ngs to the winds and accepted
the post of orderly officer to the Lieutenant-Governor which was offered
him by Carteret. He chose neither line but adopted what he called "a
middle-course," in other words left himself to be drifted on the current
of events. He saw that the position of the cavaliers was hopeless if
they had to maintain a long and unaided contest against the conquerors
of Ireland and Scotland. He had no great trust in the willingness of the
French, none whatever in their good faith. His ardent desire to prevent
effusion of Jersey blood was a preoccupation that hid almost all other
considerations from his mind. And he had trust in the discipline and
morale of the Parliamentary troops, and in the presence among them of
Prynne and Lempriere, which saved him from much anxiety as to the
welfare of the ladies at King's Cliff.

As he sate, that night, by the camp-fire of a picquet of his company he
heard two militiamen conversing, and recognised Benoist and Le Gros as
the speakers.

"To what purpose are we here, _mon voisin_?" asked the former. "What
good would the sacrifice of ourselves do the King now, when perhaps he
has already undergone his father's fate and is no longer in this world?"

"If the King be dead, indeed," answered Le Gros, "I for one will not
fire a single cartridge. All the same, he was a debonair prince, and
once gave me a groat to drink his health when he saw me holding his
horse."

"That he is a prisoner is certain," croaked Benoist. "And if prisoner to
Maitre Cromouailles he can only make his escape through one door. And
that door does not lead to Jersey, though it may to Paradise."

Here the men got up and moved off in search of cider, which was being
served out by the Governor's orders at a neigbouring farm-house. But
their conversation mingled with the young Captain's thoughts as,
wearied with the marchings and countermarchings of the day, he dozed in
the still night air, lulled by the fire at his feet. Deep slumber must
have followed, for he started from dreams of tumult to feel the
vibration of air caused by a round-shot passing over his head. The wind
had fallen to an almost complete calm: a light breeze of autumn morning
breathed keen over the barren moor; bugles were sounding, drums
rattling, men shouting as they collected their accoutrements and fell in
under arms.

Four-and-twenty guns from the nearest ships were playing upon them,
answered briskly by the little militia batt