The Battle and the Breeze | Page 6

engaged in peeling potatoes, sat a young
woman who was in all respects her opposite. Bessy Blunt was tall,
broad, muscular, plain-looking, masculine, and remarkably unsubdued.
She was a sort of maid-of-all-work and companion to the old woman.
Mrs Blyth lived in the hope of subduing her attendant--who was also
her niece--by means of kindness.
"Who came into the garden just now?" asked Mrs Blyth in a meek
voice.

"Who would it be but William Bowls? sure he comes twice every day,
sometimes oftener," replied Bessy; "but what's the use? nothing comes
of it."
"Something may come of it, Bessy," said Mrs Blyth, "if William settles
down steadily to work, but I am anxious about him, for he seems to me
hasty in temper. Surely, Bessy, you would not like to see our Nell
married to an angry man?"
"I don't know about that," replied the girl testily, as she cut a potato in
two halves with unnecessary violence; "all I know is that I would like
to see her married to Bill Bowls. He's an able, handsome man. Indeed, I
would gladly marry him myself if he asked me!"
Mrs Blyth smiled a little at this. Bessy frowned at a potato and said
"Humph!" sternly.
Now it happened just at that moment that the press-gang before referred
to arrived in front of the cottage. Bessy chanced to look through the
window, and saw them pass. Instantly she ran to the back door and
screamed "Press-gang," as a warning to Bill to get out of the way and
hide himself as quickly as possible, then, hastening back, she seized
one of old Mrs Blyth's crutches, ran to the front door, and slammed it to,
just as the leader of the gang came forward.
Meanwhile William Bowls, knowing that if he did not make his escape,
his hopes of being married speedily would be blasted, turned to leap
over the garden wall, but the leader of the press-gang had taken care to
guard against such a contingency by sending a detachment round to the
rear.
"It's all up with me!" cried Bill, with a look of chagrin, on observing
the men.
"Come, hide in the kitchen; quick! I will show you where," cried Nelly,
seizing his hand and leading him into the house, the back door of which
she locked and barred.

"There, get in," cried the girl, opening a low door in the wall, which
revealed the coal-hole of the establishment.
Bill's brow flushed. He drew back with a proud stern look and
hesitated.
"Oh, do! for my sake," implored Nell.
A thundering rap on the front door resounded through the cottage; the
sailor put his pride in his pocket, stooped low and darted in. Nelly shut
the door, and leaned a baking-board against it.
"Let us in!" said a deep voice outside.
"Never!" replied Bessy, stamping her foot.
"You had better, dear," replied the voice, in a conciliatory tone; "we
won't do you any harm."
"Go along with you--brutes!" said the girl.
"We'll have to force the door if you don't open it, my dear."
"You'd better not!" cried Bessy through the keyhole.
At the same time she applied her eye to that orifice, and instantly
started back, for she saw the leader of the gang retire a few paces
preparatory to making a rush. There was short time for action,
nevertheless Bessy was quick enough to fling down a large stool in
front of the door and place herself in an attitude of defence. Next
moment the door flew open with a crash, and a sailor sprang in, cutlass
in hand. As a matter of course he tripped over the stool, and fell
prostrate at Bessy's feet, and the man who followed received such a
well-delivered blow from the crutch that he fell on the top of his
comrade. While the heroine was in the act of receiving the third she felt
both her ankles seized by the man who had fallen first. A piercing yell
followed. In attempting to free herself she staggered back and fell, the
crutch was wrenched from her grasp, and the whole gang poured over

her into the kitchen, where they were met by their comrades, who had
just burst in the back door.
"Search close," cried one of these; "there's a big fellow in the house; we
saw him run into it."
"You may save yourselves the trouble; there's no man in this house,"
cried Bessy, who had risen and followed her conquerors, and who now
stood, with dishevelled locks, flushed countenance, and gleaming eyes,
vowing summary vengeance on the first man she caught off his guard!
As the men believed her, they took care to keep well on their guard
while engaged in the search. Poor old Mrs Blyth looked absolutely
horror-stricken at this