the service was done, began to speak of the captured galleon. "A noble
ship--the _Star_ come again, glorious in her resurrection robes! Who
shall be her captain, teaching her to eschew old ways and serve the
Queen?" His eyes rested upon the galleon's conqueror. "Sir Mortimer
Ferne, the election lies with you."

Ferne started sharply. "Sir, it is an honor I do not desire! As Admiral,
I pray you to name the Captain of the _Phoenix_."

A breathless hush fell upon the cabin. It was a great thing to be
captain of a great ship--so great a thing, so great a chance, that of
the adventurers who had bravely fought on yesterday more than one felt
his cheek grow hot and the blood drum in his ears. Arden cared not for
preferment, but Henry Sedley's eyes were very eager. Baldry, having no
hopes of favor, sat like a stone, his great frame rigid, his nails white
upon the hilt of his sword, his lips white and sneering beneath his
short, black, strongly curling beard.

The pause seemed of the longest; then, "Not so," said the Admiral,
quietly. "It is your right. We know that you will make no swerving from
your duty to God, the Queen, and every soul that sails upon this
adventure, which duty is to strengthen to the uttermost this new sinew
of our enterprise. Mailed hand and velvet glove, you know their several
uses, and the man whom you shall choose will be one to make the
galleon's name resound."

Ferne signed to the steward, and when the tankard was filled, raised the
sherris to his lips. "I drink to Captain Robert Baldry, of the
_Phoenix_!" he said, bowed slightly to the man of his nomination, then
turned aside to where stood Henry Sedley.