“Right good Oporto, that, Senhor Captain?” he remarked. “’Twill cheer thy noble heart, I promise thee, under the mishap you mariners have incurred. Truly, my Lord Marquis, the Admiral, died at an ill time.”
Hildebrand’s heart beat quick as, without risking an inquiry, he thus learned that the renowned Admiral of the armada was no more.
“I question much,” he said, in reply to mine host, “an’ his successor will be his equal.”
“’Tis the common report,” returned mine host, “for though my Lord Duke, to be sure, hath served in the wars”—
“What duke, I prithee?” asked Hildebrand, somewhat off his guard.
Mine host looked surprised. “What! art thou in Lisbon,” he cried, “and know’st not who hath been commissioned Lord Admiral?”
“By my troth,” cried Hildebrand, laughing, “an’ I knew it, good Senhor host, I would not require to ask news of thee. But, to speak sooth, I am but just come to Lisbon, designing, with my fair brother here, to offer for the armada as volunteers.”
“Truly, then, thou art but in the nick of time,” rejoined mine host; “for the armada weighs for England to-morrow.”
“To-morrow?” cried Hildebrand. “Surely, no!”
“’Twas notified to-day by proclamation,” said mine host.