"Master Marsden is ill," I said to White. "Perhaps he needs some wine. And now I think of it, there is some of that wine of which we have just been speaking in the bottle. It would help him to quiet his nerves." And I turned as though to go down for it.
"No," he murmured, his cheeks like chalk. "It is a mere headache, which I have had all day, and which struck me with a sudden twinge. Do not trouble thyself about the wine, Sir Thomas."
"It is no trouble," I replied politely, and I made as if to hurry down the companionway.
"No!" he shrieked. "I will not have it. It always unsettles me," he continued apologetically, lowering his voice to its ordinary tone, "and for that reason I cannot touch it, when I have these headaches."
"Oh, well," I replied, "if thou wilt not drink it. But, pray, what causes these headaches, some sudden shock or disappointment?" I was delighted that I could taunt him thus; each sharp thrust that I gave him was as balm to my soul.
"No," he answered, a gleam of anger in his green eyes. "When I see some foul and loathsome creature it always affects me thus," and he smiled his ghastly grin. With this parting thrust he left us, and shambled forward to where the men stood.
A little knot of them were coming forward now to where we were, the leader, the carpenter Hawkins, a pace in front of them. When they were almost in reach of us they halted.
"What is it?" asked White, his kindly face grown stern and harsh, for there was something different in the appearance of the men. They had lost their quiet and sober expression, and in its place there was a look of anger and determination.
The carpenter spoke, his words humble enough, but there was that in his tone that seemed to make his request a command. Behind him, on the deck below, the whole body of the men, adventurers and sailors, were gathered.
"We have a favor to ask of thee, Governor," he said, twisting his hat between his fingers.