"Quite so." Lord Rattley felt in his pockets. "You have done us a
considerable service, my man, and--er--that bein' so--"

"Forty shillin' it was. _He's_ cheap at it"--with a nod towards the
Admiral. "A real true-blue old English gentleman! You can always
tell by their conversations."

"The fine shall be paid."

"I counted six casks, m'lord, so well as I could by the feel--"

"Yes, yes! And here's a couple of sovereigns for yourself--all I
happen to have in my pocket--"

Lord Rattley bustled off to the house for brandy.

"England's old England, hows'ever you strike it!" chirruped the
prisoner gleefully, and touched his forehead again. "See you at the
Show, m' lord, maybe? 'Will drink your lordship's health there,
anyway."

He skipped away up the road towards Tregarrick. In the opposite
direction young Mr. and Mrs. Trudgian could be seen just passing out
of sight, he supporting her with his arm, pausing every now and then,
bending over her uxoriously.



THE HONOUR OF THE SHIP.