soldiers, with a few whispered
words of precept here and of warning there.

"Stand to it, my hearts of gold," said the old bowman as he passed from
knot to knot. "By my hilt! we are in luck this journey. Bear in mind the
old saying of the Company."

"What is that, Aylward?" cried several, leaning on their bows and
laughing at him.

"'Tis the master-bowyer's rede: 'Every bow well bent. Every shaft well
sent. Every stave well nocked. Every string well locked.' There, with
that jingle in his head, a bracer on his left hand, a shooting glove on
his right, and a farthing's-worth of wax in his girdle, what more doth a
bowman need?"

"It would not be amiss," said Hordle John, "if under his girdle he had
tour farthings'-worth of wine."

"Work first, wine afterwards, mon camarade. But it is time that we
took our order, for methinks that between the Needle rocks and the Alum
cliffs yonder I can catch a glimpse of the topmasts of the galleys.
Hewett, Cook, Johnson, Cunningham, your men are of the poop-guard.
Thornbury, Walters, Hackett, Baddlesmere, you are with Sir Oliver on the
forecastle. Simon, you bide with your lord's banner; but ten men must go
forward."

Quietly and promptly the men took their places, lying flat upon their
faces on the deck, for such was Sir Nigel's order. Near the prow was
planted Sir Oliver's spear, with his arms--a boar's head gules upon a
field of gold. Close by the stern stood Black Simon with the pennon of
the house of Loring. In the waist gathered the Southampton mariners,
hairy and burly men, with their jerkins thrown off, their waists braced
tight, swords, mallets, and pole-axes in their hands. Their leader,
Goodwin Hawtayne, stood upon the poop and talked with Sir Nigel, casting
his eye up sometimes at the swelling sail, and then glancing back at the
two seamen who held the tiller.

"Pass the word," said Sir Nigel, "that no man shall stand to arms or
draw his bow-string until my trumpeter shall sound. It would be well
that we should seem to be a merchant-ship from Southampton and appear to
flee from them."

"We shall see them anon," said the master-shipman. "Ha, said I not so?
There they lie, the water-snakes, in Freshwater Bay; and mark the reek
of smoke from yonder point, where they have been at their devil's work.
See how their shallops pull from the land! They have seen us and called
their men aboard. Now they draw upon the anchor. See them like ants upon
the forecastle! They stoo