When the midsummer dawn chased the moonbeams from off the water, we had reached Battersea, on a fast failing tide. Before we reached Lambeth, the stream was turning against us; and it needed all the strength of our arms after that to make headway. Yet how could we tire? She never drooped the livelong night, nor, when she perceived what vigour her music lent to our rowing, did she weary of chanting to us. Keeping close under the marshy southern bank to escape the current, we slowly made our way, till we came at length within sight of the Bridge.
Then ensued a toil beside which the labours of the night were as nothing; for the angry tide swirled fiercely through the narrow way, threatening, when we approached it, to drive us back up stream. Yet, by dint of much effort and clinging to the piles, and, more than all, Ludar’s notable exploits with the oars, we won through at last.
The first sound that met our ears was a cheery “Yeo-ho!” somewhere near, and looking up, I saw the Frenchman, with the Queen’s flag at his mast-head, making ready, so soon as the tide turned, to weigh anchor and drop seaward.
He looked over at us doubtfully, as we hailed him and came alongside; but when he saw me and heard what was in the wind, he lowered his ladder and had us up into the ship.
He was a poor man, he said, and his ship ill-fitted for so brave a company; yet if we misliked not his price, and the ladies would put up with the rest, why, then, he would take us.
Then the maiden told him to make himself easy about the price. She had wherewithal to satisfy him on that score. Whereupon the Frenchman grew monstrous civil and bade her consider the ship as her own; while as for Ludar and the serving man and me, what we lacked in money, said he, he would take out of us in work. This suited us well, and the business was settled.
As it wanted two hours yet to the turn of the tide, I begged my new captain’s leave, while we waited, to take the boat in which we had come to where it would be restored to its rightful owner. The Frenchman agreed, not without difficulty; “For,” said he, “so soon as the tide gives, I must weigh anchor, with you, or without you. Nevertheless, if you must go, go.”
Ludar, too, dissuaded me from venturing. But the maiden said: “Why hinder him, Sir Knight? Humphrey is no child that he cannot be trusted; and to prove it, my friend,” said she, drawing forth her purse, “as you return, pray buy me a large warm cloak for my good old nurse, who is ill used to the sea and is shivering already. Spend what you need, and bring me back the rest.”
The purse was a heavy one, and I wondered at her freak in trusting it all to me, when one piece from it would have sufficed. However, it was not for me to question her; so, promising to be back in good time, I let myself down to the boat, and rowed lustily to the steps below the Bridge. I durst not venture further citywards where I was known; but I remembered my old enemy, Will Peake on the Bridge, and resolved to commit the boat to his care, knowing him for an honest ’prentice who would see it duly returned to its owner. Besides, where better, thought I, could I find a shawl for old Judy than among the Mercers on the Bridge?
So up to the Bridge I clambered, merry to think how soon I, and all I loved best, would be far away on the free sea, with our enemies all behind, and our hopes all before.