Gervase slept soundly that night on board the Phoenix, and in the morning the mate insisted on his making use of his shore-going suit, into which Gervase was able to get with some difficulty. When he came on deck the day was bright and cloudless, with a warm sweet air blowing from the north-west and the sea hardly broken by a ripple. The ships lay at anchor near them; the Dartmouth with her rows of guns showing through the open ports; beyond lay the Swallow and a little further away the Mountjoy, both of which vessels Gervase had seen before.
But his first glance was toward the city lying far up the river, and he was filled with joy when he caught sight of the crimson flag still flying from the Cathedral Tower.
The master was early astir and met Gervase on the deck, with his red face freshly shaven and clad in his best suit which had been brought out for the occasion. He was very contrite over his last night´s potations, and made many polite inquiries as to how his guest had passed the night. The anxiety of Gervase to be put on board the Swallow to deliver his message to Kirke, was so great that he could hardly restrain his impatience during the breakfast to which the master and himself sat down together. But they had assured him that the Colonel had not slept off the fumes of his last night´s excesses, and that of all men he was the least approachable in the morning. It was necessary to find Kirke in good humour; so Gervase stifled his impatience, though his feelings were so strong and so bitter that he doubted whether a less fitting messenger than himself could have been found for his errand.
“Ye´ll just tell him your plain story like a plain man,” said the mate, “and leave the rest in the hands of the Almighty. I know ye´ll find it hard to shorten sail, but ´tis the only way ye´ll make the port after all.”
“I don´t understand the matter at all,” Gervase answered. “Here am I with a message to yon sluggard that should make his ears tingle for the duty he has neglected and the days he has wasted in useless waiting. One would think ´twas a favour I was begging at his hands. When His Majesty hears----”
“Tut, man, His Majesty--God bless him! will never come to know the rights of it. Just put your pride in your pocket and take as a favour--when ye get it--what should come to you by right. I don´t see myself that the thing is as easy as ye make it. A ship´s timbers are dainty enough, and yon boom´s an ugly sort of thing; not to speak of the cannon in the forts and the channel--that´s ticklish at the best of times.”
“When a kingdom´s at stake, one might run a little danger without being foolhardy.”
“I´m not saying that he mightn´t and I would willingly try it myself if I had the chance, but you must make allowances. I hear they had a parson aboard there the other day who gave them some plain speech and got a flea in his ear for his pains. Fair and softly will carry for many a mile. I´ll go with you myself and maybe put in a good word if I can. The boats are ready and we´ll be alongside in a twinkling.”
As they rowed towards the Swallow, which carried Kirke´s flag, Gervase´s mind was full of the way in which he should deliver his message, while Douglas sat beside him pouring his homely counsel into his ear. It was evident that the latter stood in no little dread of the commander who had won for himself an unenviable notoriety for cruelty and severity, and was clearly doubtful of the reception that awaited an envoy who knew so little regarding the character of the man with whom he had to deal. But Gervase had determined that if all else failed he would speak out his mind without any fear of the consequences. He had not undertaken this perilous journey and faced so many dangers to shrink from plain speech if that would serve his purpose.