"
"I didn' mean to kill any person, Mr. Spettigew!"
"'Tis the sort of accident, Oke, that might happen to anyone in war.
At the worst they'll recommend 'ee to mercy. The mistake was your
tellin' me."
"You won't inform upon me, Mr. Spettigew? Don't say you'll inform
upon me!"
"No, I won't; not if I can help it. But dang it! first of all you
swaller the fuse, and next you fire off your ramrod."
"E-everything must have a beginning, Mr. Spettigew."
Uncle Issy shook his head. "I doubt you'll never make a sojer,
William Oke. You'm too frolicsome wi' the materials. Listen,
there's Pengelly shoutin' for another volley! Right you be,
sergeant! Make ready--prepare--Eh? Hallo!"
Why was it that suddenly, at the height of the hubbub, a panic fell
upon the bandsmen of Troy? Why did the "Rout for the Looes" cease
midway in a bar? What was it that hushed on an instant the shouts,
the rallying cries upon the beach, the bugle-calls and challenges,
the furious uproar of musketry?
Why, within twenty yards of the Cove-head, in the act of charging
upon the serried ranks of Looe's main guard, did Major Hymen face
about and with sword still uplifted stare behind him, and continue to
stare as one petrified?
What meant that strange light, out yonder by the Cove's mouth, in the
rear of his boats?
The light grew and spread until it illuminated every pebble on the
beach.
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