Slowly the _Emma Farleigh's_ head swung round, and now right ahead I could see a bay of storm-tossed water, with a rocky, though lower, line of cliffs in the background, and a long line of milk-white foam stretching from shore to shore. With a roll that threatened to shake the masts out of her, the _Emma Farleigh_ was soon in the thick of it; broken water poured over the bows and both quarters at the same time, while Dick was heaving at the tiller to try and keep the boat on her course. Crash into the line of white foam she bore; there was a shock that made the vessel quiver from keel to truck; another heave, followed by a slighter yet sickening thud; then, as if sliding down a steep hill, the _Emma Farleigh_ glided into deep water. We had crossed the bar. Now the high land sheltered us, and, gliding over a nearly calm sea, the craft ascended a narrow creek, on the left side of which I could distinguish a castle bristling with guns, while the light played upon the steel caps and morions of the soldiers, who were intently watching our progress. Then a little straggling village came in sight, and at an order the sails fell on deck in a confused heap, the anchor was dropped, and the staunch little craft lay riding to her hempen cable against the swift-running tide. "Where are we?" I asked faintly. "Salcombe," he replied. "An' yon's Fort Charles that still holds out for the King." And even as I looked everything seemed to fade from my view, and I sank senseless on the deck. * * * * * When I opened my eyes I found myself in a wainscoted room, with large beams running across the ceiling. I particularly noticed these beams, possibly because they were the first objects that met my eyes, for I was lying in bed. Spotlessly white were the bedclothes, sweet-smelling flowers were placed about the room, while through the open casement window I could see a stretch of placid water with boats passing up and down, while the hillside in the distance was covered with yellow fields of ripening grain. "Where am I?" I asked myself, and "Why am I here?" And gradually I remembered the incidents that had taken place during the eventful period since I left the camp at Lostwithiel. I tried to raise myself, but a dull pain in my shoulder and an utter feeling of weakness prevented me, and I had perforce to lie still and think. Presently the door was quietly opened and a woman came softly into the room. She was middle-aged, with calm, sweet-natured features, and her linen frills and ruffs were as white as snow. She noticed that I was awake, and coming over to my bedside, she asked me how I felt. I replied that I hardly knew what to say, and then asked where I was, and what was I doing here? "The _Emma Farleigh_ has left," she told me. "Left," I repeated blankly. "When?" "Three weeks agone," she answered. "Have I been here three weeks?" I asked, amazed.