As we sat there two men came strolling by—two of the sailors whom we had seen in the town. One was ordinary enough, the other a not ill-favored rogue save for deep pock-marks on his face that bespoke the plague, and a roving, cunning eye that bespoke a shifty soul. These passed so close that their talk floated to us, and naught would do Ruth but that I must call them over so that she might speak to them in French. Whereat, somewhat sullenly, I obeyed, and the men strolled across the shingle to us.
"And what might you wish, pretty maid?" asked the pock-marked fellow civilly enough.
"I but wished to hear the French tongue, sir," she replied with a smile. "It is long since I have spoken it—why, what is the matter?"
For a sudden the man had given a little start, his eyes fixed on her throat. Then he stared into her eyes, and at the look of him I half gained my feet.
"Your name?" he asked quickly. "What is your name, little one?"
"What is that to you, fellow?" I made hot answer, angry at his insolence. But Ruth caught my sleeve and pulled me down.
"Nay, Davie! Why should he not know? It were but civil to speak him fair, after calling to him. My name is Ruth, Ruth MacDonald," she added in French. At this it seemed to me that the man stared harder than ever, a puzzled look in his face.
"And how come you to speak our tongue?" he said, smiling quickly, so that I lost my anger. "It is strange to find one on these coasts who speaks so well and fluently!"
Ruth replied that she had had good teachers, and after a few words more the men walked on. But I noted that the one we had spoken with flung back more than one glance, and I was glad when midday came and we made our way back to the inn to eat.
There we found my father in deep converse with Master Herries, a hearty man of some two-score years, and straightway all thought of the two seamen fled my mind. For now the talk was all of lading and cargo, of whether sheep might be fetched in the lugger and of how many persons might sail with her. My father was set on taking with us as many sheep as might be, notwithstanding Wat Herries told him there was little sheep-land in the plantations.