fast. "I pledge all scholars turned soldiers," he said, "all courtiers
who stay not at court, all poets who win tall ships at the point of a
canzonetta! Did Sir Mortimer Ferne make verses--elegies and epitaphs and
such toys--at Fayal in the Azores two years ago?"

There followed his speech, heard of all in the room, a moment of amazed
silence. Mortimer Ferne put his tankard softly down and turned in his
seat so that he might more closely observe his fellow adventurer.

"For myself, when an Armada is at my heels, the cares of the moon do not
concern me," went on Baldry, with the gravity of an oracle. "Had Nero
not fiddled, perhaps Rome had not burned."

"And where got you that information, sir?" asked his host, in a most
courtier-like voice.

"Oh, in the streets of Rome, a thousand years ago! 'Twas common talk."
The Captain of the _Star_ tilted his cup and was grieved to find
it empty.

"I have later news," said the other, as smoothly as before. "At Fayal in
the Azores--"

He was interrupted by Sir John Nevil, who had risen from his chair, and
beneath whose stare of surprise and anger Baldry, being far from actual
drunkenness, moved uneasily.

"I will speak, Mortimer," said the Admiral, "Captain Baldry not being my
guest. Sir, at Fayal in the Azores that disastrous day we did what we
could--mortal men can do no more. Taken by surprise as we were, ships