g shaded his keen eyes with his strong brows hand. "She has
but just gone out," said he. "She is La Pucelle, a small wine-sloop from
Gascony, home-bound and laden with barrel-staves."

"I pray you did any man join her at the very last?"

"Nay, I know not. I saw no one."

"But I know," cried a seaman in the crowd. "I was standing at the
wharf-side and was nigh knocked into the water by a little red-headed
fellow, who breathed as though he had run from the town. Ere I had time
to give him a cuff he had jumped aboard, the ropes were cast off, and
her nose was seaward."

In a few words Chandos made all clear to Badding, the crowd pressing
eagerly round.

"Aye, aye!" cried a seaman, "the good Sir John is right. See how she
points. It is Picardy and not Gascony that she will fetch this journey
in spite of her wine-staves."

"Then we must lay her aboard!" cried Cock Badding. "Come, lads, here is
my own Marie Rose ready to cast off. Who's for a trip with a fight at
the end of it?"

There was a rush for the boat; but the stout little seaman picked his
men. "Go back, Jerry! Your heart is good, but you are overfat for the
work. You, Luke, and you, Thomas, and the two Deedes, and William of
Sandgate. You will work the boat. And now we need a few men of their
hands. Do you come, little sir?"

"I pray you, my dear lord, to let me go!" cried Nigel.

"Yes, Nigel, you can go, and I will bring your gear over to Calais this
night."

"I will join you there, fair sir, and with the help of Saint Paul I will
bring this Red Ferret with me."

"Aboard, aboard! Time passes!" cried Badding impatiently, while already
his seamen were hauling on the line and raising the mainsail. "Now then,
sirrah! who are you?" It was Aylward, who had followed Nigel and was
pushing his way aboard.

"Where my master goes I go also," cried Aylward, "so stand clear,
master-shipman, or you may come by a hurt."

"By Saint Leonard! archer," said Cock Badding, "had I more time I
would give you a lesson ere I leave land. Stand back and give place to
others!"

"Nay, stand back and give place to me!" cried Aylward, and seizing
Badding round the waist he slung him into the dock.

There was a cry of anger from the crowd, for Badding was the hero of all
the Cinque Ports and had never yet met his match in manhood. The epitaph
still lingers in which it was said that he "could never rest until
he had foughten his fill." When, therefore, swimming like a duck, he