"Yes—deuced unpleasant affair," yawned the staff officer, of whom I have more to relate elsewhere.
"By whom?"
"Runaway negroes—Caribs in their piraguas—perhaps by pirates, or French privateersmen;—by whom we know not; but as it is thought they may still be lurking in the cane-fields or thickets, some twenty rank and file of yours—all active fellows—are wanted to scour the bush thereabout. Please to detail them at once, my lord; they will not be long detained."
"Instantly," exclaimed the earl, wheeling round his horse.
"I know this place called Boscobelle, my lord—permit me to go?" I asked breathlessly.
"Certainly, Ellis; you're a smart lad," said the earl; "and I like to find a soldier always ready."
How little could our colonel fathom the cause of my readiness and anxiety—my burning impatience to be gone!
Old Glendonwyn gave Lieutenant Haystone the right section of our company; we threw off our knapsacks, haversacks, canteens, blankets, and all that might impede us. I relinquished my sergeant's pike for a musket. We loaded with ball-cartridge, and thus, under my guidance, twenty of the Fusiliers went off, double-quick, towards that place so well known to me, the residence of Eulalie.