It was at this moment that Gilbert entered the crowd and heard his name spoken. He glanced at the boy.
"Body o' me!" he cried. "Why, 'tis young Robin Redfern of Modbury village! How comes he here?"
"Ay, 'tis Robin himself, truly," said Jacob Hartop, turning at hearing Gilbert's voice. "He hath a mind to fight for the Queen, he says, so smuggled himself aboard. Master Roland Grenville found him stowed away below, and hath now gone to inform Sir Richard. I saw the child myself on Sutton quay, ay, and spake with him, but I'd no notion that he meant to follow us on board. 'Tis foolish in him, as I have told him, for a lad so young is but an encumbrance on a ship of battle."
"Nay, but I mean to work," protested Robin. "I'll work hard. Sure there be many things I can do, Master Hartop." And then as he saw Sir Richard Grenville emerging from one of the doors at the farther end of the deck he began to cry very piteously, as though fearing that he must surely be severely punished.
"What have we here?" demanded Sir Richard.
"So please your honour, 'tis a boy," explained one of the men.
"Ay, I can well see 'tis not a horse," said the admiral; and then plying the boy with many questions, and learning that he was from Modbury, he turned to Gilbert Oglander: "Take him into your personal charge, Master Oglander," said he. "Let him be your serving-boy, or a powder-boy, or what you like; and bid the purser enter him on the ship's books. As for his mother, 'tis a pity for her that most concerns me, and I would have you inscribe a letter to her, and throw it overboard in a bottle, which may haply be picked up by some passing fishing-boat." And with that he strolled back aft towards his cabin, where he remained secluded until late on the following morning.
Now as Gilbert passed again along the deck he looked over to the land, as he had done many times already, in the hope of being able to make out the towers of Modbury Manor in the far distance. Many a time had he stood in the upper room of one of those towers to watch the ships sailing outward from Plymouth Sound, and now for the first time he hoped to reverse the process and try to discover his home from the ship's deck. It was no very easy matter, in the fading light of the evening, to identify any house so far away; but Modbury stood upon a height and was prominent enough if one knew exactly where to look for it. At last, however, he descried the topmost tower above the trees; he could even see the tall flag-staff, with the flag fluttering in the breeze. He kept his eyes fixed upon the flag for many moments, believing that it had been hoisted for his own benefit as a signal of farewell. But at last he began to realize that for some strange reason it had not been drawn fully up to the top of the staff—that indeed it had been hoisted half-mast high. And this, as he well knew, was a token of death. A pang of alarm shot through him; he felt suddenly very desolate and lonely. Again and again he turned his eyes upon the flag, hoping that he had made a mistake. As he stood there Roland Grenville passed near him.
"What, art home-sick so soon?" said he with a light laugh.