"Alas, then, you may have no share in the fight," said Hugh with studied indifference.
Ralph interrupted a leisurely stretch to glance sharply upward at his master.
"A fight, say you? Certes, Messer Hugh, you are jesting."
"Never a jest."
"What manner of fight can men have out on this wobbly water that will not let a body stand steady on the two legs under him?" returned Ralph sceptically.
"If you would but stand on those two legs of yours, you might see the beginning of such a fight," answered Hugh.
His curiosity at last aroused, Ralph caught hold of a piece of rigging beside him and made shift to struggle to his knees.
"I see no fight," he complained. "There is naught but another devil's machine like to this bouncing over the water."
"Ay, Ralph, and 'tis full of hairy blackamoors and bloody Saracens with a mind to cut your heart out."
"Saracens, Messer Hugh? What do they hereabouts?"