played me with my ironwork. Week in, week out,
two of three serpentines would be flawed in the casting, and only fit,
they said, to be remelted. Then John Collins would shake his head, and vow
he could pass no cannon for the King's service that were not perfect.
Saints! How Sebastian stormed! _I_ know, for we sat on this bench sharing
our sorrows inter-common.

'When Sebastian had fumed away six weeks at Lindens and gotten just six
serpentines, Dirk Brenzett, Master of the _Cygnet_ hoy, sends me word that
the block of stone he was fetching me from France for our new font he'd
hove overboard to lighten his ship, chased by Andrew Barton up to Rye
Port.'

'Ah! The pirate!' said Dan.

'Yes. And while I am tearing my hair over this, Ticehurst Will, my best
mason, comes to me shaking, and vowing that the Devil, horned, tailed, and
chained, has run out on him from the church-tower, and the men would work
there no more. So I took 'em off the foundations, which we were
strengthening, and went into the Bell Tavern for a cup of ale. Says Master
John Collins: "Have it your own way, lad; but if I was you, I'd take the
sinnification o' the sign, and leave old Barnabas's Church alone!" And
they all wagged their sinful heads, and agreed. Less afraid of the Devil
than of me--as I saw later.

'When I brought my sweet news to Lindens, Sebastian was limewashing the
kitchen-beams for Mother. He loved her like a son.

'"Cheer up, lad," he says. "God's where He was. Only you and I chance to
be pure pute asses! We've been tricked, Hal, and more shame to me, a
sailor, that I did not guess it before! You must leave your belfry alone,
forsooth, because the Devil is adrift there; and I cannot get my
serpentines because John Collins cannot cast them aright. Meantime Andrew
Barton hawks off the Port of Rye. And why? To take those very serpentines
which poor Cabot must whistle for; the said serpentines, I'll wager my
share of new Continents, being now hid away in St. Barnabas church tower.
Clear as the Irish coast at noonday!"

'"They'd sure never dare to do it," I said; "and for another thing,
selling cannon to the King's enemies is black treason--hanging and fine."

'"It is sure large profit. Men'll dare any gallows for that. I have been a
trader myself," says he. "We must be upsides with 'em for the honour of
Bristol."

'Then he hatched a plot, sitting on the lime-wash bucket. We gave out to
ride o' Tuesday to London and made a show of m