The Rock of the Lion

by Molly Elliot Seawell

"I observe, sir," he said, politely, "you wear a blue naval uniform, but it is unlike that of our service—at least, any that I have seen, but I have been long absent from England."

"This is an American uniform, sir," responded Archy, politely. "I am a prisoner of war on my parole and entitled to wear it. I served with Commodore Jones on the Bon Homme Richard, and was captured through my own imprudence when we made the Texel on our return from the cruise in which we captured the Serapis."

At this a slight but marked change came over the officer, and after a moment he said, coldly:

"You will pardon me for saying there is very great imprudence, and even danger, in your wearing that uniform in England."

"Perhaps so," replied Archy, quickly adopting the same reserved tone, "but it is as honorable as any uniform in the world, and I shall continue to wear it. I observe that English officers on their parole in France wear their uniform and are not molested."

The officer passed on without speaking a word, and, courteously assisting the Quaker lady into the coach, stepped in after her, while Archy climbed up on the box-seat. The steps were put up, the door banged to, the guard winded his horn, the coachman cracked his whip, the four horses dashed forward, and with a lurch and a roar little inferior to the Thunderer's in a gale of wind, the Comet started upon its journey.

The afternoon was dreary, and the wintry sun shone fitfully upon the vast moorlands through which the post-road, like a serpent, wound its way. The wind was cutting, and Archy shivered in spite of his great furred cape. The dreariness of the landscape affected him, and, as he had done many times since that unlucky day off the Texel, he felt sad at heart. He had left the Thunderer with regret at Spithead on her arrival. He had been kindly treated, especially by Admiral Kempenfelt, and, although he had made no friend like Langton, he had found good comradeship in the gun-room of the Thunderer. Before sending him ashore, Admiral Kempenfelt had talked with him kindly, and had advised him to go to his grandfather at Bellingham Castle and there await his exchange. The Admiral had strong hopes that, under certain influences, Archy would return, as the Admiral called it, to his King and country; but he forbore to urge it, seeing in the boy a spirit that was quick to resent any fancied dishonor. He had supplied Archy liberally with money, saying to him at the time: "This will not be too much in case Lord Bellingham refuses to see you; for, mark you, my lad, you have a queer case for a grandfather, and what he will do only himself and God Almighty know, so you had better be prepared for emergencies. However, I think you can take care of yourself. Good-bye, and good luck to you!"

Those were the last kind words Archy had heard. In London, being no wiser than any other harum-scarum midshipman who found his pockets full, for the first time, Master Archy had treated himself with great liberality. The playhouses, several cock-fights, excursions by land and water, and a showy outfit had consumed Archy's week in London and Admiral Kempenfelt's money, except the one rouleau of gold, which he exhibited as if he had a bank vault full of them. The subject of his finances deeply engaged Archy's attention as the Comet plunged along the dreary road in the fast-gathering gloom. Occasionally they stopped to take up or let off passengers, but at the last stage—a small village where they changed horses—Archy observed that they had exactly the same complement with which they had started—the officer, the student, the bagman, the Quakeress, and the pert young woman.

As they dashed up to the door of a small and uninviting inn about dark, the landlord bustled out with a candle in his hand, and, addressing the coachman in a loud voice meant for the passengers, began:

"Have you heard the news? The coach returning by Barham Heath was stopped last night about this time and every single shilling taken from the passengers. If the ladies and gentlemen feels squeamish about going on to-night, I can give them good beds—excellent beds. The Bishop of Carlisle slept here a week ago, and his lordship was pleased to say he slept well. And I have lately brewed. His lordship liked the brew exceedingly—"