ours of daylight,"
said he; "but if we do not lay her aboard ere darkness falls she will
save herself, for the nights are as black as a wolf's mouth, and if she
alter her course I know not how we may follow her."

"Unless, indeed, you might guess to which port she was bound and reach
it before her."

"Well thought of, little master!" cried Badding. "If the news be for the
French outside Calais, then Ambleteuse would be nearest to Saint Omer.
But my sweeting sails three paces to that lubber's two, and if the wind
holds we shall have time and to spare. How now, archer? You do not seem
so eager as when you made your way aboard this boat by slinging me into
the sea."

Aylward sat on the upturned keel of a skiff which lay upon the deck. He
groaned sadly and held his green face between his two hands. "I would
gladly sling you into the sea once more, master-shipman," said he, "if
by so doing I could get off this most accursed vessel of thine. Or if
you would wish to have your turn, then I would thank you if you would
lend me a hand over the side, for indeed I am but a useless weight upon
your deck. Little did I think that Samkin Aylward could be turned into
a weakling by an hour of salt water. Alas the day that ever my foot
wandered from the good red heather of Crooksbury!"

Cock Badding laughed loud and long. "Nay, take it not to heart, archer,"
he cried; "for better men than you or I have groaned upon this deck. The
Prince himself with ten of his chosen knights crossed with me once, and
eleven sadder faces I never saw. Yet within a month they had shown at
Crecy that they were no weaklings, as you will do also, I dare swear,
when the time comes. Keep that thick head of thine down upon the planks,
and all will be well anon. But we raise her, we raise her with every
blast of the wind!"

It was indeed evident, even to the inexperienced eyes of Nigel, that the
Marie Rose was closing in swiftly upon the stranger. She was a heavy,
bluff-bowed, broad-sterned vessel which labored clumsily through the
seas. The swift, fierce little Winchelsea boat swooping and hissing
through the waters behind her was like some keen hawk whizzing down
wind at the back of a flapping heavy-bodied duck. Half an hour before La
Pucelle had been a distant patch of canvas. Now they could see the black
hull, and soon the cut of her sails and the lines of her bulwarks. There
were at least a dozen men upon her deck, and the twinkle of weapons from
amongst