“You’m right, Frank.  My old father always told me—­and old King Hal (bless his memory!) would take his counsel among a thousand;—­’And, my son,’ says he to me, ’whatever you do, never you stand no croaking; but hang mun, son Jack, hang mun up for an ensign.  There’s Scripture for it,’ says he (he was a mighty man to his Bible, after bloody Mary’s days, leastwise), ’and ‘tis written,’ says he, ’It’s expedient that one man die for the crew, and that the whole crew perish not; so show you no mercy, son Jack, or you’ll find none, least-wise in they manner of cattle; for if you fail, they stamps on you, and if you succeeds, they takes the credit of it to themselves, and goes to heaven in your shoes.’  Those were his words, and I’ve found mun true.—­Who com’th here now?”

“Captain Fleming, as I’m a sinner.”

“Fleming?  Is he tired of life, that he com’th here to look for a halter?  I’ve a warrant out against mun, for robbing of two Flushingers on the high seas, now this very last year.  Is the fellow mazed or drunk, then? or has he seen a ghost?  Look to mun!”

“I think so, truly,” said Drake.  “His eyes are near out of his head.”

The man was a rough-bearded old sea-dog, who had just burst in from the tavern through the low hatch, upsetting a drawer with all his glasses, and now came panting and blowing straight up to the high admiral,—­

“My lord, my lord!  They’m coming!  I saw them off the Lizard last night!”

“Who? my good sir, who seem to have left your manners behind you.”

“The Armada, your worship—­the Spaniard; but as for my manners, ’tis no fault of mine, for I never had none to leave behind me.”

“If he has not left his manners behind,” quoth Hawkins, “look out for your purses, gentlemen all!  He’s manners enough, and very bad ones they be, when he com’th across a quiet Flushinger.”

“If I stole Flushingers’ wines, I never stole negurs’ souls, Jack Hawkins; so there’s your answer.  My lord, hang me if you will; life’s short and death’s easy ’specially to seamen; but if I didn’t see the Spanish fleet last sun-down, coming along half-moon wise, and full seven mile from wing to wing, within a four mile of me, I’m a sinner.”

“Sirrah,” said Lord Howard, “is this no fetch, to cheat us out of your pardon for these piracies of yours?”

“You’ll find out for yourself before nightfall, my lord high admiral.  All Jack Fleming says is, that this is a poor sort of an answer to a man who has put his own neck into the halter for the sake of his country.”

“Perhaps it is,” said Lord Howard.  “And after all, gentlemen, what can this man gain by a lie, which must be discovered ere a day is over, except a more certain hanging?”

“Very true, your lordship,” said Hawkins, mollified.  “Come here, Jack Fleming—­what wilt drain, man?  Hippocras or Alicant, Sack or John Barleycorn, and a pledge to thy repentance and amendment of life.”