p the people to tight against his Majesty.

I was too young to understand what it all meant, or why his Majesty was
to be fought with; for we were comfortable enough in our little cabin,
what with the sheep and my mother's savings, and my father's fish, and
the little that Tim and I could earn ferrying passengers over the lough.
I was too young, I say, to know what wanted altering, but the sight of
this queer-looking craft set me thinking about it.

"Get out your oar," said his honour suddenly, letting the sheet fly, and
running the boat into the creek.

My heart sank, for I hoped we were going across to where my poor mother
lay.

I got out the oar, and paddled the boat into the creek till we came up
to the stern of the cutter. _Cigale_--that was her name, painted on the
stern-board; but there was nothing to show her port or the flag she
flew.

At the sound of our bows grating on her side one of her crew ran aft and
looked over. He had a strange foreign appearance in his red cap, and
curls, and white teeth, and looked like some startled animal about to
spring on us. But his honour shouted something in French, and the man
scrambled over the side of the cutter with a grin and jumped lightly
into our boat, talking rapidly all the while.

I do not think Mr Gorman understood all he said, for he presently
ordered the man to hold his peace, and stepped ashore, beckoning me to
follow him.

I obeyed after making fast the painter. As we scrambled up the rocks
and reached the road which leads down from Kilgorman to the shore, I was
surprised to see several carts standing laden with sacks or straw, as
though on the way to market. Still more surprised was I when among the
knot of men, half-foreign sailors, half countrymen, who stood about,
sheltering as best they could from the sleet (for the weather was coming
in yet worse from the west), I recognised my father.

If he noticed me at first he made no sign of it, but walked up to
Maurice Gorman with a rough nod.

"Is all landed and stowed?" said his honour, repeating the question of
last night.

"'Tis," said my father shortly, nodding in the direction of the carts.

"How many are in the house?"

"There's two hundred."

"Father," said I, breaking in at this point, in spite of all the Gormans
of Donegal, "you're needed at home. Mother's dying, and sent me for his
honour to speak to her."

My father started, and his sunburnt cheeks paled a little as he looked
at