The danger is gone?

_The Surgeon:_
Yes. But it will be slow.

_Ireton:_
Whalley--there--in God's name, man. Tell Spilsby to beat down under
General Cromwell. There's not a minute to lose. Whalley--that's
good--come--no man--left--left--now, once more. God is our strength.

_Cromwell:_
There, my son. Brave, brave. It is well.

_Ireton_
(himself):
How is it--out there?

_Cromwell:_
They are scattered.

_Ireton:_
Scattered. Write to Bridget.

_Cromwell:_
Yes--it is done.

_Ireton:_
Read.

_Cromwell_