“Thou can'st not get under way for two hours at best, sir,” he pleaded, “and well within that time I will be back. 'Tis but a stone's throw to the shore!”
But Drake first scoffed at his rashness, then, finally losing patience, as commander of the expedition he sternly forbade him or any of his men to leave the ship.
“We dare not lose the wind,” he finished emphatically, “and are like to start at any minute.” Then, turning on his heel, he strode away to his cabin and shut the door behind him.
Left in this unceremonious fashion, young Harold considered a moment, glancing with anxious eyes at the dim line of the coast just visible in the darkness. For some minutes he leaned upon the rail, lost in thought.
“The old man will e'en have to bear his disappointment,” he muttered at length, “but, an' heaven help me, the maid shall not!”
Then he, too, left the deck to seek out his favorite retainer, the dark, swarthy man who had sat that morning in the prow of the long boat. To him he explained his difficulty, adding grimly:
“And so thou see'st, Mortimer, that I have work cut out for thee!”
He threw an arm about the other's shoulders and in this familiar fashion the two men paced the deck together, conversing in low tones.
“And besides,” observed the nobleman as they paused a moment before parting, “would'st know the truth about the matter? For all old Jarvis' prating, the Golden Hind is not like to sail before the dawn, no, nor even then! Jarvis is ever the man to make a show of much hurry, but—” he snapped his fingers scornfully, “only aid me now, unseen by anyone, to launch the Zephir, and by our virgin queen herself I swear, when once again we see the shores of Merry England, thou shalt find 'twas well worth thy trouble.”
His companion smiled even while, with the trained servility of the retainer, he doffed his cap.