"Trust me," he laughed; and at that moment Trigget and the servant climbed to the poop by way of the ladder from the ship's waist. He advanced to meet them. He saw that Trigget held a folded paper in his hand, and that the honest eyes of that bold mariner were red and moist.
"What is it?" he inquired; for he had entirely forgotten, for the time being, the manner of Mistress Westleigh's joining with the expedition.
"Here be your will, sir," said Trigget, handing him the paper. "It—it—well, maybe it'll not be o' any use now."
"Of course not," replied Kingswell, cheerfully, tearing it across.
Maggie Stone burst into tears. "Jus' the way Sir Ralph went," she sobbed. "Oh, my beautiful little lady—an' her fit mate for any nobleman of London town!"
"What the devil do you mean?" cried Kingswell. Then the truth dawned in his preoccupied brain. "Dry your eyes," he said. "She is safe and sound."
"Thank God for that," exclaimed William Trigget, devoutly.
"What—the mistress be safe, d'ye say?" cried Maggie Stone, with a sudden change of face.
Kingswell nodded curtly. He did not like being bawled at on the poop of his recaptured ship, even by an old serving maid. "Your mistress is safe—and in my care," he said.
"Indeed, sir?" she queried. "An' may I make so bold as to ax when ye married Sir Ralph Westleigh's daughter?"