ships, master!" cried the boy. "Ho, the Cygnet, the bonny
white Cygnet!"
They lay in a half-moon, with the westering sun striking full upon the
windows of their high, castellated poops. Their great guns gleamed;
mast and spar and rigging made network against the blue; high in air
floated bright pennants and the red cross in the white field. To and fro
plied small boats, while over the water to them in the wherry came a
pleasant hum of preparation for the morrow's sailing. Upon the Cygnet,
lying next to the Mere Honour, and a very noble ship, the mariners
began to sing.
"Shall we not row more closely?" cried Sedley. "The Cygnet knows not
that it is you who pass!"
Sir Mortimer laughed. "No, no; I come to her arms from the Palace
to-night! Trouble her not now with genuflections and salutings." His
eyes dwelt with love upon his ship. "How clearly sounds the singing!"
he said.
So clearly did it sound over the water that it kept with them when the
ships were passed. Robin-a-dale had his fancies, to which at times he
gave voice, scarce knowing that he had spoken. "'Tis the ship herself
that sings," he now began to say to himself in a low voice, over and
over again. "'Tis the ship singing, the ship singing because she goes on
a voyage--a long voyage!"
"Sirrah!" cried his master, somewhat sharply. "Know you not that the
swan sings but upon one voyage, and that her last? 'Tis not the Cygnet
that sings, but upon her sing my mariners and soldiers, for that they go
forth to victory!"
He put his hands behind his head, and with a light in his eyes looked
back to the dwindling ships. "Victory!" he repeated beneath his breath.
"Such fame, such service, as that earthworm, that same Detraction,
shall raise no more her lying head!" He turned to Sedley: "I am glad,
Harry, that your lot is cast with mine. For we go forth to victory, lad!"
The younger man answered him impetuously, a flush of pride mounting
to his smooth, dark cheek. "I doubt it not, Sir Mortimer, nor of my
gathering laurels, since I go with you! I count myself most fortunate."
He threw back his head and laughed. "I have no lady-love," he said,
"and so I will heap the laurels in the lap of my sister Damaris."
By now, the tide being with them, they were nearing Greenwich House.
Ferne dipped his hand into the water, then, straightening himself, shook
from it the sparkling drops, and looked in the face of the youth who
was to make with him his maiden voyage.
"You could heap laurels in the lap of no sweeter lady," he said,
courteously. "I thought you went on yesterday to say farewell to
Mistress Damaris Sedley."
"Why, so I did," said the other, simply. "We said farewell with our eyes
in the presence, while the Queen talked with my Lord of Leicester; in
the antechamber with our hands; in the long gallery with our lips; and
when we reached the gardens, and there was none at all to see, we e'en
put our arms about each other and wept. It is a right noble wench, my
sister, and loves me dearly. And then, while we talked, one of her
fellow maids came hurriedly to call her, for her Grace would go
a-hawking, and Damaris was in attendance. So I swore I would see her
again to-day though 'twere but for a moment."
The rowers brought the wherry to the Palace landing. Sir Mortimer,
stepping out upon the broad stairs, began to mount them somewhat
slowly, Sedley and Robin-a-dale following him. Half-way up, Sedley,
noting the rich suit worn so point-device, and aware of how full in the
sunshine of the Queen's favor stood for the moment his Captain, asked
if he were for the presence. Ferne shook his head: "Not now.... May I
know, Henry, where you and your sister meet?"
"In the little covert of the park where we said good-by on yesterday."
There were surprise and some question in the youth's upward glance at
the man in violet satin, standing a step or two above him, his hand
resting upon the stone balustrade, a smile in his eyes, but none upon the
finely cut lips, quite grave and steady beneath the slight mustache.
Ferne, reading the question, gave, after just a moment's pause, the
answer. "My dear lad," he said, and the smile in his eyes grew more
distinct and kindly, "to Mistress Damaris Sedley I also would say
farewell." He laid his hand upon the young man's shoulder. "For I
would know, Henry--I would know if through all the days and nights
that await us over the brim of to-morrow I may dream

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