In this church of Lestithiel, then, I dwelt from the day of my capture (August 10) until the last of the month, and on the whole very cheerfully; for we saw that the rebels intended us no injury, and from some of them we had news of Sir Jacob Astley's seizing the forts at the entry of Fowey Haven and so cutting off Essex from his supplies by sea; wherefore we told ourselves that the Earl must either surrender or make a desperate push to cut a way through his Majesty's posts, and that, whichever he might choose, our liberty would not be long delayed.
Also, and besides my copying of the scutcheons, I pleased myself with composing of a chronogramma which I here present to the reader. I thought it mighty ingenious at the time: and so it is, and I spent four days upon it—
VIVat reX, CoMes esseXIVs DIssIpatVr.
or, in English, "Long live the King, the Earl of Essex is put to the rout." You will see that, by taking out from the Latin all the letters that stand for Roman numerals—and no other—you get the Annus Domini 1644: in this way—
| MDC together make sixteen hundred | } | the total 1644. |
| and | } | |
| XXVVVV, forty | } | |
| and | } | |
| IIII, four | } |
I have shown it to many in private, and all agree that no better chronogramma was made during the late troubles: but, to be sure, I had leisure for it.
To leave these toys—on the last day but one of August, and a little before nine in the evening, there came into the church (that was lit by a few lanterns only) two foot-soldiers bearing a ladder between them and a rope, which presently they set down in a corner by the belfry and departed. They being scarce gone, by-and-by there entered two other soldiers with a prisoner, whom they unbound—for his arms had been trussed behind him—and bade make what cheer he might until the morrow. Now, whether he had spied us or not as they brought him in I cannot say; but, being loosed, he moved at first down the aisle uncertainly as a man might who found even the dull light too strong for his eyes—then with a quick tottering step towards us, that were gathered around a lantern and taking our supper near the belfry: and as he drew toward us I knew him for old Carminowe.
"Why, what harm can they have found in you?" asked I, taking his hand (as fellows will in misfortune) and giving him a seat beside us. At this distance of time I will own that this speech of mine seems not over-delicate; yet these were the words I used, and, be sure, I meant them well.
He put my question aside. "You had ill-luck," he said. "I watched you from the high ground, and my heart went with you; that is to say, with you, Sir—and with you." Here he bowed to Grylls and Jack Trecarrel, and went on as if explaining his performance lucidly. "My son, Sirs, had he lived, would have been about your age. He died at eighteen and a few months: but I think of him year by year as alive and growing, and so I seem to share in his hopes and his high mettle."