They listened intently, while the sound came unmistakably nearer.
"Hist, Jack!" said Hugh, in a low voice; "that must be the redcoats coming from Jameson's dinner."
"'T is sure to be, judging from the reckless fashion of their riding. Leet, come with us,—'t is as well to step behind the boathouse until they pass, for we want no challenging at this hour of the night." And as John Devereux said this, he and his companions passed quickly behind the small building.
A dull yellow gleam showed smearingly through the fog as the horsemen clattered by, with here and there a lantern fastened to their saddles; and their loud laughter and boisterous talk seemed to bespeak a free indulgence in good wines and liquors.
As they struck the beach they fell into a more sober pace, and the last two, riding side by side, were talking in tones that came distinctly to the ears of those concealed behind the boathouse.
"'T is like that Southorn hopes to obtain more certain information by accepting the old fellow's hospitality," said one of them; "for it cannot be that the wine is the only attraction, to judge from the way he passed it by to-night."
"Aye," was the reply. "He seemed not to care whether it were good Christian fare we were having once more, or the dogs' food of the camp."
"Maybe he is sickened, like the rest of us, with this heathen land and its folk, and rues the day he ever left the only country fit for a man to live in, to be sent to this strip o' land, with never a petticoat or bright eye to make the stupid time a little more bearable."
The other man laughed. "Perchance if we could but get speech with Jameson's fair friend of whom he prated so much, we might be singing another tune. What was it he called her—such a heathenish name it was never my lot to hear before?"
"He called her 'Mistress Penine;' but she is no blushing maid, for he said—"