men with green scarves on their arms were being drilled by an officer.
Horses were picketed in a long line up the main street; they were
mostly very poor cart-stock, ill-provided, as I learned afterwards,
with harness. Men were bringing hay to them from whatever haystack was
nearest. From time to time, there came a loud booming of guns, above
the ringing of the church bells. Three ships in the bay, one of them
La Reina, were firing salutes as they hoisted their colours. It was all
like a very noisy fair or coronation day. It had little appearance of an
armed invasion. We found the Duke busy with Mr. Jermyn enlisting men in
a field above the town.

"That's not Mr. Jermyn. That's Lord Grey," Mr. Blick said, on hearing me
exclaim. "Mr. Jermyn's only the name he goes by. He's my Lord now, you
must remember."

Just then the Duke caught sight of us riding up. He took us for local
gentry, coming in to volunteer. He came smiling to welcome us. It must
have been a shrewd disappointment to him to find that we were not what
he thought. All his hopes were in the gentry, poor man. By the time we
were on our feet with our hats off he had turned his back upon us
as though to speak to Lord Grey, but really, I believe, to hide his
chagrin. When he turned to us again both of them welcomed us, saying
that there was work enough for all, in enlisting men, making out
billets, etc. So without more ado we gave our horses to the ostlers at
an inn. Mr. Blick at once began to blarney the standers-by into joining,
while I, sitting at a little table, in the open air, wrote out copies of
a letter addressed to the local gentry. My copies were carried from Lyme
by messengers that afternoon but, alas for my master, they did not bring
many gentry to us.

Now while I was writing at the table, under the great flapping standard,
with the Duke, in his purple coat, walking about in front of me, I had a
pretty full view of the crowd which ringed us in. We were circled about
by a crowd of gaping admirers; from whom, every minute, Mr. Blick, or
the Duke, or Lord Grey, would select a sheepish grinning man to serve
under our colours. Among the crowd I noticed a little old lame man with
a long white beard. He was a puppet-man, who was making the people laugh
by dancing his puppets almost under the Duke's nose. As he jerked the
puppet-strings, he played continually on his pan-pipes the ribald tune
of "Hey, boys, up go we," then very popular. The Duke spoke to hi