"You seem to find it a pleasant task."
"By heaven, I do, sir!" cried the soldier fiercely. "I am a gentleman born, of the proudest family in the Old Dominion, and have been forced to bow and scrape and endure your insults and commands, you bloody villain, but now——"
"'Tis no part of a soldier's duty, sir, to insult a prisoner," interrupted Morgan, not without a certain dignity. He was striving to gain time to digest this surprising piece of news and thinking deeply what was to be done in this entirely unexpected crisis.
"Curse it all, Hawxherst!" Ensign Bradley burst out, pulling at the sleeve of his superior. "You go too far, man; this is unseemly."
Hawxherst passed his hand across his brow and by an effort somewhat regained his self-control.
"Natheless 'tis in this paper writ that you are to go to England a prisoner on the Mary Rose, to await the King's pleasure," he added, savagely.
"His Gracious Majesty hath laid his sword upon my shoulder. I am a knight of his English court, one who has served him well upon the seas. His coffers have I enriched by—but let that pass. I do not believe that King Charles, God bless him——"
"Stop! The Mary Rose brings the news that King Charles II. is dead, and there reigns in his stead His Gracious Majesty King James."
"God rest the soul of the King!" cried Morgan, lifting his hat from his head. "He was a merry and a gallant gentleman. I know not this James. How if I do not go with you?"
"You have ten minutes in which to decide, sir," answered Hawxherst.