"Dost think we will have a fair day for the battle to-morrow; for the rain so bedevils our gun-matches."
"Fair—I think so," said Barton, looking at the starry sky. "As Archy the boatswain says—
"When the mist takes to the German sea,
Fair weather, shipmate, it will be;
But when the mist rolls owre the land,
The rain comes pouring off the sand;"
so the mist took to the sea this morning. And now, shipmate of mine, what errand brings thee to the Craigward to-night?"
"A message from the Duke of Montrose to the admiral."
"Well, and what is his grace's desire?"
"That, as we have, perhaps more chance of being vanquished than victorious on the morrow, he will keep his boats along the shore here, to take off all fugitives and wounded men, and so provide a safe retreat for the king, who in case of reverse (which God avert!) will be conveyed by faithful friends this way."
"So James retreats this way!" said the lurker overhead.
"And how shall we know him?" asked Barton.
"By the Lord Lindesay's famous grey horse, which he is to ride on the morrow, and by a yellow plume in his helmet."