"Cock," says Bym reproachfully, and setting a goodly cheese on the table with a bang, "say free-trader, cock—t'other 'un's a cackling word and I don't like cackle—"
"Aye," nodded Godby, "that's the word, 'free-trader,' Mart'n. So I am and what then? 'Twas summat o' the sort as got me suspicioned by Gregory and his catchpolls, rot 'em." But here Adam entered, very soberly dressed in sad-coloured clothes, and we sat down to sup forthwith.
"Do we sail soon, Captain?" questioned Godby in a while.
"I hope to be clear o' the Downs a few days hence," says Adam.
"And you so short-handed, Cap'n," quoth Bym.
"Sir Rupert hath 'listed thirty new men, I hear, and rogues every one I'll be sworn."
"Sir Rupert—?" says I.
"My lady's cousin, Martin, and captain of the expedition."
"Is he a sailor, Adam?"
"No, Martin, like most o' your fine gentlemen-adventurers, he knows no more of navigation than this cheese, which is just as well, Martin, aye, mighty well!"