Then, stowing the necklace carefully away in his belt, he went at once in search of the commander.
But at this point an unexpected difficulty had presented itself. He found Sir Francis in close conversation with his pilot.
“Marry, Sir, an it fit n'er so ill with thy wish,” the keen-eyed old mariner was saying. “I still maintain it were a shame to lose this wind. Gift or no gift, I've sailed these latitudes before, my lord, and by heaven I swear we're not like to have such another breeze, no, not till the change of the moon, and that you know yourself, sir, is a good fortnight hence.”
Sir Francis, striding back and forth within the narrow confines of the quarter deck, appeared to be weighing the old man's words with unusual care. At length, however, he turned as one who has made his decision.
“By the mass and it shall be even as you say, Jarvis,” he declared. “I think myself 'twere well to push on at once. At the most they be but Indians!” The last words were spoken in a lower tone as if to himself. “'Twill matter little either way!”
It was at this point that young Harold stepped hastily forward. For, strangely enough, although on the morning of that same day such a proceeding would scarcely have appealed to him as being at all unfitting or out of the ordinary, yet now it seemed unthinkable.
“But, good sir,” he interrupted, “you would not so belie your promise! To do as Jarvis here advises,—by heaven, 'twould be neither truthful nor honorable! 'Tis not like you, Sir Francis!”
Drake shot at him a surprised glance from under his bushy eyebrows, then shrugged his shoulders.
“Prate not to me, my lord, of truth or honor amongst these savages,” he replied. “Did not their chief himself but even now lie to me? Well knew the rascally heathen where the Spaniard hides! The truth indeed! They know not the meaning of such words.”
In vain the younger man petitioned to be allowed to deliver the promised gift with the aid of his own retinue.