"'Tis I," came the answer; "'tis I, Timothy Trollope of Plymouth town. And I crave your help, Master Whiddon, and the help of as many men as there may be in your house. 'Twas Master Richard Drake that sent me hither. He is down by the beach yonder, lying in wait for the Spanish prisoners who have made their escape. We have tracked them thus far, and have now discovered that a ship is lying in readiness to carry them off to Spain."
"Escaped, have they?" cried Captain Whiddon. "Then, by thunder, if that be so I am with you, my master!" And leaving Timothy standing at the door he returned into the room and called upon Pennington and Hartop to buckle their swords about them, and join with him in the adventure.
Jacob Hartop was the first of the three men to join Timothy in the little garden in front of the house. He carried a long sword and a heavy, cumbrous pistol and a large knotted stick.
"So 'tis you, Master Trollope?" said he, as he glanced into Timothy's face by the light from the window. "And, prithee, how cometh it that thou hast taken to the constable's work of chasing fugitive prisoners?"
"'Twas by chance that I heard the rogues had escaped," said Tim, moving towards the gate as if in eagerness to get down to the beach. "I was passing beside the gaol when Master Richard Drake ran out crying for men to help him, for that his prisoners had escaped. I joined in the crowd, following Master Drake at his horse's heels."
"Ah!" returned Hartop, "trust a Spaniard for winning his way out of a pent-house. They are like unto serpents for guile and cunning, as I well know, who have lived in their midst. But I'll engage that these could scarce have won their freedom without help from the outside. Dost know if they had any such help, Master Trollope?"
Timothy did not reply at the moment, for Whiddon and Pennington had now joined them, and were calling upon the lad to lead the way to the spot where the escaped Spaniards might be expected to be found.
"Yonder lies their ship," explained Timothy, pointing out to the shadowy headland, below which the faint outline of a vessel's hull could be seen. Then, as his eyes still rested upon the ship, he suddenly gripped old Hartop's arm. "Look at her, Jacob Hartop! Look at her well!" he cried. "Dost know the craft, man?"
"Nay, how should I know one ship from another in such uncertain light, and with eyes so dim as mine be?" questioned the old man.