Great Britain -- History -- Stuarts, 1603-1714 -- Fiction
I did not hear that sermon, because I was asleep. It was in tones of
thunder that my father preached to them. He spoke of the old war,
and the brave deeds that their fathers had done under Cromwell;
theirs was the victory. Now, as then, the victory should be theirs,
if they carried the spirit of faithfulness into battle. He warned
them of their sins, sparing none; and, in the end, he concluded
with such a denunciation of the King as made all who heard it, and
had been taught to regard the King's Majesty as sacred, open their
mouths and gape upon each other; for then, for the first time, they
truly understood what it was that they were engaged to do.
While my father waited to see the Duke, Barnaby went about looking
for a lodging. The town is small, and the houses were all filled,
but he presently found a cottage (call it rather a hut) on the
shore beside the Cobb, where, on promise of an extravagant payment,
the fisherman's wife consented to give up her bed to my mother and
myself. Before the bargain was concluded, I had laid myself down
upon it and was sound asleep.
So I slept the whole day; though outside there was such a trampling
on the beach, such a landing of stores and creaking of chains, as
might have awakened the Seven Sleepers. But me nothing could awaken.
In the evening I woke up refreshed. My mother was already awake, but
for weariness could not move out of her chair. The good woman of the
cottage, a kindly soul, brought me rough food of some kind with a
drink of water--the army had drunk up all the milk, eaten all the
cheese, the butter, the eggs, and the pork, beef and mutton, in the
place. And then Humphrey came and asked if I would go with him into
the town to see the soldiers. So I went, and glad I was to see the
sight. But Lord! to think that it was the Sabbath evening! For the
main street of Lyme was full of men, swaggering with long swords at
their sides and some with spurs--feathers in their hats, and pistols
stuck in their belts--all were talking loud, as I am told is the
custom in a camp of soldiers. Outside the George there was a barrel
on a stand, and vendors and drawers ran about with cans, fetching
and carrying the liquor for which the men continually called. Then
at the door of the George there appeared the Duke himself with his
following of gentlemen. All rose and huzzaed while the Duke came
down the steps and turned towards the camp outside the town.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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