“Nay, that I will not,” cried the other.  “By the Lord, I forgot thy conscience, good Dick.  Well, I have enough from my ancestors of Plymouth to forswear and forswear again, and yet have some to spare.  I—­I will go to my Lady Culpeper with the tale and save thy soul thy scruples, and thy ears the melody of her tongue.  I will acquaint her with the miscarriage of the goods, and whisper of the sick sailor, and all thou hast to do is to loiter about Jamestown, keeping thy Bridget well in mind the while, and load thy ship with the produce of the soil which the beggars of Virginia give of their loyalty to His Majesty King Charles, and then to take on board my Lord Culpeper and set sail.”

“’Tis a fearful risk,” groaned the other, “though I am a poor man, and I will admit that my Bridget—­”

“’Tis a fearful risk for you, Captain Tabor, and through you for my mistress,” I interrupted, for I did not half like the plan.

“Our ships lay alongside, and I am hailed by a brother mariner in distress both at the prospect of the displeasure of a great and noble lady and the suspicion of his honesty; but for that latter will I vouch with my own, and, if needs be, will give surety that the list of goods which she ordered shall be delivered next voyage,” said Calvin Tabor.

“Her tongue, you know not her tongue,” groaned the other.

“Even that will I dare for thee, Dick, for thee and that fair little maid who is dabbling her pretty fingers in that flaming pudding with which only the tough ones of a man should meddle,” said Captain Tabor.  “And as for risk for me, my sailormen be as much in the toils for Sabbath-breaking as their captain, should yesterday’s work leak out; and not a man of them knoweth the contents of those cases, though, faith, and I heard them marvelling among themselves at the weight of feathers and silken petticoats, and I made port in the night-time before, and not a soul knew of it nor the unlading, save those which be bound to keep the secret for their own necks, and, and—­well, Captain Tabor be not averse to somewhat of risk; it gives a savour to life.”  So saying, he rolled his bright-blue eyes at me and Captain Watson with such utter good-nature and dare-deviltry as I have never seen equalled.

It was finally agreed that Captain Tabor’s plan should be carried out, and I wended my way back to Drake Hill with a feeling of triumph, to which I of late years had been a stranger.  I know of nothing in the poor life of a man equal to that great delight of being of service to one beloved.

I reflected with such ever-increasing joy that it finally became an ecstasy, and I could almost, it seemed, see the colours of it in my path; how, had it not been for me, Mary Cavendish might have been in sore straits; and I verily believe I was as happy for the time as if she had been my promised sweetheart and was as proud of myself.