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When London Burned : a Story of Restoration Times and the Great Fire

by G. A. Henty · English · Gutenberg #7831 · 766,075 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: When London Burned : a Story of Restoration Times and the Great Fire

Author: G. A. Henty


        
Release date: April 1, 2005 [eBook #7831]
                Most recently updated: June 2, 2012

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHEN LONDON BURNED : A STORY OF RESTORATION TIMES AND THE GREAT FIRE ***




Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Tiffany Vergon, S.R. Ellison,
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.










WHEN LONDON BURNED

BY G. A. HENTY







PREFACE

We are accustomed to regard the Reign of Charles II. as one of the
most inglorious periods of English History; but this was far from
being the case. It is true that the extravagance and profligacy of
the Court were carried to a point unknown before or since,
forming,--by the indignation they excited among the people at
large,--the main cause of the overthrow of the House of Stuart. But,
on the other hand, the nation made extraordinary advances in commerce
and wealth, while the valour of our sailors was as conspicuous under
the Dukes of York and Albemarle, Prince Rupert and the Earl of
Sandwich, as it had been under Blake himself, and their victories
resulted in transferring the commercial as well as the naval
supremacy of Holland to this country. In spite of the cruel blows
inflicted on the well-being of the country, alike by the extravagance
of the Court, the badness of the Government, the Great Plague, and
the destruction of London by fire, an extraordinary extension of our
trade occurred during the reign of Charles II. Such a period,
therefore, although its brilliancy was marred by dark shadows, cannot
be considered as an inglorious epoch. It was ennobled by the bravery
of our sailors, by the fearlessness with which the coalition of
France with Holland was faced, and by the spirit of enterprise with
which our merchants and traders seized the opportunity, and, in spite
of national misfortunes, raised England in the course of a few years
to the rank of the greatest commercial power in the world.

                                  G. A. HENTY.





CONTENTS

CHAPTER

     I. FATHERLESS

    II. A CHANGE FOR THE BETTER

   III. A THIEF SOMEWHERE

    IV. CAPTURED

     V. KIDNAPPED

    VI. A NARROW ESCAPE

   VII. SAVED FROM A VILLAIN

  VIII. THE CAPTAIN'S YARN

    IX. THE FIRE IN THE SAVOY

     X. HOW JOHN WILKES FOUGHT THE DUTCH

    XI. PRINCE RUPERT

   XII. NEW FRIENDS

  XIII. THE BATTLE OF LOWESTOFT

   XIV. HONOURABLE SCARS

    XV. THE PLAGUE

   XVI. FATHER AND SON

  XVII. SMITTEN DOWN

 XVIII. A STROKE OF GOOD FORTUNE

   XIX. TAKING POSSESSION

    XX. THE FIGHT OFF DUNKIRK

   XXI. LONDON IN FLAMES

  XXII. AFTER THE FIRE




ILLUSTRATIONS

"WITH GREAT RAPIDITY THE FLAMES SPREAD FROM HOUSE TO HOUSE"

"DON'T CRY, LAD; YOU WILL GET ON BETTER WITHOUT ME"

"THIS IS MY PRINCE OF SCRIVENERS, MARY"

"ROBERT ASHFORD, KNIFE IN HAND, ATTACKED JOHN WILKES WITH FURY"

"CYRIL SAT UP AND DRANK OFF THE CONTENTS OF THE PANNIKIN"

"FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE, SIR, DO NOT CAUSE TROUBLE"

"TAKE HER DOWN QUICK, JOHN, THERE ARE THREE OTHERS"

"CYRIL RAISED THE KING'S HAND TO HIS LIPS"

"A DUTCH MAN-OF-WAR RAN ALONGSIDE AND FIRED A BROADSIDE"

"FOR THE LAST TIME: WILL YOU SIGN THE DEED?"

"WELCOME BACK TO YOUR OWN AGAIN, SIR CYRIL!"

"WHAT NEWS, JAMES?" THE KING ASKED EAGERLY




WHEN LONDON BURNED




CHAPTER I

FATHERLESS


Lad stood looking out of the dormer window in a scantily furnished
attic in the high-pitched roof of a house in Holborn, in September
1664. Numbers of persons were traversing the street below, many of
them going out through the bars, fifty yards away, into the fields
beyond, where some sports were being held that morning, while country
people were coming in with their baskets from the villages of
Highgate and Hampstead, Tyburn and Bayswater. But the lad noted
nothing that was going on; his eyes were filled with tears, and his
thoughts were in the little room behind him; for here, coffined in
readiness for burial, lay the body of his father.

Sir Aubrey Shenstone had not been a good father in any sense of the
word. He had not been harsh or cruel, but he had altogether neglected
his son. Beyond the virtues of loyalty and courage, he possessed few
others. He had fought, as a young man, for Charles, and even among
the Cavaliers who rode behind Prince Rupert was noted for reckless
bravery. When, on the fatal field of Worcester, the last hopes of the
Royalists were crushed, he had effected his escape to France and
taken up his abode at Dunkirk. His estates had been forfeited; and
after spending the proceeds of his wife's jewels and those he had
carried about with him in case fortune went against the cause for
which he fought, he sank lower and lower, and had for years lived on
the scanty pension allowed by Louis to the King and his adherents.

Sir Aubrey had been one of the wild, reckless spirits whose conduct
did much towards setting the people of England against the cause of
Charles. He gambled and drank, interlarded his conversation with
oaths, and despised as well as hated the Puritans against whom he
fought. Misfortune did not improve him; he still drank when he had
money to do so, gambled for small sums in low taverns with men of his
own kind, and quarrelled and fought on the smallest provocation. Had
it not been for his son he would have taken service in the army of
some foreign Power; but he could not take the child about with him,
nor could he leave it behind.

Sir Aubrey was not altogether without good points. He would divide
his last crown with a comrade poorer than himself. In the worst of
times he was as cheerful as when money was plentiful, making a joke
of his necessities and keeping a brave face to the world.

Wholly neglected by his father, who spent the greater portion of his
time abroad, Cyril would have fared badly indeed had it not been for
the kindness of Lady Parton, the wife of a Cavalier of very different
type to Sir Aubrey. He had been an intimate friend of Lord Falkland,
and, like that nobleman, had drawn his sword with the greatest
reluctance, and only when he saw that Parliament was bent upon
overthrowing the other two estates in the realm and constituting
itself the sole authority in England. After the execution of Charles
he had retired to France, and did not take part in the later risings,
but lived a secluded life with his wife and children. The eldest of
these was of the same age as Cyril; and as the latter's mother had
been a neighbour of hers before marriage, Lady Parton promised her,
on her death-bed, to look after the child, a promise that she
faithfully kept.

Sir John Parton had always been adverse to the association of his boy
with the son of Sir Aubrey Shenstone; but he had reluctantly yielded
to his wife's wishes, and Cyril passed the greater portion of his
time at their house, sharing the lessons Harry received from an
English clergyman who had been expelled from his living by the
fanatics of Parliament. He was a good and pious man, as well as an
excellent scholar, and under his teaching, aided by the gentle
precepts of Lady Parton, and the strict but kindly rule of her
husband, Cyril received a training of a far better kind than he would
ever have been likely to obtain had he been brought up in his
father's house near Norfolk. Sir Aubrey exclaimed sometimes that the
boy was growing up a little Puritan, and had he taken more interest
in his welfare would undoubtedly have withdrawn him from the healthy
influences that were benefiting him so greatly; but, with the usual
acuteness of children, Cyril soon learnt that any allusion to his
studies or his life at Sir John Parton's was disagreeable to his
father, and therefore seldom spoke of them.

Sir Aubrey was never, even when under the influence of his potations,
unkind to Cyril. The boy bore a strong likeness to his mother, whom
his father had, in his rough way, really loved passionately. He
seldom spoke even a harsh word to him, and although he occasionally
expressed his disapproval of the teaching he was receiving, was at
heart not sorry to see the boy growing up so different from himself;
and Cyril, in spite of his father's faults, loved him. When Sir
Aubrey came back with unsteady step, late at night, and threw himself
on his pallet, Cyril would say to himself, "Poor father! How
different he would have been had it not been for his misfortunes! He
is to be pitied rather than blamed!" And so, as years went on, in
spite of the difference between their natures, there had grown up a
sort of fellowship between the two; and of an evening sometimes, when
his father's purse was so low that he could not indulge in his usual
stoup of wine at the tavern, they would sit together while Sir Aubrey
talked of his fights and adventures.

"As to the estates, Cyril," he said one day, "I don't know that
Cromwell and his Roundheads have done you much harm. I should have
run through them, lad--I should have diced them away years ago--and I
am not sure but that their forfeiture has been a benefit to you. If
the King ever gets his own, you may come to the estates; while, if I
had had the handling of them, the usurers would have had such a grip
on them that you would never have had a penny of the income."

"It doesn't matter, father," the boy replied. "I mean to be a soldier
some day, as you have been, and I shall take service with some of the
Protestant Princes of Germany; or, if I can't do that, I shall be
able to work my way somehow."

"What can you work at, lad?" his father said, contemptuously.

"I don't know yet, father; but I shall find some work to do."

Sir Aubrey was about to burst into a tirade against work, but he
checked himself. If Cyril never came into the estates he would have
to earn his living somehow.

"All right, my boy. But do you stick to your idea of earning your
living by your sword; it is a gentleman's profession, and I would
rather see you eating dry bread as a soldier of fortune than
prospering in some vile trading business."

Cyril never argued with his father, and he simply nodded an assent
and then asked some question that turned Sir Aubrey's thoughts on
other matters.

The news that Monk had declared for the King, and that Charles would
speedily return to take his place on his father's throne, caused
great excitement among the Cavaliers scattered over the Continent;
and as soon as the matter was settled, all prepared to return to
England, in the full belief that their evil days were over, and that
they would speedily be restored to their former estates, with honours
and rewards for their many sacrifices.

"I must leave you behind for a short time, Cyril," his father said to
the boy, when he came in one afternoon. "I must be in London before
the King arrives there, to join in his welcome home, and for the
moment I cannot take you; I shall be busy from morning till night. Of
course, in the pressure of things at first it will be impossible for
the King to do everything at once, and it may be a few weeks before
all these Roundheads can be turned out of the snug nests they have
made for themselves, and the rightful owners come to their own again.
As I have no friends in London, I should have nowhere to bestow you,
until I can take you down with me to Norfolk to present you to our
tenants, and you would be grievously in my way; but as soon as things
are settled I will write to you or come over myself to fetch you. In
the meantime I must think over where I had best place you. It will
not matter for so short a time, but I would that you should be as
comfortable as possible. Think it over yourself, and let me know if
you have any wishes in the matter. Sir John Parton leaves at the end
of the week, and ere another fortnight there will be scarce another
Englishman left at Dunkirk."

"Don't you think you can take me with you, father?"

"Impossible," Sir Aubrey said shortly. "Lodgings will be at a great
price in London, for the city will be full of people from all parts
coming up to welcome the King home. I can bestow myself in a garret
anywhere, but I could not leave you there all day. Besides, I shall
have to get more fitting clothes, and shall have many expenses. You
are at home here, and will not feel it dull for the short time you
have to remain behind."

Cyril said no more, but went up, with a heavy heart, for his last
day's lessons at the Partons'. Young as he was, he was accustomed to
think for himself, for it was but little guidance he received from
his father; and after his studies were over he laid the case before
his master, Mr. Felton, and asked if he could advise him. Mr. Felton
was himself in high spirits, and was hoping to be speedily reinstated
in his living. He looked grave when Cyril told his story.

"I think it is a pity that your father, Sir Aubrey, does not take you
over with him, for it will assuredly take longer to bring all these
matters into order than he seems to think. However, that is his
affair. I should think he could not do better for you than place you
with the people where I lodge. You know them, and they are a worthy
couple; the husband is, as you know, a fisherman, and you and Harry
Parton have often been out with him in his boat, so it would not be
like going among strangers. Continue your studies. I should be sorry
to think that you were forgetting all that you have learnt. I will
take you this afternoon, if you like, to my friend, the Curé of St.
Ursula. Although we differ on religion we are good friends, and
should you need advice on any matters he will give it to you, and may
be of use in arranging for a passage for you to England, should your
father not be able himself to come and fetch you."

Sir Aubrey at once assented to the plan when Cyril mentioned it to
him, and a week later sailed for England; Cyril moving, with his few
belongings, to the house of Jean Baudoin, who was the owner and
master of one of the largest fishing-boats in Dunkirk. Sir Aubrey had
paid for his board and lodgings for two months.

"I expect to be over to fetch you long before that, Cyril," he had
said, "but it is as well to be on the safe side. Here are four
crowns, which will furnish you with ample pocket-money. And I have
arranged with your fencing-master for you to have lessons regularly,
as before; it will not do for you to neglect so important an
accomplishment, for which, as he tells me, you show great aptitude."

The two months passed. Cyril had received but one letter from his
father. Although it expressed hopes of his speedy restoration to his
estates, Cyril could see, by its tone, that his father was far from
satisfied with the progress he had made in the matter. Madame Baudoin
was a good and pious woman, and was very kind to the forlorn English
boy; but when a fortnight over the two months had passed, Cyril could
see that the fisherman was becoming anxious. Regularly, on his return
from the fishing, he inquired if letters had arrived, and seemed much
put out when he heard that there was no news. One day, when Cyril was
in the garden that surrounded the cottage, he heard him say to his
wife,--

"Well, I will say nothing about it until after the next voyage, and
then if we don't hear, the boy must do something for his living. I
can take him in the boat with me; he can earn his victuals in that
way. If he won't do that, I shall wash my hands of him altogether,
and he must shift for himself. I believe his father has left him with
us for good. We were wrong in taking him only on the recommendation
of Mr. Felton. I have been inquiring about his father, and hear
little good of him."

Cyril, as soon as the fisherman had gone, stole up to his little
room. He was but twelve years old, and he threw himself down on his
bed and cried bitterly. Then a thought struck him; he went to his
box, and took out from it a sealed parcel; on it was written, "To my
son. This parcel is only to be opened should you find yourself in
great need, Your Loving Mother." He remembered how she had placed it
in his hands a few hours before her death, and had said to him,--

"Put this away, Cyril. I charge you let no one see it. Do not speak
of it to anyone--not even to your father. Keep it as a sacred gift,
and do not open it unless you are in sore need. It is for you, and
you alone. It is the sole thing that I have to leave you; use it with
discretion. I fear that hard times will come upon you."

Cyril felt that his need could hardly be sorer than it was now, and
without hesitation he broke the seals, and opened the packet. He
found first a letter directed to himself. It began,--

"MY DARLING CYRIL,--I trust that it will be many years before you
open this parcel and read these words. I have left the enclosed as a
parting gift to you. I know not how long this exile may last, or
whether you will ever be able to return to England. But whether you
do or not, it may well be that the time will arrive when you may find
yourself in sore need. Your father has been a loving husband to me,
and will, I am sure, do what he can for you; but he is not provident
in his habits, and may not, after he is left alone, be as careful in
his expenditure as I have tried to be. I fear then that the time will
come when you will be in need of money, possibly even in want of the
necessaries of life. All my other trinkets I have given to him; but
the one enclosed, which belonged to my mother, I leave to you. It is
worth a good deal of money, and this it is my desire that you shall
spend upon yourself. Use it wisely, my son. If, when you open this,
you are of age to enter the service of a foreign Prince, as is, I
know, the intention of your father, it will provide you with a
suitable outfit. If, as is possible, you may lose your father by
death or otherwise while you are still young, spend it on your
education, which is the best of all heritages. Should your father be
alive when you open this, I pray you not to inform him of it. The
money, in his hands, would last but a short time, and might, I fear,
be wasted. Think not that I am speaking or thinking hardly of him.
All men, even the best, have their faults, and his is a carelessness
as to money matters, and a certain recklessness concerning them;
therefore, I pray you to keep it secret from him, though I do not say
that you should not use the money for your common good, if it be
needful; only, in that case, I beg you will not inform him as to what
money you have in your possession, but use it carefully and prudently
for the household wants, and make it last as long as may be. My good
friend, Lady Parton, if still near you, will doubtless aid you in
disposing of the jewels to the best advantage. God bless you, my son!
This is the only secret I ever had from your father, but for your
good I have hidden this one thing from him, and I pray that this
deceit, which is practised for your advantage, may be forgiven me.
YOUR LOVING MOTHER."

It was some time before Cyril opened the parcel; it contained a
jewel-box in which was a necklace of pearls. After some consideration
he took this to the Curé of St. Ursula, and, giving him his mother's
letter to read, asked him for his advice as to its disposal.

"Your mother was a thoughtful and pious woman," the good priest said,
after he had read the letter, "and has acted wisely in your behalf.
The need she foresaw might come, has arisen, and you are surely
justified in using her gift. I will dispose of this trinket for you;
it is doubtless of considerable value. If it should be that your
father speedily sends for you, you ought to lay aside the money for
some future necessity. If he does not come for some time, as may well
be--for, from the news that comes from England, it is like to be many
months before affairs are settled--then draw from it only such
amounts as are needed for your living and education. Study hard, my
son, for so will you best be fulfilling the intentions of your
mother. If you like, I will keep the money in my hands, serving it
out to you as you need it; and in order that you may keep the matter
a secret, I will myself go to Baudoin, and tell him that he need not
be disquieted as to the cost of your maintenance, for that I have
money in hand with which to discharge your expenses, so long as you
may remain with him."

The next day the Curé informed Cyril that he had disposed of the
necklace for fifty louis. Upon this sum Cyril lived for two years.

Things had gone very hardly with Sir Aubrey Shenstone. The King had a
difficult course to steer. To have evicted all those who had obtained
possession of the forfeited estates of the Cavaliers would have been
to excite a deep feeling of resentment among the Nonconformists. In
vain Sir Aubrey pressed his claims, in season and out of season. He
had no powerful friends to aid him; his conduct had alienated the men
who could have assisted him, and, like so many other Cavaliers who
had fought and suffered for Charles I., Sir Aubrey Shenstone found
himself left altogether in the cold. For a time he was able to keep
up a fair appearance, as he obtained loans from Prince Rupert and
other Royalists whom he had known in the old days, and who had been
more fortunate than himself; but the money so obtained lasted but a
short time, and it was not long before he was again in dire straits.

Cyril had from the first but little hope that his father would
recover his estates. He had, shortly before his father left France,
heard a conversation between Sir John Parton and a gentleman who was
in the inner circle of Charles's advisers. The latter had said,--

"One of the King's great difficulties will be to satisfy the exiles.
Undoubtedly, could he consult his own inclinations only, he would on
his return at once reinstate all those who have suffered in their
estates from their loyalty to his father and himself. But this will
be impossible. It was absolutely necessary for him, in his
proclamation at Breda, to promise an amnesty for all offences,
liberty of conscience and an oblivion as to the past, and he
specially says that all questions of grants, sales and purchases of
land, and titles, shall be referred to Parliament. The Nonconformists
are at present in a majority, and although it seems that all parties
are willing to welcome the King back, you may be sure that no
Parliament will consent to anything like a general disturbance of the
possessors of estates formerly owned by Royalists. In a vast number
of cases, the persons to whom such grants were made disposed of them
by sale to others, and it would be as hard on them to be ousted as it
is upon the original proprietors to be kept out of their possession.
Truly it is a most difficult position, and one that will have to be
approached with great judgment, the more so since most of those to
whom the lands were granted were generals, officers, and soldiers of
the Parliament, and Monk would naturally oppose any steps to the
detriment of his old comrades.

"I fear there will be much bitter disappointment among the exiles,
and that the King will be charged with ingratitude by those who think
that he has only to sign an order for their reinstatement, whereas
Charles will have himself a most difficult course to steer, and will
have to govern himself most circumspectly, so as to give offence to
none of the governing parties. As to his granting estates, or
dispossessing their holders, he will have no more power to do so than
you or I. Doubtless some of the exiles will be restored to their
estates; but I fear that the great bulk are doomed to disappointment.
At any rate, for a time no extensive changes can be made, though it
may be that in the distance, when the temper of the nation at large
is better understood, the King will be able to do something for those
who suffered in the cause.

"It was all very well for Cromwell, who leant solely on the Army, to
dispense with a Parliament, and to govern far more autocratically
than James or Charles even dreamt of doing; but the Army that
supported Cromwell would certainly not support Charles. It is
composed for the most part of stern fanatics, and will be the first
to oppose any attempt of the King to override the law. No doubt it
will erelong be disbanded; but you will see that Parliament will then
recover the authority of which Cromwell deprived it; and Charles is a
far wiser man than his father, and will never set himself against the
feeling of the country. Certainly, anything like a general
reinstatement of the men who have been for the last ten years
haunting the taverns of the Continent is out of the question; they
would speedily create such a revulsion of public opinion as might
bring about another rebellion. Hyde, staunch Royalist as he is, would
never suffer the King to make so grievous an error; nor do I think
for a moment that Charles, who is shrewd and politic, and above all
things a lover of ease and quiet, would think of bringing such a nest
of hornets about his ears."

When, after his return to England, it became evident that Sir Aubrey
had but small chance of reinstatement in his lands, his former
friends began to close their purses and to refuse to grant further
loans, and he was presently reduced to straits as severe as those he
had suffered during his exile. The good spirits that had borne him up
so long failed now, and he grew morose and petulant. His loyalty to
the King was unshaken; Charles had several times granted him
audiences, and had assured him that, did it rest with him, justice
should be at once dealt to him, but that he was practically powerless
in the matter, and the knight's resentment was concentrated upon
Hyde, now Lord Clarendon, and the rest of the King's advisers. He
wrote but seldom to Cyril; he had no wish to have the boy with him
until he could take him down with him in triumph to Norfolk, and show
him to the tenants as his heir. Living from hand to mouth as he did,
he worried but little as to how Cyril was getting on.

"The lad has fallen on his feet somehow," he said, "and he is better
where he is than he would be with me. I suppose when he wants money
he will write and say so, though where I should get any to send to
him I know not. Anyhow, I need not worry about him at present."

Cyril, indeed, had written to him soon after the sale of the
necklace, telling him that he need not distress himself about his
condition, for that he had obtained sufficient money for his present
necessities from the sale of a small trinket his mother had given him
before her death, and that when this was spent he should doubtless
find some means of earning his living until he could rejoin him. His
father never inquired into the matter, though he made a casual
reference to it in his next letter, saying that he was glad Cyril had
obtained some money, as it would, at the moment, have been
inconvenient to him to send any over.

Cyril worked assiduously at the school that had been recommended to
him by the Curé, and at the end of two years he had still twenty
louis left. He had several conversations with his adviser as to the
best way of earning his living.

"I do not wish to spend any more, Father," he said, "and would fain
keep this for some future necessity."

The Curé agreed with him as to this, and, learning from his master
that he was extremely quick at figures and wrote an excellent hand,
he obtained a place for him with one of the principal traders of the
town. He was to receive no salary for a year, but was to learn
book-keeping and accounts. Although but fourteen, the boy was so
intelligent and zealous that his employer told the Curé that he found
him of real service, and that he was able to entrust some of his
books entirely to his charge.

Six months after entering his service, however, Cyril received a
letter from his father, saying that he believed his affairs were on
the point of settlement, and therefore wished him to come over in the
first ship sailing. He enclosed an order on a house at Dunkirk for
fifty francs, to pay his passage. His employer parted with him with
regret, and the kind Curé bade him farewell in terms of real
affection, for he had come to take a great interest in him.

"At any rate, Cyril," he said, "your time here has not been wasted,
and your mother's gift has been turned to as much advantage as even
she can have hoped that it would be. Should your father's hopes be
again disappointed, and fresh delays arise, you may, with the
practice you have had, be able to earn your living in London. There
must be there, as in France, many persons in trade who have had but
little education, and you may be able to obtain employment in keeping
the books of such people, who are, I believe, more common in England
than here. Here are the sixteen louis that still remain; put them
aside, Cyril, and use them only for urgent necessity."

Cyril, on arriving in London, was heartily welcomed by his father,
who had, for the moment, high hopes of recovering his estates. These,
however, soon faded, and although Sir Aubrey would not allow it, even
to himself, no chance remained of those Royalists, who had, like him,
parted with their estates for trifling sums, to be spent in the
King's service, ever regaining possession of them.

It was not long before Cyril perceived that unless he himself
obtained work of some sort they would soon be face to face with
actual starvation. He said nothing to his father, but started out one
morning on a round of visits among the smaller class of shopkeepers,
offering to make up their books and write out their bills and
accounts for a small remuneration. As he had a frank and pleasant
face, and his foreign bringing up had given him an ease and
politeness of manner rare among English lads of the day, it was not
long before he obtained several clients. To some of the smaller class
of traders he went only for an hour or two, once a week, while others
required their bills and accounts to be made out daily. The pay was
very small, but it sufficed to keep absolute want from the door. When
he told his father of the arrangements he had made, Sir Aubrey at
first raged and stormed; but he had come, during the last year or
two, to recognise the good sense and strong will of his son, and
although he never verbally acquiesced in what he considered a
degradation, he offered no actual opposition to a plan that at least
enabled them to live, and furnished him occasionally with a few
groats with which he could visit a tavern.

So things had gone on for more than a year. Cyril was now sixteen,
and his punctuality, and the neatness of his work, had been so
appreciated by the tradesmen who first employed him, that his time
was now fully occupied, and that at rates more remunerative than
those he had at first obtained. He kept the state of his resources to
himself, and had no difficulty in doing this, as his father never
alluded to the subject of his work. Cyril knew that, did he hand over
to him all the money he made, it would be wasted in drink or at
cards; consequently, he kept the table furnished as modestly as at
first, and regularly placed after dinner on the corner of the mantel
a few coins, which his father as regularly dropped into his pocket.

A few days before the story opens, Sir Aubrey had, late one evening,
been carried upstairs, mortally wounded in a brawl; he only recovered
consciousness a few minutes before his death.

"You have been a good lad, Cyril," he said faintly, as he feebly
pressed the boy's hand; "far better than I deserve to have had. Don't
cry, lad; you will get on better without me, and things are just as
well as they are. I hope you will come to your estates some day; you
will make a better master than I should ever have done. I hope that
in time you will carry out your plan of entering some foreign
service; there is no chance here. I don't want you to settle down as
a city scrivener. Still, do as you like, lad, and unless your wishes
go with mine, think no further of service."

"I would rather be a soldier, father. I only undertook this work
because I could see nothing else."

"That is right, my boy, that is right. I know you won't forget that
you come of a race of gentlemen."

He spoke but little after that. A few broken words came from his lips
that showed that his thoughts had gone back to old times. "Boot and
saddle," he murmured. "That is right. Now we are ready for them. Down
with the prick-eared knaves! God and King Charles!" These were the
last words he spoke.

Cyril had done all that was necessary. He had laid by more than half
his earnings for the last eight or nine months. One of his clients,
an undertaker, had made all the necessary preparations for the
funeral, and in a few hours his father would be borne to his last
resting-place. As he stood at the open window he thought sadly over
the past, and of his father's wasted life. Had it not been for the
war he might have lived and died a country gentleman. It was the war,
with its wild excitements, that had ruined him. What was there for
him to do in a foreign country, without resource or employment,
having no love for reading, but to waste his life as he had done? Had
his wife lived it might have been different. Cyril had still a vivid
remembrance of his mother, and, though his father had but seldom
spoken to him of her, he knew that he had loved her, and that, had
she lived, he would never have given way to drink as he had done of
late years.

To his father's faults he could not be blind; but they stood for
nothing now. He had been his only friend, and of late they had been
drawn closer to each other in their loneliness; and although scarce a
word of endearment had passed between them, he knew that his father
had cared for him more than was apparent in his manner.

A few hours later, Sir Aubrey Shenstone was laid to rest in a little
graveyard outside the city walls. Cyril was the only mourner; and
when it was over, instead of going back to his lonely room, he turned
away and wandered far out through the fields towards Hampstead, and
then sat himself down to think what he had best do. Another three or
four years must pass before he could try to get service abroad. When
the time came he should find Sir John Parton, and beg him to procure
for him some letter of introduction to the many British gentlemen
serving abroad. He had not seen him since he came to England. His
father had met him, but had quarrelled with him upon Sir John
declining to interest himself actively to push his claims, and had
forbidden Cyril to go near those who had been so kind to him.

The boy had felt it greatly at first, but he came, after a time, to
see that it was best so. It seemed to him that he had fallen
altogether out of their station in life when the hope of his father's
recovering his estates vanished, and although he was sure of a kindly
reception from Lady Parton, he shrank from going there in his present
position. They had done so much for him already, that the thought
that his visit might seem to them a sort of petition for further
benefits was intolerable to him.

For the present, the question in his mind was whether he should
continue at his present work, which at any rate sufficed to keep him,
or should seek other employment. He would greatly have preferred some
life of action,--something that would fit him better to bear the
fatigues and hardships of war,--but he saw no prospect of obtaining
any such position.

"I should be a fool to throw up what I have," he said to himself at
last. "I will stick to it anyhow until some opportunity offers; but
the sooner I leave it the better. It was bad enough before; it will
be worse now. If I had but a friend or two it would not be so hard;
but to have no one to speak to, and no one to think about, when work
is done, will be lonely indeed."

At any rate, he determined to change his room as soon as possible. It
mattered little where he went so that it was a change. He thought
over various tradesmen for whom he worked. Some of them might have an
attic, he cared not how small, that they might let him have in lieu
of paying him for his work. Even if they never spoke to him, it would
be better to be in a house where he knew something of those
downstairs, than to lodge in one where he was an utter stranger to
all. He had gone round to the shops where he worked, on the day after
his father's death, to explain that he could not come again until
after the funeral, and he resolved that next morning he would ask
each in turn whether he could obtain a lodging with them.

The sun was already setting when he rose from the bank on which he
had seated himself, and returned to the city. The room did not feel
so lonely to him as it would have done had he not been accustomed to
spending the evenings alone. He took out his little hoard and counted
it. After paying the expenses of the funeral there would still remain
sufficient to keep him for three or four months should he fall ill,
or, from any cause, lose his work. He had one good suit of clothes
that had been bought on his return to England,--when his father
thought that they would assuredly be going down almost immediately to
take possession of the old Hall,--and the rest were all in fair
condition.

The next day he began his work again; he had two visits to pay of an
hour each, and one of two hours, and the spare time between these he
filled up by calling at two or three other shops to make up for the
arrears of work during the last few days.

The last place he had to visit was that at which he had the longest
task to perform. It was at a ship-chandler's in Tower Street, a large
and dingy house, the lower portion being filled with canvas, cordage,
barrels of pitch and tar, candles, oil, and matters of all sorts
needed by ship-masters, including many cannon of different sizes,
piles of balls, anchors, and other heavy work, all of which were
stowed away in a yard behind it. The owner of this store was a
one-armed man. His father had kept it before him, but he himself,
after working there long enough to become a citizen and a member of
the Ironmongers' Guild, had quarrelled with his father and had taken
to the sea. For twenty years he had voyaged to many lands,
principally in ships trading in the Levant, and had passed through a
great many adventures, including several fights with the Moorish
corsairs. In the last voyage he took, he had had his arm shot off by
a ball from a Greek pirate among the Islands. He had long before made
up his differences with his father, but had resisted the latter's
entreaties that he should give up the sea and settle down at the
shop; on his return after this unfortunate voyage he told him that he
had come home to stay.

"I shall be able to help about the stores after a while," he said,
"but I shall never be the man I was on board ship. It will be hard
work to take to measuring out canvas and to weighing iron, after a
free life on the sea, but I don't so much mind now I have had my
share of adventures; though I dare say I should have gone on for a
few more years if that rascally ball had not carried away my arm. I
don't know but that it is best as it is, for the older I got the
harder I should find it to fall into new ways and to settle down
here."

"Anyhow, I am glad you are back, David," his father said.

"You are forty-five, and though I don't say it would not have been
better if you had remained here from the first, you have learnt many
things you would not have learnt here. You know just the sort of
things that masters of ships require, and what canvas and cables and
cordage will suit their wants. Besides, customers like to talk with
men of their own way of thinking, and sailors more, I think, than
other men. You know, too, most of the captains who sail up the
Mediterranean, and may be able to bring fresh custom into the shop.
Therefore, do not think that you will be of no use to me. As to your
wife and child, there is plenty of room for them as well as for you,
and it will be better for them here, with you always at hand, than it
would be for them to remain over at Rotherhithe and only to see you
after the shutters are up."

Eight years later Captain Dave, as he was always called, became sole
owner of the house and business. A year after he did so he was
lamenting to a friend the trouble that he had with his accounts.

"My father always kept that part of the business in his own hands,"
he said, "and I find it a mighty heavy burden. Beyond checking a bill
of lading, or reading the marks on the bales and boxes, I never had
occasion to read or write for twenty years, and there has not been
much more of it for the last fifteen; and although I was a smart
scholar enough in my young days, my fingers are stiff with hauling at
ropes and using the marling-spike, and my eyes are not so clear as
they used to be, and it is no slight toil and labour to me to make up
an account for goods sold. John Wilkes, my head shopman, is a handy
fellow; he was my boatswain in the _Kate_, and I took him on when we
found that the man who had been my father's right hand for twenty
years had been cheating him all along. We got on well enough as long
as I could give all my time in the shop; but he is no good with the
pen--all he can do is to enter receipts and sales.

"He has a man under him, who helps him in measuring out the right
length of canvas and cables or for weighing a chain or an anchor, and
knows enough to put down the figures; but that is all. Then there are
the two smiths and the two apprentices; they don't count in the
matter. Robert Ashford, the eldest apprentice, could do the work, but
I have no fancy for him; he does not look one straight in the face as
one who is honest and above board should do. I shall have to keep a
clerk, and I know what it will be--he will be setting me right, and I
shall not feel my own master; he will be out of place in my crew
altogether. I never liked pursers; most of them are rogues. Still, I
suppose it must come to that."

"I have a boy come in to write my bills and to make up my accounts,
who would be just the lad for you, Captain Dave. He is the son of a
broken-down Cavalier, but he is a steady, honest young fellow, and I
fancy his pen keeps his father, who is a roystering blade, and spends
most of his time at the taverns. The boy comes to me for an hour,
twice a week; he writes as good a hand as any clerk and can reckon as
quickly, and I pay him but a groat a week, which was all he asked."

"Tell him to come to me, then. I should want him every day, if he
could manage it, and it would be the very thing for me."

"I am sure you would like him," the other said; "he is a good-looking
young fellow, and his face speaks for him without any recommendation.
I was afraid at first that he would not do for me; I thought there
was too much of the gentleman about him. He has good manners, and a
gentle sort of way. He has been living in France all his life, and
though he has never said anything about his family--indeed he talks
but little, he just comes in and does his work and goes away--I fancy
his father was one of King Charles's men and of good blood."

"Well, that doesn't sound so well," the sailor said, "but anyhow I
should like to have a look at him."

"He comes to me to-morrow at eleven and goes at twelve," the man
said, "and I will send him round to you when he has done."

Cyril had gone round the next morning to the ships' store.

"So you are the lad that works for my neighbour Anderson?" Captain
Dave said, as he surveyed him closely. "I like your looks, lad, but I
doubt whether we shall get on together. I am an old sailor, you know,
and I am quick of speech and don't stop to choose my words, so if you
are quick to take offence it would be of no use your coming to me."

"I don't think I am likely to take offence," Cyril said quietly; "and
if we don't get on well together, sir, you will only have to tell me
that you don't want me any longer; but I trust you will not have
often the occasion to use hard words, for at any rate I will do my
best to please you."

"You can't say more, lad. Well, let us have a taste of your quality.
Come in here," and he led him into a little room partitioned off from
the shop. "There, you see," and he opened a book, "is the account of
the sales and orders yesterday; the ready-money sales have got to be
entered in that ledger with the red cover; the sales where no money
passed have to be entered to the various customers or ships in the
ledger. I have made out a list--here it is--of twelve accounts that
have to be drawn out from that ledger and sent in to customers. You
will find some of them are of somewhat long standing, for I have been
putting off that job. Sit you down here. When you have done one or
two of them I will have a look at your work, and if that is
satisfactory we will have a talk as to what hours you have got
disengaged, and what days in the week will suit you best."

It was two hours before Captain Dave came in again. Cyril had just
finished the work; some of the accounts were long ones, and the
writing was so crabbed that it took him some time to decipher it.

"Well, how are you getting on, lad?" the Captain asked.

"I have this moment finished the last account."

"What! Do you mean to say that you have done them all! Why, it would
have taken me all my evenings for a week. Now, hand me the books; it
is best to do things ship-shape."

He first compared the list of the sales with the entries, and then
Cyril handed him the twelve accounts he had drawn up. Captain David
did not speak until he had finished looking through them.

"I would not have believed all that work could have been done in two
hours," he said, getting up from his chair. "Orderly and well
written, and without a blot. The King's secretary could not have done
better! Well, now you have seen the list of sales for a day, and I
take it that be about the average, so if you come three times a week
you will always have two days' sales to enter in the ledger. There
are a lot of other books my father used to keep, but I have never had
time to bother myself about them, and as I have got on very well so
far, I do not see any occasion for you to do so, for my part it seems
to me that all these books are only invented by clerks to give
themselves something to do to fill up their time. Of course, there
won't be accounts to send out every day. Do you think with two hours,
three times a week, you could keep things straight?"

"I should certainly think so, sir, but I can hardly say until I try,
because it seems to me that there must be a great many items, and I
can't say how long it will take entering all the goods received under
their proper headings; but if the books are thoroughly made up now, I
should think I could keep them all going."

"That they are not," Captain David said ruefully; "they are all
horribly in arrears. I took charge of them myself three years ago,
and though I spend three hours every evening worrying over them, they
get further and further in arrears. Look at those files over there,"
and he pointed to three long wires, on each of which was strung a
large bundle of papers; "I am afraid you will have to enter them all
up before you can get matters into ship-shape order. The daily sale
book is the only one that has been kept up regularly."

"But these accounts I have made up, sir? Probably in those files
there are many other goods supplied to the same people."

"Of course there are, lad, though I did not think of it before. Well,
we must wait, then, until you can make up the arrears a bit, though I
really want to get some money in."

"Well, sir, I might write at the bottom of each bill 'Account made up
to,' and then put in the date of the latest entry charged."

"That would do capitally, lad--I did not think of that. I see you
will be of great use to me. I can buy and sell, for I know the value
of the goods I deal in; but as to accounts, they are altogether out
of my way. And now, lad, what do you charge?"

"I charge a groat for two hours' work, sir; but if I came to you
three times a week, I would do it for a little less."

"No, lad, I don't want to beat you down; indeed, I don't think you
charge enough. However, let us say, to begin with, three groats a
week."

This had been six weeks before Sir Aubrey Shenstone's death; and in
the interval Cyril had gradually wiped off all the arrears, and had
all the books in order up to date, to the astonishment of his
employer.




CHAPTER II

A CHANGE FOR THE BETTER


"I am glad to see you again, lad," Captain David said, when Cyril
entered his shop. "I have been thinking of the news you gave me last
week, and the mistress and I have been talking it over. Where are you
lodging?"

"I have been lodging until now in Holborn," Cyril replied; "but I am
going to move."

"Yes; that is what we thought you would be doing. It is always better
to make a change after a loss. I don't want to interfere in your
business, lad, but have you any friends you are thinking of going
to?"

"No, sir; I do not know a soul in London save those I work for."

"That is bad, lad--very bad. I was talking it over with my wife, and
I said that maybe you were lonely. I am sure, lad, you are one of the
right sort. I don't mean only in your work, for as for that I would
back you against any scrivener in London, but I mean about yourself.
It don't need half an eye to see that you have not been brought up to
this sort of thing, though you have taken to it so kindly, but there
is not one in a thousand boys of your age who would have settled down
to work and made their way without a friend to help them as you have
done; it shows that there is right good stuff in you. There, I am so
long getting under weigh that I shall never get into port if I don't
steer a straight course. Now, my ideas and my wife's come to this: if
you have got no friends you will have to take a lodging somewhere
among strangers, and then it would be one of two things--you would
either stop at home and mope by yourself, or you would go out, and
maybe get into bad company. If I had not come across you I should
have had to employ a clerk, and he would either have lived here with
us or I should have had to pay him enough to keep house for himself.
Now in fact you are a clerk; for though you are only here for six
hours a week--you do all the work there is to do, and no clerk could
do more. Well, we have got an attic upstairs which is not used, and
if you like to come here and live with us, my wife and I will make
you heartily welcome."

"Thank you, indeed," Cyril said warmly. "It is of all things what I
should like; but of course I should wish to pay you for my board. I
can afford to do so if you will employ me for the same hours as at
present."

"No, I would not have that, lad; but if you like we can reckon your
board against what I now pay you. We feed John Wilkes and the two
apprentices, and one mouth extra will make but little difference. I
don't want it to be a matter of obligation, so we will put your board
against the work you do for me. I shall consider that we are making a
good bargain."

"It is your pleasure to say so, sir, but I cannot tell you what a
load your kind offer takes off my mind. The future has seemed very
dark to me."

"Very well. That matter is settled, then. Come upstairs with me and I
will present you to my wife and daughter; they have heard me speak of
you so often that they will be glad to see you. In the first place,
though, I must ask you your name. Since you first signed articles and
entered the crew I have never thought of asking you."

"My name is Cyril, sir--Cyril Shenstone."

His employer nodded and at once led the way upstairs. A motherly
looking woman rose from the seat where she was sitting at work, as
they entered the living-room.

"This is my Prince of Scriveners, Mary, the lad I have often spoken
to you about. His name is Cyril; he has accepted the proposal we
talked over last night, and is going to become one of the crew on
board our ship."

"I am glad to see you," she said to Cyril, holding out her hand to
him. "I have not met you before, but I feel very grateful to you.
Till you came, my husband was bothered nearly out of his wits; he
used to sit here worrying over his books, and writing from the time
the shop closed till the hour for bed, and Nellie and I dared not to
say as much as a word. Now we see no more of his books, and he is
able to go out for a walk in the fields with us as he used to do
before."

"It is very kind of you to say so, Mistress," Cyril said earnestly;
"but it is I, on the contrary, who am deeply grateful to you for the
offer Captain Dave has been good enough to make me. You cannot tell
the pleasure it has given me, for you cannot understand how lonely
and friendless I have been feeling. Believe me, I will strive to give
you as little trouble as possible, and to conform myself in all ways
to your wishes."

At this moment Nellie Dowsett came into the room. She was a pretty
girl some eighteen years of age.

"This is Cyril, your father's assistant, Nellie," her mother said.

"You are welcome, Master Cyril. I have been wanting to see you.
Father has been praising you up to the skies so often that I have had
quite a curiosity to see what you could be like."

"Your father is altogether too good, Mistress Nellie, and makes far
more of my poor ability than it deserves."

"And is he going to live with us, mother?" Nellie asked.

"Yes, child; he has accepted your father's offer."

Nellie clapped her hands.

"That is good," she said. "I shall expect you to escort me out
sometimes, Cyril. Father always wants me to go down to the wharf to
look at the ships or to go into the fields; but I want to go
sometimes to see the fashions, and there is no one to take me, for
John Wilkes always goes off to smoke a pipe with some sailor or
other, and the apprentices are stupid and have nothing to say for
themselves; and besides, one can't walk alongside a boy in an
apprentice cap."

"I shall be very happy to, Mistress, when my work is done, though I
fear that I shall make but a poor escort, for indeed I have had no
practice whatever in the esquiring of dames."

"I am sure you will do very well," Nellie said, nodding approvingly.
"Is it true that you have been in France? Father said he was told
so."

"Yes; I have lived almost all my life in France."

"And do you speak French?"

"Yes; I speak it as well as English."

"It must have been very hard to learn?"

"Not at all. It came to me naturally, just as English did."

"You must not keep him any longer now, Nellie; he has other
appointments to keep, and when he has done that, to go and pack up
his things and see that they are brought here by a porter. He can
answer some more of your questions when he comes here this evening."

Cyril returned to Holborn with a lighter heart than he had felt for a
long time. His preparations for the move took him but a short time,
and two hours later he was installed in a little attic in the
ship-chandler's house. He spent half-an-hour in unpacking his things,
and then heard a stentorian shout from below,--

"Masthead, ahoy! Supper's waiting."

Supposing that this hail was intended for himself, he at once went
downstairs. The table was laid. Mistress Dowsett took her seat at the
head; her husband sat on one side of her, and Nellie on the other.
John Wilkes sat next to his master, and beyond him the elder of the
two apprentices. A seat was left between Nellie and the other
apprentice for Cyril.

"Now our crew is complete, John," Captain Dave said. "We have been
wanting a supercargo badly."

"Ay, ay, Captain Dave, there is no doubt we have been short-handed in
that respect; but things have been more ship-shape lately."

"That is so, John. I can make a shift to keep the vessel on her
course, but when it comes to writing up the log, and keeping the
reckoning, I make but a poor hand at it. It was getting to be as bad
as that voyage of the _Jane_ in the Levant, when the supercargo had
got himself stabbed at Lemnos."

"I mind it, Captain--I mind it well. And what a trouble there was
with the owners when we got back again!"

"Yes, yes," the Captain said; "it was worse work than having a brush
with a Barbary corsair. I shall never forget that day. When I went to
the office to report, the three owners were all in.

"'Well, Captain Dave, back from your voyage?' said the littlest of
the three. 'Made a good voyage, I hope?'

"First-rate, says I, except that the supercargo got killed at Lemnos
by one of them rascally Greeks.

"'Dear, dear,' said another of them--he was a prim, sanctimonious
sort--'Has our brother Jenkins left us?'

"I don't know about his leaving us, says I, but we left him sure
enough in a burying-place there.

"'And how did you manage without him?'

"I made as good a shift as I could, I said. I have sold all the
cargo, and I have brought back a freight of six tons of Turkey figs,
and four hundred boxes of currants. And these two bags hold the
difference.

"'Have you brought the books with you, Captain?'

"Never a book, said I. I have had to navigate the ship and to look
after the crew, and do the best I could at each port. The books are
on board, made out up to the day before the supercargo was killed,
three months ago; but I have never had time to make an entry since.

"They looked at each other like owls for a minute or two, and then
they all began to talk at once. How had I sold the goods? had I
charged the prices mentioned in the invoice? what percentage had I
put on for profit? and a lot of other things. I waited until they
were all out of breath, and then I said I had not bothered about
invoices. I knew pretty well the prices such things cost in England.
I clapped on so much more for the expenses of the voyage and a fair
profit. I could tell them what I had paid for the figs and the
currants, and for some bags of Smyrna sponges I had bought, but as to
the prices I had charged, it was too much to expect that I could
carry them in my head. All I knew was I had paid for the things I had
bought, I had paid all the port dues and other charges, I had
advanced the men one-fourth of their wages each month, and I had
brought them back the balance.

"Such a hubbub you never heard. One would have thought they would
have gone raving mad. The sanctimonious partner was the worst of the
lot. He threatened me with the Lord Mayor and the Aldermen, and went
on till I thought he would have had a fit.

"Look here, says I, at last, I'll tell you what I will do. You tell
me what the cargo cost you altogether, and put on so much for the
hire of the ship. I will pay you for them and settle up with the
crew, and take the cargo and sell it. That is a fair offer. And I
advise you to keep civil tongues in your heads, or I will knock them
off and take my chance before the Lord Mayor for assault and battery.

"With that I took off my coat and laid it on a bench. I reckon they
saw that I was in earnest, and they just sat as mum as mice. Then the
little man said, in a quieter sort of voice,--

"'You are too hasty, Captain Dowsett. We know you to be an honest man
and a good sailor, and had no suspicion that you would wrong us; but
no merchant in the City of London could hear that his business had
been conducted in such a way as you have carried it through without
for a time losing countenance. Let us talk the matter over reasonably
and quietly.'

"That is just what I am wanting, I said; and if there hasn't been
reason and quiet it is from no fault of mine.

"'Well, please to put your coat on again, Captain, and let us see how
matters stand!'

"Then they took their ink-horns and pens, and, on finding out what I
had paid for the figs and other matters, they reckoned them up; then
they put down what I said was due to the sailors and the mate and
myself; then they got out some books, and for an hour they were busy
reckoning up figures; then they opened the bags and counted up the
gold we had brought home. Well, when they had done, you would hardly
have known them for the same men. First of all, they went through all
their calculations again to be sure they had made no mistake about
them; then they laid down their pens, and the sanctimonious man
mopped the perspiration from his face, and the others smiled at each
other. Then the biggest of the three, who had scarcely spoken before,
said,--

"'Well, Captain Dowsett, I must own that my partners were a little
hasty. The result of our calculations is that the voyage has been a
satisfactory one, I may almost say very satisfactory, and that you
must have disposed of the goods to much advantage. It has been a new
and somewhat extraordinary way of doing business, but I am bound to
say that the result has exceeded our expectations, and we trust that
you will command the _Jane_ for many more voyages.'

"Not for me, says I. You can hand me over the wages due to me, and
you will find the _Jane_ moored in the stream just above the Tower.
You will find her in order and shipshape; but never again do I set my
foot on board her or on any other vessel belonging to men who have
doubted my honesty.

"Nor did I. I had a pretty good name among traders, and ten days
later I started for the Levant again in command of a far smarter
vessel than the _Jane_ had ever been."

"And we all went with you, Captain," John Wilkes said, "every man
jack of us. And on her very next voyage the _Jane_ was captured by
the Algerines, and I reckon there are some of the poor fellows
working as slaves there now; for though Blake did blow the place
pretty nigh out of water a few years afterwards, it is certain that
the Christian slaves handed over to him were not half those the Moors
had in their hands."

"It would seem, Captain Dowsett, from your story, that you can manage
very well without a supercargo?" Cyril said quietly.

"Ay, lad; but you see that was a ready-money business. I handed over
the goods and took the cash; there was no accounts to be kept. It was
all clear and above board. But it is a different thing in this ship
altogether, when, instead of paying down on the nail for what they
get, you have got to keep an account of everything and send in all
their items jotted down in order. Why, Nellie, your tongue seems
quieter than usual."

"You have not given me a chance, father. You have been talking ever
since we sat down to table."

Supper was now over. The two apprentices at once retired. Cyril would
have done the same, but Mistress Dowsett said,--

"Sit you still, Cyril. The Captain says that you are to be considered
as one of the officers of the ship, and we shall be always glad to
have you here, though of course you can always go up to your own
room, or go out, when you feel inclined."

"I have to go out three times a week to work," Cyril said; "but all
the other evenings I shall be glad indeed to sit here, Mistress
Dowsett. You cannot tell what a pleasure it is to me to be in an
English home like this."

It was not long before John Wilkes went out.

"He is off to smoke his pipe," the Captain said. "I never light mine
till he goes. I can't persuade him to take his with me; he insists it
would not be manners to smoke in the cabin."

"He is quite right, father," Nellie said. "It is bad enough having
you smoke here. When mother's friends or mine come in they are
well-nigh choked; they are not accustomed to it as we are, for a
respectable London citizen does not think of taking tobacco."

"I am a London citizen, Nellie, but I don't set up any special claim
to respectability. I am a sea-captain, though that rascally Greek
cannon-ball and other circumstances have made a trader of me, sorely
against my will; and if I could not have my pipe and my glass of grog
here I would go and sit with John Wilkes in the tavern at the corner
of the street, and I suppose that would not be even as respectable as
smoking here."

"Nellie doesn't mean, David, that she wants you to give up smoking;
only she thinks that John is quite right to go out to take his pipe.
And I must say I think so too. You know that when you have
sea-captains of your acquaintance here, you always send the maid off
to bed and smoke in the kitchen."

"Ay, ay, my dear, I don't want to turn your room into a fo'castle.
There is reason in all things. I suppose you don't smoke, Master
Cyril?"

"No, Captain Dave, I have never so much as thought of such a thing.
In France it is the fashion to take snuff, but the habit seemed to me
a useless one, and I don't think that I should ever have taken to
it."

"I wonder," Captain Dave said, after they had talked for some time,
"that after living in sight of the sea for so long your thoughts
never turned that way."

"I cannot say that I have never thought of it," Cyril said. "I have
thought that I should greatly like to take foreign voyages, but I
should not have cared to go as a ship's boy, and to live with men so
ignorant that they could not even write their own names. My thoughts
have turned rather to the Army; and when I get older I think of
entering some foreign service, either that of Sweden or of one of the
Protestant German princes. I could obtain introductions through which
I might enter as a cadet, or gentleman volunteer. I have learnt
German, and though I cannot speak it as I can French or English, I
know enough to make my way in it."

"Can you use your sword, Cyril?" Nellie Dowsett asked.

"I have had very good teaching," Cyril replied, "and hope to be able
to hold my own."

"Then you are not satisfied with this mode of life?" Mistress Dowsett
said.

"I am satisfied with it, Mistress, inasmuch as I can earn money
sufficient to keep me. But rather than settle down for life as a city
scrivener, I would go down to the river and ship on board the first
vessel that would take me, no matter where she sailed for."

"I think you are wrong," Mistress Dowsett said gravely. "My husband
tells me how clever you are at figures, and you might some day get a
good post in the house of one of our great merchants."

"Maybe it would be so," Cyril said; "but such a life would ill suit
me. I have truly a great desire to earn money: but it must be in some
way to suit my taste."

"And why do you want to earn a great deal of money, Cyril?" Nellie
laughed, while her mother shook her head disapprovingly.

"I wish to have enough to buy my father's estate back again," he
said, "and though I know well enough that it is not likely I shall
ever do it, I shall fight none the worse that I have such a hope in
my mind."

"Bravo, lad!" Captain Dave said. "I knew not that there was an estate
in the case, though I did hear that you were the son of a Royalist.
It is a worthy ambition, boy, though if it is a large one 'tis scarce
like that you will get enough to buy it back again."

"It is not a very large one," Cyril said. "'Tis down in Norfolk, but
it was a grand old house--at least, so I have heard my father say,
though I have but little remembrance of it, as I was but three years
old when I left it. My father, who was Sir Aubrey Shenstone, had
hoped to recover it; but he was one of the many who sold their
estates for far less than their value in order to raise money in the
King's service, and, as you are aware, none of those who did so have
been reinstated, but only those who, having had their land taken from
them by Parliament, recovered them because their owners had no
title-deeds to show, save the grant of Parliament that was of no
effect in the Courts. Thus the most loyal men--those who sold their
estates to aid the King--have lost all, while those that did not so
dispossess themselves in his service are now replaced on their land."

"It seems very unfair," Nellie said indignantly.

"It is unfair to them, assuredly, Mistress Nellie. And yet it would
be unfair to the men who bought, though often they gave but a tenth
of their value, to be turned out again unless they received their
money back. It is not easy to see where that money could come from,
for assuredly the King's privy purse would not suffice to pay all the
money, and equally certain is it that Parliament would not vote a
great sum for that purpose."

"It is a hard case, lad--a hard case," Captain Dave said, as he
puffed the smoke from his pipe. "Now I know how you stand, I blame,
you in no way that you long more for a life of adventure than to
settle down as a city scrivener. I don't think even my wife, much as
she thinks of the city, could say otherwise."

"It alters the case much," Mistress Dowsett said. "I did not know
that Cyril was the son of a Knight, though it was easy enough to see
that his manners accord not with his present position. Still there
are fortunes made in the city, and no honest work is dishonouring
even to a gentleman's son."

"Not at all, Mistress," Cyril said warmly. "'Tis assuredly not on
that account that I would fain seek more stirring employment; but it
was always my father's wish and intention that, should there be no
chance of his ever regaining the estate, I should enter foreign
service, and I have always looked forward to that career."

"Well, I will wager that you will do credit to it, lad," Captain Dave
said. "You have proved that you are ready to turn your hand to any
work that may come to you. You have shown a manly spirit, my boy, and
I honour you for it; and by St. Anthony I believe that some day,
unless a musket-ball or a pike-thrust brings you up with a round
turn, you will live to get your own back again."

Cyril remained talking for another two hours, and then betook himself
to bed. After he had gone, Mistress Dowsett said, after a pause,--

"Do you not think, David, that, seeing that Cyril is the son of a
Knight, it would be more becoming to give him the room downstairs
instead of the attic where he is now lodged?"

The old sailor laughed.

"That is woman-kind all over," he said. "It was good enough for him
before, and now forsooth, because the lad mentioned, and assuredly in
no boasting way, that his father had been a Knight, he is to be
treated differently. He would not thank you himself for making the
change, dame. In the first place, it would make him uncomfortable,
and he might make an excuse to leave us altogether; and in the
second, you may be sure that he has been used to no better quarters
than those he has got. The Royalists in France were put to sore
shifts to live, and I fancy that he has fared no better since he came
home. His father would never have consented to his going out to earn
money by keeping the accounts of little city traders like myself had
it not been that he was driven to it by want. No, no, wife; let the
boy go on as he is, and make no difference in any way. I liked him
before, and I like him all the better now, for putting his
gentlemanship in his pocket and setting manfully to work instead of
hanging on the skirts of some Royalist who has fared better than his
father did. He is grateful as it is--that is easy to see--for our
taking him in here. We did that partly because he proved a good
worker and has taken a lot of care off my shoulders, partly because
he was fatherless and alone. I would not have him think that we are
ready to do more because he is a Knight's son. Let the boy be, and
suffer him to steer his ship his own course. If, when the time comes,
we can further his objects in any way we will do it with right good
will. What do you think of him, Nellie?" he asked, changing the
subject.

"He is a proper young fellow, father, and I shall be well content to
go abroad escorted by him instead of having your apprentice, Robert
Ashford, in attendance on me. He has not a word to say for himself,
and truly I like him not in anyway."

"He is not a bad apprentice, Nellie, and John Wilkes has but seldom
cause to find fault with him, though I own that I have no great
liking myself for him; he never seems to look one well in the face,
which, I take it, is always a bad sign. I know no harm of him; but
when his apprenticeship is out, which it will be in another year, I
shall let him go his own way, for I should not care to have him on
the premises."

"Methinks you are very unjust, David. The lad is quiet and regular in
his ways; he goes twice every Sunday to the Church of St. Alphage,
and always tells me the texts of the sermons."

The Captain grunted.

"Maybe so, wife; but it is easy to get hold of the text of a sermon
without having heard it. I have my doubts whether he goes as
regularly to St. Alphage's as he says he does. Why could he not go
with us to St. Bennet's?"

"He says he likes the administrations of Mr. Catlin better, David.
And, in truth, our parson is not one of the stirring kind."

"So much the better," Captain Dave said bluntly. "I like not these
men that thump the pulpit and make as if they were about to jump out
head foremost. However, I don't suppose there is much harm in the
lad, and it may be that his failure to look one in the face is not so
much his fault as that of nature, which endowed him with a villainous
squint. Well, let us turn in; it is past nine o'clock, and high time
to be a-bed."

Cyril seemed to himself to have entered upon a new life when he
stepped across the threshold of David Dowsett's store. All his cares
and anxieties had dropped from him. For the past two years he had
lived the life of an automaton, starting early to his work, returning
in the middle of the day to his dinner,--to which as often as not he
sat down alone,--and spending his evenings in utter loneliness in the
bare garret, where he was generally in bed long before his father
returned. He blamed himself sometimes during the first fortnight of
his stay here for the feeling of light-heartedness that at times came
over him. He had loved his father in spite of his faults, and should,
he told himself, have felt deeply depressed at his loss; but nature
was too strong for him. The pleasant evenings with Captain Dave and
his family were to him delightful; he was like a traveller who, after
a cold and cheerless journey, comes in to the warmth of a fire, and
feels a glow of comfort as the blood circulates briskly through his
veins. Sometimes, when he had no other engagements, he went out with
Nellie Dowsett, whose lively chatter was new and very amusing to him.
Sometimes they went up into Cheapside, and into St. Paul's, but more
often sallied out of the city at Aldgate, and walked into the fields.
On these occasions he carried a stout cane that had been his
father's, for Nellie tried in vain to persuade him to gird on a
sword.

"You are a gentleman, Cyril," she would argue, "and have a right to
carry one."

"I am for the present a sober citizen, Mistress Nellie, and do not
wish to assume to be of any other condition. Those one sees with
swords are either gentlemen of the Court, or common bullies, or maybe
highwaymen. After nightfall it is different; for then many citizens
carry their swords, which indeed are necessary to protect them from
the ruffians who, in spite of the city watch, oftentimes attack quiet
passers-by; and if at any time I escort you to the house of one of
your friends, I shall be ready to take my sword with me. But in the
daytime there is no occasion for a weapon, and, moreover, I am full
young to carry one, and this stout cane would, were it necessary, do
me good service, for I learned in France the exercise that they call
the _bâton_, which differs little from our English singlestick."

While Cyril was received almost as a member of the family by Captain
Dave and his wife, and found himself on excellent terms with John
Wilkes, he saw that he was viewed with dislike by the two
apprentices. He was scarcely surprised at this. Before his coming,
Robert Ashford had been in the habit of escorting his young mistress
when she went out, and had no doubt liked these expeditions, as a
change from the measuring out of ropes and weighing of iron in the
store. Then, again, the apprentices did not join in the conversation
at table unless a remark was specially addressed to them; and as
Captain Dave was by no means fond of his elder apprentice, it was but
seldom that he spoke to him. Robert Ashford was between eighteen and
nineteen. He was no taller than Cyril, but it would have been
difficult to judge his age by his face, which had a wizened look;
and, as Nellie said one day, in his absence, he might pass very well
for sixty.

It was easy enough for Cyril to see that Robert Ashford heartily
disliked him; the covert scowls that he threw across the table at
meal-time, and the way in which he turned his head and feigned to be
too busy to notice him as he passed through the shop, were sufficient
indications of ill-will. The younger apprentice, Tom Frost, was but a
boy of fifteen; he gave Cyril the idea of being a timid lad. He did
not appear to share his comrade's hostility to him, but once or
twice, when Cyril came out from the office after making up the
accounts of the day, he fancied that the boy glanced at him with an
expression of anxiety, if not of terror.

"If it were not," Cyril said to himself, "that Tom is clearly too
nervous and timid to venture upon an act of dishonesty, I should say
that he had been pilfering something; but I feel sure that he would
not attempt such a thing as that, though I am by no means certain
that Robert Ashford, with his foxy face and cross eyes, would not
steal his master's goods or any one else's did he get the chance.
Unless he were caught in the act, he could do it with impunity, for
everything here is carried on in such a free-and-easy fashion that
any amount of goods might be carried off without their being missed."

After thinking the matter over, he said, one afternoon when his
employer came in while he was occupied at the accounts,--

"I have not seen anything of a stock-book, Captain Dave. Everything
else is now straight, and balanced up to to-day. Here is the book of
goods sold, the book of goods received, and the ledger with the
accounts; but there is no stock-book such as I find in almost all the
other places where I work."

"What do I want with a stock-book?" Captain Dave asked.

"You cannot know how you stand without it," Cyril replied. "You know
how much you have paid, and how much you have received during the
year; but unless you have a stock-book you do not know whether the
difference between the receipts and expenditure represents profit,
for the stock may have so fallen in value during the year that you
may really have made a loss while seeming to make a profit."

"How can that be?" Captain Dave asked. "I get a fair profit on every
article."

"There ought to be a profit, of course," Cyril said; "but sometimes
it is found not to be so. Moreover, if there is a stock-book you can
tell at any time, without the trouble of opening bins and weighing
metal, how much stock you have of each article you sell, and can
order your goods accordingly."

"How would you do that?"

"It is very simple, Captain Dave," Cyril said. "After taking stock of
the whole of the goods, I should have a ledger in which each article
would have a page or more to itself, and every day I should enter
from John Wilkes's sales-book a list of the goods that have gone out,
each under its own heading. Thus, at any moment, if you were to ask
how much chain you had got in stock I could tell you within a fathom.
When did you take stock last?"

"I should say it was about fifteen months since. It was only
yesterday John Wilkes was saying we had better have a thorough
overhauling."

"Quite time, too, I should think, Captain Dave. I suppose you have
got the account of your last stock-taking, with the date of it?"

"Oh, yes, I have got that;" and the Captain unlocked his desk and
took out an account-book. "It has been lying there ever since. It
took a wonderful lot of trouble to do, and I had a clerk and two men
in for a fortnight, for of course John and the boys were attending to
their usual duties. I have often wondered since why I should have had
all that trouble over a matter that has never been of the slightest
use to me."

"Well, I hope you will take it again, sir; it is a trouble, no doubt,
but you will find it a great advantage."

"Are you sure you think it needful, Cyril?"

"Most needful, Captain Dave. You will see the advantage of it
afterwards."

"Well, if you think so, I suppose it must be done," the Captain said,
with a sigh; "but it will be giving you a lot of trouble to keep this
new book of yours."

"That is nothing, sir. Now that I have got all the back work up it
will be a simple matter to keep the daily work straight. I shall find
ample time to do it without any need of lengthening my hours."

Cyril now set to work in earnest, and telling Mrs. Dowsett he had
some books that he wanted to make up in his room before going to bed,
he asked her to allow him to keep his light burning.

Mrs. Dowsett consented, but shook her head and said he would
assuredly injure his health if he worked by candle light.

Fortunately, John Wilkes had just opened a fresh sales-book, and
Cyril told him that he wished to refer to some particulars in the
back books. He first opened the ledger by inscribing under their
different heads the amount of each description of goods kept in stock
at the last stock-taking, and then entered under their respective
heads all the sales that had been made, while on an opposite page he
entered the amount purchased. It took him a month's hard work, and he
finished it on the very day that the new stock-taking concluded.




CHAPTER III

A THIEF SOMEWHERE


Two days after the conclusion of the stock-taking, Cyril said, after
breakfast was over,--

"Would it trouble you, Captain Dave, to give me an hour up here
before you go downstairs to the counting-house. I am free for two
hours now, and there is a matter upon which I should like to speak to
you privately."

"Certainly, lad," the old sailor said, somewhat surprised. "We shall
be quiet enough here, as soon as the table is cleared. My dame and
Nellie will be helping the maid do up the cabins, and will then be
sallying out marketing."

When the maid had cleared the table, Cyril went up to his room and
returned with a large ledger and several smaller books.

"I have, for the last month, Captain Dave, been making up this
stock-book for my own satisfaction."

"Bless me, lad, why have you taken all that trouble? This accounts,
then, for your writing so long at night, for which my dame has been
quarrelling with you!"

"It was interesting work," Cyril said quietly. "Now, you see, sir,"
he went on, opening the big ledger, "here are the separate accounts
under each head. These pages, you see, are for heavy cables for
hawsers; of these, at the date of the last stock-taking, there were,
according to the book you handed to me, five hundred fathoms in
stock. These are the amounts you have purchased since. Now, upon the
other side are all the sales of this cable entered in the sales-book.
Adding them together, and deducting them from the other side, you
will see there should remain in stock four hundred and fifty fathoms.
According to the new stock-taking there are four hundred and
thirty-eight. That is, I take it, as near as you could expect to get,
for, in the measuring out of so many thousand fathoms of cable during
the fifteen months between the two stock-takings, there may well have
been a loss of the twelve fathoms in giving good measurement."

"That is so," Captain Dave said. "I always say to John Wilkes, 'Give
good measurement, John--better a little over than a little under.'
Nothing can be clearer or more satisfactory."

Cyril closed the book.

"I am sorry to say, Captain Dave, all the items are not so
satisfactory, and that I greatly fear that you have been robbed to a
considerable amount."

"Robbed, lad!" the Captain said, starting up from his chair. "Who
should rob me? Not John Wilkes, I can be sworn! Not the two
apprentices for a surety, for they never go out during the day, and
John keeps a sharp look-out upon them, and the entrance to the shop
is always locked and barred after work is over, so that none can
enter without getting the key, which, as you know, John always brings
up and hands to me as soon as he has fastened the door! You are
mistaken, lad, and although I know that your intentions are good, you
should be careful how you make a charge that might bring ruin to
innocent men. Carelessness there may be; but robbery! No; assuredly
not."

"I have not brought the charge without warrant, Captain Dave," Cyril
said gravely, "and if you will bear with me for a few minutes, I
think you will see that there is at least something that wants
looking into."

"Well, it is only fair after the trouble you have taken, lad, that I
should hear what you have to say; but it will need strong evidence
indeed to make me believe that there has been foul play."

"Well, sir," Cyril said, opening the ledger again, "in the first
place, I would point out that in all the heavy articles, such as
could not conveniently be carried away, the tally of the stock-takers
corresponds closely with the figures in this book. In best bower
anchors the figures are absolutely the same and, as you have seen, in
heavy cables they closely correspond. In the large ship's compasses,
the ship's boilers, and ship's galleys, the numbers tally exactly. So
it is with all the heavy articles; the main blocks are correct, and
all other heavy gear. This shows that John Wilkes's book is carefully
kept, and it would be strange indeed if heavy goods had all been
properly entered, and light ones omitted; but yet when we turn to
small articles, we find that there is a great discrepancy between the
figures. Here is the account, for instance, of the half-inch rope.
According to my ledger, there should be eighteen hundred fathoms in
stock, whereas the stock-takers found but three hundred and eighty.
In two-inch rope there is a deficiency of two hundred and thirty
fathoms, in one-inch rope of six hundred and twenty. These sizes, as
you know, are always in requisition, and a thief would find ready
purchasers for a coil of any of them. But, as might be expected, it
is in copper that the deficiency is most serious. Of fourteen-inch
bolts, eighty-two are short, of twelve-inch bolts a hundred and
thirty, of eight-inch three hundred and nine; and so on throughout
almost all the copper stores. According to your expenditure and
receipt-book, Captain Dave, you have made, in the last fifteen
months, twelve hundred and thirty pounds; but according to this book
your stock is less in value, by two thousand and thirty-four pounds,
than it should have been. You are, therefore, a poorer man than you
were at the beginning of this fifteen months' trading, by eight
hundred and four pounds."

Captain Dave sat down in his chair, breathing hard. He took out his
handkerchief and wiped the drops of perspiration from his forehead.

"Are you sure of this, boy?" he said hoarsely. "Are you sure that you
have made no mistake in your figures?"

"Quite sure," Cyril said firmly. "In all cases in which I have found
deficiencies I have gone through the books three times and compared
the figures, and I am sure that if you put the books into the hands
of any city accountant, he will bear out my figures."

For a time Captain Dave sat silent.

"Hast any idea," he said at last, "how this has come about?"

"I have none," Cyril replied. "That John Wilkes is not concerned in
it I am as sure as you are; and, thinking the matter over, I see not
how the apprentices could have carried off so many articles, some
heavy and some bulky, when they left the shop in the evening, without
John Wilkes noticing them. So sure am I, that my advice would be that
you should take John Wilkes into your confidence, and tell him how
matters stand. My only objection to that is that he is a hasty man,
and that I fear he would not be able to keep his countenance, so that
the apprentices would remark that something was wrong. I am far from
saying that they have any hand in it; it would be a grievous wrong to
them to have suspicions when there is no shadow of evidence against
them; but at any rate, if this matter is to be stopped and the
thieves detected, it is most important that they should have, if they
are guilty, no suspicion that they are in any way being watched, or
that these deficiencies have been discovered. If they have had a hand
in the matter they most assuredly had accomplices, for such goods
could not be disposed of by an apprentice to any dealer without his
being sure that they must have been stolen."

"You are right there, lad--quite right. Did John Wilkes know that I
had been robbed in this way he would get into a fury, and no words
could restrain him from falling upon the apprentices and beating them
till he got some of the truth out of them."

"They may be quite innocent," Cyril said. "It may be that the thieves
have discovered some mode of entry into the store either by opening
the shutters at the back, or by loosening a board, or even by delving
up under the ground. It is surely easier to believe this than that
the boys can have contrived to carry off so large a quantity of goods
under John Wilkes's eye."

"That is so, lad. I have never liked Robert Ashford, but God forbid
that I should suspect him of such crime only because his forehead is
as wrinkled as an ape's, and Providence has set his eyes crossways in
his head. You cannot always judge a ship by her upper works; she may
be ugly to the eye and yet have a clear run under water. Still, you
can't help going by what you see. I agree with you that if we tell
John Wilkes about this, those boys will know five minutes afterwards
that the ship is on fire; but if we don't tell him, how are we to get
to the bottom of what is going on?"

"That is a difficult question, but a few days will not make much
difference, when we know that it has been going on for over a year,
and may, for aught we know, have been going on much longer. The first
thing, Captain Dave, is to send these books to an accountant, for him
to go through them and check my figures."

"There is no need for that, lad. I know how careful you are, and you
cannot have gone so far wrong as all this."

"No, sir, I am sure that there is no mistake; but, for your own sake
as well as mine, it were well that you should have the signature of
an accountant to the correctness of the books. If you have to lay the
matter before the magistrates, they would not take my testimony as to
your losses, and might even say that you were rash in acting upon the
word of a boy like myself, and you might then be obliged to have the
accounts made up anew, which would cost you more, and cause much
delay in the process; whereas, if you put in your books and say that
their correctness is vouched for by an accountant, no question would
arise on it; nor would there be any delay now, for while the books
are being gone into, we can be trying to get to the bottom of the
matter here."

"Ay, ay, it shall be done, Master Cyril, as you say. But for the life
of me I don't see how we are to get at the bottom of the ship to find
out where she is leaking!"

"It seems to me that the first thing, Captain Dave, is to see to the
warehouse. As we agreed that the apprentices cannot have carried out
all these goods under John Wilkes's eye, and cannot have come down
night after night through the house, the warehouse must have been
entered from without. As I never go in there, it would be best that
you should see to this matter yourself. There are the fastenings of
the shutters in the first place, then the boardings all round. As for
me, I will look round outside. The window of my room looks into the
street, but if you will take me to one of the rooms at the back we
can look at the surroundings of the yard, and may gather some idea
whether the goods can have been passed over into any of the houses
abutting on it, or, as is more likely, into the lane that runs up by
its side."

The Captain led the way into one of the rooms at the back of the
house, and opening the casement, he and Cyril leaned out. The store
occupied fully half the yard, the rest being occupied by anchors,
piles of iron, ballast, etc. There were two or three score of guns of
various sizes piled on each other. A large store of cannon-ball was
ranged in a great pyramid close by. A wall some ten feet high
separated the yard from the lane Cyril had spoken of. On the left,
adjoining the warehouse, was the yard of the next shop, which
belonged to a wool-stapler. Behind were the backs of a number of
small houses crowded in between Tower Street and Leadenhall Street.

"I suppose you do not know who lives in those houses, Captain Dave?"

"No, indeed. The land is not like the sea. Afloat, when one sees a
sail, one wonders what is her nationality, and whither she is bound,
and still more whether she is an honest trader or a rascally pirate;
but here on land, one scarcely gives a thought as to who may dwell in
the houses round."

"I will walk round presently," Cyril said, "and gather, as far as I
can, who they are that live there; but, as I have said, I fancy it is
over that wall and into the alley that your goods have departed. The
apprentices' room is this side of the house, is it not?"

"Yes; John Wilkes sleeps in the room next to yours, and the door
opposite to his is that of the lads' room."

"Do the windows of any of the rooms look into that lane?"

"No; it is a blank wall on that side."

"There is the clock striking nine," Cyril said, starting. "It is time
for me to be off. Then you will take the books to-day, Captain Dave?"

"I will carry them off at once, and when I return will look narrowly
into the fastenings of the two windows and door from the warehouse
into the yard; and will take care to do so when the boys are engaged
in the front shop."

When his work was done, Cyril went round to the houses behind the
yard, and he found that they stood in a small court, with three or
four trees growing in the centre, and were evidently inhabited by
respectable citizens. Over the door of one was painted, "Joshua
Heddings, Attorney"; next to him was Gilbert Gushing, who dealt in
jewels, silks, and other precious commodities from the East; next to
him was a doctor, and beyond a dealer in spices. This was enough to
assure him that it was not through such houses as these that the
goods had been carried.

Cyril had not been back at the mid-day meal, for his work that day
lay up by Holborn Bar, where he had two customers whom he attended
with but half an hour's interval between the visits, and on the days
on which he went there he was accustomed to get something to eat at a
tavern hard by.

Supper was an unusually quiet meal. Captain Dave now and then asked
John Wilkes a question as to the business matters of the day, but
evidently spoke with an effort. Nellie rattled on as usual; but the
burden of keeping up the conversation lay entirely on her shoulders
and those of Cyril. After the apprentices had left, and John Wilkes
had started for his usual resort, the Captain lit his pipe. Nellie
signed to Cyril to come and seat himself by her in the window that
projected out over the street, and enabled the occupants of the seats
at either side to have a view up and down it.

"What have you been doing to father, Cyril?" she asked, in low tones;
"he has been quite unlike himself all day. Generally when he is out
of temper he rates everyone heartily, as if we were a mutinous crew,
but to-day he has gone about scarcely speaking; he hasn't said a
cross word to any of us, but several times when I spoke to him I got
no answer, and it is easy to see that he is terribly put out about
something. He was in his usual spirits at breakfast; then, you know,
he was talking with you for an hour, and it does not take much
guessing to see that it must have been something that passed between
you that has put him out. Now what was it?"

"I don't see why you should say that, Mistress Nellie. It is true we
did have a talk together, and he examined some fresh books I have
been making out and said that he was mightily pleased with my work. I
went away at nine o'clock, and something may have occurred to upset
him between that and dinner."

"All which means that you don't mean to tell me anything about it,
Master Cyril. Well, then, you may consider yourself in my black books
altogether," she said petulantly.

"I am sorry that you should say so," he said. "If it were true that
anything that I had said to him had ruffled him, it would be for him
to tell you, and not for me."

"Methinks I have treated Robert Ashford scurvily, and I shall take
him for my escort to see His Majesty attend service at St. Paul's
to-morrow."

Cyril smiled.

"I think it would be fair to give him a turn, Mistress, and I am glad
to see that you have such a kind thought."

Nellie rose indignantly, and taking her work sat down by the side of
her mother.

"It is a fine evening," Cyril said to Captain Dave, "and I think I
shall take a walk round. I shall return in an hour."

The Captain understood, by a glance Cyril gave him, that he was going
out for some purpose connected with the matter they had in hand.

"Ay, ay, lad," he said. "It is not good for you to be sitting moping
at home every evening. I have often wondered before that you did not
take a walk on deck before you turned in. I always used to do so
myself."

"I don't think there is any moping in it, Captain Dave," Cyril said,
with a laugh. "If you knew how pleasant the evenings have been to me
after the life I lived before, you would not say so."

Cyril's only object in going out, however, was to avoid the necessity
of having to talk with Dame Dowsett and Nellie. His thoughts were
running on nothing but the robbery, and he had found it very
difficult to talk in his usual manner, and to answer Nellie's
sprightly sallies. It was dark already. A few oil lamps gave a feeble
light here and there. At present he had formed no plan whatever of
detecting the thieves; he was as much puzzled as the Captain himself
as to how the goods could have been removed. It would be necessary,
of course, to watch the apprentices, but he did not think that
anything was likely to come out of this. It was the warehouse itself
that must be watched, in order to discover how the thieves made an
entry. His own idea was that they got over the wall by means of a
rope, and in some way managed to effect an entry into the warehouse.
The apprentices could hardly aid them unless they came down through
the house.

If they had managed to get a duplicate key of the door leading from
the bottom of the stairs to the shop, they could, of course, unbar
the windows, and pass things out--that part of the business would be
easy; but he could not believe that they would venture frequently to
pass down through the house. It was an old one, and the stairs
creaked. He himself was a light sleeper; he had got into the way of
waking at the slightest sound, from the long watches he had had for
his father's return, and felt sure that he should have heard them
open their door and steal along the passage past his room, however
quietly they might do it. He walked up the Exchange, then along
Cheapside as far as St. Paul's, and back. Quiet as it was in Thames
Street there was no lack of animation elsewhere. Apprentices were
generally allowed to go out for an hour after supper, the regulation
being that they returned to their homes by eight o'clock. Numbers of
these were about. A good many citizens were on their way home after
supping with friends. The city watch, with lanterns, patrolled the
streets, and not infrequently interfered in quarrels which broke out
among the apprentices. Cyril felt more solitary among the knots of
laughing, noisy lads than in the quiet streets, and was glad to be
home again. Captain Dave himself came down to open the door.

"I have just sent the women to bed," he said. "The two boys came in
five minutes ago. I thought you would not be long."

"I did not go out for anything particular," Cyril said; "but Mistress
Nellie insisted that there was something wrong with you, and that I
must know what it was about, so, feeling indeed indisposed to talk, I
thought it best to go out for a short time."

"Yes, yes. Women always want to know, lad. I have been long enough at
sea, you may be sure, to know that when anything is wrong, it is the
best thing to keep it from the passengers as long as you can."

"You took the books away this morning, Captain Dave?" Cyril asked as
they sat down.

"Ay, lad, I took them to Master Skinner, who bears as good a
reputation as any accountant in the city, and he promised to take
them in hand without loss of time; but I have been able to do nothing
here. John, or one or other of the boys, was always in the warehouse,
and I have had no opportunity of examining the door and shutters
closely. When the house is sound asleep we will take a lantern and go
down to look at them. I have been thinking that we must let John
Wilkes into this matter; it is too much to bear on my mind by myself.
He is my first mate, you see, and in time of danger, the first mate,
if he is worth anything, is the man the captain relies on for help."

"By all means tell him, then," Cyril said. "I can keep books, but I
have no experience in matters like this, and shall be very glad to
have his opinion and advice."

"There he is--half-past eight. He is as punctual as clockwork."

Cyril ran down and let John in.

"The Captain wants to speak to you," he said, "before you go up to
bed."

John, after carefully bolting the door, followed him upstairs.

"I have got some bad news for you, John. There, light your pipe
again, and sit down. My good dame has gone off to bed, and we have
got the cabin to ourselves."

John touched an imaginary hat and obeyed orders.

"The ship has sprung a bad leak, John. This lad here has found it
out, and it is well he did, for unless he had done so we should have
had her foundering under our feet without so much as suspecting
anything was going wrong."

The sailor took his newly-lighted pipe from between his lips and
stared at the Captain in astonishment.

"Yes, it is hard to believe, mate, but, by the Lord Harry, it is as I
say. There is a pirate about somewhere, and the books show that,
since the stock-taking fifteen months ago, he has eased the craft of
her goods to the tune of two thousand pounds and odd."

John Wilkes flung his pipe on to the table with such force that it
shivered into fragments.

"Dash my timbers!" he exclaimed. "Who is the man? You only give me
the orders, sir, and I am ready to range alongside and board him."

"That is what we have got to find out, John. That the goods have gone
is certain, but how they can have gone beats us altogether."

"Do you mean to say, Captain, that they have stolen them out of the
place under my eyes and me know nothing about it? It can't be, sir.
There must be some mistake. I know naught about figures, save enough
to put down the things I sell, but I don't believe as a thing has
gone out of the shop unbeknown to me. That yarn won't do for me,
sir," and he looked angrily at Cyril.

"It is true enough, John, for all that. The books have been balanced
up. We knew what was in stock fifteen months ago, and we knew from
your sale-book what has passed out of the shop, and from your
entry-book what has come in. We know now what there is remaining. We
find that in bulky goods, such as cables and anchors and ships'
boilers and suchlike, the accounts tally exactly, but in the small
rope, and above all in the copper, there is a big shrinkage. I will
read you the figures of some of them."

John's face grew longer and longer as he heard the totals read.

"Well, I'm jiggered!" he said, when the list was concluded. "I could
have sworn that the cargo was right according to the manifest. Well,
Captain, all I can say is, if that 'ere list be correct, the best
thing you can do is to send me adrift as a blind fool. I have kept my
tallies as correct as I could, and I thought I had marked down every
package that has left the ship, and here they must have been passing
out pretty nigh in cart-loads under my very eyes, and I knew nothing
about it."

"I don't blame you, John, more than I blame myself. I am generally
about on deck, and had no more idea that the cargo was being meddled
with than you had. I have been wrong in letting matters go on so long
without taking stock of them and seeing that it was all right; but I
never saw the need for it. This is what comes of taking to a trade
you know nothing about; we have just been like two children, thinking
that it was all plain and above board, and that we had nothing to do
but to sell our goods and to fill up again when the hold got empty.
Well, it is of no use talking over that part of the business. What we
have got to do is to find out this leak and stop it. We are pretty
well agreed, Cyril and me, that the things don't go out of the shop
by daylight. The question is, how do they go out at night?"

"I always lock up the hatches according to orders, Captain."

"Yes, I have no doubt you do, John; but maybe the fastenings have
been tampered with. The only way in which we see it can have been
managed is that someone has been in the habit of getting over the
wall between the yard and the lane, and then getting into the
warehouse somehow. It must have been done very often, for if the
things had been taken in considerable quantities you would have
noticed that the stock was short directly the next order came in. Now
I propose we light these two lanterns I have got here, and that we go
down and have a look round the hold."

Lighting the candles, they went downstairs. The Captain took out the
key and turned the lock. It grated loudly as he did so.

"That is a noisy lock," Cyril said.

"It wants oiling," John replied. "I have been thinking of doing it
for the last month, but it has always slipped out of my mind."

"At any rate," Cyril said, "it is certain that thieves could not have
got into the shop this way, for the noise would have been heard all
over the house."

The door between the shop and the warehouse was next unlocked. The
fastenings of the shutters and doors were first examined; there was
no sign of their having been tampered with. Each bolt and hasp was
tried, and the screws examined. Then they went round trying every one
of the stout planks that formed the side; all were firm and in good
condition.

"It beats me altogether," the Captain said, when they had finished
their examination. "The things cannot walk out of themselves; they
have got to be carried. But how the fellows who carry them get in is
more than I can say. There is nowhere else to look, is there, John?"

"Not that I can see, Captain."

They went to the door into the shop, and were about to close it, when
Cyril said,--

"Some of the things that are gone are generally kept in here,
Captain--the rope up to two inch, for example, and a good deal of
canvas, and most of the smaller copper fittings; so that, whoever the
thief is, he must have been in the habit of coming in here as well as
into the warehouse."

"That is so, lad. Perhaps they entered from this side."

"Will you hold the lantern here, John?" Cyril said.

The sailor held the lantern to the lock.

"There are no scratches nor signs of tools having been used here,"
Cyril said, examining both the lock and the door-post. "Whether the
thief came into the warehouse first, or not, he must have had a key."

The Captain nodded.

"Thieves generally carry a lot of keys with them, Cyril; and if one
does not quite fit they can file it until it does."

The shutters of the shop window and its fastenings, and those of the
door, were as secure as those of the warehouse, and, completely
puzzled, the party went upstairs again.

"There must be some way of getting in and out, although we can't find
it," Captain Dave said. "Things can't have gone off by themselves."

"It may be, Captain," John Wilkes said, "that some of the planks may
be loose."

"But we tried them all, John."

"Ay, they seem firm enough, but it may be that one of them is wedged
in, and that when the wedges are taken out it could be pulled off."

"I think you would have noticed it, John. If there was anything of
that sort it must be outside. However, we will take a good look round
the yard to-morrow. The warehouse is strongly built, and I don't
believe that any plank could be taken off and put back again, time
after time, without making a noise that would be heard in the house.
What do you think, Cyril?"

"I agree with you, Captain Dave. How the thieves make an entry I
can't imagine, but I don't believe that it is through the wall of the
warehouse. I am convinced that the robberies must have been very
frequent. Had a large amount been taken at a time, John Wilkes would
have been sure to notice it. Then, again, the thieves would not come
so often, and each time for a comparatively small amount of booty,
unless it could be managed without any serious risk or trouble.
However, now that we do know that they come, we shall have, I should
think, very little difficulty in finding out how it is done."

"You may warrant we will keep a sharp look-out," John Wilkes said
savagely. "If the Captain will give me the use of a room at the back
of the house, you may be sure I shan't close an eye till I have got
to the bottom of the matter. I am responsible for the cargo below,
and if I had kept as sharp an eye on the stores as I ought to have
done, this would not have happened. Only let me catch them trying to
board, and I will give them such a reception that I warrant me they
will sheer off with a bullet or two in them. I have got that pair of
boarding pistols, and a cutlass, hung up over my bed."

"You must not do that, John," the Captain said. "It isn't a matter of
beating off the pirates by pouring a broadside into them. Maybe you
might cripple them, more likely they would make off, and we want to
capture them. Therefore, I say, let us watch, and find out how they
do it. When we once know that, we can lay our plans for capturing
them the next time they come. I will take watch and watch with you."

"Well, if it goes on long, Captain, I won't say no to that; but for
to-night anyhow I will sit up alone."

"Very well, let it be so, John. But mind, whatever you see, you keep
as still as a mouse. Just steal to my room in your stockinged feet
directly you see anything moving. Open the door and say, 'Strange
sail in sight!' and I will be over at your window in no time. And
now, Cyril, you and I may as well turn in."

The night passed quietly.

"You saw nothing, I suppose, John?" the Captain said next morning,
after the apprentices had gone down from breakfast.

"Not a thing, Captain."

"Now we will go and have a look in the yard. Will you come, Cyril?"

"I should like to come," Cyril replied, "but, as I have never been
out there before, had you not better make some pretext for me to do
so. You might say, in the hearing of the apprentices, 'We may as well
take the measurements for that new shed we were talking about, and
see how much boarding it will require.' Then you can call to me out
from the office to come and help you to measure."

"Then you still think the apprentices are in it?" John Wilkes asked
sharply.

"I don't say I think so, John. I have nothing against them. I don't
believe they could come down at night without being heard; I feel
sure they could not get into the shop without that stiff bolt making
a noise. Still, as it is possible they may be concerned in the
matter, I think that, now we have it in good train for getting to the
bottom of it, it would be well to keep the matter altogether to
ourselves."

"Quite right," Captain Dave said approvingly. "When you suspect
treachery, don't let a soul think that you have got such a matter in
your mind, until you are in a position to take the traitor by the
collar and put a pistol to his ear. That idea of yours is a very good
one; I will say something about the shed to John this morning, and
then when you go down to the counting-house after dinner I will call
to you to come out to the yard with us."

After dinner, Captain Dave went with Cyril into the counting-house.

"We had an order in this morning for a set of ship's anchors, and
John and I have been in the yard looking them out; we looked over the
place pretty sharply, as you may be sure, but as far as we could see
the place is as solid as when it was built, fifty years ago, by my
father."

The Captain went out into the store, and ten minutes afterwards
re-entered the shop and shouted,--

"Come out here, Cyril, and lend a hand. We are going to take those
measurements. Bring out your ink-horn, and a bit of paper to put them
down as we take them."

The yard was some sixty feet long by twenty-five broad, exclusive of
the space occupied by the warehouse. This, as Cyril had observed from
the window above, did not extend as far as the back wall; but on
walking round there with the two men, he found that the distance was
greater than he had expected, and that there was a space of some
twenty feet clear.

"This is where we are thinking of putting the shed," the Captain said
in a loud voice.

"But I see that you have a crane and door into the loft over the
warehouse there," Cyril said, looking up.

"We never use that now. When my father first began business, he used
to buy up old junk and such-like stores, and store them up there, but
it didn't pay for the trouble; and, besides, as you see, he wanted
every foot of the yard room, and of course at that time they had to
leave a space clear for the carts to come up from the gate round
here, so it was given up, and the loft is empty now."

Cyril looked up at the crane. It was swung round so as to lie flat
against the wooden shutters. The rope was still through the block,
and passed into the loft through a hole cut at the junction of the
shutters.

They now measured the space between the warehouse and the wall, the
Captain repeating the figures, still in a loud voice; then they
discussed the height of the walls, and after some argument between
the Captain and John Wilkes agreed that this should be the same as
the rest of the building. Still talking on the subject, they returned
through the warehouse, Cyril on the way taking a look at the massive
gate that opened into the lane. In addition to a heavy bar it had a
strong hasp, fastened by a great padlock. The apprentices were busy
at work coiling up some rope when they passed by.

"When we have knocked a door through the end there, John," Captain
Dave said, "it will give you a deal more room, and you will be able
to get rid of all these cables and heavy dunnage, and to have matters
more ship-shape here."

While they had been taking the measurements, all three had carefully
examined the wall of the warehouse.

"There is nothing wrong there, Cyril," his employer said, as, leaving
John Wilkes in the warehouse, they went through the shop into the
little office.

"Certainly nothing that I could see, Captain Dave. I did not before
know the loft had any opening to the outside. Of course I have seen
the ladder going up from the warehouse to that trap-door; but as it
was closed I thought no more of it."

"I don't suppose anyone has been up there for years, lad. What, are
you thinking that someone might get in through those shutters? Why,
they are twenty feet from the ground, so that you would want a long
ladder, and when you got up there you would find that you could not
open the shutters. I said nobody had been up there, but I did go up
myself to have a look round when I first settled down here, and there
is a big bar with a padlock."

Cyril thought no more about it, and after supper it was arranged that
he and Captain Dave should keep watch by turns at the window of the
room that had been now given to John Wilkes, and that the latter
should have a night in his berth, as the Captain expressed it. John
Wilkes had made some opposition, saying that he would be quite
willing to take his watch.

"You will just obey orders, John," the Captain said. "You have had
thirty-six hours off the reel on duty, and you have got to be at work
all day to-morrow again. You shall take the middle watch to-morrow
night if you like, but one can see with half an eye that you are not
fit to be on the lookout to-night. I doubt if any of us could see as
far as the length of the bowsprit. It is pretty nearly pitch dark;
there is not a star to be seen, and it looked to me, when I turned
out before supper, as if we were going to have a storm."




CHAPTER IV

CAPTURED


It was settled that Cyril was to take the first watch, and that the
Captain should relieve him at one o'clock. At nine, the family went
to bed. A quarter of an hour later, Cyril stole noiselessly from his
attic down to John Wilkes's room. The door had been left ajar, and
the candle was still burning.

"I put a chair by the window," the sailor said, from his bed, "and
left the light, for you might run foul of something or other in the
dark, though I have left a pretty clear gangway for you."

Cyril blew out the candle, and seated himself at the window. For a
time he could see nothing, and told himself that the whole contents
of the warehouse might be carried off without his being any the
wiser.

"I shall certainly see nothing," he said to himself; "but, at least,
I may hear something."

So saying, he turned the fastening of the casement and opened it
about half an inch. As his eyes became accustomed to the darkness, he
was able to make out the line of the roof of the warehouse, which was
some three or four feet below the level of his eyes, and some twenty
feet away on his left. The time passed slowly. He kept himself awake
by thinking over the old days in France, the lessons he had learnt
with his friend, Harry Parton, and the teaching of the old clergyman.

He heard the bell of St. Paul's strike ten and eleven. The last
stroke had scarcely ceased to vibrate when he rose to his feet
suddenly. He heard, on his left, a scraping noise. A moment later it
ceased, and then was renewed again. It lasted but a few seconds; then
he heard an irregular, shuffling noise, that seemed to him upon the
roof of the warehouse. Pressing his face to the casement, he suddenly
became aware that the straight line of the ridge was broken by
something moving along it, and a moment later he made out a second
object, just behind the first. Moving with the greatest care, he made
his way out of the room, half closed the door behind him, crossed the
passage, and pushed at a door opposite.

"Captain Dave," he said, in a low voice, "get up at once, and please
don't make a noise."

"Ay, ay, lad."

There was a movement from the bed, and a moment later the Captain
stood beside him.

"What is it, lad?" he whispered.

"There are two figures moving along on the ridge of the roof of the
warehouse. I think it is the apprentices. I heard a slight noise, as
if they were letting themselves down from their window by a rope. It
is just over that roof, you know."

There was a rustling sound as the Captain slipped his doublet on.

"That is so. The young scoundrels! What can they be doing on the
roof?"

They went to the window behind. Just as they reached it there was a
vivid flash of lightning. It sufficed to show them a figure lying at
full length at the farther end of the roof; then all was dark again,
and a second or two later came a sharp, crashing roar of thunder.

"We had better stand well back from the window," Cyril whispered.
"Another flash might show us to anyone looking this way."

"What does it mean, lad? What on earth is that boy doing there? I
could not see which it was."

"I think it is Ashford," Cyril said. "The figure in front seemed the
smaller of the two."

"But where on earth can Tom have got to?"

"I should fancy, sir, that Robert has lowered him so that he can get
his feet on the crane and swing it outwards; then he might sit down
on it and swing himself by the rope into the loft if the doors are
not fastened inside. Robert, being taller, would have no difficulty
in lowering himself--There!" he broke off, as another flash of
lightning lit up the sky. "He has gone, now; there is no one on the
roof."

John Wilkes was by this time standing beside them, having started up
at the first flash of lightning.

"Do you go up, John, into their room," the Captain said. "I think
there can be no doubt that these fellows on the roof are Ashford and
Frost, but it is as well to be able to swear to it."

The foreman returned in a minute or two.

"The room is empty, Captain; the window is open, and there is a rope
hanging down from it. Shall I cast it adrift?"

"Certainly not, John. We do not mean to take them tonight, and they
must be allowed to go back to their beds without a suspicion that
they have been watched. I hope and trust that it is not so bad as it
looks, and that the boys have only broken out from devilry. You know,
boys will do things of that sort just because it is forbidden."

"There must be more than that," John Wilkes said. "If it had been
just after they went to their rooms, it might be that they went to
some tavern or other low resort, but the town is all asleep now."

They again went close to the window, pushed the casement a little
more open, and stood listening there. In two or three minutes there
was a very slight sound heard.

"They are unbolting the door into the yard," John Wilkes whispered.
"I would give a month's pay to be behind them with a rope's end."

Half a minute later there was a sudden gleam of light below, and they
could see the door open. The light disappeared again, but they heard
footsteps; then they saw the light thrown on the fastening to the
outer gate, and could make out that two figures below were applying a
key to the padlock. This was taken off and laid down; then the heavy
wooden bar was lifted, and also laid on the ground. The gate opened
as if pushed from the other side. The two figures went out; the sound
of a low murmur of conversation could be heard; then they returned,
the gate was closed and fastened again, they entered the warehouse,
the light disappeared, and the door was closed.

"That's how the things went, John."

"Ay, ay, sir," the foreman growled.

"As they were undoing the gate, the light fell on a coil of rope they
had set down there, and a bag which I guess had copper of some kind
in it. They have done us cleverly, the young villains! There was not
noise enough to wake a cat. They must have had every bolt and hinge
well oiled."

"We had better close the casement now, sir, for as they come back
along the ridge they will be facing it, and if a flash of lightning
came they would see that it was half open, and even if they did not
catch sight of our faces they would think it suspicious that the
window should be open, and it might put them on their guard."

"Yes; and we may as well turn in at once, John. Like enough when they
get back they will listen for a bit at their door, so as to make sure
that everything is quiet before they turn in. There is nothing more
to see now. Of course they will get in as they got out. You had
better turn in as you are, Cyril; they may listen at your door."

Cyril at once went up to his room, closed the door, placed a chair
against it, and then lay down on his bed. He listened intently, and
four or five minutes later thought that he heard a door open; but he
could not be sure, for just at that moment heavy drops began to
patter down upon the tiles. The noise rose louder and louder until he
could scarce have heard himself speak. Then there was a bright flash
and the deep rumble of the thunder mingled with the sharp rattle of
the raindrops overhead. He listened for a time to the storm, and then
dropped off to sleep.

Things went on as usual at breakfast the next morning. During the
meal, Captain Dave gave the foreman several instructions as to the
morning's work.

"I am going on board the _Royalist_," he said. "John Browning wants
me to overhaul all the gear, and see what will do for another voyage
or two, and what must be new. His skipper asked for new running
rigging all over, but he thinks that there can't be any occasion for
its all being renewed. I don't expect I shall be in till dinner-time,
so anyone that wants to see me must come again in the afternoon."

Ten minutes later, Cyril went out, on his way to his work. Captain
Dave was standing a few doors away.

"Before I go on board the brig, lad, I am going up to the Chief
Constable's to arrange about this business. I want to get four men of
the watch. Of course, it may be some nights before this is tried
again, so I shall have the men stowed away in the kitchen. Then we
must keep watch, and as soon as we see those young villains on the
roof, we will let the men out at the front door. Two will post
themselves this end of the lane, and two go round into Leadenhall
Street and station themselves at the other end. When the boys go out
after supper we will unlock the door at the bottom of the stairs into
the shop, and the door into the warehouse. Then we will steal down
into the shop and listen there until we hear them open the door into
the yard, and then go into the warehouse and be ready to make a rush
out as soon as they get the gate open. John will have his boatswain's
whistle ready, and will give the signal. That will bring the watch
up, so they will be caught in a trap."

"I should think that would be a very good plan, Captain Dave, though
I wish that it could have been done without Tom Frost being taken. He
is a timid sort of boy, and I have no doubt that he has been entirely
under the thumb of Robert."

"Well, if he has he will get off lightly," the Captain said. "Even if
a boy is a timid boy, he knows what will be the consequences if he is
caught robbing his master. Cowardice is no excuse for crime, lad. The
boys have always been well treated, and though I dare say Ashford is
the worst of the two, if the other had been honest he would not have
seen him robbing me without letting me know."

For six nights watch was kept without success. Every evening, when
the family and apprentices had retired to rest, John Wilkes went
quietly downstairs and admitted the four constables, letting them out
in the morning before anyone was astir. Mrs. Dowsett had been taken
into her husband's confidence so far as to know that he had
discovered he had been robbed, and was keeping a watch for the
thieves. She was not told that the apprentices were concerned in the
matter, for Captain Dave felt sure that, however much she might try
to conceal it, Robert Ashford would perceive, by her looks, that
something was wrong.

Nellie was told a day or two later, for, although ignorant of her
father's nightly watchings, she was conscious from his manner, and
that of her mother, that something was amiss, and was so persistent
in her inquiries, that the Captain consented to her mother telling
her that he had a suspicion he was being robbed, and warning her that
it was essential that the subject must not be in any way alluded to.

"Your father is worrying over it a good deal, Nellie, and it is
better that he should not perceive that you are aware of it. Just let
things go on as they were."

"Is the loss serious, mother?"

"Yes; he thinks that a good deal of money has gone. I don't think he
minds that so much as the fact that, so far, he doesn't know who the
people most concerned in it may be. He has some sort of suspicion in
one quarter, but has no clue whatever to the men most to blame."

"Does Cyril know anything about it?" Nellie asked suddenly.

"Yes, he knows, my dear; indeed, it was owing to his cleverness that
your father first came to have suspicions."

"Oh! that explains it," Nellie said. "He had been talking to father,
and I asked what it was about and he would not tell me, and I have
been very angry with him ever since."

"I have noticed that you have been behaving very foolishly," Mrs.
Dowsett said quietly, "and that for the last week you have been
taking Robert with you as an escort when you went out of an evening.
I suppose you did that to annoy Cyril, but I don't think that he
minded much."

"I don't think he did, mother," Nellie agreed, with a laugh which
betrayed a certain amount of irritation. "I saw that he smiled, two
or three evenings back, when I told Robert at supper that I wanted
him to go out with me, and I was rarely angry, I can tell you."

Cyril had indeed troubled himself in no way about Nellie's coolness;
but when she had so pointedly asked Robert to go with her, he had
been amused at the thought of how greatly she would be mortified,
when Robert was haled up to the Guildhall for robbing her father, at
the thought that he had been accompanying her as an escort.

"I rather hope this will be our last watch, Captain Dave," he said,
on the seventh evening.

"Why do you hope so specially to-night, lad?"

"Of course I have been hoping so every night. But I think it is
likely that the men who take the goods come regularly once a week;
for in that case there would be no occasion for them to meet at other
times to arrange on what night they should be in the lane."

"Yes, that is like enough, Cyril; and the hour will probably be the
same, too. John and I will share your watch to-night, so as to be
ready to get the men off without loss of time."

Cyril had always taken the first watch, which was from half-past nine
till twelve. The Captain and Wilkes had taken the other watches by
turns.

As before, just as the bell finished striking eleven, the three
watchers again heard through the slightly open casement the scraping
noise on the left. It had been agreed that they should not move, lest
the sound should be heard outside. Each grasped the stout cudgel he
held in his hand, and gazed at the roof of the warehouse, which could
now be plainly seen, for the moon was half full and the sky was
clear. As before, the two figures went along, and this time they
could clearly recognise them. They were both sitting astride of the
ridge tiles, and moved themselves along by means of their hands. They
waited until they saw one after the other disappear at the end of the
roof, and then John Wilkes quietly stole downstairs. The four
constables had been warned to be specially wakeful.

"They are at it again to-night," John said to them, as he entered.
"Now, do you two who go round into Leadenhall Street start at once,
but don't take your post at the end of the lane for another five or
six minutes. The thieves outside may not have come up at present. As
you go out, leave the door ajar; in five minutes you others should
stand ready. Don't go to the corner, but wait in the doorway below
until you hear the whistle. They will be only fifteen or twenty yards
up the lane, and would see you if you took up your station at the
corner; but the moment you hear the whistle, rush out and have at
them. We shall be there before you will."

John went down with the last two men, entered the shop, and stood
there waiting until he should be joined by his master. The latter and
Cyril remained at the window until they saw the door of the warehouse
open, and then hurried downstairs. Both were in their stockinged
feet, so that their movements should be noiseless.

"Come on, John; they are in the yard," the Captain whispered; and
they entered the warehouse and went noiselessly on, until they stood
at the door. The process of unbarring the gate was nearly
accomplished. As it swung open, John Wilkes put his whistle to his
lips and blew a loud, shrill call, and the three rushed forward.
There was a shout of alarm, a fierce imprecation, and three of the
four figures at the gate sprang at them. Scarce a blow had been
struck when the two constables ran up and joined in the fray. Two men
fought stoutly, but were soon overpowered. Robert Ashford, knife in
hand, had attacked John Wilkes with fury, and would have stabbed him,
as his attention was engaged upon one of the men outside, had not
Cyril brought his cudgel down sharply on his knuckles, when, with a
yell of pain, he dropped the knife and fled up the lane. He had gone
but a short distance, however, when he fell into the hands of the two
constables, who were running towards him. One of them promptly
knocked him down with his cudgel, and then proceeded to bind his
hands behind him, while the other ran on to join in the fray. It was
over before he got there, and his comrades were engaged in binding
the two robbers. Tom Frost had taken no part in the fight. He stood
looking on, paralysed with terror, and when the two men were
overpowered he fell on his knees beseeching his master to have mercy
on him.

"It is too late, Tom," the Captain said. "You have been robbing me
for months, and now you have been caught in the act you will have to
take your share in the punishment. You are a prisoner of the
constables here, and not of mine, and even if I were willing to let
you go, they would have their say in the matter. Still, if you make a
clean breast of what you know about it, I will do all I can to get
you off lightly; and seeing that you are but a boy, and have been,
perhaps, led into this, they will not be disposed to be hard on you.
Pick up that lantern and bring it here, John; let us see what
plunder, they were making off with."

There was no rope this time, but a bag containing some fifty pounds'
weight of brass and copper fittings. One of the constables took
possession of this.

"You had better come along with us to the Bridewell, Master Dowsett,
to sign the charge sheet, though I don't know whether it is
altogether needful, seeing that we have caught them in the act; and
you will all three have to be at the Court to-morrow at ten o'clock."

"I will go with you," the Captain said; "but I will first slip in and
put my shoes on; I brought them down in my hand and shall be ready in
a minute. You may as well lock up this gate again, John. I will go
out through the front door and join them in the lane." As he went
into the house, John Wilkes closed the gate and put up the bar, then
took up the lantern and said to Cyril,--

"Well, Master Cyril, this has been a good night's work, and mighty
thankful I am that we have caught the pirates. It was a good day for
us all when you came to the Captain, or they might have gone on
robbing him till the time came that there was nothing more to rob;
and I should never have held up my head again, for though the Captain
would never believe that I had had a hand in bringing him to ruin,
other people would not have thought so, and I might never have got a
chance of proving my innocence. Now we will just go to the end of the
yard and see if they did manage to get into the warehouse by means of
that crane, as you thought they did."

They found that the crane had been swung out just far enough to
afford a foot-hold to those lowering themselves on to it from the
roof. The door of the loft stood open.

"Just as you said. You could not have been righter, not if you had
seen them at it. And now I reckon we may as well lock up the place
again, and turn in. The Captain has got the key of the front door,
and we will leave the lantern burning at the bottom of the stairs."

Cyril got up as soon as he heard a movement in the house, and went
down to the shop, which had been already opened by John Wilkes.

"It seems quiet here, without the apprentices, John. Is there any way
in which I can help?"

"No, thank you, sir. We shan't be moving the goods about till after
breakfast, and then, no doubt, the Captain will get an extra man in
to help me. I reckon he will have to get a neighbour in to give an
eye to the place while we are all away at the Court."

"I see there is the rope still hanging from their window," Cyril
said, as he went out into the yard.

"I thought it best to leave it there," John Wilkes replied, "and I
ain't been up into the loft either. It is best to leave matters just
as they were. Like enough, they will send an officer down from the
Court to look at them."

When the family assembled at breakfast, Mrs. Dowsett was looking very
grave. The Captain, on the other hand, was in capital spirits.
Nellie, as usual, was somewhat late.

"Where is everybody?" she asked in surprise, seeing that Cyril alone
was in his place with her father and mother.

"John Wilkes is downstairs, looking after the shop, and will come up
and have his breakfast when we have done," her father replied.

"Are both the apprentices out, then?" she asked.

"The apprentices are in limbo," the Captain said grimly.

"In limbo, father! What does that mean?"

"It means that they are in gaol, my dear."

Nellie put down the knife and fork that she had just taken up.

"Are you joking, father?"

"Very far from it, my dear; it is no joke to any of us--certainly not
to me, and not to Robert Ashford, or Tom Frost. They have been
robbing me for the last year, and, for aught I know, before that. If
it had not been for Master Cyril it would not have been very long
before I should have had to put my shutters up."

"But how could they rob you, father?"

"By stealing my goods, and selling them, Nellie. The way they did it
was to lower themselves by a rope from their window on to the roof of
the warehouse, and to get down at the other end on to the crane, and
then into the loft. Then they went down and took what they had a
fancy to, undid the door, and went into the yard, and then handed
over their booty to the fellows waiting at the gate for it. Last
night we caught them at it, after having been on the watch for ten
days."

"That is what I heard last night, then," she said. "I was woke by a
loud whistle, and then I heard a sound of quarrelling and fighting in
the lane. I thought it was some roysterers going home late. Oh,
father, it is dreadful to think of! And what will they do to them?"

"It is a hanging matter," the Captain said; "it is not only theft,
but mutiny. No doubt the judges will take a lenient view of Tom
Frost's case, both on the ground of his youth, and because, no doubt,
he was influenced by Ashford; but I would not give much for Robert's
chances. No doubt it will be a blow to you, Nellie, for you seem to
have taken to him mightily of late."

Nellie was about to give an emphatic contradiction, but as she
remembered how pointedly she had asked for his escort during the last
few days, she flushed up, and was silent.

"It is terrible to think of," she said, after a pause. "I suppose
this is what you and Cyril were consulting about, father. I have to
ask your pardon, Master Cyril, for my rudeness to you; but of course
I did not think it was anything of consequence, or that you could not
have told me if you had wished to do so."

"You need not beg my pardon, Mistress Nellie. No doubt you thought it
churlish on my part to refuse to gratify your curiosity, and I am not
surprised that you took offence. I knew that when you learned how
important it was to keep silence over the matter, that you would
acquit me of the intention of making a mystery about nothing."

"I suppose you knew, mother?" Nellie asked.

"I knew that your father believed that he was being robbed, Nellie,
and that he was keeping watch for some hours every night, but I did
not know that he suspected the apprentices. I am glad that we did
not, for assuredly we should have found it very hard to school our
faces so that they should not guess that aught was wrong."

"That was why we said nothing about it, Nellie. It has been as much
as I have been able to do to sit at table, and talk in the shop as
usual, with boys I knew were robbing me; and I know honest John
Wilkes must have felt it still more. But till a week ago we would not
believe that they had a hand in the matter. It is seven nights since
Cyril caught them creeping along the roof, and called me to the
window in John Wilkes's room, whence he was watching the yard, not
thinking the enemy was in the house."

"And how did you come to suspect that robbery was going on, Cyril?"

"Simply because, on making up the books, I found there was a great
deficiency in the stores."

"That is what he was doing when he was sitting up at night, after you
were in bed, Miss Nellie," her father said. "You may thank your stars
that he took a berth in this ship, for the scoundrels would have
foundered her to a certainty, if he had not done so. I tell you,
child, he has saved this craft from going to the bottom. I have not
said much to him about it, but he knows that I don't feel it any the
less."

"And who were the other men who were taken, father?"

"That I can't tell you, Nellie. I went to the Bridewell with them,
and as soon as I saw them safely lodged there I came home. They will
be had up before the Lord Mayor this morning, and then I dare say I
shall know all about them. Now I must go and take my watch below, and
let John Wilkes come off duty."

"Why, John, what is the matter?" Mrs. Dowsett said, when the foreman
entered.

"Nothing worth speaking of, Mistress. I got a clip over the eye from
one of the pirates we were capturing. The thing mattered nothing, one
way or the other, but it might have cost me my life, because, for a
moment, it pretty well dazed me. That young villain, Bob, was just
coming at me with his knife, and I reckon it would have gone hard
with me if Master Cyril here hadn't, just in the nick of time,
brought his stick down on Robert's knuckles, and that so sharply that
the fellow dropped his knife with a yell, and took to his heels, only
to fall into the hands of two of the watch coming from the other end
of the lane. You did me a good turn, lad, and if ever I get the
chance of ranging up alongside of you in a fray, you may trust me to
return it."

He held out his hand to Cyril, and gave a warm grip to the hand the
latter laid in it.

"It is a rum start, Mistress," John went on, as he sat down to his
meal, "that two old hands like the Captain and I were sailing on, not
dreaming of hidden rocks or sand-banks, when this lad, who I used to
look upon as a young cockerel who was rather above his position,
should come forward and have saved us all from shipwreck."

"It is indeed, John," his mistress said earnestly, "and I thank God
indeed that He put the thought into the minds of Captain Dave and
myself to ask him to take up his abode with us. It seemed to us then
that we were doing a little kindness that would cost us nothing,
whereas it has turned out the saving of us."

"Dear, dear!" Nellie, who had been sitting with a frown on her pretty
face, said pettishly. "What a talk there will be about it all, and
how Jane Greenwood and Martha Stebbings and the rest of them will
laugh at me! They used to say they wondered how I could go about with
such an ugly wretch behind me, and of course I spoke up for him and
said that he was an honest knave and faithful; and now it turns out
that he is a villain and a robber. I shall never hear the last of
him."

"You will get over that, Nellie," her mother said severely. "It would
be much better if, instead of thinking of such trifles, you would
consider how sad a thing it is that two lads should lose their
character, and perhaps their lives, simply for their greed of other
people's goods. I could cry when I think of it. I know that Robert
Ashford has neither father nor mother to grieve about him, for my
husband's father took him out of sheer charity; but Tom's parents are
living, and it will be heart-breaking indeed to them when they hear
of their son's misdoings."

"I trust that Captain Dave will get him off," Cyril said. "As he is
so young he may turn King's evidence, and I feel sure that he did not
go willingly into the affair. I have noticed many times that he had a
frightened look, as if he had something on his mind. I believe that
he acted under fear of the other."

As soon as John Wilkes had finished his breakfast he went with
Captain Dave and Cyril to the Magistrates' Court at the Guildhall.
Some other cases were first heard, and then the apprentices, with the
two men who had been captured in the lane, were brought in and placed
in the dock. The men bore marks that showed they had been engaged in
a severe struggle, and that the watch had used their staves with
effect. One was an elderly man with shaggy grey eyebrows; the other
was a very powerfully built fellow, who seemed, from his attire, to
follow the profession of a sailor. Tom Frost was sobbing bitterly.
One of Robert Ashford's hands was bandaged up. As he was placed in
the dock he cast furtive glances round with his shifty eyes, and as
they fell upon Cyril an expression of deadly hate came over his face.
The men of the watch who had captured them first gave their evidence
as to finding them in the act of robbery, and testified to the
desperate resistance they had offered to capture. Captain Dave then
entered the witness-box, and swore first to the goods that were found
on them being his property, and then related how, it having come to
his knowledge that he was being robbed, he had set a watch, and had,
eight days previously, seen his two apprentices getting along the
roof, and how they had come out from the warehouse door, had opened
the outer gate, and had handed over some goods they had brought out
to persons unknown waiting to receive them.

"Why did you not stop them in their commission of the theft?" the
Alderman in the Chair asked.

"Because, sir, had I done so, the men I considered to be the chief
criminals, and who had doubtless tempted my apprentices to rob me,
would then have made off. Therefore, I thought it better to wait
until I could lay hands on them also, and so got four men of the
watch to remain in the house at night."

Then he went on to relate how, after watching seven nights, he had
again seen the apprentices make their way along the roof, and how
they and the receivers of their booty were taken by the watch, aided
by himself, his foreman, and Master Cyril Shenstone, who was dwelling
in his house.

After John Wilkes had given his evidence, Cyril went into the box and
related how, being engaged by Captain David Dowsett to make up his
books, he found, upon stock being taken, that there was a deficiency
to the amount of many hundreds of pounds in certain stores, notably
such as were valuable without being bulky.

"Is anything known as to the prisoners?" the magistrate asked the
officer of the city watch in charge of the case.

"Nothing is known of the two boys, your honour; but the men are well
known. The elder, who gave the name of Peter Johnson, is one Joseph
Marner; he keeps a marine shop close to the Tower. For a long time he
has been suspected of being a receiver of stolen goods, but we have
never been able to lay finger on him before. The other man has, for
the last year, acted as his assistant in the shop; he answers closely
to the description of a man, Ephraim Fowler, who has long been
wanted. This man was a seaman in a brig trading to Yarmouth. After an
altercation with the captain he stabbed him, and then slew the mate
who was coming to his assistance; then with threats he compelled the
other two men on board to let him take the boat. When they were off
Brightlingsea he rowed away, and has not been heard of since. If you
will remand them, before he comes up again I hope to find the men who
were on board, and see if they identify him. We are in possession of
Joseph Marner's shop, and have found large quantities of goods that
we have reason to believe are the proceeds of these and other
robberies."

After the prisoners had left the dock, Captain Dave went up to the
officer.

"I believe," he said, "that the boy has not voluntarily taken part in
these robberies, but has been led away, or perhaps obliged by threats
to take part in them; he may be able to give you some assistance, for
maybe these men are not the only persons to whom the stolen goods
have been sold, and he may be able to put you on the track of other
receivers."

"The matter is out of my hands now," the officer said, "but I will
represent what you say in the proper quarter; and now you had better
come round with me; you may be able to pick out some of your
property. We only made a seizure of the place an hour ago. I had all
the men who came in on duty this morning to take a look at the
prisoners. Fortunately two or three of them recognised Marner, and
you may guess we lost no time in getting a search warrant and going
down to his place. It is the most important capture we have made for
some time, and may lead to the discovery of other robberies that have
been puzzling us for months past. There is a gang known as the Black
Gang, but we have never been able to lay hands on any of their
leaders, and such fellows as have been captured have refused to say a
word, and have denied all knowledge of it. There have been a number
of robberies of a mysterious kind, none of which have we been able to
trace, and they have been put down to the same gang. The Chief
Constable is waiting for me there, and we shall make a thorough
search of the premises, and it is like enough we shall come across
some clue of importance. At any rate, if we can find some of the
articles stolen in the robberies I am speaking of, it will be a
strong proof that Marner is one of the chiefs of the gang, and that
may lead to further discoveries."

"You had better come with us, John," Captain Dave said. "You know our
goods better than I do myself. Will you come, Cyril?"

"I should be of no use in identifying the goods, sir, and I am due in
half an hour at one of my shops."

The search was an exhaustive one. There was no appearance of an
underground cellar, but on some of the boards of the shop being taken
up, it was found that there was a large one extending over the whole
house. This contained an immense variety of goods. In one corner was
a pile of copper bolts that Captain Dave and John were able to claim
at once, as they bore the brand of the maker from whom they obtained
their stock. There were boxes of copper and brass ship and house
fittings, and a very large quantity of rope, principally of the sizes
in which the stock had been found deficient; but to these Captain
Dave was unable to swear. In addition to these articles the cellar
contained a number of chests, all of which were found to be filled
with miscellaneous articles of wearing apparel--rolls of silk,
velvet, cloth, and other materials--curtains, watches, clocks,
ornaments of all kinds, and a considerable amount of plate. As among
these were many articles which answered to the descriptions given of
goods that had been stolen from country houses, the whole were
impounded by the Chief Constable, and carried away in carts. The
upper part of the house was carefully searched, the walls tapped,
wainscotting pulled down, and the floors carefully examined. Several
hiding-places were found, but nothing of any importance discovered in
them.

"I should advise you," the Chief Constable said to Captain Dave, "to
put in a claim for every article corresponding with those you have
lost. Of course, if anyone else comes forward and also puts in a
claim, the matter will have to be gone into, and if neither of you
can absolutely swear to the things, I suppose you will have to settle
it somehow between you. If no one else claims them, you will get them
all without question, for you can swear that, to the best of your
knowledge and belief, they are yours, and bring samples of your own
goods to show that they exactly correspond with them. I have no doubt
that a good deal of the readily saleable stuff, such as ropes, brass
sheaves for blocks, and things of that sort, will have been sold, but
as it is clear that there is a good deal of your stuff in the stock
found below, I hope your loss will not be very great. There is no
doubt it has been a splendid find for us. It is likely enough that we
shall discover among those boxes goods that have been obtained from a
score of robberies in London, and likely enough in the country. We
have arrested three men we found in the place, and two women, and may
get from some of them information that will enable us to lay hands on
some of the others concerned in these robberies."




CHAPTER V

KIDNAPPED


That afternoon Captain Dave went down to the Bridewell, and had an
interview with Tom Frost, in the presence of the Master of the
prison.

"Well, Tom, I never expected to have to come to see you in a place
like this."

"I am glad I am here, master," the boy said earnestly, with tears in
his eyes. "I don't mind if they hang me; I would rather anything than
go on as I have been doing. I knew it must come, and whenever I heard
anyone walk into the shop I made sure it was a constable. I am ready
to tell everything, master; I know I deserve whatever I shall get,
but that won't hurt me half as much as it has done, having to go on
living in the house with you, and knowing I was helping to rob you
all along."

"Anything that you say must be taken down," the officer said; "and I
can't promise that it will make any difference in your sentence."

"I do not care anything about that; I am going to tell the truth."

"Very well, then, I will take down anything you say. But wait a
minute."

He went to the door of the room and called.

"Is the Chief Constable in?" he asked a man who came up. "If he is,
ask him to step here."

A minute later the Chief Constable came in.

"This prisoner wishes to make a confession, Master Holmes. I thought
it best that you should be here. You can hear what he says then, and
it may help you in your inquiry. Besides, you may think of questions
on points he may not mention; he understands that he is speaking
entirely of his own free will, and that I have given him no promise
whatever that his so doing will alter his sentence, although no doubt
it will be taken into consideration."

"Quite so," the constable said. "This is not a case where one
prisoner would be ordinarily permitted to turn King's evidence
against the others, because, as they were caught in the act, no such
evidence is necessary. We know all about how the thing was done, and
who did it."

"I want to tell how I first came to rob my master," the boy said. "I
never thought of robbing him. When I came up to London, my father
said to me, 'Whatever you do, Tom, be honest. They say there are
rogues up in London; don't you have anything to do with them.' One
evening, about a year ago I went out with Robert, and we went to a
shop near the wall at Aldgate. I had never been there before, but
Robert knew the master, who was the old man that was taken in the
lane. Robert said the man was a relation of his father's, and had
been kind to him. We sat down and talked for a time, and then Robert,
who was sitting close to me, moved for something, and put his hand
against my pocket.

"'Hullo!' he said; 'what have you got there?'

"'Nothing,' I said.

"'Oh, haven't you?' and he put his hand in my pocket, and brought out
ten guineas. 'Hullo!' he said; 'where did you get these? You told me
yesterday you had not got a groat. Why, you young villain, you must
have been robbing the till!'

"I was so frightened that I could not say anything, except that I did
not know how they came there and I could swear that I had not touched
the till. I was too frightened to think then, but I have since
thought that the guineas were never in my pocket at all, but were in
Robert's hand.

"'That won't do, boy,' the man said. 'It is clear that you are a
thief. I saw Robert take them from your pocket, and, as an honest
man, it is my duty to take you to your master and tell him what sort
of an apprentice he has. You are young, and you will get off with a
whipping at the pillory, and that will teach you that honesty is the
best policy.'

"So he got his hat and put it on, and took me by the collar as if to
haul me out into the street. I went down on my knees to beg for
mercy, and at last he said that he would keep the matter quiet if I
would swear to do everything that Robert told me; and I was so
frightened that I swore to do so.

"For a bit there wasn't any stealing, but Robert used to take me out
over the roof, and we used to go out together and go to places where
there were two or three men, and they gave us wine. Then Robert
proposed that we should have a look through the warehouse. I did not
know what he meant, but as we went through he filled his pockets with
things and told me to take some too. I said I would not. Then he
threatened to raise the alarm, and said that when Captain Dave came
down he should say he heard me get up to come down by the rope on to
the warehouse, and that he had followed me to see what I was doing,
and had found me in the act of taking goods, and that, as he had
before caught me with money stolen from the till, as a friend of his
could testify, he felt that it was his duty to summon you at once. I
know I ought to have refused, and to have let him call you down, but
I was too frightened. At last I agreed to do what he told me, and
ever since then we have been robbing you."

"What have you done with the money you got for the things?" the
constable asked.

"I had a groat sometimes," the boy said, "but that is all. Robert
said first that I should have a share, but I said I would have
nothing to do with it. I did as he ordered me because I could not
help it. Though I have taken a groat or two sometimes, that is all I
have had."

"Do you know anything about how much Robert had?"

"No, sir; I never saw him paid any money. I supposed that he had some
because he has said sometimes he should set up a shop for himself,
down at some seaport town, when he was out of his apprenticeship; but
I have never seen him with any money beyond a little silver. I don't
know what he used to do when we had given the things to the men that
met us in the lane. I used always to come straight back to bed, but
generally he went out with them. I used to fasten the gate after him,
and he got back over the wall by a rope. Most times he didn't come in
till a little before daybreak."

"Were they always the same men that met you in the lane?"

"No, sir. The master of the shop was very seldom there. The big man
has come for the last three or four months, and there were two other
men. They used to be waiting for us together until the big man came,
but since then one or other of them came with him, except when the
master of the shop was there himself."

"Describe them to me."

The boy described them as well as he could.

"Could you swear to them if you saw them?"

"I think so. Of course, sometimes it was moonlight, and I could see
their faces well; and besides, the light of the lantern often fell
upon their faces."

The constable nodded.

"The descriptions answer exactly," he said to Captain Dave, "to the
two men we found in the shop. The place was evidently the
headquarters of a gang of thieves."

"Please, sir," the boy said, "would you have me shut up in another
place? I am afraid of being with the others. They have sworn they
will kill me if I say a word, and when I get back they will ask me
who I have seen and what I have said."

Captain Dave took the other two men aside.

"Could you not let the boy come home with me?" he said. "I believe
his story is a true one. He has been terrified into helping that
rascal, Robert Ashford. Of course he himself was of no good to them,
but they were obliged to force him into it, as otherwise he would
have found out Robert's absences and might have reported them to me.
I will give what bail you like, and will undertake to produce him
whenever he is required."

"I could not do that myself," the constable said, "but I will go
round to the Court now with the boy's confession, and I have no doubt
the Alderman will let him go. But let me give you a word of advice:
don't let him stir out of the house after dark. We have no doubt that
there is a big gang concerned in this robbery, and the others of
which we found the booty at the receiver's. They would not know how
much this boy could tell about them, but if he went back to you they
would guess that he had peached. If he went out after dark, the
chances would be against his ever coming back again. No, now I think
of it, I am sure you had better let him stay where he is. The Master
will put him apart from the others, and make him comfortable. You
see, at present we have no clue as to the men concerned in the
robberies. You may be sure that they are watching every move on our
part, and if they knew that this boy was out, they might take the
alarm and make off."

"Well, if you think so, I will leave him here."

"I am sure that it would be the best plan."

"You will make him comfortable, Master Holroyd?"

"Yes; you need not worry about him, Captain Dowsett."

They then turned to the boy.

"You will be moved away from the others, Tom," Captain Dave said,
"and Mr. Holroyd has promised to make you comfortable."

"Oh, Captain Dave," the boy burst out, "will you forgive me? I don't
mind being punished, but if you knew how awfully miserable I have
been all this time, knowing that I was robbing you while you were so
kind to me, I think you would forgive me."

"I forgive you, Tom," Captain Dave said, putting his hand on the
boy's shoulder. "I hope that this will be a lesson to you, all your
life. You see all this has come upon you because you were a coward.
If you had been a brave lad you would have said, 'Take me to my
master.' You might have been sure that I would have heard your story
as well as theirs, and I don't think I should have decided against
you under the circumstances. It was only your word against Robert's;
and his taking you to this man's, and finding the money in your
pocket in so unlikely a way, would certainly have caused me to have
suspicions. There is nothing so bad as cowardice; it is the father of
all faults. A coward is certain to be a liar, for he will not
hesitate to tell any falsehood to shelter him from the consequences
of a fault. In your case, you see, cowardice has made you a thief;
and in some cases it might drive a man to commit a murder. However,
lad, I forgive you freely. You have been weak, and your weakness has
made you a criminal; but it has been against your own will. When all
this is over, I will see what can be done for you. You may live to be
an honest man and a good citizen yet."

Two days later Cyril was returning home late in the evening after
being engaged longer than usual in making up a number of accounts for
one of his customers. He had come through Leadenhall Street, and had
entered the lane where the capture of the thieves had been made, when
he heard a footstep behind him. He turned half round to see who was
following him, when he received a tremendous blow on the head which
struck him senseless to the ground.

After a time he was dimly conscious that he was being carried along.
He was unable to move; there was something in his mouth that
prevented him from calling out, and his head was muffled in a cloak.
He felt too weak and confused to struggle. A minute later he heard a
voice, that sounded below him, say,--

"Have you got him?"

"I have got him all right," was the answer of the man who was
carrying him.

Then he felt that he was being carried down some stairs.

Someone took him, and he was thrown roughly down; then there was a
slight rattling noise, followed by a regular sound. He wondered
vaguely what it was, but as his senses came back it flashed upon him;
it was the sound of oars; he was in a boat. It was some time before
he could think why he should be in a boat. He had doubtless been
carried off by some of the friends of the prisoners', partly,
perhaps, to prevent his giving evidence against them, partly from
revenge for the part he had played in the discovery of the crime.

In a few minutes the sound of oars ceased, and there was a bump as
the boat struck against something hard. Then he was lifted up, and
someone took hold of him from above. He was carried a few steps and
roughly thrust in somewhere. There was a sound of something heavy
being thrown down above him, and then for a long time he knew nothing
more.

When he became conscious again, he was able, as he lay there, to come
to a distinct conclusion as to where he was. He had been kidnapped,
carried off, taken out in a boat to some craft anchored in the river,
and was now in the hold. He felt almost suffocated. The wrap round
his head prevented his breathing freely, the gag in his mouth pressed
on his tongue, and gave him severe pain, while his head ached acutely
from the effects of the blow.

The first thing to do was, if possible, to free his hands, so as to
relieve himself from the gag and muffling. An effort or two soon
showed him that he was but loosely bound. Doubtless the man who had
attacked him had not wasted much time in securing his arms, believing
that the blow would be sufficient to keep him quiet until he was safe
on board ship. It was, therefore, without much difficulty that he
managed to free one of his hands, and it was then an easy task to get
rid of the rope altogether. The cloak was pulled from his face, and,
feeling for his knife, he cut the lashings of the gag and removed it
from his mouth. He lay quiet for a few minutes, panting from his
exhaustion. Putting up his hand he felt a beam about a foot above his
body. He was, then, in a hold already stored with cargo. The next
thing was to shift his position among the barrels and bales upon
which he was lying, until he found a comparatively level spot. He was
in too great pain to think of sleep; his head throbbed fiercely, and
he suffered from intense thirst.

From time to time heavy footsteps passed overhead. Presently he heard
a sudden rattling of blocks, and the flapping of a sail. Then he
noticed that there was a slight change in the level of his position,
and knew that the craft was under way on her voyage down the river.

It seemed an immense time to him before he saw a faint gleam of
light, and edging himself along, found himself again under the
hatchway, through a crack in which the light was shining. It was some
hours before the hatch was lifted off, and he saw two men looking
down.

"Water!" he said. "I am dying of thirst."

"Bring a pannikin of water," one of the men said, "but first give us
a hand, and we will have him on deck."

Stooping down, they took Cyril by the shoulders and hoisted him out.

"He is a decent-looking young chap," the speaker went on. "I would
have seen to him before, if I had known him to be so bad. Those
fellows didn't tell us they had hurt him. Here is the water, young
fellow. Can you sit up to drink it?"

Cyril sat up and drank off the contents of the pannikin.

"Why, the back of your head is all covered with blood!" the man who
had before spoken said. "You must have had an ugly knock?"

"I don't care so much for that," Cyril replied. "It's the gag that
hurt me. My tongue is so much swollen I can hardly speak."

"Well, you can stay here on deck if you will give me your promise not
to hail any craft we may pass. If you won't do that I must put you
down under hatches again."

"I will promise that willingly," Cyril said; "the more so that I can
scarce speak above a whisper."

"Mind, if you as much as wave a hand, or do anything to bring an eye
on us, down you go into the hold again, and when you come up next
time it will be to go overboard. Now just put your head over the
rail, and I will pour a few buckets of water over it. I agreed to get
you out of the way, but I have got no grudge against you, and don't
want to do you harm."

Getting a bucket with a rope tied to the handle, he dipped it into
the river, and poured half-a-dozen pailfuls over Cyril's head. The
lad felt greatly refreshed, and, sitting down on the deck, was able
to look round. The craft was a coaster of about twenty tons burden.
There were three men on deck besides the man who had spoken to him,
and who was evidently the skipper. Besides these a boy occasionally
put up his head from a hatchway forward. There was a pile of barrels
and empty baskets amidship, and the men presently began to wash down
the decks and to tidy up the ropes and gear lying about. The shore on
both sides was flat, and Cyril was surprised at the width of the
river. Behind them was a small town, standing on higher ground.

"What place is that?" he asked a sailor who passed near him.

"That is Gravesend."

A few minutes afterwards the boy again put his head out of the
hatchway and shouted,--

"Breakfast!"

"Can you eat anything, youngster?" the skipper asked Cyril.

"No, thank you, my head aches too much; and my mouth is so sore I am
sure I could not get anything down."

"Well, you had best lie down, then, with your head on that coil of
rope; I allow you did not sleep much last night."

In a few minutes Cyril was sound asleep, and when he awoke the sun
was setting.

"You have had a good bout of it, lad," the skipper said, as he raised
himself on his elbow and looked round. "How are you feeling now?"

"A great deal better," Cyril said, as he rose to his feet.

"Supper will be ready in a few minutes, and if you can manage to get
a bit down it will do you good."

"I will try, anyhow," Cyril said. "I think that I feel hungry."

The land was now but a faint line on either hand. A gentle breeze was
blowing from the south-west, and the craft was running along over the
smooth water at the rate of three or four miles an hour. Cyril
wondered where he was being taken to, and what was going to be done
with him, but determined to ask no questions. The skipper was
evidently a kind-hearted man, although he might be engaged in lawless
business, but it was as well to wait until he chose to open the
subject.

As soon as the boy hailed, the captain led the way to the hatchway.
They descended a short ladder into the fo'castle, which was low, but
roomy. Supper consisted of boiled skate--a fish Cyril had never
tasted before--oaten bread, and beer. His mouth was still sore, but
he managed to make a hearty meal of fish, though he could not manage
the hard bread. One of the men was engaged at the helm, but the other
two shared the meal, all being seated on lockers that ran round the
cabin. The fish were placed on an earthenware dish, each man cutting
off slices with his jack-knife, and using his bread as a platter.
Little was said while the meal went on; but when they went on deck
again, the skipper, having put another man at the tiller, while the
man released went forward to get his supper, said,--

"Well, I think you are in luck, lad."

Cyril opened his eyes in surprise.

"You don't think so?" the man went on. "I don't mean that you are in
luck in being knocked about and carried off, but that you are not
floating down the river at present instead of walking the deck here.
I can only suppose that they thought your body might be picked up,
and that it would go all the harder with the prisoners, if it were
proved that you had been put out of the way. You don't look like an
informer either!"

"I am not an informer," Cyril said indignantly. "I found that my
employer was being robbed, and I aided him to catch the thieves. I
don't call that informing. That is when a man betrays others engaged
in the same work as himself."

"Well, well, it makes no difference to me," the skipper said. "I was
engaged by a man, with whom I do business sometimes, to take a fellow
who had been troublesome out of the way, and to see that he did not
come back again for some time. I bargained that there was to be no
foul play; I don't hold with things of that sort. As to carrying down
a bale of goods sometimes, or taking a few kegs of spirits from a
French lugger, I see no harm in it; but when it comes to cutting
throats, I wash my hands of it. I am sorry now I brought you off,
though maybe if I had refused they would have put a knife into you,
and chucked you into the river. However, now that I have got you I
must go through with it. I ain't a man to go back from my word, and
what I says I always sticks to. Still, I am sorry I had anything to
do with the business. You look to me a decent young gentleman, though
your looks and your clothes have not been improved by what you have
gone through. Well, at any rate, I promise you that no harm shall
come to you as long as you are in my hands."

"And how long is that likely to be, captain?"

"Ah! that is more than I can tell you. I don't want to do you harm,
lad, and more than that, I will prevent other people from doing you
harm as long as you are on board this craft. But more than that I
can't say. It is likely enough I shall have trouble in keeping that
promise, and I can't go a step farther. There is many a man who would
have chucked you overboard, and so have got rid of the trouble
altogether, and of the risk of its being afterwards proved that he
had a hand in getting you out of the way."

"I feel that, captain," Cyril said, "and I thank you heartily for
your kind treatment of me. I promise you that if at any time I am set
ashore and find my way back to London, I will say no word which can
get you into trouble."

"There is Tom coming upon deck. You had better turn in. You have had
a good sleep, but I have no doubt you can do with some more, and a
night's rest will set you up. You take the left-hand locker. The boy
sleeps on the right hand, and we have bunks overhead."

Cyril was soon soundly asleep, and did not wake when the others
turned in. He was alone in the cabin when he opened his eyes, but the
sun was shining brightly through the open hatchway. He sprang up and
went on deck. The craft was at anchor. No land could be seen to the
south, but to the north a low shore stretched away three or four
miles distant. There was scarcely a breath of wind.

"Well, you have had a good sleep, lad," the captain said. "You had
best dip that bucket overboard and have a wash; you will feel better
after it. Now, boy, slip down and get your fire going; we shall be
ready for breakfast as soon as it is ready for us."

Cyril soused his head with the cold water, and felt, as the captain
had said, all the better for it, for the air in the little cabin was
close and stuffy, and he had felt hot and feverish before his wash.

"The wind died out, you see," the captain said, "and we had to anchor
when tide turned at two o'clock. There is a dark line behind us, and
as soon as the wind reaches us, we will up anchor. The force of the
tide is spent."

The wind, however, continued very light, and the vessel did little
more than drift with the tide, and when it turned at two o'clock they
had to drop anchor again close under some high land, on the top of
which stood a lofty tower.

"That is a land-mark," the captain said. "There are some bad sands
outside us, and that stands as a mark for vessels coming through."

Cyril had enjoyed the quiet passage much. The wound at the back of
his head still smarted, and he had felt disinclined for any exertion.
More than once, in spite of the good allowance of sleep he had had,
he dozed off as he sat on the deck with his back against the bulwark,
watching the shore as they drifted slowly past it, and wondering
vaguely, how it would all end. They had been anchored but half an
hour when the captain ordered the men to the windlass.

"There is a breeze coming, lads," he said; "and even if it only lasts
for an hour, it will take us round the head and far enough into the
bay to get into the tide running up the rivers."

The breeze, however, when it came, held steadily, and in two hours
they were off Harwich; but on coming opposite the town they turned
off up the Orwell, and anchored, after dark, at a small village some
six miles up the river.

"If you will give me your word, lad, that you will not try to escape,
and will not communicate with anyone who may come off from the shore,
I will continue to treat you as a passenger; but if not, I must
fasten you up in the cabin, and keep a watch over you."

"I will promise, captain. I should not know where to go if I landed.
I heard you say, 'There is Harwich steeple,' when we first came in
sight of it, but where that is I have no idea, nor how far we are
from London. As I have not a penny in my pocket, I should find it
well-nigh impossible to make my way to town, which may, for aught I
know, be a hundred miles away; for, in truth, I know but little of
the geography of England, having been brought up in France, and not
having been out of sight of London since I came over."

Just as he was speaking, the splash of an oar was heard close by.

"Up, men," the captain said in a low tone to those in the fo'castle.
"Bring up the cutlasses. Who is that?" he called, hailing the boat.

"Merry men all," was the reply.

"All right. Come alongside. You saw our signal, then?"

"Ay, ay, we saw it; but there is an officer with a boat-load of
sailors ashore from the King's ship at Harwich. He is spending the
evening with the revenue captain here, and we had to wait until the
two men left in charge of the boat went up to join their comrades at
the tavern. What have you got for us?"

"Six boxes and a lot of dunnage, such as cables, chains, and some
small anchors."

"Well, you had better wait for an hour before you take the hatches
off. You will hear the gig with the sailors row past soon. The tide
has begun to run down strong, and I expect the officer won't be long
before he moves. As soon as he has gone we will come out again. We
shall take the goods up half a mile farther. The revenue man on that
beat has been paid to keep his eyes shut, and we shall get them all
stored in a hut, a mile away in the woods, before daybreak. You know
the landing-place; there will be water enough for us to row in there
for another two hours."

The boat rowed away to the shore, which was not more than a hundred
yards distant. A little later they heard a stir on the strand, then
came the sound of oars, and two minutes later a boat shot past close
to them, and then, bearing away, rowed down the river.

"Now, lads," the captain said, "get the hatches off. The wind is
coming more offshore, which is all the better for us, but do not make
more noise than you can help."

The hatches were taken off, and the men proceeded to get up a number
of barrels and bales, some sail-cloth being thrown on the deck to
deaden the sound. Lanterns, passed down into the hold, gave them
light for their operations.

"This is the lot," one of the sailors said presently.

Six large boxes were then passed up and put apart from the others.
Then followed eight or ten coils of rope, a quantity of chain, some
kedge anchors, a number of blocks, five rolls of canvas, and some
heavy bags that, by the sound they made when they were laid down,
Cyril judged to contain metal articles of some sort. Then the other
goods were lowered into the hold and the hatches replaced. The work
had scarcely concluded when the boat again came alongside, this time
with four men on board. Scarcely a word was spoken as the goods were
transferred to the boat.

"You will be going to-morrow?" one of the men in the boat asked.

"Yes, I shall get up to Ipswich on the top of the tide--that is, if I
don't stick fast in this crooked channel. My cargo is all either for
Ipswich or Aldborough. Now let us turn in," as the boatmen made their
way up the river. "We must be under way before daylight, or else we
shall not save the tide down to-morrow evening. I am glad we have got
that lot safely off. I always feel uncomfortable until we get rid of
that part of the cargo. If it wasn't that it paid better than all the
rest together I would not have anything to do with it."

Cyril was very glad to lie down on the locker, while the men turned
into their berths overhead. He had not yet fully recovered from the
effects of the blow he had received, but in spite of the aching of
his head he was soon sound asleep. It seemed to him that he had
scarcely closed his eyes when he was roused by the captain's voice,--

"Tumble up, lads. The light is beginning to show."

Ten minutes later they were under way. The breeze had almost died
out, and after sailing for some two miles in nearly a straight
course, the boat was thrown over, two men got into it, and, fastening
a rope to the ketch's bow, proceeded to tow her along, the captain
taking the helm.

To Cyril's surprise, they turned off almost at right angles to the
course they had before been following, and made straight for the
opposite shore. They approached it so closely that Cyril expected
that in another moment the craft would take ground, when, at a shout
from the captain, the men in the boat started off parallel with the
shore, taking the craft's head round. For the next three-quarters of
an hour they pursued a serpentine course, the boy standing in the
chains and heaving the lead continually. At last the captain
shouted,--"You can come on board now, lads. We are in the straight
channel at last." Twenty minutes later they again dropped their
anchor opposite a town of considerable size.

"That is Ipswich, lad," the captain said. "It is as nasty a place to
get into as there is in England, unless you have got the wind due
aft."

The work of unloading began at once, and was carried on until after
dark.

"That is the last of them," the captain said, to Cyril's
satisfaction. "We can be off now when the tide turns, and if we
hadn't got clear to-night we might have lost hours, for there is no
getting these people on shore to understand that the loss of a tide
means the loss of a day, and that it is no harder to get up and do
your work at one hour than it is at another. I shall have a clean up,
now, and go ashore. I have got your promise, lad, that you won't try
to escape?"

Cyril assented. Standing on the deck there, with the river bank but
twenty yards away, it seemed hard that he should not be able to
escape. But, as he told himself, he would not have been standing
there if it had not been for that promise, but would have been lying,
tightly bound, down in the hold.

Cyril and the men were asleep when the captain came aboard, the boy
alone remaining up to fetch him off in the boat when he hailed.

"There is no wind, captain," Cyril said, as the anchor was got up.

"No, lad, I am glad there is not. We can drop down with the tide and
the boat towing us, but if there was a head wind we might have to
stop here till it either dropped or shifted. I have been here three
weeks at a spell. I got some news ashore," he went on, as he took his
place at the helm, while the three men rowed the boat ahead. "A man I
sometimes bring things to told me that he heard there had been an
attempt to rescue the men concerned in that robbery. I heard, before
I left London, it was likely that it would be attempted."

There were a lot of people concerned in that affair, one way and
another, and I knew they would move heaven and earth to get them out,
for if any of them peached there would be such a haul as the
constables never made in the city before. Word was passed to the
prisoners to be ready, and as they were being taken from the
Guildhall to Newgate there was a sudden rush made. The constables
were not caught napping, and there was a tough fight, till the
citizens ran out of their shops and took part with them, and the men,
who were sailors, watermen, 'longshore-men, and rascals of all sorts,
bolted.

"But two of the prisoners were missing. One was, I heard, an
apprentice who was mixed up in the affair, and no one saw him go.
They say he must have stooped down and wriggled away into the crowd.
The other was a man they called Black Dick; he struck down two
constables, broke through the crowd, and got clean away. There is a
great hue and cry, but so far nothing has been heard of them. They
will be kept in hiding somewhere till there is a chance of getting
them through the gates or on board a craft lying in the river. Our
men made a mess of it, or they would have got them all off. I hear
that they are all in a fine taking that Marner is safely lodged in
Newgate with the others taken in his house; he knows so much that if
he chose to peach he could hang a score of men. Black Dick could tell
a good deal, but he wasn't in all the secrets, and they say Marner is
really the head of the band and had a finger in pretty nigh every
robbery through the country. All those taken in his place are also in
Newgate, and they say the constables are searching the city like
ferrets in a rabbit-warren, and that several other arrests have been
made."

"I am not sorry the apprentice got away," Cyril said. "He is a bad
fellow, there is no doubt, and, by the look he gave me, he would do
me harm if he got a chance, but I suppose that is only natural. As to
the other man, he looked to me to be a desperate villain, and he also
gave me so evil a look that, though he was in the dock with a
constable on either side of him, I felt horribly uncomfortable,
especially when I heard what sort of man he was."

"What did they say of him?"

"They said they believed he was a man named Ephraim Fowler, who had
murdered the skipper and mate of a coaster and then went off in the
boat."

"Is that the man? Then truly do I regret that he has escaped. I knew
both John Moore, the master, and George Monson, the mate, and many a
flagon of beer we have emptied together. If I had known the fellow's
whereabouts, I would have put the constables on his track. I am
heartily sorry now, boy, that I had a hand in carrying you off,
though maybe it is best for you that it has been so. If I hadn't
taken you someone else would, and more than likely you would not have
fared so well as you have done, for some of them would have saved
themselves all further trouble and risk, by chucking you overboard as
soon as they were well out of the Pool."

"Can't you put me ashore now, captain?"

"No, boy; I have given my word and taken my money, and I am not one
to fail to carry out a bargain because I find that I have made a bad
one. They have trusted me with thousands of pounds' worth of goods,
and I have no reason to complain of their pay, and am not going to
turn my back on them now they have got into trouble; besides, though
I would trust you not to round upon me, I would not trust them. If
you were to turn up in London they would know that I had sold them,
and Marner would soon hear of it. There is a way of getting messages
to a man even in prison. Then you may be sure that, if he said
nothing else, he would take good care to let out that I was the man
who used to carry their booty away, sometimes to quiet places on the
coast, and sometimes across to Holland, and the first time I dropped
anchor in the Pool I should find myself seized and thrown into limbo.
No, lad; I must carry out my agreement--which is that I am not to
land you in England, but that I am to take you across to Holland or
elsewhere--the elsewhere meaning that if you fall overboard by the
way there will be no complaints as to the breach of the agreement.
That is, in fact, what they really meant, though they did not
actually put it into words. They said, 'We have a boy who is an
informer, and has been the means of Marner being seized and his place
broken up, and there is no saying that a score of us may not get a
rope round our necks. In consequence, we want him carried away. What
you do with him is nothing to us so long as he don't set foot in
England again.' 'Will Holland suit you? I am going across there,' I
said, 'after touching at Ipswich and Aldborough.' 'It would be much
safer for you and everyone else if it happen that he falls over
before he gets there. However, we will call it Holland.'"

"Then if I were to fall overboard," Cyril said, with a smile, "you
would not be breaking your agreement, captain? I might fall overboard
to-night, you know."

"I would not advise it, lad. You had much better stay where you are.
I don't say I mightn't anchor off Harwich, and that if you fell
overboard you couldn't manage to swim ashore, but I tell you I would
not give twopence for your life when you got back to London. It is to
the interest of a score of men to keep Marner's mouth shut. They have
shown their willingness to help him as far as they could, by getting
you out of the way, and if you got back they would have your life the
first time you ventured out of doors after dark; they would be afraid
Marner would suppose they had sold him if you were to turn up at his
trial, and as like as not he would round on the whole lot. Besides, I
don't think it would be over safe for me the first time I showed
myself in London afterwards, for, though I never said that I would do
it, I have no doubt they reckoned that I should chuck you overboard,
and if you were to make your appearance in London they would
certainly put it down that I had sold them. You keep yourself quiet,
and I will land you in Holland, but not as they would expect, without
a penny or a friend; I will put you into good hands, and arrange that
you shall be sent back again as soon as the trial is over."

"Thank you very much, captain. I have no relations in London, and no
friends, except my employer, Captain David Dowsett, and by this time
he will have made up his mind that I am dead, and it won't make much
difference whether I return in four or five days or as many weeks."




CHAPTER VI

A NARROW ESCAPE


The _Eliza_, for this Cyril, after leaving Ipswich, learnt was her
name, unloaded the rest of her cargo at Aldborough, and then sailed
across to Rotterdam. The skipper fulfilled his promise by taking
Cyril to the house of one of the men with whom he did business, and
arranging with him to board the boy until word came that he could
safely return to England. The man was a diamond-cutter, and to him
packets of jewellery and gems that could not be disposed of in
England had often been brought over by the captain. The latter had
nothing to do with the pecuniary arrangements, which were made direct
by Marner, and he had only to hand over the packets and take back
sums of money to England.

"You understand," the captain said to Cyril, "that I have not said a
word touching the matter for which you are here. I have only told him
that it had been thought it was as well you should be out of England
for a time. Of course, he understood that you were wanted for an
affair in which you had taken part; but it matters not what he
thinks. I have paid him for a month's board for you, and here are
three pounds, which will be enough to pay for your passage back if I
myself should not return. If you do not hear from me, or see the
_Eliza_, within four weeks, there is no reason why you should not
take passage back. The trial will be over by that time, and as the
members of the gang have done their part in preventing you from
appearing, I see not why they should have further grudge against
you."

"I cannot thank you too much for your kindness, captain. I trust that
when I get back you will call at Captain Dowsett's store in Tower
Street, so that I may see you and again thank you; I know that the
Captain himself will welcome you heartily when I tell him how kindly
you have treated me. He will be almost as glad as I shall myself to
see you. I suppose you could not take him a message or letter from me
now?"

"I think not, lad. It would never do for him to be able to say at the
trial that he had learnt you had been kidnapped. They might write
over here to the Dutch authorities about you. There is one thing
further. From what I heard when I landed yesterday, it seems that
there is likely to be war between Holland and England."

"I heard a talk of it in London," Cyril said, "but I do not rightly
understand the cause, nor did I inquire much about the matter."

"It is something about the colonies, and our taxing their goods, but
I don't rightly understand the quarrel, except that the Dutch think,
now that Blake is gone and our ships for the most part laid up, they
may be able to take their revenge for the lickings we have given
them. Should there be war, as you say you speak French as well as
English, I should think you had best make your way to Dunkirk as a
young Frenchman, and from there you would find no difficulty in
crossing to England."

"I know Dunkirk well, captain, having indeed lived there all my life.
I should have no difficulty in travelling through Holland as a French
boy."

"If there is a war," the captain said, "I shall, of course, come here
no more; but it may be that you will see me at Dunkirk. French brandy
sells as well as Dutch Schiedam, and if I cannot get the one I may
perhaps get the other; and there is less danger in coming to Dunkirk
and making across to Harwich than there is in landing from Calais or
Nantes on the south coast, where the revenue men are much more on the
alert than they are at Harwich."

"Are you not afraid of getting your boat captured? You said it was
your own."

"Not much, lad. I bring over a regular cargo, and the kegs are stowed
away under the floor of the cabin, and I run them at Pin-mill--that
is the place we anchored the night before we got to Ipswich. I have
been overhauled a good many times, but the cargo always looks right,
and after searching it for a bit, they conclude it is all regular.
You see, I don't bring over a great quantity--fifteen or twenty kegs
is as much as I can stow away--and it is a long way safer being
content with a small profit than trying to make a big one."

Cyril parted with regret from the captain, whose departure had been
hastened by a report that war might be declared at any moment, in
which case the _Eliza_ might have been detained for a considerable
time. He had, therefore, been working almost night and day to get in
his cargo, and Cyril had remained on board until the last moment. He
had seen the diamond dealer but once, and hoped that he should not
meet him often, for he felt certain that awkward questions would be
asked him. This man was in the habit of having dealings with Marner,
and had doubtless understood from the captain that he was in some way
connected with his gang; and were he to find out the truth he would
view him with the reverse of a friendly eye. He had told him that he
was to take his meals with his clerk, and Cyril hoped, therefore,
that he should seldom see him.

He wandered about the wharf until it became dark. Then he went in and
took supper with the clerk. As the latter spoke Dutch only, there was
no possibility of conversation. Cyril was thinking of going up to his
bed when there was a ring at the bell. The clerk went to answer it,
leaving the door open as he went out, and Cyril heard a voice ask, in
English, if Herr Schweindorf was in. The clerk said something in
Dutch.

"The fool does not understand English, Robert," the man said.

"Tell him," he said, in a louder voice, to the clerk, "that two
persons from England--England, you understand--who have only just
arrived, want to see him on particular business. There, don't be
blocking up the door; just go and tell your master what I told you."

He pushed his way into the passage, and the clerk, seeing that there
was nothing else to do, went upstairs.

A minute later he came down again, and made a sign for them to follow
him. As they went up Cyril stole out and looked after them. The fact
that they had come from England, and that one of them was named
Robert, and that they had business with this man, who was in
connection with Marner, had excited his suspicions, but he felt a
shiver of fear run through him as he recognised the figures of Robert
Ashford and the man who was called Black Dick. He remembered the
expression of hatred with which they had regarded him in the Court,
and felt that his danger would be great indeed did they hear that he
was in Rotterdam. A moment's thought convinced him that they would
almost certainly learn this at once from his host. The letter would
naturally mention that the captain had left a lad in his charge who
was, as he believed, connected with them. They would denounce him as
an enemy instead of a friend. The diamond merchant would expel him
from his house, terrified at the thought that he possessed
information as to his dealings with this band in England; and once
beyond the door he would, in this strange town, be at the mercy of
his enemies. Cyril's first impulse was to run back into the room,
seize his cap, and fly. He waited, however, until the clerk came down
again; then he put his cap carelessly on his head.

"I am going for a walk," he said, waving his hand vaguely.

The man nodded, went with him to the door, and Cyril heard him put up
the bar after he had gone out. He walked quietly away, for there was
no fear of immediate pursuit.

Black Dick had probably brought over some more jewels to dispose of,
and that business would be transacted, before there would be any talk
of other matters. It might be a quarter of an hour before they heard
that he was an inmate of the house; then, when they went downstairs
with the dealer, they would hear that he had gone out for a walk and
would await his return, so that he had two or three hours at least
before there would be any search.

It was early yet. Some of the boats might be discharging by
torchlight. At any rate, he might hear of a ship starting in the
morning. He went down to the wharf. There was plenty of bustle here;
boats were landing fish, and larger craft were discharging or taking
in cargo; but his inability to speak Dutch prevented his asking
questions. He crossed to the other side of the road. The houses here
were principally stores or drinking taverns. In the window of one was
stuck up, "English and French Spoken Here." He went inside, walked up
to the bar, and called for a glass of beer in English.

"You speak English, landlord?" he asked, as the mug was placed before
him.

The latter nodded.

"I want to take passage either to England or to France," he said. "I
came out here but a few days ago, and I hear that there is going to
be trouble between the two countries. It will therefore be of no use
my going on to Amsterdam. I wish to get back again, for I am told
that if I delay I may be too late. I cannot speak Dutch, and
therefore cannot inquire if any boat will be sailing in the morning
for England or Dunkirk. I have acquaintances in Dunkirk, and speak
French, so it makes no difference to me whether I go there or to
England."

"My boy speaks French," the landlord said, "and if you like he can go
along the port with you. Of course, you will give him something for
his trouble?"

"Willingly," Cyril said, "and be much obliged to you into the
bargain."

The landlord left the bar and returned in a minute with a boy twelve
years old.

"He does not speak French very well," he said, "but I dare say it
will be enough for your purpose. I have told him that you want to
take ship to England, or that, if you cannot find one, to Dunkirk. If
that will not do, Ostend might suit you. They speak French there, and
there are boats always going between there and England."

"That would do; though I should prefer the other."

"There would be no difficulty at any other time in getting a boat for
England, but I don't know whether you will do so now. They have been
clearing off for some days, and I doubt if you will find an English
ship in port now, though of course there may be those who have been
delayed for their cargo."

Cyril went out with the boy, and after making many

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