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Updated: June 8, 2025
It seemed to me that the noise moved away to our right instead of towards Lostwithiel. A quick suspicion took me then: I scaled the right-hand side of the quarry at a run, burst through the fringe of pines, and came out suddenly upon a knoll in full view of the down.
I. Robert Hood is sued for three acres of pasture land in Throckley, Northumberland. Orig. 7th Ed. II. Robert Hood is surety for a burgess returned for Lostwithiel, Cornwall. 9th Ed. II. Robert Hood is a citizen of Wakefield, Yorkshire, whom Mr. 10th Ed. III. A Robert Hood, of Howden, York, is mentioned in the Calendarium Rot. Patent. Adding the Robin Hood of the 17th Ed.
The battery above us kept silence day after day, save twice when the Royalists made a brief show of forcing the pass; but at intervals each day we would hear a brisk play of artillery a little higher up the stream, where they had planted a fort on the high ground by St. Nectan's Chapel, to pound at Lostwithiel in the valley.
This town of Lostwithiel retains, however, several advantages which support its figure as, first, that it is one of the Coinage Towns, as I call them; or Stannary Towns, as others call them; the common gaol for the whole Stannary is here, as are also the County Courts for the whole county of Cornwall. There is a mock cavalcade kept up at this town, which is very remarkable.
"He must," "he must," she kept saying: and I thought sure she had taken leave of her wits. It happened as I warned her. The second cart-track, mounting from the valley bottom, led us up to the high road on the ridge; and there, peering out cautiously, I spied the backs of a rebel company posted across it, a bare two hundred yards away towards Lostwithiel.
Three miles above us lies Lostwithiel, a neat borough, by the bridge of which the tidal water ceases. But the traffic between these two towns passes behind us and out of sight, by the high-road which after climbing out of Lostwithiel runs along a narrow neck of land dividing our valley from Tywardreath Bay.
But the mischief was, we were drifting up the main channel which ended in the Lostwithiel marshes and must pretty certainly lead us into the enemy's hands, unless before striking the moors below the town we could by some means push across to the farther bank. We leaned over, dipped our arms in the water, and with the least possible noise began to paddle.
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