What then would you do?"

Nigel pointed to the boat which towed astern. "Let us venture forth
in her," said he, "and let us take this ship or die worshipful in the
attempt."

His bold and fiery words found their echo in the brave rough hearts
around him. There was a deep-chested shout from both archers and seamen.
Even Aylward sat up, with a wan smile upon his green face.

But Cock Badding shook his head. "I have never met the man who could
lead where I would not follow," said he; "but by Saint Leonard! this is
a mad business, and I should be a fool if I were to risk my men and my
ship. Bethink you, little master, that the skiff can hold only five,
though you load her to the water's edge. If there is a man yonder,
there are fourteen, and you have to climb their side from the boat. What
chance would you have? Your boat stove and you in the water--there is
the end of it. No man of mine goes on such a fool's errand, and so I
swear!"

"Then, Master Badding, I must crave the loan of your skiff, for by Saint
Paul! the good Lord Chandos' papers are not to be so lightly lost. If no
one else will come, then I will go alone."

The shipman smiled at the words; but the smile died away from his lips
when Nigel, with features set like ivory and eyes as hard as steel,
pulled on the rope so as to bring the skiff under the counter. It was
very clear that he would do even as he said. At the same time Aylward
raised his bulky form from the deck, leaned for a moment against the
bulwarks, and then tottered aft to his master's side.

"Here is one that will go with you," said he, "or he would never dare
show his face to the girls of Tilford again. Come, archers, let us leave
these salt herrings in their pickle tub and try our luck out on the
water."

The three archers at once ranged themselves on the same side as their
comrade. They were bronzed, bearded men, short in stature, as were
most Englishmen of that day, but hardy, strong and skilled with their
weapons. Each drew his string from its waterproof case and bent the huge
arc of his war-bow as he fitted it into the nocks.

"Now, master, we are at your back," said they as they pulled and
tightened their sword-belts.

But already Cock Badding had been carried away by the hot lust of battle
and had thrown aside every fear and doubt which had clouded him. To see
a fight and not to be in it was more than he could bear.

"Nay, have it your own way!" he cried, "and may Saint Leonard h