His excited motions had been seen by a small knot of wagoners and farm-hands, who were drinking and gossiping on the benches before the Fish and Anchor, to wile away the time of waiting for the King's arrival. At first they thought the royal cavalcade must be in sight, though not expected for an hour or more; and hurried up in twos and threes.

"What's the to-do, Captain?"

"Where's that lumbering fool Narcissus?" demanded Captain Barker, stamping his foot and pointing to the cluster over his head.

Mr. Swiggs came forward, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He had been the last to arrive, having lingered a minute to attend to the half-emptied mugs of his more impatient fellows.

"Here," he announced.

"Fetch a ladder, and bring one of the new hives—the one I rubbed with elder-buds the day before yesterday. Tristram, run to the house for my gloves and a board. Quick, I say—here, somebody kick that one-eyed dawdler! What the plague? Haven't there been kings enough in England these last fifty years that you waste a good afternoon on the look-out for the newest?"

"You'll be careful of my arch, Captain?" the landlord hazarded nervously. "His Majesty'll be coming along presently—"

"I'll be careful of my bees. D'ye want me to leave them there till he passes, and maybe to lose the half of my swarm down the nape of his royal neck? I can't help their wearing the orange: they were born o' that colour, which is more than you can say, landlord, or any man Jack here present. But I can prevent their swarming and buzzing in his Majesty's path like any crowd of turncoats. Ah, here comes Tristram with the ladder! Set it here, my boy. Take care—don't run a hole through King William—leave that to his new friends. So— now pull on the gloves and step up, while I come after with the hive!"

Tristram, having fixed the ladder firmly a little to the right of the swarm, began to ascend. Captain Barker, giving orders to Narcissus to stand by with the flat board, took the empty hive, and holding it balanced upside-down in the hollow of his palm, was preparing to follow on Tristram's heels, when an interruption occurred.

Round the corner of the road from Harwich town came a red-coated captain, riding on a grey charger, and behind him a company of foot marching eight abreast, with a sergeant beside them.

"Hullo!" cried the Captain, halting his company and riding forward. He was a thin and foppish young gentleman in a flaxen wig, and spoke with a high sense of authority, having but recently sacrificed the pleasures of his coffee-house and a fine view of St. James's Park to seek even in the cannon's mouth a bubble reputation that promised to be fashionable.

"Hullo! what's the meaning of this?"

"Bees," answered Captain Barker shortly. "Narcissus, is the board ready?"

"Do you know, sir, that his Majesty is shortly expected along here?"

"To be sure I do."

"Then, sir, you are obstructing the road. This is most irregular."

"Not at all—most regular thing in the world. A little early, perhaps, for the first swarm."

"Be so good as to take down that ladder at once, and let my company pass."

"A step higher, Tristram," said the little man, turning a deaf ear to this order. "Better use the right hand. Wait a moment, while I get the hive underneath."

"Take down that ladder!" shouted the red-coated officer.

"You must wait a moment, I'm afraid."

"You refuse?"

"Oh dear, yes! Keep back, sir, for the bees are easily frightened."

"Sergeant!" foamed the young man, "come and remove this ladder!"

He spurred his horse up to the arch as the sergeant stepped forward. The beast, being restive, rubbed against the ladder with his flank and shook it violently just as Tristram dislodged the swarm overhead. Captain Barker reached out, however, and caught them deftly in the upturned hive. Into it they tumbled plump. But the little man, exasperated by the shock, had now completely lost his temper. With sudden and infernal malice he inverted the beehive and clapped it, bees and all, on the officer's head.

With that he skipped down to the ground, and Tristram, foreseeing mischief, slid down after him quick as thought.

The officer roared like Hercules caught in the shirt of Nessus. Nor for a few seconds could he get rid of his diabolical helmet: for a couple of bees had stung the charger, which began to plunge and caper like a mad thing, scattering the crowd right and left with his hoofs. When at length he shook the hive off, the furious swarm poured out upon the air, dealing vengeance. The soldiers, whose red coats attracted them at once, fled this way and that, howling with pain, pursued now by the bees and now chased into circles by the lashing heels of the grey horse. The poor brute was stung by degrees into a frenzy. With a wild leap, in which his four legs seemed to meet under his belly, he pitched his master clean over the crupper and, as a wind through chaff, swept through the people at a gallop and off along the road towards the town.

"Phew!" whistled Captain John Barker: and stepping quickly to the prostrate officer he whipped the unhappy gentleman's sword from its sheath and handed it to Tristram.

"We'd best get out of this."

"That's not easy. There's a score of soldiers between us and the gate; and the sergeant looks like mischief."

"Bless my soul, what a face I've put on that young man!"

The officer, who had been stunned for a moment by his fall, was soon recalled to life by the pain of the stings. He sat up and looked round. Already his face had about as much feature as a turnip. His eyes were closing fast, and a lump as large as a plover's egg hung on his under-lip.

"Seize those men!" he shouted, and began a string of oaths, but stopped because the utterance caused him agony.

The sergeant, who had been bending over him, drew his side-arm and advanced—a hulking big fellow with a pimply face and an ugly look in his eye.

"Dad," said Tristram, "you made me promise once never to run a man through unless he molested me in the midst of a peaceful pursuit."

"Well?"

"It appears to me that bee-keeping is a peaceful pursuit."

"Decidedly."

"And that this fellow is going to molest me."

"It looks like it."

"Then I may run him through?"

"Say rather that you must."

"Thank you, dad. I felt sure of it; but this is the first time I've had to decide, and as it was a promise—You'd best get behind me, I think. Set your back to the arch. Now, sir."

"You are my prisoners," the sergeant announced.

"Pardon me. Let me direct your notice to this weapon, which is in carte—you seem to have overlooked it."

"You are making matters worse."

"That is very likely. Guard, sir, if you please!"

"You mean to resist?"

"Ah, have you grasped that fact, at last?"

The sergeant rushed upon him and crossed swords. His first lunge was put aside easily, and he was forced to break ground.

"Hullo! So you can really fence!" he panted, feinting and aiming a furious thrust at Tristram's throat.

"Upon my word," said Tristram, parrying, and running him through the thigh as he recovered, "this gentleman seems astonished at everything!"

As the sergeant dropped, Captain Barker darted from behind Tristram and pounced upon a musket which one of the soldiers had abandoned when first assailed by the bees.

"This gets serious," he muttered. "Those fellows yonder are fixing bayonets."

Indeed, some half a dozen of the red-coats had already done so, and surrender seemed but a matter of a few moments.

"Give me the musket," said Tristram placidly, "and take the sword. My arm is longer than yours. Now get behind my shoulder again. Don't expose yourself, but if one of these fellows slips under my guard, I leave him to you."

"Good boy!" murmured the little man, exchanging weapons. It is a fact that tears of pride filled his eyes.

"There are six of them. Excuse me, dad, if I ask you to look out for your head. I am going to try a moulinet."

The six soldiers came on in a very determined manner, each man presenting his bayonet at Tristram's chest. They had little doubt of his instant submission, and were considerably surprised when Tristram, lifting the musket by its barrel, began to whirl it round his head with the fury of a maniac. The foremost, as the butt whizzed by his cheek, drew back a pace.

"Run the rebels through!" cursed the officer behind them.

The leader shortened his grasp on his bayonet, and, watching his opportunity, dashed under Tristram's arm. At the same instant Captain Barker popped out, and with a quiet pass spitted him clean through the right lung.

"All together, you sons of dogs!" yelled the sergeant, who had dragged himself to a little distance, and was stanching the flow of blood from his wounded thigh.

Two of the soldiers heard the advice and came on together with a rush. The first of them caught the full swing of Tristram's musket on the side of his stiff cap and went down like an ox. The second took Captain Barker's sword through the left arm and dropped his bayonet. But before either Tristram or the Captain could disengage his weapon the other three assailants were upon them, and the fight was over.

"Surrender!" cried one, holding his point against Tristram's chest.

"Must I?" the latter inquired, turning to Captain Barker.

"H'm, there seems to be no choice."

"And you also, sir."

"Certainly. Here is my sword; it belongs to your captain yonder, whom you may recognise by his uniform. Assure him, with my compliments—"

He was interrupted by the clatter of hoofs, and two gentlemen on horseback came cantering up the road and drew rein suddenly.

"Hey! What have we here?" demanded a foreign voice.

The soldiers turned and presented arms in a flurry. The taller of the two horsemen was an extremely handsome cavalier in a nut-brown peruque and scarlet riding-suit on which several orders glistened. He bestrode a black charger of remarkable size and beauty; and seemed, by his stature and presence, to domineer over his companion, a small man with a hooked nose and an extremely emaciated face, who wore a plain habit of dark purple and rode a sorrel blood-mare of no especial points. Nevertheless it was this little man who had spoken, and at the sound of his voice a whisper ran through the crowd:

"The King!"

It was, in fact, his Majesty King William III., who, tired of the slow jolting of the royal coach along the abominable road of that period, had exchanged that equipage for his favourite mare and cantered ahead of his escort, refreshing his senses in the strong breeze that swept from seaward across the level country.

"Sir, will you be good enough to explain?" he demanded again, addressing the unfortunate officer, who had picked himself up from the road and stood covered with shame and swellings.

"Your Majesty, the two prisoners here were engaged in obstructing your Majesty's high-road."

"They seem to be still doing so."

"And knowing that your Majesty was shortly expected to pass, I proceeded to remove them."

"But what is this? A company of my foot-guards in confusion! One-two-three-four of them wounded—if, indeed, one is not killed outright! Do you tell me that this old man and this boy have done it all, besides bruising the faces of a dozen more?"

"They and a swarm of cursed bees, your Majesty."

"This is incredible! . . . Bees?"

"Yes, your Majesty," put in Captain Barker, "he is telling you the truth. You see, it happened that my bees swarmed this afternoon, and had no better taste than to alight on this arch, under which your Majesty was shortly expected to pass. We were about to hive them when this young gentleman came along at the head of his company, and there arose a discussion, at the end of which I hived him instead."

"But these wounded men—"

"Ah, your Majesty, it was unfortunate; but one can never tell where these discussions will end."

"Three of my men and a sergeant placed hors de combat—a dozen more unfit to be seen—an officer dismounted, and his whole company scattered like a flock of geese! I am seriously annoyed, sir. What is your name?"

"Sire, I am called Captain Barker, and was formerly an officer in the fleet of his late Majesty King Charles the Second."

"Barker . . . Barker? I seem to remember your name. Captain John Barker, are you not?"

"That is so."

"Sometime in command of the Wasp frigate?"

"Your Majesty has a perfect recollection of his most insignificant enemies."

King William bit his lip.

"My memory is good, Captain Barker, as you say. Why did you quit the service?"

"For private reasons."

"Come, sir; you were, if I remember right, a gallant commander. With such their country's service stands above private reasons. Of late your country's claim has been urgent upon all brave men; and, by the havoc I see around, you are not past warfare."

"Well, but—"

"Speak out."

"Sire, all my life I have fought against Dutchmen."

"You found them worthy foes, I expect."

"In all respects."

"Would they be less worthy allies?"

"Not at all. But consider, sire, the habits of a lifetime. From boyhood I never met a Dutchman whom it was not my duty to knock down. To-day, if I sailed in an English ship-of-war, what should I find? Dutchmen all around me. Your Majesty, I cannot speak the Dutch language except with a cutlass. I distrust my habits. They would infallibly lead to confusion. In the heat of action, for instance—"

The little man stopped abruptly. It seemed that his speech gave uncommon pleasure to the tall gentleman on the black charger, whose face twitched with a barely perceptible smile. King William, on the other hand, was frowning heavily.

"Sir," he said, "your tongue runs dangerously near sedition."

"I am sorry your Majesty thinks so."

"You are also very foolish. I find you incurring my just anger, and hint, as plainly as I can, at an honourable way of escape. Captain Barker, are you aware that your case is serious?"

"I am, sire. Nevertheless, I decline to escape by the road you are good enough to leave open."

"Your reasons?"

"They are private, as I had the honour to inform your Majesty."

"My lord," said the King, turning irritably to his companion, "what shall I do to this intractable old man? You have a voice in this, seeing that he has spoilt four of your favourite guards."

The tall man in scarlet bent and muttered a word or two in a low voice.

"Ah, to be sure: I had forgotten the youngster. Is this your son, sir?"

"By adoption only."

"A strapping fellow," said his Majesty, eyeing Tristram from head to foot.

"And as good as he's tall. Sire, his offence—if offence it be— arose from the affection he bears me, and from no worse cause. He would not willingly hurt a fly."

"What is he called?"

"Tristram."

"He has a second name, I suppose?"

"Tristram Salt, then, in full."

The man in scarlet at these words gave a quick, penetrating glance at the speaker, and for an instant seemed about to speak; but closed his lips again, and fell to regarding Tristram with interest, as King William went on:

"He ought to be in my army."

"Your Majesty does him much honour, but—"

"But?"

"May it please your Majesty, I had other intentions concerning him."

"My lord of Marlborough," said the King, turning coldly from the little man and pointing with his gloved hand towards Tristram, "allow me to present you with a recruit."

Captain Barker's face was twisted with a spasm of fury. But as he stammered for words another voice was lifted, and Captain Runacles came through the crowd. He had been fetched from his laboratory by Mr. Swiggs, and had arrived on the scene in time to hear the last sentence.

"Your Majesty! Listen to me!"

King William was turning calmly to ride back to his escort. But at sight of the intruder's commanding and venerable figure he checked his mare.

"Pray, sir, who are you? And what have you to say?"

"I'm Jeremy Runacles, and this lad's guardian."

"He is peculiarly unfortunate in the loyalty of his protectors."

"Sire, I have served my country in times past."

"I know it, Captain Runacles. But it seems that you, too, fight only against the Dutch."

"Your Majesty has, it appears, done me the honour to study my poor record."

"My word, sir! Does that surprise you?"

"No, sire, it reassures me. For you must be aware that I am no rebel."

"H'm."

"Though, to be sure, I cannot help my tastes."

"You may suffer for them, none the less."

"I am ready to pay for them. Since your Majesty has taken a fancy to this young man—"

"Who, by the way, has maltreated a whole company of my guards."

"—Permit me, as his guardian, to ransom him. He has large estates."

"You forget, sir," exclaimed the King haughtily, "that I am punishing him. Do you entertain the idea of bribing me?"

"I forget nothing, sire. I even remember that this is England, and not Holland."

"My lord," said William, turning to the Earl of Marlborough, "I pray you dispose of the recruit as you think fit. Have him removed, and have the highroad cleared of these rebels; for I see my escort down the road."

And touching the sorrel with his heel, his Majesty cantered back to meet the approaching cavalcade.



CHAPTER VI.

THE EARL OF MARLBOROUGH SEEKS RECRUITS.

Night had fallen. It was past eight o'clock, and Captain John and Captain Jemmy sat facing each other, one on each side of the empty fireplace, in Captain John's library. They were in complete darkness—for the red glow of tobacco in the pipe which Captain Jemmy puffed dejectedly could hardly be called a light. For half an hour no word had been spoken, when somebody tapped at the door.

"What is it?" asked Captain Barker.

"A gentleman to see you," answered the voice of Mr. Swiggs.

"What's his name?"

"He won't say."

"Tell him I am busy to-night."

Narcissus withdrew, and knocked again a minute later.

"He says he must see you."

"Have you turned him out?"

"I told him you were busy with Captain Jemmy. 'Who's Captain Jemmy?' he asks. 'Captain Jemmy Runacles,' I answers. 'All the better,' says he."

"Excuse me," said a voice at the door; "but my business concerns both of you gentlemen. Also it concerns Tristram Salt."

"Narcissus, bring a couple of candles."

While Mr. Swiggs was executing this order an oppressive silence filled the room. The stranger's dark shadow rested motionless by the doorway. Above the breathing of the three men could only be heard the far-off sound of Harwich bells still ringing their welcome to King William.

When the candles were brought in and Narcissus had retired again after closing the shutters, the stranger removed the broad-brimmed hat and heavy cloak which he had worn till that moment, and tossed them negligently on the table before him.

It was the scarlet-coated cavalier who had ridden beside the King that afternoon.

"The Earl of Marlborough!"

"The same, sirs; and your servant."

"Be kind enough, my lord, to state the message you bring from your master, and to leave this house as soon as it is delivered."

To Captain Barker's astonishment, the Earl showed no sign of resenting this speech.

"You are wrong," he answered quietly; "William of Orange is not my master. If I mistake not, you and I, gentlemen, acknowledge but one sovereign ruler, King James."

At these bold words, uttered in the calmest voice, the two captains caught their breath and stared at each other. Captain Runacles was the first to recover. He laughed incredulously.

"Your lordship appears to have forgotten Salisbury."

Any other man would have winced at this taunt. But the Earl of Marlborough met it with the face of a statue.

"Captain Runacles, I have neither forgotten it nor am likely to. The remembrance of that affair has followed me night and day. I cannot—even now that I am pardoned—rid myself of its horror. I cannot eat; I cannot sleep. I see my crime in its true light, and am appalled by its enormity. And yet—God help me!—I thought at the time I was saving my country. Gentlemen, you, who have faced no such responsibility as then confronted me, will be apt to judge me without mercy. I know not if I can persuade you that my remorse is honest. But consider—Here am I at William's right hand, already rich and powerful, and possessing limitless prospects of increased power and riches. Yet am I ready to sacrifice everything, to brave everything, to bring utter ruin on my fortune, if only I can rid myself of this nightmare of shame. Is this the attitude of insincerity?"

"Upon my word, my lord, I'd give something to know why the devil you tell all this to us."

"I hardly know myself," answered the Earl, sighing deeply, but still without a grain of expression on his handsome face. "A man haunted as I am can hardly account for all his utterances. I have come to do you a service, and, having done it, might have withdrawn without a word. But the sight of you recalled the honest words you spoke to the usurper this afternoon. Sirs, I envied you then; and just now an insane longing took hold of me to set myself right with two such inflexible friends of King James."

"Would it not be more to the point if you first obtained pardon from King James himself?"

"I have done so."

"Well, my lord, I cannot yet see what your affairs have to do with us. But if it will give you any pleasure that we should believe these remarkable statements—"

"I have assured you that it will."

"Then perhaps you will produce some proof of them in black and white."

The Earl drew a folded paper from his breast and spread it upon the table before them. It was an affectionate letter of pardon, dated a month back from the Court of Saint Germains, written throughout and signed by the hand of King James himself.

"Thank you, my lord. When his Majesty writes thus, it is not for his subjects to bear rancour. Will you kindly state your immediate business?"

"It concerns the young man Tristram Salt. You desire that he should be restored to you?"

"My lord," said Captain Barker, "that young man is more to me than many sons."

"You are indignant at the recollection of this afternoon?"

"What has that to do with it?"

"Much. But let me continue. Your adopted son, Captain Barker, is at this moment lying in the hold of his Majesty's frigate the Good Intent. He is in irons."

"In irons!"

"Yes, sir. He has undoubtedly imbibed your opinions with regard to the Dutch, for he began his military career by blacking the eyes of a gentleman of that nation, who, as ill-luck will have it, is his superior officer."

"The devil!"

"To-morrow morning he will receive six dozen lashes—perhaps more. I take the most cheerful view in order to spare your feelings; but most decidedly it will be six dozen, unless—"

"Unless—what?"

"Unless I remit the sentence. The young man, you understand, was placed under my care."

"My lord, you will pardon him?"

"With pleasure. Nay, I will restore him to you this very night—"

Captain Barker leapt up from his seat in a transport of gratitude, and would have caught the Earl's hand had not his friend dragged him back by the coat-tails.

"—On conditions," his lordship concluded.

"Name them."

"In a moment. We are agreed, I believe, that to blacken a Dutchman's eyes is no great sin. There are too many Dutchmen around his Majesty—as you, sirs, had the courage to inform his Majesty this afternoon."

"Did we say that?"

"I understood you to hint it, at any rate. I assure you that I am never so much disposed to regret my change of allegiance on that November night at Salisbury as when I look around and see how little my own countrymen have profited by that action."

"A while ago," interposed Captain Runacles sharply, "it was the crime itself that pursued you with remorse."

"The results, sir, have helped me to see the crime in its proper light."

"My lord, I have the deepest respect for your genius; but at the same time it appears to me that you lack something."

"Indeed? It would be a kindness to point out in what respect—"

"Let me call it—a gift. But I interrupt you."

"To proceed, then. We are at one on the question of these Dutchmen; at one also on the question of William's high-handed action this afternoon. Let me propose a plan by which you can effectively mark your disgust of both, while at the same time you recover the young man on whom you set so much store. Gentlemen, you are not past serving your country on the seas."

"King William hinted as much to-day," replied Captain Barker, "and I gave him my answer."

"I appeal to you not in the name of William, but in the name of your true sovereign, King James."

"That is another matter, I'll admit. Would you mind putting the question definitely?"

"I must have your word to regard what I am about to say as a secret."

"If it does not bind us in any way."

"It does not. You are free to accept or reject my offer."

"We promise, then."

"Listen: I am in a position to offer each of you the command of one of his Majesty's ships."

"As a condition of getting back Tristram tonight?"

The Earl nodded.

"But excuse me—"

"Ah, I know what you will say. It is a sacrifice of your leisure. I admit it; but from certain expressions of yours this afternoon I gathered that your love for this lad might overcome your natural disinclination."

"You mistake. I was about to say that this offer of yours strikes us as rather barren. At least it might have been kept until King James is restored to his country. In that event he may very well prefer to give his commands to younger men; but in any event he will find us obedient to his royal wish."

"That is a very loyal attitude. But, as it happens, you would be required to enter into your commands before his Majesty's restoration."

"Explain yourself, my lord."

"I am not in a position to speak with authority or exactness of the events which will shortly take place in the British fleet. I am a mere soldier, you understand. But let us suppose a case. King William sails early to-morrow, with Rear-Admiral Rooke's squadron, for the Maese. Let us suppose that no sooner is his Majesty landed at The Hague and safe in his own beloved realm than our gallant English sailors display a just distaste for their Dutch commanders by setting those commanders ashore, and running—let us say—for Calais, where their true Sovereign waits to be conveyed across to the country which his rival has quitted. Obviously, for this purpose, the fleet would need, on the spot, capable officers to step into the shoes of the deposed Dutchmen."

"You propose that Jack and I shall be two of these officers?" asked Captain Runacles slowly, with a glance at his comrade.

"I think it advisable that you should be at The Hague. You understand that I merely sketch out a possible course of events."

"Of course. Do you think it likely that the British squadron— supposing it to behave as you say—would receive support at Calais?"

"I fancy it might find a large squadron of his French Majesty's fleet waiting there to co-operate."

"And the army?"

"It is possible that events might happen, about that time, among our regiments in Flanders."

"That, in other words, they would desert to King Lewis?"

"You put it crudely, Captain Runacles. I believe that our gallant soldiers will act with a single eye to their country's welfare; and I am sure they will do nothing that can be constructed as a blot upon their country's flag."

"I also am tolerably certain of that, my lord," answered Captain Jemmy drily. "Come, Jack—your answer?"

The little hunchback had been leaning back, during the last minute or two, with his face in the shadow; but at these words he bent forward. His cheeks were white and drawn.

"Why must I give the answer, Jemmy?"

"Because the lad is your son. It rests with you to save him or not."

Captain Barker stood up.

"You'll abide by my decision?"

"Certainly." Captain Runacles crossed his legs and eyed the visitor deliberately.

"Then," said the little man, dragging out the words syllable by syllable, "there, my lord, are your hat and cloak. Oblige me by quitting this house of mine at once."

"God bless you, Jack!" muttered his friend. The Earl's brow did not even flush at the rebuff. Throughout his career this extraordinary man was able to overlook the contempt of others as easily as he disregarded their sufferings. Probably, as Captain Runacles had said, he lacked a gift.

On this occasion he picked up his hat and cloak without a trace of discomposure.

"I understand you to refuse my offer?" he said.

"Yes."

"You prefer that the young man should receive six dozen lashes to-morrow morning."

Captain Barker winced and his mouth contracted painfully.

"My lord, I took that boy from his dead mother when he was a few hours old. Never in his life has a hand been laid upon him in anger. He will hardly understand what it means. But he has been taught to know honour and to cherish it. I choose as he would choose, were he here."

"Are you going, my lord?" added Captain Jemmy. "You have your answer."

"Not quite yet, I fancy. Captain Barker, you told me you took this lad from his dead mother. She was a Mistress Salt, I believe."

"Excuse me if I fail to see—"

"You will see in a moment. I am not wrong, perhaps, in supposing that lady to have been the wife of Roderick Salt, sometime my comrade in the Foot Guards. He married in Harwich, I remember; and in many respects the resemblance which this lad bears to him is remarkable."

"There is no likeness in their characters, my lord."

"I daresay not; indeed, I hope not. But suppose now I inform you that Roderick Salt is still alive—"

The Earl broke off and looked at the two captains narrowly.

"Did you know that?" he asked.

There was no answer.

"I seem to remember an expression which you, Captain Runacles, let fall this afternoon. You told his Majesty that Tristram Salt owned large estates. Is the boy's father aware of this?"

Again he paused for an answer, but none came.

"These estates are administered under trust, I presume. Who are the legal trustees?"

"I am," Captain Jemmy replied, with a sudden effort.

"You alone?"

Captain Jemmy, after struggling for a moment with the wrath in his throat, answered:

"I refuse to say."

"Well, well, the affair seems to need some explanation, but doubtless admits of a very good one. It is none of my business, and I do not ask you to satisfy me. But I cannot help thinking that Roderick Salt will be hardly more astonished to find that his son is a man of large estates than disposed to make inquiries."

"What do you mean, my lord?"

"I mean that, as father and son happen at this moment to lie aboard the same vessel, the Good Intent—"

The chair which Captain Barker had been grasping and tilting impatiently fell to the floor with a crash.

"—I foresee a scene of happy recognition and mutual explanations. We will suppose the father to learn the truth before to-morrow's punishment is inflicted. We will picture his feelings"—the Earl paused, and fired a shot more or less at a venture—"when he becomes aware that, though by law enabled to buy his son off from military service, he has by chicanery been rendered powerless. We will imagine him an enforced spectator, wincing as each stroke draws blood."

"You will do this thing! You will tell him!"

"My dear sirs, I shall hate to do it. In proof that I speak sincerely, let me say that my offer still remains open. May I now count on your accepting it?"

"No!" thundered the little man, springing forward in a fury. Captain Jemmy caught him by the arm, however, and forced him back to the arm-chair. The Earl shrugged his shoulders.

"Truly you are a Roman parent," said he, bowing ironically; "but you will excuse me if I find it time to seek the lad's natural father. Remember, if you please, gentlemen, your promise of silence."

He opened the door and passed quietly through the hall and out of the house. In the road at the foot of the garden a sergeant stepped out of the shadow and saluted him.

The Earl gave a muttered order.

"Where is my horse?" he asked.

"A little up the road, my lord. The orderly is walking him up and down to keep him warm."

The Earl nodded and walked on. A hundred yards farther he came up with them, and, climbing into the saddle, trotted off towards Harwich, the orderly at his heels.

At the Cock and Pye Stairs a boat was waiting. He dismounted and, giving his horse over to the orderly, stepped on board and was rowed swiftly out towards the harbour, where the lights of the squadron flickered and its great hulls brooded over the jet-black water. As the boat crossed under the tilted stern and high, flaming lanterns of Rear-Admiral Rooke's ship, the Foresight, the sentry on deck sang out his challenge.

It was answered. The boat dropped alongside and the Earl climbed upon deck. Turning at the top of the ladder, he gave his boatman the order to wait for half an hour, and acknowledging the sentry's salute, made his way aft, and down the companion-stairs to the cabin set apart for him.

In the passage below was a second sentry, pacing up and down; and by the Earl's door an orderly standing ready.

"Send Captain Salt to me. After that, you may retire."

The man saluted and went off on his errand, and the Earl stepped into his cabin. The furniture of this narrow apartment consisted of a hanging-lamp, a chair or two, a chest heaped with dispatch-boxes and a swing-table upon which a map of the Low Countries was spread amid regimental lists and reports, writing materials, works on fortification, official seals and piles of papers not yet reduced to order. Pushing aside the map and a treatise by the Marechal de Vauban that lay face downwards upon it, the Earl drew a blank sheet of paper towards him, dipped pen in ink, and after a moment's consideration scribbled a sentence. Then, sprinkling it quickly with sand, he folded the paper, and was about to seal it, when a light tap sounded on the cabin-door.

"Come in," said the Earl quietly, holding the sealing-wax to the flame, and without troubling to turn.

The man who stood on the threshold demands a somewhat particular description.

He was tall and of an eminently graceful figure. The uniform which he carried—that of a captain in the 1st or Royal Regiment of Foot— well set off his small waist, deep chest and square shoulders. His complexion was clear and sanguine, albeit no longer retaining the candour of youth; his wig was carefully curled, and in colour a light golden-brown. Though in fact his age was not far short of fifty, he looked hardly a day older than thirty-five.

In many respects his resemblance to Tristram was exceedingly close. The stature and proportions were Tristram's; the nose like Tristram's in shape, but slightly longer; the eyes of the same greyish blue, though in this case deep lines radiated from the outer corners. Above all, there was a fugitive, baffling likeness, that belonged to no particular feature, but to all. On the other hand, the difference in expression between the two faces was hardly less striking: for whereas Tristram's beamed a modest kindliness on his fellows, this face looked out on the world with an unshrinking audacity. Beside it the Earl of Marlborough's handsome countenance seemed to lack intelligence; but the Earl's countenance was then, and remains to-day, an impenetrable mask.

"You sent for me, my lord?" Captain Salt's voice was silvery in tone and pleasant to hear as running water.

"I did," said the Earl, pressing his seal upon the letter and sitting down to direct it. "You have the lists?"

The other drew a bundle of papers from his breastpocket, and advancing, laid them upon the table. The Earl put the letter aside, opened the bundle and ran his eye over its contents.

"You are sure of all these men?"

"Quite."

"You seem to have enough. We mustn't overdo this, you understand? It wouldn't do for the affair to—succeed."

Captain Salt smiled.

"If they carry off a vessel or two," the Earl went on, "it's no great loss, and it will give Saint Germains the agreeable notion that something is about to happen. They've been plaguing me again. This time it's an urgent letter in my royal master's own hand. He calls on me to bring over the whole army in the very first action—the born fool! Can he really believe I love him so dearly? Has he really persuaded himself that I've forgotten—?"

He checked himself; but for the first time that evening his face was suffused with a hot flush. For, in fact, he was thinking of his sister, Arabella Churchill; and John Churchill, though he had made no scruple to profit by his sister's shame, had never forgiven it.

Captain Salt filled up the pause in his dulcet voice: "We want, my lord, such a mutiny as, without succeeding, shall convince England of the strong dissatisfaction felt by our forces at the favouritism shown by his Majesty towards the Dutch."

"Salt," said his lordship, eyeing him narrowly, "you are remarkably intelligent."

"Why, my lord, should I conceal my thoughts when they tally with my honest hopes? I look around, and what do I see? Dutchmen filling every lucrative post; Dutchmen crowding the House of Lords; Dutchmen commanding our armies; Dutchmen pocketing our fattest revenues. England is weary of it. I, as an Englishman, am weary of it. My lord, if I dared to say it—"

"Would you mind looking out and observing if the sentry is at his post?"

Captain Salt stepped to the door and opened it. The sentry was at the far end of the passage, engaged in his steady tramp to and fro.

"My lord," he said, closing the door softly and returning, "let this mutiny fail! It will serve its purpose if it brings home to the understanding of Englishmen the iniquity of this plague of Dutchmen. Let that feeling ripen. You will return before the winter, and by that time you may strike boldly. Then, from your place in the House of Lords, you can move an address—"

"Go on," murmured the Earl, as he paused for a moment.

"—An address praying that all foreigners may be dismissed from his Majesty's service."

The Earl looked up swiftly and checked his fingers, which had been drumming on the table.

"Decidedly you are intelligent," he said very slowly.

"What can William do if that address is carried, as it may be? To yield will be to discard his dearest friends: to resist will mean a national rising. He will lose his crown."

"And then?"

"My lord, may it not be possible to eject William without restoring James?"

"Ah!"

"There is the Princess Anne."

The Earl looked into his companion's eyes and read his own thoughts there. James was a Papist, William a Dutchman; but the Princess Anne was an Englishwoman and a Protestant. And the Earl and his Countess held the Princess Anne under their thumbs. Let her succeed to the throne, and he would be, to all intents, King of England. Nay, he would hold the balance of Europe in his palm.

"My friend," he said, under his breath, "you are too dangerous." Aloud he gave the talk a new turn.

"This mutiny will not succeed," he observed reflectively. "The men who intend to rise must be informed against."

"It appears so."

"But not too soon. They must not succeed, as I said; but they must have time enough to show their countrymen that the discontent is serious, and to convince James that only an accident has prevented their coming over to him in a body."

"That is clear enough."

"The only question," the Earl pursued, "is—who is to give the information at the proper moment?"

"Undoubtedly that is a difficulty."

"I thought—excuse me if I come to the point—I thought that you might do so."

"My lord!"

"You object?"

"Decidedly I do. Already I have risked too much in this business."

"I can think of nobody," said the Earl coldly, "so well suited for the task. William thinks you are his spy, and would receive your information without suspicion. He does not guess that, owing to my knowledge of your past—of the affair of the dice at Antwerp, for instance, or that trivial letter from Saint Germains which I happen to possess—"

Captain Salt's sanguine cheeks were by this time white as death.

"If you insist—" he stammered in a hoarse voice that bore no resemblance to his natural tone.

"I'm afraid I must. At the same time I mean to reward you," the Earl continued pleasantly; "and a portion of the reward shall be paid in advance. My dear captain, I have the most delightful surprise for you. You were once a married man, and the lady you married was a native of this port."

"Thank you, my lord; I was aware of the fact."

"You left her."

"I did."

"And in your absence she bore you a son."

"I have since heard a rumour to that effect," said Captain Salt coldly.

"Cherish that son, for his worth to you is inestimable. He lies, at this moment, on board the Good Intent—I regret to say in irons. His Majesty enlisted him this afternoon, somewhat against his will, and he began very unluckily by kicking his superior officer from one end of the frigate to the other. It was the natural ebullition of youth, and the sergeant was a Dutchman. Therefore in this letter I have pardoned him. Take it—a boat is waiting for you—and convey it to his captain. Thereafter seek the poor lad out and imprint the parental kiss upon both cheeks. Reveal yourself to him!"

"Your lordship is excessively kind, but I stand in no immediate need of filial love."

"My dear sir, I promise you that this son means thousands in your pocket. He means to you a calm old age, surrounded by luxuries which are hardly to be gained by espionage, however zealously practised."

"In what way, may I inquire?"

"I will inform you when you have done the small service I asked just now."

Captain Salt took the letter and moved towards the door.

"By the way," the Earl said, "it may be painful to you to be reminded of your former connection with Harwich; but did you happen to know, in those days, two gentlemen, captains in King Charles's Navy, and natives, I believe, of this town—Barker and Runacles?"

"I did. They were both, at one time, suitors for the hand of my late wife."

"Indeed? I have been trying to enlist them for this business of the mutiny."

"They were a simple pair, I remember, and would serve our purpose admirably."

"I found them a trifle too simple. Well, I won't keep you just now. Remember the help I expect from you; but we will talk that over in a day or two. Meanwhile, keep a parent's eye upon your son (he's called Tristram), for through him your reward will be attained. Good night."



CHAPTER VII.

THE CAPTAINS MAKE A FALSE START.

It was past midnight when Captain Runacles left his friend's pavilion and let himself through the little blue door to his own garden. The heavens were clear and starry, and he paused for a moment on the grass-plot, his hands clasped behind him, his head tilted back and his eyes fixed on the Great Bear that hung directly overhead.

"Poor Jack!" he muttered, shaking his head at the constellation, as if gently accusing Fate. His nature had been considerably softened by the little man's distress, and he had come away with a generous trouble in his heart.

"I shan't sleep a wink to-night," he decided; and went on inconsequently, "After all, a girl is less anxiety than a boy. People don't find it worth their while to kidnap a girl and flog her with a cat-o'-nine-tails. A turn of a die, and I'd have been in Jack's shoes to-night; while, as it is—"

As it was, however, he seemed hardly to enjoy his good fortune, for he added, still looking up:

"Plague seize it! I shan't sleep a wink—I know I shan't. What a magnificent show of stars! Let me see, how long is it before daybreak? One-two-three-five hours only. I won't go to bed at all— I'll have a turn at the telescope."

He stole into the house softly and climbed up the spiral staircase. A faint light shone out on the first landing from the half-open door of his workroom. He entered and turned up the lamp.

Its light revealed a scene of amazing disorder. The walls were covered with books and charts; the floor was littered with manuscripts, mathematical instruments, huge folios, piled higgledy-piggledy, carpenter's tools, retorts, bottles of chemicals. In one corner, beside a door leading to his bedroom, stood a turning-lathe three inches deep in sawdust and shavings; in another, a human skeleton hung against the wall, its feet concealed by the model of a pumping-engine. Hard by was nailed a rack containing a couple of antique swords, a walking-cane and a large telescope.

Captain Runacles took down this telescope and tucked it under his arm. Then, unhitching a dressing-gown of faded purple from a peg behind the door, he turned the lamp low again and stepped out upon the landing. Here he paused for a minute and listened. The house was still. From the floor below ascended the sound of breathing, regular and stertorous, which proved that Simeon was asleep.

He put his hand on the stair-rail and ascended to the next floor, passing his daughter's room on tiptoe. Above this, a flight of steps that was little more than a ladder led up into the obscurity of the attics. He climbed these steps, and, entering a lumber-room, where he had to duck his head to avoid striking the sloping roof, felt his way to a shuttered window, with the bolt of which he fumbled for a moment. When at length he drew the shutter open, a whiff of cold air streamed into the room and a parallelogram of purple sky was visible, studded with stars and crossed by the bars of a little balcony.

Captain Runacles stepped out upon this balcony. He had constructed it two years before, and it ran completely round the roof. Under his feet he heard the pigeons murmuring in their cote. Below were spread the dim grass-plots and flower-beds of the two gardens; and, far upon his right, the misty leagues of the North Sea. Full in front of him, over Harwich town, hung the dainty constellation of Cassiopeia's chair, and all around the vast army of heaven moved, silent and radiant. One seemed to hear its breathing up there, across the deep calm of the firmament.

He turned to the western horizon, to the spot where the Pleiades had just set for the summer months, and lifting his glass moved it slowly up towards Capella and the Kids, thence on to Perseus, and that most gorgeous tract of the Milky Way which lies thereby. Now, in the sword-handle of Perseus, as it is called, are set two clusters of gems, by trying to count which the Captain had, before now, amused himself for hours together. He was about to make another attempt, and in fact had reached fifty-six, when he felt a light touch on his elbow.

He faced quickly round. Behind him, on the balcony, stood his daughter.

"Don't be angry," she entreated in a whisper. "I heard you come up. I couldn't sleep until I saw you."

He looked at her sternly. Her feet were bare, and she wore but a dark cloak over her night-rail. In the years since we last saw her she had grown from an awkward girl into a lovely woman. Thick waves of dark hair, disarranged with much tossing on her pillow, fell upon her shoulders and straggled over the lace upon her bosom. The face they framed was pale in the starlight, but the lips were red, and the black eyes feverishly bright.

"Father," she went on, "I have something I must tell you."

Then, as he continued to regard her with displeasure, she broke off, and put the question that of all her trouble was uppermost.

"What has become of Tristram?"

"He has gone to make the campaign against the French. He was enlisted to-day. It was—unexpected," her father answered slowly, with his eyes fixed on hers.

"He went unwillingly," she said, speaking in a quick whisper; "he was dragged off—trepanned! Simeon told me about it, and besides, I know—"

"What do you know?"

"I know he never went willingly. Oh, father, listen"—with a swift and pretty impulse she stepped forward, and reaching up her clasped hands laid them on his shoulder—"Tristram—Tristram is very fond of me."

"Good Lord!"

Captain Jemmy raised a hand to disengage her grasp from his shoulder, but let it fall again.

"He told me so this morning at sunrise," she went on rapidly. "You see, it was May morning, and I went out to gather the dew, and he was there, in the garden already, and he said—well, he said what I told you; and being so masterful—"

"I can't say I've observed that quality in the young man; but no doubt you've had better opportunities of judging."

"You shan't talk like that!" she broke out almost fiercely. It was curious that this girl, who until this moment had always trembled before her father, now began to dominate him by force of her passion.

"Oh, I mustn't, eh? Devil take the fellow! He tumbles out of one mess into another, and plays skittles with my peace of mind, and in return I'm not allowed a word!"

"Father, you will fetch him back?"

"Now, how the—"

"But you must."

"Indeed!"

"Because I love him dearly—there! I have nobody left but you, father." She knelt and caught his hand, exchanging audacity for entreaty in a second.

"Little maid," said her father, with a tenderness as sudden, "get up—your feet must be as cold as ice, on these slates. Go in, and go to bed."

"Let me stay a little. I can't sleep indoors. It was so happy this morning, and to-night the trouble is so heavy!"

Captain Jemmy vanished into the lumber-room for a moment, and reappeared, tugging an old mattress after him and bearing a tattered window-curtain under his left arm. He spread the mattress on the balcony, motioned his daughter to sit, and wrapped her feet warmly in his purple dressing-gown. Then, as she lay back, he spread the curtain over her, tucking it close round her young body. She thanked him with dim eyes.

"Sophia," he began, with much severity, "you say you have only your old father in the world, and I'm bound to say you seem to find it little enough. My dear, are you aware that you've just been disappointing my dearest hopes?"

"Don't say that!"

"I begin to think I mustn't say anything. I have brought you up carefully, instructing you in all polite learning, and even in some of the abstruser sciences. I have meant you, all along, to be the ornament of your sex, and now—the devil take it!—you prefer, after all, to be an ornament of the other! I intended you, by your accomplishments, to make that young man look foolish."

"And I assure you, father dear, he did look foolish this morning, and again this afternoon in the summer-house."

"Now, upon my soul, Sophia! I call your attention to the fact I've been suspecting ever since you began to speak, that you're at the bottom of all to-day's mischief. If that unfortunate youth hadn't been making love to you when he should have been attending to the bees, the chances are they would never have taken it into their heads to swarm upon that accursed arch, and consequently . . ."

There was nothing which Captain Runacles enjoyed so thoroughly as to discover the connection between effects and their causes. When such a chance offered, it was a common experience with him to be drawn into prolixity. But he was pained and surprised, nevertheless, after twenty minutes' discourse (in which he proved Sophia, and Sophia alone, to be responsible for the disasters of the day), to find that she had dropped asleep. He looked down for a minute or so upon her closed lids, then moved to the rail of the balcony and ejaculated under his breath:

"O woman—woman! Wise art thou as the dove, and about as harmless as the serpent!"

He considered the heavens for some moments, and added with some tartness but with a far-off look at the stars, as though aiming the remark at the late Mrs. Runacles:

"Her charm, at any rate, is not derived from her mother!"

He turned abruptly and considered her as she slept under the stars. Stooping after a minute or two, and lifting her very gently, he bore her into the house and down to her own room. As they descended the ladder from the attic, she stirred and opened her eyes drowsily:

"You will bring Tristram back?" she murmured, but so softly that he had to bend his head to catch the syllables.

Her eyes closed again before he could answer. He carried her to her bed and laid her upon it; then, after waiting a while to assure himself that she was fast asleep, retraced his steps softly to the little balcony.

He was pacing it, round and round, like a caged beast, when the stars grew faint and the silver ripple of the dayspring broke over the sea. For two hours and more he had been thinking hard, and he rested his elbows on the balcony and paused for a minute or two to watch the red ball of the sun as it heaved above the waters. To the north, beyond the roofs of Harwich, he saw the lights of the royal squadron still clear in the grey dawn. Next his gaze turned to the triumphal arch in the road below, which wore a peculiarly dissipated look at this hour. Then it strayed back to the garden below him and beyond the party hedge; and was suddenly arrested.

On a rustic seat, in the far corner, sat Captain Barker, trying to read in a book.

The little man, too, had obviously passed the night out of his bed. His clothes were dishevelled and his attitude was one of extreme dejection. He kept his head bowed over the book and was wholly unaware of the eyes that watched him from the opposite pavilion.

But his friend above on the balcony displayed the most nervous apprehension of being seen. He took his hand from the rail, as if fearful of making the slightest sound, and stole back through the window into the lumber-room. Once within the house, however, he behaved with the briskest determination. Descending first of all to his own room, he washed his face and towelled it till it glowed. Then, changing his coat and wig, he took up hat and cane, descended to the front-door, and crossing the grass-plot, let himself into Captain Barker's garden.

Captain Barker still sat and read in his book; and as he read the tears coursed down his wrinkled cheeks. For it was the first of the famous green volumes.

He looked up as his friend advanced; and Captain Jemmy was forced to regard the weathercock on the roof for a minute or so to make sure of the quarter in which the wind lay.

"It's due west," said Captain John, as he stared up; "and it's ebb-tide till nine o'clock. They'll sail early."

"H'm; I shouldn't wonder. You're early out of bed."

"Well, for the matter of that, so are you—eh?"

"I haven't been to bed."

"Nor have I."

"I've been thinking," said Captain Runacles.

"And I've been trying not to think."

"Well, but I've come to a conclusion. Go and get your hat, Jack."

"Why?"

"We've got to fetch Tristram back."

"How?"

"By tossing our consciences over the hedge and going to see King William."

The little man shook his head.

"No, Jemmy. You mean it kindly, and God bless you! But I can't do it."

"Why not? If I can do it—"

"You'd repent it, Jemmy. You're letting your love for me carry you too far."

"What put it into your head that I'd do this for love of you?"

"For Tristram, then."

"Damn Tristram! That youngster strikes me as causing a fuss quite out of proportion to his intrinsic worth."

"Well, but—"

"My dear Jack, I have reasons for wishing Tristram back. You needn't ask what they are, because I shan't tell you; but they're at least as intelligible as all the reasons you can find in that volume." He caught it out of his friend's hand, and read: "June 12th.—T. to-day refused his biscuit and milk at six in the morning, but took it an hour later. Peevish all night; in part (I think) because not yet recovered of his weaning, and also because his teeth (second pair on lower jaw) are troubling him. Query: If the biscuit should be boiled in the milk, or milk merely poured over the biscuit—" Here he glanced up, and seeing the anguish on the hunchback's face, handed back the book.

"I beg your pardon, Jack. But get your hat and come along."

"You forget, Jemmy. We gave our word, you know."

Captain Runacles stared.

"Trouble has unhinged your wits, my friend. Did you seriously imagine I intended to disclose to his Majesty the proposal we heard last night?"

"What, then?"

"My notion was that we should go and offer him our swords and our services in ransom for Tristram. He may rebuff us. On the other hand, there's a chance that he will not. You remember that he began, yesterday, by offering you this way of escape. You are to take me with you and beg for a renewal of that offer. Maybe he'll demur. You'll then point out that you have two men's service to tender him in lieu of one. I have smelt powder in my time, Jack, and I once had the luck to run De Ruyter's pet captain through the sword-arm and to carry his ship. It's the very devil that I never could master the fellow's Dutch name sufficiently to remember it; but his Majesty—who has a greater grasp of his mother tongue—may be able to recall it, and the recollection may turn the scale. Anyhow, we'll try."

"You can serve this William?"

"I can; for the matter stands thus: We go and say, 'Your Majesty has laid hands on a young man. Will it please your Majesty to take two old men in exchange?' We're a couple of old hulks, Jack; but we may serve, as well as a youngster, to be battered by the French."

"But suppose that this plot breaks out?—I mean that which the Earl hinted at."

"My friend, that proposal may be divided into two parts. The first is mutiny; the second is desertion to the French. How do you like them? Could you stand by and help either?"

"Why, no," answered Captain Barker, with a brightening face; "because, after all, one could always die first."

"To be sure. Make haste, then, and fetch your hat, or we shall be too late to save the boy."

Captain Runacles waited at the foot of the garden, while his friend hurried into the house and returned in something like glee.

"We are lucky. Narcissus tells me his Majesty is sleeping ashore at Thomas Langley's house in Church Street. It seems that his cabin was not put rightly in order aboard the Mary yacht, and he won't embark until he has broken his fast."

"Come along, then!" said Captain Jemmy, opening the gate. "We may catch him before he goes on board."

But scarcely had the pair set foot in the road outside when a voice commanded them to halt.

In front of them, barring the highway towards Harwich, stood a sergeant, with half a dozen soldiers at his back. They seemed to have sprung out of the hedge.

"Pardon, gentlemen; but you are walking towards Harwich."

"We are."

"My orders are to forbid it."

"Who gave you that order?"

"The General."

"What? The Earl of Marlborough?"

"Yes."

"So this is how he trusts our word!" muttered Captain Runacles. "But, excuse me," he added aloud, "our business is with his Majesty."

"I am truly sorry, gentlemen."

"You decline to let us pass?"

"I hope you will not insist."

"Well, but I have an idea. You can march us into Harwich as your prisoners. Take us into his Majesty's presence—that's all I ask, and I don't care how it's done. You shall have our parole if you please."

The sergeant shook his head. "It's against my orders."

"Then we must try to pass you."

"Suffer me to point out that we are seven to two."

"Thank you. But this is an affair of conscience."

"Nevertheless—"

"Confound it, sir!" broke in the little hunchback. "You are here, it seems, to frustrate our intentions; but I'm hanged if you shall criticise them too. Guard, sirs, if you please!"

And whipping out their swords, these indomitable old gentlemen fell with fury on their seven adversaries and engaged them.

The struggle, however, lasted but a minute. Six bayonets are not to be charged with a couple of small-swords; and just as Captain Barker was on the point of spitting himself like an over-hasty game chicken, the sergeant raised his side-arm and dealt him a cut over the head. Hat and wig broke the blow somewhat; but the little man dropped with a moan and lay quite still in the road.

Hearing the sound, Captain Jemmy turned, dropped his sword, and ran to lift his friend. The stroke had stunned him, and a trickle of blood ran from a slight scalp-wound and mingled with the dust.

"Jack, Jack!" sobbed his friend, kneeling and peering eagerly into his face. The hunchback opened his eyes a little and stared up vacantly.

As he did so the dull roar of heavy guns broke out in the direction of Harwich, shaking the earth under Captain Jemmy's feet. It was the town's parting salute to his Majesty King William the Third. And at the same moment the leading ship of the royal squadron swung out of harbour on the ebb-tide and, rounding the Guard Sandbank, stood majestically towards the open sea, her colours streaming and white canvas bellying over the blue waters.



CHAPTER VIII.

FATHER AND SON.

Tristram, meanwhile, was lying in darkness on board the Good Intent, a frigate of twenty-six guns, converted for the nonce into a transport-ship to accommodate three companies of his Majesty's Second Household Regiment, the Coldstreams. To this regiment the Earl had thought fit to attach him at first, not only on account of his fine inches, but also to keep him out of his father's way, being unwilling that the two should meet until he had visited the Blue Pavilions and endeavoured to bring Captain Barker and Captain Runacles to terms.

It cannot be said that his first acquaintance with military life had lifted Tristram's spirits. The frigate—to which he had been conveyed without further resistance—struck him as smelling extremely ill below decks; and he was somewhat dashed by the small amount of room at his service. Moreover, the new suit into which he was promptly clapped, though brilliant in colour, had been made for a smaller man, and obstructed his breathing, which would have been difficult enough in any case. On the gun-deck, where he found himself, it was impossible to stand upright and equally impossible to lie at length, every foot of room between the tiers of nine-pounders being occupied by kits, knapsacks, chests and mattresses littered about in all conceivable disorder, and the intervals between these bridged by the legs of his brothers-in-arms. As the Coldstreams were an exceedingly well-grown regiment, and for the most part deeply absorbed just then in dicing, quarrelling, chuck-penny and lively discussions on the forthcoming campaign, Tristram had found the utmost difficulty in avoiding the sheaves of legs between him and the empty mattress assigned for his use. In his dejection of spirits it was a comfort to find that none of his future comrades turned a head to observe him. He cast himself down on the mattress and gave vent to a profound sigh.

"Alas, Sophia!" he ingeminated, "how liable to misconception—though doubtless wise on the whole—are the rulings of Providence, which in one short hour has torn me from your soft embrace to follow a calling which I foresee I shall detest!"

Unluckily this emotion, though warranted by his circumstances, proved too great for the ready-made suit which he wore. At the first sigh two buttons burst from his jacket, one of which flew a full twelve inches and gently struck the cheek of a Dutch sergeant who was taking forty winks upon the adjacent mattress.

"Vat the devil for?" exclaimed Sergeant Klomp, opening his eyes and glaring upon the recruit.

"I beg your pardon," said Tristram.

"Zat was in fon, hey?"

"On the contrary—"

"Vat for, if not?"

"It was accidental, I assure you. I was unbosoming myself—"

"So; I will deach you to onbosom yourself of his Majesty's buttons. Agsidental! You shall not be agsidental to me!" Sergeant Klomp rolled his eyes, and, picking up his cane, which lay beside him, rose to his feet and advanced with menace on his face.

Tristram hastily applied his syllogism. "It is right," he said to himself, "to resist when molested in a peaceful occupation. Sighing is a peaceful occupation. Therefore I must resist this man." In obedience to this valid conclusion he hit Sergeant Klomp in the stomach as he advanced, caught the cane out of his hand and belaboured him the entire length of the gun-deck. It was impossible to do this without discommoding the legs of the company and annoying them beyond measure. And consequently, at the end of ten minutes, Tristram found himself in irons in the lazarette, condemned to pass the night with two drunken men, whose snores were almost comforting in the pitchy darkness; for, as he told himself, human propinquity, if not exactly sympathy, is the first step towards it. He had been listening to this snoring for four hours, when a hatchway above him was lifted, and a lantern shone down into the lazarette. It was carried by a corporal, who came cautiously down the ladder, lighting the footsteps of an officer who followed and held a handkerchief to his nose, for the smell of the bilge was overpowering.

"Pah!" exclaimed this officer, as he arrived at the ladder's foot, and peered around. "Set the light down on the floor and leave us. What a hole!"

He waited whilst the corporal re-ascended the ladder and disappeared; then, picking up the lantern, held it aloft and let its rays shine full on Tristram's face.

"Ah," he said, after regarding our hero in silence for a few seconds, "it is unmistakable!" And with that he sighed heavily.

"Pardon me, sir," said Tristram, "but the sight of me appears to cause you sorrow."

"On the contrary, it fills me with joy."

"I am glad to hear you say so, because, as I am fastened here in these irons, it would have been out of my power to relieve you of my presence. Since you are glad, however—"

"Unspeakably."

"—You would do me a great favour by saying why."

"Because—look at me, dear lad—because you are my only son!"

"In that I really think you must be mistaken. There are two gentlemen yonder in the corner who at present are asleep. Are you quite sure one of these is not the object of your search?"

"Quite sure, my dear lad. It is unmistakable, as I said. You are Tristram?"

"I am; though I don't see why it should be unmistakable."

"Those eyes—that voice! It is impossible you should not be Margaret's son!"

"My mother's name was Margaret," Tristram answered; "that's true enough. She died when I was born."

"Tristram," said his visitor, lowering the lantern and bowing his head, "I was her unworthy husband, and am your father, Roderick Salt."

"That would certainly be plausible, but for one difficulty."

"What is it?"

"My father was drowned some months before I was born."

"You are mistaken. He was partially drowned, but not quite."

"I admit that alters the case."

"Shall I tell you how it happened?"

"By all means, sir; for I think the story must be interesting. At the same time I ought to warn you that I already possess a father, on whom you can scarcely improve."

"To whom do you refer?"

"He is called Captain Barker by those who love him less than I."

"Is it he, then, that has brought you up? Curse him!"

Tristram opened his eyes. "Why should you curse him?" he asked.

"Because he has stolen your love from me."

"But—excuse me—it is only this moment that I have heard you were competing for it."

"He has told you evil concerning me."

"On the contrary, he has never uttered your name. It was my nurse who told me one day that you were drowned; and even this turns out to be a mistake, as you were about to prove."

"My son, your words and bearing cut me to the heart. It is no less than I have deserved, perhaps; though, could you know all, I am sure you would judge me leniently. But at least I can give you some small proof of my love. Let me first release you from those irons."

He set the lantern on the floor, drew a small key from his pocket and unlocked his son's fetters.

"Thank you. That is decidedly more agreeable," said Tristram, stretching his stiffened limbs.

"You were suffering before I came?"

"Why, truly," Tristram replied, shrugging his shoulders as he glanced around; "I find military life duller than I expected. And since this is the first night I have spent from home—"

"My poor boy! Doubtless, too, you were brooding on what would happen to-morrow morning."

"Say rather on what happened this morning," corrected Tristram, his thoughts reverting to Sophia.

"But surely the prospect of to-morrow's punishment—"

"Oh, will there be a punishment to-morrow?"

"Why, you kicked a sergeant from one end of his Majesty's ship to the other! Did you imagine you could do that with impunity?"

"I assure you he deserved it."

"Nevertheless, you would have been flogged on deck to-morrow had I not come with a pardon."

"You astonish me: and really you have been very kind to me. Still, it would have been quite unjust."

Captain Salt regarded his son quietly for a moment or two. In truth he was somewhat staggered by this simplicity.

"You wish to escape from this service?" he asked.

"I dislike it more and more. Besides—"

"Tell me your desires; for, believe me, my son, I have no dearer wish than to further them."

Tristram held out a hand and took his father's.

"Forgive me, sir, for my coldness just now. Remember that I had never seen, had scarcely heard of, you before. You are very good to me. I believe, by looking in your eyes, that you love me; and I believe—I know—that in time I should love you greatly in return. But you must pardon that which I am going to say. Sir, I cannot help loving best those who have dealt lovingly with me all my life. I was homesick—" he broke off, as a lump rose in this throat.

"You shall go home," said Captain Salt.

Still holding his hand, Tristram stared at him incredulously.

"Why should you doubt me, my son? Do you think I despise those feelings, or can neglect them? No; I honour them, though bitterly regretting that, as fate has willed it, they can never be entertained for me."

"Don't say that, my father."

"Why should I blink the truth?" Captain Salt turned and brushed away a fictitious tear. "No, Tristram; you shall go back to those you love better. I only ask you to be patient for a few days; for, indeed, I have but a certain amount of influence with those who enlisted you to-day against your will. Listen. Early to-morrow the squadron sets sail. If the wind holds we shall be within the Maese by Sunday morning. As soon as your regiment disembarks you shall be a free man: for not till then shall I have an opportunity of speaking with his Majesty. The squadron will be returning at once to this port, and I trust you may return with it. In the meantime you must give me your word to remain where you are; for though the punishment is remitted, you are still under arrest. I have seen your captain, however, and you will find matters made very light for you. The sentry will bring you food and drink."

He stopped, for Tristram had fallen on one knee and was passionately kissing his hand.

"How ill you must think of me!" he murmured; "and how can I thank you?"

"By keeping one tender thought or two for a father who held aloof from you, while it was for your good, and came to you when, for the first time, you wanted him. Mine has been a hard life, Tristram, and not altogether a good one. By asking you to share it, I had done you Heaven knows what injury."

This was true enough, and it struck the speaker as so pathetic that he managed even to squeeze up a tear.

"But come," he went on, with a sudden change to vivacity, "tell me how you happened into this scrape?"

And so, with the lantern between them casting long spokes of light on the ship's timbers, the rafters and the two drunken sleepers in the corner, father and son sat and talked for the better part of an hour; at the end of which time Captain Salt, who dexterously managed to do nine-tenths of the listening, was pretty well posted in the affairs of the Blue Pavilions and their inmates, and knew almost as much of Tristram's past history as if he had spent a day with the thirty-seven green volumes. It was past two in the morning when he arose to return to his own ship.

At parting he kissed Tristram on both cheeks. "Farewell, dear lad!" he said, with a manner that was admirably paternal. "We shall not meet again till the ships cast anchor in the Maese. Meanwhile steel your heart and look forward to a better fortune."

He picked up the lantern and, climbing the ladder, nodded back reassuringly as he lifted the hatch. At the same time he was secretly a good deal perplexed; for in all that he had learnt there was nothing to throw light on the Earl's words. "Now, why the devil is the lad to be looked after?" he wondered. For in fact Tristram had said nothing of the inheritance. And the reason for this was the very simple one that he himself knew nothing about it, Captain Barker and Captain Runacles having long ago agreed to keep it a secret from him until he should come of age. They had arrived at this resolution after many weeks of discussion, and beyond a doubt their wisdom had been justified in the course of the last hour.

There was no perplexity visible, however, in the kindly smile which Tristram beheld and returned with interest. A moment after he was left in blank darkness. But, being by this time tired out, as well as greatly comforted, he curled himself up on the bare floor, and within five minutes had dropped off into a dreamless sleep.

It was morning when he awoke, though he could not tell the hour; for the only light that reached his prison was filtered through the hatch above, which somebody had kindly tilted open. The sounds that woke him were those of feet moving to and fro in the captain's cabin overhead, and, far forward in the ship, the clatter of boots as the soldiers turned out. He looked about him and made two discoveries. In the first place, his two drunken companions had vanished, or had been removed; and secondly, their place was taken by a loaf and a tin pannikin.

He reached out a hand for these, and began without hesitation the first meal in his life of which the green volumes were to keep no record. With less hunger he might have found it nauseous; for the bread was incredibly mouldy and had been gnawed all round the crust by rats, while the liquor in the pannikin was a mixture of fiery rum and unclean water. The first gulp fetched the tears; but, after sputtering a bit, he managed to swallow a good half of it. As he breakfasted he heard a deal of muffled shouting above, and then a distant clanking sound that was unfamiliar. The Good Intent was weighing anchor.

These noises, however, did not trouble Tristram, who was minded by this time to bear his fortune with hardihood. Only the thought of Sophia vexed him while he ate, and he sighed once or twice with a violence that set the rats scampering. Then it struck him that his morning prayers were unsaid, and, scrambling on his knees, he committed himself to the care of Heaven, and afterwards felt still easier at heart. Also, being a prudent youth in some respects, he decided to reserve half of the loaf in case no more should be brought for the day; and, because his hunger was excessive, it took some time to decide on the amount to be set aside. Indeed, he was still discussing this with himself when the Good Intent shook with the roar of the royal salute.

For the moment Tristram imagined that he must be in the midst of a sea-fight at the very leat. But his apprehensions were presently distracted by the motions of the ship under him—motions which at length became erratic and even alarming. For the Good Intent was not only heaving up and down, but seemed to be tearing forward in a series of vehement rushes, with intervals of languid indecision. Tristram's stomach soon began to abhor these intervals, and in a little while he found himself wondering to what end he had set aside half a loaf from his breakfast. For, as it seemed to him, he was going to die, and the sooner the better.

"Decidedly," he thought, "my breakfast was poisoned, else I could never feel like this."

The Good Intent took another lurch forward, and a clammy sweat broke out on both sides of his forehead.

"If I have enemies so wicked," sighed he, "may God forgive them!" And, uttering this Christian wish, he fell forward with his forehead against the boards.

A little past noon the sentry brought him a fresh loaf, with a plate of fat bacon and another pannikin. The sea being choppy, by this time the vessel echoed from end to end with groans and lamentations.

"Is it a massacre?" Tristram asked, sitting up and regarding the man with wild eyes. But the sight of the bacon, which was plentifully doused with vinegar, conquered him afresh. The sentry chuckled and went away.

To be short, our hero passed two-and-twenty hours in this extremity of wretchedness, and was only aroused, early next morning, by a corporal who thrust his head in at the hatchway and bade him arise and come on deck with all speed, as the regiment was about to disembark. And, as a matter of fact, when Tristram tottered up the ladder into the fresh air which swept the deck, he found that, though he had been beyond remarking any difference in the ship's motion, she was now lying at anchor, and within a cable's length from a desolate shore, which began in sandhills and ended in mist.

The rain was pouring perpendicularly from a leaden sky and drenching the decks. The soldiers, in their great-coats, huddled together as they waited for the boats, and shrugged their shoulders to keep the drops from trickling down the napes of their necks. Somebody gave Tristram a great-coat and knapsack, and pointed out the group to which he was to attach himself. He obeyed, though scarcely aware of what he did: for his head was light, his hunger was ravenous, and his legs were trembling beneath him. A soldier cursed close by, and he cursed too, echoing the man's words without knowing why. Another man slapped him on the back, mistaking him for a crony, and begged his pardon. "It really makes no difference," said Tristram politely, and at once fell to wondering if this remark were absurd or no. Beyond the grey veils of rain he spied, now and then, a cluster of red roofs and a steeple close beside the shore.

"What place is that yonder?" he asked the man who stood at his elbow.

"Vlaardingen," said the fellow gruffly. It was Sergeant Klomp, and Tristram turned it over in his mind whether to offer an apology or no. While he was still debating, a brisk young officer came along and called out:

"Get ready, boys. This is our turn."

In less than a minute after, for no apparent reason, the crowd around Tristram surged forward to the bulwarks, and he was carried along with the rush. Then he found himself swaying unsteadily down a flight of steps and calling to the men behind not to hustle and precipitate him into one or other of the two longboats that lay below. Into the nearer of these his company swept him, and poured in at his heels until the gunwale was nearly level with the water. The rowers pushed off in the nick of time, and pulled their freight slowly across the sullen tide, while the rain beat down relentlessly.

As they neared the shore, a landing-stage, or low jetty, of sunk piles disengaged itself from the mist. This was the sole object that diversified the melancholy line of sandbanks, and towards it they were steered, Tristram looking eagerly out under the peak of his cap, from which a rivulet of water was by this time coursing down his nose.

Half a dozen grey figures were standing on the jetty, and, as the soldiers scrambled up its dripping steps, one of them advanced and touched Tristram by the elbow. It was his father.

"Safe and sound, my boy? Parbleu! but it's easy to see you're no accomplished sailor; but that's all the better."

Tristram was feeling too faint to contest this, though it appeared to him to be disputable.

"Let us get ahead of this mob," his father went on. "Come, use your best foot—it's no great distance."

He struck off the sodden track and dived into the mist, Tristram following close at his heels. Their way lay over hillocks and hollows of sand in which they sank ankle-deep at every step. In two minutes they lost sight of the regiment, and were walking with their faces set, as it seemed, towards a wall of grey atmosphere, impenetrable by the eye. After five minutes of this Tristram groaned. He had eaten nothing for twenty-four hours, and his limbs were weak as water.

"Courage, my son! A few paces more."

Almost as he spoke a building loomed out of the mist, and they found themselves before a doorway, over which hung the sign of "The Four Seasons." A sentry, who stood beside the entrance, presented arms and let them pass. Captain Salt led the way indoors and up a rickety staircase to the right, on the first landing of which they found two pages in waiting.

"Say that Captain Salt desires to see his Majesty."

One of the pages tapped at the door, and, having delivered the message, commanded them to enter. The place in which Tristram now found himself was a low-browed room, smelling highly of sawdust and stale tobacco. It was bisected by a long table of clean white deal, at the end of which were seated three gentlemen whose attire bespoke a considerable estate. All three looked up as the pair entered, and in the centre our hero at once recognised his Majesty, with the Earl of Marlborough upon his left hand, and upon his right a general of a plain but shrewd and honest countenance, who glanced at Captain Salt for a moment and resumed the writing upon which he was engaged.

King Willliam set down the bundle of papers that he had been conning with a sour expression, as if tasting bad wine, and ordered the Captain to come forward, which he did, with a profound salute.

"I have examined the lists, Captain Salt. They tally with other information which my admirals and generals have been able to give me; though, as they have not your advantages, their knowledge is of necessity scantier."

Beneath his words there lurked a contempt which made the Captain wince.

"Your Majesty, I have endeavoured to do my duty—such as it is."

"You say well. The disgrace lies with those who make it necessary."

"I am glad your Majesty should regard it in that light."

"Rest assured that I do, and admit the magnitude of the service you have done us. I understand you have come for your reward."

"Say rather that I have brought it."

"Explain yourself."

"I ask no reward, your Majesty, but the discharge of this young recruit." As he spoke Captain Salt drew Tristram forward from the doorway, where he was standing awkwardly.

"This is very extraordinary. I expected some request for money, I will confess."

"There are some things which rank above money," said the Captain with feeling.

"We are told so," replied William drily. "But might I ask for an instance or two?"

"There is paternal love. Your Majesty, this young man is my son." The Captain, at this point, brushed away a tear with the back of his hand.

"Why—but surely I remember his face?"

"That is probable: for you yourself, sire, did him the honour to enlist him, no longer ago than last Friday."

"I remember the occasion. But it did not then appear—at least, to my recollection—that he was a son of yours, Captain Salt."

"Will your Majesty be good enough to note the likeness between us?"

"I do not doubt your word. I merely remark that the two gentlemen who then interceded for him omitted to mention his parentage."

"Their names, I believe—"

"They were two gallant but wrong-headed gentlemen of his late Majesty's navy—Captain John Barker and Captain Jeremiah Runacles."

"It is to those gentlemen, who have guarded him from his infancy, that I would restore this young man."

"This is very magnanimous conduct."

"A father, sire, may for his son's good disregard his own yearnings. I would, with permission, escort him back to Harwich and assure myself of his happiness. Your Majesty need have no doubt of my return with the next transport."

"Indeed, Captain Salt, I myself should advise you, for your own safety, to be out of the way until this small storm has blown over. Present yourself as soon as you return. Sir," he continued, addressing Tristram, "you are discharged from my service, which, I must say, has not bettered your looks. Return to your guardians and, if they will allow you, cultivate some small amount of loyalty."

"I thank your Majesty very heartily," Tristram replied ingenuously, "and I regret if the plant has, until now, found no place in our garden."

"The squadron will sail again for England at midnight," said William with a faint smile; then, turning to the Earl of Marlborough, "My lord, will you write out the order?"

At this moment one of the pages entered with a note for the King.

"Let him come in," said William, after opening it and running his eye over the contents; then, addressing Captain Salt, "I fear this puts an end to our conversation for the time. If you will wait below, the necessary papers shall be brought to you. Farewell, young man; and when you embrace them, assure Captain Barker and Captain Runacles that I have still some hope of their finding a better mind."

They bowed and withdrew, giving place to the newcomer, who entered at that moment—an old gentleman in a suit of dark blue edged with silver. As he passed them in the doorway his eyes scanned Tristram narrowly, and he appeared to hesitate for a moment as if desirous of putting a question to the youth.

Unconscious of this look, Tristram followed his father down the stairs of the auberge. They had hardly reached the bottom, however, when a voice called from the landing above, and the Earl of Marlborough descended after them.

"Here are the papers," he said. "But, young sir, would you mind waiting here for a minute or two while I speak with your father in private?"

With this he opened a door upon the left and led the way through a dark passage to a covered skittle-alley at the back of the house. It was a deserted and ramshackle arcade and offered the poorest cover from the rain, which dripped through the roof and drifted under the eaves. The skittles lay here and there, as if the last player, weary of the game, had been tossing them about at haphazard. Here the Earl paused, looked around him, and began in a low voice.

"My friend, I regret to perceive that you begin to act without instructions."

"In what way?"

"You propose to return at once to Harwich with this son of yours."

"Certainly, my lord. It appears to me that I have deserved a holiday by this week's work."

"You shall take one; but not at Harwich just yet."

"And why not at Harwich?"

"For two reasons. In the first place you do no good, but harm, in returning thither at this moment. Understand that I am only asking you to defer the visit for a week or two. At present I am awaiting certain necessary information, without which you will hardly lay your hands on the good fortune I intend for you."

"You are mysterious, my lord. This boy of mine—"

"Will bring you wealth and dignity, I promise, if you allow me to conduct the affair. If not—"

"What is the other reason?"

"The other reason," replied the Earl, looking down and moving a skittle gently with the toe of his boot—"the other reason is that I require you to spend the first part of your holiday elsewhere."

"Where may that be?"

"At Saint Germains."

"My lord, you risk my neck with much composure!"

"There is no risk at all, unless—"

"Pray finish your sentence."

"—Unless you refuse," said the Earl significantly.