CHAPTER XVIII

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*A Timely Warning*

As I rode along amid the old familiar scenes that bright June morning, with the gladsome singing of the birds for company, my thoughts were strange indeed. It seemed as though I had set foot upon the threshold of another life, and that the past--so near and yet so far--had been for ever buried in the grave which held my father. Those days--those happy days--were now as nothing but a darkened memory.

Less than a week before I had been riding on this selfsame road, as blithe and free from care as yonder soaring lark, and now----!

Pulling up, I turned a wistful gaze upon the sunlit sea. The ancient, wave-worn Cobb--strong and immovable in spite of kings and factions--stretched forth its long, curved, weather-beaten arm into the glittering water, as though it would fain gather in to safety those who dared the perils of the deep. Beyond it, straining at their anchors, lay the three ill-fated ships which henceforth would be part of one appalling tale of blood and failure.

A bright blue ensign fluttered gaily from the frigate, whose deck young Fletcher of Saltoun--a few hours back the hope of Monmouth's side--now trod a sorry prisoner, doomed to exile; his talents, hopes, and zeal all scattered to the wind by one mad act of rage.

This brought into my mind Old Dare of Taunton, lying dead there in the town--slain, to no purpose, in a brawl which boys might well have jeered at. Then, as other thoughts of death more ugly and disquieting arose, I moved on slowly--a prey to gloomy memories.

But, after all, I communed with myself, what mattered it? The past was gone; the future, rich in unknown adventures--wherein I had a certain mission--lay like a winding lane before me; while for the rest of it--that is, the present--I was well armed, had a good horse beneath me, lacked not money, and was sound in mind and body. What more was needed? Nothing! Let danger dog my heels at every step--I cared not anything, so long as in the end I might meet Ferguson and Ammon face to face and sword to sword.

Stooping, I patted Kitty's neck, and she, who knew my every mood and touch, broke out into a joyous canter, and away we flew along the springing turf which fringed the road. 'Twas all so like old times to be thus rushing through the cool, refreshing air, that for the moment everything seemed banished from my mind.

We had gone thus a mile or so, and I was vaguely thinking that, in spite of all, 'twas fine to be alive, when suddenly the sound of other horse-feet at a gallop reached me from behind. Someone was following us in furious haste, and by his speed he rode upon no common errand.

Remembering what peril I had already gone through, and how little loved I was by certain folk in Lyme, I pulled my mare in, and drawing up behind a thorn bush, sat there listening, the while I peeped forth cautiously in the direction of the thundering hoofs.

Soon round a distant bending of the road a steel-clad horseman shot to view, a very Jehu of a fellow, riding furiously.

Who could it be that thus betimes wore out good horse-flesh, and what might be the nature of his breakneck business? A Monmouth man, perhaps! I knew not--but, as things stood, it seemed to me to be prepared for anything was everything. Therefore I drew a pistol from my saddle, and, having cocked it, sat there ready to be friend or foe.

On, with loose reins and head bent low, the horseman rushed towards us, and judging by his speed would certainly have passed me by unnoticed; but just as he came close, Kitty must needs prick up her ears and give a loud, shrill neigh. At that the rider pulled his lathered steed up with a suddenness that wellnigh shot him from the saddle, and there, red-faced, open-mouthed and panting, sat John Coram, staring at me like a man bedaft.

"Th--h--ank H--ea--ven!" he gasped.

"Yes, truly, for you might have broke your neck by pulling up thus sharply," I replied, and could not keep from smiling.

"Nay--friend--'tis naught--to--jest upon," quoth he severely. "Faith!--but--I--I fairly boil within."

"Then pause and rest awhile," said I.

"I must," quoth he.

Unbuckling his head-piece he hung it on his arm, and verily his breath roared from him like a blacksmith's forge. Thus bared, and with the sunlight shining on his great bald pate, he looked so fat and peaceful--so unwarlike--that I was sorely put to it to save myself from laughing.

"Friend," said he at last, "I count the whinnying of that mare of thine a mercy; but for it I might well have passed thee by."

"True," I agreed; "but, say, what brings you after me in such a headlong fashion?"

John Coram fastened on his head-piece with all the care of some old dame a-tying on her cap, looked up and down the lane, then drawing closer, said:

"Because thou art in peril, friend."

"Ah! and from whom?" I asked, stroking my mare's neck carelessly, for indeed I had got used to peril.

Again John Coram glanced about him, this time taking in the trees as well, as though they might hold danger; then he drew still closer, and, in a low voice, answered:

"Israel Stark!"

At that I started somewhat, for, as you are aware, he named no ordinary open foe, but rather one who lurked in secret places privily to murder. Therefore I paused a moment, looking hard into the steel-framed face before me ere I murmured:

"Ah! so Tubal Ammon is abroad, eh?"

"Yea, and that somewhere on this very road," replied John Coram in a fearful whisper.

'Twas now my turn to glance around and scan the trees, especially a thick-leaved oak just opposite.

"How know you this?" I asked at last.

"Why, in this fashion," answered Coram. "As I stood on guard last night a mile or so from here, I heard sly, slinking footsteps coming from the shadow of a wood. 'Who goes there?' I cried, and someone gave the password of the night."

"Zion!" I put in with a smile, remembering how well the word had served me also. John Coram started.

"Yea, verily," said he; "but--but how came you by it?"

"Why, man," I laughed, "you gave it me last evening at the 'George'!"

"Now, by my life," he muttered, "I have a dim remembrance that 'twas so, though verily my pate was somewhat addled with--Hum! where was I? Ah! as I was saying, that fellow gave the word and so I let him pass. Off he went, a long-cloaked thing of black, into the darkness. But when he was some half-score yards beyond me he turned his face, the moonlight caught it, and I knew it instantly for Israel Stark's."

"Ah! and what did you then?" I put in eagerly.

"Did!" echoed Coram, spreading out his hands. "Friend, I did naught, and shame on me for it. So struck was I that I could neither draw a pistol nor pursue. I stood as stiff as any post, and watched the varlet fly. And fly he did; for, look you, he had known me also by that glance, and so sped off into the darkness like some spirit. The Evil One himself could not have vanished swifter. Heavens, friend! it makes me go quite chilly just to think on't!"

"'Twas a fine chance lost," I murmured ruefully; then, as another view of it came into mind, I added: "and yet it gives me cause for gratitude, for had you killed him you had robbed me of a pleasure."

But Coram shook his head.

"Ah, but all danger had been ended then," said he.

"How long was this ago?" I asked.

"About two hours; 'twas just before the dawn."

I paused a moment. Had Ammon once again been spying on me, and thus got wind of my intentions?

"Art certain that he came this way?" I asked.

"Aye, verily, I am. Would that I were not, for who knows where so sly a villain may be hiding, ready to work mischief on thee?"

Here we both glanced uneasily around. Truly this had a far from pleasing look. The lane was narrow, and bordered thick with trees and bushes--Thrusting such ugly thoughts aside, I asked another question:

"But how came you to know my whereabouts?"

"Why, in this wise: no sooner was I free than I went unto your house, The Havering, in order to report this matter. There I found that you had ridden forth for Exeter. So borrowed I a horse and rode amain."

"Thou art a right good friend, John Coram, and have well earned what I promised thee."

Bringing forth my pouch, I would have given him the money, but----

"No," said he, "I came not out to seek reward," and verily his honest face upheld the statement. "I came to warn thee, save thee from a peril, and having done so I am mightily content; while if you slay this fellow my reward is great indeed."

"Be sure my best endeavour shall go to that end," said I: "but still, a bargain is a bargain. Therefore, I pray you, take this money."

At first he would not; but after much pressing I contrived to give him two gold pieces, for the which his thanks were fervid.

"And now I must be riding back again ere I be missed," said he. "Besides, there is this horse which I have borrowed----"

"Or stolen, which?" I asked maliciously.

"Nay, friend, you said that sorry business was now clean forgiven and forgotten."

"And so it is," I answered laughing. "But, say, before you go, hast any news for me from Lyme?"

"Aye, plenty. Old Dare was slain last night by Fletcher of Saltoun. A pretty brawl, 'tis said, about a horse. And Fletcher hath been sent a prisoner to the ship. Thus lose we two good men at once. A grievous loss, indeed."

"Yes, true. I heard of it," said I. "And hath aught else been forward?"

"Yes. Three of our men have been slain on the shore nigh Charmouth."

Again this was no news to me; yet I contrived to say, surprisedly:

"Ah, so! By whom?"

"I know not," answered Coram; "there is some mystery about the matter, but they were slain by sword, and that by one who knew his business well, according to report."

"Well, well," I murmured, "such is war. But, say, how went it with the fight at Bridport?"

"Ill enough for us. Our men were beaten back by the militia. They fled like frightened sheep, and 'tis whispered that my Lord Grey was the worst of all; 'tis said he ne'er drew rein till safe in Lyme again.

"Now, by my life, that was a bad beginning, sure enough!"

"Aye, verily, yet scarce a thing to marvel at, for, look you, how can untrained ploughboys and the like expect to stand an onslaught e'en though it be but that of rough militiamen?"

"Ah, how indeed?" I murmured. "And know you when the Duke rides forth from Lyme?"

"Nay, that I don't, nor, as it seems to me, doth anyone for certain. Some say to-morrow, others Monday. Yet still they dally, signing on fresh men."

"Ah, they still come in to join, then?"

"Aye, that they do--by hundreds; but, oh, such lumbering louts! Save me, if we should not do as well with cows and sheep. And now, to make it worse, we've lost Old Dare and Fletcher. Faith, but I like it less each day, and were it not for Ferguson, Duke Monmouth's cause might whistle for John Coram."

"Ah, so Ferguson doth count for much," I murmured, stroking Kitty's neck to hide my face.

"Yea, much indeed," quoth Coram warmly. "He is a leader born--a man of parts withal; but surely, friend, you know 'tis so as well as I," he added with a searching look, "for have you not had pressing business with our godly chaplain?"

"Yes, by my life I have, and have it still," I answered. "I ride upon it now."

"Another reason why I should not tarry, then," said Coram. "And so farewell, friend. Have a care of Stark, and make sure to kill him if you get the chance."

"Be sure of that," said I.

"My blessing on it," answered Coram fervently, and with that cantered off. At the bending of the lane he turned and waved a hand. I answered with a will, then also sped upon my way, though with a watchful eye for every tree and bush.

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