'Him and me puzzled over that talk plenty. It sticked in his mind
quite extravagant. The very next time we slipped out for some fetchin'
trade, we met Mus' Stenning's boat over by Calais sands; and he warned
us that the Spanishers had shut down all their Dutch ports against us
English, and their galliwopses was out picking up our boats like flies
off hogs' backs. Mus' Stenning he runs for Shoreham, but Frankie held on
a piece, knowin' that Mus' Stenning was jealous of our good trade. Over
by Dunkirk a great gor-bellied Spanisher, with the Cross on his sails,
came rampin' at us. We left him. We left him all they bare seas to
conquest in.

'"Looks like this road was going to be shut pretty soon," says Frankie,
humouring her at the tiller. "I'll have to open that other one your Aunt
foretold of."

'"The Spanisher's crowdin' down on us middlin' quick," I says.

'"No odds," says Frankie, "he'll have the inshore tide against him. Did
your Aunt say I was to lie quiet in my grave for ever?"

'"Till my iron ships sailed dry land," I says.

'"That's foolishness," he says. "Who cares where Frankie Drake makes a
hole in the water now or twenty years from now?"

'The Spanisher kept muckin' on more and more canvas. I told him so.

'"He's feelin' the tide," was all he says. "If he was among Tergoes
Sands with this wind, we'd be picking his bones proper. I'd give my
heart to have all their tall ships there some night before a north gale,
and me to windward. There'd be gold in my hands then. Did your Aunt say
she saw the world settin' in my hand, Sim?"

'"Yes, but 'twas a apple," says I, and he laughed like he always did at
me. "Do you ever feel minded to jump overside and be done with
everything?" he asks after a while.

'"No. What water comes aboard is too wet as 'tis," I says. "The
Spanisher's going about."

'"I told you," says he, never looking back. "He'll give us the Pope's
Blessing as he swings. Come down off that rail. There's no knowin' where
stray shots may hit." So I came down off the rail, and leaned against
it, and the Spanisher he ruffled round in the wind, and his port-lids
opened all red inside.

'"Now what'll happen to my road if they don't let me lie quiet in my
grave?" he says. "Does your Aunt mean there's two roads to be found and
kept open--or what does she mean? I don't like that talk about t'other
road. D'you believe in your iron ships, Sim?"

'He knowed I did, so I only nodded, and he nodded back