The sailors were busy; stowing away the cargo last received, tidying the decks, and coiling down the ropes.  There were but few persons on the quay, for those who had been engaged in loading the cargo had gone off to bed, as soon as the last bale was on board.

In half an hour the sailors began to hoist the sails, the hawsers were thrown off, and, with a gentle wind blowing aft, the ship glided along past the shore, being helped by the tide, which had begun to ebb half an hour before.  The lads were greatly interested in watching the well-wooded slope on the left, with the stately ruins of Tintern Abbey rising above the trees.  Then they passed the round fort, at the water’s edge, on their right, and issued out from Southampton Water into the broad sheet between the island and the mainland.

It was dotted with sails; fishing craft and coasters for the most part, but with some larger ships bound from the east to Southampton, and others that had come in through the Solent.  This was very entertaining to the boys, and they were still more pleased when they saw the fortifications of Portsmouth, with cannon pointing seaward, and with many vessels riding in the strait by the side of the town.

“That fort would give the French or the Dutch a hot reception, were they at any time to think to capture the dockyard and shipping,” Sir Marmaduke said.

“The Dutch have already captured the place, and that without shedding a drop of blood,” Mr. Jervoise remarked.

“’That is true enough,” the knight said, stamping his foot angrily on the deck, “but what has been won so easily may be lost as quickly.  I have seen several changes since I can first remember, and I hope I may live to see another.  However, we need not talk of that now.”

“No, indeed,” Mr. Jervoise agreed.  “It may be, Sir Marmaduke, that it would be better if we had talked and thought less of it, during the last twelve years; better for ourselves, and for these lads.  We might still have been ready to join His Majesty as soon as he landed, but as, till then, we could do nothing, it seems to me now that it would have been wiser had we gone about our business without worrying our heads, to say nothing of risking them, about a matter that may not take place during our lives; as we know, well enough, the King of France uses the Stuarts only for his own convenience, and at heart cares nothing for them or their cause.  It is convenient to have the means of creating trouble here, and of so weakening William; and it may be that, some day or other, it may suit him to send over an army here to fight William, with the aid of the Stuarts’ friends, instead of fighting him in Holland or elsewhere.  But whether he may think fit to do so in one year, or in twenty years hence, who can say?  It is a question solely of military policy.