Sir Mortimer | Page 4

speaker broke off with an
oath and sat with fixed gaze, his hand beating upon the table a noiseless

tattoo.
"To die," said Mortimer Ferne slowly. "To die cleanly, having lived
nobly--it is a good wish, Master Hudson! To die greatly--as did your
cousin, sir,--a good knight and true, defending faith and loyalty, what
more consummate flower for crown of life? What loftier victory,
supremer triumph? Pain of body, what is it? Let the body cry out, so
that it betray not the mind, cheat not the soul into a remediless prison of
perdition and shame!"
He drank of his wine, then with a slight laugh and wave of his hand
dismissed a subject too grave for the hour. A little later he arose with
his guests from the table, and since time was passing and for some
there was much to do, men began to exchange farewells. To-morrow
would see the adventurers gone from England; to-day kinsmen and
friends must say good-by, warmly, with clasping of hands and
embracing, even with tears, for it was an age when men did not scorn to
show emotion. A thousand perils awaited those who went, nor for those
who stayed would time or tide make tarrying. It was most possible that
they who parted now would find, this side eternity, no second inn of
meeting.
From his perch beside the door, the boy in blue and silver watched his
master's guests step into the sunlight and go away. A throng had
gathered in front of the tavern, for the most part of those within were
men of note, and Sir John Nevil's adventure to the Indies had long been
general talk. Singly or in little groups the revellers issued from the
tavern, and for this or that known figure and favorite the crowd had its
comment and cheering. At last all were gone save the adventurers
themselves, who, having certain final arrangements to make, stayed to
hold council in the Triple Tun's long room.
Their conference was not long. Presently came forth Captain Baptist
Manwood of the Marigold with his lieutenants, Wynch and Paget, and
Captain Robert Baldry of the Star. The four, talking together, started
towards the waterside where they were to take boat for the ships that
lay above Greenwich, but ere they had gone forty paces Baldry felt his
sleeve twitched. Turning, he found at his elbow the blue and silver

sprig who served Sir Mortimer Ferne.
"Save you, sir," said the boy. "There's a gentleman at the Triple Tun
desires your honor would give him five minutes of your company."
"I did expect a man of my acquaintance, a Paul's man with a good
rapier to sell," quoth Baldry. "Boy, is the gentleman a lean gentleman
with a Duke Humphrey look? Wait for me, sirs, at the stairs!"
Within the Triple Tun, Sir John Nevil yet sat at table pondering certain
maps and charts spread out before him, while Mortimer Ferne, having
re-entered the room after a moment's absence, leaned over his
commander's shoulder and watched the latter's forefinger tracing the
coastline from the Cape of Three Points to Golden Castile. By the
window stood Arden, while on a settle near him lounged Henry Sedley,
lieutenant to the Captain of the Cygnet; moreover a young gentleman of
great promise, a smooth, dark, melancholy beauty, and a pretty taste in
dress. In his hands was a gittern which had been hanging on the wall
above him, and he played upon it, softly, a sweet and plaintive air.
In upon these four burst Baldry, who, not finding the Paul's man and
trader in rapiers, drew himself up sharply. Sir Mortimer came forward
and made him a low bow, which he, not to be outdone in courtesy, any
more than in weightier matters, returned in his own manner, fierce and
arrogant as that of a Spanish conquistador.
"Captain Robert Baldry, I trusted that you would return," said Ferne.
"And now, since you are no longer guest of mine, we will resume our
talk of Fayal in the Azores. Your gossips lied, sir; and he who, not
staying to examine a quarrel, becomes a repeater of lies, may chance
upon a summer day, in a tavern such as this, to be called a liar. My
cartel, sir!"
He flung his glove, which scarce had felt the floor before the other
snatched it up. "God's death! you shall be accommodated!" he cried.
"Here and now, is't not? and with sword and dagger? Sir, I will spit you
like a lark, or like the Spaniard I did vanquish for a Harry shilling at El
Gran' Canario, last Luke's day--"

The three witnesses of the challenge sprang to their feet, the gittern
falling from Sedley's hands, and Sir John's papers fluttering to the floor.
The latter thrust himself