“Poke about with your swords,” commanded the husky voice. “What’s in those barrels yonder?” “Water, sergeant,” answers a trooper, rolling out a couple. “Nothing behind them?” “No; they’re right against the side.” “Drop ’em then. Plague on this business! ’Tis my notion they’re a mile a-way, and Cap’n Stubbs no better than a fool to send us back here. He’s grudging promotion, that’s what he is! Hurry, there—hurry!” Ten minutes later, the searchers were gone; and we in our casks drawing long breaths of thankfulness and strong odors. And so we crouch’d till, about midnight, Captain Billy brought us down a supper of ship’s biscuit: which we crept forth to eat, being sorely cramp’d. He could not hear our thanks: but guess’d them. “Now say not a word! To-morrow we sail for Plymouth Sound: thence for Brittany. Hist! We be all King’s men aboard the _Godsend_, tho’ hearing nought I says little. Yet I have my reasoning heresies, holding the Lord’s Anointed to be an anointed rogue, but nevertheless to be serv’d: just as aboard the _Godsend_ I be Cap’n Billy an’ you plain Jack, be your virtues what they may. An’ the conclusion is—damn all mutineers an’ rebels! Tho’, to be sure, the words be a bit lusty for a young gentlewoman’s ears.” We went back to our casks with lighter hearts. Howbeit ’twas near five in the morning, I dare say, before my narrow bedchamber allow’d me to drop asleep. I woke to spy through my bunghole the faint light of day struggling down the hatches. Above, I heard a clanking noise, and the voices of the men hiccoughing a dismal chant. They were lifting anchor. I crawl’d forth and woke Delia, who was yet sleeping: and together we ate the breakfast that lay ready set for us on the head of a barrel. Presently the sailors broke off their song, and we heard their feet shuffling to and fro on deck. “Sure,” cried Delia, “we are moving!” And surely we were, as could be told by the alter’d sound of the water beneath us, and the many creakings that the _Godsend_ began to keep. Once more I tasted freedom again, and the joy of living, and could have sung for the mirth that lifted my heart. “Let us but gain open sea,” said I, “and I’ll have tit-for-tat with these rebels!” But alas! before we had left Avon mouth twenty minutes, ’twas another tale. For I lay on my side in that dark hold and long’d to die: and Delia sat up beside me, her hands in her lap, and her great eyes fix’d most dolefully. And when Captain Billy came down with news that we were safe and free to go on deck, we turn’d our faces from him, and said we thank’d him kindly, but had no longer any wish that way—too wretched, even, to remember his deafness. Let me avoid, then, some miserable hours, and come to the evening, when, faint with fasting and nausea, we struggled up to the deck for air, and look’d about us.