Chapter 7

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_ CHAPTER SEVEN.

We must now return to Eversden. Months had passed by since Roger and Stephen had sailed from Bristol, and no news had been received of them. At length one day Mr Battiscombe made his appearance, having ridden over from Langton Park, and desired to have a word with the Colonel alone. He looked graver and sadder than usual.

"I bring you news," he said, "and I beg you to break it to my friend Willoughby. Our two sons, as you know, sailed in the _Dolphin_. The owners write me word that so long a time has elapsed since they heard of her without receiving tidings of her, that they are compelled to give her up as lost. She had not been heard of at any of the ports up the Mediterranean. It is within the pale of possibility that the lads may have escaped, yet surely we should have heard."

"God's will be done," said Mr Willoughby when he heard the account. "I will not give up all hope of their return, though what has happened to them it is indeed hard to guess; still there are chances by which they may have effected their escape."

Though he could not at all times hide his grief, yet he bore up remarkably well. The only person in the family who would not consent to believe that Roger and Stephen were lost was Alice Tufnell.

"If it had been known that the _Dolphin_ had gone down, and there was one survivor who could report that all the rest had perished, we might then believe that the ship had foundered," she said, talking to Madam Pauline. "Who can tell but that the _Dolphin_ may have been driven on the shore of some unknown island, whence the crew have been hitherto unable to escape? I have read of many such adventures. The ocean is very wide, and perhaps Roger and Stephen are even now living the lives of castaways, and engaged, may be, in building a vessel in which they will some day return home. If I were a man I should like to fit out a ship and go in search of them."

"My dear, such undertakings appear very easy to the imagination, but practically the matter is very different," answered Madam Pauline. "It would be like looking for a needle in a bundle of hay. Supposing that the two dear lads are still alive, you would not know in what direction to go. You might sail about the ocean for years and visit every known and unknown island, and yet not find them. We must have patience and simply trust in God's mercy to bring them back if He had thought fit to save their lives."

When, however, not only month after month, but year after year went by, and the young men did not make their appearance, even Alice began to lose hope of seeing them. She spoke of them less frequently than formerly, though a shadow of sadness occasionally crossed her fair brow, but yet little had occurred to draw out the character of Alice Tufnell. She was determined and energetic, zealous in all she undertook; at the same time she was gentle and affectionate to those who had befriended her, with her sweet and loving disposition and sweet temper. Her voice was sweet and musical, and Madam Pauline and the Colonel delighted in hearing her singing. She was now about seventeen, her figure of moderate height, well rounded and graceful, while her countenance exhibited the serene and joyous spirit which dwelt within. She frequently accompanied the Colonel on a small pony, which had been Roger's, on his walks about the country. Sometimes she attended Madam Pauline, who, however, did not often extend her perambulations beyond the grounds or the neighbouring village. Why it was she had scarcely been able to say, but, when not engaged, Alice frequently made her way across the Downs to the top of the cliff, sometimes descending to Ben Rullock's cottage, not that she often found the old man at home, as he was generally out fishing, or gone away to Lyme, or some other place on the coast, to do commissions for the villages. Sometimes she would sit in Roger's favourite nook, at others would pace up and down on the cliffs, gazing out over the ocean, now blue and calm, and sparkling in the sunlight, now of a leaden hue, covered with foaming seas which came roaring up on the beach with a thundering sound. Of course she more frequently came when the wind was light and the water calm, and she could sit and gaze at them with satisfaction.

She had one day gone down to old Ben's cottage. Not finding him at home, she had strolled along the beach till she turned with her face towards Lyme, when she observed a boat slowly rowing along the shore. That must be old Ben's, and he probably has Toby with him, and they appear to have a passenger. It was curiosity perhaps which tempted her to linger for the arrival of the old man, to hear the news from Lyme, as it reached that place generally a day or two sooner than Eversden. She waited, now stooping to pick up a shell, now to mark with a stick she carried in her hand how far the sea had risen on the beach. Looking up as the boat drew near, she observed that the passenger had risen; as he did so he lifted his hat, but he again sat down as old Ben and Toby pulled rapidly in for the beach, up which they ran the bows of the boat. The stranger then stepping out advanced towards her, and once more bowed.

"Miss Alice Tufnell?" he said in a tone of inquiry.

"That is my name," she answered, looking at him with a somewhat doubtful expression. He was a young man, tallish and thin, with a complexion burnt to a dark brown, his countenance showing that he had undergone toil, if not probably also sickness and suffering.

"How do you know my name?" she asked.

"What, Alice! what, Miss Tufnell! don't you remember Stephen Battiscombe!" exclaimed the stranger.

"Is it possible?" she exclaimed, putting out her hand and gazing at his face. "I knew you were not lost; I always said so. And Roger, my dear brother Roger, why has he not come with you? Where is he?" she asked in an anxious tone.

"He is serving with the brave Captain Benbow. Though he longed to come and see you all, yet he would not quit his ship till she arrives in the Thames, and not then unless there is time to come down here and return before the Captain again puts to sea. Roger is wedded to a sailor's life, notwithstanding the dangers he has already run in following it; but he bade me give his best and truest love to you, Miss Alice, and his father and uncle and aunt."

Mistress Alice lingered for some time on the beach, so interested in listening to what Stephen was telling her, that she forgot he might desire to be proceeding homewards to relieve the anxiety of his own family. At length, however, Stephen suggested that they should proceed towards Eversden, when she led the way by the narrow path up the cliff. They then walked on, somewhat slowly it must be confessed, which was but natural, that Stephen might have time to narrate some of his adventures since the loss of the _Dolphin_. Madam Pauline was the first person they met, and she uttered an exclamation of surprise as she saw Mistress Alice approaching with a strange young gentleman, with whom she appeared on terms of intimacy.

"Who do you think he is, aunt?" asked Alice.

"Roger; no, he cannot be Roger; surely he must be Stephen Battiscombe!"

"You are right in your conjecture, my dear Madam Pauline," said Stephen; and the little French lady, seizing both his hands and looking into his face kindly, then hurried him off to see the Colonel and Mr Willoughby, to whom he had to narrate, as briefly as he could, his and Roger's adventures, and give the messages which his friend had sent by him. Mr Willoughby was anxious to see Roger before he again sailed, but his difficulty was to know where to find him.

"I must write to Master Handscombe," he observed; "he will ascertain when the _Benbow_ frigate comes into port, and will easily convey a message on board desiring him to come, and requesting the Captain to give him leave."

After partaking of some refreshment served to him by the fair hands of Mistress Alice, Stephen set off to return home. Next morning he came back to Eversden. He omitted in his hurry, he said, to pay old Ben Rullock for bringing him from Lyme. He invited Mistress Alice to accompany him to the beach.

"It is a path I have often trod alone of late," she answered, "and I know not why I should hesitate in accompanying you."

As Madam Pauline did not forbid her, she accompanied Stephen. Their conversation was probably interesting to themselves, but it need not be recorded. Stephen, of course, had a vast deal to tell her of his adventures, which she had not hitherto heard. This made them linger on the way, and sit down on the top of the cliffs, that they might converse more at their ease.

Certain it was that Madam Pauline considered it her duty to chide Mistress Alice for being away so long from home, although Stephen took the blame on himself by saying that he had to wait for some time to see old Ben, who was out in his boat, but he promised to try and keep better time in future. Day after day, on some excuse or other, he returned to Eversden. His father, he said, had written to his friend Mr Kempson at Bristol, who would, he believed, restore him to his position in the counting-house, while he hoped, from the encouragement he had before received, that he should soon make a satisfactory income, which would enable him to set up house for himself. He did not venture to say who would share his fortune with him, or to hint that Mistress Alice might be interested in the matter.

All this time no news had been received of Roger. Mr Willoughby had written to Mr Handscombe, who was still in London. He replied that the _Benbow_ frigate had not yet arrived, though she was long overdue, but the merchants to whom her freight was consigned had received notice of her having left Cadiz. Except from the account sent them through Stephen, they had not heard of her being in the channel. They spoke of the heavy gale which had occurred in the North Sea, and fears were entertained that she might have met with some disaster. This made the family at Eversden very anxious. Mr Handscombe wrote other news, however, to Mr Willoughby. He spoke of the extreme unpopularity of the king, especially among the Dissenters. Notwithstanding his promise not to support the Popish system, and to allow the right of free worship to all his subjects, he had already introduced innovations. The man who had governed Scotland with fire and sword, and murdered through his agents numberless persons for adhering to their religious principles, was, it was said, likely to commence a similar system of terrorism in England. Large numbers of Londoners, ever opposed to tyranny, were ready to revolt as soon as a leader should come forward. That leader had already been found, and only waited for an opportunity to carry out the proposed project, and to dethrone the Popish king. It was hoped that numbers in all parts of the country, especially in the western counties, would follow their example as soon as the signal was given, and the man to whom all looked as their leader had made his appearance on the scene. Mr Handscombe mentioned no names, he only spoke of reports, nor did he say whence the expected chief was likely to come; but Mr Willoughby was fully convinced that rebellion on a large scale was in prospect. He did mention the contents of this part of his letter to his brother-in-law. He felt sure that the Colonel would take no part in any proceeding of the sort, and might, from his loyal principles, feel himself called upon to support King James by sending notice of any information he might obtain, if not by taking more active measures. Mr Willoughby, however, rode over the next day to Langton Hall, and had a long consultation with Mr Battiscombe, who would, he knew, cordially support the cause calculated to overthrow the Papal system with which the country was threatened. They had a long and interesting discussion, at which his elder sons as well as Stephen were allowed to be present.

Stephen had now to set off for Bristol, Mr Kempson having agreed to receive him, but begged that he might pay one more visit to Eversden to bid his friends farewell. He rode over on a good horse that he might have a longer time to spend there. He found Mistress Alice about to set off on her favourite walk to the cliffs. As Madam Pauline was engaged up-stairs, and the Colonel was out in the fields, he did not hesitate to offer to accompany her, and she did not forbid him. They had just reached the Downs when they saw three vessels, one of large size and two others of smaller dimensions, standing in for the land. They watched them with much interest, Alice wondering what they could be, as ships of large burden seldom came near that part of the coast, Stephen observed that he knew something about the matter. "His father had received notice that morning that the Duke of Argyll, with a large force, had landed in Scotland, that the Highlands were in revolt, and that the Duke of Monmouth had sailed from the Texel. There can be little doubt," he added, "therefore, that the ships we see belong to him, although they are fewer in number than I should have expected."

"Then is there to be a rebellion in this part of the country?" asked Alice, in a tone of considerable anxiety. "Will the scenes I have read of in the time of Cromwell be again enacted?"

"I fear it is the only way by which we can get our rights, my sweet Alice," answered Stephen. "I would that war could be averted, but better to have war than to be tyrannically treated, our religious and civil rights trampled on as they have been for many years past; but, for my own part, I am ready to draw the sword in defence of our freedom."

"But can our freedom thus be secured?" asked Alice. "All the blood shed in former years gained nothing, and in the end the king, who has just died, was more securely seated on the throne than his father had been. You belong to a peaceable profession, and whatever is done, I entreat you not to engage personally in warlike undertakings."

"I thought, Mistress Alice, that you were a heroine, and would have been ready to gird on my sword and bid me go forth and fight in a noble cause," said Stephen, in a half playful, half serious tone.

"And so I would if I were convinced the cause was noble, right, and just, with a prospect of success."

"I promise you, Mistress Alice, not to draw sword unless in a righteous cause," said Stephen. "Will that satisfy you?"

"If the cause is righteous; but who is to settle that?" said Alice gravely.

While they were speaking the ships stood off the coast, the wind flowing northerly, and soon again were lost to sight.

"Perhaps after all that may not be the squadron which has been looked for," said Stephen. "Then you have uselessly been made anxious."

"I trust it may be so," said Alice.

And they continued their walk discoursing on subjects far more interesting to themselves than politics. Stephen spoke of his expected career at Bristol, and hoped, he said, to pay occasional visits to Langton and the spot endeared to him more than his paternal home. Though neither wished to return, they remembered that Madam Pauline and the Colonel might naturally complain were they long absent, and they at length bent their steps homeward. As they approached the manor house they were met by a loud shout; presently Roger came rushing out towards them. He greeted Alice as a sister, and shook Stephen warmly by the hand.

"I have just arrived from London town," he exclaimed. "We only got into the Thames a week ago. I scarcely expected to get leave, but Master Handscombe pressed the point with the Captain, and undertook that I should return in ten days, so that my holiday will be a very short one, and I must make the most of it."

Alice and Stephen expressed their delight at seeing him, and inquired the cause of his delay. He then described to them the gale in which the frigate had lost her masts, and their strange encounter with the French Captain Bart. Stephen required very little pressing to stop for the evening meal, which was soon to be placed on the table. He mentioned to Mr Willoughby that he and Alice had seen some strange vessels in the offing. Mr Willoughby seemed deeply interested at the account, and became very thoughtful.

"It agrees with the message which Roger brought me down from London, and which I would have you carry to your father, for he would intrust nothing to him in writing. The future man is on his way, and whether our slavery is to continue or freedom is to be obtained depends on the preparations made for his reception. If the gentlemen and yeomen of the West rise to a man, success would be secured; pray say that I shall be glad to have some conversation with your father without loss of time."

As the days were long, Stephen had broad daylight with which to return. Roger accompanied him, as the two young men had naturally much to talk about. Stephen again spoke of the vessels they had seen off the coast. He was convinced that they portended something of importance, and he proposed to Roger to ride into Lyme the next morning to learn any news the people of that town might have obtained on the subject. Roger gladly consented to accompany him, remarking, however, that he did not feel deeply interested in the matter. "Captain Benbow says that a sailor should stick to his ship and look after his men, and not trouble himself with affairs on shore, and I intend to follow his example."

On getting back to Eversden, Roger had so much to talk about that he kept the family, who were eager to listen to him, up to a later hour than usual. Notwithstanding, he was on foot at an early hour, and mounting his father's horse, he in a short time joined Stephen on the road to Lyme. The road was somewhat circuitous, hilly, and rough, so that it took them nearly two hours to reach the high ground above the town, whereupon they gazed across it over the blue sea. Stephen exclaimed, "Why, those must be the very three ships I saw yesterday evening; then I was not wrong in my conjecture, they must be the ships; they have, probably, troops and stores on board, and perhaps the Duke is with them. Let us ride on and ascertain."

Riding down into the valley, on the sides and at the bottom of which the town is built, the houses in outskirts being scattered somewhat irregularly about, they proceeded to the "George Inn," where they put up their horses, and to their surprise they found that no one was at all certain as to the object of the vessels in the offing; they were said to be Dutch, but they showed no colours. It was supposed that they were about to proceed along the coast; still there was some excitement. A boat had been seen to land at Seaton, some way to the east, and had put some persons on shore; who they were, and where they had gone, no one knew. Unable to gain any definite information in the town, Roger and Stephen walked down towards the Cob, where they saw a boat pulling out towards the ships.

"If we had been a little sooner we should have been able to go in her and ascertain what those vessels really are," observed Stephen.

"We shall know soon enough when the boat returns," observed Roger.

But the morning went by, and still the boat did not come back to the shore. This seemed to have created some suspicions in the minds of the authorities. They then proceeded to the Church Cliffs, to the west of the town, from which lovely spot, as they walked up and down, they could observe the vessels. Here they found a number of persons, who all offered various surmises as to the character of the strangers. Among the persons present were the Mayor and other authorities of the town. The former suggested that a gun should be fired to recall the boat, when, it was thought, if she had been retained for any particular reason, a friendly signal would be made.

"An excellent idea, Mr Mayor," answered another member of the Corporation. "But to confess the truth, we have not a grain of powder to fire a musket; we must wait patiently till the boat comes back."

The day passed by, till towards evening the post arrived. On this the Mayor and several of the Corporation hurried to the post-house. The post had brought a weekly _News-Letter_, in which it was stated that three ships had lately sailed from a port in Holland, and were supposed by the English ambassador to be bound either for England or Scotland, and that the Duke of Monmouth was aboard.

"What if those three ships out there are those spoken of!" exclaimed the Mayor. "We shall have an invasion, rebellion, and much fighting in these parts. My friends, we must call out the borough militia, we must oppose the landing, we must turn the tide of war from our own town to some other part of the coast."

This speech was highly applauded by the loyal part of the inhabitants. The drum was immediately beat to summon the lieges to defend the town. A very few answered to the call; instead of doing so, their Captain mounted his horse, and galloped off to carry the information to London. The Mayor, finding that he had gone, with several other members of the Corporation quietly slipped out of the town, and in a short time the whole place was in a state of confusion. No one had been able to say what was about to take place. Seven boats were now seen approaching the beach west of the Cob. Roger and Stephen went down to meet them.

"Come," said Stephen, "let us go down and meet them. We shall soon know all about the matter."

"But, surely, you will not join them whether the Duke is there or not, till you understand what are their intentions," said Roger.

"If the Duke comes, as I believe he will, to oppose the Papists and establish civil and religious liberty, I am bound to aid him with my life's blood," answered Stephen, enthusiastically.

In a short time the boats got near the beach, and from the largest a tall graceful man of handsome countenance, dressed in purple, with a star on his breast and a sword by his side, stepped on shore, when about eighty-three other persons, many of them by their dress being gentlemen, landed at the same time. As soon as all were on shore, the Duke, in a loud voice, his countenance beaming with satisfaction, exclaimed, "Silence, my friends. Let us now return thanks to God for having preserved us from the dangers of the sea, and especially from the ships which would have prevented our progress." Kneeling down on the sand, all the rest imitating his example, he lifted up his voice in a prayer of thanksgiving, though some of those who might have joined him were silent. The Duke then rising, with a cheerful countenance, drew his sword, and, ordering his men to fall into their ranks, advanced towards the town. Numbers now rushed forward to welcome him and kiss his hand, so that it was with difficulty at times that he could make his way. Among the most eager was Stephen, who, in spite of what Roger had said, hurried up to the Duke and offered his services. The townsmen now came up shouting, "A Monmouth! A Monmouth! Protestant religion." Amid a considerable concourse the Duke made his way to the Church Cliff, where his blue standard with the motto, "Pro religione et libertate." This done, some temporary tables were formed, at which several writers took their seats with books before them, ready to enter the names of those who were willing to enlist under his standard. The volunteers flocked in rapidly, and the number of the force was soon increased by sixty stout young men, for whom arms were provided, chiefly from those stored in the Town-Hall for the use of the militia. The two principal leaders next to the Duke were Lord Grey of Wark, who had landed with a musket on his shoulder, a pair of pistols in his girdle, and, far more important to the cause, a Scotch gentleman, a soldier of experience, Fletcher of Salton, who, taking command of the men, at once ordered some to take possession of the forts, others to guard the avenues, and the remainder to get the arms and ammunition from on board ship, including four field-pieces--the only heavy guns brought with them.

Roger had stood aloof, for he very well knew that were he to join, it would be, in the first place, in direct opposition to his uncle's wishes, and besides he had also engaged to serve with Captain Benbow on board a Royal ship, to which he expected shortly to be appointed. He was anxious, therefore, to return home as soon as possible, but he was unwilling to go without first ascertaining whether Stephen had made up his mind to remain with the Duke. He had some little difficulty in finding him among the crowd flocking round the standard, but at length he got up to him and took him by the arm.

"I am loth to leave you," he said, "but go I must. Tell me, will you return to Langton and consult your father before joining the Duke? and if so, we should be on the road, for the day is waning, and little more can be done this evening."

"I would rather ask you, Roger, if you have made up your mind not to join the noble cause. I tell you that I have resolved to throw in my lot with the Duke. You know not what I sacrifice by so doing, should success fail to attend our enterprise; but it must succeed, and ere many days are over, the Duke will be at the head of an army sufficient to drive James of York from his usurped throne."

"I tell you I am sorry that you have so decided," answered Roger. "Am I then to bear any message to your father except to say that you will not return home?"

"Yes, tell him that I have joined the Duke; and I am well assured that my brothers will, as soon as they hear of his landing, hasten to his standard."

"Have you any other message?" asked Roger.

"Yes, one which I know I can confide to you," answered Stephen in a low voice, not free from agitation; "it is to Alice. Tell her that I know I am acting contrary to her advice, and it grieves me deeply to do so, as it may appear that I am regardless of her wishes, but that I consider everything must be sacrificed to the cause of duty, and that no more sacred cause exists than the one in which I am engaged."

"I will carry out your wishes," said Roger with a sigh. "It seems to me as if we two had changed places; you used once to act the part of my Mentor, now I am urging my advice on you, though, alack! you appear but little inclined to follow."

"It is impossible, Roger, for I have already signed my name as one of the Duke's adherents, and I cannot desert him."

Roger, all his expostulations useless, wishing his friend farewell, hurried back to the inn, where he was just in time to prevent his horse from being taken possession of by some of the Duke's zealous adherents, who were eager at once to form a body of cavalry.

"Quick, young gentleman, and mount," whispered the landlord; "they have already secured all the steeds they could find at the 'Pig and Whistle,' and will be here anon."

Roger threw himself into the saddle. As he galloped off he heard shouts calling him back, but using whip and spur he was soon out of the town, nor did he pull rein till he was beyond reach of any pursuers. At the first hamlet through which he passed, several of the people seeing him riding fast, inquired if anything unusual had happened. Without considering that his prudent course would have been to keep silence, he replied, "Yes, the Duke of Monmouth landed this evening at Lyme, and I saw his standard set up in the market-place; what he is going to do, however, is more than I can say."

"Hurrah! At last he has come to free us from our Popish tyrants and taxes," cried one of the villagers; and another raised the shout of "A Monmouth! A Monmouth! We will go to him and fight for him if he wants us."

Roger rode on, and at the next village gave the same information with a like result. No sooner had he told the people that the Duke had landed, than nearly all were eager to join him. Roger had promised Stephen to ride straight for Langton Hall to inform Mr Battiscombe of what had occurred. He was delayed here and there by having to answer numerous interrogations, and at length he reached the Hall, by which time it was nearly dark. He told a servant to hold his horse while he went into the hall where the family were assembled at supper.

"What brings you here, Master Roger, and what has become of Stephen?" asked Mr Battiscombe.

"He has joined the standard of the Duke of Monmouth, who landed this afternoon, and he bade me ride on and tell you, being assured that you would approve of his proceeding."

"Would that I could join him myself!" exclaimed Mr Battiscombe.

"But I can, and I can," cried out two of his other sons, rising from their chairs as they spoke. "We will join him this very night; and you will return with us, Roger, of course."

"I am bound homewards," answered Roger. "I could not take such a step without consulting my uncle and father."

"For so glorious a cause we ought not to hesitate for a moment," exclaimed one of the young Battiscombes; "but if you will not go with us we must set out without you."

"Better wait till to-morrow morning," said Mr Battiscombe. "Employ this evening in preparing your arms, and collecting such articles as you may require."

After Roger's sturdy refusal to join the Duke, the young Battiscombes treated him with unusual coldness, barely indeed with civility; he, therefore, wishing them good-evening, mounted his horse and made his way towards the manor-house.

"Have you heard anything more about the ships Alice saw last night?" asked his father.

"Yes," answered Roger, and he described who had landed from them. "Stephen has joined the Duke, and wanted me much to do the same, but I declined till I had consulted you."

"You acted wisely, Roger," said his uncle. "It may be that he will gain the day, it may be that he will lose it; but certain it is that he who brings civil war into a land brings a heavy curse."

"And has Stephen actually joined the Duke of Monmouth?" exclaimed Alice, turning pale. "I urged him not to join so desperate a cause as that which the Duke's must be when he comes to oppose constituted authority."

"But he does not consider it desperate," said Roger, "but a right noble cause; and judging by the enthusiasm exhibited by the people, if the Duke has brought arms to put into their hands, and officers to drill them, he may speedily have a large army under his command."

"That remains to be seen," observed the Colonel. "I had hoped not to witness another civil war in our country."

Mr Willoughby had all the time kept silence. Although, perhaps, thankful that his son had not joined Monmouth's standard, he rejoiced that the Duke had safely landed and that the people showed enthusiasm in his cause. His belief was that the whole of the west of England would quickly be up in arms, that the army of James would melt away, and that a bloodless victory would be obtained over the tyrant. He made a remark to that effect to the Colonel.

"I wish no ill to the Duke of Monmouth," he answered. "If he succeeds he will be called the deliverer of our country, if he fails he will be branded as a traitor. It all depends on the prudence with which he acts, no less than on the purity of his views. If his cause is so intrinsically just, he is likely to obtain general support. If not, should he fail, he will be guilty of the ruin and destruction of those who engage with him. Undoubtedly the Duke, like you and others, believes that the whole of the west country, including the noblemen and gentlemen, will rise in his favour, that a rising will take place in London, that the Duke of Argyll will be successful in Scotland, and that the rebellion will be organised in Ireland; but all this remains to be proved, and it appears to me that the Duke, before he ventured on English ground, should have thoroughly assured himself that these events would occur."

Such were the opinions of a large number of the upper classes who were not unfavourable to the Duke, but were unwilling to hazard their lives and fortunes by taking an active part in an enterprise which had been commenced, as they considered, without due and sufficient preparation. The older men had witnessed and the younger ones had heard too much of the horrors of civil war to desire again to see it commence, unless they could be satisfied that the cause they advocated would be speedily and entirely triumphant. The large majority of Protestants would gladly have seen the Popish king driven from the throne, but even that event might be purchased at too high a price, and thus they thought it prudent to remain neutral in the coming struggle.

Before retiring to bed the Colonel summoned Roger to speak to him in private. Having commended him for the prudence with which he had acted, he added, "Now, my lad, I wish you to give me your word of honour that you will not be tempted by any persuasions to join the Duke. I know the enthusiastic spirit which animates your friend Stephen, who fully believes that he is engaged in a righteous cause, regardless of all the consequences of failure. He acts with the approval of his father, therefore I do not blame him; but I think it probable that he will endeavour to win you and others over, and I therefore wish to prepare you to resist all his arguments and solicitations."

Roger was somewhat surprised at this address, for he fancied that Stephen, whatever he might say, was not at all likely to win him over. He, however, readily gave his word to his uncle.

"I can now with much more satisfaction enjoy your society during your brief stay with us," said the Colonel, "and feel confident that you will make the best of your way back to London to join your ship when your leave is up."

The next day Mr Battiscombe came over from Langton Hall to call on the Colonel and Mr Willoughby. The object of his visit was very evident. He at once entered into the subject of the Duke of Monmouth's enterprise, and used every argument he could think of to induce his friends to support it.

He had given his sons, he said, to the cause, though his age and infirmities must prevent him from joining it personally, but he purposed setting to work to enlist men who would soon raise a body of cavalry, of which he hoped Colonel Tregellen would take command.

"I will do nothing of the sort, my friend," answered the Colonel, laughing. "My fighting days are over, and even if I thought better of the Duke's cause than I do, I would not risk the safety of those dependent on me by engaging in it. As a friend, I would advise you to return home and remain quietly there; you have given your sons to the cause, and I pray that they may be preserved from the dangers to which they must inevitably be exposed."

Madam Pauline and Alice were present; the former was greatly relieved when she heard the Colonel say this. Poor Alice looked pale and anxious. She was more ready than ever to forgive Stephen for having acted contrary to her advice, when she heard that he had done so in obedience to his father's wishes; still she dreaded the dangers to which he would be exposed,--dangers which the Colonel's remarks had conjured up in her imagination. Roger's stay was to be a very short one, he had spent so much time on his journey down; and as he would probably be longer returning, it was settled that he was to start on the following Monday. The family on Saturday night had retired to rest, but Roger, a very unusual thing for him, could not sleep. He had thrown open the window, which looked northward; before it, at some distance, ran the road between Lyme and Bridport. Presently he heard the tramp of feet and the murmur of voices. As he watched a part of the road which could be seen between the trees, he observed it filled with armed men marching eastward. There appeared to him to be a large number on foot pressing forward, then there came a body of horsemen. At length they all passed by. He was doubtful whether he should tell his uncle, but what would be the use, he thought, if they are Monmouth's men?--he would not join them. Or is it likely that the Duke could so soon have got an army together? If they are the king's, he might be called upon to give his assistance. He was very much inclined to let himself out of the house to go and ascertain what they were about. He resisted the temptation, however. Should he be discovered, his uncle, he felt, might suppose that he was breaking his word. Drowsiness stealing over him, he left his window open and turned into bed. He rose rather later than usual, and on going down to breakfast mentioned what he had heard during the night; but no one had been disturbed, and his father declared that he must have been dreaming. Roger asserted that he had both seen and heard a large body of men passing. The Colonel was somewhat unwell, and Mr Willoughby never left the house at an early hour, so Roger volunteered to go out and ascertain if anything unusual had taken place. He had just got to the edge of the plantations which bordered the high-road, when he heard the tramp of horses, and looking along it, saw a large body of mounted men trotting along at a fast rate coming from the direction of Bridport. Not wishing to encounter them, he crouched down among the underwood. At their head rode one of the officers who had landed with the Duke, who he heard was Lord Grey. His followers seemed to be in a desperate hurry, some pushing on before the others, as the oxen in a large drove are apt to do when the dogs are barking at their heels. They looked neither to the right hand nor to the left. The road was somewhat narrow, only three or four could ride abreast; thus they were some time in passing. Roger fancied they had all gone by, when, looking up, he observed a smaller party riding in better order. In the last among them, and apparently acting as an officer, he recognised Stephen Battiscombe, who kept continually turning round as if he expected some one to be following. Roger was much inclined to shout out and ask what had occurred, but he restrained himself, for he thought it possible that some of the men might look upon him as an enemy or a spy, and make him a prisoner. The appearance of Stephen had left no doubt that the party belonged to the Duke, and that they had been engaged in some expedition which had apparently not been successful. He now went on to the village, expecting there to obtain some certain information. Except the landlord of the little inn, who was too burly and short-winded to move, not a man did he find in the place.

"They are all gone, Master Roger," said Joe Tippler; "marched away to Lyme to join the Duke of Monmouth. The Duke, they say, will soon have a mighty army, and go and take London town."

Several women to whom he spoke could give him no further information; no one appeared to have heard the force passing during the night. Being unable to gain any further information, he was about to return home, when, on looking along the road, he saw towards the east another body of men on foot. It struck him that they might be the advanced guard of the king's forces, and that it would be prudent to keep out of their way. He hurried back, therefore, to the plantation in which he had before concealed himself. As they came up they appeared to be marching in tolerable order, and he soon saw by their flags that they were the Duke of Monmouth's men. They had among them several horses and a number of persons, who were evidently prisoners by the way they were guarded. Here and there some of the men appeared to have been wounded. Then there must have been fighting, and Monmouth's party after all have been victorious, thought Roger. He now returned home to make his report. He had done nothing heroic, but he had acted with prudence in keeping out of the way. The Colonel, with Madam Pauline and Alice, was preparing to go to church when he arrived, and by his uncle's desire he accompanied them. When they reached the church-door, however, except Master Holden and the clerk, with half a dozen poor women, no one was there. Notwithstanding, Master Holden performed the service, but it was evident that he was puzzled what to preach about, as it would have been useless to such a congregation to warn them against rebellion, as had probably been his intention. He therefore dismissed them without his usual address, observing that at any moment bodies of armed men might be visiting their peaceful village, and that they would be safer in their own houses than abroad. From Roger's account the Colonel had no doubt that Bridport had been attacked, that the cavalry having been roughly handled had retreated, neither horses nor men being accustomed to stand fire, while the infantry perhaps had held their own, having driven back their enemies, and had retired in good order. Roger wanted to go out again after dinner to obtain some more news, but the Colonel forbade him to leave the grounds, as it was likely that the king's forces would advance upon Lyme, if they were in sufficient number, and he might uselessly get involved in a skirmish. The remainder of the day, however, passed quietly. The next morning Roger was to start on his journey. He rose at an early hour; the whole family were up to see him off. It had been arranged that John Platt was to accompany him for the first twenty miles on the road towards London. He had a stout cob, which his uncle had given him to be sold in London for his benefit.

"Your father's friend Mr Handscombe will certainly find a purchaser," observed the Colonel. "Now, farewell, my lad, it may be months, it may be years, before you come back; you know not to what part of the world you may be sent. You have acted wisely; continue to do so, and should your life be preserved you will rise in your profession."

Roger's other farewells were made, and he mounted his horse. He carried a brace of pistols in his holsters, a sword by his side, and a valise strapped on behind the saddle. John Platt rode with an arquebuss hanging at his back, a good pistol in one holster, and a broadsword which had done duty in the Civil War. The Colonel ordered them to push forward as fast as possible towards London, that they might get clear of the excitement caused by the Duke's landing, and have less chance of being interrupted. John Platt promised to carry out his master's instructions.

"They shall pay dear, whether king's men or rebels, if they attempt to stop us," he said, as he clutched his big sword, which in his younger days he had used with powerful effect as a trooper under the Colonel, though at present it seemed doubtful whether his arm had still strength enough to wield it. The Colonel gave them his parting charges as they rode out of the court-yard and pushed forward, as they had been directed, towards Salisbury by by-paths with which John Platt was well acquainted. Here and there they met peasants hurrying towards Lyme, who eagerly inquired news of the Duke. Some asked if a battle had already been fought; others said that they understood the Duke had landed with an army of ten thousand men, which by this time had increased to twenty thousand.

"He landed with not ten thousand or not ten hundred either," answered John dryly. "He may have a thousand or two about him by this time. If you take my advice you will go back home and not risk your necks by joining him."

The advice, however, was seldom if ever followed, the men looking upon honest John as a malignant. As they advanced they met bodies of militia marching westward under Tory country gentlemen, who considered it their duty to side with the king though they had no personal affection for him. Roger on each occasion had to give an account of himself, and he found some difficulty in persuading some of these zealous Royalists that his intentions were honest. He was allowed, however, to go on, till at length the time came for his separating from John Platt. They warmly shook hands, as Roger did not consider it derogatory.

"Circumspect Master Roger," said the old man, "do not let strangers get into your confidence; give them the cold shoulder rather; ride straight on; when you arrive at an inn, see to your horse yourself that he gets properly fed; if a stranger enters into conversation, listen to what he may have to say, but give him as little information as you can in return."

Roger promised to follow the old soldier's advice, and found it greatly to his advantage. His horse held out well, and by judicious management he contrived to get to London in five days after leaving Eversden. On entering London he found the city perfectly quiet, not the slightest sign, as far as he could discover, of a proposed outbreak, the fact being that the king had arrested all suspicious persons of influence. He inquired his way to the house of Mr Handscombe, who lived not far from the Thames. The cloth-merchant was at home, and received him kindly. He was looking somewhat pale and anxious, and made many inquiries as to what was going forward in the south. Roger gave him all the information he possessed, but Mr Handscombe made but few remarks in return.

"Now, my lad," he said in a kind tone, "the sooner you get on board your ship the better for you. Captain Benbow is expecting you, and I promised to send you down as soon as you arrived, for I may not remain here long. Before you go you must take some refreshment, and I in the meantime will order a boat to be in waiting."

"Where snail I find the _Benbow_ frigate?" asked Roger.

"She is not the ship you are to join," answered Mr Handscombe. "Her Captain has parted with her, and is now in command of a fine king's ship, the _Ruby_, of fifty guns, lying at Deptford."

Mr Handscombe was absent while Roger was taking the food provided for him; he appeared, on his return, in a travelling dress.

"I have made arrangements for the sale of your horse as your father requests me; here is the amount which the animal will probably fetch, put it in your pocket and do not throw it away; and now come along."

"What, are you going with me, sir?" asked Roger.

"Yes, in the character of your father, going to see you on board your ship. Circumstances make it convenient to be away from London just at present, and the idea has struck me that I could not have a better opportunity. Your chest has been transferred to the _Ruby_, and you can carry your valise while I carry mine."

They hastened down to the boat and immediately stepped aboard, when the boatmen began to row lustily down the stream, the tide fortunately favouring them. They safely shot under the arches of London Bridge, and were now among vessels of various sizes and rigs, some moored to the banks, others brought up in the stream. Though the day was long, it was dusk before they reached the _Ruby_ Shaking Roger by the hand, Mr Handscombe bade him answer the hail of the sentry, and then without loss of time stepped up the side with his valise.

"Are you not coming, sir?" asked Roger. "No, my lad," was the answer; "I am going on board a merchant vessel which sails by the next tide. Fare thee well. I hope to meet you again some time when you return home; at present I know not exactly what is to be my destination."

Roger, as desired, answered the sentry's hail, and was allowed to step on board, when the boat glided away immediately, and was lost to sight. Captain Benbow, who was on board, received him cordially, and expressed his satisfaction at seeing him return so punctually. Roger expected to be questioned as to what was taking place in the west, but the Captain showed very little interest in the matter. He merely observed, "The Duke of Monmouth has landed, I understand. He did a foolish thing, but will do a wiser if he gets out of the country as fast as he can. Now, Willoughby, there is plenty of work for us on board; we have to fresh-rig the ship and get the crew into good discipline. At present except the men I brought from the _Benbow_ frigate, for one and all volunteered to follow me, we have not many worth their salt."

Roger was well pleased at being treated in a confidential way by his Captain; it showed that he was looked upon not only as a sailor, but as fit to become an officer. Except one lieutenant, the master, and boatswain, the other officers, strange as it may seem, had not been regularly bred to the sea.

"We must get another tarpaulin or two if the ship is ever to be brought into order," observed Benbow; "these young gentlemen from the shore are very well in their way, but they are more ornamental than useful."

As soon as Roger had parted from the Captain, on going round the ship he encountered old Sam Stokes.

"Glad to see you aboard our new ship, Mr Willoughby, though somewhat bigger than our old craft, but doubt whether she has as fast a pair of heels; however, if there comes a war we shall do something in her, no doubt about that, with such a Captain as ours."

Jumbo, on hearing that Roger had come on board, hurried up, and Roger had a talk with him of old times, and then went round among his old shipmates and spoke to each individually, thus winning their kindly feelings. He often wished that Stephen had been with him instead of having joined the hazardous enterprise in which he had engaged. He wrote twice to his friend. Not knowing where he might be, he addressed the letters to Langton Park, but he received no replies.

At length the ship was ready for sea, and, dropping down the Thames, stood out in the channel for a cruise. _

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