"Heaven be praised!" exclaimed my father, raising his plumed hat, and I knew that a great load had been lifted from his mind--a burden which I felt hardly less deeply than did he. The warm-hearted greeting over, we eagerly asked for tidings concerning the renegade, Captain Chaloner, but on this matter we could not obtain any information, for, although it was known that the rebel captain had had the castle bestowed upon him by the Parliament, he had taken no active steps to secure possession of it. Relying on the loyal support of his tenantry, my father knew that there was little chance of a surprise, yet he in no wise relaxed his vigilance. Every available firearm was carefully examined, barrels of powder bought and stored in the capacious cellars, while piles of shot were placed in readiness by the side of the small pieces of ordnance on the leads of the hall. Vast quantities of imperishable provisions were collected, and an additional well was sunk within the inner courtyard, so that our water supply was assured. Yet our preparations were seemingly in vain. Many months passed, and still no rebel Chaloner appeared to press his claim, while my father, owing to his increasing infirmities, was compelled, much against his will, to remain at home instead of giving his services to His Majesty in the field. Colonel Firestone, however, had taken part in the affairs of Chalgrove Field and Newbury, and from time to time news came from him concerning the progress of the fearful civil war. At length, in the month of May, 1644, the colonel himself arrived at Ashley Castle with the news that he was on his way, by Royal command, to take part in the operations in the west against the rebels under the Earl of Essex, and, at the colonel's suggestion, my father consented to let me go with him, greatly to my satisfaction. Two years had made a great difference in my appearance. Although but very little taller, I had increased in girth, being broad-chested and full-limbed, while few would believe that I was but seventeen years of age. Thanks to clean-living and plenty of exercise in martial and open-air pursuits, I was strong, muscular, and active, yet withal (though I say it) I was of sound judgment, quick to act, and blessed with no small stock of intelligence. It was a long journey by way of Winchester, Salisbury, and Exeter, but with little adventure we crossed the Tamar at a place called Calstock, and reached the Duchy of Cornwall. It was nearly night when we reached this village, a collection of stone-built cottages rising in tiers from the west side of the river, which here describes a magnificent curve between lofty banks of tree-clad hills. Our arrival caused no little stir amongst the villagers, for armed men were comparatively scarce in the neighbourhood, as the troops of either party, who were continually pouring into the Duchy, usually entered by the road betwixt Tavistock and Callington, or else between Plymouth and Saltash.