“There,” he said at last, “launch her with the sails set so and I think she will ride the waves and outdo all the rest.”
Peter, delighted, ran off to try again and Stephen turned once more to the soldier.
“And did you really see King George?” he asked, for it was of that worthy monarch that the story had to do.
“Bless you, that I did,” was the answer, “and it was not so wonderful a sight, merely a fat grey-haired man, blinking from his recent nap, and with a halting tongue that could speak no word of English. Kings and Queens are more common than they used to be, since the people of England discovered that they could dispose of them at will, and fell into the way of changing their monarchs often. Eight have I seen in my own time, eight men and women that wore the crown of England.”
“What?” exclaimed Stephen. “Eight! How could that ever be?”
“’Tis as true as that I sit here,” returned Branderby seriously. “There were Charles the Second and his Portuguese wife, Katherine; there was his brother James who reigned after him and there was that Italian Princess who became James’ Queen. Not long did he reign, poor James Stuart, for his daughter Mary and her Dutch husband, William of Orange, came across the channel and drove the last Stuart King from the throne. Those two wicked ones I have seen too, and Mary’s sister Anne, the Queen for whose death the bells were ringing upon that very day that we first met. And that German George who sits now in her place, him I saw in the Low Countries, where we fought so long a war that, when it was finally ended, scarcely any one remembered for what reason it had been begun. So there are eight English Kings and Queens that my own eyes have seen, to say nothing of a host of French dukes and marquises of the royal blood, and more German princelings than my dull wits could ever learn to count.”
“You must have had many wondrous adventures,” sighed Stephen. “I can scarcely wait until I become a man and can have them too.”
“Look, look,” Peter interrupted them again with a joyous shout. After two vain launchings, his little boat, trimmed by Stephen’s skilful hand had at last put to sea successfully and was rocking upon the waves as merrily as a duckling.
“Good,” called Sergeant Branderby, “our Stephen knows how to fashion a boat, does he not, Master Peter?”
In great excitement Peter ran off down the beach, following his boat as it drifted with the wind.