“I have no reason to be ashamed either of my name or calling,” replied Tattersall, bluffly. “I am Nicholas Tattersall, captain of the Swiftsure, now lying in Shoreham harbour. My papers are all regular, if you desire to look at them,” he added, producing a packet from his breast.
“No, I care not to see them,” replied Delves. “I am satisfied with what you tell me. But mark me, Nicholas Tattersall. Certain intelligence has reached me that the Young Man Charles Stuart is in this neighbourhood, and is seeking to obtain passage in some vessel across the Channel. Take heed thou aidest him not, or thou wilt be hanged as a traitor.”
“Hanged, quotha!—hang our captain!” hiccupped Charles. Not while Will Jackson can lift an arm (hiccup). If any man touches our capt’n (hiccup), I’ll smash him like this pipe,” breaking the pipe to pieces upon the table.
“You ought to put these two drunkards in irons, and give them a round dozen apiece in the morning,” said Delves, angrily.
“I must take a lesson from your service,” rejoined Tattersall. “You are strict enough, I make no doubt. Yet methinks I have heard of some delinquencies on the part of the troopers at Ovingdean Grange.”
“That will never occur again,” said Delves, somewhat abashed. “But there is one person here whom I have not yet questioned. Thy name and station?” he added to Colonel Gunter. “Take care thou dost not equivocate.”
“I had best not equivocate with you, sergeant, that I can see plainly enough,” replied Gunter. “My name is Seek-the-Fold Stray-Not Lamb—Four-Year-Old South-Down Mutton, the profane are wont to call me in derision. I am a Muggletonian, and hold forth at the conventicle in Ship-Street. If thou doubtest me, sergeant, appeal to the host.”
“Thou art mocking me, I suspect, friend,” said Delves, sternly.
“He hath spoken falsely, sergeant,” said Nathan Guestling, who was one of the troopers standing behind. “He hath already been a prisoner in our hands. It is the man whom our captain chased across the downs on that unlucky night, and brought back a prisoner to Ovingdean. Pluck the spectacles from off his nose, and the cap from off his head, and thou wilt instantly recognize him. I knew him at once.”
“Thou art right, Nathan!—it is he!” exclaimed Delves. “I am glad we shall not go away empty-handed. Thou art my prisoner,” he added to Colonel Gunter; “come forth, or my men will fire upon thee.”
“Nay, I will come peaceably,” replied Gunter, stepping forward.
Nathan Guestling and Besadaiah (for the latter also was present) placed themselves one on either side of the prisoner, and in this manner he was led out of the room. But just as he was going forth he whispered to the landlord that he felt certain of a rescue, and would be back again ere long. Shortly afterwards, a trampling in the inn-yard announced the departure of the troopers, and the host came in to say they were gone—though the satisfactory intelligence was somewhat damped by the thought that Colonel Gunter had been carried off a captive.
IV
CONTAINING PARTICULARS OF THE CONFLICT ON KINGSTON HILL, AND OF THE EMBARKATION AT SHOREHAM
CHARLES would have been greatly troubled by the loss of his faithful adherent, had he not felt almost certain that Gunter would be rescued by Clavering and the other Royalists hovering about the town, and that he should see him again before he started for Shoreham. Lord Wilmot was also of the same opinion. Whatever Tattersall might secretly think of the chances in the colonel’s favour he kept his sentiments to himself, and continued to puff away at his pipe; but the host and hostess were loud in their expressions of delight at his Majesty’s providential escape.
“I owe my safety entirely to Captain Tattersall,” observed Charles. “Had he not brought these disguises with him, Lord Wilmot and I should have been infallibly detected.”
“It was lucky I thought of them,” replied Tattersall, quietly.
Shortly after this, a very nice little supper was placed on the table by the hostess, to which both the monarch and his companions did ample justice. A glass or two of choice canary, poured out for him by Mrs. Smith, quickly dispelled the king’s gloom, and before the repast was over he had regained his customary spirits, and was laughing and talking as merrily as ever. As soon as the table was cleared, pipes and tobacco were again introduced. A jug of cold water and a bottle of right Nantz were placed near Captain Tattersall, but Charles and Lord Wilmot confined their potations to canary. As it was now getting late, and all the other guests in the house had long since left, the inn doors were locked, and the servants, who were no longer required, were sent to bed. By his Majesty’s special invitation, the host and hostess joined the party in the parlour, and it was ever afterwards a subject of infinite gratulation to them that they had been allowed to sit down in his Majesty’s presence. Captain Tattersall, who was of a jovial turn, did his best to amuse the company—sang nautical ballads, and related droll incidents in his own career, at which the king laughed heartily.