"And I—" began Borthwick.
"Shall have two hundred crowns yearly, to be paid by the English ambassador. Ah! your eyes open like port-holes at that."
"But suppose there is no ambassador, which happens very often, Captain Howard?"
"Ah! to be sure; then the Governor of Berwick shall pay thee."
"But how are we to have this pretty maiden brought on board an English ship?" asked Howard.
"'Tis the most difficult matter of all. A dose of poison might serve us better, and obtain our ends without much trouble," suggested Borthwick.
The ruffian barons eyed each other, but did not speak.
"Nay, nay," said the gallant Howard; "by Heaven, fellow, if thou makest another suggestion such as that, I will order the boatswain's mates to fling thee overboard in a hencoop! In the king's service I have usually carried more sail than ballast—but poison! a sailor's curse on't! Egad, 'tis a word never mentioned to a Howard, and moreover," he added, with a furious glance, as he rose from the table, "'twas a villain's thought in thee!"
"Softly," said Sir Patrick Gray, with alarm; "let us not quarrel, Captain Howard, about poison or abduction; none of us are severe moralists—"
"Scot—you speak for yourself, I presume."