“Yes, speak out, mon brave, some of us will understand you—diable n’importe! What is it?”
“Ye can comprenay or not, but—odds bobs!—Nay, Jem, I’ll say what I like. There may be traitors among us; but, ventre blue! I’m a free sailor of Queen Bess and fear no scut of a Spaniard as ever twisted a thumb-screw. The marrow-bones o’ the best ha’ kissed the dust this many a time. An’ will again for English an’ French, from this to Floridy an’ back agin.”
Some of the more timid in the crowd looked around half-fearfully and a warning “Sh!” came from the throats of some.
But Goddard was not to be daunted. He took a swig from his pot and raised his voice,
“Ye’ve started me now an’ hear me out, ye shall, ye maidens ye! To hell with Philip! I’ll tell ye why. Because there is money to be got in Spanish ships. One day soon Jem an’ me will sprinkle, not—hic—coppers, but gold, lads! Why, the San Cristobal had more gold than ye’ll find this side o’ Hesper-hades, with all ye’r talk o’ Floridy. The devil a better berth do we want than the Griffin. Master Davy Devil—hic—can smell the gold ten leagues at sea. An’ so, here’s that every—French—hic—captain may have the luck of Davy Devil!”
Here a whisp of a youth got up, drunk and quarrelsome.
“Monsieur, the sailor,” he said, “you speak—much of gold. You have—hic—captured many ships. Why therefore do we drink s-sack?”
Goddard put his hands to his hips and glared down at the boy. First his brows met and he did not know what to say. Then, as the humor struck him, he burst into a laugh.
“We drink sack because ’tis good for the entrails of hairy men. An’ till you grow a beard, me son, ’tis plain enough suet should do for you. But, ’twas a fair question. We drink—hic—sack because we have no gold. But wait! Wait all of ye another day or so an’ I promise the rarest in France to run down ye’re throats. Why, lads,—hic—Captain Sydney Killigrew hath upon his person in jewels the finest—hic—belt o’ treasure in all France, that——”