



Produced by R.G.P.M. van Giesen







[Illustration: cover art]

The Quest of the
"Golden Hope"



BLACKIE & SON LIMITED
50 Old Bailey, LONDON
17 Stanhope Street, GLASGOW

BLACKIE & SON (INDIA) LIMITED
Warwick House, Fort Street, BOMBAY

BLACKIE & SON (CANADA) LIMITED
1118 Bay Street, TORONTO



[Illustration: CAPTAIN JEREMY IS WOUNDED (missing from book)]



The Quest of the
"Golden Hope"
A Seventeenth Century Story of Adventure


BY
PERCY F. WESTERMAN
Author of "East in the _Golden Gain_" "The Third Officer"
"Sea Scouts All" &c.


ILLUSTRATED BY FRANK E. WILES


BLACKIE & SON LIMITED
LONDON AND GLASGOW



By Percy F. Westerman

   Rivals of the Reef.
   A Shanghai Adventure.
   Pat Stobart in the "Golden Dawn".
   The Junior Cadet.
   Captain Starlight.
   The Sea-Girt Fortress.
   On the Wings of the Wind.
   Captured at Tripoli.
   Captain Blundell's Treasure.
   The Third Officer.
   Unconquered Wings.
   The Buccaneers of Boya.
   The Riddle of the Air.
   Chums of the "Golden Vanity".
   The Luck of the "Golden Dawn".
   Clipped Wings.
   The Salving of the "Fusi Yama".
   Winning his Wings.
   A Lively Bit of the Front.
   A Cadet of the Mercantile Marine.
   The Good Ship "Golden Effort".
   East in the "Golden Gain".
   The Quest of the "Golden Hope".
   Sea Scouts Abroad.
   Sea Scouts Up-Channel.
   The Wireless Officer.
   A Lad of Grit.
   The Submarine Hunters.
   Sea Scouts All.
   The Thick of the Fray.
   A Sub and a Submarine.
   Under the White Ensign.
   The Fight for Constantinople.
   With Beatty off Jutland.

Printed in Great Britain by Blackie & Son, Ltd., Glasgow


Contents
       I. OF THE FUGITIVE FROM SEDGEMOOR
      II. THE TWO DRAGOONS ON THE BROCKENHURST ROAD
     III. CAPTAIN JEREMY'S SURPRISE
      IV. THE _MADRE DE DIOS_
       V. THE CHART
      VI. A MIDNIGHT INTRUDER
     VII. THE CAVE IN THE LONELY HEATH
    VIII. CONCERNING THE EVENTS THAT PROMPTED ME
             TO A DESPERATE RESOLVE
      IX. FLIGHT
       X. IN THE HOLD
      XI. MY FIRST DAY AT SEA
     XII. A BRUSH WITH ALGERINES
    XIII. OF THE MYSTERIOUS SHIP IN THE MIDST OF THE OCEAN
     XIV. "CAPTAIN 'ENERY"
      XV. WE ARRIVE AT TREASURE ISLAND
     XVI. A HASTY RECALL
    XVII. ATTACKED BY BUCCANEERS
   XVIII. "REPEL BOARDERS!"
     XIX. BLOWN UP
      XX. THE REPULSE AT THE STOCKADE
     XXI. CAPTAIN CRADDOCK
    XXII. A LEAP FOR LIFE
   XXIII. THE PERILS OF THE SHOAL
    XXIV. MORE TROUBLE IN SIGHT
     XXV. WE ARRIVE AT THE HIDING-PLACE OF THE TREASURE
    XXVI. UNTOLD WEALTH
   XXVII. THE MUTINY OF THE _NEPTUNE_
  XXVIII. THE FATE OF THE MUTINEERS
    XXIX. HOMEWARD BOUND
     XXX. THE LAST OF MY SWORN ENEMY
    XXXI. THE BURNING SHIP
   XXXII. CONSTANCE'S STORY
  XXXIII. SAFE IN PORT


Illustrations
------
CAPTAIN JEREMY IS WOUNDED (Frontispiece)
I DESCENDED HAND OVER HAND
THE TREASURE OF THE "MADRE DE DIOS"
I SHOUTED TO THE MEN TO HEAVE ROUNDLY
------
MAP OF THE ISLAND


[Illustration: MAP OF THE ISLAND]


   A The _Golden Hope_ in harbour.
   B The stockade.
   C Path taken by first expedition in search of the treasure.
   CC Path taken by successful expedition.
   D Wreck of the _Madre de Dios._
   E Cave where Clifford was held prisoner.
   F Shoal where Clifford was attacked by octopus.
   G Site of the master gunner's ambuscade.
   H Buccaneers' harbour and settlement.
   K Wreck of the _Black Arrow._
   L False landmark erected by Captain Jeremy's orders.
   M Wreck of _Neptune_ owing to false bearings.
   N Where the treasure was found.
   O Cove where Cherry and the long-boat's crew landed.
   P Deep water channel inside shoals, unknown to Captain Jeremy.
   Q Existing path between buccaneers'
         harbour and south side of island.
   R Bearing for navigating channel.
      The track of the _Golden Hope_
         into the harbour is shown by the black line.
      The shaded portion of the shoals were
         uncovered at low water.


THE QUEST OF THE
"GOLDEN HOPE"




CHAPTER I

Of the Fugitive from Sedgemoor


Well do I, Clifford Hammond, remember the 10th day of July in the
year of grace 1685. Rebellion, though some would have it 'twas
justifiable invasion, had appeared in the land. Monmouth had landed
in Dorset, and had raised an army. How he fared, the men of
Hampshire knew not as yet, though there were many who prayed for the
successful issue of his venture.

Little did I think, living on the borders of the New Forest, that
the outbreak in the West would affect the welfare of our house. Yet
it did, though, I must confess, indirectly; for had it not been for
the routing of the rebels at Sedgemoor, the voyage of the _Golden
Hope_ would not have been undertaken, nor would I be able to relate
the desperate adventures of her crew in gaining the object of the
expedition. But I am forestalling my story.

Our family, the Hammonds of Brockenhurst, had lived within the
bounds of the Forest for centuries, as witness the name of Geoffroi
Hammond, who served with distinction at the taking of the _Great
Christopher_ in the sea-fight of Sluys; or of Thomas Hammond, who
fought at Agincourt: but I would make it plain that the Hammonds of
Brockenhurst have no connection with the rebel Colonel
Hammond--though, to his credit be it said, he treated His Majesty
King Charles the Martyr, during his captivity in the Isle of Wight,
with far more courtesy than did his brother officers.

My father, Captain Richard Hammond--"Foul-weather Dick", as he was
affectionately dubbed in the fleet--had had an adventurous career
both ashore and afloat. Beginning with the fatal fight at Naseby
when he was but a young cornet of horse of barely twenty years of
age, he had fought Dutch, Algerines, and, sad to relate, his
fellow-countrymen; but for the last ten years he had retired from
the King's service, and had settled down to a quiet country life in
his native Hampshire.

Thanks to his father's devotion to his sovereign, the exchequer of
the Hammond family had been sadly depleted. During the
ever-to-be-abhorred Rebellion, plate, jewels, money, all went, and
'twas fortunate that our lands had not been confiscated by the
Commonwealth. My father had to rely upon the unkept promises of His
Majesty King Charles II as a reward for the sacrifices of our house
towards the royal cause; nevertheless, the meagre pay of a sea
captain in the King's fleet, together with the income from the shore
estate, sufficed to keep us in comparative ease.

My father married late in life. His spouse, the daughter of Sir
Digby Tall (a baronet as impecunious as the majority of his class at
this time), died within three years of their union, leaving two
children.

At the time my story opens I, Clifford Hammond, was sixteen years of
age, my sister Constance being eighteen months my junior. She was a
tall, sprightly girl, with fresh complexion, blue eyes, and rich
golden hair, being, 'twas said, the image of her mother in her
youth.

No one would readily have taken Constance and me for sister and
brother, for I was olive-featured, with straight, dark-brown hair
and grey eyes; tall in stature, yet inclined to slenderness.

On the particular morning to which I have referred, Constance and I
had gone into Lyndhurst to give orders to a carrier respecting the
purchase of a certain article at Southampton. What the nature of the
purchase was we did not at the time know, although every month,
summer and winter, year in and year out, my father had a similar
package brought in by the regular carrier. Here I may mention that
my sire, in spite of his sixty odd years, was a wonderfully
well-preserved man, his dark-brown locks (for he scorned to wear a
peruke) being innocent of any trace of grey hairs. Yet I call to
mind the occasion, when I was yet a child of tender years, upon
which my father had perforce to attend the Verderers' Court at
Lyndhurst with his hair of a rusty, iron-grey hue. That was about
the time that Giles Shearing's wain was upset at Redbridge, and many
a housewife in Lyndhurst and Brockenhurst who relied on the
Southampton carrier had to go short-handed. I no longer wonder at
the coincidence.

As we left Lyndhurst town on our return journey, I leading a shaggy
Forest pony on which my sister, holding the required purchase, was
perched, a troop of horse came riding with loose rein and hot spur
through the quiet High Street.

They were fierce-looking fellows, with bronzed features, begrimed
with sweat and dust; upturned moustachios, and flowing locks. They
wore red frock-coats trimmed with white facings, the skirts buttoned
back to enable them to sit the better in the saddle; dark-green
breeches, long riding-boots of buff leather, and broad-brimmed
beaver hats, looped up on one side. All were armed with a broadsword
and a pair of pistols, while not a few carried snaphances in a
bucket at the right side of the saddle, or slung across their backs.

This much I noticed as they tore onwards with undiminished pace
through the narrow street, till they were lost to view in a cloud of
dust on the Southampton Road.

"There's some news for Cap'n Hammond, Master Clifford!" shouted
Chambers the blacksmith from across the way. "They say as how Duke
Monmouth's been beaten, and half his army cut to pieces. Those
redcoats are Cornbury's Dragoons, and they are hot on the track of
the Hampshire rebels. Heaven help the Mayor of Lymington and the
score of men he sent to the West!"

Young as I was, I realized that it was a case of woe to the
vanquished. Although our county had not taken up the cause of the
rebel Duke to any thing like the extent of Dorset, Somerset, and
Wiltshire, several of the towns in the western division of Hampshire
had sent small contingents to aid Monmouth's cause, and Lymington
had been the chief offender in this respect. Fortunately for us,
Brockenhurst had held aloof, though the villagers were none too
kindly disposed towards King James's measures.

We hastened on our homeward journey, eager to convey the momentous
news to my father. For the first half of the way the road ran
between dense masses of trees, intersected by shady glades, in which
the leaves of last year still littered the ground. Ever and anon a
herd of fallow deer would dash across the highway, or a troop of
Forest ponies would scamper betwixt the trees, fearing in every
human being a possible master. Pigs also roamed in great numbers,
for though it was the time of fence month[1] within the Forest, so
lax had the jurisdiction of the Verderers' Court become that the
commoners paid less heed to the regulations than they had for years
past.

At length we emerged from the forest and gained the rolling expanse
of heath, where, to right and left, as far as the eye could reach,
the heather and the gorse gleamed in the bright sunshine like a sea
of purple and gold.

"See, there's a man riding as fast as his horse can carry him!"
exclaimed Constance, pointing down the bridle path that, running
between Ring wood and Beaulieu, crosses the highway near the place
where we were.

"Aye, he seems in a mighty hurry," I replied, shading my eyes from
the glare.

"Perchance 'tis another of those horse soldiers?"

"Nay, he wears no red coat," I answered, reassuring her; but though
I did not mention it, I perceived two men riding a long distance
behind the first horseman as if in pursuit, and, unless my eyes
deceived me, they were dragoons.

"Let us hasten," urged Constance, as if filled with some
forebodings, though she was usually a strong-minded girl.

"He'll not molest us," said I. "He is too intent on his errand, I
trow."

Nearer and nearer came the fugitive--for fugitive he was--till I
could distinguish his features. Then my heart gave a sudden bound,
for I recognized the man: it was Jeremy Miles, a master mariner of
Lymington, and one of the townsfolk who had gone west to join the
rebel standard.

Constance knew him also, for she exclaimed, "'Tis Captain Miles! And
see, Clifford, there are soldiers after him!"

Something compelled me to stop and await the arrival of the
fugitive, and, holding the pony's bridle by one hand, I assisted
Constance to dismount.

As we stood we were hidden from the bridle path by a gorse-covered
bank that, being but breast high, was sufficiently low to enable us
to command the track on which the horsemen were riding without being
seen by them until they gained the highway.

Not for one moment did I expect to be in danger, for Miles was
riding strongly and evidently holding his own, while 'twas unlikely
that the troopers, keen on his pursuit, would draw rein to molest a
boy and a girl.

The fugitive was now crossing the white dusty road within twenty
paces of us, when suddenly his horse sank under him, throwing its
rider headlong to the ground. But before the expiring animal gave a
last convulsive shudder, Miles had sprung to his feet and was
looking dazedly towards his pursuers, now but a mile behind.

"Captain Miles!" I shouted, urging my pony forward. "Captain Miles!
Take Trotter and ride him across the heath."

"Why, 'tis Master Hammond!" he exclaimed. "Nay, lad, that beast
would not ship a crew like me: But they'll have their work cut out
to take me. Come, young sir, I'll trouble you to give a hand with my
mare, if you will."

Together, with Constance helping us, we dragged the body of the
animal off the road, and hid it in a slight depression behind some
furze bushes. Then hurriedly we strove to conceal the tell-tale
tracks on the dusty road.

The dragoons were now only a bare quarter-mile away.


[1] The period between the 20th June and the 20th July, during which
time the ancient right of "Pannage", i.e. turning out pigs to feed
on acorns and beech-mast, within the New Forest was withheld.




CHAPTER II

The Two Dragoons on the Brockenhurst Road


"Leave me and shape your own course, Master Hammond!" exclaimed the
Captain composedly, for he had regained both his breath and his
wits. "You can do no more, and I'll warrant I can shift for myself."

So saying, he wriggled along the ground over the bank that screened
us from the soldiers, and lay hidden in the bracken on the same side
of the highway as the troopers.

Meanwhile, filled with anxiety on the behalf of Jeremy Miles--for he
was always a general favourite amongst the youths in and around
Lymington--Constance and I resumed our way, endeavouring to appear
as unconcerned as possible.

Less than a minute must have passed since we saw Captain Miles's
great frame disappear beneath the bracken, when we heard the clatter
of the troopers' horses as their hoofs struck the road. Knowing that
it would ill play our part to refrain from curiosity, we stopped and
looked back at the pursuing soldiers.

They were of the same troop that we had seen in Lyndhurst a short
half-hour ago. Great, swarthy men they were, hardened to cruelty by
reason of their service at Tangiers, and, though I knew it not at
the time, ready to practise the barbarities acquired from the Moors
upon their own countrymen, as many a poor peasant of the marshes of
Somerset had learned to his cost.

"Curse him!" exclaimed one, with an oath. "Where hath he gone? Are
we to let a guinea slip through our fingers after all our trouble?"

"He's not far away," replied his comrade, pointing with an
exclamation of triumph to the partially concealed tracks on the
road. "See, he hath had a fall. Methinks we have him by the heels."

"'Tis like looking for a sprat in the ocean," returned the first
trooper, gazing across the wilderness of gorse. "So long as he stuck
to his mount we could have tracked him. 'Tis what I feared: he hath
made off afoot."

"Here, sirrah," he shouted to me, urging his horse down the road to
where we were, "hast seen aught of a horseman riding like
Beelzebub?"

"Nay," I replied truthfully enough; "no horseman has passed this
way."

"You young prevaricator!" he exclaimed, tapping his pistols
significantly. "You do but dissemble. You know whither that man
went."

I kept silence.

Suddenly the other trooper, who had forced his horse through the
gorse by the side of the road, shouted, "Here's a find, David. The
rogue hath lost his horse."

"Then you saw him fall," continued the dragoon who had overtaken us.
"Back you come with me, you young rebel!"

"I am no rebel," I replied, as stoutly as I could force myself to
speak.

"Back, I say!" he repeated, ignoring my protest, and producing a
pistol from his holster. There was no help for it. I had to go with
him. "Run off home, Constance," I said in a low voice; "I shall be
all right."

"No, you don't, you little wench!" exclaimed the villain. "You'll
come in useful to make this young rebel open his mouth. Come on,
both of you, I say!"

I looked at Constance. She was deathly white, yet she spoke not a
word, although by the expression of her eyes she said, as plainly as
if she had spoken, "Do not tell where he is."

"Mum's the word, eh?" was the greeting of the second trooper, as we
were told to stand still near the scene of our meeting with the
fugitive, Captain Miles. "Shall I tell 'em about that stubborn young
rebel at Dulverton--it was Dulverton, wasn't it, David?--who thought
to deceive one of Cornbury's Dragoons? A little tow tied to his
thumbs did the trick, and I'll swear he's nursing his burns now.
There's no tow to be had hereabouts, but I'll warrant a little dry
heather will suffice. Now, sirrah, which way did the rebel go?"

"What! you won't answer?" he continued, as he dismounted from his
horse, his comrade following his example. Whipping out his
broadsword, he struck me a heavy blow on the ankle with the flat of
the weapon. The pain was intense, yet, though an involuntary cry
escaped me, I kept my lips tightly closed.

I gave a hasty look right and left along the straight white road.
Not a creature was in sight. Even if there had been, 'twas difficult
to imagine that a solitary wayfarer would dare to interfere with two
armed and powerful ruffians.

"Pluck me a wisp of dry grass," said my tormentor.

"Nay, Jim," replied the other, "we've no time to waste in that
fashion. If the rebel is making off afoot, every moment is precious.
I know of a way." And, thrusting his huge fingers through my
sister's golden locks, he shouted, "Now, sirrah, answer, or I'll
pull out a handful of hair, to remember this pleasant meeting."

Constance cried with pain as the villain slowly tightened his grip.
Knowing he was quite capable of carrying out his threat, I was torn
with conflicting thoughts, till my brave sister exclaimed, "Not a
word, Clifford!"

Possibly the rogue answering to the name of Jim realized my
desperate intention, for at the risk of my life I was on the point
of dashing my clenched fist in the face of Constance's assailant.
With his right hand the dragoon gripped me by the nape of the neck,
so that in his powerful grasp I was as helpless as a kitten; while
with his left he caught and slowly twisted my wrist.

Suddenly a huge, dark form sprang from the concealing heather, and
like an arrow from a bow Jeremy Miles flung himself upon the dragoon
whose fingers were still grasping Constance's tresses.

I saw it all as clearly as if 'twere the work of minutes rather than
of one instant. A swinging blow of the Captain's ponderous fist, and
the ruffian's arm fell nerveless to his side; and a second blow
stretched him lifeless on the ground. The other dragoon, with a
furious oath, flung me headlong. As I fell I heard the crashing
explosion of his pistol.

Slowly I raised myself on my arm, and watched the struggle betwixt
our preserver and his antagonist. Powerful though the trooper was,
the Captain, thanks to his strenuous life afloat, was his master.
For a while they swayed to and fro in a desperate struggle, Jeremy's
arms clasping the soldier like bands of steel, till the villain's
resistance grew weaker and weaker.

Then, with a superhuman effort, Captain Miles wrenched his bulky foe
clean off the ground, and hurled him, like a sack of flour, over his
shoulder.

"Bear a hand with your sister, lad," he then exclaimed, in a
matter-of-fact tone, although he was breathing heavily. "She has
swooned."

This was a work of some difficulty, for water was not at hand, but
at length Constance opened her eyes. Poor girl! Although not much
hurt, for the rogue had not had time to carry out his threat to the
fullest extent, she was terribly frightened, and the sight of the
two dragoons lying motionless on the road did not help matters.

"Take her down the road a little way, and make her sit down," said
Captain Jeremy kindly. "Then hasten back, for I'll warrant we've a
fine job to make all shipshape and Bristol fashion."

"Have you seen any more of these lubbers?" he asked, after I had
returned from carrying out his instructions.

"There was a troop of them in Lyndhurst this morning. They went
Southampton-wards."

"I'll pray that they'll not return in a hurry," he exclaimed. "We've
enough to do to cover up our tracks."

"Are they dead?" I asked shudderingly.

"As a marline-spike," he replied. "For the time we are safe; they
were the only ones that battened themselves to me. The Duke is
taken. I saw him seized by some of Portman's Militia near Ringwood
but yesterday. Faith! I was disappointed in King Monmouth, for he
fled from the field long before his men began to give way."

"And how did you escape?"

"'Twas touch and go. Monmouth, in a peasant's dress, lay hidden in
some ferns, I but ten yards away. Little did I think 'twas the Duke
till I heard Portman say as 'twas. I suppose that find satisfied
them, for they searched no more. Farmer Shearing of Ringwood lent me
his mare, and I rode off early this morning, intending to shape a
course for Pitt's Deep, for 'twould have been madness to return to
Lymington. Master Hammond, I was a fool even to set out for the
West. What I've seen in forty years afloat is naught to what I've
seen these last few days. But let's to work!"

We thereupon dragged the bodies of the troopers into the bracken,
and carefully obliterated all signs of the struggle. The troopers'
horses were contentedly nibbling the coarse grass by the roadside,
our pony Trotter having followed Constance.

They were fine animals, these dragoons' mounts, and I wondered what
would become of them. The same question evidently troubled Captain
Miles, for if they came within hearing of a trumpet call they would
most likely trot off to rejoin their fellows. Yet, as there were no
troopers within several miles of us, the horses might be taken by
some of the peasants who lived on the outskirts of the heath,
especially if we removed the saddlery.

"Nay, 'tis too much of a risk," muttered Jeremy to himself, though I
heard the words; and, lifting the fore-foot of one of the animals,
he examined its hoof. There, in a manner that could not be effaced,
were the royal monogram and regimental number; while a further
search revealed the government mark branded on the creature's flank.

"Those marks are their death warrant," he exclaimed.

"How so?"

"No man cares for a dumb animal more than I do," he replied. "Yet,
when human life and liberty are at stake, it behoves us to take
stern measures. Now, I pray you, take your sister home, and return
speedily with a pair of serviceable spades."

So saying, he led the two animals aside into the gorse, while I
hastened to rejoin Constance. We had barely gone a hundred paces
when a pistol shot rang out, quickly followed by another.

"What sound is that?" asked my sister.

"'Tis but naught," I replied, not daring to tell her the plain
truth. "Captain Miles has unloaded the troopers' pistols."




CHAPTER III

Captain Jeremy's Surprise.


"What hath befallen you?" asked my father anxiously, as we crossed
the threshold of the house. "Ye are both as pale as ghosts, and your
clothes, Clifford, are smothered in dust. Hath Trotter thrown you?"

For answer, Constance sat down upon a settle and sobbed
hysterically, while my father, stopping abruptly his task of
questioning us, bestirred himself to comfort her.

"Two dragoons have molested us," I announced. "They were in pursuit
of Captain Miles."

"Have they hurt you?" he asked.

"Nay, but little--thanks to the Captain." In a few words I related
the incidents that had terminated in the death of the two villains.
My father looked grave.

"And Jeremy?" he asked. "Hath he gone to Lymington?"

"Nay, he awaits me by the Beaulieu bridle path."

"'Tis well for him, though I am loath to risk His Majesty's
displeasure in succouring rebels. Yet, especially as he did befriend
you, I'll do my best to repay Jeremy's kindness. He must not go to
Lymington, Clifford."

"He doth not intend to do so," said I. "He is making for Pitt's
Deep."

"Equally as rash as if he journeyed to Lymington. I, too, heard the
news this morning soon after you left. The dragoons watch every mile
of this part of the coast, and at every little port a watch is set,
so that no strangers dare set foot on shipboard without being
closely questioned. My son, I take the risk even of harbouring a
rebel. I'll go with thee and speak my mind with friend Jeremy."

Bidding Martha, our housekeeper, stay with Constance, and impressing
upon her the necessity for silence as to what had occurred, my
father, taking a mattock in his hand, set out to the scene of the
encounter, I accompanying him, and carrying the spades over my
shoulder.

"Where is the package I bade you bring from Lyndhurst?" he asked, as
we left the outskirts of the village.

I searched the pockets of my doublet without success, though I was
certain that the article had been safely placed in one of them.

"It must have fallen out on the road," I replied.

"'Tis a grave matter," he said, with a look of anxiety and a gesture
of impatience. "How can I--but there! if 't comes to the worst, I
must journey into Southampton myself. 'Tis the fortune of war."

No more was said, for we were already in sight of the cross-roads,
and Captain Miles was sitting on the bracken-covered bank awaiting
us.

"Good day to you, Cap'n Hammond!" he exclaimed as we approached.
"'Tis a sad business dragging you and yours into this bickering."

"Yet, thanks to Heaven and your aid, my children were saved from the
clutches of those rogues."

"Had it not been for me the rascals would not have been here,"
replied Captain Miles apologetically. "Yet I thank you, sir, for
coming to my assistance, though 'tis to the advantage of this part
of the countryside that we hide this carrion," and he pointed with
his finger to the bodies of the two dragoons.

We set to work with a will, and in less than a quarter of an hour a
shallow trench was dug sufficiently deep to receive the corpses of
the ruffianly soldiers.

"Egad! 'tis warm work," exclaimed my father, leaning on his mattock
as the first part of the task was completed.

"I'm right sorry I've no rum to offer you," said Captain Miles,
wiping his heated brow. "You see, we're not aboard the old
_Venture_, otherwise 'twould be different."

"I, too, regret that I brought not my flask of cordials," replied my
father.

"There is a bottle of strong waters that I found close to the body
of one of these villains," remarked Jeremy; "but though I did make
three good attempts at it, 'twas more than I could stomach. It
smells aright, but the taste--faugh! I have it in my mouth yet. Try
it, Captain Hammond, and see if it suit thy palate."

So saying, he produced a bottle and handed it to my father, who gave
an exclamation of surprise, quickly followed by a hearty laugh.

"Why, what's amiss?" asked the astonished Captain, as my father
thrust the bottle into his pocket.

"Hist! I'll tell thee anon," said my sire mysteriously. "Now, let's
resume our task."

The carcasses of the troopers' horses, the victims of Captain
Miles's self-preservation, were next interred; while, to make doubly
sure, the mount that Jeremy had borrowed from the Ringwood farmer
was also buried.

This done, I happened to cross the highway, where, to my surprise, I
found the wrappings of the package for which we had journeyed into
Lyndhurst on that eventful morning.

"See! here is the covering of your packet," I exclaimed, holding it
up to my father's view.

"Aye, Clifford, I know it. Say no more on this matter."

Inwardly wondering, I obeyed. Whatever the package contained, I now
felt certain that 'twas the same stuff as Jeremy Miles had attempted
to swallow.

"Now, look you, Captain Miles," said my father, as we prepared to
return homewards, "neither Lymington nor Pitt's Deep offers an
asylum for you. To go to either place is to set your head in a trap.
I have made up my mind that you must tarry with us at Brockenhurst
till this storm has blown over."

"Nay, 'tis unfair to saddle you with the presence of a proclaimed
rebel," objected Captain Jeremy stoutly. "The service I rendered
your children does not warrant such a generous payment. I'll accept
your hospitality for this night, and at sunrise to-morrow I'll make
my way into Sussex. I know of an old shipmate at Shoreham who'll
gladly set me across to France."

"You'll never get out of Hampshire, my friend," interrupted my
