efore of a gentleman's death, that the best way to settle accounts
is to fling him overboard; but on dry land your plaguy Dead Body is a
sore Stumbling Block, and Impediment, always turning up when it is not
Wanted, and bringing other Gentlemen into all kinds of trouble.
Crowner's Quest was held on the "Beau;" and I only wonder that they did
not bring it in murder against Me. The jury sat a long time without
making up their minds, till the Parish constable ordered them in a bowl
of Flip, upon which they proceeded to bring in a verdict of Wilful
Murder against some person or persons unknown. I can scarcely, to this
day, bring myself to suspect my pretty maid, that should have married
the Pewterer, of such a bold Act, and the rather believe that it was the
girl Grip and her Mistress that worked off the Spy and Traitor between
them. Not that Mother Drum would have needed any assistance in the mere
doing of the thing. She was a Mutton-fisted woman, and as strong in the
forearm as a Bridewell correctioner.

Oh, the dreary journey we made that morning to Aylesbury! The Men Blacks
were tied back to back, and thrown into such carts as could be pressed
into the service from the farmsteads on the skirts of the Chase. One of
the constables must needs offer, the Scoundrel, to take horse and go
borrow a cartload of fetters from the gaoler at Reading; but he was
overruled, and Ropes were thought strong enough to confine us. There was
no chance, alas! of any rescue; for those of our comrades who had been
fortunate enough through absence to avoid capture, had doubtless by this
time scent of the Soldiers, and there was no kicking against those
bright Firelocks and Bayonets. Yet had there been another escape. Cicely
Grip and Mother Drum were taken, but the pretty maid I loved so for her
kindness to me when I was Forlorn had shown a clean pair of heels, and
was nowhere to be found. Good luck to her, I thought. Perchance she has
met with Captain Night, and they are Safe and Sound by this time, and
off to Foreign Parts. For in all this I declare I saw nothing Wrong, and
held, in my baby logic, that we Blacks had all been very harshly
entreated by the Constables and Redcoats, and that it was a shame to use
us so. Mother Drum, the Wench, and my poor wounded Self, were put into
one cart together, and through Humanity, a Sergeant (for the Constables
would not have done it) bade his men litter down some straw for us to
lie upon. There was a ragge