Chapter 12

"Food for powder; they'll fill a pit as well as better."
_Falstaff_.

The three men who now entered the apartment appeared to be nothing
daunted by the presence into which they were ushered, though clad in the
coarse and weather-beaten vestments of seamen who had been exposed to
recent and severe duty. They silently obeyed the direction of the
soldier's finger, and took their stations in a distant corner of the
room, like men who knew the deference due to rank, at the same time that
the habits of their lives had long accustomed them to encounter the
vicissitudes of the world. With this slight preparation Colonel Howard
began the business of examination.

"I trust ye are all good and loyal subjects," the veteran commenced,
with a considerate respect for innocence, "but the times are such that
even the most worthy characters become liable to suspicion; and,
consequently, if our apprehensions should prove erroneous, you must
overlook the mistake, and attribute it to the awful condition into which
rebellion has plunged this empire. We have much reason to fear that some
project is about to be undertaken on the coast by the enemy, who has
appeared, we know, with a frigate and schooner; and the audacity of the
rebels is only equaled by their shameless and wicked disrespect for the
rights of the sovereign."

While Colonel Howard was uttering his apologetic preamble, the prisoners
fastened their eyes on him with much interest; but when he alluded to
the apprehended attack, the gaze of two of them became more keenly
attentive, and, before he concluded, they exchanged furtive glances of
deep meaning. No reply was made, however, and after a short pause, as if
to allow time for his words to make a proper impression, the veteran
continued:

"We have no evidence, I understand, that you are in the smallest degree
connected with the enemies of this country; but as you have been found
out of the king's highway, or, rather, on a by-path, which I must
confess is frequently used by the people of the neighborhood, but which
is nevertheless nothing but a by-path, it becomes no more than what
self-preservation requires of us, to ask you a few such questions as I
trust will be satisfactorily answered. To use your own nautical phrases,
'From whence came ye, pray?' and 'whither are ye bound?'"

A low, deep voice replied:

"From Sunderland, last, and bound, overland, to Whitehaven."

This simple and direct answer was hardly given, before the attention of
the listeners was called to Alice Dunscombe, who uttered a faint shriek,
and rose from her seat involuntarily, while her eyes seemed to roll
fearfully, and perhaps a little wildly, round the room.