the moon-light, like men who knew not what they would be
after. The tallest of the three was talking in a loud, lamentable voice.
"Seven pieces of as good Gascony as ever a tapster broached," he was
saying, "the best ship out o' the port o' Dartmouth, a Virgin Mary
parcel-gilt, thirteen pounds of good gold money----"
"I have bad losses too," interrupted one of the others. "I have had
losses of mine own, gossip Arblaster. I was robbed at Martinmas of five
shillings and a leather wallet well worth ninepence farthing."
Dick's heart smote him at what he heard. Until that moment he had not
perhaps thought twice of the poor skipper who had been ruined by the
loss of the _Good Hope_; so careless, in those days, were men who wore
arms of the goods and interests of their inferiors. But this sudden
encounter reminded him sharply of the high-handed manner and ill-ending
of his enterprise; and both he and Lawless turned their heads the other
way, to avoid the chance of recognition.
The ship's dog had, however, made his escape from the wreck and found
his way back again to Shoreby. He was now at Arblaster's heels, and,
suddenly sniffing and pricking his ears, he darted forward and began to
bark furiously at the two sham friars.
His master unsteadily followed him.
"Hey, shipmates!" he cried. "Have ye ever a penny piece for a poor old
shipman, clean destroyed by pirates? I am a man that would have paid for
you both o' Thursday morning; and now here I be o' Saturday night,
begging for a flagon of ale! Ask my man Tom, if ye misdoubt me. Seven
pieces of good Gascon wine, a ship that was mine own, and was my
father's before me, a Blessed Mary of plane-tree wood and parcel-gilt,
and thirteen pounds in gold and silver. Hey! what say ye? A man that
fought the French too; for I have fought the French; I have cut more
French throats upon the high seas than ever a man that sails out of
Dartmouth. Come, a penny piece."
Neither Dick nor Lawless durst answer him a word, lest he should
recognise their voices; and they stood there as helpless as a ship
ashore, not knowing where to turn nor what to hope.
"Are ye dumb, boy?" inquired the skipper.--"Mates," he added, with a
hiccup, "they be dumb. I like not this manner of discourtesy; for an a
man be dumb, so be as he's courteous, he will still speak when he was
spoken to, methinks."
By this time the sailor, Tom, who was a man of great personal strength,
seemed to have conceived som
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