"Ay!" cried the other, seizing his hand. "Hodge Astbury I am, and right pleased to set eyes on you again, sir. But alack, alack, times is changed, and I hear tell they've hanged the Major?"
Dick nodded.
"Ay, dear, dear," meditated Astbury, in a maudlin tone of regret. "The Major, he was a fine soldier, and no mistake. I'd rather than a cup of strong waters ride behind him when fighting was toward, and see the pleasure he took in it! Seemeth, whatever the Major did, us was bound to do, whether 'twas fighting or praying; 'twas somehow catching, like as 'twas the plague. You may believe me, sir, I got afeared of keeping along o' him; he'd have turned me into a saint before I could wink. When he looked at you—why General Cromwell himself was put to it to say him nay! Aye, dear, dear, 'tis a pity."
Whether intentionally or not, the man had slipped back into his Staffordshire accent and dropped the strongest of his oaths, and Dick could not prevent a feeling of bitter amusement at seeing that this drunken ne'er-do-well, whom his uncle had persuaded to enlist in the hopes of drilling him into a decent life, had yielded to the influence of General Harrison's character just as he himself had done. But Astbury had broken loose from the charm; he himself had remained obedient till death dissolved the spell. Which of them had been the wiser—which was the better off? The fellow maundered on, taking a drink at his replenished tankard now and then.
"And seems as if times be not over good with you, Master Dick, if you'll excuse my making so bold."
"No," answered Richard, with some reserve; "I have not been altogether fortunate of late. But what has befallen you since we met last?" he continued, anxious to turn the conversation. "I think you were bound for Ireland, were you not?"
"Ay, ay, I've seen a siege or two, and a fight or two, and many a queer thing besides. Why, if I had the wit to put it all into rhyme, what I've seen would make a score of ballads! I've been across seas to Amerikey since last I clapped eyes on you, Maester Dick."
Richard hesitated to ask in what fashion Astbury had made his voyage, seeing that the usual way to dispose of thieves and vagabonds was to ship them off to the American plantations; but Astbury loved the sound of his own voice, and stretching out his legs towards the fire, took up his tale in the fashion of the professional story-teller. His history ran somewhat as follows, though it sounds bald enough without the expletives with which he garnished it, growing somewhat less shy of his Major's nephew as he went on.
"I went across seas first time along o' Lord General Cromwell to Ireland, and he gave us our bellyful of fighting, and no mistake; but it ain't fighting that I complain of, having been always held a valiant man of my inches;" and he puffed out his broad chest and looked a very crusader. "And you'll bear me out, sir, I wasn't one to call out at knocks. But here's what I complains of—'twas nothing but knocks over there. If so be you laid hands if it were but on a hen, if you 'scaped the gallows your back paid for your chicken, and as for kissing an Irish wench, they'd have hanged a colonel for doing of it! And they great woods! Now I've seen woods as is worth the seeing, chock full of monkeys and grapes and parrots and such like, but they Irish woods! Caramba! I'd sooner be hanged than set eyes on them again! So as I was saying, 'twas hard knocks and short commons and long sermons, and agues to boot; so when we come to Cork, I just turned my back on old Noll and padded the hoof to Kinsale, and there I shipped under Prince Rupert."
"I hope that suited you better," said Richard.