carried it out, regardless of the inconvenience it caused.

A vestry meeting was called, and the rate (to obtain funds for the
bells) was at length passed. Two or three voices were feebly lifted in
opposition; Mr. West alone had courage to speak out; but the Captain put
him down with his strong hand. It may be asked why Captain Monk did not
provide the funds himself for this whim. But he would never touch his
own pocket for the benefit of the parish if he could help it: and it was
thought that his antagonism to the parson was the deterring motive.

To impose the rate was one thing, to collect it quite another. Some of
the poorer ratepayers protested with tears in their eyes that they could
not pay. Superfluous rates (really not necessary ones) were perpetually
being inflicted upon them, they urged, and were bringing them, together
with a succession of recent bad seasons, to the verge of ruin. They
carried their remonstrances to their Vicar, and he in turn carried them
to Captain Monk.

It only widened the breach. The more persistently, though gently, Mr.
West pleaded the cause of his parishioners, asking the Captain to be
considerate to them for humanity's sake, the greater grew the other's
obstinacy in holding to his own will. To be thus opposed roused all the
devil within him--it was his own expression; and he grew to hate Mr.
West with an exceeding bitter hatred.

The chimes were ordered--to play one tune only. Mr. West asked, when the
thing was absolutely inevitable, that at least some sweet and sacred
melody, acceptable to church-going ears, might be chosen; but Captain
Monk fixed on a sea-song that was a favourite of his own--"The Bay of
Biscay." At the end of every hour, when the clock had struck, the Bay of