"And so I am," cried Lieutenant Everard indignantly; "of His Majesty's ship Britomart, presently cruising in these waters."
Adam Ferris bowed gravely, as one who receives valuable information.
"I congratulate you," he said. "As for the young men, Fergus, Stair and Agnew Garland, they are fine lads and a credit to the neighbourhood. I cannot imagine that they have anything more to do with the traffic of which you speak than I myself. But if they have been reported to you as guilty, I am prepared to take cognizance of the evidence. I presume you did not come here without a warrant."
"We need no warrant," said the Lieutenant. "I am in command of His Majesty's press."
The expression of Adam Ferris's face changed suddenly.
"My tenants and my tenants' sons are not subject to the press-gang. There are no sailors among them—no, nor yet any fishermen."
"Captain Laurence of the dragoons is with us, sir," interpolated Eben McClure; "he has a right to beat up for recruits for the land forces."
"Ah," said Adam, "at fairs and markets, with fife and drum—yes! But not all over my estate, nor yet to meddle with my tenantry."
"He has particular permission from Earl Raincy," said the spy.
"I am not Earl Raincy, nor are my lands his," quoth Adam Ferris; "but, by the way, where is this Captain Laurence of whom you speak?"