No one knows who dipped into the cask and flung the first handful
over unhappy Mr. Smellie. No one knows who led the charge down upon
the boats, or gave the cry to stave in the barrels on board. But in
a trice the preventive men were driven overboard and, as they leapt
into the shallow water, were caught and held and drenched in the
noisome mess; while the Riding Officer, plastered ere he could gain
his saddle, ducked his head and galloped up the beach under a
torrential shower of deliquescent pilchards.
The Dragoons did not interfere.
"Shall it be for Looe, Captain?" challenged Major Hymen, waving his
blade and calling on the Gallants to re-form. And as he challenged,
by the happiest of inspirations the band, catching up their
instruments, crashed out with:
"Oh, the De'il's awa'--
The De'il's awa'--
The De'il's awa' wi' th' exciseman!"
CHAPTER VIII.
"COME, MY CORINNA, COME!"
Miss Marty drew aside her window curtain to watch the rising moon.
She could not sleep. Knowing that she would not be able to sleep,
she had not undressed.
She gazed out upon the street, dark now and deserted. No light
signalled to her from the attic window behind which Dr. Hansombody so
often sat late over his books and butterfly cases. He had gone with
the others.
She listened. The house was silent save for the muffled snoring of
Scipio in his cupboard-bedroom under the stairs.
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