ed)

The moans of the wounded baron blended with the wailing of the ship's
dog. The poor animal, whether he was merely sick at heart to be
separated from his friends, or whether he indeed recognised some peril in
the labouring of the ship, raised his cries, like minute-guns, above the
roar of wave and weather; and the more superstitious of the men heard, in
these sounds, the knell of the Good Hope.

Lord Foxham had been laid in a berth upon a fur cloak. A little lamp
burned dim before the Virgin in the bulkhead, and by its glimmer Dick
could see the pale countenance and hollow eyes of the hurt man.

"I am sore hurt," said he. "Come near to my side, young Shelton; let
there be one by me who, at least, is gentle born; for after having lived
nobly and richly all the days of my life, this is a sad pass that I
should get my hurt in a little ferreting skirmish, and die here, in a
foul, cold ship upon the sea, among broken men and churls."

"Nay, my lord," said Dick, "I pray rather to the saints that ye will
recover you of your hurt, and come soon and sound ashore."

"How!" demanded his lordship. "Come sound ashore? There is, then, a
question of it?"

"The ship laboureth--the sea is grievous and contrary," replied the lad;
"and by what I can learn of my fellow that steereth us, we shall do well,
indeed, if we come dryshod to land."

"Ha!" said the baron, gloomily, "thus shall every terror attend upon the
passage of my soul! Sir, pray rather to live hard, that ye may die easy,
than to be fooled and fluted all through life, as to the pipe and tabor,
and, in the last hour, be plunged among misfortunes! Howbeit, I have
that upon my mind that must not be delayed. We have no priest aboard?"

"None," replied Dick.

"Here, then, to my secular interests," resumed Lord Foxham: "ye must be
as good a friend to me dead, as I found you a gallant enemy when I was
living. I fall in an evil hour for me, for England, and for them that
trusted me. My men are being brought by Hamley--he that was your rival;
they will rendezvous in the long holm at Holywood; this ring from off my
finger will accredit you to represent mine orders; and I shall write,
besides, two words upon this paper, bidding Hamley yield to you the
damsel. Will he obey? I know not."

"But, my lord, what orders?" inquired Dick.

"Ay," quoth the baron, "ay--the orders;" and he looked upon Dick with
hesitation. "Are ye Lancaster or York?" he asked, at length