The Quest of the 'Golden Hope': A Seventeenth Century Story of Adventure

itive from

it 'twas justifiable invasion, had appeared in the land. Monmouth had landed in Dorset, and had raised an army. How he

h, I must confess, indirectly; for had it not been for the routing of the rebels at Sedgemoor, the voyage of the Golden Hope would not have been un

reat Christopher in the sea-fight of Sluys; or of Thomas Hammond, who fought at Agincourt: but I would make it plain that the Hammonds of Brockenhurst have no connection with the rebel Colon

inning with the fatal fight at Naseby when he was but a young cornet of horse of barely twenty years of age, he had fought Dutch, Algerines, and, sad to relate,

'twas fortunate that our lands had not been confiscated by the Commonwealth. My father had to rely upon the unkept promises of His Majesty King Charles II as a reward for the sacrifices of

y Tall (a baronet as impecunious as the majority of his class at thi

nce being eighteen months my junior. She was a tall, sprightly girl, with fresh complexion

brother, for I was olive-featured, with straight, dark-brown h

package brought in by the regular carrier. Here I may mention that my sire, in spite of his sixty odd years, was a wonderfully well-preserved man, his dark-brown locks (for he scorned to wear a peruke) being innocent of any trace of grey hairs. Yet I call to mind the occasion, when I was yet a child of tender years, upon which my

ny on which my sister, holding the required purchase, was perched, a troop of

ings, the skirts buttoned back to enable them to sit the better in the saddle; dark-green breeches, long riding-boots of buff leather, and broad-brimmed beaver hats, looped up

shed pace through the narrow street, till they were lo

s how Duke Monmouth's been beaten, and half his army cut to pieces. Those redcoats are Cornbury's Dragoons, and they are

f Dorset, Somerset, and Wiltshire, several of the towns in the western division of Hampshire had sent small contingents to aid Monmouth's cause, and Lymington had been

still littered the ground. Ever and anon a herd of fallow deer would dash across the highway, or a troop of Forest ponies would scamper betwixt the trees, fearing in every human being a possible master. Pigs also roamed

th, where, to right and left, as far as the eye could reach, the heather a

med Constance, pointing down the bridle path that, running between Rin

y hurry," I replied, shad

another of those

t mention it, I perceived two men riding a long distance behind the first ho

f filled with some forebodings, though

aid I. "He is too intent

es. Then my heart gave a sudden bound, for I recognized the man: it was Jeremy Miles, a maste

imed, "'Tis Captain Miles! And see, Cl

val of the fugitive, and, holding the pony's brid

g but breast high, was sufficiently low to enable us to command the track on which

trongly and evidently holding his own, while 'twas unlikely that the tr

under him, throwing its rider headlong to the ground. But before the expiring animal gave a last convulsive

pony forward. "Captain Miles! Take T

ship a crew like me: But they'll have their work cut out to take me. Com

f the road, and hid it in a slight depression behind some furze bushes. T

now only a bare

ich time the ancient right of "Pannage", i.e. turning out pigs to