She galloped off, and Ned looked after her--"What an odd girl," he thought. "But she is rather interesting." CHAPTER III. A Voyage to Canada in 1812. The Isle of Wight with its white chalk cliffs, and the semi-tropical vegetation of its valleys, is a paradise among islands; though in August, 1812, when Ned landed there and was met by Ferguson, the babel of screams and howled curses he heard made him think of an inferno. Ned had parted with his grandfather at Southampton, where the Surgeon, Dr. Tam, a bluff Scot, looked him over, and told him shortly that he was to go out, forward, on the troop ship "Lightfoot", with eight hundred men, which was all that England could spare to send Canada--and General Brock had said that ten thousand was the smallest number with which he could possibly defend the brave colony. Ned was too delighted that Ferguson was one of the eight hundred to mind anything else, but he looked at his friend startled, as they came into the deep water harbor of Ryde, and heard the sound of women shrieking as if death itself had gripped them. Ferguson's face paled, "God pity them," he said. "Only a few women can go with the regiment to Canada. They have been chosen by lot--my wife by the good providence of God drawing a full number--and you can hear the ones who drew blanks." They went on board H.M.S. "Lightfoot", a fine bit of the "wooden walls of old England." There, all seemed confusion. The Irish womens' screams were heart-rending as they were, as gently as possible, forced back on shore. Ned was glad to follow Ferguson below, first to the cramped "married quarters", where he was introduced to a neat, quiet little woman with a baby--Mrs. Ferguson. Opening off this smaller cabin was a wide space "between decks", where the men's hammocks were hung so close, that a man who left one when they were all slung would have to perform an acrobatic feat to get out, and dress on his knees on the floor under them. As Ferguson showed Ned how to sling his hammock, and told him what he would have to do, rough voices round them called mockingly on the "Swaddler". Ferguson took no notice until big, brown-faced Dr. Tam, in his uniform, appeared beside him. He nodded curtly to Ned, and said gruffly to Ferguson--"Ye'll have to keep your Swaddling talk to yourself this trip, man. We are going to have some trouble with this crowd--they're Papists, too, and we can't have any religious fights. So you see you keep your mouth shut. Our new colonel hasn't any use for preaching soldiers."