“Rose Salterne, the mayor's daughter, the Rose of Torridge!”
“That's her. Bless your dear soul, what ails you?”
Amyas had dropped back in his seat as if he had been shot; but he recovered himself before kind Mrs. Hawkins could rush to the cupboard for cordials.
“You'll forgive me, madam; but I'm weak from the sea; and your good ale has turned me a bit dizzy, I think.”
“Ay, yes, 'tis too, too heavy, till you've been on shore a while. Try the aqua vitae; my Captain John has it right good; and a bit too fond of it too, poor dear soul, between whiles, Heaven forgive him!”
So she poured some strong brandy and water down Amyas's throat, in spite of his refusals, and sent him to bed, but not to sleep; and after a night of tossing, he started for Bideford, having obtained the means for so doing from Mrs. Hawkins.
CHAPTER XIV
HOW SALVATION YEO SLEW THE KING OF THE GUBBINGS
“Ignorance and evil, even in full flight, deal terrible backhanded
strokes at their pursuers.”—HELPS.