It was old Colman Killigrew who spoke, and his voice sounded strangely near. He might be standing close to my ear.
"We have need, and that quickly."
I gave a start. The voice was Uncle Anthony's, and he spoke as one having authority. Instinctively I stretched out my hands, but I touched nothing. Why were these men's voices so plain?
"How many swords can you command?" asked Otho Killigrew.
"In twenty-four hours, a thousand," replied Uncle Anthony.
"And Hugh Boscawen hath five thousand," was old Colman Killigrew's rejoinder.
"Yes, but where be they? Here, there, everywhere. He hath gone about this work like a fool. No method—no order. Besides he is ignorant of what we know. To-night is Wednesday. To-morrow night at this time Charles lands at Veryan Bay. We must meet him with a thousand men. Then must we go silently to Tregothnan, and make Boscawen prisoner. When the true king lands, and Boscawen appeareth not, the very men who would have fought against us will be for us. Besides, is not the man John Wesley a papist? True, I have not seen him, but rumour hath it that his followers long for the return of a Catholic king."
"You depend too much on rumour, Father Anthony," said Otho moodily.
"What say you?"
"That I have ceased to trust you," replied Otho boldly. "I cannot forget the part you have played in the flight of Nancy; or in your treatment of Roger Trevanion. It is well to have that matter settled. We trusted you, and you failed us; but for you Mistress Nancy would have been my wife ere this."