else?’
‘A galleon bound for Vigo laden with silks and spices, and some gold. More of that anon. Tell your tale.’
Drake had Virginian news, being but just returned from the little colony. He had brought back the colonists, and had much to tell. Talk ran freely, and footsteps lagged. It was after elevenwhen they reached the Devil, and in an upper room were gathered some half a dozen guests awaiting their host.
Drake rolled in with an arm flung across Beauvallet's shoulders. ‘Cry you pardon!’ he said. ‘Look what I bring!’
There was some little stir, a cry of ‘Mad Nicholas, by God!’ and a babel of welcome.
There was Frobisher, ready with a quiet greeting; Master William Hawkins, solid, frieze-clad man; young Richard, his nephew, standing beside Cavendish, a courtier among the sea-dogs; Master John Davys, rugged man, and a scattering of others, most of them known to Sir Nicholas. The rafters rang soon with wild tales tossed to and fro, laughter, and the clink of tankards. Drake sat fatherly at the head of his table, and had Sir Nicholas upon his right hand, Frobisher on his left. Frobisher bent his brows at Beauvallet, and said: ‘I heard of your coming; there were some men of yours met some of mine at the Gallant Howard. Fine doings! I am advised you sail with women aboard. How now, Beauvallet?’
Drake cocked a wise eyebrow in Beauvallet's direction; young Cavendish looked as though he would like to hear more, yet hardly liked to raise his voice in this august gathering.
‘True enough,’ Sir Nicholas said lightly.
‘Rare work for a sailor,’ Frobisher said ironically. ‘A new cantrip, I doubt?’
‘You’re jealous, Martin,’ Drake cut in with a deep laugh. ‘What's the reason, Nick?’
‘Simple enough,’ Beauvallet said, and told it, very briefly.
Drake dipped a sop in his wine, and looked sideways a moment. Frobisher said grimly: ‘Beauvallet looks for romance upon the high seas, and makes his fine gesture. I would not sail with you, Beauvallet, for a thousand pound.’
‘No stomach for it, Frobisher?’ Sir Nicholas said sweetly.
‘None, beshrew me. What fresh devilment this voyage?’
‘Some fine prizes,’ Drake said. ‘And a ring from Perinat – for remembrance's sake, Nick, eh?’
‘I am a plain man,’ Frobisher remarked. ‘Too plain for such doings. Drake and you, Drake and you!’ He shook his head over them.
Master Davys let a sudden laugh at this, and began at once to speak of a mooted expedition in search of the North-West passage he so fervently believed in. ‘Ay, you’re a mad runagate, Nick, but there's a place for you with me if you care to venture forth.’
At that there broke out a general discussion, some ribaldry, and a gentle twitting of Master Davys’ earnestness.
Cavendish, listening bright-eyed to all this discourse, ventured a word here and there, and presently spoke of his own plans. He had three ships fitting out for a West Indian expedition, and was agog to follow brave examples set him. Sir Nicholas wished him God-speed, and drank success to his venture. He found the grave, considering grey eyes of young Richard Hawkins upon him. He threw him a gay word, and young Richard blushed, and laughed.
‘This babe sails with you, Drake?’ Sir Nicholas said. ‘Well-a-day! I left him scarce out of his swaddling-bands!’
‘Ay, ay,’ Drake said. ‘All alike, these Hawkins – born to the sea. Did you have speech with old Master Hawkins at Plymouth?’
‘Long speech, over a tankard of rare beer. I hear the great John grows greater still, Richard.’
‘My father talks of war with Spain,’ Richard said. ‘He says Walsingham looks keenly for it.’
‘A cup to the happy day!’ Beauvallet said.
Frobisher struck in to inquire of Beauvallet's plans; Master Davys, aroused from a dish of eels, struck the table with his clenched fist, and loudly bade Beauvallet sail with him to the North-West passage.
Beauvallet turned it off with a laugh, and
‘A galleon bound for Vigo laden with silks and spices, and some gold. More of that anon. Tell your tale.’
Drake had Virginian news, being but just returned from the little colony. He had brought back the colonists, and had much to tell. Talk ran freely, and footsteps lagged. It was after elevenwhen they reached the Devil, and in an upper room were gathered some half a dozen guests awaiting their host.
Drake rolled in with an arm flung across Beauvallet's shoulders. ‘Cry you pardon!’ he said. ‘Look what I bring!’
There was some little stir, a cry of ‘Mad Nicholas, by God!’ and a babel of welcome.
There was Frobisher, ready with a quiet greeting; Master William Hawkins, solid, frieze-clad man; young Richard, his nephew, standing beside Cavendish, a courtier among the sea-dogs; Master John Davys, rugged man, and a scattering of others, most of them known to Sir Nicholas. The rafters rang soon with wild tales tossed to and fro, laughter, and the clink of tankards. Drake sat fatherly at the head of his table, and had Sir Nicholas upon his right hand, Frobisher on his left. Frobisher bent his brows at Beauvallet, and said: ‘I heard of your coming; there were some men of yours met some of mine at the Gallant Howard. Fine doings! I am advised you sail with women aboard. How now, Beauvallet?’
Drake cocked a wise eyebrow in Beauvallet's direction; young Cavendish looked as though he would like to hear more, yet hardly liked to raise his voice in this august gathering.
‘True enough,’ Sir Nicholas said lightly.
‘Rare work for a sailor,’ Frobisher said ironically. ‘A new cantrip, I doubt?’
‘You’re jealous, Martin,’ Drake cut in with a deep laugh. ‘What's the reason, Nick?’
‘Simple enough,’ Beauvallet said, and told it, very briefly.
Drake dipped a sop in his wine, and looked sideways a moment. Frobisher said grimly: ‘Beauvallet looks for romance upon the high seas, and makes his fine gesture. I would not sail with you, Beauvallet, for a thousand pound.’
‘No stomach for it, Frobisher?’ Sir Nicholas said sweetly.
‘None, beshrew me. What fresh devilment this voyage?’
‘Some fine prizes,’ Drake said. ‘And a ring from Perinat – for remembrance's sake, Nick, eh?’
‘I am a plain man,’ Frobisher remarked. ‘Too plain for such doings. Drake and you, Drake and you!’ He shook his head over them.
Master Davys let a sudden laugh at this, and began at once to speak of a mooted expedition in search of the North-West passage he so fervently believed in. ‘Ay, you’re a mad runagate, Nick, but there's a place for you with me if you care to venture forth.’
At that there broke out a general discussion, some ribaldry, and a gentle twitting of Master Davys’ earnestness.
Cavendish, listening bright-eyed to all this discourse, ventured a word here and there, and presently spoke of his own plans. He had three ships fitting out for a West Indian expedition, and was agog to follow brave examples set him. Sir Nicholas wished him God-speed, and drank success to his venture. He found the grave, considering grey eyes of young Richard Hawkins upon him. He threw him a gay word, and young Richard blushed, and laughed.
‘This babe sails with you, Drake?’ Sir Nicholas said. ‘Well-a-day! I left him scarce out of his swaddling-bands!’
‘Ay, ay,’ Drake said. ‘All alike, these Hawkins – born to the sea. Did you have speech with old Master Hawkins at Plymouth?’
‘Long speech, over a tankard of rare beer. I hear the great John grows greater still, Richard.’
‘My father talks of war with Spain,’ Richard said. ‘He says Walsingham looks keenly for it.’
‘A cup to the happy day!’ Beauvallet said.
Frobisher struck in to inquire of Beauvallet's plans; Master Davys, aroused from a dish of eels, struck the table with his clenched fist, and loudly bade Beauvallet sail with him to the North-West passage.
Beauvallet turned it off with a laugh, and
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