er cast a rapid glance about the shed. The fire had just
been replenished, and gave forth volumes of black smoke, so that it was
difficult to see clearly in the further corners. It was plain, however,
that the outlaws very largely outnumbered the remainder of the guests.
Satisfied upon this point, in case of any failure in the operation of his
plan, Dick strode up to the table and resumed his place upon the bench.

"Hey?" cried the skipper, tipsily, "who are ye, hey?"

"I want a word with you without, Master Arblaster," returned Dick; "and
here is what we shall talk of." And he showed him a gold noble in the
glimmer of the firelight.

The shipman's eyes burned, although he still failed to recognise our
hero.

"Ay, boy," he said, "I am with you. Gossip, I will be back anon. Drink
fair, gossip;" and, taking Dick's arm to steady his uneven steps, he
walked to the door of the alehouse.

As soon as he was over the threshold, ten strong arms had seized and
bound him; and in two minutes more, with his limbs trussed one to
another, and a good gag in his mouth, he had been tumbled neck and crop
into a neighbouring hay-barn. Presently, his man Tom, similarly secured,
was tossed beside him, and the pair were left to their uncouth
reflections for the night.

And now, as the time for concealment had gone by, Lord Foxham's followers
were summoned by a preconcerted signal, and the party, boldly taking
possession of as many boats as their numbers required, pulled in a
flotilla for the light in the rigging of the ship. Long before the last
man had climbed to the deck of the Good Hope, the sound of furious
shouting from the shore showed that a part, at least, of the seamen had
discovered the loss of their skiffs.

But it was now too late, whether for recovery or revenge. Out of some
forty fighting men now mustered in the stolen ship, eight had been to
sea, and could play the part of mariners. With the aid of these, a slice
of sail was got upon her. The cable was cut. Lawless, vacillating on
his feet, and still shouting the chorus of sea-ballads, took the long
tiller in his hands: and the Good Hope began to flit forward into the
darkness of the night, and to face the great waves beyond the harbour
bar.

Richard took his place beside the weather rigging. Except for the ship's
own lantern, and for some lights in Shoreby town, that were already
fading to leeward, the whole world of air was as black as in a pit. Only
fr