with you, and that my sword shall hereafter audit."

"Sir, I am content!" cried the other, fiercely, then turning again to
the Admiral, broke into a laugh that was impish in its glee. "Ah, I've
needed to feel my hand on my ship's helm! Sir John, shall I have my
sixty tall fellows again, with just a small levy from the _Mere Honour_,
the _Marigold_, and the _Cygnet_?"

"Yes," answered the Admiral, and presently, by his rising, declared the
council ended, whereupon the adventurers dispersed to their several
ships where they lay at anchor in the crystal harbor, the watchmen in
the tops straining eyes, on the decks mariners and soldiers as jubilant
as were ever men who did battle on the seas. Only the _Cygnet's_ boat,
rocking beneath the stern of the _Mere Honour_, waited for its Captain,
who tarried with the Admiral.

In the state-cabin the two men sat for some moments in silence, the
Admiral covering with his hand his bearded lips, Ferne with head thrown
back against the wall and half-closed eyes. In the strong light with
which the cabin was flooded his countenance now showed of a somewhat
worn and haggard beauty. Drunken and forgotten was the wine of battle,
gone the lofty and impassioned vein; after the exaltation came the
melancholy fit, and the man who, mailed in activities, was yet, beneath
that armor, a dreamer and a guesser of old riddles, had let the fire
burn low, and was gone down into the shadowy places.

"Mortimer," spoke the Admiral, and waited. The other moved, drew a long
breath, and then with a short laugh came back to the present.

"My friend ... How iron is our destiny! Do I hate that man too greatly?