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"Who is there?" challenged Mr. Raymond from the chancel where he stood peering out of the small circle of light. "A friend. Pass, friend, and all's well!" answered a squeaky voice. "Bless you, I've sarved in the militia before now." It was Jacky Pascoe, with his coat-collar turned up high about his ears. "What do you want?" Mr. Raymond demanded sharply. "A job." "We can pay for no work here."
"We must do what we can secretly, privately, for the daughter's sake," said Eldrick. "I confess I don't quite see a beginning, but " Just then the private door opened, and Pascoe, a somewhat lackadaisical-mannered man, who always looked half-asleep, and was in reality remarkably wide-awake, lounged in, nodded to Collingwood, and threw a newspaper in front of his partner.
What business can that man have with her? or she with him? Eldrick & Pascoe are not our solicitors! There's some secret and " "Will you answer one or two questions?" said Collingwood quietly. He had never seen Nesta angry before, and he now realized that she had certain possibilities of temper and determination which would be formidable when roused.
Pascoe repeated in a low voice to Mr. Hethcote what Jack had remarked. "I fancied so once or twice myself," he said. "There," he added suddenly, "that is the neigh of a horse. However, there may be horses anywhere. Now we will paddle slowly on. Lay within a boat's length of the shore, Mr. Pascoe, keep the gun trained on the village, and let the men hold their arms in readiness."
Pascoe, whose sagacity and experience proved of infinite service to them, was lamed in his endeavours to walk as fast as the rest of the party, and as he had the misfortune of having one leg shorter than the other he became the general butt and laughing stock of his more robust companions.
His father arrived with Collins's prisoner party, and the boy, John Pascoe, then eleven years old, was sent with his parent for not seldom were wives or children thus sent with the convicts, to ameliorate by such a touch of nature the hard features of a society of adult vice, much as Hogarth, in some of his masterpieces of the human woes or vices of his time, gives, in striking contrast, a foreground of maternal affection, or of children at play in the artless innocence of their looks and ways.
Among these, the leader of all their childish sports, was a little lad named John Pascoe Fawkner, who was destined to be afterwards of note in the history of Port Phillip. Everybody grew dispirited under the heat, the want of fresh water, and the general wretchedness of the situation; and very soon all voices were unanimous in urging the Governor to remove.
Pascoe was firm to his post, and stood still with his musket pointed at the chief's breast during the whole of the time. He was a brave fellow, and he said to his masters, as they passed him to their encampment with the old man, "If the black rascals had fired at either of you, I would have brought the old chief down like a guinea fowl."
Pascoe is either killed or badly wounded. He is lying against me, and gives no answer when I speak to him." "Any one else hurt?" Mr. Hethcote asked in a moment. The men exchanged a few words among themselves. "There are five down in the bottom of the boat, sir, and six or seven of us have been hit more or less." "It's a bad business," Mr. Hethcote said. "I have two killed and three wounded here.
And while beer is more plentiful than news, we hope to keep London going with some wonders of the deep." In the morning, before the correspondents had begun on the next instalment of their serial story, I saw Pascoe sitting up in a bed at another inn, his expenses an investment of the newspaper men. He was unsubdued. He was even exalted.
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