CHAPTER XXXIX
HOW THEY WARNED CAPTAIN SHARKIE NYE
Dusk was falling as Sir John paused beside the old cross whose worn base chanced to be propping divers and sundry brawny backs: Mr. Muddle leaned there side by side with Mr. Pursglove; there also were Messrs. Godby, Unstead and Comfort, each and all of whom seemed extremely wide awake and more than usually talkative notwithstanding the pervading drowsiness of the warm, stilly air.
“G’d evenin’, Mus’ Derwent; tur’ble waarm it do ha’ been to-day sure-lye,” quoth Mr. Muddle.
“Though theer was a bit o’ wind stirrin’ ’bout ’leven o’clock ’s marnin’,” added Mr. Pursglove.
“Aye, but it doied awaay it did, afore twalve,” said Mr. Godby.
“Rackon my peas’ll do naun good ’appen it doan’t rain,” opined Mr. Comfort.
And yet Sir John knew instinctively that it was neither to discuss the unusual heat of the weather nor Mr. Comfort’s languishing peas that had brought them hither in murmurous conclave.
And surely it was no very extraordinary sight to behold Parson Hartop ambling up the street on his plump steed, even though Mr. Pym strode at his stirrup, and yet the four worthies seemed vaguely uneasy none the less.
Reaching the cross, Mr. Hartop drew rein and Mr. Pym, grounding the long musket he carried, wiped perspiring brow.