We must now, dear reader, turn to other scenes and personages, and pause, somewhat long perhaps, ere we resume the actual history Of poor Arrah Neil; for those voices that were heard below, as we mentioned at the end of the first volume, and the long absence of the landlady, though they may seem simple enough, yet require some longer comment than appears necessary at first sight, and are not unconnected either with the past or future portions of this history.

There is upon the Yorkshire coast, somewhat to the south of Flamborough Head, a small, retired bay, not above a quarter of a mile broad, but deep in relation to the width; for the distance from each of the projecting headlands by which it is formed, to the innermost part of the bay, is nearly three-quarters of a mile. This little natural haven is furnished with a sandy shore, and surrounded by steep rocks at all points but that where it is united with the ocean and at the mouth of a short narrow valley, which leads with a rapid ascent to the tops of the cliff's above. Were it not that it is so difficult of access from the land side, and that the water therein is somewhat shallow, it might form an excellent port, sheltered from almost all winds. But these circumstances have rendered it less frequented than it might be; and though a few boatmen's cottages are now built upon the shore, it is but little known, and at the time I speak of, was without any vestige of human habitation, and rarely trodden by the foot of man.

At about three o'clock, however, of an autumnal night, a boat might be dimly discovered lying on the sandy shore, the tide being then at ebb. In it were four men apparently sailors, two of whom were stretched sound asleep in the stern, whilst two sat talking together in low tones on the gunwale of the boat, supplying the intervals of conversation by manifold potent whiffs of the meditative pipe.

As neither the topics they discussed, nor the language that they used, would be either pleasant or edifying to the reader, we shall not pause upon their discourse, but leave them smoking and talking on, to follow two horsemen down from the entrance of the valley, as, at a slow and cautious pace, they were guided on by a youth some fifteen or sixteen years of age, who, in the hope of a proportionate recompense, took care to point out to them the various obstacles that lay in the way. Now it was a mass of rock, now a large fissure, now a sudden descent. now the course of the little brawling stream, somewhat swelled by the rain which had fallen in the early part of the night.

But all these difficulties were at length overcome, though the one said to the other, that it put him in mind of the Pass of Roncesvalles, and the other replied, "As much like Roncesvalles, my good friend, as a Cheshire cheese is to the Peak of Derby. But, pray recollect your taciturnity. It will not do to break out now. There is the boat, I see;" and advancing over the sand, he spoke a few words to one of the men who was awake, and who replied with the common and significant answer made by Englishmen on so many different occasions of "All's right, sir."

The other man, in the meanwhile, roused up their two companions; and the horsemen dismounted from their beasts, and put the bridles into the hand of the youth who had served them as a guide. The one who appeared to be the principal personage of the party, seemed to add a piece of money to that which he placed in the lad's palm, saying, "Mind you lead them back carefully, and he will give you the same when you deliver the horses to him in good condition."

The young man thanked him warmly, and promised all manner of care. The two cavaliers having placed themselves in the stern of the boat, it was easily pushed off into the sea, which was there calm and tranquil; and the sailors springing in, took to their oars, and pulled away towards the mouth of the bay.

Speedily the little boat began to show that all was not quite so smooth beyond the point; tossing up and down as they approached the open sea, and labouring with the eddies produced by the contending wind and tide amongst the scattered rocks which stood out from the headland. When they had once issued forth upon the bosom of the wide ocean, they found a heavy sea running, and the wind directly contrary to the course they wished to steer, so that but little way was made, notwithstanding the sturdy strokes of the rowers, and day began to dawn before they were a mile from the bay.

The first light of the morning showed them, what they had not before perceived, a small cutter lying at anchor, still at the distance of a mile and a half or two miles; and as they appeared likely to be some hours before they reached her, the one gentleman whispered to the other, "Let us give these poor fellows some relief, Barecolt. You take one oar, and I can take another, and then those who rest can relieve the other two after a while."

"With all my heart, mon colonel," replied Captain Barecolt, "though this water work is neither your trade nor mine."

The proposal of Lord Beverley was soon propounded to the men, and gladly enough adopted; but still a considerable time elapsed before they reached the little cutter, which hoisted sail and put to sea as soon as they were on board.

The morning was fair, with a strong wind blowing, not the most favourable that could be conceived for the course which they were destined to pursue, but still not directly contrary, and they made their way slowly on through the dashing billows, at the rate of some or three or four miles in the hour. Lord Beverley and his companion, Barecolt, walked the deck, speaking little to each other, or to the rest, and the peer keeping a watchful eye upon the loquacious captain, to make sure that he did not give way to his talkative propensities in favour of the skipper, or any of the mariners of the ship.

It was evident that the two passengers were perfectly unknown to their shipmates, both from the manner in which the latter examined them when they came on board, and from the fact of Lord Beverley, whenever he did speak, conversing with Barecolt in French, and addressing the master of the vessel in broken English. The persons of the two gentlemen also were disguised, as far as mere clothing went. Barecolt, for his part, was dressed in a sober-coloured grey suit, with a buff belt, and a black hat and feather. The whole was in very good keeping, except in respect of certain red ribbons, which his taste or finery could not forbear from applying to various parts of his dress; and he might have well passed for a respectable French citizen, somewhat given to the juice of the grape, and not very affluent in his circumstances.

Tire earl was habited more richly, but in a very different style from that of an English cavalier; and although the pointed beard was still in fashion in England, he had sacrificed that ornament of the human countenance to bring himself to the likeness of certain young French nobles, who, at that time, were labouring zealously to exclude beards from fashionable society; and who had so far succeeded, that not long after, one of the old French court, who adhered to the custom of nature and his ancestors, was known by the name of "the man with the beard." This change had made a very great difference in his appearance, which he had increased by dyeing his hair and moustache of a darker hue, so that none but those who knew him intimately would have recognised him without very close inspection.

After sailing on for about two hours, making their way slowly from the English coast, which, however, was still seen rising in long lines above the waters, a large vessel was perceived bearing direct towards them, with all sails set, while a fleet, apparently of fishing-boats, were coming upon the other tack.

The master of the schooner seemed to pay but little attention to either; but Lord Beverley felt some anxiety, and not a little impatience, to ascertain the character of the large vessel, as a ship named the "Good Hope," laden with ammunition, money, and stores, had been daily expected on the coast for the last fortnight, and he had been directed by the king to instruct the officers on board, if he met her on his passage, on no account to trust themselves in Hull, the governor of which had openly declared for the parliament. The master, however, continued to walk up and down the opposite side of the deck, merely giving a casual glance to the other vessel, till the earl crossed over and inquired if he knew the ship that was approaching.

"She is a king's ship," replied the man, with a sort of dull taciturnity, which sailors sometimes affect towards landsmen, especially if they are of a different nation.

"But is it the Good Hope?" demanded the earl. "If so, I am commanded to board her."

"It looks like her," replied the captain, continuing his walk; "but we shall soon know, and then you can do as you like."

Ere many minutes were over the captain pronounced the vessel to be the "Good Hope;" and as they approached somewhat nearer, a signal was made, upon which the cutter brought to, and the boat being lowered--the only one which she possessed--the earl proceeded to the other ship, taking with him our good friend Captain Barecolt, rather (to use a familiar expression) to keep him out of harm's way than for the pleasure of his society.

Although signals had been made and answered, it was evident that the people on board the large vessel viewed the approach of the little boat with some suspicion, believing, as the earl found, that the object was but to detain them till some larger force arrived. There were several persons at the gangway, watching eagerly the approach of the visiters, and not a little puzzled did they appear by the appearance of the earl and his companion, when the boat ran alongside. The earl looked up and smiled, for he recognised not a few of those who stood upon the deck above as personal acquaintances of his own, and faithful servants of the king.

With a slow step, however, and a grave face, he climbed the vessel's side; but when once he stood upon the deck, removed from the eyes and ears of the boatmen, he stretched out a hand to two gentlemen, who stood on either side, saying--

"Welcome, Pollard!--welcome, Berkeley! You have been long looked for."

"By my life, the Earl of Beverley!" cried Colonel Ashburnham, who stood beyond. "Why, oons, man! who would have known you in that black wig?"

"My own hair, I assure you," replied the earl. "Do not libel it, Ashburnham; there is not a hair on my head that is false. But I can stay only a moment, for I am bound for France on the king's service; and I have it in command to tell you on no account to venture into Hull. Sir John Hotham holds with the parliament, and, as a new convert to treason, is likely to make a merit of any violent act. You must give me your news, however. Tell me what succour you bring to the king, and what support you find in Holland."

"To France!" said Ashburnham, thoughtfully. "I wish to heaven you would give me a passage, Beverley; for his majesty can do without me for a time, and I can serve him better there than here. I was but now casting about in my mind which way I should get across as soon as I landed."

"That is easily done," answered the earl. "But you must make haste; I can stay for no packing; for, to say truth, I love not the look of all this fleet of boats, some of them well-nigh as big as our cutter there; and, mark you, there are two large vessels just appearing round the point."

"Well! I am with you in a moment," replied Colonel Ashburnham; "and as for news, I will tell you all as we sail along."

Thus saying, he descended for what he called a moment to the cabin, while the earl remained upon deck, and gathered from the gentlemen who stood round the tidings that they brought from Holland. The colonel, however, was somewhat longer than Lord Beverley could have desired, as he watched with no unreasonable apprehensions the nearer approach of the boats, and the growing distinctness of three large vessels, as they came scudding along with a fair wind from the side of Hull.

"Ashburnham! Ashburnham!" he cried at length, approaching the cabin-stairs, "on my life I can stay no longer. Every minute is full of danger."

"Here I am!" cried Colonel Ashburnham. "I have been only securing my papers;" and the moment after he appeared on the deck, with two large leathern bags in his hand, which were cast into the boat; and, with a brief farewell to those on board, and a recommendation to make all sail, the earl descended the ship's side, followed by his friend. The sailors were ordered to pull back as fast as possible to the ship; and, whispering to his new companion to forget him as Lord Beverley, and merely to know him as a French officer with whom he had casually become acquainted, the earl introduced Barecolt to him as Captain Jersval, an officer from Brittany.

Whatever conversation they might have had, if time and opportunity had served, was cut short by the evident signs of an enemy's approach, displayed both by the boats and the ships which they had seen. Signals that the cutter did not understand, and could not answer, were made by the larger ships; and before the earl and his companion were half-way from the "Good Hope" to his own vessel, the former was in full sail away, and a shot was fired across the bows of the latter, as a notification to lie-to.

The rowers plied their oars with all the vigour and activity which the necessity of the case required, but it was in vain. Ere they had reached the ship's side, the master had quietly hauled down his colours as sign of surrender.

"This is infamous!" cried Ashburnham. "The cowardly vagabond! What's to become of us now?"

"Faith, we must take our chance," replied the earl; "perhaps we may prevail upon him yet to make sail. At all events, I must destroy some letters I have on board; and perchance I may escape unknown, even if I be taken into Hull; for I do not think that Hotham and I ever met more than once."

"I have no such luck," answered Ashburnham, "he knows me as an old enemy--a thing not so easily forgotten as an old friend. But I will not spoil your fortune, Beverley. Remember, we never met before, mon colonel, and if this good gentleman would take my advice," he added, turning to Barecolt, "he would follow the same plan, which is the only way for safety, depend upon it."

"Oh! I will be strangely ignorant," replied Barecolt; "but I thought I heard you talk of papers in those bags, sir. The sea is a more quiet place at the bottom than at the top."

"Right! right!" cried Colonel Ashburnham. "Hand me that grappling-iron, my man," he continued, speaking to one of the sailors.

The man obeyed; and fastening one of the leathern bags he had brought with him to the hook of the iron, Colonel Ashburnham pitched them both into the sea together, just as the boat ran alongside the cutter.