“You are sailing to-day for France, captain?” “Well, sir, that’s as it may be,” and the courtier knocked out his pipe, and spat into the empty grate. “I desire passage for two, a lady and myself.” Captain George’s mate had sidled to the window, and was peering like a bird at the hurrying sky. “Looks uncommon dirty,” he remarked, thrusting out his lower lip. “It does, mate, to be sure,” and the master of the _Sussex Queen_ appeared to have made one of the discoveries of his life. Jeffray showed impatience, and glanced at the sky in turn. “Maybe the gentleman’s in a partic’lar hurry,” and the worthy at the window looked profound as he saw Bess in the coach. Captain George accepted the hint. “To be sure; my cargo ain’t full, sir. I was just about thinking of letting my boat lie another week in port.” Jeffray understood the methods of these hard-mouthed men of the sea. They were apt at a bargain, and ready to invent difficulties in order to draw more gold. He fell back upon the desired argument, and consented to be plundered in the interests of romance. “I can pay you well, captain,” he said. “To be sure,” came the inevitable response. “You can fix your own passage-money, within reason.” “Well, captain, I reckon that’s a gentleman’s offer,” and the seaman by the window took snuff, and sneezed as though it were a joy to him. Jeffray pulled out his purse and sat down before the black oak table. “Then you will sail to-day?” he said. “Well, maybe I will.” The glitter of Jeffray’s guineas decided the issue, and Captain George wiped his mouth, gathered up the money, and stuffed it into the leather purse he wore buckled to his belt. Opening the parlor door he bawled at the men who were lounging in the tap-room, and ordered them to carry “my lord’s” baggage down to the quay. Jeffray, who had conceived no very high opinion of the captain of the _Sussex Queen_, felt that his pistols were safe, and buckled on his sword. It was not as though Captain George had to sail them to the Indies. Sloven and drunkard that he seemed, the fellow could do no great mischief in a day’s sail across the Channel. Yet even Jeffray, landsman that he was, could not but mark the sinister spoiling of the weather as he stood on the inn steps and caught a glimpse of the gray sea beyond the harbor mouth. It was possible to judge by the faces of the sailors who were hauling the boxes down from the top of the coach that they were none too eager to leave the tap-room of the King Harry. “Curse the old tub,” quoth one with silver earrings and a face like leather, “a fine prize cruise for the cap’n if he can hold the old hulk together between Beachy and Dieppe.” “Dieppe, mate, Calais Roads, more like. What’s the young cockerel in such a hurry for, eh?” The man with the earrings jerked his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the coach. “Pair of black eyes, mate. Running across the water, most probable, with another gen’leman’s Susan.” “The young fool!”