Martin Conisby

Resolution's scarred head sank, his maimed body seemed to shrink and there broke from him a groan: "To hang--to die--she's so young--so young--all I ever had to love! Oh, Lord God o' battles--"

"Godby, summon the guard and see him safely bestowed--in the lock-up aft, and bring the key to my cabin." So at Godby's word, in came two armed fellows and marched out Resolution Day, his head still bowed and his fetters jangling dismally.

"You'll never hang her, Adam!" said I, when we were alone. "You cannot, man--you shall not!"

"Lord, Martin," said he, sitting on his great peruke and looking askance at me, "Lord, what a marvellous thick skull is thine!"

"Mayhap!" quoth I, "but you know my story for true at last--you know Joanna for Captain Jo."

Now here he answered never a word but falls to pacing back and forth, his hands clasped behind him; whereupon I seated myself at the table and leaned my aching head betwixt my hands.

"Adam," said I at last, "how far are we, do you reckon, from Nombre de Dios?"

"Some hundred and fifty miles, maybe a little less."

"Why, then, give me a boat."

"A boat?" said he, pausing in his walk to stare on me.

"Aye, a boat," I nodded. "You cast me adrift once, you'll mind--well--do so again!"

"And what o' my Lady Joan? Ha--will ye tell me you've quarrelled already in true lover-like fashion--is this it?"

"'Tis no matter," quoth I, "only I do not stay on this ship another hour."

"Lord!" said he, "Lord love me, Martin! Here you've scarce found her and now eager to lose her again--heaven save me from love and lovers--"

"Give me a boat."

"A boat?" said he, pinching his chin. "A boat, is it? Why, very well, Martin--a boat! Ha, here me-thinks is the very hand o' Providence, and who am I to gainsay it? You shall have the longboat, Martin, well stored and armed; 'tis a goodly boat that I am loth to part with--but seeing 'tis you, comrade, why very well. Only you must bide till it be dark for reasons obvious--"

"So be it!" I nodded. "And if you could give me a chart and set me a course how to steer for Nombre de Dios, I should be grateful, Adam."

"Why, so I will, Martin. A course to Nombre--aye, verily! 'Tis said one Sir Richard Brandon lieth 'prisoned there. Ha--having quarrelled with daughter you speed away to sire--"

"And what then?" said I, scowling.

"Nought, Martin, nought in the world, only if in this world is a fool--art surely he, comrade. Nay, never rage against your true friend, comrade; give me your arm, let me aid you up to my cabin, for your legs are yet overly weak, I doubt."