“It is Smallbones, sir,” repeated Jemmy Ducks, “and I’ll vouch for him as a lad that’s good and true.”

Sir Barclay no longer hesitated:  “Give way, my lads, and pick him up.”

In a few minutes, Smallbones was hauled in over the gunnel, and was seated on the stern-sheets opposite to Sir Robert.

“It’s a great deal colder out of the water than in, that’s sartain,” observed Smallbones, shivering.

“Give way, my lads, we’ve no time to stay,” cried Sir Robert.

“Take this, Smallbones,” said Jemmy.

“Why, so it is, Jemmy Ducks!” replied Smallbones, with astonishment—­“why, how did you come here?”

“Sarcumstances,” replied Jemmy; “how did you come there?”

“Sarcumstances too, Jemmy,” replied Smallbones.

“Keep silence,” said Sir Robert, and nothing more was said until the lugger dashed into the cave.

The cargo was landed, and Smallbones who was very cold was not sorry to assist.  He carried up his load with the rest, and as usual the women came half-way down to receive it.

“Why, who have we here?” said one of the women to whom Smallbones was delivering his load, “why, it’s Smallbones.”

“Yes,” replied Smallbones, it is me; “but how came you here, Nancy?”

“That’s tellings, but how came you, my lad?” replied Nancy.

“I came by water anyhow.”

“Well, you are one of us now, you know there’s no going back.”

“I’m sure I don’t want to go back, Nancy; but what is to be done? nothing unchristianlike I hope.”

“We’re all good Christians here, Smallbones; we don’t bow down to idols and pay duty to them as other people do.”

“Do you fear God, and honour the king?”

“We do; the first as much as the other people, and as for the king, we love him and serve him faithfully.”

“Well, then I suppose that’s all right,” replied Smallbones; “but where do you live?”

“Come with me, take your load up, and I will show you, for the sooner you are there the better; the boat will be off again in half-an-hour, if I mistake not.”

“Off, where?”

“To France, with a message to the king.”

“Why, the king’s in Holland! we left him there when we sailed.”

“Pooh! nonsense! come along.”

When Sir Robert arrived at the cave, he found an old friend anxiously awaiting his arrival; it was Graham, who had been despatched by the Jacobites to the court of St Germains, with intelligence of great importance, which was the death of the young Duke of Gloucester, the only surviving son of King William.  He had, it was said, died of a malignant fever; but if the reader will call to mind the address of one of the Jesuits on the meeting at Cherbourg, he may have some surmises as to the cause of the duke’s decease.  As this event rendered the succession uncertain, the hopes of the Jacobites were raised to the highest