"With red crosses in their topsails?" asked Falconer.
"The same."
"'Tis Howard!" exclaimed Sir Andrew Wood, striking his hands together with joy; "let us unmoor, and be off, lest we miss them again. Farewell, your grace and lordships—come, Davie Falconer, and thou, too, Barton; let us go."
"You will take one cup of wine ere you leave us, admiral," said Angus.
"I crave leave to be excused," said Wood; "I have drunk many a pot of wine here with my auld messmate, Andrew Barton; but I will never bend a bicker with those who are in arms against his master—for had puir Andrew been alive, he had stood by my side to-day; so let us bear away, then—the sky is clear, as the saw saith,
'When the clouds spread like a feather,
Mariner look for fair gude weather.'
We'll sight these Englishmen to-night, and overhaul them before morning."
Glad to be rid of one whose loyalty and inflexible truth were likely to prove troublesome, and perhaps infectious, the barons in reality cared very little whether Sir Andrew vanquished the English or was sunk by them; for, like true Scottish peers, the national honour to them was nothing when conflicting with their own private ends. As the three kingsmen left the house, they saw two ladies at one of the lower windows waving their handkerchiefs through the basketted grating, careless whether pages, grooms, or men-at-arms observed them. These were Sybilla and Euphemia Drummond. For a minute the lovers loitered to exchange a word and glance.
"Thou art welcome, thrice welcome to my father's house, Lady Effie," said Barton; "and one day I hope to see its porch bedecked with white garlands in thine honour, when coming home as its lawful mistress; but that must be when the tide of fortune turns, for sorely hath it now set in against the loyal and true; so we, dear Effie, must thole it with the others. I see how the land lies still with the old lord, thy father; but we'll weather the reefs yet, please God, Effie."
Poor Falconer could only kiss the soft white hand of Sybilla, and give her one deep and sorrowful glance, when Lord Home, who would gladly have fallen on him, sword in hand, but for the safety of their hostages, came furiously forward, and the two lovers hurried after the admiral, who was impatiently waiting for them at the outer gate.