Night had but recently fled, and the sun had not yet risen to gladden the hills and gild them with his beams. Mists lay in the marshy levels on the right, and a thin curtain of vapour shrouded Beddingham, concealing all of the village except the square tower of its church. Mists also hung over Glynde Place and the woods adjoining it. But the summits of the downs, though grey-looking and somewhat sombre, were wholly free from fog; and a ruddy glow in the east announced the speedy advent of the sun. The gaze of the Cavaliers was turned towards the elevated ridge on the further side of the valley, but though both strained their eyes in this direction for some minutes, they could not descry the object they sought. Neither spoke, but each continued to look eagerly towards the Firle heights. Each moment the sky had been growing brighter and redder, as if the east were all a-flame, when suddenly the god of day himself appeared, and, ere long, the hills glowed with his splendour. It was at this juncture that the object which our two Cavaliers had sought for so eagerly became visible. It was a shepherd like themselves, a tall man clothed in a long-skirted loose great-coat, with a crook in his hand.
“He is there! I see him! It is John Habergeon!” exclaimed Clavering. “We shall now learn whether he has succeeded in engaging the vessel.”
“He has failed,” cried Colonel Gunter. “See you not he holds the crook horizontally above his head, as was agreed should be the signal in that event.”
“I fear it is so,” Clavering replied. “But give me your crook, and I will make the matter sure.”
As he spoke, he placed the two staves crosswise, and held them aloft.
In answer to the signal, the individual on the opposite hill instantly dropped his crook, and extended his long arms horizontally from his body.
“There is now no doubt whatever of failure,” Clavering observed, in a tone of disappointment. “A vessel is not to be procured for the king at Newhaven. We must seek for means of transport across the Channel elsewhere.”
“Stay! he has more to communicate,” Colonel Gunter exclaimed. “He has fixed a white kerchief like a small banner to the hook of his staff, and hoists it aloft.”
“That is the signal of danger,” rejoined Clavering. “And look! he waves the kerchief thrice. The danger is urgent. He himself is making off. We must fly.”
“Ay, let us to Racton at once,” Colonel Gunter returned. “Nothing more is to be done here. If we are lucky enough to reach my house, we can rest in security, and hatch fresh schemes for his Majesty’s deliverance.”
On this, they crossed the encampment, and plunged into the devious and secluded dell on the right.
They reached Racton, after many hairbreadth ‘scapes, on the evening of the following day. Nearly a fortnight elapsed before John Habergeon was able to join his young master, and he then brought word that Colonel Maunsel had been dangerously ill—in fact, at the point of death—but was now better. Immediately on his recovery, the colonel had gone over to Lewes to surrender himself to Stelfax, and procure the liberation of Mr. Beard and Dulcia, who had been taken as hostages for him by the Republican officer. This the colonel had accomplished, and he had furthermore obtained permission, on account of his infirmities, to continue a prisoner on parole at his own dwelling. Such was the sum of the intelligence brought by the old trooper from Ovingdean Grange; and it was far better than could have been anticipated. Information of Lord Wilmot’s movements, and of those of his royal master, was furnished by the faithful and active emissary, Ninian Saxby, who passed constantly to and fro between the Cavaliers in various disguises. Many changes of plan took place, but at last it was definitively settled that the king should embark at Shoreham, and Colonel Gunter received orders to hire Captain Tattersall’s brig, the Swiftsure.
VII
WHAT HAPPENED AT THE “DOLPHIN” AT SHOREHAM
OUR story must now be advanced about a week beyond the foregoing date, which will bring us to the 13th of October, 1651. On the afternoon of this day, two well-mounted horsemen, followed at a respectful distance by a servant likewise on horseback, rode from Bramber towards Shoreham. To judge from their attire, both horsemen must be Roundheads. They wore neither laced cloaks nor laced bands. Their garments were sad-coloured, and destitute of all embroidery, and their hats tall and steeple-crowned, and lacking feathers. Moreover, their locks were cropped close to the head. Their servant, a tall, powerful-looking man, well-stricken in years, was habited as became a follower of such puritanical-looking masters. But though the horsemen were dressed like Roundheads, their deportment, when not in the presence of witnesses, would have led to a very different conclusion, and any one who could have listened to their discourse would soon have learnt that they belonged to the opposite faction. Once more we have to announce our friends Colonel Gunter and Clavering Maunsel in a new disguise, though it will be scarcely necessary, we think, to state that their tall old serving-man was John Habergeon.