Have for years past, and in divers manners, carried on here a forge for cannon castings.
I have, and of the best and toughest iron ever smelted in the south. His Majesty never heard of one of my pieces bursting.
That you also carry on some works wherein, without leave or licence, you make largely that dangerous and deadly material known as gunpowder.
Dangerous, and deadly too, chuckled the bluff yeoman, if it gets into foolish hands. Its true enough, and my best dogwood charcoal makes the strongest powder to be had.
A material which his Majesty holds in utter abhorrence and detestation, ever since his devilish and malignant enemies, aided and abetted by Popish treasonable priests, essayed to destroy the Houses of Parliament and kill and slay his most sacred person.
No wonder, sir, chuckled Cobbe. Enough to make any man abhor powder. But hark ye, one barrel of mine would have been enough to shake the place about their ears.
That this cannon and this powder of your manufacture you have for years past regularly and by your own design sold, furnished, and supplied to his sacred Majestys enemies in various parts of the world. These treasonable practices he now wots of, at least by report, and I am his messenger to you, sir, to know if they are true. What have you to say?
What have I to say, boy! cried the cannon founder, flushing angrily as he leaned forward, set his elbows on the table, and gazed full at his visitor. What have I to say? Nothing at all. I do make cannons, and I do make powder, the best I can, and I sell them to those wholl buy. I offered to supply his Majesty with guns of which he might be proud, and some Jack-in-office refused my offer, so I sell them where I will.
To his Majestys enemies?
Hang his enemies; I know not who gets them when they are shipped away and I am paid.
You avow then, boldly, that you do supply these munitions of warfare to other than the Kings liege subjects?
Avow, man, yes. I sell to who will give me a good price; and look here, my gaily-feathered young Tom chick, this is not London city, and my house is not the Court. Dont speak to me as if I were one of your servants and hangers-on.
You are insolent, sir, cried Sir Mark angrily. If I report all this and your treasonable words, the result may be a body of his Majestys soldiers despatched to raze your works to the ground, and march you back to London to take your trial.
Let them come, cried the founder, now giving the fury he had pent up its full vent; let them come, and Ill give them such a reception as will make your Powder Plot seem a trifle. Why, do you know, my velvet and silken popinjay, that we have good men and true down here, enough to tickle the ears of as many of your fellows as you like to send.
Silence, sir! cried Sir Mark; do you dare to set at naught the Kings.
Damn the King! cried the founder furiously, damn the King for a porridge-eating, witch-hunting old fool!
Insolent dog, cried Sir Mark.
What! retorted the founder, do you pull your blade on me? Then you shall see that we have steel as well.
Sir Mark had risen and drawn his sword, evidently with some mad idea that it was his duty to arrest this utterer of treason on the spot; but, with an activity of which he might not have been believed capable, Jeremiah Cobbe sprang to the side of the room, snatched a sword from the wall, drew, and crossed that of the young courtier. There was a harsh grating, a few quick thrusts and parries, as the open window was slightly darkened, and Sir Mark uttered a sharp cry, for his adversarys sword passed like lightning through his arm, and he staggered back, as an upbraiding voice exclaimed Oh, father, father, what have you done?
How Sir Mark Stayed at the Park House, and jeremiah cobbe delivered a Homily on Angling
when she saw the red blood darken the russet velvet of the young mans sleeve.
Done! cried Cobbe, What do I always do, my girl? Acted like the passionate old fool I am. Poor boy! he ejaculated, as the sword dropped from Sir Marks hand, and white as Maces self the Kings messenger sank fainting on his adversarys arm, to be lowered gently to the floor. God knows, child, Id give five hundred pounds to undo it all. He angered me, and drew, and the sight of the naked steel made the blood come into my eyes. Poor boy poor boy! A brave youth, though he fretted and strutted and bullied me so. Thats better. Hi, Janet, some cold water. Stop, child, dont rip his fine jacket or hell break his heart. My faith on it, hell think more of the holes in his velvet than in his skin. Steady! hold him up a little, and Ill strip off his fine coat. Thats it; now, a little more; never mind the drop of blood, it wont kill him.
I know, father, said Mace, but put away those swords; and she held up the wounded mans head as her father cleverly removed the velvet doublet and turned up the fine white linen shirt, whose sleeve was stained with blood. The wound could now be seen, or rather wounds two narrow clean cuts on either side of the fleshy part of the arm, from which the blood pretty freely welled.