"I see by his eyes he meant it all, so--

"'Here, sir,' says I, 'somethin for yourself!' and chucks the note in his mug."

The Parson was breathing deep.

"And what then?"

"Why, sir, I'd nothin on me ony the dooks me G.o.d give me. So I up and I skip it."

The Parson leaned out, and smote at the man's shaven skull with the b.u.t.t-end of his pistol.

"Ain't I done right, sir?" squeaked the little man, dodging back.

"You've sold us!" cursed the Parson, and he was white even in the moon.

"Hush, sir! hush!" cried Kit. "For goodness' sake, hush! They'll hear you."

"Hullo! hullo! what's all this?" came a voice from across the sward.

"Excuse me, sir!" whispered Knapp, unabashed. "I'd best be steppin it.

Here are your papers, sir." He flung a packet through the window and flashed away.

The Gentleman sat on the wall in the moonlight.

"So your chap's back," he called in his friendly voice.

"Yes, sir," replied the Parson harshly, "and the soldiers on his heels two thousand strong, with a couple of Horse Batteries, and a company of Sappers to rig up a gallows for conceited young c.o.xcombs who pose on walls in the moonlight."

"Very glad to see any friends of yours any time," replied the Gentleman. "But unless they come soon I'm afraid we shall miss. I'm off at dawn. But I'll see you again before going. Good-night."

He sauntered away.

The Parson turned, grinding his teeth.

Then he saw the boy's face, and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Turn in, boy, and try to get a snooze. What tomorrow brings Heaven knows, but we do know we shall want all our strength to meet it."

CHAPTER LXII

THE PARSON MUSES

The Parson opened his packet.

It contained a batch of newspapers dropped for him daily at Lewes by the coach, and not called for since last Sat.u.r.day.

Ah, here we are!

_The Times, Monday, August l9_--that was the day before yesterday.

_Lord Nelson is arrived at Portsmouth._

Then the Gentleman was right!

He was here, the man his country had believed barring the pa.s.sage of the Combined Squadron Vigo way.

Why had the watch-dog left his post?

_We may infer from the circ.u.mstance of his Lordship's coming home, that information had reached him of the Combined Squadron having got into Ferrol._

He dared say they had. Where was the man should have stopped them?

_The Times, August 20._

_Lord Nelson arrived at his seat at Merton in Surrey yesterday...._

O, the Gentleman! the Gentleman! It was all true then!...

_and will most probably attend at the Admiralty this day_.

Probably attend!

And this was Nelson! his Nelson!

_Victory, Spithead, August 18, 1805.

The Victory, with the fleet under my command, left Gibraltar twenty- seven days ago....

Nelson and Bronte_.

That's right. Do the thing thoroughly if you're going to do it at all.

Come home yourself, and bring your fleet with you. It might get in the way of the Combined Squadron if it stopped off Cadiz. Pity to be rude, you know!

_As soon as Lord Nelson's flag was descried at Spithead, the ramparts, and every place which could command a view of the entrance of the harbour, were crowded with spectators. As he approached the sh.o.r.e, he was saluted with loud and reiterated huzzas, as enthusiastic and sincere as if he had returned crowned with a third great naval victory_.

That third great victory, where was it now?

Poor little chap! poor little Nelson!

And what was this? The _Moniteur_, _Paris_, _August 12_. Boo-woo-woo.... Bob Calder's battle. [Footnote: Sir Robert Calder had fought an indecisive action with Villeneuve in July.] Bob Calder ought to be shot. Had em and then wouldn't hammer em. Call emselves sailors!

_Vice-Admiral Calder stood off with thirteen ships, and left the Combined Squadron masters of the sea_.

Masters of the Sea!