As for the Mayor of Lyme, one Gregory Alford, he was wellnigh beside himself because of these three mysterious ships which thus kept beating up and down our bay, and (though a gun was fired from shore) refused to answer or to send the King's boat back to land. A Royalist to his finger-tips, and owner of two vessels doing a fine trade in cloths with the merchants of Morlaix, he was also a bitter persecutor of the Nonconformists, and, at that very time, had the minister and leaders locked up snugly in the jail. For the which he was much hated, Lyme being then a hot-bed of dissent. Thus, when, scarce knowing what he did, he had the town drums beaten, and called out the town guard (a sorry tag of ill-armed men), the people laughed and jeered, and asked how that was going to help the matter.
Not till the afternoon was well advanced did I bethink me to go home, and then 'twas to find the place deserted, save for old Anne, the housekeeper; and she, poor soul, was sorely deaf. After much bawling, I made out that news of the ships had reached even to this quiet spot, and that all our faithless hands--groom, gardener, boy, and everyone--had gone down to the Cobb. As for my father, she handed me a letter from him. It told me that he had received an urgent summons eight miles inland to the bedside of an old friend who lay dying, and that he would not return till nightfall. A post scriptum bade me watch the garden when the dusk came.
This suited me right well. Laughing at the thought of Tubal Ammon, I saddled my mare (the ever-faithful Kitty), rode back to the town, and, having put my horse up at the "George" there, hurried seawards.
'Twas now high tide, and thus the Cobb was cut off from the land;[1] but a great crowd was gathered on the shore, with the drums and town guard in the rear.
[1] The Cobb did not then, as now, join the land, but was out off from it at high water.
Pushing through the throng, I gained a spot near Dassell and the Mayor, and added two more eyes to those already fixed upon the ships, which had now come to anchor in the bay.
"Well, well, what make you of it now?" I heard the Mayor ask Dassell anxiously.
"Rank mischief," snapped the deputy.
"What's to be done, then?"
"Naught can be done, sir. The time for doing has gone by. Had I had my way, the scoundrels should have answered long ago, or been the heavier by some cannon-balls. But now it is too late. We can do naught save watch."