So after this long digression, tiresome no doubt, but essential to understanding what follows, we come back to Myles Standish and his eight men, “first-comers” all of them, pulling up their boat upon the shore at Wessagusset, just as they had done five years before. As they turned toward the path leading to the stockade, a man came hurriedly down to meet them.
“Good-morrow, Master Bursley,” cried the captain cheerfully. “We are on our way to Merry Mount, and called to tell you so.”
But Bursley held up his hand with a warning gesture, and so soon as he was near enough hoarsely muttered in unconscious plagiarism,—
“The devil’s broke loose.”
“Say you so, Bill Bursley!” responded Standish, showing all his broad white teeth. “I did not know he’d ever been in the bilboes!”
“Morton’s here at the house, full of liquor and swearing all sorts of wicked intent toward—well now, Captain, if you won’t take it amiss, I’ll tell you that he calls you Captain Shrimp!”
“Following Master Oldhame,” replied Standish carelessly. “I must marvel at the lack of sound wit at Wessagusset when so small a jest has to serve so many men. But you say this roysterer is here in your house?”
“No, in Jeffries’ house. He came this morning asking that we should return with him to Merry Mount and help him against the ‘Plymouth insolents’ as he called you.”
“And what answer did he get, Master Bursley?”