when i came on deck the next morning we were driving down-channel before a smart northwest wind. the sky was blue overhead; the low rollers were just capped with foam; the air was clean and tangy; the brownish, salt-stained canvas shone in the sunlight; the cordage hummed and droned.

murray stood by the weather rail with the negro, tom, at his elbow. as i emerged from the companionway tom leaned forward and whispered something to his master. murray walked straight across the deck to my side, his eyes fastened upon my face.

"how now, master juggins," he said heartily, his hand outstretched, "and did you leave your good uncle—or is it cousin?—well!"

i perceived that he took me for the lout i was dressed to represent, and strove to play up to the disguise.

"well enough, sir," i answered sullenly, shifting clownishly from foot to foot.

"'tis good!" he exclaimed. "faith i am vastly relieved. i have a warm regard for honest robert juggins. he has spoken of me, perhaps?"

the question, designed to catch my simple mentality unawares, gave me considerable amusement.

"oh, aye," i muttered.

"we have been rivals in our ventures, as you doubtless know," continued murray, taking a pinch of snuff in a manner which the duc d'orleans might have envied.

"but he doesn't take it seriously, sir," i assured him gravely.

"eh! what's that?"

"he laughs about it, sir."

and i goggled at him stupidly. after a moment's inspection of my countenance he seemed constrained to accept the remark as witless innocence, for a grim light of humor appeared in his eyes.

"laughs, does he! zooks, i might have known it. he is a merry soul, robert juggins, and i should like to see him footing a morris to a right merry tune. mayhap we shall see it some day. who knows?"

"who knows, sir?" i repeated vacantly.

"and you are to cast your fortunes in america, lad!" he resumed.

"oh, aye, sir."

"what i might have expected from a fine, upstanding young fellow," he applauded me. "we need many of your like. you may count upon my good offices in new york. faith, i shall be glad to do a favor if i can, for robert juggins' nephew—or did you say cousin?"

"i am——"

but he saved me from the lie.

"ah, here is come one of our fellow passengers," he interrupted.

i turned to see de veulle approaching us.

"'tis a french gentleman," pursued murray, bent upon winning my confidence with his easy manners and glib tongue, "on his way to canada. he can tell you rare tales of the wilderness and the savages. ha, chevalier, meet a young countryman of mine. such is the timber we use to exploit the new plantations. master juggins—the chevalier de veulle."

all unsuspecting, de veulle made me a slight bow, a look of indifferent disdain in his face at sight of my plebeian figure. the disguise was good, and i hoped i might cozen him for a time at least. but no man forgets another who has toyed with his life, and his indifference was dissipated the instant his eye met mine.

"juggins?" he exclaimed in bewilderment. "you said juggins, monsieur murray?"

"sure, 'tis so," returned murray urbanely. "not our friend, the doughty trader, you understand, but——"

"parbleu!" swore de veulle. "this man is no more named juggins than i am!"

in his excitement his english, which was broken enough at best, became almost incoherent. murray favored me with a brief glance of suspicion.

"who then?" he demanded.

"ormerod! 'tis harry ormerod, the jacobite refugee!"

murray snapped his fingers to tom, the negro, who had been a silent witness to our conversation. in an instant he stood beside us, his baleful yellow eyes glaring at me.

"is this the man who came with master juggins to the hearing before the lords of trade?" snapped murray.

"he de man, massa," tom answered in a husky voice that had a snarl in it.

"you are sure!"

"yes, massa."

"tom doesn't make mistakes," remarked murray with a gesture of dismissal to the negro. "may i ask who you are, sir?" he addressed me.

"i suppose you may," i replied coolly; and with a sense of relief i ripped the bobbed scratch-wig off my head and tossed it into the sea. "does that help you at all?" i inquired of de veulle.

he stared back at me, his face all drawn with hatred.

"i knew you with it on," he said savagely. "it became you. why should a deserter wear the clothes of a gentleman?"

i laughed at him, but murray intervened quickly.

"what do you mean?" he demanded.

de veulle made a gesture of disgust in my direction.

"this person, who was in the immediate entourage of the pretender, abandoned his leader not long ago and fled to england to seek a pardon, repudiated and detested by all honorable men in paris. but in england his protestations of loyalty were refused, for they naturally doubted the sincerity of one who wearied so soon of an unfortunate cause."

"is this true?" murray asked me.

"within reason," i said.

murray stared from one to the other of us. plainly he was whimsically amused by our altercation.

"stap me, but i rejoice to see that we may look forward to an entertaining voyage!" he exclaimed. "i had feared 'twould be most tedious. are you seeking satisfaction from the gentleman, chevalier?"

"i shall fight him when i choose, on ground of my own choosing," replied de veulle curtly.

"and by no means with small-swords," i jeered.

he gave me a black look.

"you will pray me to kill you if you ever fall into my power, ormerod. i can wait until then."

"as you please."

he turned and left us. murray took snuff very deliberately, first offering the box to me—which he had not done before—and scrutinized me politely from head to foot.

"i fear i have been patronizing in my conduct, sir," he observed. "pray accept my apologies."

"you are most kind," i said ironically.

"'twas a perfect disguise," he went on. "and your manner, if i may say so, was well conceived."

"i thank you."

"in short, i find you an opponent of totally different importance. you are an opponent?" he shot at me.

"sure, sir, that is for you to say," i made answer. "so far as i know at this time we merely happen to be passengers together on this craft."

he laughed.

"i might have known it!" he exclaimed. "'twas not like juggins to send a bumpkin to burnet. he hath been an enemy i might not scorn at any moment. and for a mere merchant he hath extraordinary spirit."

this was said with an air of condescension which irked me.

"you, sir," i remarked, "are no less a merchant. why pretend to gentrice?"

a remarkable change came over the man. he ceased from tapping on his snuff-box. a wave of color suffused his face and neck; his eyes flashed. he straightened his back and shoulders and frowned upon me.

"pretend—gentrice!" he rasped. "sir, you are insulting. i have the blood of kings in my veins. i am of the murrays of cobbielaw. i quarter my arms with the keiths, the humes, the morays—with every great family of scotland. my grandfather four times removed was james v.

"i pretend to gentrice! i tell you there are few families in europe can boast my lineage."

"it hath a jacobite color to it," i could not resist observing.

he cooled rapidly at this, and the broad scots accent which had crept into his speech soon disappeared.

"that is easily said—and easier disproved," he returned. "for myself, there is no more loyal adherent of king george, as you are likely to learn, sir, if you plan to backslide in the pretender's interest when you reach new york. we provincials may be distant many thousands of miles from court, but we are none the less careful in our devotion to the sovereign."

"so i have been told," i said dryly. "as for master juggins, his grandfather was steward to my father, and still i think him as much entitled to respect as any man, noble or common, who can prattle of sixteen quarterings. family, sir, is not the more creditable for being talked about."

murray laughed harshly.

"you have a sour tongue, young sir. i say to you plainly that if 'twere in my interest i might make things uncomfortable for you here. we may yet sight a king's ship."

it was my turn to laugh.

"when that time comes, we will attend to it. i thank you for warning me in advance."

he pocketed his snuff-box, swung around on his heel and strode off across the deck; but he had not reached the mainmast when he seemed to change his intent and returned to my side.

"master ormerod," he said, "i was in error to speak as i did of your friend. i crave your pardon."

he spoke so simply and unaffectedly as to take my breath away. there was naught for me to do but accept the apology in the spirit apparently intended.

"sure, sir," i replied, "let us forget what hath passed."

"willingly," he agreed. "there is enough contention, without belittling the most sacred thing in the world by needless bickering."

"and what is the most sacred thing in the world?" i asked.

"good blood," he said quite straightforwardly. "but i must go below now. i have some papers to attend to. and i shall also attempt to induce the chevalier de veulle to preserve the amenities of life whilst we are restricted to such confined quarters."

"he shall not have to labor against my hostility," i promised as he departed.

despite myself, i was taken with the man. his queer vanity, his unmistakable breeding, his ready wit, the assurance of power and self-sufficiency which radiated from him and explained, as i thought, his readiness to admit himself in the wrong, all these joined to inspire respect for his parts, if not admiration for his character.

during the rest of that day i made myself at home about the ship, talking with the seamen and their officers and watching vainly for the lady of the green cloak who had awakened me with her song. but she kept her cabin until the second afternoon, when we were sailing easily with a fair wind abeam. i found her then as i returned from a walk forward, standing with her hand on the poop-railing to steady her.

"i fear you are a poor sailor," i called to her.

she inclined her head for answer.

"well, i have met your father," i said, coming to her side, "and i make no doubt he would present me were he here, so——"

"sir," she said stiffly, "i have no desire for your company."

i stared at her, mouth agape.

"if i have offended——" i began.

"i may as well tell you," she interrupted me again, "that i have no personal liking or disliking for anything you have said or done in my presence. but i have heard that about you which will make me have no inclination for your company."

"and i shall ask you to tell me what that is," i retorted with mounting indignation. "it is not fair that you should accept the slurs of an enemy behind my back."

she hesitated.

"that may be so," she admitted, "but you will be willing to answer me two questions?"

"surely."

"you are captain ormerod, formerly chamberlain to king james ii?"

"yes."

"and you not long ago abandoned the king's service and fruitlessly sought a pardon in london?"

"yes."

i can not very well describe the scorn of voice and manner with which she addressed me.

"that is enough for me," she said. "you are a traitor, a deserter, proven out of your own mouth."

"but——"

"no, sir; there is naught you can say would interest me. i should despise you none the less had you deserted in the same circumstances to my own side. it makes it no less culpable that you deserted from my side because our fortunes were at low ebb. and indeed i think it will be a sure sign there is a god in heaven that such a black traitor as you will be, should be scorned even by the wicked men of the usurper in london."

"but you shall hear me," i protested. "this is absurd, what you say. you have taken two bare statements of fact and twisted into them the implications skilfully made by a personal enemy. you——"

"last night, sir," she said cuttingly, withdrawing the folds of her cloak so that they might not touch me, "you played upon my sympathies with your tale of exile and a brother buried in the clan donald country, and i was all for sympathy with you and sorrow for your sorrow. you as much as told me you were one of the good people. you let me deceive myself, after you had deceived me first. oh, you will have acted unspeakably!"

"what i told you was true!"

"it could never have been."

"i swear it was. i was out in the '19; i fled to scotland with my brother; he died and was buried there; i escaped with the remnants of the expedition; i am an exile at this moment."

"an exile! phaugh! think on the honest men can truly say that in their misfortune this day! and you—i could weep for the shame that your dead brother and the mother that bore you will be feeling as they look down upon you!"

with that she was gone, and i was left cursing—cursing de veulle, whose treacherous tongue had planted the distorted shreds of truth in her mind; cursing murray, who must have stood by and listened to it all, smugly amused; cursing my cousin who had put me in such a plight, after winning my inheritance; cursing the men and women at st. germain who repaid years of sacrifice and ungrudging loyalty with such canards; cursing juggins for having embarked me upon this ship with the girl; cursing myself for getting into such a false position; cursing the girl——

but no. common sense came to my rescue then. there was something unaccountably fine about her attitude, something i should never have thought to uncover in murray's daughter, however beautiful and attractive she might be. there was devotion for you, faithfulness to a lost cause, the single-minded truthfulness which only a good woman can possess.

heir indignation was the index to her personality. by it i might know that she was really worth while, that to win her respect must be an achievement for any man.

and that brought a new thought into my mind. could the two men she was with have her respect? could she respect her father, murray? aye, perhaps; for if he labored secretly in the jacobite interest she, with her flaming, misdirected loyalty to the stuarts, would excuse his deceptions and crimes, if only they brought back her king to the throne.

i was familiar with the way men and women of her persuasion ignored the well-being of their country, apart from their king. they could see no difference between the two. what did it matter if france profited by the issue, so long as james replaced george?

this brought me to de veulle. surely she could not respect him! if she knew what i knew— but manifestly she, who had never been out of scotland before, could know nothing of his career in paris.

and he had a way with him, there could be no denial of that. he was a handsome devil, with the flair which appeals to all women, good and bad. aye, he might win her regard for a time; but i was prepared to stake all that she would unmask him in the end.

the twilight faded rapidly, and i found myself with no appetite for the crowded main cabin, where de veulle and murray played piquet, or my stuffy berth. i strolled the deck, immersed in thought. there was so much to think about. the episode with this girl, whose name even i did not know, had brought into vivid opposition the events of the past and the uncertain future which lay before me.

i conned over what juggins had told me, memorized anew many of the messages he had entrusted to me, speculated upon the possible turn of affairs. i planned in some vague way to win a fortune in that unknown new world ahead of me, and with the proceeds in one hand and a pardon in the other, return and reclaim foxcroft from those abominable hampshire cousins.

with chin cupped in hand i leaned upon the starboard rail in the black well of shadow which was formed by the overhang of the forecastle, and the towering piles of canvas that clothed the foremast. somewhere beyond the wastes of watery darkness that veiled my eyes lay england, the home which had disowned me. i——

without any warning a huge arm was twisted around my shoulders and a hand so huge that my teeth could make no impression in it was clamped down over my mouth. another arm encircled my waist. my arms were pinned to my sides. my legs kicked feebly at a muscular body which pressed me against the bulwark. fighting back with all my strength, i was nevertheless lifted gradually from the deck and shoved slowly across the flat level of the fife-rail.

do what i might, i could not resist the pressure of those tremendous arms which seemed to have a reach and a power twice those of my own. i gasped for breath as they squeezed my lungs—and in gasping i sensed a queer taint in the air, a musky odor which i did not at once associate with the seamen or any one else on board the ship.

it was no use. i could not resist. the snakelike arms mastered me. one shifted swiftly to a grip on my legs. i was whirled into the air and dropped clear of the railing—falling, falling, until the cold waters engulfed me.