“Ay, and I wot Robin Bolton shall have a clout on his head when he comes within my reach. But there, thou wilt soon be well again. Thank thee for thy help,” he added, more roughly, to Hugh.
“If you stand in need of a witness,” began Matthew, but the sailor interrupted him—
“Witnesses? No! What she stood in need of was water, which thy boy fetched. He is quick enough to be a sailor,” he added, with a laugh.
“Wilt thou come on a voyage to Dartmouth?”
“I should be frighted on the sea,” said Hugh sturdily.
“Nay, it’s not so bad, so you fall not in with pirates, which are the pest of our coasts. I’ve been lucky enough to escape them so far. But then,” he added with a wink, “they know me at Dartmouth, and folk sometimes tell evil tales of Dartmouth.”
He was of a talkative nature, or perhaps thought it well to keep his Moll quiet on his knee, for he went on to tell them that his wife and child lived near the spot where they were, while he went on trading voyages, bringing up Cornish ore from Dartmouth and carrying back other ladings. He was very proud of his vessel, and yet prouder of his little maid, whom it was plain he did his best to spoil; and when he saw that she had taken a fancy to Hugh, he told him he might come on board his vessel one day before he sailed.
“Which will be in a week,” he said, confidently. “The storms will be over by then.”
Hugh was glad enough of the bidding, for Matthew, with his love for the law courts and for all that concerned the State, was but a dry companion to an eager boy. He went back to the monastery in high glee, to tell his father all that he had heard.
Friar Luke was with Stephen, having brought his patient a decoction of coltsfoot, and also a little bunch of flowers which he was examining with enthusiastic patience.