Amyas recollected now.  It was the name of the sailor who had given him the wondrous horn five years ago.

“My good dame,” said he, “the Indies are a very large place, and your son may be safe and sound enough there, without my having seen him.  I knew one Salvation Yeo.  But he must have come with—­By the by, godfather, has Mr. Oxenham come home?”

There was a dead silence for a moment among the gentlemen round; and then Sir Richard said solemnly, and in a low voice, turning away from the old dame,—­

“Amyas, Mr. Oxenham has not come home; and from the day he sailed, no word has been heard of him and all his crew.”

“Oh, Sir Richard! and you kept me from sailing with him!  Had I known this before I went into church, I had had one mercy more to thank God for.”

“Thank Him all the more in thy life, my child!” whispered his mother.

“And no news of him whatsoever?”

“None; but that the year after he sailed, a ship belonging to Andrew Barker, of Bristol, took out of a Spanish caravel, somewhere off the Honduras, his two brass guns; but whence they came the Spaniard knew not, having bought them at Nombre de Dios.”

“Yes!” cried the old woman; “they brought home the guns, and never brought home my boy!”

“They never saw your boy, mother,” said Sir Richard.

“But I’ve seen him!  I saw him in a dream four years last Whitsuntide, as plain as I see you now, gentles, a-lying upon a rock, calling for a drop of water to cool his tongue, like Dives to the torment!  Oh! dear me!” and the old dame wept bitterly.

“There is a rose noble for you!” said Mrs. Leigh.

“And there another!” said Sir Richard.  And in a few minutes four or five gold coins were in her hand.  But the old dame did but look wonderingly at the gold a moment, and then—­

“Ah! dear gentles, God’s blessing on you, and Mr. Cary’s mighty good to me already; but gold won’t buy back childer!  O! young gentleman! young gentleman! make me a promise; if you want God’s blessing on you this day, bring me back my boy, if you find him sailing on the seas!  Bring him back, and an old widow’s blessing be on you!”

Amyas promised—­what else could he do?—­and the group hurried on; but the lad’s heart was heavy in the midst of joy, with the thought of John Oxenham, as he walked through the churchyard, and down the short street which led between the ancient school and still more ancient town-house, to the head of the long bridge, across which the pageant, having arranged “east-the-water,” was to defile, and then turn to the right along the quay.