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I had scarce set out in a pungy from the dock, when I perceived a dozen boats about the packet; and when I thrust my shoulders through the gangway, there was the company gathered at the mainmast. They made a gay bit of colour, Dr. Courtenay in a green coat laced with fine Mechlin, Fitzhugh in claret and silk stockings of a Quaker gray, and the other gentlemen as smartly drest.
He rose, and Courtenay walked with him to where his party waited in the dark, chilled by the cold wind whistling down the Khyber. Rewa Gunga sat, mounted, at their head, and close to him his personal servant rode another horse. Behind them were the mules, and then in a cluster, each with a load of some sort on his head, were the thirty prisoners, and Ismail took charge of them officiously.
The voice conveyed neither, and might have stood for both. I looked up again, but she had vanished, and where she had been the moment before stood Mr Raymond. "A penny for your thoughts, Miss Courtenay." "You shall have my past thoughts, if you please," said I, trying to speak lightly. "I would rather not sell my present ones at the price." He smiled, and drew out a new penny.
"Eighteen-pounders, by the powers!" ejaculated Courtenay, turning to me. "A narrow squeak that for you, old boy? Now, then, my hearties," to the Spaniards, "tail on to those sweeps again, and look sharp about it. Remember, if we are caught away goes your chance of making a fortune out of friend Giuseppe yonder."
He asked hoarsely for some hot water. When Courtenay next came across him in the saloon he was asleep, and changed so greatly by the removal of pigments from his face that it was difficult to regard him as the same being. His story was unquestionably true.
He was translated to Canterbury on the death of Courtenay, and consecrated Archbishop, January 11th, 1397. The decree of banishment was issued, and he was ordered to sail from Dover, on the 29th of that month. His see was declared vacant, and Roger Walden was elected Archbishop in his stead.
Sir Francis sat back in his chair for a few moments in silence; and Courtenay said to his brother in a whisper, but loud enough for everyone to hear: "Did you ever hear anyone go on like that!" Sir Francis took no notice, but slowly rose from his seat, crossed the room, opened the French window that looked out upon the lawn, and then said: "Hand me a candle, Brownsmith."
It was a small knife, and it tumbled with seeming carelessness close to De Courtenay's knee. "So," thought McElroy again; "by all rights that should have been for me." DesCaut went on into the heart of the camp among the women, and De Courtenay began moving ever so cautiously toward the priceless bit of steel. With that hidden in one's garments what not of hope might rise within a daring heart?
Courtenay was crouching low behind the bulwarks on the watch for the grapnel, and in another second it came plump in over the taffrail. Before it had time to catch anywhere, however, my chum had pounced upon it, and, tossing it into the air just as the bowman in the boat was bringing a strain upon the chain, the instrument dropped overboard again.
The first-lieutenant, followed by the master, brushed by him, and was up the ladder before his supererogatory communication could be delivered. "How cursed annoying!" cried Courtenay. "I was just feeling a little better, and now I shall be worse than ever." "You recollect in the `Tempest," said Price, "where Shakespeare says "
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