"Never seed him, sir, since he went overboard with the French skipper." "Well, I must leave you in charge, then. The poor fellow’s drowned, I fear." "No, sir," shouted a voice from the beach. "Who’s that?" "Me, sir, Babbage as was." "All sound?" "And fury, as brother Sol used to say. Me and the French skipper fell overboard together, me on top. He drownded hisself, sir, ’cos he wouldn’t let go. When I come up, some o’ they fellers bowled me over like a ninepin, and my senses was fair knocked out o’ me. Next thing I knowed I heard you a-saying I were drownded, sir. Not so, nor never even seasick." "Well, I’m glad you’re safe. Come aboard. We’ll see what damage is done here, and then I’ll go ashore, and we’ll get a doctor from Wickham Ferrers to attend to the poor fellows who are wounded." *CHAPTER XIX* *SOME APPOINTMENTS* Jack had but just reached the road above the cliff when he was somewhat startled to hear the regular clickety-click of a large number of horses trotting toward him. And surely, amid the clatter of their hoofs, there was the clash of steel! He stood at the edge of the road, waiting. In a few moments, round the corner from the direction of Wickham, came two horsemen at a rapid trot, and behind them a troop, whose polished accoutrements gleamed in the light of the rising moon. They rode on rapidly, and Jack had just recognized the uniform of the Dorsetshire yeomanry when the officer at their head caught sight of him, shouted "Halt!" and reined up his horse on its haunches. "Where are they, my lad?" he asked in a tone of subdued excitement. "Who, Cousin Humfrey?" "Eh! Who are you? Why, bless me, ’tis Jack! Where are the ruffians?" "Who, cousin?" "Why, the French! Have they got a footing?" "Most of ’em a wetting, cousin. But we’ve beat the whole crew and got the lugger." "The lugger! Hang the lugger! What about the praams?" "The praams!" Jack was puzzled; then a light dawned on him and he began to laugh. "Come, come, ’tis no joke. Are they beaten back?" "Oh, cousin, no joke! Did you really think it was Boney? Oh, I can’t help it; excuse me, cousin." It came out that Mr. Bastable had been awakened by one of his men, who declared that he heard cannons firing most horribly, and was sure ’twas Boney had come over at last. The squire got up, sent a rider post-haste to Wickham Ferrers for his troop of yeomen, and hurried into his uniform, which he kept always at hand by his bedside.