By this time the rebel boat had picked up the crew of her unfortunate consort, and, heavily laden, was slowly making her way back to the nearest man-of-war, still under fire from the guns of the fortress. Meanwhile the troop had remounted, the three steedless dragoons were told to follow without delay, and at the word of command the party set off towards the town. Our road lay between the sea on the left hand and a large expanse of furze-covered common on the right, with hardly a building to break the deadly monotony of the landscape. As far as I could see, there was not a natural piece of ground that was twenty feet above the level of the sea. Before us rose the fortifications of Portsmouth, and as we drew nearer we saw that the damage done by the rebels' shots was considerable, the Gothic tower of the church and several of the houses being very severely handled. The cannonade continued without intermission, several of the shots from the ships ploughing the ground in front and behind us, and, though neither Firestone nor the troopers paid the slightest attention to them, Granville and I were considerably startled, while Captain Chaloner was manifestly ill at ease. Outside the walls we dismounted, the dragoons holding the horses under the shelter of a low bank of shingle, and, led by Chaloner, we crossed a narrow wooden bridge and reached the postern. Here the captain gave the countersign, and the next moment we were in the town of Portsmouth. "Where is Colonel Goring, sirrah?" demanded Chaloner of a man who wore the Governor's livery. "On his way to breakfast, sir." Upon this we directed our footsteps towards the Governor's house, where, with little delay, we were ushered into Goring's presence. Although he professed great pleasure in meeting Colonel Firestone once more, George Goring's delight seemed somewhat too effusive to be genuine. Nevertheless, he gave orders for the paymaster to advance twenty pounds to meet our present needs, and wrote out an order on an armourer in St. Nicholas' Street to equip us with whatever weapons or armour we required. "You must be our guest for some time to come, willing or unwilling," he exclaimed, "for the force of the Parliament hems us in by land and sea." "But I must needs hasten to the King's camp," remonstrated Firestone. "Then your wits must find a way, for a dog can scarce crawl out of the town without being shot at. 'Tis a mystery how you managed to get in." "Then I'll get out by the same means as I came in," replied our friend stoutly. "But tell me, can you hold the town?" For answer Goring held up a large iron key which hung from his waist by a strong chain. "Dost see this?" he asked pompously. "I swear 'fore God that as long as I live the key, which is that of the Town Mount Gate, shall never fall into the hands of the King's enemies." "Amen," replied Firestone piously. "But how goes the garrison? Are the munitions and provisions like to last out?"