“True, landlord. What sort of sea-boat is the Sussex Queen?”
The innkeeper pursed up his lips, and stood with his hands folded under his apron.
“Good as most, sir, I suppose,” he said. “Rather rickety in her spars, I have heard. Perhaps the lady would be wishing to stay the night? We have a good room up-stairs, and could make ye very comfortable.”
The insinuation was not without its charm, but Bess shook her head as Jeffray questioned her with his eyes.
“No, I am not afraid,” she said.
“Thanks, landlord, I think we will slip across before the weather holds us back.”
It was well past noon when Bess and Jeffray went down to the quay, and found the Sussex Queen moored close in with a gangway from the quay to her quarter-deck. All Bess’s bridal-baggage had been hauled on board, the new trunks filled with the rich stuffs, laces, and brocades that Jeffray had bought for her at Lewes. Two boats’ crews of Newhaven men were already getting out the hawsers to tow the Sussex Queen into the open sea. Jeffray took leave of Gladden, who had followed them from the inn, and pressed some money into the old man’s hand.
“Good-bye, Gladden,” he said, joyous and untroubled, “you shall hear from me in France. Mr. Wilson has my affairs in hand.”
“Good-bye, sir, good-bye. May you get safe across. I don’t like the look of the weather—”
“Ah, we are not afraid of it, Gladden. Look to my father’s books. Mr. Bitson, of Lincoln’s Inn, will see that certain moneys are paid to you quarterly. I want the old house to look well for the day when we shall return. Good-bye,” and he crossed the gangway.