e as Admiral? Then I also adjudge you the command of the galleon. The
_Star_ did very valiantly; look to it that the _Phoenix_ prove
no laggard."

"Hear me swear that I will make her more famous than is Drake's _Golden
Hind_!" cried Baldry, his exultation breaking bounds. "Sir John, you
have knowledge of men, and I thank you! Sir Mortimer Ferne, I will give
account--"

"Not to me, sir," interrupted Ferne, haughtily. "I have but one account
with you, and that my sword shall hereafter audit."

"Sir, I am content!" cried the other, fiercely, then turning again to
the Admiral, broke into a laugh that was impish in its glee. "Ah, I've
needed to feel my hand on my ship's helm! Sir John, shall I have my
sixty tall fellows again, with just a small levy from the _Mere Honour_,
the _Marigold_, and the _Cygnet_?"

"Yes," answered the Admiral, and presently, by his rising, declared the
council ended, whereupon the adventurers dispersed to their several
ships where they lay at anchor in the crystal harbor, the watchmen in
the tops straining eyes, on the decks mariners and soldiers as jubilant
as were ever men who did battle on the seas. Only the _Cygnet's_ boat,
rocking beneath the stern of the _Mere Honour_, waited for its Captain,
who tarried with the Admiral.

In the state-cabin the two men sat for some moments in silence, the
Admiral covering with his hand his bearded lips, Ferne with head thrown
back against the wall and half-closed eyes. In the strong light with
which the cabin was flooded his countenance now showed of a somewhat
worn and haggard beauty. Drunken and forgotten was the wine of battle,
gone the lofty and impassioned vein; after the exaltation came the
melancholy fit, and the man who, mailed in activities, was yet, beneath
that armor, a dreamer and a guesser of old riddles, had let the fire
burn low, and was gone down into the shadowy places.

"Mortimer," spoke the Admiral, and waited. The other moved, drew a long
breath, and then with a short laugh came back to the present.

"My friend ... How iron is our destiny! Do I hate that man too greatly?
One might say, I think, that I loved him well, seeing that I have lent
my shoulder for him to climb upon."

"Mortimer, Mortimer," said Nevil, "you know that I love you. My friend,
I pray you to somewhat beware yourself. I think there is in your veins a
subtle poison may work you harm."

Ferne looked steadfastly upon him. "What is its name?"

The other shook hi