Deprived of her head-sails, the crayer immediately proved unmanageable; and the stranger, spreading his broad canvass more fully to the breeze, soon sheered ahead, and backing his fore-yard with an air of considerable seamanship, lay too across the bows of the Skottefruin.
Poor Hans now with dismay beheld a great foreign banner displayed; but though he knew it not, Konrad immediately recognised the cheverons and lions of Bothwell, and he perceived that the figure on the bow was the Earl's coroneted crest, a white horse's-head, with a gilded bridle; and one glance at the lofty sides, the grim cannon tier, and gigantic poop of the Scottish frigate, and her gunnels lined by pikemen and arquebusiers in their steel caps and coats-of-mail, sufficed to shew him that he was again completely in the power of his ancient enemy; though by what miracle he, who, when they left the Forth, seemed to have all Scotland prostrate under his hand, should thus again be a cruiser in the Scandinavian seas, he could not comprehend.
A small boat was lowered with a plash into the water; a tall man in dark armour, whose weight nearly overset it, dropped into it, and six seamen, armed with whingers and jedwood axes, followed, and immediately pushed off towards the vessel of the terrified Norwegian skipper, who stood as usual with his hands stuffed into his chocolate-coloured breeches, his Elsinore cap pulled over his bushy brows, his teeth set hard, and desperation in his eyes, viewing the approach of this armed and unknown enemy.
The dark knight put a foot on one of the forechain-plates, grasped the rattlins, and vaulted on board with singular agility, considering the bulk of his frame and the weight of his armour.
"Cock and pie!" he exclaimed, as he threw up his visor, and recognised both Konrad and Hans. "I find myself among acquaintances here."
"And what want ye now, Sir Knight?" said Konrad, as he threateningly grasped a handspike, the first and only weapon that lay at hand; "and how dare ye to bend cannon on a ship of the Danish king, within the Norwegian seas?"
"To the first question, Master Konrad," replied Ormiston, with mock deliberation, "as to what we want, I reply, a sight of this good skipper's invoice, for we mightily lack various things since our repulse before the harbour of Kirkwall, and an examination thereof will save us much trouble in overhauling a cargo which may consist of nought else than hazel-wands and wheel-barrows. To the second—as to why we dared to bend our cannon against thee, thou hadst better ask my Lord the Earl of Bothwell—nay, I mean James, Duke of Orkney, who dare do just whatever pleaseth himself on the land, and I see no reason why he should curb his frolicsome fancies on the open sea. By St. Paul! skipper, thou hast the very gloom of a Nordland bear; but bring up thy jar of hollands—let us drink and be friends, and then I will examine thine invoice, for I love not trifling, and lack time."
This formidable knight had all the air of a man who was to be obeyed; the unhappy Hans produced his round and capacious leathern bottle of Dutch gin, of which Ormiston, who had seated himself upon a culverin, drank a deep draught, and then handed the remainder to his boat's crew.
"Now, sirrah, for thine invoice of the victual under these hatches; for we lack nought else."
From a tin case, concealed in the breast of his rough doublet, Hans, with trembling fingers, produced from among several others a small piece of parchment. Ormiston adjusted his steel glove, unfolded the invoice, and, after viewing it in various ways, handed it to Konrad, saying—