"Yet shall he not hinder me from the performance of my duty. No man shall say that Giles Brent is a coward."
"No fear that any man will ever say that. Let none have cause to say that the Lieutenant-General, Admiral, Chancellor, Keeper of the Great Seal, Chief Captain, Magistrate, and Commander of the Province forgot the sacredness of trust involved in all these offices and ran risks. Do not drive me to say what risks; but believe me when I say that I know my brother well, and I know he would stop at nothing,—even to the carrying off of an officer of the King. He is mad, fairly mad, over his treatment at St. Mary's yonder."
Brent frowned, shook his head, and hesitated as if uncertain what course to pursue, then he gave the helm to Ingle entirely, saying,—
"You are right. It is hard to draw the line betwixt cowardice and caution; but in Calvert's absence I have no right to run risks."
Still in the distance hovered the two phantom ships gray against the universal grayness, yet dimly discernible, the smaller boat settling lower and lower like some despairing animal feeling death near at hand yet struggling to the last.
"It is the end," said Ralph Ingle. "The man is drowned, and his boat is sunk. Whatever he has done, he has made the fullest atonement man can make."
"Yes," said Brent, uncovering his head. "I think that we have seen the end of this unhappy business. A life has been given for a life. The judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether."
Ralph Ingle bowed his head as one too much moved for words.
Silently they drifted shoreward and still silently clewed up the sail and tied the boat to the dock. Once more Brent held out his hand. "You have proved yourself a tried and trusty comrade this day, and if you have aught to ask of me, be sure I stand ready to grant it."