"Now," said the stranger briefly, "we must divide. I shall proceed to Portallan alone very warily."
The faces of the boys fell at these words. Relinquish their duty before a blow had been struck? It was humiliating—impossible. Philip first found voice. "No, sir," he cried emphatically; "nothing of the kind! My sister bade me not leave your side until you embarked for France, and her word is my law."
"And we stand by Phil," said Vernon, with equal emphasis.
"You are brave boys," the stranger answered, "but you must do to-night as I say. There is no time to argue here, and if I miss the tide I am undone, for loyal captains are rare birds, I promise you. There may be not another safe ship this fortnight."
"But the enemy," said Philip,—"you will have to pass them. How can you do that single-handed?"
"Besides," Hugh interpolated, "is it fair to rob us of our sport like this?"
"Yes," said Vernon, supporting him, "it is seldom enough one has any chance of striking a blow for the cause. We are well armed. We are four to their three."
The young man made a gesture of impatience.
"Peace," he said. "I have told you we must separate; let that be final. You, Philip, shall accompany me part of the way, at any rate—I owe you that; but the others will ride each towards the sea by different but fairly direct ways. They will probably each be pursued, but must do the best they can, avoiding bloodshed if possible. The captain has two men with him, and Vernon and Hugh must each decoy one of them away in pursuit. That will leave merely the captain, who is certain to ride to the port. You, Philip, will divert him, and the way will thus be clear and open to me to get on board. Please God, we all get through safely!"
So saying, the stranger shook hands with Hugh and Vernon, who were convinced by something in his voice that this was their master and nothing more was to be said, and in a moment he and Philip were gone.