"More than she would do for me," replied the boy, sulkily, adding, with
some of the wisdom of matured manhood, "she must not remain here,
though, no, not another night, for who knows what those rascals would be
at? I am much inclined to think with the crop-eared fellows, that his
Highness (the devil take such highnesses, say I!) would never lay to
windward and trust himself on the island, unless he had good reason to
think he could kill two, ay, ten birds with one stone; he is too old a
man now to go dancing about the country because of a murder, or a
wedding--neither of which he cares much about."
"Except when they come home--quite home--and Mistress Constantia is to
him like an own child. There's a deal of difference in the colour of our
own blood and that of other people. But we must see to it, Springall,
and without delay. The Fire-fly is, as you know, tricked out like a
Dutch lugger, masts--sails--all! I defy even Robin Hays to know her; and
I had a report spread at Sheerness and Queenborough that she had the
plague aboard. Tom o' Coventry, and another o' the lads have talked of
nothing else at the hostelries; and not an hour ago I sent a message to
Jabez Tippet, with a three gallon memorandum of the best Nantz, so that
he might prate of it to all who crossed the Ferry. Her cargo is nearly
discharged, and there are but four men aboard; they walk the deck by
two, as sentries, to keep up the deception; but evil is in the wind when
the Protector is stirring. I should have got her out, far out before,
had I not been obliged to move her backwards and forwards, owing to the
cursed mischances of the times; and, Springall, I am not the man I was."
"Look, captain!" said the boy, energetically; "I would rather set a
torch to the powder-chest of that gay ship, than have her turned into a
Roundhead. Didn't I with my own eyes see a lubberly rascal take a
chisel, or some o' their land tools, and shave every lock of hair off
the figure-head of the 'Royal Charles,' and even off the beard, shorten
the nose into a stub, and then scrawl under it, 'The blessed change;
this regenerated vessel will be known hereafter as the Holy Oliver'?
Wasn't that blasphemy? Come, captain, rouse yourself; let's call a
council--there's little Robin Hays, he loves her timbers as he loves his
life--there's the boatswain, and a lot of honest hands. Let's ship the
ballast--the women I mean--and off for the Americees. Let them blow
Gull's Nest to the devil, if they like; so our trim ship is safe, what
need we care? Ill luck is in the land to any who touch it, save to put
off a rich cargo or take in fresh water."