"Nought but a stowaway rogue, Sir Rupert, and one beknown to me in England."
"Ha!" says Sir Rupert, stroking a curl of his great peruke, "How cometh he brawling with the watch?"
"Look'ee, my masters," cried the red-headed fellow (gasping and making great to-do of gurgling and clasping his throat where I had squeezed him) "look'ee, sirs, at my bloody face—all bloodied I be and nigh done for by yon murdering rogue. Here's me on my watch and no thought o' harm, and suddenly out o' nowhere he takes him and grips me from behind and would ha' murdered me as he murdered t'others!"
"Ha!" cried Sir Rupert, "The man reeks blood, observe, Master Penfeather, and here's grave charge beside!"
Now as I leaned there against the mast I saw a figure flit down the quarter-ladder and fain would have fled, yet seeing this vain, hung my head and cowered in a very agony of mortified pride.
"And you know this man, you say, Master Adam?" questioned Sir Rupert.
"Aye I do, sir, for a desperate fellow, and so doth my Lady Brandon—and yourself also."
"Ha? Bring him forward where I may get look of him." The which being done, Sir Rupert starts back with sword-point raised.
"By heaven!" he cried, "How cometh this fellow aboard?"
"A stowaway as I said, sir," quoth Adam. "You mind him very well, it seemeth."