The Sea-Hawk | Page 7

can sanction this betrothal."
"Good lack!" broke out Sir Oliver. "Who asks your sanction or Sir
John's? By God's grace your sister will grow to be a woman soon and
mistress of herself. I am in no desperate haste to get me wed, and by
nature--as you may be observing--I am a wondrous patient man. I'll
even wait," And he pulled at his pipe.
"Waiting cannot avail you in this, Sir Oliver. 'Tis best you should
understand. We are resolved, Sir John and I."
"Are you so? God's light. Send Sir John to me to tell me of his resolves
and I'll tell him something of mine. Tell him from me, Master
Godolphin, that if he will trouble to come as far as Penarrow I'll do by
him what the hangman should have done long since. I'll crop his
pimpish ears for him, by this hand!"
"Meanwhile," said Master Godolphin whettingly, "will you not essay
your rover's prowess upon me?"
"You?" quoth Sir Oliver, and looked him over with good-humoured
contempt. "I'm no butcher of fledgelings, my lad. Besides, you are your
sister's brother, and 'tis no aim of mine to increase the obstacles already
in my path." Then his tone changed. He leaned across the table. "Come,
now, Peter. What is at the root of all this matter? Can we not compose
such differences as you conceive exist? Out with them. 'Tis no matter
for Sir John. He's a curmudgeon who signifies not a finger's snap. But
you, 'tis different. You are her brother. Out with your plaints, then. Let
us be frank and friendly."
"Friendly?" The other sneered again. "Our fathers set us an example in
that."

"Does it matter what our fathers did? More shame to them if, being
neighbours, they could not be friends. Shall we follow so deplorable an
example?"
"You'll not impute that the fault lay with my father," cried the other,
with a show of ready anger.
"I impute nothing, lad. I cry shame upon them both."
"'Swounds!" swore Master Peter. "Do you malign the dead?"
"If I do, I malign them both. But I do not. I no more than condemn a
fault that both must acknowledge could they return to life."
"Then, Sir, confine your condemnings to your own father with whom
no man of honour could have lived at peace...."
"Softly, softly, good Sir...."
"There's no call to go softly. Ralph Tressilian was a dishonour, a
scandal to the countryside. Not a hamlet between here and Truro, or
between here and Helston, but swarms with big Tressilian noses like
your own, in memory of your debauched parent."
Sir Oliver's eyes grew narrower: he smiled. "I wonder how you came
by your own nose?" he wondered.
Master Godolphin got to his feet in a passion, and his chair crashed
over behind him. "Sir," he blazed, "you insult my mother's memory!"
Sir Oliver laughed. "I make a little free with it, perhaps, in return for
your pleasantries on the score of my father."
Master Godolphin pondered him in speechless anger, then swayed by
his passion he leaned across the board, raised his long cane and struck
Sir Oliver sharply on the shoulder.
That done, he strode off magnificently towards the door. Half-way
thither he paused.

"I shall expect your friends and the length of your sword," said he.
Sir Oliver laughed again. "I don't think I shall trouble to send them,"
said he.
Master Godolphin wheeled, fully to face him again. "How? You will
take a blow?"
Sir Oliver shrugged. "None saw it given," said he.
"But I shall publish it abroad that I have caned you."
"You'll publish yourself a liar if you do; for none will believe you."
Then he changed his tone yet again. "Come, Peter, we are behaving
unworthily. As for the blow, I confess that I deserved it. A man's
mother is more sacred than his father. So we may cry quits on that
score. Can we not cry quits on all else? What can it profit us to
perpetuate a foolish quarrel that sprang up between our fathers?"
"There is more than that between us," answered Master Godolphin. "I'll
not have my sister wed a pirate."
"A pirate? God's light! I am glad there's none to hear you for since her
grace has knighted me for my doings upon the seas, your words go very
near to treason. Surely, lad, what the Queen approves, Master Peter
Godolphin may approve and even your mentor Sir John Killigrew.
You've been listening to him. 'Twas he sent you hither."
"I am no man's lackey," answered the other hotly, resenting the
imputation--and resenting it the more because of the truth in it.
"To call me a pirate is to say a foolish thing. Hawkins with whom I
sailed has also received the