"Ay," he replied. "But most of Sir Edmund Fortescue's gold plate is hidden between the double bottom!" Just then two of the men who were lining the roadside knelt up and discharged their pieces at some of the rebels who daringly attempted to scale the rocks on our right, and on looking to see the nature of the attack, Widdicombe gave a shout of encouragement. "A rescue! A rescue!" Splashing through the shallows of the lake past which we had come was a whole regiment of horse. Re-forming on the level road, they drew swords, and with loose rein dashed to take our foes in the rear. A few remained behind, and, unslinging their musketoons, opened fire on the boats, causing the boat-keepers to push off in terror. Caught in a trap, the rebel fire slackened, and although a few shots fired from the ships whistled over our heads or rolled harmlessly along the soft ground, nothing could stop the headlong charge of the Royalist horse. Like a whirlwind the cavalry were upon their demoralised foes, and after a few sweeps of glittering blades as the remainder of the rebels, who still showed fight, fell before the resistless onslaught, the combat was over. The timely yet unexpected arrival of Forde's regiment of horse from Dartmouth saved the convoy, and the rebel fleet, under Admiral Batten, had the mortification of seeing thirty-two soldiers and seamen marched off as prisoners of war, while twenty-eight more were killed, either during their attack upon us or in the charge of the horse. "Ay, 'tis the last of Sir Edmund's gold plate," remarked Sergeant Widdicombe as he rejoined me, "though none of the regiment save I knew of it. The first part was sent to His Majesty at the commencement of the war, and all that Sir Edmund has left is the silver, though, methinks, that must also go for the upkeep of Fort Charles." Without further incident the convoy reached Dartmouth Castle. The sergeant handed in his precious charge and received the required barrels of powder; then, having brought me to the notice of a captain who was responsible for the transport service, he bade me farewell. Generous at heart, courageous in body, Sergeant Widdicombe had gained my greatest admiration and esteem, and as he went I felt that another link of friendship--the second that day--had been ruthlessly severed. CHAPTER XI THE "HAPPY ADVENTURE" "WOUNDED, and wants to go home, eh?" was the comment of the Governor of Dartmouth Castle, when Captain Dixon, the transport officer, made known my request. "Beshrew me, 'tis but a continuous stream of men from Dorset and Hamptonshire clamouring for passages, and most of them unscathed. What's thy name?" I told him, and his abrupt manner changed. "A relation of Sir Reginald Markham, of Ashley, perchance?" "His son."