Besides these there were a couple of troopers.
On making this discovery, Charles felt inclined to beat a hasty retreat, and would have done so, if the tavern-keeper, David Price, who had been watching them, had not come forward, and beckoning them to follow him, ushered them into a small inner room, where they found Careless and a stout-built personage, whose appearance answered to the description Charles had received of Captain Rooker.
Tall glasses and a big bowl of sack and sugar, or "Bristol Milk" as it was termed, were set on the table, and light was afforded by a lamp. Careless saluted the new-comers on their entrance, and begged them to be seated, but nothing passed till David Price had quitted the room.
"This is Captain Rooker," said Careless. "He has engaged to give us a passage to Swansea."
"Ay, it's all right," cried the captain, in rough but cheery accents. "My lugger has already gone down the river, and we shall follow her as soon as the tide suits, and that will be in about two hours. The current will then be running down quickly. If so be you don't like to embark on the quay, I can take you up somewhere lower down—say at the Gorge of the Avon."
"That's a long way off," observed Charles. "What's your reason for wishing us to embark at that place, captain?"
"Because it's the safest spot I know of," returned Rooker. "You need have no fear of anyone lying in wait for you there."
"No, we'll make sure of that," observed the king, glancing significantly at Careless.
"Hark ye, captain," said the latter, "you and I must not part company till we reach Swansea."
"Why, you don't doubt me?" cried the skipper, gruffly.