Yonder, on the turf under the knap of Little
Parc, what do I see but a troop of horsemen drawn up, all ghostly to
behold! And yet not ghostly neither; for now and then, plain to
these fleshly ears, one o' the horses would paw the ground or another
jingle his curb-chain on the bit. I tell you, Captain, I crope away
from that sight a good fifty yards 'pon my belly before making a
break for the Cove; and when I got back close to the mainguard I
ducked my head and skirted round to the track here in search of you:
for I wouldn' be one to raise false alarms, not I! But, if you ask
my private opinion, 'tis either Old Boney hisself or the Devil, and
we'm lost to a man."
"Good Lord!" muttered Captain Pond, half to himself. "Horsemen, you
say?"
"Horsemen, Captain--great horsemen as tall as statues. But statues,
as I told myself, at this time o' night! 'Tis out of the question,
an' we may put it aside once for all."
"Horsemen?" repeated Captain Pond. "There's only one explanation,
and Hymen must be warned. But I _do_ think he might have trusted
me!"
He turned for a swift glance seaward, and at the same instant one or
two voices on the ridge above called alarm. Under the western cliff
his eye detected a line of dark shadows stealing towards the shore.
"_Until gaining the entrance of the Cove_"--so ran the Major's
order--"_the boats will preserve single file.
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