s he said aside to Morgan, and the young fellow was so struck by the
tone in which the words were said that they remained fixed in his
memory, and he recalled them with bitter sorrow in after years when the
brave knight's fears had reached their awful fulfilment.

From the Tower steps the knight took a wherry and went up the river as
far as Blackfriars. Shooting the arches of London Bridge gave Dorothy
one quick spasm of fear, for the craft that went ahead of them, being
somewhat clumsily handled, went crash into a pier, spun round, filled
and sank, and left its occupants screaming and struggling in the water.
All were rescued, the boatman himself scrambling nimbly into Raleigh's
boat.

"The tide is not so strong as that which races up the Severn," said
Johnnie; "sure 'tis bad boating that comes to grief here."

"Not so, my master," replied the dripping boatman; "'tis the plaguy
narrowness of these arches and the jutting of the pier foundations that
cause the mishaps. Every fool that has handled an oar cannot shoot
London Bridge."

"That may be," assented the forester; "every stream has its shoals and
currents; nevertheless this Thames tide is to the Severn bore as calf
is to angry bull."

Meanwhile Sir Walter was pointing out objects of interest to his fair
companion. "Yonder building," he said, pointing to a hexagonal
structure on the Surrey side of the river, "is the Globe Theatre. I
must take ye all there some afternoon to hear some pretty comedy of
sweet Will Shakespeare's. Master Morgan hath an ear for poetry, I
believe; he will not snore through the love-making scenes."

Dolly blushed. At Blackfriars steps they landed, went into the city by
the Lud Gate, passed through St. Paul's and out into the Chepe again;
thence to the "Swanne," where the knight took leave of them, promising
to have them down to Whitehall next day if his duties at court gave him
any leisure.

The shops in Chepe were closed; the apprentices ran loose with plenty
of noise and racket. The sober merchants walked out to the Moorfields,
with wife on arm and daughters dutifully following in modest train.
Work was ended. London was taking its evening recreation.

Chapter XVIII.

THREE BROKEN MARINERS.

"Art not coming abroad, Dolly? 'Tis a most rare morning."

Morgan was leaning his length against the side-post of the door of
Mistress Stowe's kitchen; his head reached to the lintel, and the smoky
rafters of the low ceilin