afterwards the lattice was opened and a

young man's head thrust out, a voice asking, "What's up, Will?"

The Indian made a peculiar sign, which might easily be interpreted into

"Come down."

"All right," said Josiah Blackstone, and disappeared.

Then Josh, as he was familiarly called, came down the broad staircase,

removed noiselessly the bars and bolts which secured the front door, and

slipped out into the porch, against the great oak post of which the

Indian was leaning. A huge mastiff came bounding round from the back of

the house with an ominous growl, but he evidently recognised the Indian,

for he ran up to him wagging his tail and fawning upon him with

unmistakable signs of pleasure.

"What has brought you, Will? I thought you were off fishing in the Great

Lakes," said Josiah. Then eyeing him carefully, he added, "You look as

if you had travelled far and fast."

"So Will has," answered the Indian in English. "Will Narburton ran a day

and a night to bring news, bad news."

"Sorry to hear it," said Josh. "Is Philip up to mischief?"

The Indian made a sign of assent.

"Tobias, the Sachem of Nipmuck's son, and two others, have slain John

Susaman, the missionary," he said.

"Killed gentle John!" exclaimed Josh--"are you sure, Will?"

"My own eyes saw it," said the Indian. "They waylaid John, knocked him

on the head, and thrust him dead into the pond near Middleborough. I was

on the other side and watched the Sachem's son, Tobias, and the two

others, do the deed. Knowing they do not love the men of my tribe, I was

afraid, and hid myself in the long rushes. They struck John from behind,

so that he did not see. He never moved again. Then they put him into the

hole. I waited till the wicked ones were on their way back to tell the

Sachem the evil work was finished, then I ran all day and all night to

warn you. King Philip is angry; he has sworn he will drive the white man

out of the hunting grounds."

"I know it," answered Josh. "I fear this means war."

"As the arrow flies through the air swiftly and slays, so the Indian

will drop down into your midst, and the scalps of the white men will be

his reward," said Will Narburton.

"Hush!" said Josh, "I hear my mother's step on the stairs; she must not

be alarmed."

The Indian raised his head and whispered: "No tell missis, she woman,

she frightened; tell master."

[Illustration: "I was afraid, and hid myself in the long rushes."]

He had hardly given utterance to this sentiment when a tall comely

woman, in the close cap, plain black gown, and white bibbed apron of the

New England matron, came out into the porch, and seeing Will Narburton,

smiled a welcome.

"I wondered who you might be entertaining at this early hour, Josh," she

said, laying her hand on her son's arm. "Has Will come to tempt you to

go fishing or hunting with him?"

"No, mother; but he has brought some important news, which I must

communicate to my father. Will you see that Narburton has food and

drink, for he has travelled a long distance to do us service?"

"Gladly," answered Mrs. Blackstone. "Go ye round to the kitchen, Will;

if Mary be not there, I will open to you and see to your needs myself.

Your father will be down directly, Josh," she added, addressing her son,

and then she hastened away intent upon her household duties.

The Blackstones had been amongst the first settlers on the borders of

Connecticut. By the banks of the river Seek-ouk they had built a house

and named it "Study Hill"; they had also planted orchards, and the

fruitful land rewarded their labour with rich harvests. It was but a few

weeks since the grandsire had been laid to rest among his apple-trees,

and his son, Nathan Blackstone, now reigned in his stead. Josh was the

only surviving son of this third generation; he dwelt at home, and was

his father's right hand. Nathan was an elder of the Church and a civil

magistrate, revered by the settlers, and scarcely less so by the

Indians, to whom he had always been well inclined; declaring the safety

of the English lay in a just recognition of the natural rights of the

natives, and attaching much blame to those who would have had the red

man rooted out as being of the accursed race of Ham. Nevertheless he

deemed it necessary they should be watched, feeling by no means assured

that they were other than the children of the devil, more especially as

the effects of Christianity and civilisation on the Indian were far from

conducive to virtue.

The Puritan fathers were remarkably unsuccessful in their efforts to

propagate Christianity, may-be because of the harshness of their

doctrines; but it is a fact that after fifty years' labour amongst the

thousands of natives in New England, less than 1500 Indians were

converted. These were known as the "Praying Indians," and their position

was far from enviable, they being despised by their own people, and not

wholly trusted by the colonists themselves. Will Narburton and the

murdered John Susaman belonged to this class--indeed the latter was

employed as a missionary, and was much esteemed by the Brethren; his

death, therefore, was an event not likely to be passed over.

Hearing his father's step coming down the stairs, Josh turned and

greeted him, and the two went out together, pacing side by side along

the garden-walk in front of the house, as was their wont when they had

any matter under discussion. They resembled each other greatly, being of

the same height, broad-shouldered, and powerful of limb; their features

were strongly marked; their complexions ruddy, deep-set grey eyes and

dark-brown hair; Nathan's, however, was cropped short, after the fashion

of the Puritan fathers, but Josh wore his somewhat longer; also Nathan

was clean shaven, but his son had both beard and moustache.

They were fine, well-built men, with honest, open countenances,

God-fearing and true-hearted, ready to do their duty alike to God and

man.

As Nathan listened to the news Will Narburton had brought, his face grew

serious.

"I foresee trouble," he said. "John Susaman has warned the men of Boston

for some time past that the Sachem of the Wampanoags was disaffected,

and they paid no heed to his words; I fear it is now too late. We have

been at peace with the Indians for many years; but if war were to break

out now, it would be far worse than in the early days, because the red

man has possessed himself of firearms in addition to his own weapons. It

is a serious matter."

"It were well that the news should be carried to Boston without delay,"

said Josh. "If you be willing, father, I will ride in at once and take

Will with me, he being an eye-witness to the deed."

"Certainly, I think it desirable," said Nathan; "but you must go well

armed, for there is no saying what the Indians may be up to, now they

are roused. They are as likely as not to waylay you, if they suspect you

to be carrying news of their misdoing to Boston."