"Well, then," said the General, "we must be prepared. I look upon it all as an empty, insolent piece of bombast; but whatever it is, we must not be taken unawares. Help shall be at once asked from England, and meantime we must do all we can to place ourselves in a state of defence."

"Well, George," said my father, as we walked back home, seeing the sails of the Spaniard set, and that she was gliding slowly down the river, "what have you to say to all this?"

"I should like to know whether the Spaniards will come back."

"Ah, that remains to be proved, my boy. We shall see."

"Not they," said Morgan, when I told him, and he was listening eagerly to my account of what had taken place. "If we were Indians perhaps they would; but we're Englishmen and Welshmen, look you. No, my lad, we're more likely to see those Indians. Depend upon it, all that Spaniel said was a bit of bounce."

CHAPTER TEN.

Those were busy times at the settlement, where the crops and everything else were neglected so that all hands might work at the block-house, or fort, it was determined to build, so as to have a place to flee to in case of attack, and the fight going against us.

Wood was plentiful enough, and the _chip-chop_ of the axes was heard all day long, willing hands toiling hard, so that at the end of a week a strong wooden breastwork was contrived; and this, as the time went by, was gradually improved, sheds and huts being run up within for shelter from the dews and rain, and for store-places in case we were besieged.

But the weeks went by, and the Spaniards made no sign, and as far as we could tell were not likely to. Still the General did not relax his efforts; outposts and guards did duty; a well was dug inside the fort, and stores were gathered in, but no enemies came, and their visit began to seem like a bit of history.

My father and Morgan had walked over with me to the fort every morning, and there gentlemen toiled beside the ordinary labourers and the slaves; but no fresh alarm came, and at last we were back at the house regularly, and time was devoted to making up for the past neglect, Morgan bemoaning the state of the garden most piteously.

I suppose I must have been about fifteen years old then, but cannot be sure. All I know is that the whole business stands out vividly in my mind, as if it had taken place yesterday. In fact I can sit down, close my eyes, and recall nearly the whole of my boyish life on the river, with the scenes coloured by memory till they seem to grow. At such times it seems to me that I can actually breathe in the sweet lemony odour of the great laurel-leaved flowers borne on what, there, were often great trees dotted with blossoms which looked like gigantic creamy-white tulips, one of which great magnolias flourished at the end of our house.

On the day of which I am speaking, Morgan Johns, our serving-man and general hand, for there was nothing he was not ready to do, came and told my father that there was a schooner in the river, adding something which my father shook his head over and groaned. This, of course, made me open my ears and take an interest in the matter at once.

"Well, sir, look you," said Morgan, "I'll do as much as I can, but you keep on fencing in more and more land, and planting more and more trees."

"Yes, I do, Morgan," said my father, apologetically; "but see how different it is to cold, mountainous North Wales."

"North Wales is a very coot country, sir," said Morgan, severely. "No man should look down on the place of his birth."

"n.o.body does, Morgan. I often long to see Snowdon, and the great ridge of blue mountains growing less and less till they sink into the sea."

"Ah," said Morgan, enthusiastically, and speaking more broadly, "it's a fery coot country is Wales. Where are your mountains here?"

"Ah, where are they, Morgan? The place is flat enough, but see how rich and fat the soil is."

"Yes, it's fery good," said Morgan, growing more English.

"And see how things grow."

"Yes; that's the worst of them, sir; they grow while you're looking at them; and how can one man fight against the weeds, which grow so fast they lift your coat off the ground?"

"In time, Morgan, in time," said my father. "Yes, sir, in time. Ah, well, I'll work till I die, and I can't do any more."

"No, Morgan," said my father, quietly, "you cannot do any more."

"The other gentlemen who came out don't mind doing it, and their little estates are in better order than ours."

"No, Morgan," said my father, decisively, "I will not have that. n.o.body had such fruit as we did last year."

"Well, master," said our old servant, with his hard, dry face brightening up into a smile, "I think we can beat them all round; but if you are going on enclosing fresh clearings from the forest, I must have more help." My father shook his head and Morgan went on, "The other gentlemen are going aboard, one after another; why don't you go too, sir?"

"If I went, it would be to try to put a stop to it, Morgan, and cry shame on my neighbours for what they are doing."

"Ah, well, master, I've done," said Morgan. "I'll work till I drop, and I can do no more."

My father turned to the old-fashioned desk he had brought from home, and went on writing a letter, while, after giving him a look full of vexation, our man gave his straw hat a flop against his side, and went out.

I was not long in following and overtaking him by the rough fence which enclosed our garden.

"Morgan! Morgan!" I cried.

"Well, Master George, boy, what is it?"

"What did you want father to do?"

"Go and ask him."

"No, I shan't; I shall ask you. Did you want him to buy something to help in the garden?"

Morgan looked at me quietly and nodded.

"What was it?--a new spade?"

"Nay, boy; but people to use spades and hoes--'specially the last."

"But you can't buy people."

"Can't you, boy?"

"Only slaves. Oh, I say, Morgan! I know; you wanted father to buy some slaves."

"Ay, boy, that's it. Every one else here's doing it, so why shouldn't we?"

"I don't know," I said, thoughtfully. "I know this," I cried; "that schooner that came into the river has got slaves on board."

"That's right, Master George, boy. Cargo of blacks from the Guinea coast, and our neighbours are buying 'em so fast that there won't be one left if we want any."

"We don't want any," I said, indignantly.

"No, Master George, boy, so your father said; and I'm going to ask him to graft me."

"To graft you?"

"Ay, my lad, with a row of extra arms all down each side, like that picture of the Injin idol in your book."

"What nonsense, Morgan!"