At length a steady southwesterly breeze sprang up, and, with barely a hogshead of biscuit and a gallon of water aboard, the Golden Hope came in sight of Poole Harbour.
"What cheer--ho, Master Light!" exclaimed Captain Jeremy, as a weather-beaten pilot came over the side. "How fares it at home?"
"Precious little news," replied the pilot, "though they say that English beef will henceforth be flavoured with Orange."
"So?"
"Aye; they say the Dutchman hath landed at Torbay, and advanced on Exeter. In short, there are all sorts of rumours, yet I pay scant heed to them."
With the air of a man who, in the exercise of his duty, scorns to indulge in conversation, Master Light made his way aft, and under his guidance the Golden Hope threaded the tortuous channel that leads to Poole Town.
"Is it your wish to berth alongside the quay?" demanded the pilot.
"Nay, rather I would anchor in the stream," replied Captain Jeremy, mindful of the precious nature of our cargo.
"Hands shorten sail!"
Slowly the Golden Hope, with ever-decreasing way, glided abreast of the town, and with the welcome order, "Let go", the anchor plunged into the muddy waters of Poole Harbour.