Immediately without the War Prison stood a ruined cot, and, distant some few hundred yards to the north-east beneath it, a river ran. This stream, named Blackabrook, was crossed by a pack-horse road that passed over Ockery Bridge; and here, one hundred years ago, in place of the existing cottage, there stood a neat little dwelling-house. Verandahs extended round it; the walls were of granite, and the roof of reeds. Upon one side a view of Prince Town spread, while southward its windows commanded the valley of the river.

Here dwelt Captain Cottrell, Commandant of the prison settlement; and now, together with a handsome, genial man clad in black, he shall be seen sitting under his verandah and drinking port wine after midday dinner. The Captain\'s visitor was of a kindly countenance and pleasant voice.

"So much for that, then, Mr. Norcot. You\'ll send to us from your mills at Chagford such quantities of flocks as Government shall determine for the new mattresses."

"Exactly. I\'m always gratified to oblige the Government."

"We can make them here—the mattresses, I mean. We have a little world of skilled artificers within our walls. You see, Holland is in league with Napoleon, and many of our captives taken out of Dutch vessels are Eurasians, Malays and Chinese from the service of the Dutch East India Company. The world has sent us representatives of every civilised race, and among them are craftsmen from each trade that man practises."

Peter Norcot nodded.

"\'All sorts and conditions of men.\' Do you recollect what Shenstone says?

"\'Let the gull\'d fool the toils of war pursue,
Where bleed the many to enrich the few.\'

You shall have your flocks and a good article. Since my lamented senior partner\'s death I have been busy in certain directions. Uncle Norman Norcot was a conscientious and a conservative soul, and he regarded the new labour-saving contrivances with the utmost suspicion. How he hated \'em! But amongst such things there is a remarkable new flock-cutter. These matters, however, will not interest you."

The Captain emptied his glass and rose.

"I\'ll take your word for all that. Now come along. You desire a glimpse of our caged beasts and the Prison?"

"Even so—delighted to exchange my flocks for your herds."

An orderly brought round their horses and in five minutes Peter departed with Captain Cottrell.

"Now enter the bear garden, Mr. Norcot, and do not fear the growling. For reasons not known to me, my beasts have a hearty hatred of their head keeper."

It was true, and Norcot observed that his guide won little but scowls and indifference upon his way through the prisons. Occasionally an officer among the captives would salute him; as a rule the prisoners turned their backs.

"A strange and many-coloured assembly—of rags," commented Norcot. "\'Spectatum admissi risum tenatis amici?\' But really to the man of sentiment \'tis a matter for tears rather than laughter. I observe you are unpopular, Commandant."

"The fate of most men who do their duty, sir."

"How true!"

"Not one fool amongst them has the wit to guess at my onerous labours," continued Cottrell. "Old General Rochambeau, who is living on parole with me at Ockery Bridge, will scarcely exchange a civil word, and prefers to eat his meals in the seclusion of his chamber. He is for ever abusing \'Les mirmidons de Transport Service\'; and yet the ancient ass makes me laugh sometimes. He received letters recently, and one of them told him that Napoleon would land in England on the twenty-third of July last. Upon that day he appeared in full dress, booted and spurred, with all his orders on—ready to welcome Boney should he honour Dartmoor with a visit."

"He may come here yet—to stop."

"I hope so. Be very sure no parole will ever be granted to one who has so often broke his oath."

They had now entered Prison No. 4.

"Here are my black sheep," said Captain Cottrell. "One Yankee is more trouble than twenty Frenchmen. Never satisfied. There are exceptional men amongst them—representatives of the old American gentry; but the greater number are the very rubbish and offscourings of the sea, swept here by our men-o\'-war. I believe that near half of them are Englishmen from the privateers. They get high bounties for that work; but they are a reckless and dangerous company. These men set the hulks on fire at Plymouth."

"Made the ships too hot to hold \'em? But they are safe enough here. Tut, tut! Dartmoor would tame the Devil himself, once he was on a chain."

The yellow-coated prisoners wandered about, and some exchanged private jests as Cottrell passed, and some fell into silence until he was out of earshot. Then a very tall, finely built man, drew himself up and saluted the reigning power.

"You see there is a gentleman now and then to be found among them."

"And that particular gentleman I have good cause to know," answered Norcot. "May I exchange compliments with him? \'Twas he who, in a moment of undue haste, broke my head."

Cecil Stark found himself summoned, and Mr. Norcot told the Commandant of their meeting at the church.

"Then, like a lion, he felled me with his paw. I hope no fist will ever hit me so hard again."

"He is prominent among them, and his influence is all for good," said the Commandant carelessly in Stark\'s hearing.

"And a sailor; and doubtless good-hearted, like all sailors. Well, Mr. Stark, your servant, sir."

Cecil Stark recognised the wool-stapler immediately, and shook the hand extended to him.

"I hope I see you well, sir," he said, "and none the worse for my stupidity."

"In excellent health, I thank you. My nose, as you see, stands where it did. Yet I am much reduced from my usual level humour by this sight."

"A dreary spectacle enough."

"You are probably unfamiliar with Cowper? It is your loss.

"\'War\'s a game which, were their subjects wise,
Kings should not play at."

Neither kings nor yet Congresses. Perhaps, had you read Cowper, you would have stopped at home, Mr. Stark?"

"It takes two to fight, Mr. Norcot. My kinsman, General Stark—but I\'ll not prate of that, though this I\'ll say: \'tis a base and a cowardly deed to deny parole to Commodore Miller and his officers. We handled the frigate Marblehead like honest men; and we had fairly beaten your Thunderbolt. She was about to strike when the Flying Fish and the Squirrel hove in sight and bore down. Then she fought on. We ourselves had hardly struck to them before the Thunderbolt sank. These things I learned from the prize crew that brought the Marblehead into Falmouth."

"I understand that there were technical reasons why parole was denied to the officers of the Marblehead," explained Captain Cottrell.

"You may understand, sir," retorted Stark, "but none among us was ever made to do so."

Norcot nodded thoughtfully. True to his invariable custom, he set himself the task of making a friend.

"You get supplies regularly?" he asked.

"He does—and shares \'em with the poorer folks," said Cottrell. "He has great wealth, I believe," he added under his breath.

"You want parole, naturally—like any other officer and gentleman. Why not?

"\'Rash, fruitless war, from wanton glory waged,
Is only splendid murder,\'

as Thomson very truly remarks. Yet even war has its laws."

"Most certainly. And Commodore Miller and his officers possess a right to parole. Miller is one of the ablest men in the navy of the United States," declared the young sailor.

"Ah—possibly that\'s where the difficulty lies. However, though I cannot pretend to any considerable interest, yet some I have with one or two very distinguished gentlemen of the British East India Company. It has been my privilege to do them a service. Maybe Peter Norcot will prove the mouse to nibble you lions out of your granite cage. Who can tell? You have my word of honour that I will endeavour to better your lot."

At friendship so gratuitou............