"I find that I have to give you thanks for yet another service, Cyril," Captain Dave said heartily, when they met the next morning. "Nellie tells me a young Court gallant had the insolence to try to address her yesterday in Cheapside, on her way back from St. Paul's, that you prevented his doing so, and that there was quite a scene in the street. If I knew who he was I would break his sconce for him, were he Rochester himself. A pretty pass things have come to, when a citizen's daughter cannot walk home from St. Paul's without one of these impudent vagabonds of the Court venturing to address her! Know you who he was?"
"No; I have never seen the fellow before, Captain Dave. I do know many of the courtiers by sight, having, when we first came over, often gone down to Whitehall with my father when he was seeking to obtain an audience with the King; but this man's face is altogether strange to me."
"Well, well! I will take care that Nellie shall not go abroad again except under her mother's escort or mine. I know, Cyril, that she would be as safe under your charge as in ours, but it is better that she should have the presence of an older person. It is not that I doubt your courage or your address, lad, but a ruffling gallant of this sort would know naught of you, save that you are young, and besides, did you interfere, there might be a scene that would do serious harm to Nellie's reputation."
"I agree with you thoroughly, Captain Dave," Cyril said warmly. "It will be far better that you or Mrs. Dowsett should be by her side as long as there is any fear of further annoyance from this fellow. I should ask nothing better than to try a bout with him myself, for I have been right well taught how to use my sword; but, as you say, a brawl in the street is of all things to be avoided."
Three or four weeks passed quietly. Nellie seldom went abroad; when she did so her mother always accompanied her if it were in the daytime, and her father whenever she went to the house of any friend after dusk.
Cyril one day caught sight of the gallant in Tower Street, and although he was on his way to one of his customers, he at once determined to break his appointment and to find out who the fellow was. The man sauntered about looking into the shops for full half an hour, but it was apparent to Cyril that he paid little attention to their contents, and was really waiting for someone. When the clock struck three he started, stamped his foot angrily on the ground, and, walking away rapidly to the stairs of London Bridge, took a seat in a boat, and was rowed up the river.
Cyril waited until he had gone a short distance, and then hailed a wherry rowing two oars.
"You see that boat over there?" he said. "I don't wish to overtake it at present. Keep a hundred yards or so behind it, but row inshore so that it shall not seem that you are following them."
The men obeyed his instructions until they had passed the Temple; then, as the other boat still kept in the middle of the stream, Cyril had no doubt that it would continue its course to Westminster.
"Now stretch to your oars," he said to the watermen. "I want to get to Westminster before the other boat, and to be well away from the stairs before it comes up."
The rest of the journey was performed at much greater speed, and Cyril alighted at Westminster while the other boat was some three or four hundred yards behind. Paying the watermen, he went up the stairs, walked away fifty or sixty yards, and waited until he saw the man he was following appear. The latter walked quietly up towards Whitehall and entered a tavern frequented by young bloods of the Court. Cyril pressed his hat down over his eyes. His dress was not the same as that in which he had escorted Nellie to the cathedral, and he had but small fear of being recognised.
When he entered he sat down at a vacant table, and, having ordered a stoup of wine, looked round. The man had joined a knot of young fellows like himself, seated at a table. They were dissipated-looking blades, and were talking loudly and boisterously.
"Well, Harvey, how goes it? Is the lovely maiden we saw when we were with you at St. Paul's ready to drop into your arms?"
"Things are going on all right," Harvey said, with an air of consciousness; "but she is watched by two griffins, her father and mother. 'Tis fortunate they do not know me by sight, and I have thus chances of slipping a note in her hand when I pass her. I think it will not be long before you will have to congratulate me."
"She is an heiress and only daughter, is she not, honest John?" another asked.
"She is an only child, and her father bears the reputation of doing a good business; but as to what I shall finally do, I shall not yet determine. As to that, I shall be guided by circumstances."
"Of course, of course," the one who had first spoken said.
Cyril had gained the information he required. The man's name was John Harvey, and Nellie was keeping up a clandestine correspondence with him. Cyril felt that were he to listen longer he could not restrain his indignation, and, without touching the wine he had paid for, he hastily left the tavern.
As he walked towards the city, he was unable to decide what he had better do. Were he to inform Captain Dave of what he had heard there would be a terrible scene, and there was no saying what might happen. Still, Nellie must be saved from falling into the hands of this fellow, and if he abstained from telling her father he must himself take steps to prevent the possibility of such a thing taking place. The more he thought of it the more he felt of the heavy responsibility it would be. Anxious as he was to save Nellie from the anger of her father, it was of far greater consequence to save her from the consequences of her own folly. At last he resolved to take John Wilkes into his counsels. John was devoted to his master, and even if his advice were not of much value, his aid in keeping watch would be of immense service. Accordingly, that evening, when John went out for his usual pipe after supper, Cyril, who had to go to a trader in Holborn, followed him out quickly and overtook him a few yards from the door.
"I want to have a talk with you, John."
"Ay, ay, sir. Where shall it be? Nothing wrong, I hope? That new apprentice looks to me an honest sort of chap, and the man we have got in the yard now is an old mate of mine. He was a ship's boy on board the Dolphin twenty-five years back, and he sailed under the Captain till he left the sea. I would trust that chap just as I would myself."
"It is nothing of that sort, John. It is another sort of business altogether, and yet it is quite as serious as the last. I have got half an hour before I have to start to do those books at Master Hopkins'. Where can we have a talk in a quiet place where there is no chance of our being overheard?"
"There is a little room behind the bar at the place I go to, and I have no doubt the landlord will let us have it, seeing as I am a regular customer."
"At any rate we can see, John. It is too cold for walking about talking here; and, besides, I think one can look at a matter in all lights much better sitting down than one can walking about."
"That is according to what you are accustomed to," John said, shaking his head. "It seems to me that I can look further into the innards of a question when I am walking up and down the deck on night watch with just enough wind aloft to take her along cheerful, and not too much of it, than I can at any other time; but then, you see, that is just what one is accustomed to. This is the place."
He entered a quiet tavern, and, nodding to five or six weather-beaten-looking men, who were sitting smoking long pipes, each with a glass of grog before him, went up to the landlord, who formed one of the party. He had been formerly the master of a trader, and had come into the possession of the tavern by marriage with its mistress, who was still the acting head of the establishment.
"We have got a piece of business we want to overhaul, Peter. I suppose we can have that cabin in yonder for a bit?"
"Ay, ay. There is a good fire burning. You will find pipes on the table. You will want a couple of glasses of grog, of course?"
John nodded, and then led the way into the little snuggery at the end of the room. It had a glass door, so that, if desired, a view could be obtained of the general room, but there was a curtain to draw across this. There was a large oak settle on either side of the fire, and there was a table, with pipes and a jar of tobacco standing between them.
"This is a tidy little crib," John said, as he seated himself and began to fill a pipe. "There is no fear of being disturbed here. There has been many a voyage talked over and arranged in this 'ere room. They say that Blake himself, when the Fleet was in the river, would drop in here sometimes, with one of his captains, for a quiet talk."
A minute later a boy entered and placed two steaming glasses of grog on the table. The door closed after him, and John said,—
"Now you can get under way, Master Cyril. You have got a fair course now, and nothing to bring you up."
"It is a serious matter, John. And before I begin, I must tell you that I rely on your keeping absolute silence as to what I am going to tell you."
"That in course," John said, as he lifted his glass to his lips. "You showed yourself a first-rate pilot in that last job, and I am content to sail under you this time without asking any questions as to the ship's course, and to steer according to orders."
Cyril told the story, interrupted frequently by angry ejaculations on the part of the old bo'swain.
"Dash my wig!" he exclaimed, when Cyril came to an end. "But this is a bad business altogether, Master Cyril. One can engage a pirate and beat him off if the crew is staunch, but when there is treason on board ship, it makes it an awkward job for those in command."
"The question is this, John: ought we to tell the Captain, or shall we try to take the affair into our own hands, and so to manage it that he shall never know anything about it?"
The sailor was silent for a minute or two, puffing his pipe meditatively.
"I see it is an awkward business to decide," he said. "On one side, it would pretty nigh kill Captain Dave to know that Mistress Nellie has been steering wild and has got out of hand. She is just the apple of his eye. Then, on the other hand, if we undertook the job without telling him, and one fine morning we was to find out she was gone, we should be in a mighty bad fix, for the Captain would turn round and say, 'Why didn't you tell me? If you had done so, I would have locked her up under hatches, and there she would be, safe now.'"
"That is just what I see, and it is for that reason I come to you. I could not be always on the watch, but I think that you and I together would keep so sharp a look-out that we might feel pretty sure that she could not get away without our knowledge."
"We could watch sharply enough at night, Master Cyril. There would be no fear of her getting away then without our knowing it. But how would it be during the day? There am I in the shop or store from seven in the morning until we lock up before supper-time. You are out most of your time, and when you are not away, you are in the office at the books, and she is free to go in and out of the front door without either of us being any the wiser."
"I don't think he would venture to carry her off by daylight," Cyril said. "She never goes out alone now, and could scarcely steal away unnoticed. Besides, she would know that she would be missed directly, and a hue and cry set up. I should think she would certainly choose the evening, when we are all supposed to be in bed. He would have a chair waiting somewhere near; and there are so often chairs going about late, after city entertainments, that they would get off unnoticed. I should say the most dangerous time is between nine o'clock and midnight. She generally goes off to bed at nine or soon after, and she might very well put on her hood and cloak and steal downstairs at once, knowing that she would not be missed till morning. Another dangerous time would be when she goes out to a neighbour's. The Captain always takes her, and goes to fetch her at nine o'clock, but she might make some excuse to leave quite early, and go off in that way."
"That would be awkward, Mr. Cyril, for neither you nor I could be away at supper-time without questions being asked. It seems to me that I had better take Matthew into the secret. As he don't live in the house he could very well watch wherever she is, till I slip round after supper to relieve him, and he could watch outside here in the evening till either you or I could steal downstairs and take his place. You can count on him keeping his mouth shut just as you can on me. The only thing is, how is he to stop her if he finds her coming out from a neighbour's before the Captain has come for her?"
"If he saw her coming straight home he could follow her to the door without being noticed, John, but if he found her going some other way he must follow her till he sees someone speak to her, and must then go straight up and say, 'Mistress Dowsett, I am ready to escort you home.' If she orders him off, or the man she meets threatens him, as is like enough, he must say, 'Unless you come I shall shout for aid, and call upon passers-by to assist me'; and, rather than risk the exposure, she would most likely return with him. Of course, he would carry with him a good heavy cudgel, and choose a thoroughfare where there are people about to speak to her, and not an unfrequented passage, for you may be sure the fellow would have no hesitation in running him through if he could do so without being observed."
"Matthew is a stout fellow," John Wilkes said, "and was as smart a sailor as any on board till he had his foot smashed by being jammed by a spare spar that got adrift in a gale, so that the doctors had to cut off the leg under the knee, and leave him to stump about on a timber toe for the rest of his life. I tell you what, Master Cyril: we might make the thing safer still if I spin the Captain a yarn as how Matthew has strained his back and ain't fit to work for a bit; then I can take on another hand to work in the yard, and we can put him on watch all day. He might come on duty at nine o'clock in the morning, and stop until I relieve him as soon as supper is over. Of course, he would not keep opposite the house, but might post himself a bit up or down the street, so that he could manage to keep an eye on the door."
"That would be excellent," Cyril said. "Of course, at the supper-hour he could go off duty, as she could not possibly leave the house between that time and nine o'clock. You always come in about that hour, and I hear you go up to bed. When you get there, you should at once take off your boots, slip downstairs again with them, and go quietly out. I often sit talking with Captain Dave till half-past nine or ten, but directly I can get away I will come down and join you. I think in that way we need feel no uneasiness as to harm coming from our not telling Captain Dave, for it would be impossible for her to get off unnoticed. Now that is all arranged I must be going, for I shall be late at my appointment unless I hurry."
"Shall I go round and begin my watch at once, Master Cyril?".
"No, there is no occasion for that. We know that he missed her to-day, and therefore can have made no appointment; and I am convinced by what he said to the fellows he met, that matters are not settled yet. However, we will begin to-morrow. You can take an opportunity during the day to tell Matthew about it, and he can pretend to strain his back in the afternoon, and you can send him away. He can come round again next morning early, and when the Captain comes down you can tell him that you find that Matthew will not be able to work for the present, and ask him to let you take another man on until he can come back again."
Cyril watched Nellie closely at meal-times and in the evening for the next few days. He thought that he should be certain to detect some slight change in her manner, however well she might play her part, directly she decided on going off with this man. She would not dream that she was suspected in any way, and would therefore be the less cautious. Matthew kept watch during the day, and followed if she went out with her father to a neighbour's, remaining on guard outside the house until John Wilkes relieved him as soon as he had finished his supper. If she remained at home in the evening John went out silently, after his return at his usual hour, and was joined by Cyril as soon as Captain Dave said good-night and went in to his bedroom. At midnight they re-entered the house and stole up to their rooms, leaving their doors open and listening attentively for another hour before they tried to get to sleep.
On the sixth morning Cyril noticed that Nellie was silent and abstracted at breakfast-time. She went out marketing with her mother afterwards, and at dinner her mood had changed. She talked and laughed more than usual. There was a flush of excitement on her cheeks, and he drew the conclusion that in the morning she had not come to an absolute decision, but had probably given an answer to the man during the time she was out with her mother, and that she felt the die was now cast.
"Pass the word to Matthew to keep an extra sharp watch this afternoon and to-morrow, John. I think the time is close at hand," he said, as they went downstairs together after dinner.
"Do you think so? Well, the sooner the better. It is trying work, this here spying, and I don't care how soon it is over. I only hope it will end by our running down this pirate and engaging him."
"I hope so too, John. I feel it very hard to be sitting at table with her and Captain Dave and her mother, and to know that she is deceiving them."
"I can't say a word for her," the old sailor said, shaking his head. "She has as good parents as a girl could want to have. They would give their lives for her, either of them, cheerful, and there she is thinking of running away from them with a scamp she knows nothing of and has probably never spoken with for an hour. I knew her head was a bit turned with young fellows dangling after her, and by being noticed by some of the Court gallants at the last City ball, and by being made the toast by many a young fellow in City taverns—'Pretty Mistress Nellie Dowsett'; but I did not think her head was so turned that she would act as she is doing. Well, well, we must hope that this will be a lesson, Master Cyril, that she will remember all her life."
"I hope so, John, and I trust that we shall be able to manage it all so that the matter will never come to her parents' ears."
"I hope so, and I don't see why it should. The fellow may bluster, but he will say nothing about it because he would get into trouble for trying to carry off a citizen's daughter."
"And besides that, John,—which would be quite as serious in the eyes of a fellow of this sort,—he would have the laugh against him among all his companions for having been outwitted in the City. So I think when he finds the game is up he will be glad enough to make off without causing trouble."
"Don't you think we might give him a sound thrashing? It would do him a world of good."
"I don't think it would do a man of that sort much good, John, and he would be sure to shout, and then there would be trouble, and the watch might come up, and we should all get hauled off together. In the morning the whole story would be known, and Mistress Nellie's name in the mouth of every apprentice in the City. No, no; if he is disposed to go off quietly, by all means let him go."
"I have no doubt that you are right, Master Cyril, but it goes mightily against the grain to think that a fellow like that is to get off with a whole skin. However, if one should fall foul of him some other time, one might take it out of him."
Captain Dave found Cyril but a bad listener to his stories that evening, and, soon after nine, said he should turn in.
"I don't know what ails you to-night, Cyril," he said. "Your wits are wool-gathering, somewhere. I don't believe that you heard half that last story I was telling you."
"I heard it all, sir; but I do feel a little out of sorts this evening."
"You do too much writing, lad. My head would be like to go to pieces if I were to sit half the hours that you do at a desk."
When Captain Dave went into his room, Cyril walked upstairs and closed his bedroom door with a bang, himself remaining outside. Then he took off his boots, and, holding them in his hand, went noiselessly downstairs to the front door. The lock had been carefully oiled, and, after putting on his boots again, he went out.
"You are right, Master Cyril, sure enough," John Wilkes said when he joined him, fifty yards away from the house. "It is to-night she is going to try to make off. I thought I had best keep Matthew at hand, so I bid him stop till I came out, then sent him round to have a pint of ale at the tavern, and when he came back told him he had best cruise about, and look for signs of pirates. He came back ten minutes ago, and told me that a sedan chair had just been brought to the other end of the lane. It was set down some thirty yards from Fenchurch Street. There were the two chairmen and three fellows wrapped up in cloaks."
"That certainly looks like action, John. Well, I should say that Matthew had better take up his station at the other end of the lane, there to remain quiet until he hears an uproar at the chair; then he can run up to our help if we need it. We will post ourselves near the door. No doubt Harvey, and perhaps one of his friends, will come and wait for her. We can't interfere with them here, but must follow and come up with her just before they reach the chair. The further they are away from the house the better. Then if there is any trouble Captain Dave will not hear anything of it."
"That will be a good plan of operations," John agreed. "Matthew is just round the next corner. I will send him to Fenchurch Street at once."
He went away, and rejoined Cyril in two or three minutes. They then went along towards the house, and took post in a doorway on the other side of the street, some thirty yards from the shop. They had scarcely done so, when they heard footsteps, and presently saw two men come along in the middle of the street. They stopped and looked round.
"There is not a soul stirring," one said. "We can give the signal."
So saying, he sang a bar or two of a song popular at the time, and they then drew back from the road into a doorway and waited.
Five minutes later, Cyril and his fellow-watcher heard a very slight sound, and a figure stepped out from Captain Dowsett's door. The two men crossed at once and joined her. A few low words were spoken, and they moved away together, and turned up the lane.
As soon as they disappeared from sight, Cyril and John Wilkes issued out. The latter had produced some long strips of cloth, which he wound round both their boots, so as, he said, to muffle the oars. Their steps, therefore, as they followed, were almost noiseless. Walking fast, they came up to the three persons ahead of them just as they reached the sedan chair. The two chairmen were standing at the poles, and a third man was holding the door open with his hat in his hand.
"Avast heaving, mates!" John Wilkes said. "It seems to me as you are running this cargo without proper permits."
Nellie gave a slight scream on hearing the voice, while the man beside her stepped forward, exclaiming furiously:
"S" death, sir! who are you, and what are you interfering about?"
"I am an honest man I hope, master. My name is John Wilkes, and, as that young lady will tell you, I am in the employ of her father."
"Then I tell you, John Wilkes, or John the Devil, or whatever your name maybe, that if you don't at once take yourself off, I will let daylight into you," and he drew his sword, as did his two companions.
John gave a whistle, and the wooden-legged man was heard hurrying up from Fenchurch Street.
"Cut the scoundrel down, Penrose," Harvey exclaimed, "while I put the lady into the chair."
The man addressed sprang at Wilkes, but in a moment his Court sword was shivered by a blow from the latter's cudgel, which a moment later fell again on his head, sending him reeling back several paces.
"Stay, sir, or I will run you through," Cyril said, pricking Harvey sharply in the arm as he was urging Nellie to enter the chair.
"Oh, it's you, is it?" the other exclaimed, in a tone of fury. "My boy of Cheapside! Well, I can spare a moment to punish you."
"Oh, do not fight with him, my lord!" Nellie exclaimed.
"My lord!" Cyril laughed. "So he has become a lord, eh?"
Then he changed his tone.
"Mistress Nellie, you have been deceived. This fellow is no lord. He is a hanger-on of the Court, one John Harvey, a disreputable blackguard whom I heard boasting to his boon-companions of his conquest. I implore you to return home as quietly as you went. None will know of this."
He broke off suddenly, for, with an oath, Harvey rushed at him. Their swords clashed, there was a quick thrust and parry, and then Harvey staggered back with a sword-wound through the shoulder, dropping his sword to the ground.
"Your game is up, John Harvey," Cyril said. "Did you have your deserts I would pass my sword through your body. Now call your fellows off, or it will be worse for them."
"Oh, it is not true? Surely it cannot be true?" Nellie cried, addressing Harvey. "You cannot have deceived me?"
The fellow, smarting with pain, and seeing that the game was up, replied with a savage curse.
"You may think yourself lucky that you are only disabled, you villain!" Cyril said, taking a step towards him with his sword menacingly raised. "Begone, sir, before my patience is exhausted, or, by heaven! it will be your dead body that the chairmen will have to carry away."
"Disabled or not," John Wilkes exclaimed, "I will have a say in the matter;" and, with a blow with his cudgel, he stretched Harvey on the ground, and belaboured him furiously until Cyril dragged him away by force. Harvey rose slowly to his feet.
"Take yourself off, sir," Cyril said. "One of your brave companions has long ago bolted; the other is disarmed, and has his head broken. You may thank your stars that you have escaped with nothing worse than a sword-thrust through your shoulder, and a sound drubbing. Hanging would be a fit punishment for knaves like you. I warn you, if you ever address or in any way molest this lady again, you won't get off so easily."
Then he turned and offered his arm to Nellie, who was leaning against the wall in a half-fainting state. Not a word was spoken until they emerged from the lane.
"No one knows of this but ourselves, Mistress Nellie, and you will never hear of it from us. Glad indeed I am that I have saved you from the misery and ruin that must have resulted from your listening to that plausible scoundrel. Go quietly upstairs. We will wait here till we are sure that you have gone safely into your room; then we will follow. I doubt not that you are angry with me now, but in time you will feel that you have been saved from a great danger."
The door was not locked. He lifted the latch silently, and held the door open for her to pass in. Then he closed it again, and turned to the two men who followed them.
"This has been a good night's work, John."
"That has it. I don't think that young spark will be coming after City maidens again. Well, it has been a narrow escape for her. It would have broken the Captain's heart if she had gone in that way. What strange things women are! I have always thought Mistress Nellie as sensible a girl as one would want to see. Given a little over-much, perhaps, to thinking of the fashion of her dress, but that was natural enough, seeing how pretty she is and how much she is made of; and yet she is led, by a few soft speeches from a man she knows nothing of, to run away from home, and leave father, and mother, and all. Well, Matthew, lad, we sha'n't want any more watching. You have done a big service to the master, though he will never know it. I know I can trust you to keep a stopper on your jaws. Don't you let a soul know of this—not even your wife."
"You trust me, mate," the man replied. "My wife is a good soul, but her tongue runs nineteen to the dozen, and you might as well shout a thing out at Paul's Cross as drop it into her ear. I think my back will be well enough for me to come to work again to-morrow," he added, with a laugh.
"All right, mate. I shall be glad to have you again, for the chap who has been in your place is a landsman, and he don't know a marling-spike from an anchor. Good-night, mate."
"Well, Master Cyril," he went on, as the sailor walked away, "I don't think there ever was such a good wind as that which blew you here. First of all you saved Captain Dave's fortune, and now you save his daughter. I look on Captain Dave as being pretty nigh the same as myself, seeing as I have been with him man and boy for over thirty years, and I feel what you have done for him just as if you had done it for me. I am only a rough sailor-man, and I don't know how to put it in words, but I feel just full up with a cargo of thankfulness."
"That is all right," Cyril said, holding out his hand, which John Wilkes shook with a heartiness that was almost painful. "Captain Dave offered me a home when I was alone without a friend in London, and I am glad indeed that I have been able to render him service in return. I myself have done little enough, though I do not say that the consequences have not been important. It has been just taking a little trouble and keeping a few watches—a thing not worth talking about one way or the other. I hope this will do Mistress Nellie good. She is a nice girl, but too fond of admiration, and inclined to think that she is meant for higher things than to marry a London citizen. I think to-night's work will cure her of that. This fellow evidently made himself out to her to be a nobleman of the Court. Now she sees that he is neither a nobleman nor a gentleman, but a ruffian who took advantage of her vanity and inexperience, and that she would have done better to have jumped down the well in the yard than to have put herself in his power. Now we can go up to bed. There is no more probability of our waking the Captain than there has been on other nights; but mind, if we should do so, you stick to the story we agreed on, that you thought there was someone by the gate in the lane again, and so called me to go down with you to investigate, not thinking it worth while to rouse up the Captain on what might be a false alarm."
Everything remained perfectly quiet as they made their way upstairs to their rooms as silently as possible.
"Where is Nellie?" Captain Dave asked, when they assembled at breakfast.
"She is not well," his wife replied, "I went to her room just now and found that she was still a-bed. She said that she had a bad headache, and I fear that she is going to have a fever, for her face is pale and her eyes red and swollen, just as if she had been well-nigh crying them out of her head; her hands are hot and her pulse fast. Directly I have had breakfast I shall make her some camomile tea, and if that does not do her good I shall send for the doctor."
"Do so, wife, without delay. Why, the girl has never ailed a day for years! What can have come to her?"
"She says it is only a bad headache—that all she wants is to be left alone."
"Yes, yes; that is all very well, but if she does not get better soon she must be seen to. They say that there were several cases last week of that plague that has been doing so much harm in foreign parts, and if that is so it behoves us to be very careful, and see that any illness is attended to without delay."
"I don't think that there is any cause for alarm," his wife said quietly. "The child has got a headache and is a little feverish, but there is no occasion whatever for thinking that it is anything more. There is nothing unusual in a girl having a headache, but Nellie has had such good health that if she had a prick in the finger you would think it was serious."
"By the way, John," Captain Dave said suddenly, "did you hear any noise in the lane last night? Your room is at the back of the house, and you were more likely to have heard it than I was. I have just seen one of the watch, and he tells me that there was a fray there last night, for there is a patch of blood and marks of a scuffle. It was up at the other end. There is some mystery about it, he thinks, for he says that one of his mates last night saw a sedan chair escorted by three men turn into the lane from Fenchurch Street just before ten o'clock, and one of the neighbours says that just after that hour he heard a disturbance and a clashing of swords there. On looking out, he saw something dark that might have been a chair standing there, and several men engaged in a scuffle. It seemed soon over, and directly afterwards three people came down the lane this way. Then he fancied that someone got into the chair, which was afterwards carried out into Fenchurch Street."
"I did hear something that sounded like a quarrel or a fray," John Wilkes said, "but there is nothing unusual about that. As everything was soon quiet again, I gave no further thought to it."
"Well, it seems a curious affair, John. However, it is the business of the City watch and not mine, so we need not bother ourselves about it. I am glad to see you have got Matthew at work again this morning. He tells me that he thinks he has fairly got over that sprain in his back."
Mindful of the fact that this affair had added a new enemy to those he had acquired by the break-up of the Black Gang, Cyril thought it as well to go round and give notice to the two traders whose books he attended to in the evening, that unless they could arrange for him to do them in the daytime he must give up the work altogether. Both preferred the former alternative, for they recognised the advantage they had derived from his work, and that at a rate of pay for which they could not have obtained the services of any scrivener in the City.
It was three or four days before Nellie Dowsett made her appearance at the general table.
"I can't make out what ails the girl," her mother said, on the previous evening. "The fever speedily left her, as I told you, but she is weak and languid, and seems indisposed to talk."
"She will soon get over that, my dear," Captain Dave said. "Girls are not like men. I have seen them on board ship. One day they are laughing and fidgeting about like wild things, the next day they are poor, woebegone creatures. If she gets no better in a few days, I will see when my old friend, Jim Carroll, is starting in his brig for Yarmouth, and will run down with her myself—and of course with you, wife, if you will go—and stay there a few days while he is unloading and filling up again. The sea-air will set her up again, I warrant."
"Not at this time of year," Dame Dowsett said firmly. "With these bitter winds it is no time for a lass to go a-sailing; and they say that Yarmouth is a great deal colder than we are here, being exposed to the east winds."
"Well, well, Dame, then we will content ourselves with a run in the hoy down to Margate. If we choose well the wind and tide we can start from here in the morning and maybe reach there late in the evening, or, if not, the next morning to breakfast. Or if you think that too far we will stop at Sheerness, where we can get in two tides easily enough if the wind be fair."
"That would be better, David; but it were best to see how she goes on. It may be, as you say, that she will shortly gain her strength and spirits again."
It was evident, when Nellie entered the room at breakfast-time the next morning, that her mother's reports had not been exaggerated. She looked, indeed, as if recovering from a severe illness, and when she said good-morning to her father her voice trembled and her eyes filled with tears.
"Tut, tut, lass! This will never do. I shall soon hardly own you for my Nellie. We shall have to feed you up on capons and wine, child, or send you down to one of the baths for a course of strengthening waters."
She smiled faintly, and then turning, gave her hand to Cyril. As she did so, a slight flush of colour came into her cheeks.
"I am heartily glad to see you down again, Mistress Nellie," he said, "and wish you a fair and speedy recovery."
"I shall be better presently," she replied, with an effort. "Good-morning, John."
"Good-morning, Mistress Nellie. Right glad are we to see you down again, for it makes but a dull table without your merry laugh to give an edge to our appetites."
She sat down now, and the others, seeing that it was best to let her alone for a while, chatted gaily together.
"There is no talk in the City but of the war, Cyril," the Captain said presently. "They say that the Dutch make sure of eating us up, but they won't find it as easy a job as they fancy. The Duke of York is to command the Fleet. They say that Prince Rupert will be second. To my mind they ought to have entrusted the whole matter to him. He proved himself as brave a captain at sea as he was on land, and I will warrant he would lead his ships into action as gallantly as he rode at the head of his Cavaliers on many a stricken field. The ships are fitting out in all haste, and they are gathering men at every sea-port. I should say they will have no lack of hands, for there are many ships laid up, that at other times trade with Holland, and Dantzic, and Dunkirk, and many a bold young sailor who will be glad to try whether he can fight as stoutly against the Dutch under York and Rupert as his father did under Blake."
"For my part," Cyril said, "I cannot understand it; for it seems to me that the English and Dutch have been fighting for the last year. I have been too busy to read the Journal, and have not been in the way of hearing the talk of the coffeehouses and taverns; but, beyond that it is some dispute about the colonies, I know little of the matter."
"I am not greatly versed in it myself, lad. Nellie here reads the Journal, and goes abroad more than any of us, and should be able to tell us something about it. Now, girl, can't you do something to set us right in this matter, for I like not to be behind my neighbours, though I am such a stay-at-home, having, as I thank the Lord, much happiness here, and no occasion to go out to seek it."
"There was much discourse about it, father, the evening I went to Dame King's. There were several gentlemen there who had trade with the East, and one of them held shares in the English Company trading thither. After supper was over, they discoursed more fully on the matter than was altogether pleasing to some of us, who would much rather that, as we had hoped, we might have dancing or singing. I could see that Dame King herself was somewhat put out that her husband should have, without her knowing of his intention, brought in these gentlemen. Still, the matter of their conversation was new to us, and we became at last so mightily interested in it that we listened to the discourse without bemoaning ourselves that we had lost the amusement we looked for. I know I wished at the time that you had been there. I say not that I can repeat all that I heard, but as I had before read some of the matters spoken of in the Journal, I could follow what the gentlemen said more closely. Soon after the coming of the King to the throne the friendship between us and the Spaniards, that had been weakened during the mastership of Cromwell, was renewed, and they gave our ships many advantages at their ports, while, on the other hand, they took away the privileges the Dutch had enjoyed there, and thus our commerce with Spain increased, while that of the Dutch diminished."
"That is certainly true, Nellie," her father said. "We have three ships sailing through the Mediterranean now to one that sailed there ten years ago, and doubtless the Dutch must have suffered by the increase in our trade."
"Then he said that, as we had obtained the Island of Bombay in the East Indies and the City of Tangier in Africa as the dowry of the Queen, and had received the Island of Poleron for our East India Company by the treaty with Holland, our commerce everywhere increased, and raised their jealousy higher and higher. There was nothing in this of which complaint could be made by the Dutch Government, but nevertheless they gave encouragement to their East and West India Companies to raise trouble. Their East India Company refused to hand over the Island, and laid great limitations as to the places at which our merchants might trade in India. The other Company acted in the same manner, and lawlessly took possession of Cape Coast Castle, belonging to our English Company.
"The Duke of York, who was patron and governor of our African Company, sent Sir Robert Holmes with four frigates to Guinea to make reprisals. He captured a place from the Dutch and named it James's Fort, and then, proceeding to the river Gambia, he turned out the Dutch traders there and built a fort. A year ago, as the Dutch still held Cape Coast Castle, Sir Robert was sent out again with orders to take it by force, and on the way he overhauled a Dutch ship and found she carried a letter of secret instructions from the Dutch Government to the West India Company to take the English Fort at Cormantin. Seeing that the Hollanders, although professing friendship, were thus treacherously inclined, he judged himself justified in exceeding the commission he had received, and on his way south he touched at Cape Verde. There he first captured two Dutch ships and then attacked their forts on the Island of Gorse and captured them, together with a ship lying under their guns.
"In the fort he found a great quantity of goods ready to be shipped. He loaded his own vessels, and those that he had captured, with the merchandise, and carried it to Sierra Leone. Then he attacked the Dutch fort of St. George del Mena, the strongest on the coast, but failed there; but he soon afterwards captured Cape Coast Castle, though, as the gentlemen said, a mightily strong place. Then he sailed across to America, and, as you know, captured the Dutch Settlements of New Netherlands, and changed the name into that of New York. He did this not so much out of reprisal for the misconduct of the Dutch in Africa, but because the land was ours by right, having been discovered by the Cabots and taken possession of in the name of King Henry VII., and our title always maintained until the Dutch seized it thirty years ago.
"Then the Dutch sent orders to De Ruyter, who commanded the fleet which was in the Mediterranean, to sail away privately and to make reprisals on the Coast of Guinea and elsewhere. He first captured several of our trading forts, among them that of Cormantin, taking great quantities of goods belonging to our Company; he then sailed to Barbadoes, where he was beaten off by the forts. Then he captured twenty of our ships off Newfoundland, and so returned to Holland, altogether doing damage, as the House of Commons told His Majesty, to the extent of eight hundred thousand pounds. All this time the Dutch had been secretly preparing for war, which they declared in January, which has forced us to do the same, although we delayed a month in hopes that some accommodation might be arrived at. I think, father, that is all that he told us, though there were many details that I do not remember."
"And very well told, lass, truly. I wonder that your giddy head should have taken in so much matter. Of course, now you tell them over, I have heard these things before—the wrong that the Dutch did our Company by seizing their post at Cape Coast, and the reprisals that Sir Robert Holmes took upon them with our Company's ships—but they made no great mark on my memory, for I was just taking over my father's work when the first expedition took place. At any rate, none can say that we have gone into this war unjustly, seeing that the Dutch began it, altogether without cause, by first attacking our trading posts."
"It seems to me, Captain Dave," John Wilkes said, "that it has been mighty like the war that our English buccaneers waged against the Spaniards in the West Indies, while the two nations were at peace at home."
"It is curious," Cyril said, "that the trouble begun in Africa should have shifted to the other side of the Atlantic."
"Ay, lad; just as that first trouble was at last fought out in the English Channel, off the coast of France, so this is likely to be decided in well-nigh the same waters."
"The gentlemen, the other night, were all of opinion," Nellie said, "that the matter would never have come to such a head had it not been that De Witt, who is now the chief man in Holland, belongs to the French party there, and has been urged on by King Louis, for his own interest, to make war with us."
"That may well be, Nellie. In all our English wars France has ever had a part either openly or by intrigues. France never seems to be content with attending to her own business, but is ever meddling with her neighbours', and, if not fighting herself, trying to set them by the ears against each other. If I were a bit younger, and had not lost my left flipper, I would myself volunteer for the service. As for Master Cyril here, I know he is burning to lay aside the pen and take to the sword."
"That is so, Captain Dave. As you know, I only took up the pen to keep me until I was old enough to use a sword. I have been two years at it now, and I suppose it will be as much longer before I can think of entering the service of one of the Protestant princes; but as soon as I am fit to do so, I shall get an introduction and be off; but I would tenfold rather fight for my own country, and would gladly sail in the Fleet, though I went but as a ship's boy."
"That is the right spirit, Master Cyril," John Wilkes exclaimed. "I would go myself if the Captain could spare me and they would take such a battered old hulk."
"I couldn't spare you, John," Captain Dave said. "I have been mighty near making a mess of it, even with you as chief mate, and I might as well shut up shop altogether if you were to leave me. I should miss you, too, Cyril," he went on, stretching his arm across the table to shake hands with the lad. "You have proved a real friend and a true; but were there a chance of your going as an officer, I would not balk you, even if I could do so. It is but natural that a lad of spirit should speak and think as you do; besides, the war may not last for long, and when you come back, and the ships are paid off, you would soon wipe off the arrears of work, and get the books into ship-shape order. But, work or no work, that room of yours will always stand ready for you while I live, and there will always be a plate for you on this table."
"Thank you, Captain Dave. You always overrate my services, and forget that they are but the consequence of the kindness that you have shown to me. But I have no intention of going. It was but a passing thought. I have but one friend who could procure me a berth as a volunteer, and as it is to him I must look for an introduction to some foreign prince, I would not go to him twice for a favour, especially as I have no sort of claim on his kindness. To go as a cabin boy would be to go with men under my own condition, and although I do not shirk hard work and rough usage, I should not care for them in such fashion. Moreover, I am doing work which, even without your hospitality, would suffice to keep me comfortably, and if I went away, though but for a month, I might find that those for whom I work had engaged other assistance. Spending naught, I am laying by money for the time when I shall have to travel at my own expense and to provide myself necessaries, and, maybe, to keep myself for a while until I can procure employment. I have the prospect that, by the end of another two years, I shall have gathered a sufficient store for all my needs, and I should be wrong to throw myself out of employment merely to embark on an adventure, and so to make a break, perhaps a long one, in my plans."
"Don't you worry yourself on that score," Captain Dave said warmly, and then checked himself. "It will be time to talk about that when the time comes. But you are right, lad. I like a man who steadfastly holds on the way he has chosen, and will not turn to the right or left. There is not much that a man cannot achieve if he keeps his aim steadily in view. Why, Cyril, if you said you had made up your mind to be Lord Mayor of London, I would wager that you would some day be elected."
Cyril laughed.
"I shall never set my eyes in that direction, nor do I think the thing I have set myself to do will ever be in my power—that is, to buy back my father's estate; but so long as I live I shall keep that in view."
"More unlikely things have happened, lad. You have got first to rise to be a General; then, what with your pay and your share in the sack of a city or two, and in other ways, you may come home with a purse full enough even for that. But it is time for us to be going down below. Matthew will think that we have forgotten him altogether."
Another fortnight passed. Nellie had, to a considerable extent, recovered from the shock that she had suffered, but her manner was still quiet and subdued, her sallies were less lively, and her father noticed, with some surprise, that she no longer took any great interest in the gossip he retailed of the gay doings of the Court.
"I can't think what has come over the girl," he said to his wife. "She seems well in health again, but she is changed a good deal, somehow. She is gentler and softer. I think she is all the better for it, but I miss her merry laugh and her way of ordering things about, as if her pleasure only were to be consulted."
"I think she is very much improved," Mrs. Dowsett said decidedly; "though I can no more account for it than you can. She never used to have any care about the household, and now she assists me in my work, and is in all respects dutiful and obedient, and is not for ever bent upon gadding about as she was before. I only hope it will continue so, for, in truth, I have often sighed over the thought that she would make but a poor wife for an honest citizen."
"Tut, tut, wife. It has never been as bad as that. Girls will be girls, and if they are a little vain of their good looks, that will soften down in time, when they get to have the charge of a household. You yourself, dame, were not so staid when I first wooed you, as you are now; and I think you had your own little share of vanity, as was natural enough in the prettiest girl in Plymouth."
When Nellie was in the room Cyril did his best to save her from being obliged to take part in the conversation, by inducing Captain Dave to tell him stories of some of his adventures at sea.
"You were saying, Captain Dave, that you had had several engagements with the Tunis Rovers," he said one evening. "Were they ever near taking you?"
"They did take me once, lad, and that without an engagement; but, fortunately, I was not very long a prisoner. It was not a pleasant time though, John, was it?"
"It was not, Captain Dave. I have been in sore danger of wreck several times, and in three big sea-fights; but never did I feel so out of heart as when I was lying, bound hand and foot, on the ballast in the hold of that corsair. No true sailor is afraid of being killed; but the thought that one might be all one's life a slave among the cruel heathen was enough to take the stiffness out of any man's courage."
"But how was it that you were taken without an engagement, Captain Dave? And how did you make your escape?"
"Well, lad, it was the carelessness of my first mate that did it; but as he paid for his fault with his life let us say naught against him. He was a handsome, merry young fellow, and had shipped as second mate, but my first had died of fever in the Levant, and of course he got the step, though all too young for the responsibility. We had met with some bad weather when south of Malta, and had had a heavy gale for three days, during which time we lost our main topmast, and badly strained the mizzen. The weather abated when we were off Pantellaria, which is a bare rock rising like a mountain peak out of the sea, and with only one place where a landing can be safely effected. As the gale had blown itself out, and it was likely we should have a spell of settled weather, I decided to anchor close in to the Island, and to repair damages.
"We were hard at work for two days. All hands had had a stiff time of it, and the second night, having fairly repaired damages, I thought to give the crew a bit of a rest, and, not dreaming of danger, ordered that half each watch might remain below. John Wilkes was acting as my second mate. Pettigrew took the first watch; John had the middle watch; and then the other came up again. I turned out once or twice, but everything was quiet—we had not seen a sail all day. There was a light breeze blowing, but no chance of its increasing, and as we were well sheltered in the only spot where the anchorage was good, I own that I did not impress upon Pettigrew the necessity for any particular vigilance. Anyhow, just as morning was breaking I was woke by a shout. I ran out on deck, but as I did so there was a rush of dark figures, and I was knocked down and bound before I knew what had happened. As soon as I could think it over, it was clear enough. The Moor had been coming into the anchorage, and, catching sight of us in the early light, had run alongside and boarded us.
"The watch, of course, must have been asleep. There was not a shot fired nor a drop of blood shed, for those on deck had been seized and bound before they could spring to their feet, and the crew had all been caught in their bunks. It was bitter enough. There was the vessel gone, and the cargo, and with them my savings of twenty years' hard work, and the prospect of slavery for life. The men were all brought aft and laid down side by side. Young Pettigrew was laid next to me.
"'I wish to heaven, captain,' he said, 'you had got a pistol and your hand free, and would blow out my brains for me. It is all my fault, and hanging at the yard-arm is what I deserve. I never thought there was the slightest risk—not a shadow of it—and feeling a bit dozy, sat down for five minutes' caulk. Seeing that, no doubt the men thought they might do the same; and this is what has come of it. I must have slept half an hour at least, for there was no sail in sight when I went off, and this Moor must have come round the point and made us out after that.'
"The corsair was lying alongside of us, her shrouds lashed to ours. There was a long jabbering among the Moors when they had taken off our hatches and seen that we were pretty well full up with cargo; then, after a bit, we were kicked, and they made signs for us to get on our feet and to cross over into their ship. The crew were sent down into the forward hold, and some men went down with them to tie them up securely. John Wilkes, Pettigrew, and myself were shoved down into a bit of a place below the stern cabin. Our legs were tied, as well as our arms. The trap was shut, and there we were in the dark. Of course I told Pettigrew that, though he had failed in his duty, and it had turned out badly, he wasn't to be blamed as if he had gone to sleep in sight of an enemy.
"'I had never given the Moors a thought myself,' I said, 'and it was not to be expected that you would. But no sailor, still less an officer, ought to sleep on his watch, even if his ship is anchored in a friendly harbour, and you are to blame that you gave way to drowsiness. Still, even if you hadn't, it might have come to the same thing in the long run, for the corsair is a large one, and might have taken us even if you had made her out as she rounded the point.'
"But, in spite of all I could say to cheer him, he took it to heart badly, and was groaning and muttering to himself when they left us in the dark, so I said to him,—
"'Look here, lad, the best way to retrieve the fault you have committed is to try and get us out of the scrape. Set your brains to work, and let us talk over what had best be done. There is no time to be lost, for with a fair wind they can run from here to Tunis in four-and-twenty hours, and once there one may give up all hope. There are all our crew on board this ship. The Moor carried twice as many men as we do, but we may reckon they will have put more than half of them on board our barque; they don't understand her sails as well as they do their own, and will therefore want a strong prize crew on board.'
"'I am ready to do anything, captain,' the young fellow said firmly. 'If you were to give me the word, I would get into their magazine if I could, and blow the ship into the air.'
"'Well, I don't know that I will give you that order, Pettigrew. To be a heathen's slave is bad, but, at any rate, I would rather try that life for a bit than strike my colours at once. Now let us think it over. In the first place we have to get rid of these ropes; then we have to work our way forward to the crew; and then to get on deck and fight for it. It is a stiff job, look at it which way one will, but at any rate it will be better to be doing something—even if we find at last that we can't get out of this dog-kennel—than to lie here doing nothing.'
"After some talk, we agreed that it was not likely the Moors would come down to us for a long time, for they might reckon that we could hold on without food or water easy enough until they got to Tunis; having agreed as to that point, we set to work to get our ropes loose. Wriggling wouldn't do it, though we tried until the cords cut into our flesh.
"At last Pettigrew said,—
"'What a fool I am! I have got my knife hanging from a lanyard round my neck. It is under my blouse, so they did not notice it when they turned my pockets out.'
"It was a long job to get at that knife. At last I found the string behind his neck, and, getting hold of it with my teeth, pulled till the knife came up to his throat. Then John got it in his teeth, and the first part of the job was done. The next was easy enough. John held the handle of the knife in his teeth and Pettigrew got hold of the blade in his, and between them they made a shift to open it; then, after a good deal of trouble, Pettigrew shifted himself till he managed to get the knife in his hands. I lay across him and worked myself backwards and forwards till the blade cut through the rope at my wrist; then, in two more minutes, we were free. Then we felt about, and found that the boarding between us and the main hold was old and shaky, and, with the aid of the knife and of our three shoulders, we made a shift at last to wrench one of the boards from its place.
"Pettigrew, who was slightest, crawled through, and we soon got another plank down. The hold was half full of cargo, which, no doubt, they had taken out of some ship or other. We made our way forward till we got to the bulkhead, which, like the one we had got through, was but a make-shift sort of affair, with room to put your fingers between the planks. So we hailed the men and told them how we had got free, and that if they didn't want to work all their lives as slaves they had best do the same. They were ready enough, you may be sure, and, finding a passage between the planks wider in one place than the rest, we passed the knife through to them, and told them how to set about cutting the rope. They were a deal quicker over it than we had been, for in our place there had been no height where we could stand upright, but they were able to do so. Two men, standing back to back and one holding the knife, made quick work of cutting the rope.
"We had plenty of strength now, and were not long in getting down a couple of planks. The first thing was to make a regular overhaul of the cargo—as well as we could do it, without shifting things and making a noise—to look for weapons or for anything that would come in handy for the fight. Not a thing could we find, but we came upon a lot of kegs that we knew, by their feel, were powder. If there had been arms and we could have got up, we should have done it at once, trusting to seize the ship before the other could come up to her help. But without arms it would be madness to try in broad daylight, and we agreed to wait till night, and to lie down again where we were before, putting the ropes round our legs again and our hands behind our backs, so that, if they did look in, everything should seem secure.
"'We shall have plenty of time,' one of the sailors said, 'for they have coiled a big hawser down on the hatch.'
"When we got back to our lazaret, we tried the hatch by which we had been shoved down, but the three of us couldn't move it any more than if it had been solid stone. We had a goodish talk over it, and it was clear that the hatchway of the main hold was our only chance of getting out; and we might find that a tough job.
"'If we can't do it in any other way,' Pettigrew said, 'I should say we had best bring enough bales and things to fill this place up to within a foot of the top; then on that we might put a keg of powder, bore a hole in it, and make a slow match that would blow the cabin overhead into splinters, while the bales underneath it would prevent the force of the explosion blowing her bottom out.'
"We agreed that, if the worst came to the worst, we would try this, and having settled that, went back to have a look at the main hatch. Feeling about round it, we found the points of the staple on which the hatchway bar worked above; they were not fastened with nuts as they would have been with us, but were simply turned over and clinched. We had no means of straightening them out, but we could cut through the woodwork round them. Setting to work at that, we took it by turns till we could see the light through the wood; then we left it to finish after dark. All this time we knew we were under sail by the rippling of the water along the sides. The men on board were evidently in high delight at their easy capture, and kicked up so much noise that there was no fear of their hearing any slight stir we made below.
"Very carefully we brought packages and bales under the hatchway, till we built up a sort of platform about four feet below it. We reckoned that, standing as thick as we could there, and all lifting together, we could make sure of hoisting the hatchway up, and could then spring out in a moment.
"Pettigrew still stuck to his plan, and talked us into carrying it out, both under the fore and aft hatches, pointing out that the two explosions would scare the crew out of their wits, that some would be killed, and many jump overboard in their fright. We came to see that the scheme was really a good one, so set all the crew to carry out the business, and they, working with stockinged feet, built up a platform under their hatch, as well as in our den aft. Then we made holes in two of the kegs of powder, and, shaking a little out, damped it, and rubbed it into two strips of cotton. Putting an end of a slow match into each of the holes, we laid the kegs in their places and waited.
"We made two other fuses, so that a man could go forward, and another aft, to fire them both together. Two of the men were told off for this job, and the rest of us gathered under the main hatch, for we had settled now that if we heard them making any move to open the hatches we would fire the powder at once, whatever hour it was. In order to be ready, we cut deeper into the woodwork round the staple till there was but the thickness of a card remaining, and we could tell by this how light it was above.
"It don't take long to tell you, but all this had taken us a good many hours; and so baked were we by the heat down below, and parched by thirst, that it was as much as I could do to persuade the men to wait until nightfall. At last we saw the light in the cut fade and darken. Again the men wanted to be at work, but I pointed out that if we waited till the crew had laid down on the deck, we might carry it through without losing a life, but if they were all awake, some of them would be sure to come at us with their weapons, and, unarmed as we were, might do us much harm. Still, though I succeeded in keeping the men quiet, I felt it was hard work to put a stopper on my own impatience.
"At last even John here spoke up for action.
"'I expect those who mean to sleep are off by this time,' he said. 'As to reckoning upon them all going off, there ain't no hope of it; they will sit and jabber all night. They have made a good haul, and have taken a stout ship with a full hold, and five-and-twenty stout slaves, and that without losing a man. There won't be any sleep for most of them. I reckon it is two bells now. I do think, Captain, we might as well begin, for human nature can't stand this heat and thirst much longer.'
"'All right, John,' I said. 'Now, lads, remember that when the first explosion comes—for we can't reckon on the two slow matches burning just the same time—we all heave together till we find the hatch lifts; then, when the second comes, we chuck it over and leap out. If you see a weapon, catch it up, but don't waste time looking about, but go at them with your fists. They will be scared pretty well out of their senses, and you will not be long before you all get hold of weapons of some sort. Now, Pettigrew, shove your blade up through the wood and cut round the staple. Now, Jack Brown, get out that tinder-box you said you had about you, and get a spark going.'
"Three or four clicks were heard as the sailor struck his flint against the steel lid of the tinder-box.