CHAPTER XV.
A NIGHT AND MORNING.
When I read of men possessed by some Spirit--that is to say,compelled to go hither and thither where, but for the Spirit, theywould not go, and to say things which they would not otherwisehave said--I think of our midnight ride to Lyme, and of my fatherthere, and of the three weeks' madness which followed. It was someSpirit--whether of good or evil, I cannot say, and I dare not somuch as to question--which seized him. That he hurried away to jointhe Duke on the first news of his landing, without counting the costor weighing the chances, is easy to be understood. Like Humphrey,he was led by his knowledge of the great numbers who hated theCatholic religion to believe that they, like himself, would risewith one accord. He also remembered the successful rebellion againstthe first Charles, and expected nothing less than a repetition ofthat success. This, I know, was what the exiles in Holland thoughtand believed. The Duke, they said, was the darling of the people;he was the Protestant champion: who would not press forward when heshould draw the sword? But what other man--what man in his sobersenses would have dragged his wife and daughter with him to thegodless riot of a camp? Perhaps he wanted them to share his triumph,to listen while he moved the soldiers, as that ancient hermit Petermoved the people to the Holy Wars? But I know not. He said that Iwas to be, like Jephthah's daughter, consecrated to the Cause of theLord; and what he meant by that I never understood.
He was so eager to start upon the journey that he would not waita moment. The horses must be saddled; we must mount and away. Markthat they were Sir Christopher's horses which we borrowed; this alsowas noted afterwards for the ruin of that good old man, with otherparticulars: as that Monmouth's Declaration was found in the house(Barnaby brought it); one of Monmouth's Captains, Barnaby Eykin byname, had ridden from Lyme to Bradford in order to see him; he was afriend of the preacher Dr. Eykin; he was grandfather to one of therebels and grand-uncle to another; with many other things. But thesewere enough.
'Surely, surely, friend,' said Sir Christopher, 'thou wilt not takewife and daughter? They cannot help the Cause; they have no place ina camp!'
'Young men and maidens: one with another. Quick! we waste the time.'
'And to ride all night? Consider, man--all night long!'
'What is a night? They will have all eternity for rest.'
'He hath set his heart upon it,' said my mother. 'Let us go--anight's weariness will not do much harm. Let us go, Sir Christopher,without further parley.'
'Go then, in the Name of God,' said the old man. 'Child, give me akiss.' He took me in his arms and kissed me on the forehead. 'Thouart, then,' he said tenderly, 'devoted to the Protestant Cause.Why, thou art already promised to a Protestant since this morning:forget not that promise, child. Humphrey and Barnaby will protectthee--and'----
'Sir,' cried Robin quickly, 'by your leave, I alone have the rightto go with her and to protect her.'
'Nay, Robin,' I said, 'stay here until Sir Christopher himself bidsthee go. That will perhaps be very soon. Remember thy promise. Wedid not know, Robin, an hour ago, that the promise would be claimedso soon. Robin'--for he murmured--'I charge thee, remain at homeuntil'----
'I promise thee, Sweetheart.' But he hung his head and lookedashamed.
Sir Christopher, holding my hand, stepped forth upon the grass andlooked upwards into the clear sky, where in the transparent twilightwe could see a few stars twinkling.
'This, friend Eykin--this, Humphrey,' he said, gravely, 'is asolemn night for all. No more fateful night hath ever fallen uponany of us; no! not that day when I joined Hampden's new regimentand followed with the army of Lord Essex. Granted that we have arighteous cause, we know not that our leader hath in him the root ofthe matter. To rise against the King is a most weighty matter--fatalif it fail, a dangerous precedent if it succeed. Civil war is, ofall wars, the most grievous; to fight under a leader who doth notlive after the Laws of God is, methinks, most dangerous. The Dukehath lit a torch which will spread flames everywhere'----
'It is the Voice of the Lord which calleth us!' my fatherinterrupted. 'To-morrow I shall speak again to God's Elect.'
'Sir,' said Humphrey, very seriously, 'I pray you think not thatthis enterprise hath been rashly entered upon, nor that we dependupon the judgment of the Duke alone. It is, most unhappily, truethat his life is sinful, and so is that of Lord Grey, who hathdeserted his own lawful wife for her sister. But those who havepushed on the enterprise consider that the Duke is, at least, atrue Protestant. They have, moreover, received solid assurances ofsupport from every quarter. You have been kept in the dark from thebeginning at my own earnest request, because, though I knew fullwell your opinion, I would not trouble your peace or endanger yourperson. Suffer us, then, to depart, and, for yourself, do nothing;and keep--oh! Sir, I entreat you--keep Robin at home until oursuccess leaves no room for doubt.'
'Go, then, go,' said Sir Christopher; 'I have grievous misgivingsthat all is not well. But go, and Heaven bless the Cause!'
Robin kissed me, whispering that he would follow, and that beforemany days; and so we mounted and rode forth. In such hot haste didwe depart that we took with us no change of raiment or any provisionfor the journey at all, save that Barnaby, who, as I afterwardsfound, never forgot the provisions, found time to get together asmall parcel of bread and meat, and a flask of Canary, with which torefresh our spirits later on. We even rode away without any money.
My father rode one horse and my mother sat behind him: then Ifollowed, Barnaby marching manfully beside me, and Humphreyrode last. The ways are rough, so that those who ride, even bydaylight, go but slowly; and we, riding between high hedges, wentmuch too slowly for my father, who, if he spoke at all, cried outimpatiently, 'Quicker! Quicker! we lose the time.'
He sat bending over the horse's head, with rounded shoulders, hisfeet sticking out on either side, his long white hair and his raggedcassock floating in the wind. In his left hand he carried his Bibleas a soldier carries his sword; on his head he wore the black silkcap in which he daily sat at work. He was praying and meditating; hewas preparing the sermon which he would deliver in the morning.
Barnaby plodded on beside me: night or day made no difference tohim. He slept when he could, and worked when he must. Sailors keeptheir watch day and night without any difference.
'It was Sir Christopher that I came after,' he told me presently.'Mr. Dare--who hath since been killed by Mr. Fletcher--told the Dukethat if Sir Christopher Challis would only come into camp, old ashe is, the country gentlemen of his opinions would follow to a man,so respected is he. Well, he will not. But we have his grandnephew,Humphrey; and, if I mistake not, we shall have his grandson--ifkisses mean anything. So Robin is thy Sweetheart, Sister: thou art alucky girl. And we shall have Dad to preach to us. Well, I know notwhat will happen, but some will be knocked o' the head, and if Dadgoes in the way of knocks----But, whatever happens, he will get histongue again--and so he will be happy.'
'As for preaching,' he went on, speaking with due pauses, becausethere was no hurry in these dark lanes, and he was never one ofthose whose words flow easily, 'if he thinks to preach daily, asthey say was done in Cromwell's time, I doubt if he will find manyto listen, for by the look of the fellows who are crowding into campthey will love the clinking of the can better than the division ofthe text. But if he cause his friends to join he will be welcomed:and for devoting his wife and daughter to the Cause, that, Sister,with submission, is rank nonsense, and the sooner you get out of thecamp, if you must go there, the better. Women aboard ship are badenough, but in camp they are the very devil.'
'Barnaby, speak not lightly of the Evil One.'
'Where shall we bestow you when the fighting comes? Well, it shallbe in some safe place.'
'Oh, Barnaby! will there be fighting?'
'Good lack, child! what else will there be?'
'As the walls of Jericho fell down at the blast of the trumpet, sothe King's armies will be dispersed at the approach of the Lord'ssoldiers.'
 
; 'That was a vast long time ago, Sister. There is now no suchtrumpet-work employed in war, and no priests on the march; butplenty of fighting to be done before anything is accomplished. Buthave no fear. The country is rising. They are sick at heart alreadyof a Popish King. I say not that it will be easy work; but it can bedone, and it will be done, before we all sit down again.'
'And what will happen when it is done?'
'Truly, I know not. When one King is sent a-packing they must needsput up another, I suppose. My father shall have the biggest churchin the country to preach in; Humphrey shall be made physician to thenew King--nothing less; you shall marry Robin, and he shall be madea Duke or a Lord at least; and I shall have command of the biggestship in the King's navy, and go to fight the Spaniards, or to tradefor negroes on the Guinea Coast.'
'But suppose the Duke should be defeated?'
'Well, Sister, if he is defeated it will go hard with all of us.Those who are caught will be stabbed with a Bridport dagger, asthey say. Ask not such a question; as well ask a sailor what willhappen to him if his ship is cast away. Some may escape in boatsand some by swimming, and some are drowned, and some are cast uponsavage shores. Every man must take his chance. Never again ask sucha question. Nevertheless, I fear my father will get his neck as farin the noose as I myself. But remember, Sister Alice, do you and mymother keep snug. Let others carry on the rebellion, do you keepsnug. For, d'ye see, a man takes his chance, and if there shouldhappen (as there may) a defeat and the rout of these country lads,I could e'en scud by myself before the gale and maybe get to aseaport and so aboard and away while the chase was hot. But for awoman! Keep snug, I say, therefore.'
The night, happily, was clear and fine. A slight breeze was blowingfrom the north-west, which made one shiver, yet it was not too cold.I heard the screech-owl once or twice, which caused me to tremblemore than the cold. The road, when we left the highway, which is notoften mended in these parts, became a narrow lane full of holes anddeep ruts, or else a track across open country. But Barnaby knew theway.
It was about ten of the clock when we began our journey, and it wassix in the morning when we finished it. I suppose there are fewwomen who can boast of having taken so long a ride and in the night.Yet, strange to say, I felt no desire to sleep; nor was I weariedwith the jogging of the horse, but was sustained by something ofthe spirit of my father. A wonderful thing it seemed to me that asimple country maid, such as myself, should help in putting downthe Catholic King; women there have been who have played greatparts in history--Jael, Deborah, Judith, and Esther, for example;but that I should be called (since then I have discovered that Iwas not called), this, indeed, seemed truly wonderful. Then I wasgoing forth to witness the array of a gallant army about to fightfor freedom and for religion, just as they were arrayed forty yearsbefore, when Sir Christopher was a young man and rode among them.
My brother, this stout Barnaby, was one of them; my father was oneof them; Humphrey was one of them; and in a little while I was verysure (because Robin would feel no peace of mind if I was with theinsurgents and he was still at home) my lover would be with themtoo. And I pictured to myself a holy and serious camp, filled withgodly, sober soldiers, listening to sermons and reading the Bible,going forth to battle with hymns upon their lips; and withal sovaliant that at their very first onset the battalions of the Kingwould be shattered. Alas! anyone may guess the foolish thoughts ofa girl who had no knowledge of the world, nor any experience. Yetall my life I had been taught that Resistance was at times a sacredduty, and that the Divine Right of the (so-called) Lord's Anointedwas a vain superstition. So far, therefore, was I better preparedthan most women for the work in hand.
When we rode through Sherborne all the folk were a-bed and thestreets were empty. From Sherborne our way lay through Yetminsterand Evershott to Beaminster, where we watered and rested the horses,and took some of Barnaby's provisions. The country through whichwe rode was full of memories of the last great war. The castle ofSherborne was twice besieged; once by Lord Bedford, when the Marquisof Hertford held it for the King. That siege was raised; but itwas afterwards taken by Fairfax, with its garrison of six hundredsoldiers, and was then destroyed, so that it is now a heap of ruins;and as for Beaminster, the town hath never recovered from the greatfire when Prince Maurice held it, and it is still half in ruins,though the ivy hath grown over the blackened walls of the burnedhouses. The last great war, of which I had heard so much! And now,perhaps, we were about to begin another.
It was two o'clock in the morning when we dismounted at Beaminster.My mother sat down upon a bench and fell instantly asleep. My fatherwalked up and down impatiently, as grudging every minute. Barnaby,for his part, made a leisurely and comfortable meal, eating hisbread and meat--of which I had some--and drinking his Canary withrelish, as if we were on a journey of pleasure and there was plentyof time for leisurely feeding. Presently he arose with a sigh (thefood and wine being all gone), and said that, the horses being nowrested, we might proceed. So he lifted my mother into her seat andwe went on with the journey, the day now breaking.
The way, I say, was never tedious to me, for I was sustained by thenovelty and the strangeness of the thing. Although I had a thousandthings to ask Barnaby, it must be confessed that for one who hadtravelled so far he had marvellous little to tell. I daresay thatthe deck and cabins of a ship are much the same whether she be onthe Spanish Main or in the Bristol Channel, and sailors, even inport, are never an observant race, except of weather and so forth.It was strange, however, only to look upon him and to mark howstout a man he was grown and how strong, and yet how he still spokelike the old Barnaby, so good-natured and so dull with his book,who was daily flogged for his Latin grammar, and bore no malice,but prepared himself to enjoy the present when the flogging wasover, and not to anticipate the certain repetition of the floggingon the morrow. He spoke in the same slow way, as if speech were athing too precious to be poured out quickly; and there was alwayssense in what he said (Barnaby was only stupid in the matter ofsyntax), though he gave me not such answers as I could have wished.However, he confessed, little by little, something of his historyand adventures. When he ran away, it was, as we thought, to theport of Bristol, where he presently found a berth as cabin-boy onboard a West India-man. In this truly enviable post--everybody onboard has a cuff or a kick or a rope's-end for the boy--he continuedfor some time. 'But,' said Barnaby, 'you are not to think that therope's-end was half so bad as my father's rod; nor the captain'soath so bad as my father's rebuke; nor the rough work and hard fareso bad as the Latin syntax.' Being so strong, and a hearty, willinglad to boot, he was quickly promoted to be an able seaman, whenthere were no more rope's-endings for him. Then, having an ambitionabove his station, and not liking his rude and ignorant companionsof the fo'k'sle (which is the fore-part of a ship, where the commonsailors sleep and eat), and being so fortunate as to win the goodgraces of the supercargo first and of the captain next, he appliedhis leisure time (when he had any leisure) to the method of takingobservations, of calculating longitudes and latitudes, his knowledgeof arithmetic having fortunately stuck in his mind longer than thatof Latin. These things, I understand, are of the greatest use toa sailor and necessary to an officer. Armed with this knowledge,and the recommendation of his superiors, Barnaby was promoted frombefore the mast and became what they call a mate, and so rose bydegrees until he was at last second captain. But by this time he hadmade many voyages to the West Indies, to New York and Baltimore,and to the West Coast of Africa in the service of his owners, and,I daresay, had procured much wealth for them, though but little forhimself. And, being at Rotterdam upon his owners' business, he waseasily persuaded--being always a stout Protestant, and desirous tostrike a blow in revenge for the ejection of his father--to engageas sailing Master on board the frigate which brought over the Dukeof Monmouth and his company, and then to join him on his landing.This was the sum of what he had to tell me. He had seen many strangepeople, wonderful things, and monsters of the deep: Indians, whomthe cruelty
and avarice of the Spaniards have well-nigh destroyed,the sugar plantations in the islands, negro slaves, negroes free intheir own country, sharks and calamaries (of which I had read andheard)--he had seen all these things, and still remained (in hismind, I mean) as if he had seen nothing. So wonderfully made aresome men that, whatever they see, they are in no way moved.
I say, then, that Barnaby answered my questions, as we rode along,briefly, and as if such matters troubled him not. When I asked him,for example, how the poor miserable slaves liked being captured andsold and put on board ship crowded together for so long a voyage,Barnaby replied that he did not know, his business being to buythem and carry them across the water, and if they rebelled on boardship to shoot them down or flog them; and when they got to Jamaicato sell them: where, if they would not work, they would be floggeduntil they came to a better mind. If a man was born a negro, whatelse, he asked, could he expect?
There was one question which I greatly desired to ask him, but darednot. It concerned the welfare of his soul. Presently, however,Barnaby answered that question, before I put it.
'Sister,' he said, 'my mother's constant affliction concerning me,before I ran away, was as to the salvation of my soul. And truly,that formerly seemed to me so difficult a thing to compass (likenavigation to an unknown port over an unknown sea set everywherewith hidden rocks and liable to sudden gusts) that I could notunderstand how a plain man could ever succeed in it. Wherefore itcomforted me mightily after I got to sea to learn on good authoritythat there is another way, which, compared with my father's, islight and easy. In short, Sister, though he knows it not, there isone religion for lands-folk and another for sailor-folk. A sailor(everybody knows) cannot get so much as a sail bent without cursingand swearing--this, which is desperately wicked ashore, countsfor nothing at all afloat: and so with many other things; and thelong and the short of it is that if a sailor does his duty, fightshis ship like a man, is true to his owners and faithful to hismessmates, it matters not one straw whether he hath daily sworngreat oaths, drunk himself (whenever he went ashore) as helpless asa log, and kissed a pretty girl whenever his good luck gave him thechance--which does, indeed, seldom come to most sailors'--he addedthis with a deep sigh--'I say, Sister, that for such a sailor, whenhis ship goes down with him, or when he gets a grapeshot through hisvitals, or when he dies of fever, as happens often enough in thehot climates, there is no question as to the safety of his soul,but he goes straight to heaven. What he is ordered to do when hegets there,' said Barnaby, 'I cannot say; but it will be something,I doubt not, that a sailor will like to do. No catechism or Latinsyntax. Wherefore, Sister, you can set my mother's heart--poorsoul!--quite at rest on this important matter. You can tell her thatyou have conversed with me, and that I have that very same inwardassurance of which my father speaks so much and at such length. Thevery same assurance it is--tell her that. And beg her to ask me noquestions upon the matter.'
'Well, Barnaby; but art thou sure'----
'It is a heavenly comfort,' he replied, before I had time to finish,'to have such an assurance. For why? A man that hath it doth nevermore trouble himself about what shall happen to him after he isdead. Therefore he goes about his duty with an easy mind; and so,Sister, no more upon this head, if you love me and desire peace ofmind for my mother.'
So nothing more was said upon that subject then or afterwards. Asailor to be exempted by right of his calling from the religion ofthe landsman! 'Tis a strange and dangerous doctrine. But, if allsailors believe it, yet how can it be? This question, I confess, istoo high for me. And as for my mother, I gave her Barnaby's message,begging her at the same time not to question him further. And shesighed, but obeyed.
Presently Barnaby asked me if we had any money.
I had none, and I knew that my mother could have but little. Ofcourse, my father never had any. I doubt if he had possessed asingle penny since his ejection.
'Well,' said Barnaby, 'I thought to give my money to mother. But Inow perceive that if she has it she will give it to Dad; and, if hehas it, he will give it all to the Duke for the Cause--wherefore,Sister, do you take it and keep it, not for me, but to be expendedas seemeth you best.' He lugged out of his pocket a heavy bag. 'Hereis all the money I have saved in ten years. Nay--I am not as somesailors, one that cannot keep a penny in purse, but must needs flingall away. Here are two hundred and fifty gold pieces. Take them,Alice. Hang the bag round thy neck, and never part with it, day ornight. And say nothing about the money either to mother or to Dad,for he will assuredly do with it as I have said. A time may comewhen thou wilt want it.'
Two hundred and fifty gold pieces! Was it possible that Barnabycould be so rich? I took the bag and hung it round my waist--notmy neck--by the string which he had tied above the neck, and, asit was covered by my mantle, nobody ever suspected that I had thistreasure. In the end, as you shall hear, it seemed to be useful.
It was now broad daylight, and the sun was up. As we drew nearBridport there stood a man in the road armed with a halbert.
'Whither go ye, good people?' he asked. 'What is your business?'
'Friend,' said Barnaby, flourishing his oaken staff, 'we ride uponour own business. Stand aside, or thou mayest henceforth have nomore business to do upon this earth!'
'Ride on then--ride on,' he replied, standing aside with greatmeekness. This was one of the guards whom they posted everywhereupon the roads in order to stop the people who were flocking to thecamp. In this way many were sent back, and many were arrested ontheir way to join Monmouth.
Now, as we drew near to Bridport, the time being about four o'clock,we heard the firing of guns and a great shouting.
'They have begun the fighting,' said Barnaby. 'I knew it would notbe long a-coming.'
It was, in fact, the first engagement, when the Dorsetshire Militiawere driven out of Bridport by the Duke's troops, and there wouldhave been a signal victory at the very outset but for the cowardiceof Lord Grey, who ran away with the Horse.
Well, it was a strange and a wonderful thing to think that close athand were men killing each other on the Sabbath; yea, and some lyingwounded on the roads; and that civil war had again begun.
'Let us push on,' said Humphrey, 'out of the way of these troops.They are but country lads all of them. If they retreat, they willrun; and if they run they will be seized with a panic, and will runall the way back to Lyme, trampling on everything that is in theroad.'
This was sound advice, which we followed, taking an upper trackwhich brought us into the high road a mile or so nearer Charmouth.
I do not think there can be anywhere a finer road than that whichruns from Charmouth to Lyme. It runneth over high hills, sometimesabove the sea, which rolls far below, and sometimes above a greatlevel inland plain, the name of which I have forgotten. The highestof the hills is called Golden Cap; the reason why was plainly shownthis morning when the sky was clear and the sun was shining fromthe south-east full upon this tall pico. When we got into this roadwe found it full of young fellows, lusty and well-conditioned, allmarching, running, walking, shouting, and singing on their way tojoin Monmouth. Some were adorned with flowers, some wore the bluefavour of the Duke, some had cockades in their hats, and some againwere armed with musket or with sword; some carried pikes, someknives tied on to long poles, some had nothing but thick cudgels,which they brandished valiantly. At sight of these brave fellows myfather lifted his head and waved his hand, crying 'A Monmouth! aMonmouth! Follow me, brave lads!' just as if he had been a captainencouraging his men to charge.
The church of Lyme standeth high upon the cliff which faces the sea;it is on the eastern side of the town, and before you get to thechurch, on the way from Charmouth, there is a broad field also onthe edge of the cliff. It was this field that was the first camp ofMonmouth's men. There were no tents for the men to lie in, but therewere waggons filled, I suppose, with munitions of war; there werebooths where things were sold, such as hot sausages fried over acharcoal fire, fried fish, lobsters and periwinkles, cold ba
con andpork, bread, cheese, and such like, and barrels of beer and cideron wooden trestles. The men were haggling for the food and drink,and already one or two seemed fuddled. Some were exercising in theuse of arms; some were dancing, and some singing. And no thought orrespect paid at all to the Sabbath. Oh! was this the pious and godlycamp which I had expected?
'Sister,' said Barnaby, 'this is a godly and religious place towhich the wisdom of Dad hath brought thee. Perhaps he meaneth theeto lie in the open like the lads.'
'Where is the Duke?' asked my father, looking wrathfully at theserevellers and Sabbath-breakers.
'The Duke lies at the George Inn,' said Barnaby. 'I will show theway.'
In the blue parlour of the George the Duke was at that time holdinga council. There were different reports as to the Bridport affair.Already it was said that Lord Grey was unfit to lead the Horse,having been the first to run away; and some said that the Militiawere driven out of the town in a panic, and some that they made astand, and that our men had fled. I know not what was the truth,and now it matters little, except that the first action of our menbrought them little honour. When the council was finished, the Dukesent word that he would receive Dr. Challis (that was Humphrey) andDr. Comfort Eykin.
So they were introduced to the presence of his Grace, and first myfather--as Humphrey told me--fell into a kind of ecstasy, praisingGod for the landing of the Duke, and foretelling such speedy victoryas would lay the enemies of the country at his feet. He then drewforth a roll of paper in which he had set down, for the informationof the Duke, the estimated number of the disaffected in every townof the south and west of England, with the names of such as could betrusted not only to risk their own bodies and estates in the Cause,but would stir up and encourage their friends. There were so many onthese lists that the Duke's eyes brightened as he read them.
'Sir,' he said, 'if these reports can be depended upon, we areindeed made men. What is your opinion, Dr. Challis?'
'My opinion, Sir, is that these are the names of friends andwell-wishers; if they see your Grace well supported at the outsetthey will flock in; if not, many of them will stand aloof.'
'Will Sir Christopher join me?' asked the Duke.
'No, Sir; he is now seventy-five years of age.'
The Duke turned away. Presently he returned to the lists and askedmany more questions.
'Sir,' said my father, at length, 'I have given you the names ofall that I know who are well affected to the Protestant Cause; theyare those who have remained faithful to the ejected Ministers. Manya time have I secretly preached to them. One thing is wanting: theassurance that your Grace will bestow upon us liberty of conscienceand freedom of worship. Else will not one of them move hand or foot.'
'Why,' said the Duke, 'for what other purpose am I come? Assurethem, good friend, assure them in my name; make the most solemnpledge that is in your power and in mine.'
'In that case, Sir,' said my father, 'I will at once write letterswith my own hand to the brethren everywhere. There are many honestcountry lads who will carry the letters by ways where they are notlikely to be arrested and searched. And now, Sir, I pray your leaveto preach to these your soldiers. They are at present drinking,swearing, and breaking the Sabbath. The campaign which should bebegun with prayer and humiliation for the sins of the country hathbeen begun with many deadly sins, with merriment, and with fooling.Suffer me, then, to preach to them.'
'Preach, by all means,' said the Duke. 'You shall have the parishchurch. I fear, Sir, that my business will not suffer me to havethe edification of your sermon, but I hope that it will tend to thesoberness and earnestness of my men. Forgive them, Sir, for theirlightness of heart. They are for the most part young. Encourage themby promises rather than by rebuke. And so, Sir, for this occasion,farewell!'
In this way my father obtained the wish of his heart, and preachedonce more in a church before the people who were the young soldiersof Monmouth's army.
I did not hear that sermon, because I was asleep. It was in tones ofthunder that my father preached to them. He spoke of the old war,and the brave deeds that their fathers had done under Cromwell;theirs was the victory. Now, as then, the victory should be theirs,if they carried the spirit of faithfulness into battle. He warnedthem of their sins, sparing none; and, in the end, he concludedwith such a denunciation of the King as made all who heard it, andhad been taught to regard the King's Majesty as sacred, open theirmouths and gape upon each other; for then, for the first time, theytruly understood what it was that they were engaged to do.
While my father waited to see the Duke, Barnaby went about lookingfor a lodging. The town is small, and the houses were all filled,but he presently found a cottage (call it rather a hut) on theshore beside the Cobb, where, on promise of an extravagant payment,the fisherman's wife consented to give up her bed to my mother andmyself. Before the bargain was concluded, I had laid myself downupon it and was sound asleep.
So I slept the whole day; though outside there was such a tramplingon the beach, such a landing of stores and creaking of chains, asmight have awakened the Seven Sleepers. But me nothing could awaken.
In the evening I woke up refreshed. My mother was already awake, butfor weariness could not move out of her chair. The good woman of thecottage, a kindly soul, brought me rough food of some kind with adrink of water--the army had drunk up all the milk, eaten all thecheese, the butter, the eggs, and the pork, beef and mutton, in theplace. And then Humphrey came and asked if I would go with him intothe town to see the soldiers. So I went, and glad I was to see thesight. But Lord! to think that it was the Sabbath evening! For themain street of Lyme was full of men, swaggering with long swords attheir sides and some with spurs--feathers in their hats, and pistolsstuck in their belts--all were talking loud, as I am told is thecustom in a camp of soldiers. Outside the George there was a barrelon a stand, and vendors and drawers ran about with cans, fetchingand carrying the liquor for which the men continually called. Thenat the door of the George there appeared the Duke himself with hisfollowing of gentlemen. All rose and huzzaed while the Duke camedown the steps and turned towards the camp outside the town.
I saw his face very well as he passed. Indeed, I saw him many timesafterwards, but I declare that my heart sank when first I gazed uponhim as he stood upon the steps of the George Inn. For on his face,plain to read, was the sadness of coming ruin. I say I knew fromthat moment what would be his end. Nay, I am no prophetess, nor amI a witch to know beforehand the counsels of the Almighty; yet theLord hath permitted by certain signs the future to become apparentto those who know how to read them. In the Duke of Monmouth thesigns were a restless and uneasy eye, an air of preoccupation, atrembling mouth and a hesitating manner. There was in him nothing ofthe confidence of one who knows that fortune is about to smile uponhim. This, I say, was my first thought about the Duke, and the firstthought is prophecy.
There sat beside the benches a secretary, or clerk, who took downthe names of recruits. The Duke stopped and looked on. A young man,in a sober suit of brown, in appearance different from the countrylads, was giving in his name.
'Daniel Foe, your Grace,' said the clerk, looking up. 'He is fromLondon.'
'From London,' the Duke repeated. 'I have many friends in London.I expect them shortly. Thou art a worthy lad and deservestencouragement.' So he passed on his way.