Roger Willoughby: A Story of the Times of Benbow

by William Henry Giles Kingston

  CHAPTER NINE.

  Stephen and Andrew Battiscombe had, without hesitation, given theirnames and other particulars of their family to Cornet Bryce.

  "Well, my friends, I can tell you that I think there is a chance, thougha slight one, that you may escape hanging," he observed, as he rodealongside them in a familiar fashion, two of his men going in front andtwo guarding the rear. "Our General and some of the officers under himare not above taking bribes, and if you can persuade them that yourfather will pay handsomely, you may possibly get off, provided they donot hang you without asking questions. I give you the hint, as it maybe of value to you."

  "Thank you," said Andrew. "I am very sure that our father will be readyto pay any sum he can afford to save our lives; should we even nowobtain our liberty, the person who enables us to escape would behandsomely rewarded."

  "He will probably be shot or lose his commission if caught, besideswhich, to do so he would neglect his duty as a soldier," answered theCornet. "No, no, young gentlemen, I gave you advice for your benefit,not for my own. I am not surprised at your making the proposal to me;some might take it. I thirst for no man's blood, and I have no wish tohandle blood-money. My father served under Cromwell, and though I am inthe service of King James, I have not forgotten the principles of myancestors. Would that I could free you without dishonour!"

  These remarks accounted for the Cornet's kind treatment to hisprisoners. They had too much reason to fear that they should not findmany like him in the camp. As they could reach no town that night, allthe horses being too tired, the Cornet knocked at the door of afarm-house and demanded admittance. The farmer cast an eye ofcompassion on the two prisoners, but said nothing, and, without amoment's hesitation, admitted the officer and his troopers, while hesent two of his men to lead their horses to the stables. His wife, onobserving that two of the troopers were wounded, came forward andoffered at once to dress their hurts.

  "I have some skill in that way," she said, "and I hope that if any ofthe Duke of Monmouth's men were to come asking help, I should not behardly dealt with if I gave it."

  "I would advise you, dame, not to try the experiment," said CornetBryce. "I fear you and your goodman would run a great risk of beinghung up if you were to afford help to the youngest drummer-boy in therebel army."

  "Alack! alack! these are cruel times," cried the good woman. "We hearthat the king's General is hanging up the poor people by scores; we donot desire to get our necks into the same noose. You will note, goodsir, that we are peaceable people, that we gave you an instant welcome,and will provide the best our house can afford."

  "Do as you propose, good dame, and I will report as well of you as Ican," said the Cornet, placing himself at the table, where he directedhis two prisoners to sit, close to him. The farmer busied himself inhelping his wife. As Stephen examined his countenance, he thought herecognised it as that of a man who had been in Monmouth's army. He madeno remark. Once or twice, while the Cornet and his men were engaged indiscussing their food, the farmer cast a glance at Stephen and Andrew,which showed, Stephen thought, that he also recognised them, and saidvery clearly, "Do not take any notice of me."

  As soon as supper was over, Stephen, turning to the Cornet, said, "Ifyou will give me leave, sir, I will take this opportunity of writing tomy friends in Dorsetshire. I may not have another. Farmer Stubbs herewill, I doubt not, be able to despatch a letter; and when he knows thatlife and death depend on it, he will exert himself to convey it insafety."

  The farmer started on hearing himself spoken of by name, which Stephendid inadvertently.

  "Ay, that I will, you may depend on it, young gentleman; I would ratherbe the means of saving a man's life than killing one, even in fairfight. If the Cornet will give me a safe pass that I may not be takenfor one of those running away from the fight, I will undertake to conveythe letter myself as soon as it is written."

  The Cornet did not appear to think that there was anything unusual inthis proposal, and without hesitation promised to write a pass if FarmerStubbs would find the paper.

  "Here it is, gentlemen," said the farmer's wife, who had got up and hadbeen searching about in a cupboard, as she produced several sheets ofcoarse letter-paper, very different from the fine notepaper of thepresent day, together with a bottle of ink, some quill pens, and a pieceof sealing-wax.

  Stephen at once commenced to write his proposed letter to his father,stating that he and Andrew had been captured on the supposition thatthey were escaping from the field of Sedgemoor; that they shouldprobably be executed forthwith unless they were ransomed; and he pointedout to his father the importance of at once sending a person of trustwith a sufficient sum, who might endeavour to obtain their liberation.Supposing that Roger Willoughby was still in England, he wrote a shortletter to him to be forwarded by post, entreating that he wouldcommunicate with Mr Kempson and get him to exert his influence. Thiswas done, it must be understood, under the idea which Stephenentertained, that after the slaughter of the battle-field was over, theprisoners captured would have a fair trial and time for their defence.He little dreamed of the cruel way Colonel Kirk and his lambs wouldtreat those placed in their power, or the bloody assize under JudgeJeffreys. As soon as the letters were finished, he asked the Cornet togive his promised pass to the worthy farmer, as if it were a matter ofno great consequence.

  "He shall have it, and I shall be very glad if he succeeds in obtainingyour release," said the Cornet.

  At length the farmer proposed that his guests should retire to rest,observing that his good woman would see them off in the morning, as hisjourney being a matter of life and death, he intended to start a coupleof hours before daylight.

  To this Cornet Bryce made no objection. "Very wise, as I suppose youknow the road," he observed.

  More satisfied than they had been for some hours, Stephen and Andrewplaced their heads on the pillow of the rough pallet which had beenprepared for them; the soldiers stretched themselves on the floor,except the two wounded men, for whom the good dame made up separatebeds, and again looked carefully to their hurts. They were all foursoon snoring in concert. Andrew had joined them. Stephen kept awake,considering if there was any possibility of escaping. From what CornetBryce had told him, he knew that there was a risk the moment theyarrived at Bridgewater of their being hung without examination or trialof any sort, numbers having been so treated by Feversham and ColonelKirk. It was far safer, therefore, to escape, if it could be done. TheCornet himself, though he sat up talking with the farmer for some time,at length turned into the truckle bed provided for him, and was soon asfast asleep as his men. Farmer Stubbs was making certain preparationsapparently for his journey, filling his saddle-bags with provisions, hisholsters with a brace of pistols and ammunition. They were thus engagedas noiselessly as possible when the door opened, and two young menentered. The old woman put her finger to her lips as they gazedsomewhat astonished at the number of occupants of the common room.Presently another came in; then the old lady, beckoning to them,accompanied them outside. On seeing this Stephen's hopes rose. If theywere all staunch men they might overpower their guard without theslightest difficulty, but then serious consequences might ensue to thefarmer. Probably his house would be burnt down and his propertydestroyed, should the troopers suffer any violence. It seems surprisingthat Cornet Bryce should so far have neglected his duty as to go tosleep without placing a watch over them. After some time one of theyoung men returned and came up to Stephen's bed. Finding that he wasawake, he made a sign to him to get up, and arouse his brother asnoiselessly as possible. As soon as they were both on foot he beckonedthem out of the room.

  "Our father's ale and cider are pretty strong, and if these fellows wakewe are more than a match for them. We may either bind them and keepthem prisoners somewhere in the neighbourhood, or we may put them todeath, or you may escape by yourselves, while you lame their horses toprevent them from following you."

  "If we had the power we would choose
the latter course," said Stephen."May they not revenge themselves by imprisoning your father anddestroying his farm?"

  "He will be far away from this before morning," answered young Stubbs."They will not catch a sight of any of us if we are in hiding, and theycan scarcely injure our poor old mother, who will know nothing of yourflight."

  "Then by all means let us try the latter course," said Stephen, hisspirits rising as he thought of once more obtaining his liberty.

  "Come along then," said young Stubbs. "One of us is going with you, therest remain, for we are safer in hiding close to the farm than we shouldbe in travelling across the country. We wish to serve you as we knowyou well. Mother will remain in the house, and be as much surprised asthe soldiers when they find you, their prisoners, have gone. She is awonderful woman, and will not yield an inch, besides which, we shall beat hand; should any violence be offered her by the soldiers, we will beready to astonish them."

  Simon said this while he led the way to the stables. He quickly led outStephen's and Andrew's horses, with one for himself.

  "Mount," he said. "There is no time to lose. My brothers will lookafter the troopers' animals, and take good care that they are not in afit condition to follow us. They have had no food all this time, poorbrutes. Some they will lame, others they will let loose. Stay, thereis one thing we forgot. The uniforms you wear are likely to betray you.It will be better to change them for my brothers' clothing. Wait here,and I will be back in a minute." Simon, who had not yet mounted,hurried into the house. He soon returned, bringing a couple of bundles,with two countrymen's hats. "Now we will mount and away, and changethese when we are farther on the road, before daybreak."

  At first they walked the horses, till they had got out of hearing of thehouse, then stuck their spurs into the animals' flanks and galloped on.Simon knew the road, and did not pull rein for a dozen miles or more.He proposed, he said, riding right across Devonshire so as to reach thesouthern coast, where they might find a vessel going over to France, orstill better, to Holland, where they would be among friends. Stephenand Andrew felt their spirits rise at thus finding themselves again atliberty, and they doubted not that this time they should make theirescape. Simon was evidently a very intelligent fellow, and up to allsorts of plans and projects for eluding the enemy. As daylightapproached he proposed entering a thick wood, in which he said he had nodoubt a stream could be found for watering their horses; they could herechange their clothes, and hide their uniforms in some place where theywere not likely to be found. Stephen was inclined implicitly to followhis advice, and without hesitation did as he suggested; but afterrefreshing themselves, they changed their dresses, as proposed. Huntingabout they found a hollow beneath an old tree; here they put in theiruniforms, and covered the hole up again with light earth and leaves;they then remounting their horses, rode on again for a couple of hoursmore. Even should the Cornet and his men follow them, it was impossiblethat they could reach thus far for several hours to come; theyaccordingly dismounted by the side of a stream where there wassufficient grass for their horses; thanks to Simon's forethought, theyhad food to last them, he calculated, till they could reach the coast.The next two stages were made at night, thus avoiding any dangerousquestions being asked by the people they would have met if they hadtravelled by day. At length they considered that they might venture totravel during part of the day. Accordingly, after breakfasting near astream, of which they found an abundance on their road, they pushedforward during the morning. As they kept as much as possible on theby-roads, and avoided the villages, they met but few people. Some ofthem looked at them askance, others addressed them and inquired wherethey were going, but the greater number took but little notice of them,supposing, probably, that they were farmers from a distance. A few,seeing that they were coming from the north, asked for informationregarding the Duke of Monmouth's misadventure. Of course, they couldsay they knew nothing of the Duke's movements, and as to the battleswhich had been fought, the less said about them the better; they mightbe taken for partisans of one side or the other, and all they wantedjust now was to attend to their own affairs, important enough to them,whatever they might be to others. This answer satisfied the inquirers,and the travellers got on with less inconvenience than they hadexpected. They were not generally very acute persons, or they mighthave suspected that Stephen and his brother, who were fine-looking youngmen, were not farmers, though Simon, both in his dialect and appearance,showed his real character. At length the coast was reached. It was oneof those rocky secluded little bays, or coves as they are called, whichabound on the shores of Devonshire; three or four fishermen's cottageswere scattered about on the sides of the cliffs; one was considerablylarger and better built than the rest. In the centre of the bay floateda boat, or rather a little vessel.

  "The probabilities are that that boat belongs to the owner of thecottage. She is large enough to carry us to France or Holland. If theowner will let her to us we can procure sufficient provisions."

  "Let us inquire then," said Andrew. "Simon and I will stand by thehorses, you will go down to the cottage."

  Stephen, agreeing to this, set off, and was soon at the door of thecottage. A superior-looking seafaring man opened it and bade him enter.

  "Does the boat brought up in the bay belong to you, friend?" he asked.

  "Yes, and as wholesome a one as ever floated on salt water; she will gothrough any amount of sea, always provided she is properly handled."

  "Then I should think she is just the craft to suit my two friends andme. I want to know whether you will let her to us for a couple of weeksor so."

  "Where do you want to go to in her?" asked the old man, eyeing hisvisitor.

  "To be honest with you, we desire to be put across either to the coastof France, or should the wind prove favourable, we should prefer runningon to Holland."

  The old man eyed Stephen narrowly as he was speaking. "You have someparticular reason, I conclude, for wishing to get off," he remarked."It is not merely a pleasure trip you wish to make, and if you go, Ineed not expect you to bring the boat back again."

  "To be frank with you, we have a particular reason," said Stephen. "Weare willing to pay accordingly. We will hand over to you a security,and pay a certain sum down, and give you a promissory note for theremainder."

  The old man seemed to be turning the matter in his mind. "I cannot sendthe boat alone, but you shall have the man who usually sails her since Ihave been laid by, Joe Savin, and my lad Tom Peddler, provided you paytheir wages from the time they sail to the time they return intoharbour."

  To this Stephen willingly agreed, highly pleased to make the bargainwith so little trouble. He accordingly, mounting his horse, rode backto where he had left Andrew and Simon, who at once accompanied him tothe house of the old pilot, for such he appeared to be. Here they allthree underwent a further scrutiny.

  "Here are our horses, which, if I mistake not, are worth a considerableportion of the value of the boat; I will, in addition, pay you fivepounds down, and will give you a promissory note for a further 10pounds, which my father, Mr Stephen Battiscombe of Langton Hall, willpay you."

  "That is tolerably good payment, I will allow, for the risk I run oflosing my boat," said the pilot; "but that risk is very considerable,and you must understand that if I did not suspect more than you havetold me, I would not enter into the venture. I do not ask questions."

  From this remark Stephen knew that the old pilot suspected him and hiscompanions to be fugitives from the field of Sedgemoor, and entertaineda sympathy which he was unwilling to allow.

  "As there is no time to be lost, we will ask you, friend, to givedirections to your men to go on board to store the craft with suchprovisions as we shall require for the voyage. I, of course, shall beready to pay for them in addition; five mouths to feed, we will requirea good store."

  "I have a cask of salted herrings, some dried cod, and I will see whatmy good wife, who is out marketing, can supply when she
comes home,"said the pilot. "May be we shall find some bread and other things inthe village."

  Fortunately for the fugitives the goodwife soon returned home. Onhearing the account they gave of themselves, she seemed to take as warman interest in them as did her husband, by her exertions. Joe Savin andhis mate being summoned, the little vessel was quickly provisioned.There was still some time of daylight when they finally went on board,having bid farewell to the old pilot and his wife.

  "Now, Joe, let us get under weigh," said Stephen. "As I have been tosea I can lend you a hand, and will either take the helm or help youforward."

  "You will take the helm, and let the other young men come forward and doas I tell them," said Joe, eyeing Simon's muscular form and Andrew'sactive figure. "We are stronger-handed than usual, for even when oldMr Headland is aboard, though he has got a head on his shoulders, hehas not much bodily strength remaining." The main-sail was soon set,the anchor, with the assistance of Andrew and Simon, quickly hove up andsecured, when the little vessel began to glide out of the cove. Theyhad just got off the southern point of the bay when they saw a number ofmen running along the cliff towards them. As Stephen was steering hedid not observe them particularly, but Andrew and Simon, afterattentively looking at them, exclaimed, "They are soldiers!"

  As they caught sight of the boat, the soldiers were seen to beckonvehemently, as if to call her back.

  "Very unlikely that we will do that," said Stephen. "The fellows havesomehow or other found out who we are, and old Mr Headland will, Ifear, be the sufferer."

  "If those soldiers want us, should not we put back?" asked Joe.

  "The very reason we should not," said Stephen. "We should do no good,and should certainly have our voyage delayed."

  Just as he was speaking the sail gave a flap; the boat was becalmedunder the high ground.

  "Get out the oars, lads; we must make the best of our way from theshore."

  Joe and the lads got out the oars, and Andrew and Simon assisted them topull. They had not made many strokes before several shot came whistlingover their heads.

  "Pull away," cried Stephen; "we shall soon be out of range, and in a fewminutes will catch the breeze again."

  The soldiers once more fired; two bullets struck the boat, but did nodamage; the third went through the main-sail. The soldiers shouted andgesticulated more vehemently than before. The party in the boat, atStephen's suggestion, took not the slightest notice of them, though theypulled on with might and main till the breeze once more filled the sailsand rapidly freshened. The boat now stood away to the southward, andwas soon out of range of the soldiers' muskets.

  "Perhaps after all we shall be followed," remarked Andrew.

  "No fear of that," said Joe. "There is not a man left in the harbour totake out a boat; the chances are the soldiers are not able to pullthemselves or they would have been after us by this time. See, thebreeze is freshening, and by nightfall we shall be well away from theland."

  This information greatly relieved the minds of the fugitives; they hadnow every hope of getting free, and, should the fine weather continue,be able to land in Holland. Stephen's chief anxiety was for the oldpilot; the horses would very likely be taken from him, and he might tooprobably be carried off as a prisoner for having enabled rebels toescape. Though they had not witnessed the cruelties practised byColonel Kirk and his lambs, Simon had told him of what he had heard, andof the hundreds who had been hung up on the Bussex oak directly afterthe action. They were justly afraid that Mr Headland might be treatedin the same cruel manner; and "if we had gone back we could have done nogood," Stephen said to himself over and over again. For some hours theweather continued fine, and the boat made fair progress, but towardsmidnight a dark bank of clouds rose to the eastward, threatening a gale.

  "What do you think of it, Joe?" asked Stephen.

  "We shall catch it, but the boat will float like a cork; we will shortensail in good time, though we shall not make much of our way towardsHolland till it is over, I have a notion."

  The boat, it should be understood, was only half-decked; but she hadgood high sides, and was provided with water-ways, so that unless thegale should prove of unusual violence, they had no reason to fear fortheir safety. Though Andrew had lived near the sea, he had seldom beenafloat, and Simon had never even seen the ocean before. At first he hadbeen highly pleased with its appearance, but now that he saw the darkleaden foam-topped waves rising up, he began to look as if he wouldrather have been safe on shore; but he was a stout-hearted fellow, andwas not disposed to give way to idle fears. The boat began to pitch andtumble about, and to take the water over her bows.

  "I will go to the helm now," said Joe to Stephen, "for though I see youknow how to handle a boat in smooth water, it is a very different matterin a heavy sea."

  Stephen gladly gave up the helm, and stood by with the lad to shortensail, should it be necessary. Two reefs had already been taken down,and the little vessel went bobbing away over the dark foaming seas,making but little progress. She might, as Joe affirmed, be the bestsea-boat out of Kenway Cove, but she was certainly not a fast craft, andwas inclined to make as much way to leeward as she did ahead. She wasnow standing over to the French coast, but Stephen and his friends wereunwilling to land there except in a case of great necessity. Shouldthey be discovered, the French Government, who were friendly with James,would be very likely to hand them over to him. Their only hope was toget into some retired place on the coast of Normandy, where they mightlive unnoticed, and engage themselves in fishing or some otheremployment. The wind increased; now the rain came down in torrents,drenching through those who were but ill-protected, old Joe, in a thickwoollen coat, and a pipe in his mouth, and a tarpaulin drawn down overhis head, looking as unconcerned as if it were a fine summer day. Headvised Andrew and Simon to get into the cuddy.

  "You ain't of much use," he observed, "and there is no reason why youshould get wet through to do no one good. Mr Stephen here may do as hepleases; we are likely enough to want his help; he has shown that he cangive it."

  Andrew and Simon, though they did not feel complimented, followed theold sailor's advice, but the tossing and the tremendous thumps whichthey heard every instant against the bow of the vessel, effectuallyprevented them from going to sleep, and made them wish to get out again.They felt also very sick and uncomfortable: the cuddy was hot andclose. The gale increased, and old Joe deemed it necessary to take downthe last reef and lower the fore-sail, keeping only the small storm-jibset. The operation took some time, and while Stephen was assisting inshifting the jibs, a sea struck the bows, and carried him off his legs.Providentially he clung to the forestay, or he would have, the nextinstant, been overboard; but he saved himself. He got the storm-jibhauled well on board before the next sea struck the vessel. Sail beingreduced, everything was made snug, and he came aft. Looking into thecuddy, he inquired how his friends were getting on.

  "Very badly," they both answered. "How soon is the gale likely to beover?"

  "It is impossible to say," he answered. "It may likely enough come onto blow harder; we shall then have to heave the vessel to, and wait tillit decreases."

  Andrew and Simon groaned on hearing this, and wished themselves safe onshore. In a few minutes Joe determined to heave the vessel to, whichwas done under the storm-jib and mizzen, while the main-sail was lowereddown and stowed. When morning broke, there the little vessel lay,riding on the leaden seas, and the dark clouds overhead, and masses ofspray driving against her. Old Joe said they were pretty nearly aboutthe spot where they were the night before--no nearer the French coast,no farther from that of England. There seemed to be little likelihoodof the gale abating. Joe put the lad, who had been sleeping most of thenight, to watch the helm while he took a snooze. The rest of the partyhad slept but little. Stephen had not closed his eyes, but he now feltvery weary, and could no longer keep awake, so he lay down in the cuddy,caring less for the thumping sound than Andrew had done. He slept onf
or some hours in spite of wind whistling in the rigging, the roaring ofthe seas, which ever and anon broke over the little vessel, half fillingher with water. Old Joe got the pump rigged, and bade Andrew and Simon,as they could do nothing else, work away at it. He kept them at it tilltheir arms ached, but it was far better than being idle. At lastStephen got up; he proposed that they should have some food, as neitherof his friends had taken anything since the previous evening. At firstthey declared that they could get nothing down. He persuaded them totry. Following his example, they succeeded better than they hadexpected, and were able again to turn to the pump. With an easterlygale such as they were now experiencing, there is generally a clear sky,but on this occasion, clouds massed on clouds came rushing along fromthe North Sea. Though hove-to, as far as old Joe could calculate, aboutmid-channel, the little vessel was drifting fast to leeward, farther andfarther from the direction which those on board desired to go. Old Joeproposed at length that they should run back to some port on the Englishcoast. Against this Stephen protested. They had had a narrow escape asit was, and wherever they might put in, they would be nearly certain tobe suspected.

  "Then we must bear up for a French port," said Joe.

  "That will only be a degree better," observed Stephen.

  "Well, then, it is a choice of evils," said Joe. "If we do not get intosome port or other, and it should come on to blow harder than it doesnow, the chances are the craft will go down. Better to be taken by theFrench."

  "We will hope that the gale won't increase," said Stephen, who havingthus far succeeded in escaping from his enemies, was not inclined todespair. His brother and Simon were more out of spirits about thematter. Still it seemed probable that the gale would increase; not abreak appeared in the clouds. As long as the provisions lasted, and theboat could keep above water, Stephen determined to remain at sea. Theboat, however, was leaking considerably, and the provisions werebecoming exhausted, so that even should the gale moderate they couldscarcely hope to reach a Dutch port before their food would have come toan end. All day long the little vessel lay tossing about. They spokelittle, though they had much to think about. Their thoughts were notsuch as they could give expression to before others. Joe, who wasgenerally a cheery old fellow, sat looking glum and downcast.

  "It is all very well for you to say you won't go back, but if we don't,as I said before, we shall go to the bottom."

  Still Stephen was determined to attempt to get on as soon as the galehad abated. He knew that it was as dangerous to run before the seas,when there would be a great probability of being pooped, as to remainhove-to. That they had been drifting down channel he was aware. Howfar they had got it was difficult to say. To attempt to make the landthey might fail to enter any sheltering harbour, and might be cast onsome rocky shore, where the vessel would be lost. Stephen argued thepoint with old Joe.

  "Well," replied the latter, "you must be answerable for whateverhappens. Remember, if the craft goes down it is your fault, not mine."

  Stephen was half inclined to smile at what Joe said, and willinglyundertook to be responsible for whatever should occur, and going to thepump, set to work to encourage his companions. Thus they continuedtumbling and tossing about as they had been doing for many hours. Atlength, overcome with fatigue, Stephen lay down in the cuddy, hoping tosnatch a short rest. How long he had been asleep he could not tell,when he was awakened by a loud crash. Starting up, he saw to his dismaythat the mast had gone by the board. Old Joe was equal to theemergency. "Get out the oars, lads, and we will try and keep thecraft's head to wind, while I cut away the wreck. It is our onlychance, for if she is brought broadside to the sea, she will fill in aninstant and go down."

  Tom Peddler, accustomed to obey old Joe, promptly got out one of theoars, while Andrew and Simon got out the other; Stephen, springing aft,went to the helm. Joe soon cleared the mast, the butt end of which hadbeen battering away against the side of the boat, threatening to knock ahole in her. By considerable exertion she was kept head to wind, whilein a few minutes old Joe, who had been looking out, shading his eyeswith his hands, declared that the gale was breaking. Soon a light wasseen to shine forth between the clouds to the eastward, and it becameevident that the wind, having played them this cruel trick, was goingdown. Though they had to pull hard to prevent the boat from beingswamped, still, as long as they could do that, they hoped at all eventsto save their lives for the present. Though, after all, they should becompelled to put into a French port, to do so was not altogetherhopeless, as they would have the excuse of coming in for the sake ofgetting a fresh mast. The wind continued to go down, and the sea todecrease so much, that their exertions were greatly lessened. They wereable to enjoy a better meal also than they had taken. They had justfinished, when Andrew, who was on the look-out, exclaimed--"I see awhite sail away to the east. See, the canvas shines like snow againstthe clouds."

  Joe jumped up at hearing this, and took a look at the stranger, which hepronounced to be a large ship bearing directly down for them. "Whetherfriend or foe, we cannot escape her; but if she is Dutch we are in nodanger. I do not know how a Frenchman would treat us. We have most todread from one of our own ships; more's the shame it should be so."

  As there was no necessity any longer for keeping the oars going, all onboard anxiously watched the approaching ship.

  "She is a man-of-war, I have little doubt," said Joe. "Carries fiftyguns. She is English, too," he added; "she has hoisted her ensign atthe peak."

  "Remember we have but one simple tale to tell," said Stephen to Andrewand Simon; "we are bound for Holland. We must neither show fear norsurprise if we are taken on board. Merely ask the English Captain tosupply us with a mast and the necessary rigging, in place of the one wehave lost."

  In a short time the frigate was up to the little vessel. A boat waslowered, and a lieutenant and midshipman came in her.

  "What has brought you into this condition, friends?" asked the former,looking at Joe.

  "Oh," replied Joe, "a sudden squall carried away our mast."

  "The Captain's orders were to bring your boat alongside," said thelieutenant. "Get out your oars; we will soon tow you there."

  Just then Stephen, who had been looking at the midshipman, exclaimed,"Roger Willoughby!"

  Roger started up and cried out, "Stephen Battiscombe! I should not haveknown you, you look so thin and careworn. What has brought you outhere?"

  "My brother and I and our friend are going to seek our fortune inHolland," answered Stephen, who would rather not have had his namementioned.

  As the lieutenant was in a hurry to obey his orders, he directed Joe toheave him a tow-rope, and the little vessel was quickly carriedalongside the ship. On the deck Stephen saw his old commander CaptainBenbow, who, however, did not recognise him, dressed as he was incountryman's clothes.

  "What brought you out here, my men, in mid-channel?" asked the Captain."Come up on deck, and let me have a talk with you."

  Stephen at once obeyed; Andrew and Simon followed him more slowly. ToStephen's surprise Roger took no further notice of him, though his oldfriend, knowing how he had been engaged, had a shrewd suspicion of thetruth, and thought that he had probably assumed some fictitious name.It was better to let him answer for himself. Stephen replied, as hadbeen agreed on, that he and his companions were bound for Holland toseek their fortunes, and that in consequence of being unable to find alarger vessel, they had embarked in the _Duck_ and had it not been forthe gale they encountered, they hoped to have been there by this time.

  "Not much chance of getting there unless you are fitted with a newmast," said the Captain. "My wish is always to help fellow-seamen indistress. Though you are dressed as a farmer, I am very sure that bythe way you came up the side that you have been at sea before, and whileI look at you, it appears to me that we have been shipmates. I will notask questions. If I did I should want true answers. Come, my friend,the sooner we get your craft fitted out the better for you;
the wind maybreeze up again, and it may become a difficult job." Without takingfurther notice of Stephen and his companions, he ordered the carpenterand boatswain to try how fast they could fit and rig a new mast for thelittle _Duck_. "That won't be looked upon as neglect of duty or aidingand abetting. Remember, we don't know who these men are," he said,turning to Roger. "We found them in distress on the high seas, and wedo what every man is bound to do, help them to get into port as bestthey can."

  Roger did not say that he recognised Stephen, although he guessed thatthe Captain, from what he said, had done so. He was longing himself toask Stephen to give him an account of his adventures, but he judged thatthe Captain would object to his doing this. He was very thankful thatStephen had escaped from the battle of Sedgemoor, of which a fullaccount had reached London, as well as of the dreadful slaughter whichhad been inflicted on the insurgents. Like all those who served underBenbow, the carpenter and gunner of his ship, aided by their crews,exerted themselves to the utmost to get the mast finished. They knewthat it need not be very shapely, provided the main-sail, which had beensaved, could be set upon it. In the course of a couple of hours thelittle _Duck_ was once more ready to continue her voyage. Stephenheartily thanked the Captain for his kindness.

  "Say not a word about it, my lad," answered Captain Benbow; "I am gladto give you a helping hand. I should have advised you to come on boardmy ship instead of continuing your voyage in that cockle-shell, but I ambound up the Bristol Channel to look out for fugitives from the Duke ofMonmouth's unfortunate army, and my directions are to cruise betweenBideford Bay and Bridgewater Bay. If I had found a craft coming fromthat part of the coast, I should have been compelled to detain her andall on board. Now, fare you well. I wish that you had stuck to thesea, and you would have kept out of difficulties into which so many atthe present day have fallen. By the by, as you have been out so long,you may be in want of provisions; I have some private stores, and youshall be welcome to them," and he ordered his steward to put a keg ofbiscuits, a case of Spanish hams, a couple of casks of water, and otherminor articles on board. The honest Captain, from the warmth of hisheart, could not help shaking his old acquaintance by the hand as hedismissed him to his little vessel. Roger slipped down the side andgrasped his hand.

  "I am so glad you got off," he exclaimed. "I did not speak to youbefore, because I waited to take the cue from the Captain. It is allright; remember, let them know at Eversden, through the Colonel, whenyou arrive safely in Holland. I am glad you are going there instead ofto France, for the Captain thinks we shall be at loggerheads with theMounseers soon."

  Saying this, and having wrung Stephen's hand, Roger sprang up the sideof his ship, when the little _Duck_, shoving off, made sail to theeastward, while the _Ruby_ stood on her course down Channel.