the moment. Some were for rushing to the stables, mounting every horse

that could be found, and scouring the country, sword in hand, for that

infernal murderer. Some, having just descried the flash of beacon from

the headland, and heard the alarm-guns from shore and sea, were for

hurrying to their regiments, or ships, or homes and families (according

to the head-quarters of their life), while others put their coats on

to ride for all the doctors in the county, who should fetch back

the Admiral to this world, that he might tell everybody what to do.

Scudamore stood with his urgent despatches in the large well-candled

hall, and vainly desired to deliver them. "Send for the Marquis,"

suggested some one.

Lord Southdown came, without being sent for. "I shall take this duty

upon myself," he said, "as Lord-Lieutenant of the county. Captain

Stubbard, as commander of the nearest post, will come with me and read

these orders. Gentlemen, see that your horses are ready, and have all

of the Admiral's saddled. Captain Scudamore, you have discharged your

trust, and doubtless ridden far and hard. My orders to you are a bottle

of wine and a sirloin of roast beef at once."

For the sailor was now in very low condition, weary, and worried, and in

want of food. Riding express, and changing horses twice, not once had he

recruited the inner man, who was therefore quite unfit to wrestle with

the power of sudden grief. When he heard of the Admiral's death, he

staggered as if a horse had stumbled under him, and his legs being stiff

from hard sticking to saddle, had as much as they could do to hold him

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