“Why so?”
“Because the gentlemen of your army, in dragging my boat up the river with a cable pulled by their horses, have battered it a little upon the rocks of the shore, so that I have at least two feet of water in my hold, my lord.”
“The greater reason why you should watch your boat, I think.”
“My lord, I am quite at your orders,” said the fisherman; “I shall empty my baskets where you wish; then you will pay me, if you please to do so; and you will send me away, if it appears right to you. You see I am very easily managed and pleased, my lord.”
“Come, come, you are a very good sort of fellow,” said Monck, whose scrutinizing glance had not been able to find a single shade in the clear eye of the fisherman. “Holloa, Digby!” An aid-de-camp appeared. “You will conduct this good fellow and his companions to the little tents of the canteens, in front of the marshes, so that they will be near their bark, and yet will not sleep on board tonight. What is the matter, Spithead?”
Spithead was the sergeant from whom Monck had borrowed a piece of tobacco for his supper. Spithead having entered the general’s tent without being sent for, had drawn this question from Monck.
“My lord,” said he, “a French gentleman has just presented himself at the outposts and wishes to speak to your honor.”
All this was said, be it understood, in English; but, notwithstanding, it produced a slight emotion in the fisherman, which Monck, occupied with his sergeant, did not remark.
“Who is the gentleman?” asked Monck.
“My lord,” replied Spithead, “he told it me; but those devils of French names are so difficult to pronounce for a Scottish throat, that I could not retain it. I believe, however, from what the guards say, that it is the same gentleman who presented himself yesterday at the halt, and whom your honor would not receive.”
“That is true; I was holding a council of officers.”
“Will your honor give any orders respecting this gentleman?”
“Yes, let him be brought here.”
“Must we take any precautions?”
“Such as what?”
“Blinding his eyes, for instance?”
“To what purpose? He can only see what I desire should be seen; that is to say, that I have around me eleven thousand brave men, who ask no better than to have their throats cut in honor of the parliament of Scotland and England.”
“And this man, my lord?” said Spithead, pointing to the fisherman, who, during this conversation, had remained standing and motionless, like a man who sees but does not understand.
“Ah, that is true,” said Monck. Then turning towards the fisherman—“I shall see you again, my brave fellow,” said he; “I have selected a lodging for you. Digby, take him to it. Fear nothing; your money shall be sent to you presently.”
“Thank you, my lord,” said the fisherman, and after having bowed, he left the tent, accompanied by Digby. Before he had gone a hundred paces he found his companions, who were whispering with a volubility which did not appear exempt from uneasiness, but he made them a sign which seemed to reassure them. “Holà, you fellows!” said the patron, “come this way. His lordship, General Monck, has the generosity to pay us for our fish, and the goodness to give us hospitality for tonight.”
The fishermen gathered round their leader, and, conducted by Digby, the little troop proceeded towards the canteens, the post, as may be remembered, which had been assigned them. As they went along in the dark, the fishermen passed close to the guards who were conducting the French gentleman to General Monck. This gentleman was on horseback and enveloped in a large cloak, which prevented the patron from seeing him, however great his curiosity might be. As to the gentleman, ignorant that he was elbowing compatriots, he did not pay any attention to the little troop.
The aid-de-camp settled his guests in a tolerably comfortable tent, from which was dislodged an Irish canteen woman, who went, with her six children, to sleep where she could. A large fire was burning in front of this tent, and threw its purple light over the grassy pools of the marsh, rippled by a fresh breeze. The arrangements made, the aid-de-camp wished the fishermen good night, calling to their notice that they might see from the door of the tent the masts of their bark, which was tossing gently on the Tweed, a proof that it had not yet sunk. The sight of this appeared to delight the leader of the fishermen infinitely.
24
The Treasure
The French gentleman whom Spithead had announced to Monck, and who, closely wrapped in his cloak, had passed by the fishermen who left the general’s tent five minutes before he entered it—the French gentleman went through the various posts without even casting his eyes around him, for fear of appearing indiscreet. As the order had been given, he was conducted to the tent of the general. The gentleman was left alone in the sort of antechamber in front of the principal body of the tent, where he awaited Monck, who only delayed till he had heard the report of his people, and observed through the opening of the canvas the countenance of the person who solicited an audience.
Without doubt, the report of those who had accompanied the French gentleman established the discretion with which he had behaved, for the first impression the stranger received of the welcome made him by the general was more favorable than he could have expected at such a moment, and on the part of so suspicious a man. Nevertheless, according to his custom, when Monck found himself in the presence of a stranger, he fixed upon him his penetrating eyes, which scrutiny, the stranger, on his part, sustained without embarrassment or notice. At the end of a few seconds, the general made a gesture with his hand and head in sign of attention.
“My lord,” said the
