Violet Jacob > Flemington

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FLEMINGTON
object that had been run up the ropes, its irregular
outline flapping and flying against the sky as it
was drawn frantically up and down.
Flemington was blessed with long sight, and he
was certain that the two sharp-cut ends that waved
like streamers as the dark object dipped and rose,
were the sleeves of a man’s coat. He saw a figure
detach itself from the rest and run towards the
seaward edge of the eminence. Ferrier—for h'e
supposed now that Ferrier was on the hill—
must be signalling out to sea with this makeshift
flag.
He half raised himself from his lair. The cold
grey-green of the ocean spread along the world’s
edge, broken by tiny streaks of foam as the wind
began to freshen, and beyond the fir-trees, seen
through their stems, the reason of the activity on
Dial Hill slid into sight.
A ship was coming up the coast not a couple of
miles out, and as Flemington watched her she
stood in landward, as though attracted out of her
course by the signals and the sound of firing in
Montrose harbour. She was too far off for him
to distinguish her colours, but he knew enough
about shipping to be certain that she was a French
frigate.
He dropped back into his place; whilst these
sensational matters were going forward he did
not Suppose that anyone would think of pursuing
him. The fact that the rebels were signalling
her in suggested that the stranger might not be
unexpected, and in all probability she carried