“I say, will you sell this?”

“Yea, marry, or my own soul, if I can get the worth of it.”

“I want the horn,—­I don’t want your soul; it’s somewhat of a stale sole, for aught I know; and there are plenty of fresh ones in the bay.”

And therewith, after much fumbling, he pulled out a tester (the only one he had), and asked if that would buy it?

“That! no, nor twenty of them.”

The boy thought over what a good knight-errant would do in such case, and then answered, “Tell you what:  I’ll fight you for it.”

“Thank ’ee, sir!

“Break the jackanapes’s head for him, Yeo,” said Oxenham.

“Call me jackanapes again, and I break yours, sir.”  And the boy lifted his fist fiercely.

Oxenham looked at him a minute smilingly.  “Tut! tut! my man, hit one of your own size, if you will, and spare little folk like me!”

“If I have a boy’s age, sir, I have a man’s fist.  I shall be fifteen years old this month, and know how to answer any one who insults me.”

“Fifteen, my young cockerel? you look liker twenty,” said Oxenham, with an admiring glance at the lad’s broad limbs, keen blue eyes, curling golden locks, and round honest face.  “Fifteen?  If I had half-a-dozen such lads as you, I would make knights of them before I died.  Eh, Yeo?”

“He’ll do,” said Yeo; “he will make a brave gamecock in a year or two, if he dares ruffle up so early at a tough old hen-master like the captain.”

At which there was a general laugh, in which Oxenham joined as loudly as any, and then bade the lad tell him why he was so keen after the horn.

“Because,” said he, looking up boldly, “I want to go to sea.  I want to see the Indies.  I want to fight the Spaniards.  Though I am a gentleman’s son, I’d a deal liever be a cabin-boy on board your ship.”  And the lad, having hurried out his say fiercely enough, dropped his head again.

“And you shall,” cried Oxenham, with a great oath; “and take a galloon, and dine off carbonadoed Dons.  Whose son are you, my gallant fellow?”

“Mr. Leigh’s, of Burrough Court.”

“Bless his soul!  I know him as well as I do the Eddystone, and his kitchen too.  Who sups with him to-night?”

“Sir Richard Grenville.”

“Dick Grenville?  I did not know he was in town.  Go home and tell your father John Oxenham will come and keep him company.  There, off with you!  I’ll make all straight with the good gentleman, and you shall have your venture with me; and as for the horn, let him have the horn, Yeo, and I’ll give you a noble for it.”

“Not a penny, noble captain.  If young master will take a poor mariner’s gift, there it is, for the sake of his love to the calling, and Heaven send him luck therein.”  And the good fellow, with the impulsive generosity of a true sailor, thrust the horn into the boy’s hands, and walked away to escape thanks.