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Updated: September 19, 2025
Some time elapsed ere Robin returned; and when he did, he perceived that Roupall was in no gentle humour. "Have you warmed the chicken's nest, and taken good and tender care of the gentle bird, according to orders, Robin? Gadzooks!
Roupall and the youth crept stealthily down the cliff by a secret path; then, with the greatest deliberation, Jack struck a light, and prepared to fire the train they had connected with those within the nest, to which we alluded at the commencement of our narrative; while Springall proceeded to perform a similar task a little lower down the Crag, towards the window from whence the preacher, Fleetword, slung the packet which so fortunately arrived at the place of its destination.
At length, when the rashers were dressed and deposited on the table, flanked on either side with a flagon of Canary and of Gascoigne, and the traveller had done ample justice to his cheer, he, with a conciliating smile and bow, wished the widow and Roupall "Good night," and followed Robin up the ladder, observing that his rest must be very brief, as he had occasion to start early next morning, and begging the good widow and her friend to finish the draught of her own excellent wine, to which he feared to render farther justice.
She understood too little of his language to comprehend the nature of his communication to Roupall, and her first impulse was to strike a dagger to his heart; but this, her womanly affection prevented, and she suddenly withdrew. Subsequently, she wrote to Mrs.
"Why, mother," cried one of the company, winking on the rest, "you say it was a horse you heard?" "Well! and I say so still, good Master Roupall." "Sure you do not make friends of horses?" "Better make them of horses than of asses," replied the crone, bitterly; and the laugh was raised against Roupall, who, as with all jesters, could ill brook the jest that was at his own expense.
We trust none of our readers will echo the prayer of Jack Roupall, as we draw towards the conclusion of our story. Vain is the bugle horn, Where trumpets men to manly work invite! That distant summons seems to say, in scorn, We hunters may be hunted hard ere night.
He rapidly approached the Gull's Nest; and soon after she heard the shrill voice of Mother Hays, protesting over and over again, that "Robin had been there not twenty, not fifteen no, not ten minutes past; that she had searched every where, and that he was nowhere to be found; that she had not seen Hugh Dalton for a long, long time; and that, to the best of her belief, he had not touched the shore for many a day; that the men within were good men, honest men one in particular, who would be happy to serve him, as he seemed so earnest to see Robin Jack, true Jack Roupall, a tried, trusty man: could he be of any service, as that ne'er-do-good, Robin, was out of the way ever and always when he was wanted?
"I'll stay then, if you'll wait a minute," replied Roupall; "I defy the devil and all his works; and old Noll himself, the worst of them: so here goes." Another and a louder noise testified the traveller's impatience; but the summons was repeated a third time before the settle was replaced, and the room restored to its usually desolate and inhospitable appearance.
The freshened breeze came so kindly through the thick underwood, as to be scarcely felt by the early wanderers of the upland hill or valley green. Even the rough trooper, Roupall, yielded to the salutary influence of the morn; and as he toiled in his pedlar's guise across the downs, which were mottled with many hundred sheep, and pointed the pathway to King's Ferry, his heart softened within him.
Still the flames towered brightly to the heavens, while each fresh explosion separated their condensed effect, and sent a portion of them higher in the clouds, or hissing over the variegated and sparkling sea, which rolled to the shore in masses of glowing fire. "Read! read!" at length exclaimed Roupall, thrusting the parchment into the hand of the Buccaneer.
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