At this the fellow looked at us closely and saw the blood upon our clothes, our disheveled and disordered appearance.
"What news of the great Spanish fleet?" he inquired eagerly. "I heard only a moment ago a great shouting, and wondered if it could be news of the fight."
"The Spanish are defeated," I answered, "and even now are in full flight, our men after them."
"God be praised!" exclaimed the rough old fellow, as he lifted up his hands in joy. "Many a one of them will see the bottom ere morning, or I am mistaken, for there is such a storm brewing to-night as London has not seen for many a year."
"But go into yonder room, Sir," he said, pointing to the door in front of me. "Sir Henry is in there."
"Come, comrades!" he cried to the two sailors who stood behind me. "Come with me, and we will celebrate this victory in a flagon of good wine, and you shall tell me of the battle," and he hobbled off with them.
I turned the knob and entered the low room. There, seated at a table, was Sir Henry, whom I knew well, for I had served with him during my brief campaign in Ireland, and with him, a glass in his hand, his dull, watery eyes fixed upon me, sat my brother Richard.