"Better?" asked the man with a peculiar grunt, as I opened my eyes. "Where am I?" I asked drowsily. "Safe aboard th' _Emma Farleigh_," he remarked, "an' well-nigh half-way over." "Over where?" I exclaimed wonderingly. The man regarded me for a few moments with mouth agape. "You'd best bide quiet a bit," said he. "Maybe you'll still be wandering in t' head." "No, I am not," I maintained. "I was shot at, and my horse carried me over the cliff. But where is this craft bound for?" The man did not answer me, but whistled down a small hatchway. "Here, Dick, on deck wi' ye." A man appeared, his burly head surmounted by a shock of matted red hair, and his ruddy face hidden by a long beard of similar hue. "I be afeard Maäster Jarge be queer in 'is 'ead," whispered the first seaman in a loud aside. "He axed where we was bound for." "France, Maäster Jarge, France," said the ruddy one in a tone that was meant to be soothing. "Us'll drop ye safe in Cherbourg afore night if this breeze 'olds." "I am not Master George, whoever he may be," I exclaimed with considerable heat. "And I don't want to go to France, so why am I being taken there?" Both men looked at me in astonishment. "Lie down an' bide quiet a bit, maäster," repeated the first. "What? Will you not take my word for it?" I shouted, raising myself on my elbow. "I am Humphrey Markham, of Hopton's Regiment, now in camp at Lostwithiel." And as I proceeded briefly with my tale, I saw the look of incredulity on the men's faces give place to expressions of astonishment. "Put your hellum hard up," shouted Dick to the steersman. "And let we get back as fast as us can. 'Twould ha' been a sorry pass if we hadna taken the broad pieces from they afore us started." "You'll not be from Carnwall, young maäster?" asked one of the fishermen. "No, from Hamptonshire," I replied. "But I know several people in Cornwall, and my greatest friend is Master Ralph, or, rather, Sir Ralph Granville, of Tregetty." "I knows Tregetty well," said Dick. "Two brothers o' we were on th' estate. But why Sir Ralph? I thought as 'twas Sir Bevil." "Sir Bevil has fallen in the fight with twenty of his followers," I replied. "Fifty curses o' St. Winnow on the rebels," exclaimed the Cornishman, shaking his fist in the direction of the invisible English coast. "But, ne'er mind, young maäster, a frien' o' Sir Ralph be a friend o' we; us'll put ye ashore safe an' sound." "Breeze be freshenin', Dick," shouted the man at the tiller. "'Twill be as much as us can do to make Plymouth." "Keep her at it as close as she'll lie," replied Dick, giving a swift glance to windward. "One port's as good as another to we, for a bit." I felt hungry and thirsty, and one of the men brought me a kind of pasty and a cup of cider, and as I ate they told me, in a rich Cornish burr, of the circumstances that led to my being rescued from the sea.