At length Sergeant Widdicombe was ordered to ride over to Dartmouth Castle with a party of men to bring back some barrels of powder, and, as it was a chance for me to begin my homeward journey, it was arranged that I should accompany him, for there were greater possibilities of getting a passage on a vessel from Dartmouth than there were from a little fishing village like Salcombe. Mistress Widdicombe, I could see, was sad at the thought of my leaving, and, for the matter of that, so was I, for I had taken a great liking for the kind, motherly Devonshire woman. However, the time for parting arrived, and I braced myself up to say good-bye. Mistress Widdicombe was sitting in the large tiled living-room, and as I entered I saw to my delight something I had never hoped to see again, for on the oaken table lay my sword. Stained with sea water was the Spanish leather scabbard, yet the metal hilt looked as fresh as of yore. Almost reverently I drew the blade, and, marvellous to behold, the steel glittered like a ray of light. "I thought 'twould be a surprise for you, Master Markham," exclaimed the good dame, as I lovingly handled the trusty blade. "Dick brought it home the day before he sailed. Sure, 'twas dull and tarnished with sea water, but a little polishing soon set that right. But now, Master Humphrey, you must needs be off. May God be with ye and take care of ye." And with a hearty sounding kiss that completely took me aback, the motherly Mistress Widdicombe pushed me out of the room, as if unable to control her feelings. Such was indeed the case, for as I passed by the window I saw her sitting by the table with her head buried in her arms. The sergeant, her husband, saw her too. "Poor old Mary," he exclaimed. "'Tis like losing a second son. Faith! I never saw her so much downcast since the news o' Peter's death at Stratton." The soldiers were already waiting in the boat we took our places, and were soon shooting across Salcombe Harbour, and as we reached the little quay at Portlemouth I saw a white kerchief fluttering from the window of the house I had just left. I waved my hand in return; then, with a gulping sensation in my throat, I turned away. A huge lumbering waggon, drawn by six powerful horses, was awaiting us. Telling me to take my place within, Sergeant Widdicombe gave the order, and the convoy set out on the road to Dartmouth. After we had gained the summit of a long steep hill, the sergeant gave his horse to a trooper to lead, and joined us in the waggon. It was slow work, continually up and down, and I asked my companion why they had gone by road instead of by an easier passage by sea. "You'll see anon," he replied gravely, and immediately changed the subject. It was early morn when we started, and about noon we reached the brink of a steep declivity. Below us was a stretch of level road, quite two miles in length, which separated the sea from a lagoon-like expanse of water.