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But Penfeather winged one o' the lubberly rogues, praise God, Mart'n! Which done and with due time to curse 'em, every mother's son of 'em, he turns to him and the carpenter and his mates there and then to repair damages. Ha, a man o' mark is Captain Adam, pal." "Godby," says I, "did ye chance to see aught of a boat carrying a great bundle in the stern-sheets and rowed by a man in a red cap?"
"Cock," says Bym reproachfully, and setting a goodly cheese on the table with a bang, "say free-trader, cock t'other 'un's a cackling word and I don't like cackle " "Aye," nodded Godby, "that's the word, 'free-trader, Mart'n. So I am and what then? 'Twas summat o' the sort as got me suspicioned by Gregory and his catchpolls, rot 'em."
"He is come to great repute, I hear!" said I, my hungry gaze wandering. "Verily he hath, Mart'n; the King do honour him vastly especially since he pinked a strutting, quarrelsome gentleman through the sword-arm in St. James's Park, and him a nearl, pal!" "At last!" says I. "Anan, pal?" he questioned, but looking where I looked.
For her size she's well armed is the 'Faithful Friend, Mart'n!" Thus Godby, as he led me from gun to gun slapping hand on breech or trunnion, and as I hearkened 'twas hard to recognise the merry peddler in this short, square, grave-faced gunner who spake with mariner's tongue, hitched ever and anon at the broad belt of his galligaskins, and rolled in his gait already.
"Nary a blink, Mart'n why?" "I'm wondering what came of that same bundle " "Hove overboard belike, pal there's many a strange thing goes a-floating out to sea from hereabouts, Mart'n drownd me!" "Belike you're right!" says I. "Mart'n, Sir Rupert's ashore to meet her ladyship, so you'm free to come 'bove deck if so minded?" "Nay, I'll bide where I am, Godby."
Ten minutes arter our first salvo the fort was ours, their guns spiked, an' we running for the harbour, Sir Adam showing the way. And, Lord! To hear the folk in the tower, you'd ha' thought 'twas the last trump such shrieks and howls, Mart'n.
"And wind!" says I as the stout ship reeled and plunged to the howling gust. "No, Mart'n," roared Godby above the piping tumult, "not real wind, pal a stiffish breeze jolly capful."
"Aye, ye did so, pal, groaning ye might call it aye, fit to chill a man's good blood!" "And neither you nor Adam nor the others thought to search this dog-hole of mine?" "Lord love ye no, Mart'n! How should three men hide here?" "Three men? Aye, true enough!" says I, clasping my head to stay the rush and hurry of my thoughts.
Presently, espying Godby where divers of his fellows rove new tackle to a gun, I enquired for Adam. "I' the gun room, Mart'n nay, I'll stand along wi' you." So he brought me down to the gun room where sat Adam, elbows on table, chin on hand, peering up at one who stood before him in fetters, a haggard, warworn figure. "What Resolution?" said I.
Speaking, he tore open the door and I saw his knife flash as he sprang into the darkness beyond; as for me I quaffed my ale. "Content you, Godby," says I, "here be no ghosts " "Soft, lad speak soft!" he whispered. "For Lord love you, Mart'n, 'tis worse than ghosts as I do fear! Dog bite me, pal, here's been black and bloody doings aboard us this last two nights." "How so, Godby?"
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