ed.

I beckoned to Diccon, and putting the tiller into his hands went forward
to reef the sail. When it was done and I was back in my place, my lord
spoke again.

"Where are we going, captain?"

"I don't know."

"If you leave that sail up much longer, you will land us at the bottom
of the river."

"There are worse places," I replied.

He left his seat, and moved, though with caution, to one nearer Mistress
Percy. "Are cold and storm and peril sweeter to you, lady, than warmth
and safety, and a love that would guard you from, not run you into,
danger?" he said in a whisper. "Do you not wish this boat the Santa
Teresa, these rude boards the velvet cushions of her state cabin, this
darkness her many lights, this cold her warmth, with the night shut out
and love shut in?"

His audacity, if it angered me, yet made me laugh. Not so with the
King's ward. She shrank from him until she pressed against the tiller.
Our flight, the pursuing feet, the struggle at the wharf, her wounded
arm of which she had not told, the terror of the white sail rising as if
by magic, the vision of the man she hated lying as one dead before her
in the moonlight, the cold, the hurry of the night,--small wonder if
her spirit failed her for some time. I felt her hand touch mine where
it rested upon the tiller. "Captain Percy," she murmured, with a little
sobbing breath.

I leaned across the tiller and addressed the favorite. "My lord," I
said, "courtesy to prisoners is one thing, and freedom from restraint
and license of tongue is another. Here at the stern the boat is somewhat
heavily freighted. Your lordship will oblige me if you will go forward
where there is room enough and to spare."

His black brows drew together. "And what if I refuse, sir?" he demanded
haughtily.

"I have rope here," I answered, "and to aid me the gentleman who once
before to-night, and in despite of your struggles, lifted you in his
arms like an infant. We will tie you hand and foot, and lay you in the
bottom of the boat. If you make too much trouble, there is always the
river. My lord, you are not now at Whitehall. You are with desperate
men, outlaws who have no king, and so fear no king's minions. Will you
go free, or will you go bound? Go you shall, one way or the other."

He looked at me with rage and hatred in his face. Then, with a laugh
that was not good to hear and a shrug of the shoulders, he went forward
to bear Diccon company in the bow.

CHAPTER