For it had been an awkward night with Gil Carr and his companion.
They had plunged boldly into the Pool, finding it at the side come up to mid-thigh, and the bottom sandy; but before they had cautiously proceeded far, taking care that the water did not splash, it became shallower, and Gil asked old Wat in a whisper whether they were not too near the shore.
“No,” was the reply; “I know the Pool well; this shallow runs right across. I’ve seen the shoals of little fish sunning themselves here by the thousand till some evil-minded pirate of a luce has darted amongst them and scattered them like a silver fleet in the Spanish main. You follow me, skipper, and let me lead thee for once in thy life.”
“You were disobeying my orders, Wat,” said Gil, in a low whisper, as he followed his lieutenant. “What were you doing in Master Cobbe’s garden?”
“Courting. Thank God for the ability to court!” growled Wat.
“You dare to own it to my face!”
“Nay, thou’rt behind my back,” growled Wat; “but I own it all the same. Where would’st have been if I had not said to myself, ‘there’s that pretty little soul Janet longing to see me once again, and as it’s loving—night, and the skipper’s courting the mistress, faith I’ll go and court the maid?’”
“After I had forbidden it, Wat!”
“I am a man, all a man, good Captain Gilbert Carr, and I say thank God for the ability to love, and liking to taste sweet lips.”
“Thou arrant old coxcomb,” cried Gil, angrily. “Why thou art woman mad!”