No Surrender! | Page 2

a justice of the peace but, unless there was some special
business on, he seldom took his place on the bench. He was a jovial
man, who took life easily. He was popular among his neighbours,
especially among the poorer classes; for whom he had always a
pleasant word, as he rode along; and who, in case of illness, knew that
they could always be sure of a supply of soup, or a gill of brandy at
Netherstock.
Among those of his own class it was often a matter of wonder how
James Stansfield made both ends meet. The family had, for two or three
generations, been of a similar temperament to that of the present holder;
men who spent their money freely, and were sure to be present
whenever there was a horse race, or a main of cocks to be fought, or a
prizefight to come off, within a day's ride of Netherstock. Gradually,

farm after farm had been parted with; and the estate now was smaller,
by half, than it had been at the beginning of the century.
James Stansfield had, however, done nothing further to diminish it. He
had a large family, but they could hardly be said to be an expensive one,
seeing that little was spent upon the fashion of their clothes; and
beyond the fact that the curate in charge of the little church in the
village of Netherstock came over, every morning for two or three hours,
to give the boys and girls the elements of education, they went very
much their own way. Mrs. Stansfield had died, five years before this.
Polly, the eldest girl, aged twenty, acted as mistress of the house. Next
to her, at intervals of little more than a year, came Ralph and John; two
strongly built young fellows, both fearless riders and good at all rustic
games. What supervision the farm work got was given by them.
Patsey, the second girl, was generally admitted to be the flower of the
Stansfields. She was bright, pretty, and good tempered. She was in
charge of the dairy, and the Netherstock butter was famous through the
country round, and always fetched top prices at the market. The
youngest of the family was Leigh, who was now fourteen. He was less
heavily built than his brothers, but their tutor declared that he was the
quickest and most intelligent of his pupils; and that, if he had but a
chance, he would turn out a fine young fellow.
The boys were all fond of boating and sailing, which was natural
enough, as the sea washed two sides of the estate. They had two boats.
One of these lay hauled up on the sands, a mile to the east of the
entrance to the harbour. She was a good sea boat and, when work was
slack about the place, which indeed was the normal state of things, they
would often sail to Weymouth to the west, or eastward to Yarmouth or
Lymington, sometimes even to Portsmouth. The other boat, which was
also large, but of very shallow draught of water, lay inside the entrance
to the harbour; and in her they could go either north or south of
Brownsea Island, and shoot or fish in the many inlets and bays. There
were few who knew every foot of the great sheet of water as they did,
and they could tell the precise time of the tide at which the channels
were deep enough for boats drawing from two to three feet of water.

The most frequent visitor to Netherstock was Lieutenant, or, as he was
called in courtesy, Captain Whittier, the officer in command of the
coast guard station between Poole and Christ Church; his principal
station being opposite Brownsea Island, the narrowest point of the
entrance to the harbour. He was a somewhat fussy little officer, with a
great idea of the importance of his duties, mingled with a regret that
these duties did not afford him full scope for proving his ability.
"Smuggling has almost ceased to exist, along here," he would say. "I do
not say that, across the harbour, something that way may not still be
done; for the facilities there are very much greater than they are on this
side. Still, my colleague there can have but little trouble; for I keep a
sharp lookout that no boat enters by the passage south of the island
without being searched. Of course, one hears all sorts of absurd reports
about cargoes being run; but we know better, and I believe they are
only set on foot to put our officers from Swanage Westward, and
beyond Christ Church down to Hurst Castle, off their guard."
"No doubt, captain; no doubt," James Stansfield would agree. "Still, I
fancy that, although times are