to
see the last of 'em."

So out into the night they three went together. But when they had the
rocket fixed, Captain John was taken that poorly he had to come back and
sit in the chair, and rub his thighs and his stomach. And when, sitting
there, he heard the rocket go up, _whoosh!_ he had to rub them the
harder.

"It went off capital!" called the preacher, popping his head in at the
door. "Can't us try another?" And now Captain John had to rub his eyes
before turning to him. "Take the lot," he said, and pushed the whole
bundle into the preacher's hands. "Aw, if King George had a few more
friends like you! Take the lot of 'em, loyal man!" He fairly thrust
him out to door, and had to lean a hand there before he could follow,
feeling weak all over to think of Collector Wearne and his men, and what
their faces must be like, down in the Revenue cutter; but he had no time
to taste the fun of it properly, for just then he heard Bessie Bussow's
voice outside asking questions all of a screech. The first rocket had
fetched her over hot-foot and agog, and the captain had to run out and
stop her tongue, and send her home with Ann Geen. But they didn't go
till the preacher had touched off every single rocket, stepping back
as they went _whoosh! whoosh!_ and waving his hat and crying, "God save
the King!" "God save the King!" cried Captain John after him, and
Bessie stood wondering if the end of the world had come, or the master
had gone clean out of his wits.

The captain used to try and explain it afterwards when he told the
story. "You've seen a woman in hysterics," he'd say, "and you know how
a man feels when he wants to drop work and go on the drink for a week.
Well, 'twasn' exactly one or t'other with me, but a little like both.
I'm a level-headed tradesman, and known for such, but if ever that chap
walks into my house again, I'll be wise, and go straight out by the back
door and put myself under restraint."

After the women had gone, he took the fellow back to the kitchen, and
sat putting questions to him in a reverent sort of voice, and eyeing him
as awesome as Billy Bennett when he hooked the mermaid, until the poor
creature talked himself sleepy, and asked to be shown to his room.
Captain Carter saw him to bed, came downstairs to the parlour again, and
spread himself on the sofa for forty winks; for between the boat dodging
out to sea and the pack-horses waiting ready up at Trenowl's farm above
the hill,