hese
sand-banks; with every moment, then, the sea packeth upon us heavier,
and for all these whimperers, they will presently be on their backs.
For, my master, 'tis a right mystery, but true, there never yet was a
bad man that was a good shipman. None but the honest and the bold can
endure me this tossing of a ship."

"Nay, Lawless," said Dick, laughing, "that is a right shipman's by-word,
and hath no more of sense than the whistle of the wind. But, prithee,
how go we? Do we lie well? Are we in good case?"

"Master Shelton," replied Lawless, "I have been a Grey Friar--I praise
fortune--an archer, a thief, and a shipman. Of all these coats, I had
the best fancy to die in the Grey Friar's, as ye may readily conceive,
and the least fancy to die in John Shipman's tarry jacket; and that for
two excellent good reasons: first, that the death might take a man
suddenly; and second, for the horror of that great, salt smother and
welter under my foot here"--and Lawless stamped with his foot.
"Howbeit," he went on, "an I die not a sailor's death, and that this
night, I shall owe a tall candle to our Lady."

"Is it so?" asked Dick.

"It is right so," replied the outlaw. "Do ye not feel how heavy and dull
she moves upon the waves? Do ye not hear the water washing in her hold?
She will scarce mind the rudder even now. Bide till she has settled a
bit lower; and she will either go down below your boots like a stone
image, or drive ashore here, under our lee, and come all to pieces like
a twist of string."

"Ye speak with a good courage," returned Dick. "Ye are not then
appalled?"

"Why, master," answered Lawless, "if ever a man had an ill crew to come
to port with, it is I--a renegade friar, a thief, and all the rest on't.
Well, ye may wonder, but I keep a good hope in my wallet; and if that I
be to drown, I will drown with a bright eye, Master Shelton, and a
steady hand."

Dick returned no answer; but he was surprised to find the old vagabond
of so resolute a temper, and fearing some fresh violence or treachery,
set forth upon his quest for three sure men. The great bulk of the men
had now deserted the deck, which was continually wetted with the flying
sprays, and where they lay exposed to the shrewdness of the winter wind.
They had gathered, instead, into the hold of the merchandise, among the
butts of wine, and lighted by two swinging lanterns.

Here a few kept up the form of revelry, and toasted each other deep in
Arblast