Page:The Dark Frigate (Hawes).djvu/80

something unspeakably hard in her small, cold eyes, Martin trusted her as thus far he had trusted no one they had met. Even to Phil she gave an odd sense of confidence in her complete loyalty.

At Phil she cast many glances, quick and sharp like a bird’s, but she never spoke to him nor he to her.

It was Martin who again spoke up, having blunted the edge of his hunger. ‘‘And now, you old witch, who’s in port and where shall we find the softest berths? For you’ve made it plain that since trust us you must, you will trust us little — that is to say, it is not in thy head that our score shall mount high.”

She chuckled down in her skinny old crop. “Let us see. The Old One has gone and that’s done. You were late.”

“'T is a long road and we went astray.”

“There’s the Nestor and the Essay. They will be off soon; the one to Liverpool for salt, t’ other to Ireland for wool.”

Martin thereupon set down his pot of beer and significantly rubbed his throat, at which the old woman cackled with shrill laughter. ‘‘Aye, th’ art o’er well known in Liverpool. Well, let us consider again. There’s the Rose of Devon, new come from Plymouth. I hear she’s never touched at Bideford before and her master hails from Dorset.”

"His name?”

"'T is Candle.”

Martin laughed boisterously. “A bright and shining name! But I know him not and will chance a singeing. What voyage does she make?”

“She goeth to fetch cod from Newfoundland.” The old woman saw him hesitate. “‘A barren voyage,