On their regaining the deck of the Phoenix McKeller manifested great anxiety to hear the result of the interview, and the master had a greatly interested audience as he proceeded to describe the scene with many embellishments and quaint touches of his own. What seemed to have struck him most was Kirke′s helpless rage, and the speechless anger he exhibited at the attack upon his courage and capacity.

Gervase lay against the bulwarks listening without a word; his eyes were fixed on the square tower of the Cathedral rising through the pall of smoke that overhung the city. In thought he saw the haggard gunners on the war-torn battlements, and the sorrowing crowd pouring out from the morning service. His mind was filled with the horror and misery of it, and his heart was bitter within him. He suddenly started and cleared his eyes as if he could not trust his sight; then he looked again. “Merciful God!” he cried, “the flag is down.”

The little knot of men round him turned to look too, and they saw with sinking hearts that the flag, the garrison′s token of defiance, was no longer 326waving on the Cathedral tower. A great silence fell upon them all--a silence in which one heard the lapping of the water about the bows and the distant scream of the sea-birds, startling and shrill.

“God′s curse light on all traitors and cowards!” cried McKeller.

Then they saw two jets of fire spurt forth from the tower, and a little later the sullen roar of the ordnance, and the hope came into their hearts that it was only in sign of their dire extremity that the garrison had hauled down the flag. And they waited and watched, and again they heard the thunder of the cannon pealing from the tower. Then above the crown of smoke they saw the crimson flag run up the staff, and they knew the city was still inviolate. An involuntary cheer broke from the crew of the Phoenix, which was taken up by the other vessels, and a minute or two afterwards the Swallow fired a salvo in response.

“They have awakened up at last,” cried the master. “Now we′ll even go below and try the boiled beef, and mayhap a runnel of grog.”

“Not a drop of grog,” cried McKeller, “but what boiled beef you like. The wind is freshening from the north, and the Lord may want sober men for this day′s work.”

The captain was not destined to join in their midday meal; hardly had they sat down and hardly had McKeller, who generally acted as chaplain by reason of his superior gravity, finished the long grace by which the meal was introduced, than a messenger 327came from Kirke, that Douglas was to hasten with all expedition on board the Swallow.

“The more haste the less speed,” cried the Captain, to whom the summons was by no means a welcome one, and who had no taste for a further interview with Kirke. “I′ll have to answer for your speech, Mr. Orme, I′m thinking. I wish McKeller there was in my shoes.”

“You were still good to McKeller,” laughed the mate, “but this time you′ll have to do your own business.”

“I hope,” said Gervase, “that this time it means business and not more speech. And I think it does. Bring us the news, Master Douglas, that you are to lift your anchor, and I′ll not forget you as long as I live.”

“Please Heaven, you may look for your night-cap in Derry to-night.”

“With a sound head to put it in.”

“The boat is waiting, and so is the General,” added the mate.

The captain hurried out of the round-house, and Gervase and the mate sat down to finish their midday meal with but little appetite for their repast. The conversation between them flagged, and then the mate went out and presently returned with his prayer-book under his arm, from which he began to read in a low monotonous tone, following the words, like a backward schoolboy, with his forefinger. He never looked up but sat with his rough unkempt head bent over the book.

328Half an hour passed in this way, when they heard the sound of the boat alongside and the Captain′s voice shouting to get the mainsail set.

Presently he burst into the cabin, his face all glowing with excitement and his small blue eyes dancing in his head. He ran forward and caught Gervase in both his arms, “It′s come at last, dear lad, ′tis come at last. Your speech hath done it, and we′ll moor by the quay to-night with the blessing of God. This is no time for books, McKeller, no time for books. The Lord be praised! We′re up the river in an hour. Browning and myself and the old Dartmouth, with Leake to give us the lead.”

Gervase and McKeller were on their feet shaking one another by the hand. They could hardly believe the good news. Then, overcome by his feelings so long pent up, Gervase burst into tears and sobbed aloud. The captain stood aghast, but the mate laid his hand on the young fellow′s shoulder and said with rugged kindliness: “I like you all the better for your tears, Mr. Orme; you have shown that you can do a man′s work, with a man′s heart under your jacket; ′twill do you good,--rain on the parched grass, as the book has it. Now, you old sea dog, what are you staring at? Go on with your story and let us know what we have to do.”

“I′ll clap you in irons for a rank mutineer,” laughed the captain. “Lord love you, when I got aboard Kirke was like a lamb; not a damn in him, but all ‘By your leave′ and ‘At your pleasure′. The council of officers had resolved to attack the passage 329that afternoon, the wind and the tide being favourable, and the messenger, that being you, Mr. Orme, having brought news that rendered their instant moving imperative, and more stuff of that kind. I could have laughed in his face, but for the cruel white and red in his eye. I don′t like a man to have too much white in his eye.”

“Go on with your story.”

The Dartmouth goes first, and draws the fire at Culmore; we go on with what speed we can till we get to the barrier. That must give way by hook or crook, and then up the river. A good day′s work, I′m thinking, but the little Phoenix will do her share if Andrew Douglas be alive to see it."

“With the help of God we′ll all see it,” cried the mate. “This will be a great day for all of us.”

“Serve out a measure of rum to every man-jack on board, and get under way with all the haste ye can. In a quarter of an hour ye′ll see the little Phoenix slipping through the water like a seagull. Come, Mr. Orme, and lend a hand with the weapons. I take it you are well used to them.”

Gervase followed the captain on deck where the men were busy with the halliards, and all was lively confusion and disorder. The seamen were already swarming on the yards of the Dartmouth, and the long boat of the Swallow was in the water, with the carpenters hammering upon the rough barricado with which they were protecting her sides. The wind which from the morning had been blowing in quiet airs from the north-west, had gone round to 330the north and had freshened somewhat. In the summer sky there was hardly a cloud; the waves leapt and flashed in the sunshine, and the vessels were beginning to plunge at their cables in the livelier sea.

By the time that Gervase had finished his scrutiny of the cutlasses and muskets, and had seen to the loading of the three guns that the Phoenix carried, McKeller and the men had the vessel under sail. Then the windlass was manned, and it was only when the anchor had been lifted, and the............