renchman's, with a cob-built ruin beside it, and perhaps, if you
come upon it in the morning sunlight, ten or a dozen herons aligned
like statues on the dismantled walls.

Now, why they call it Frenchman's Creek no one is supposed to know,
but this story will explain. And the story I heard on the spot from
an old verderer, who had it from his grandfather, who bore no
unimportant part in it--as will be seen. Maybe you will find it out
of keeping with its scenery. In my own words you certainly would:
and so I propose to relate it just as the verderer told it to me.

I.

First of all you'll let me say that a bad temper is an affliction,
whoever owns it, and shortening to life. I don't know what your
opinion may be: but my grandfather was parish constable in these
parts for forty-seven years, and you'll find it on his headstone in
Manaccan churchyard that he never had a cross word for man, woman, or
child. He took no credit for it: it ran in the family, and to this
day we're all terribly mild to handle.

Well, if ever a man was born bad in his temper, 'twas Captain Bligh,
that came from St. Tudy parish, and got himself known to all the
world over that dismal business aboard the _Bounty_. Yes, Sir,
that's the man--"Breadfruit Bligh," as they called him. They made an
Admiral of him in the end, but they never cured his cussedness: and
my grandfather, that followed his history (and good reason for why)
from the day he first set foot in this parish, used to rub his hands
over every fresh item of news. "Darn it!" he'd say, "here's that old
Turk broke loose again. Lord, if he ain't a warrior!" Seemed as if
he took a delight in the man, and kept a sort of tenderness for him
till the day of his death.

Bless you, though folks have forgotten it, that little affair of the
_Bounty_ was only the beginning of Bligh. He was a left'nant when it
happened, and the King promoted him post-captain straight away.
Later on, no doubt because of his experiences in mutinies, he was
sent down to handle the big one at the Nore. "Now, then, you
dogs!"--that's how he began with the men's delegates--"His Majesty
will be graciously pleased to hear your grievances: and afterwards
I'll be graciously pleased to hang the lot of you and rope-end every
fifth man in the Fleet. That's plain sailing, I hope!" says he.
The delegates made a rush at him, triced him up hand and foot, and in
two two's would have heaved him to the fishes with an eig