CHAPTER XIV.
THE VISION OF THE BASKET
Suddenly we heard footsteps, as of those who are running, and my father's voice speaking loud.
'Sing, O Daughter of Zion! Shout, O Israel! Be glad and rejoice with all the heart!' —
'Now, in the name of Heaven,' cried Sir Christopher, 'what meaneth this?'
'The Arm of the Lord! The Deliverance of Israel!'
He burst upon us, dragging a man with him by the arm. In the twilight I could only see, at first, that it was a broad, thick-set man. But my father's slender form looked taller as he waved his arms and cried aloud. Had he been clad in a sheepskin, he would have resembled one of those ancient Prophets whose words were always in his mouth.
'Good friend,' said Sir Christopher, 'what meaneth these cries? Whom have we here?'
Then the man with my father stepped forward and took off his hat. Why, I knew him at once; though it was ten years since I had seen him last! 'Twas my brother Barnaby – none other – come home again. He was now a great strong man – a stouter have I never seen, though he was somewhat under the middle height, broad in the shoulders, and thick of chest. Beside him Robin, though reasonable in breadth, showed like a slender sapling. But he had still the same good-natured face, though now much broader. It needed no more than the first look to know my brother Barnaby again.
'Barnaby,' I cried, 'Barnaby, hast thou forgotten me?' I caught one of his great hands – never, surely, were there bigger hands than Barnaby's! 'Hast thou forgotten me?'
'Why,' he said slowly – 'twas ever a boy slow of speech and of understanding – 'belike,'tis Sister.' He kissed my forehead. 'It is Sister,' he said, as if he were tasting a cup of ale and was pronouncing on its quality. 'How dost thou, Sister? Bravely, I hope. Thou art grown, Sister. I have seen my mother, and – and – she does bravely, too; though I left her crying. 'Tis their way, the happier they be.'
'Barnaby?' said Sir Christopher, 'is it thou, scapegrace? Where hast thou – But first tell us what has happened. Briefly, man.'
'In two words, Sir: the Duke of Monmouth landed the day before yesterday at Lyme Regis with my Lord Grey and a company of a hundred – of whom I was one.'
The Duke had landed! Then what Robin expected had come to pass! And my brother Barnaby was with the insurgents! My heart beat fast.
'The Duke of Monmouth hath landed!' Sir Christopher repeated, and sat down again, as one who knows not what may be the meaning of the news.
'Ay, Sir, the Duke hath landed. We left Holland on the 24th of May, and we made the coast at Lyme at daybreak on Thursday the 11th. 'Tis now, I take it, Saturday. The Duke had with him on board ship Lord Grey, Mr. Andrew Fletcher of Saltoun, Mr. Heywood Dare of Taunton' —
'I know the man,' said Sir Christopher, 'for an impudent, loud-tongued fellow.'
'Perhaps he was, Sir,' said Barnaby, gravely. 'Perhaps he was, but now' —
'How "was"?'
'He was shot on Thursday evening by Mr. Fletcher for offering him violence with a cane, and is now dead.'
''Tis a bad beginning. Go on, Barnaby.'
'The Duke had also Mr. Ferguson, Colonel Venner, Mr. Chamberlain, and others whom I cannot remember. First we set Mr. Dare and Mr. Chamberlain ashore at Seatown, whence they were to carry intelligence of the rising to the Duke's friends. The Duke landed at seven o'clock with his company, in seven boats. First, he fell on his knees and prayed aloud. Then he drew his sword, and we all marched after to the market-place, where he raised his flag and caused the Declaration to be read. Here it is, your Honour.' He lugged out a copy of the Declaration, which Sir Christopher put aside, saying that he would read it in the morning.
'Then we tossed our hats and shouted "A Monmouth! A Monmouth!" Sixty stout young fellows 'listed on the spot. Then we divided our forces, and began to land the cannon – four pretty pieces as you could wish to see – and the arms, of which I doubt if we have enough, and the powder – two hundred and fifty barrels. The Duke lay on Thursday night at the George. Next day, before dawn, the country people began flocking in.'
'What gentlemen have come in?'
'I know not, Sir – my duty was most of the day on board. In the evening I received leave to ride home, and indeed, Sir Christopher, had orders to carry the Duke's Declaration to yourself. And now we shall be well rid of the King, the Pope, and the Devil!'
'Because,' said my father, solemnly – 'because with lies ye have made the hearts of the righteous sad whom I have not made sad.'
'And what doest thou among this goodly company, friend Barnaby?'
'I am to be a Captain in one of the regiments,' said Barnaby, grinning with pride: 'though a sailor, yet can I fight with the best. My Colonel is Mr. Holmes; and my Major, Mr. Parsons. On board the frigate I was master and navigated her.'
'There will be knocks, Barnaby; knocks, I doubt.'
'By your Honour's leave, I have been where knocks were flying for ten years, and I will take my share, remembering still the treatment of my father and the poverty of my mother.'
'It is rebellion, Barnaby! – rebellion!'
'Why, Sir, Oliver Cromwell was a rebel. And your Honour fought in the army of the Earl of Essex – and what was he but a rebel?'
I wondered to hear my brother speak with so much boldness, who ten years before had bowed low and pulled his hair in presence of his Honour. Yet Sir Christopher seemed to take this boldness in good part.
'Barnaby,' he said, 'thou art a stout and proper lad, and I doubt not thy courage – nay, I see it in thy face, which hath resolution in it and yet is modest; no ruffler or boaster art thou, friend Barnaby. Yet – yet – if rebellion fail – even rebellion in a just cause – then those who rise lose their lives in vain, and the cause is lost, until better times.' This he said as one who speaketh to himself. I saw him look upon his grandson. 'The King is – a Papist,' he said, 'that is most true. A Papist should not be suffered to rule this country. Yet to rise in rebellion! Have a care, lad! What if the time be not yet ripe? How know we who will join the Duke?'
'The people are flocking to his standard by thousands,' said Barnaby. 'When I rode away last night the Duke's secretaries were writing down their names as fast as they could be entered; they were landing the arms and already exercising the recruits. And such a spirit they show, Sir, it would do your heart good only once to witness!'
Now, as I looked at Barnaby, I became aware that he was not only changed in appearance, but that he was also very finely dressed – namely, in a scarlet coat and a sword with a silken sash, with laced ruffles, a gold-laced hat, a great wig, white breeches, and a flowered waistcoat. In the light of day, as I afterwards discovered, there were stains of wine visible upon the coat, and the ruffles were torn, and the waistcoat had marks upon it as of tar. One doth not, to be sure, expect in the sailing master of a frigate the same neatness as in a gallant of Saint James's. Yet, our runaway lad must have prospered.
'What doth the Duke intend?' Sir Christopher asked him.
'Indeed, Sir, I know not. 'Tis said by some that he will raise the West Country; and by some that he will march north into Cheshire, where he hath many friends; and by others that he will march upon London, and call upon all good Protestants to rise and join him. We look to have an army of twenty thousand within a week. As for the King, it is doubted whether he can raise a paltry five thousand to meet us. Courage, Dad' – he dared to call his father, the Rev. Comfort Eykin, Doctor of Divinity, 'Dad!' – and he clapped him lustily upon the shoulder; 'thou shalt mount the pulpit yet, ay, of Westminster Abbey if it so please you!'
His father paid no heed to this conversation, being wrapt in his own thoughts.
'I know not,' said Sir Christopher, 'what to think. The news is sudden. And yet – and yet' —
'We waste time,' cried my father, stamping his foot. 'Oh! we waste the time talking. What helps it to talk? Every honest man must now be up and doing. Why, it is a plain duty laid upon us. The finger of Heaven is visible, I say, in this. Out of the very sins of Charles Stuart hath the instrument for the destruction of his race been forged. A plain duty, I say. As for me, I must preach and exhort. As for my son, who was dead and yet liveth' – he laid his hand upon Barnaby's shoulder – 'time was when I prayed that he might become a godly minister of God's Word. Now I perceive clearly that the Lord hath ways of His own. My son shall fight and I shall preach. Perhaps he will rise and become another Cromwell!' – Barnaby grinned.
'Sir,' said my father, turning hotly upon his Honour, 'I perceive that thou art lukewarm. If the Cause be the Lord's, what matter for the chances? The issue is in the hands of the Lord. As for me and my household, we will serve the Lord. Yea, I freely offer myself, and my son, and my wife, and my daughter – even my tender daughter – to the Cause of the Lord. Young men and maidens, old men and children, the Voice of the Lord calleth!'
Nobody made reply; my father looked before him, as if he saw in the twilight of the summer night a vision of what was to follow. His face, as he gazed, changed. His eyes, which were fierce and fiery, softened. His lips smiled. Then he turned his face and looked upon each of us in turn – upon his son and upon his wife and upon me, upon Robin and upon Sir Christopher. 'It is, indeed,' he said, 'the Will of the Lord. Why, what though the end be violent death to me, and to all of us ruin and disaster? We do but share the afflictions foretold in the Vision of the Basket of Summer Fruit. What is death? What is the loss of earthly things compared with what shall follow to those who obey the Voice that calls? Children, let us up and be doing. As for me, I shall have a season of freedom before I die. For twenty-five years have I been muzzled or compelled to whisper and mutter in corners and hiding-places. I have been a dumb dog. I, whose heart was full and overflowing with the sweet and precious Word of God; I, to whom it is not life but death to sit in silence! Now I shall deliver my soul before I die. Sirs, the Lord hath given to every man a weapon or two with which to fight. To me he hath given an eye and a tongue for discerning and proclaiming the word of sacred doctrine. I have been muzzled – a dumb dog, I say – though sometimes I have been forced to climb among the hills and speak to the bending tree-tops. Now I shall be free again, and I will speak, and all the ends of the earth shall hear.'
His eyes gleamed, he panted and gasped, and waved his arms.
'As for sister, Dad,' said Barnaby, 'she and mother may bide at home.'
'No; they shall go with me. I offer my wife, my son, my daughter, and myself to the Cause of the Lord.'
'A camp is but a rough place for a woman,' said Barnaby.
'She is offered; she is dedicated; she shall go with us.'
I know not what was in his mind, or why he wished that I should go with him, unless it was a desire to give everything that he had – to hold back nothing – to the Lord; therefore he would give his children as well as himself. As for me, my heart glowed to think that I was even worthy to join in such a Cause. What could a woman do? But that I should find out.
'Robin,' I whispered, ''tis Religion calls. If I am to be among the followers of the Duke, thou wilt not remain behind?'
'Child,' – it was my mother who whispered to me; I had not seen her before – 'Child, let us obey him. Perhaps it will be better for him if we are at his side. And there is Barnaby. But we must not be in their way. We shall find a place to sit aside and wait. Alas! that my son hath returned to us only to go fighting. We will go with them, daughter.'
'We should be better without women,' said Barnaby, grumbling; 'I would as lief have a woman on shipboard as in a camp. To be sure, if Dad has set his heart upon it – and then he will not stay long in camp, where the cursing of the men is already loud enough to scare a preacher out of his cassock. Dad, I say' – But my father was fallen again into a kind of rapture, and heard nothing.
'When doth the Duke begin his march?' he said suddenly.
'I know not. But we shall find him, never fear.'
'I must have speech with him at the earliest possible time. Hours are precious, and we waste them – we waste them.'
'Well, Sir, it is bedtime. To-morrow we can ride; unless, because it is the Sabbath, you would choose to wait till Monday. And as to the women, by your leave, it is madness to bring them to a camp.'
'Wait till Monday? Art thou mad, Barnaby? Art thou mad? Why, I have things to tell the Duke. Shall we waste eight precious hours? Up! let us ride all night. To-morrow is the Sabbath, and I will preach. Yea – I will preach. My soul longeth – yea, even it fainteth, for the Courts of the Lord. Quick! quick! let us mount and ride all night!'
At this moment Humphrey joined us.
'Lads,' said Sir Christopher, 'you are fresh from Holland. Knew you aught of this?'
'Sir,' said Humphrey, 'I confess that I have already told Dr. Eykin what to expect. I knew that the Duke was coming. Robin did not know, because I would not drag him into the conspiracy. I knew that the Duke was coming, and that without delay. I have myself had speech in Amsterdam with his Grace, who comes to restore the Protestant religion and to give freedom of worship to all good Protestant people. His friends have promises of support everywhere. Indeed, Sir, I think that the expedition is well planned, and is certain of support. Success is in the hands of the Lord; but we do not expect that there will be any serious opposition. With submission, Sir, I am under promise to join the Duke. I came over in advance to warn his friends, as I rode from London, of his approach. Thousands are waiting in readiness for him. But, Sir, of all this, I repeat, Robin knew nothing. I have been for three months in the counsels of those who desire to drive forth the Popish King, but Robin have I kept in the dark.'
'Humphrey,' said Robin, reproachfully, 'am not I, also, a Protestant?'
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, they would not go, and to say things which they would not otherwise have said – I think of our midnight ride to Lyme, and of my father there, and of the three weeks' madness which followed. It was some Spirit – whether of good or evil, I cannot say, and I dare not so much as to question – which seized him. That he hurried away to join the Duke on the first news of his landing, without counting the cost or weighing the chances, is easy to be understood. Like Humphrey, he was led by his knowledge of the great numbers who hated the Catholic religion to believe that they, like himself, would rise with one accord. He also remembered the successful rebellion against the first Charles, and expected nothing less than a repetition of that success. This, I know, was what the exiles in Holland thought and believed. The Duke, they said, was the darling of the people; he was the Protestant champion: who would not press forward when he should draw the sword? But what other man – what man in his sober senses would have dragged his wife and daughter with him to the godless riot of a camp? Perhaps he wanted them to share his triumph, to listen while he moved the soldiers, as that ancient hermit Peter moved the people to the Holy Wars? But I know not. He said that I was to be, like Jephthah's daughter, consecrated to the Cause of the Lord; and what he meant by that I never understood.
He was so eager to start upon the journey that he would not wait a moment. The horses must be saddled; we must mount and away. Mark that they were Sir Christopher's horses which we borrowed; this also was noted afterwards for the ruin of that good old man, with other particulars: as that Monmouth's Declaration was found in the house (Barnaby brought it); one of Monmouth's Captains, Barnaby Eykin by name, had ridden from Lyme to Bradford in order to see him; he was a friend of the preacher Dr. Eykin; he was grandfather to one of the rebels and grand-uncle to another; with many other things. But these were enough.
'Surely, surely, friend,' said Sir Christopher, 'thou wilt not take wife and daughter? They cannot help the Cause; they have no place in a 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 – a night'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 a kiss.' He took me in his arms and kissed me on the forehead. 'Thou art, 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 protect thee – and' —
'Sir,' cried Robin quickly, 'by your leave, I alone have the right to go with her and to protect her.'
'Nay, Robin,' I said, 'stay here until Sir Christopher himself bids thee go. That will perhaps be very soon. Remember thy promise. We did not know, Robin, an hour ago, that the promise would be claimed so soon. Robin' – for he murmured – 'I charge thee, remain at home until' —
'I promise thee, Sweetheart.' But he hung his head and looked ashamed.
Sir Christopher, holding my hand, stepped forth upon the grass and looked upwards into the clear sky, where in the transparent twilight we could see a few stars twinkling.
'This, friend Eykin – this, Humphrey,' he said, gravely, 'is a solemn night for all. No more fateful night hath ever fallen upon any of us; no! not that day when I joined Hampden's new regiment and followed with the army of Lord Essex. Granted that we have a righteous cause, we know not that our leader hath in him the root of the matter. To rise against the King is a most weighty matter – fatal if it fail, a dangerous precedent if it succeed. Civil war is, of all wars, the most grievous; to fight under a leader who doth not live after the Laws of God is, methinks, most dangerous. The Duke hath lit a torch which will spread flames everywhere' —
'It is the Voice of the Lord which calleth us!' my father interrupted. 'To-morrow I shall speak again to God's Elect.'
'Sir,' said Humphrey, very seriously, 'I pray you think not that this enterprise hath been rashly entered upon, nor that we depend upon the judgment of the Duke alone. It is, most unhappily, true that his life is sinful, and so is that of Lord Grey, who hath deserted his own lawful wife for her sister. But those who have pushed on the enterprise consider that the Duke is, at least, a true Protestant. They have, moreover, received solid assurances of support from every quarter. You have been kept in the dark from the beginning at my own earnest request, because, though I knew full well your opinion, I would not trouble your peace or endanger your person. Suffer us, then, to depart, and, for yourself, do nothing; and keep – oh! Sir, I entreat you – keep Robin at home until our success leaves no room for doubt.'
'Go, then, go,' said Sir Christopher; 'I have grievous misgivings that all is not well. But go, and Heaven bless the Cause!'
Robin kissed me, whispering that he would follow, and that before many days; and so we mounted and rode forth. In such hot haste did we depart that we took with us no change of raiment or any provision for the journey at all, save that Barnaby, who, as I afterwards found, never forgot the provisions, found time to get together a small parcel of bread and meat, and a flask of Canary, with which to refresh our spirits later on. We even rode away without any money.
My father rode one horse and my mother sat behind him: then I followed, Barnaby marching manfully beside me, and Humphrey rode last. The ways are rough, so that those who ride, even by daylight, go but slowly; and we, riding between high hedges, went much too slowly for my father, who, if he spoke at all, cried out impatiently, 'Quicker! Quicker! we lose the time.'
He sat bending over the horse's head, with rounded shoulders, his feet sticking out on either side, his long white hair and his ragged cassock floating in the wind. In his left hand he carried his Bible as a soldier carries his sword; on his head he wore the black silk cap in which he daily sat at work. He was praying and meditating; he was preparing the sermon which he would deliver in the morning.
Barnaby plodded on beside me: night or day made no difference to him. He slept when he could, and worked when he must. Sailors keep their 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 Duke that if Sir Christopher Challis would only come into camp, old as he 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 – if kisses mean anything. So Robin is thy Sweetheart, Sister: thou art a lucky girl. And we shall have Dad to preach to us. Well, I know not what will happen, but some will be knocked o' the head, and if Dad goes in the way of knocks – But, whatever happens, he will get his tongue again – and so he will be happy.'
'As for preaching,' he went on, speaking with due pauses, because there was no hurry in these dark lanes, and he was never one of those whose words flow easily, 'if he thinks to preach daily, as they say was done in Cromwell's time, I doubt if he will find many to listen, for by the look of the fellows who are crowding into camp they will love the clinking of the can better than the division of the 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 the camp, if you must go there, the better. Women aboard ship are bad enough, 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 shall be 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, so the King's armies will be dispersed at the approach of the Lord's soldiers.'
'That was a vast long time ago, Sister. There is now no such trumpet-work employed in war, and no priests on the march; but plenty of fighting to be done before anything is accomplished. But have no fear. The country is rising. They are sick at heart already of a Popish King. I say not that it will be easy work; but it can be done, 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 needs put up another, I suppose. My father shall have the biggest church in the country to preach in; Humphrey shall be made physician to the new King – nothing less; you shall marry Robin, and he shall be made a Duke or a Lord at least; and I shall have command of the biggest ship in the King's navy, and go to fight the Spaniards, or to trade for 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, as they say. Ask not such a question; as well ask a sailor what will happen to him if his ship is cast away. Some may escape in boats and some by swimming, and some are drowned, and some are cast upon savage shores. Every man must take his chance. Never again ask such a question. Nevertheless, I fear my father will get his neck as far in the noose as I myself. But remember, Sister Alice, do you and my mother keep snug. Let others carry on the rebellion, do you keep snug. For, d'ye see, a man takes his chance, and if there should happen (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 a seaport and so aboard and away while the chase was hot. But for a woman! Keep snug, I say, therefore.'
The night, happily, was clear and fine. A slight breeze was blowing from 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 tremble more than the cold. The road, when we left the highway, which is not often mended in these parts, became a narrow lane full of holes and deep ruts, or else a track across open country. But Barnaby knew the way.
It was about ten of the clock when we began our journey, and it was six in the morning when we finished it. I suppose there are few women 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 wearied with the jogging of the horse, but was sustained by something of the spirit of my father. A wonderful thing it seemed to me that a simple country maid, such as myself, should help in putting down the Catholic King; women there have been who have played great parts in history – Jael, Deborah, Judith, and Esther, for example; but that I should be called (since then I have discovered that I was not called), this, indeed, seemed truly wonderful. Then I was going forth to witness the array of a gallant army about to fight for freedom and for religion, just as they were arrayed forty years before, when Sir Christopher was a young man and rode among them.
My brother, this stout Barnaby, was one of them; my father was one of them; Humphrey was one of them; and in a little while I was very sure (because Robin would feel no peace of mind if I was with the insurgents and he was still at home) my lover would be with them too. And I pictured to myself a holy and serious camp, filled with godly, sober soldiers, listening to sermons and reading the Bible, going forth to battle with hymns upon their lips; and withal so valiant that at their very first onset the battalions of the King would be shattered. Alas! anyone may guess the foolish thoughts of a girl who had no knowledge of the world, nor any experience. Yet all my life I had been taught that Resistance was at times a sacred duty, and that the Divine Right of the (so-called) Lord's Anointed was a vain superstition. So far, therefore, was I better prepared than most women for the work in hand.
When we rode through Sherborne all the folk were a-bed and the streets were empty. From Sherborne our way lay through Yetminster and Evershott to Beaminster, where we watered and rested the horses, and took some of Barnaby's provisions. The country through which we rode was full of memories of the last great war. The castle of Sherborne was twice besieged; once by Lord Bedford, when the Marquis of Hertford held it for the King. That siege was raised; but it was afterwards taken by Fairfax, with its garrison of six hundred soldiers, and was then destroyed, so that it is now a heap of ruins; and as for Beaminster, the town hath never recovered from the great fire when Prince Maurice held it, and it is still half in ruins, though the ivy hath grown over the blackened walls of the burned houses. 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 father walked up and down impatiently, as grudging every minute. Barnaby, for his part, made a leisurely and comfortable meal, eating his bread and meat – of which I had some – and drinking his Canary with relish, as if we were on a journey of pleasure and there was plenty of time for leisurely feeding. Presently he arose with a sigh (the food and wine being all gone), and said that, the horses being now rested, we might proceed. So he lifted my mother into her seat and we went on with the journey, the day now breaking.
The way, I say, was never tedious to me, for I was sustained by the novelty and the strangeness of the thing. Although I had a thousand things to ask Barnaby, it must be confessed that for one who had travelled so far he had marvellous little to tell. I daresay that the deck and cabins of a ship are much the same whether she be on the Spanish Main or in the Bristol Channel, and sailors, even in port, are never an observant race, except of weather and so forth. It was strange, however, only to look upon him and to mark how stout a man he was grown and how strong, and yet how he still spoke like 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 was over, and not to anticipate the certain repetition of the flogging on the morrow. He spoke in the same slow way, as if speech were a thing too precious to be poured out quickly; and there was always sense in what he said (Barnaby was only stupid in the matter of syntax), though he gave me not such answers as I could have wished. However, he confessed, little by little, something of his history and adventures. When he ran away, it was, as we thought, to the port of Bristol, where he presently found a berth as cabin-boy on board a West India-man. In this truly enviable post – everybody on board has a cuff or a kick or a rope's-end for the boy – he continued for some time. 'But,' said Barnaby, 'you are not to think that the rope's-end was half so bad as my father's rod; nor the captain's oath so bad as my father's rebuke; nor the rough work and hard fare so bad as the Latin syntax.' Being so strong, and a hearty, willing lad to boot, he was quickly promoted to be an able seaman, when there were no more rope's-endings for him. Then, having an ambition above his station, and not liking his rude and ignorant companions of the fo'k'sle (which is the fore-part of a ship, where the common sailors sleep and eat), and being so fortunate as to win the good graces of the supercargo first and of the captain next, he applied his leisure time (when he had any leisure) to the method of taking observations, of calculating longitudes and latitudes, his knowledge of arithmetic having fortunately stuck in his mind longer than that of Latin. These things, I understand, are of the greatest use to a sailor and necessary to an officer. Armed with this knowledge, and the recommendation of his superiors, Barnaby was promoted from before the mast and became what they call a mate, and so rose by degrees until he was at last second captain. But by this time he had made 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 for himself. And, being at Rotterdam upon his owners' business, he was easily persuaded – being always a stout Protestant, and desirous to strike a blow in revenge for the ejection of his father – to engage as sailing Master on board the frigate which brought over the Duke of 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 strange people, wonderful things, and monsters of the deep: Indians, whom the cruelty and avarice of the Spaniards have well-nigh destroyed, the sugar plantations in the islands, negro slaves, negroes free in their own country, sharks and calamaries (of which I had read and heard) – he had seen all these things, and still remained (in his mind, I mean) as if he had seen nothing. So wonderfully made are some men that, whatever they see, they are in no way moved.