"Lying in Polperro Bay," answered Timothy, "where we dropped anchor but a half-dozen hours since. Master Whiddon and my Lord Champernoun—Master Gilbert Oglander that was—have come with me into Plymouth, and bade me beseech thee to come with me to the sign of the Crown, where they now are, and where we are presently to sit down to the lordliest banquet mine host can provide. So get thee ready instanter, while that I go within to see my mother and don some goodlier raiment."
"Nay, but I cannot leave my business at this hour of the day," objected Peter.
At which Timothy laughed and said:
"Hark ye, father, and listen to me. Thou hast cropped thy last head of hair and shaven thy last chin. No more work shalt thou do for the rest of thy days. Thou shalt have a coach to drive in, and a lordly mansion to live in, with a tribe of serving people to do thy bidding, and shalt live on the best in the land—"
"Nay, mock me not, boy," cried the barber. "I can ill bear thy jests just now; for of a truth I am deep in debt, and know not how we shall contrive to live without charity beyond another week."
"A truce to your charity," cried Tim. "Hark'ee, father, I am rich. Ay, rich as a king." He plunged his hands into his pockets and scattered many golden coins upon the chair near which he stood. "These be but a few trifles that have slipped into my pockets unawares, and are but a small sample of the Pilgrim's cargo. If more be needed for the nonce, thou hast but to send a cart round to Polperro and get more. But bear this in mind, good my father, thou shalt shut up shop for good and all, and never again shall thine ears be assailed by the snipping of barber's scissors or the fizzling of curling-tongs!"
Now this that Timothy promised did actually come to pass. Nor was Peter Trollope the only one in Plymouth who enjoyed some benefit from the treasures of The Golden Galleon. Every man and boy of the ship's company of the Pilgrim received his proportionate share of the wealth, while Captain Whiddon—without whom Timothy and Gilbert might never have returned to England—received only less than Gilbert and Timothy.
The Pilgrim had not been large enough to hold all the treasure that The Golden Galleon had contained, not even although her very ballast had been jettisoned to make more room. But when she had been loaded with as much as she could safely carry, she had been brought home as quickly as the winds would drive her. What became of the old derelict, whether she sank to the bottom as a consequence of the shots that were fired into her hull by the departing Pilgrim, or whether she remained afloat long enough for yet another ship to board her and take toll of her remaining treasure, Gilbert Oglander and his companions never learned. But, judging by circumstances, it is pretty certain that she sank to the bottom, and that, as Jacob Hartop had expressed it, her treasures went down to the mermaid's halls, where her precious gems might serve to bedeck the mermaid's necks.
It was on the third day after the return of the Pilgrim that Gilbert Oglander—or, as we may now call him, Lord Champernoun—rode along the familiar lanes to Modbury. He had thus delayed his home-coming because he had heard that his mother and Drusilla were still absent. But on this morning Christopher Pym had come to him and told him that they had returned, and were expecting him.
Timothy rode in his company, not now as his squire but as his companion, for it was as companions and loving friends that they were always afterwards to regard each other.