Page:The Dark Frigate (Hawes).djvu/140

The Old One’s eyes leaped from man to man and his cold voice cut through the noisy riot of drunken mirth. “I had said Will Canty was a man of spirit, but his can hugs the table when these tall fellows are drinking confusion to the King.”

“A hand-napper, a hand-napper! Have him away, my hearts, to the Halifax engine," Joe Kirk bawled with a drunken leer.

“Why,” said Will Canty, and his face was white, but with a red spot on either cheek, ‘‘my can, since you say what you say, was dry; and for the matter of that, I am no prating Puritan who wishes ill to the King.”

Over the rumble of voices the Old One’s voice rose loudest: ‘‘See you, then, religious cobblers or preaching button-makers among us?’

“And there are others yet besides prating Puritans, mine friend, that drink our toast!” cried Jacob.

The Old One then smiled, for he was no man to drive a nail with a two-hand sledge. But although he changed his manner as fast and often as light flickers on running water, under the surface there flowed a strong, even current of liking or ill will, as sooner or later all men that had dealings with him must learn, some to their wonder and some to their sorrow. "Enough, enough!” said he. ‘‘Will ’s a good lad and he’ll serve us well when there’s powder smoke to snuff. Be you not offended, Will. In all faith our ship is a king’s ship and more, for are we not thirty kings, to fight our own battles and heave out our own flag before the world and take such treasures as will buy us, each and all, a king’s palace and all the wives a king could wish? Nay, God helping us, my hearts, we shall carry home to good Mother Taylor riches that will serve for a sponge to wipe the chalk