the ship and bridge of the good town of Bideford. And then Amyas
calls--

"Now, silence trumpets, waits, play up! 'Fortune my foe!' and God and
the Queen be with us!"

Whereon (laugh not, reader, for it was the fashion of those musical, as
well as valiant days) up rose that noble old favorite of good Queen
Bess, from cornet and sackbut, fife and drum; while Parson Jack, who
had taken his stand with the musicians on the poop, worked away lustily
at his violin.

"Well played, Jack; thy elbow flies like a lamb's tail," said Amyas,
forcing a jest.

"It shall fly to a better fiddle-bow presently, sir, and I have the
luck--"

"Steady, helm!" said Amyas. "What is he after now?"

The Spaniard, who had been coming upon them right down the wind under a
press of sail, took in his light canvas.

"He don't know what to make of our waiting for him so bold," said the
helmsman.

"He does though, and means to fight us," cried another. "See, he is
hauling up the foot of his mainsail: but he wants to keep the wind of
us."