Richard stood now on the high after-deck, and a wave of his hand could be seen by his men below. There was little apparent stir among them, but buff coats were quickly donned, bows were strung, sheaves of arrows were cut open and distributed, while the men-at-arms made ready, and the Irish made sure of their grip upon pikes and axes.
"We will speak that ship, my Lord Neville," said Fleming, very respectfully. "I have orders to report all craft we meet at sea."
"Aye, speak to her," said Richard; but he loosened his sword in its sheath, and he knew that Guy the Bow had an arrow on the string.
Loudly came a hail from out of the fog; the speaker was a Frenchman, and hardly had his utterance ceased before it was followed by a tumult of fierce, triumphant cheering on board the strange vessel.
Piers Fleming sent back a hoarse reply, speaking French; and then he turned to Richard.
"She cometh, my lord!" he exclaimed, as if much affrighted. "'Tis one of King Philip's great cruisers. I have bidden them that we surrender."
He was steering straight for the huge vessel which now swept toward them, looking larger through the cloud of vapor; but ere he made reply Richard's sword was drawn.
"Thou art a traitor!" he shouted. "Jack of London, take thou the helm!"
"Never!" cried Fleming. "Resistance were madness! We are almost alongside of her. Ho, Monsieur de Gaines! We surrender!"
Richard's sword flashed like lightning, but even before it fell had sped the arrow of Guy the Bow. The strong hands of the ready English mariner caught the tiller as the traitorous sailing-master fell gasping to the deck. His son Hans had been standing hard by him, pike in hand. He was taken by surprise for a moment, but he made a quick thrust at Richard. There had been deadly peril in that thrust, but that a poleaxe in the hand of an Irishman came down and cleft the traitor to the eyes.