So their Commander by secret orders had dictated, and all the town
knew of it; also that the landing was to be effected in Talland Cove,
and that, if success waited on their arms, supper would be provided
at the Sloop Inn, Looe. One hundred and fifty fighting men would go
to the assault, in fourteen row-boats, with muffled oars. This
number included the band. The residue of thirty men, making up the
full strength of the corps, had disappeared from Troy some ten days
before, on an errand which will appear hereafter.
But the fair were inconsolable. Almost, for some forty-eight hours--
that is to say, after the news leaked out--our Major was the most
unpopular man in Troy with them who had ever been his warmest
supporters. War was war, no doubt; and women must mourn at home
while men imbrued themselves in the gallant strife. But May-day,
too, was May-day; and the tides served; and, further, there was this
talk about a Millennium, and whatever the Millennium might be (and
nobody but the Mayor and the Vicar, unless it were Dr. Hansombody,
seemed to know), it was certainly not an occasion on which women
ought to be left without their natural protectors. Even the
Ambulance Corps was bound for Looe, in eight additional boats.
There would be scarce a row-boat left in the harbour, or the ladies
might have pulled up to Lerryn on their own account.
The Major suspected these murmurings, yet he kept an unruffled brow:
yes, even though harassed with vexations which these ladies could not
guess--the possible defection of Hansombody, for instance.
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