Sir Mortimer | Page 5

between the two who had bared their weapons.
"What is this, gentlemen? Mortimer Ferne, put up your sword! Captain
Baldry, your valor may keep for the Spaniards! Obey me, sirs!"
"Let be, John Nevil," said Ferne. "To-morrow I become your sworn
man. To-day my honor is my Admiral!"
"Will you walk, Sir Mortimer Ferne?" demanded Baldry. "The Bull and
Bear, just down the street, hath a little parlor--a most sweet retired
place, and beareth no likeness to the poop of the Mere Honour. Sir
John Nevil, your servant, sir--to-morrow!"
[Illustration: "SIR JOHN THRUST HIMSELF BETWEEN THE
TWO"]
"My servant to-day, sir," thundered the Admiral, "in that I will force
you to leave this quarrel! Death of my life! shall this get abroad? Not
that common soldiers or mariners ashore fall out and cudgel each other
until the one cannot handle a rope nor the other a morris-pike! not that
wild gallants, reckless and broken adventurers whose loss the next
daredevil scamp may supply, choose the eve of sailing for a duello, in
which one or both may be slain; but that strive together my captains,
men vowed to noble service, loyal aid, whose names are in all mouths,
who go forth upon this adventure not (I trust in God) with an eye single
to the gain of the purse, but thinking, rather, to pluck green laurels for
themselves, and to bring to the Queen and England gifts of waning
danger, waxing power! What reproach--what evil augury--nay, perhaps,
what maiming of our enterprise! Leaders and commanders that you are,
with your goodly ships, your mariners and soldiers awaiting you, and
above us all the lode-star of noblest duty, truest honor--will you thus
prefer to the common good your private quarrel? Nay, now, I might say
'you shall not'; but, instead, I choose to think you will not!"
The speech was of the longest for the Admiral, who was a man of
golden silences. His look had been upon Baldry, but his words were for
Mortimer Ferne, at whom he looked not at all. "I have been challenged,

sir," cried Baldry, roughly. "Draw back? God's wounds, not I!"
His antagonist bit his lip until the blood sprang. "The insult was gross,"
he said, with haughtiness, "but since I may not deny the truth of your
words, John Nevil, I will reword my cartel. Captain Robert Baldry, I do
solemnly challenge you to meet me with sword and dagger upon that
day which sees our return to England!"
"A far day that, perhaps!" cried Baldry. "But so be it! I'll not fail you,
Sir Mortimer Ferne. Look that you fail not me!"
"Sir!" cried Ferne, sharply.
The Admiral struck the table a great blow. "Gentlemen, no more of this!
What! will you in this mood go forth side by side to meet a common
foe? Nay, I must have you touch hands!"
The Captain of the Cygnet held out his hand. He of the Star first swore,
then burst into a great laugh; finally laid his own upon it.
"Now we are turtle-doves, Sir John, nothing less! and the Star and the
Cygnet may bill and coo from the Thames to Terra Firma!" Suddenly
he ceased to laugh, and let fall his hand. "But I have not forgotten," he
said, "that at Fayal in the Azores I had a brother slain."
He was gone, swinging from the room with scant ceremony, loudly
ordering from his path the loiterers at the inn door. They whose
company he had quitted were silent for a moment; then said Sir
Mortimer, slowly: "I remember now--there was a Thomas Baldry,
master of the Speedwell. Well, it was a sorry business that day! If from
that muck of blood and horror was born Detraction--"
"The man was mad!" thrust in young Sedley, hotly. "Detraction and
you have no acquaintance."
Ferne, with a slight laugh, stooped to pick up the fallen gittern. "She
kept knighthood and me apart for a year, Henry. 'Tis a powerful dame,
a most subtle and womanish foe, who knoweth not or esteemeth not the

rules of chivalry. Having yielded to plain Truth, she yet, as to-day,
raiseth unawares an arm to strike." He hung the gittern upon its peg,
then went across to the Admiral and put both hands upon his shoulders.
The smile was yet upon his lips, but his voice had a bitter ring. "John,
John," he said, "old wounds leave not their aching. That tall,
fanfaronading fellow hath a power to anger me,--not his words alone,
but the man himself.... Well, let him go until the day we come sailing
back to England! For his words--" He paused and a shadow came over
his face. "Who knows himself?" he said. "There are times when I look
within and doubt my every quality that men