Morgan; "and I pay."

Chapter XIX.

PAIGNTON ROB'S STORY.

The three broken sailor men attacked the ample venison pasty with a
zeal and thoroughness that betokened long abstention from work of a
similar nature, and the sack trickled gratefully down parched throats.
Morgan and Jeffreys drank to their better fortune, but would not touch
the food, pleading that their ordinary dinner time was a full hour off,
and that they were pledged to make havoc of some pastries made by a
certain young gentlewoman, who would undoubtedly be much grieved if
they did not eat as heartily as was their wont. So the Paignton man
and his Plymouth comrades shared the pie amongst themselves, the two
others looking about and noting the other occupants of the inn parlour.
Some of these were known by repute to Jeffreys, and he gave Morgan
information concerning them.

The pie-dish stood empty. Johnnie expressed an opinion that apples
were roasting somewhere. Nick Johnson sniffed the air, and promptly
agreed with him, adding that the fragrance of roasting apples awoke
memories of far-off Devon. Whereupon the forester remarked that they
had a like effect upon him, and that he was minded to have a dish with
a little cream, if all the company would join him. There was no
objector, and each man was soon busy with hot apples and cream. After
this Jeffreys ordered fresh flagons of wine, and asked Paignton Rob for
his story.

"Will Master Morgan care for the recital?" queried Rob.

"My ears are burning," cried Johnnie. "I seem to have strolled out of
Chepe this morning right into America. Stint not a word of thy story
if thou hast any desire to please me."

"So be it, friends. I cannot but wish that some other man had the
telling of it. You will remember--at least thou wilt, Timothy--how
Captain John Oxenham sailed out from Plymouth with the _Hawk_, one
hundred and forty ton barque, and a crew of seventy men, for the
Spanish Main?"

"Ay; report says that all were slain by fever and the Indians."

"Therein doth report speak falsely. We three went with Oxenham, and we
sit here to-day to tell the tale. Whether any other tongue hath told
it I cannot say. There is scant hope of any more survivors. Well, to
the story itself. We went out of Plymouth Sound, threescore and ten,
men and boys, well armed and victualled for six months. We turned our
prow westwards, prepared like good adventurers to take what fortune the
seas might brin