"Why, what ailed you?"
"A dream, sir. Do 'ee believe as dreams come true? My old grandam was wont to say they go by contraries; dream of a weddin', she would say, sure there would be a funeral. And she was a wise woman; ay, sure."
"I know not, Amos. We read in Scripture of dreams that most wondrously came true. 'Twas in a dream that Solomon asked of God an understanding heart, the which was promised to him with riches, and honour, and length of days; and Solomon lived long in the land, and became the richest and wisest of kings. Scripture was written for our instruction, Amos, and I would liever believe in Holy Writ than in the old wives' tales of a score of grandams. But what then was your dream?"
"Why, sir, if it be not sin to speak it, I was standing alone in a waste place, and on a sudden the voice of Tom Copstone spoke out of the air, and said, 'You and me, Haymoss; you and me, my heart!' And while I was wondering in my simple mind what those words might mean, there was a thick smoke, and a roar as of thunder, and I stood dazed, and the fear came upon me. And then the smoke lifted, and I saw old Tom with 's head all bloody, and Hugh Curder behind him, and behind him again I saw you, sir, and Ned Whiddon, and, God a-mercy! my very own self, as I ha' seen myself time and again in the glass, but sore battered and misused. And I thought sure 'twas my ghost, and the fear of it woke me up, and I rose all panting and trembling, and cried to 'ee, and when there was no answer I broke into a sweat, remembering my grandam's words."
"Well, 'tis all safe. I also have had a dream, Amos, and yet I did not sleep. And 'tis to tell you my dream I am here now. Mayhap it will fit yours; God in His mercy send that both yours and mine come true!"
CHAPTER XI
The Main
The dawn of day found Dennis and Turnpenny discussing the scheme which was born of the night's meditation. Remembering his bitter experience of bondage among the Spaniards, and oppressed by his superstitious fear that his dream portended some calamity, the sailor at first refused point-blank to consider Dennis's suggestion. But by and by, when Dennis had shown him how light had been his sufferings, after all, by comparison with those of his comrades, and had declared his belief that the strange coincidence of the dream with his own imaginings was an augury of good, Turnpenny's better feelings got the upper hand of his timorousness, and he threw himself with ardour into a consideration of the project.
As soon as it was light, he asked Dennis to lead him to the very spot where the idea had occurred to him. And there, in the little bay beneath the chine, he became the bold-hearted English sailor again.