While I was dimly recognising these matters, the rap on my head still troubling me somewhat, I was startled by a groan close at my left hand. This was succeeded by a succession of snorts and sniffs, as if some person were slowly awaking from a sound slumber, and presently my ears were saluted by the voice of Jack Drumbleforth, who had evidently been bundled into the cellar in a much more damaged state than myself.
“Plague on it!” said Jack, as if grumbling to himself; “my head hums like a church tower in ringing time. Where on earth are we that ’tis so dark? Methinks this couch is not of the softest. Will—Will Dale!”
“I am near thee, Jack.”
“Hah!” said he. “Well, I knew thou wouldst not be far away. Where are we, Will? Fighting we were, I know; and some ugly crop-eared varlet gave me a foul blow from the rear, and then—why, then, I remember little more.”
“Nor I, Jack, for someone treated me after the same fashion. But, Jack, where is Philip Lisle?”
“Plague on it! he was with us too. Nay, they may have killed honest Philip outright!”
“It may be that he is in this hole with us,” I said, beginning to feel around me in the darkness. “Stretch out your arms, Jack, and search for him.”
Now, the whole place was so black that I was almost afraid to get on my legs and explore it, lest I should fall down some sudden pit in the floor, and thus come to worse things. However, I rose up, and cautiously felt around me, meeting with naught but damp walls and a slippery floor. Further off I heard Jack grumbling at our fate, and uttering many condemnations upon those who had brought us to it.
“An I had his worship down here,” said Jack, “I would teach him better than to throw three gentlemen such as we into this vile foxhole. What, things are come to a pretty pass indeed when a round-bellied old butcher like yonder shallow-pated graybeard sits on the bench to administer justice! Where art thou, Will? As for me, I am wandering in Stygian darkness.”
“Do you feel aught of Master Lisle, Jack?”
“Nay, lad, I have felt naught yet save this greasy floor and these damp walls. This—Ah, here is something, Will, under my foot. ’Tis a man! I swear ’tis poor Master Lisle.”
By that time I had felt my way towards Jack’s direction, and I stooped down and laid my hand on the body.
“Master Lisle it is, Jack, and none other. Pray God he is not dead! Nay, his heart beats, and he breathes. If we had but a cup of water!”
“God be praised!” said Jack. “I have a bottle of cordial in my pocket, which I bought of Master Sage, the apothecary, for old Deborah, our housekeeper. She useth it for the falling sickness, but ’tis my opinion that it hath somewhat of strong waters in it, and is not ungrateful to the palate. What do you say, Will; shall we pour a drop into his mouth?”
“Quick, Jack, uncork the bottle and let me try it. I am holding his head on my knee. Can you feel him in the darkness? Pour it gently between his lips.”
“Plague on this black hole!” said Jack. “I have poured a good half down his doublet. Hold his head steady, Will. There, good Master Lisle, how is it with you? ’Tis a fine cordial this, Will, and strong enough to bring a dead horse to life. There, thou seest, he is coming round. Shall I dose him again?”
“Gently, Jack, do not choke him. Thy cordial smells like strong waters.”
“Good faith, lad, ’tis little else. Shouldst see our old Deborah smack her lips over it! ‘A little drop, Master John,’ she says, ‘the leastest drop in the world, Master John, is a fine thing for a sinking heart.’ So ho! Master Lisle, pull yourself together, man!”
Now, the effect of the cordial was so praiseworthy that Philip Lisle began to cough and then to struggle in my arms, and finally raised his hand to his head and uttered a most fervent groan, which, though dismal enough in itself, was to me the sweetest music I ever heard. For I had feared he was mortally hurt, and then what should I have said to Mistress Rose if ever we got out of that black abyss again?
“How do you now, sir?” said Jack.
“Oh!” said Philip Lisle. “My head rings like is it you, Jack, and where are we, and where is Will Dale?”
“Here I am, sir, holding you up,” said I.
“And I am here, holding the cordial,” said Jack. “Try another drop, sir—’tis, I assure you, the right sort.”
“They have clapped us into gaol, I suppose,” said Philip Lisle, having again drunk of the contents of Mistress Deborah’s bottle. “Well, ’tis dark enow for aught.”
“This is no gaol,” said Jack, “but only his worship’s cellar, and a damp hole it is. We are like to have the ague an we lie here much longer, let alone the rheumatics. However, ’tis the fortune of war.”
“Let me stand up,” said Philip Lisle. “Alack, lads, my head feels sore where yonder snub-nosed rogue struck me with his quarterstaff. Well, how long are we like to remain here, I wonder?”
“Till master magistrate can do justice upon us, I should think,” said Jack.
“Why, man, what breach of the peace have we committed? We are in the right; ’tis they who are in the wrong, rebels and traitors that they are!”
“Yea, surely,” said Jack; “but they have might on their side, and might, they say, is right all the world over. However, what care I? When I elected to fight, I did not expect to fight with a branch of asphodel. Let us be as content as possible. If we had
