Arthur complied, and Basset led him to the little cabin which the three young officers occupied together. "Behold!" said Basset grandiloquently, with a flourish of his hand towards the berths. "Behold, I beseech you, him that hath alone routed the Spaniard, swept the seas, saved England, and covered him with glory! He it is whose name shall live in the chronicles of the time! He shall have a statue--of gingerbread--in the court of Her Majesty's Palace of Westminster, and his name shall be set up--wrought in white goose feathers--on the forefront of Paul's! Hail to the valiant and unconquerable Jack Enville, the deliverer of England from Pope and Spaniard!" To the great astonishment of Arthur, there lay the valiant Jack, rolled in a blanket, apparently very much at his ease: but when Basset's peroration was drawing to a close, he unrolled himself, looking rather red in the face, and returned to ordinary life by standing on the floor in full uniform. "Hold thy blatant tongue for an ass as thou art!" was his civil reply to Basset's lyric on his valour. "If I did meet a wound in the first flush of the fray, and came down hither to tend the same, what blame lieth therein?" "Wert thou wounded, Jack?" asked Arthur. "Too modest belike to show it," observed Basset. "Where is it, trow? Is thy boot-toe abrased, or hast had five hairs o' thine head carried away?" "'Tis in my left wrist," said Jack, replying to Arthur, not Basset. "Prithee, allow us to feast our eyes on so glorious a sign of thy valiantness!" said Basset. Jack was extremely reluctant to show his boasted wound; but being pressed to do so by both his friends (from different motives) he exhibited something which looked like a severe scratch from a cat. "Why, 'tis not much!" said Arthur, who could have shown several worse indications of battle on himself, which he had not thought worth notice. "Oh, is it not?" muttered Jack morosely. "I can tell thee, 'tis as sore--" "Nay, now, wound not yet again the great soul of the hero!" put in Basset with grim irony. "If he lie abed i' th' day for a wound to his wrist, what shall he do for a stab to his feelings? You shall drive him to drown him in salt water; and that were cruelty unheard-of, for it should make his eyes smart. I tell thee what, Jack Enville--there is _one_ ass aboard the fleet, and his name is neither Arthur Tremayne nor--saving your presence--Robin Basset. Farewell! I go to win a laurel crown from Sir Francis by bearing news unto him of thy heroical deeds." And away marched Basset, much to the relief of Jack. The encounter of that day had been fearful. But when Lord Howard drew off to recruit himself, the Armada gathered her forces together, went forward, and cast anchor on the 27th in Calais Roads.