“Give me a kiss, little one,” he said softly.
A wave of cold water seemed to dash over Anny’s pleasure and she drew her arm away stiffly, saying, “Prithee, sir, I would return to the Ship.”
Again the curious smile spread over Dick’s lips but this time there was no regret.
“Pardon, mistress, methinks thy beauty and mine own singing hath made my brain whirl. Prithee, prithee, fair one, give me thy hand again.”
Anny looked at him and held out her hand without a word. He seemed so debonair, so gracious, such a fine gentleman, and his soft eyes sought hers almost beseechingly, she thought.
“Ann! oh! Ann of the Island
Where is another like Ann of the Isle?”
sang the company as the little procession neared the waterside.
Sue, who walked between French and Cip de Musset, looked at the two small figures and sighed involuntarily. She also thought the Spaniard was a fine gentleman and she also had seen his dark eyes fixed mournfully on the other girl’s face, and she began to laugh and talk noisily to hide her vexation.
Gallantly Black’erchief Dick led the little serving-wench down over the planked way to the rowboat, helped her in, and then stepped lightly after her. Several of the company crowded in behind them and they pushed off. The rest of the band seized other boats that were anchored near the shore and followed as best they could.
Once on board the brig, Anny looked about her with delight; the shrouded sails and spiderweb-like rigging pleased her immensely; the swinging lanterns overhead showed the clean boards and newly painted sides, and she laughed with satisfaction as she noted first one thing and then another.