“He’d make a first-rater. He would, by Ged!”
“I should like, also, to get hold of him for another reason,” continued Scarthe, changing to a more serious tone. “We might recover the lost despatches—which, no doubt, are still in the doublet he stripped from the chicken-hearted courier. Ha! ha! ha! What a pickle we found him in! A pigeon completely plucked and trussed! Oh! how the queen will laugh when she reads my report to her. I hope she won’t tell it to the king. If she do blab, it’ll be no laughing matter for the poor devil of a messenger!”
“It won’t, by Ged!”
“Particularly if the despatches contained anything of importance. I wonder what they were about—sent so soon after us! Hope it wasn’t a countermand.”
“By Ged! I hope not.”
“I’m not tired of our country quarters just yet: and won’t be, till I’ve tried them a little longer. Rather icy these girls are, Stubbs? Don’t repine, lad. Perhaps they’ll thaw, by and by.”
“I hope so,” said Stubbs, his stolid face brightening up at the idea. “If it wasn’t for that young sop of a cousin ’twould be all right. I believe it would, by Ged!”
“Pooh! pooh! Don’t make your mind uneasy about him. It appears to be only kittenly affection that’s between them. He’s just come home, after a three years’ absence from her apron-string; and it’s natural she should like to play with him a bit. Only as a toy, Stubbs. She’ll soon tire of him, and want another. Then will be your turn, my killing cornet.”
“Do you think so, captain?”
“Think so! Sure of it. Ha! if it were my game, I shouldn’t want an easier to play. Mine’s a different affair—very different. It will require all the skill of—of Captain Scarthe to win in that quarter. Ho! Who’s there? Come in!”