"Too late," gasped Ben, His ash-grey face uplifted to the moon, One quivering hand upon the thwart behind him, A moment. Then he bowed over his knees Coughing. "But we'll delay them. We'll be drunk, And hold the catch-polls up!" We drifted down Before them, broadside on. They sheered aside. Then, feigning a clumsy stroke, Ben drove our craft As they drew level, right in among their blades. There was a shout, an oath. They thrust us off; And then we swung our nose against their bows And pulled them round with every well-meant stroke. A full half minute, ere they won quite free, Cursing us for a pair of drunken fools. We drifted down behind them. "There's no doubt," Said Ben, "the headsman waits behind all this For Raleigh. This is a play to cheat the soul Of England, teach the people to applaud The red fifth act." Without another word we drifted down For centuries it seemed, until we came To Greenwich. Then up the long white burnished reach there crept Like little sooty clouds the two black boats To meet us. "He is in the trap," said Ben, "And does not know it yet. See, where he sits By Stukeley as by a friend." Long after this, We heard how Raleigh, simply as a child, Seeing the tide would never serve him now, And they must turn, had taken from his neck Some trinkets that he wore. "Keep them," he said To Stukeley, "in remembrance of this night." He had no doubts of Stukeley when he saw The wherry close beside them. He but wrapped His cloak a little closer round his face. Our boat rocked in their wash when Stukeley dropped The mask. We saw him give the sign, and heard His high-pitched quavering voice--"IN THE KING'S NAME!" Raleigh rose to his feet. "I am under arrest?" He said, like a dazed man. And Stukeley laughed. Then, as he bore himself to the grim end, All doubt being over, the old sea-king stood Among those glittering points, a king indeed. The black boats rocked. We heard his level voice, "_Sir Lewis, these actions never will turn out To your good credit._" Across the moonlit Thames It rang contemptuously, cold as cold steel, And passionless as the judgment that ends all. * * * *