The Mayor of Troy Part 11

He turned.

"Fellow-citizens," he said, and his voice trembled on the words, but in an instant was steady again, "you surmise, no doubt, the purpose of this expedition. An invader menaces these sh.o.r.es, the defence of which has been committed to us. Of the ultimate invincibility of that defence I have no doubt whatever; nevertheless, it may expose here and there a vulnerable point. It is to test the alertness of our neighbours of Looe that we abstract ourselves for a few hours from the comforts of home, the society of the fair, in some instances the embraces of our loved ones, and embark upon an element which, to-night propitious, might in other moods have engulfed, if it did not actually force us to postpone, our temerity--" (Here a voice said, "Well done, Major; give 'em Troy!")

"Methinks," continued the Major, elevating his lantern and turning to that part of the crowd whence the interruption had proceeded, "methinks I hear some fair one sigh, 'But why to-night? Why on the eve of May-day, when we are wont to seek one or other of those rural spots, vales, hamlets, remote among our river's lovelier reaches, where annually the tides have mirrored at sunrise our gala companies and the green woods responded to our innocent mirth? Why on this consecrated eve distract our hitherto faithful swains and lead their steps divergent at an angle of something like thirty degrees?'

I have reason to believe that some such tender complaints have made themselves audible, and it is painful to me to suffer the imputation of lack of feeling, even from an Aeolian harp. Yet I have suffered it, awaiting the moment to rea.s.sure you.

"Yes, ladies, be rea.s.sured! We depart indeed for Looe; but we hope, ere dawn, to meet you at Lerryn and be rewarded with your approving smiles. At nine-thirty precisely the three long-boats, _Naiad_, _Nautilus_, and _Corona_, which have lain for some weeks under repair in Mr. Runnells' yard, will pa.s.s this Quay and proceed seaward, each manned by an able, if veteran, crew. After a brief trip outside the harbour--to test their stanchness--they will return to the Quay to embark pa.s.sengers, and start at 2 a.m. on the excursion up the river to our rendezvous at Lerryn. Nay!" the Major turned at the head of the steps and lifted a hand--"I will accept of you no thanks but this, that during the few arduous hours ahead of us we carry your wishes, ladies, as a prosperous breeze behind our banners!"

"Now isn't he a perfect duck?" demanded Miss Sally Tregentil, turning in the darkness and addressing Miss Pescod, whose strongly marked and aquiline features she had recognised in the last far-flung ray of the Major's lantern.

"My good Sarah! _You_ here?" answered Miss Pescod, divided between surprise, disapproval and embarra.s.sment.

"At such a period--a crisis, one might almost say--when the fate of Europe . . . and after all, if it comes to that, so are you."

"For my part--" began Miss Pescod, and ended with a sigh.

"For my part," declared Miss Sally, hardily, "I shall go to Lerryn."

"Sally!"

"It used to be great fun. In later years mamma disapproved, but there is (may I confess it?) this to be said for war, that beneath its awful frown--under cover of what I may venture to call the shaking of its gory locks--you can do a heap of things you wouldn't dream of under ordinary circ.u.mstances. Life, though more precarious, becomes distinctly less artificial. Two years ago, for instance, lulled in a false security by the so-called Peace of Amiens, I should as soon have thought of flying through the air."

"Has it occurred to you," Miss Pescod suggested, "what might happen if the Corsican, taking advantage to-night of our dear Major's temporary absence--"

"Don't!" Miss Sally interrupted with a shiver. "Oh, decidedly I shall go to Lerryn to-night! On second thoughts it would be only proper."

On the dark waters below them, beyond the Quay, a hoa.r.s.e military voice gave the command to "Give way!" One by one on the fast-dropping tide the boats, keeping good order, headed for the harbour's mouth. The Major led. _O navis, referent_ . . .

Think, I pray you, of Wolfe dropping down the dark St. Lawrence; of Wolfe and, ahead of him, the Heights of Abraham!

CHAPTER VII.

THE BATTLE OF TALLAND COVE.

"Now entertain conjecture of a time When creeping murmur and the poring dark Fills the wide vessel of the universe. . . ."

The _avant-garde_ of the Looe Diehards occupied, and had been occupying for two dark hours--in a sitting posture--the ridge of rock which, on its eastern side, sheltered Talland Cove. One may say, considering the heavy dew and the nature of the ridge--of slate formation and sharply serrated--they had clung to it obstinately.

Above them the clear and constellated dome of night turned almost perceptibly around its pole. At their feet the tide lapped the beach, phosph.o.r.escent, at the last draught of ebb.

Somewhere in the darkness at the head of the beach--either by the footbridge where the stream ran down, or in the meadow behind it--lay the main body. A few outposts had been flung wide to the westward, and Captain Pond for the second time had walked off to test their alertness and give and receive the pa.s.sword--"_Death to the Invader_."

"And a more cold-running act of defiance I don't remember to have heard--no, not in all my years of service," said Gunner Israel Spettigew, a cheerful s.e.xagenarian, commonly known as Uncle Issy, discussing it with his comrades on the ridge. "There's a terrible downrightness about that word 'death.' Speaking for myself, and except in the way of business, I wouldn' fling it at a cat."

"'Tis what we must all come to," said Gunner Oke, a young married man, gloomily shifting his seat.

"True, lad, true. Then why cast it up against any man in particular, be he French or English? Folks in gla.s.s houses, simmin' to me, shouldn' throw stones."

"I reckon you fellows might find something more cheerful to talk about." Gunner Oke shifted his seat again, and threw a nervous glance seaward.

"William Oke, William Oke, you'll never make a sojer! Now I mind back in 'seventy-nine when the fleets of France an' Spain a.s.sembled and come together agen us--sixty-six sail of the line, my billies, besides frigates an' corvettes an' such-like small trade; an' the folks at Plymouth blowing off their alarm-guns, an' the signals flying from Maker Tower--a b.l.o.o.d.y flag at the masthead an' two blue uns at the outriggers. Four days they laid to, in sight of the a.s.sembled mult.i.tude of Looe, an' Squire Buller rode down to form us up to oppose 'em. 'Hallo!' says the Squire, catching sight of me.

'Where's your gun? Don't begin for to tell me that a han'some, well-set-up, intelligent chap like Israel Spettigew is for hangin'

back at his country's call!' 'Squire,' says I, 'you've a-pictered me to a hair. But there's one thing you've left out. I've been turnin'

it over, an' I don't see that I'm fit to die.' 'Why not?' says he.

'I'm not a saved man like them other chaps,' says I. 'I've had a few convictions of sin, but that's as far as it's gone.' 'Tut,' says he, 'have you ever broken the Commandments?' 'What's that?' I asks.

'Why, the things up at the end of the church, inside the rails.'

'I never married my gran'mother, if that's what you mean,' I says.

'That's the Affini-ety Table,' says he, 'but have 'ee ever made to yourself a graven image?' 'Lord, no,' I says, 'I leaves that nigglin' work to the I-talians.' 'Have 'ee honoured your father an'

your mother?' 'They took damgood care about that,' says I.

'Well, then, have 'ee ever coveted your neighbour's wife?' 'No,' I says, 'I never could abide the woman.' 'Come, come,' says he, 'did 'ee ever commit murder upon a man?' 'That's a leadin' question from a magistrate,' I says; 'but I don't mind ownin', as man to man, that I never did.' 'Then,' says he, 'the sooner you pitch-to and larn the better.'"

"The bloodthirsty old termigant!"

"'Twas the way of us all in the year 'seventy-nine," the old man admitted modestly. "A few throats up or down--Lord bless 'ee!--we talked of it as calm as William Oke might talk of killin' a pig!

And, after all, what's our trade here to-night but battery and murder?"

"But 'tisn' the French we'm expectin'," urged Oke, whose mind moved slowly.

"'Tis the same argyment with these billies from Troy. Troy an' Looe.

What's between the two in an ordinary way? A few miles; which to a thoughtful mind is but mud and stones, with two-three churches and a turnpike to keep us in mind of Adam's fall. Why, my own brother married a maid from there!"

"'Tis the Almighty's doin'," said Sergeant Pengelly; "He's hand-in-glove with King George, and, while that lasts, us poor subject fellows have got to hate Bonyparty with all our heart and with all our mind and with all our soul and with all our strength, for richer for poorer, till death us do part, and not to be afraid with any amazement. To my mind, that's half the fun of being a sojer; the pay's small and the life's hard, and you keep unG.o.dly hours; but 'tis a consolation to sit out here 'pon a rock and know you'm a man of blood and breaking every mother's son of the Ten Commandments wi' the Lord's leave."

"What's _that_!" Gunner Oke gripped the Sergeant's arm of a sudden and leaned forward, straining his ears.

Someone was crossing the track towards them with wary footsteps, picking his way upon the light shingle by the water's edge.

Presently a voice, hoa.r.s.e and low, spoke up to them out of the darkness.

"Hist, there! Silence in the ranks!" The speaker was Captain Pond himself. "A man can hear that old fool Spettigew's cackle half-way across the Cove. They're coming, I tell you!"

"Where, Cap'n? Where?"

"Bare half-a-mile t'other side of Downend Point. Is the first rocket ready?"

"Ay, ay, Cap'n."

"And the flint and steel?"

"Here, between my knees: and Oke beside me, ready with the fuse.

Got the fuse, Oke?"

"If--if you p-please, sir--"

"What's wrong?"

"If you p-please, sir, I've chewed up the fuse by mistake!"