I had now almost recovered my strength, but I kept closely to my cabin. I had been on deck a while, a few days after I had gotten able to stir about, and I could but remark on the conduct of the gentlemen; my former comrades had turned the cold shoulder to me, and I had been met on all sides with cool looks and scornful faces. It had fretted me at first, but after all it was the way of the world. Even Drake had not seemed overly joyous to see me. He inquired after my health, and told me he was glad to see me up again, but his voice had been so careless and perfunctory that I saw it was a distasteful duty, and I had turned away and gone down to my cabin. Occasionally I went on deck, but I avoided the men, and wrapping myself in my cloak would stand apart, a pariah among my fellows. Sometimes I would be joined by Oliver, and we would pace the deck together. A strange pair we must have looked--I, grave and silent; the boy, bright and merry; I, with gray hair and sad face; he with his curls blowing in the breeze, and a song upon his lips as he walked beside me, his tongue running all the while like a weaver's shuttle. Often at night I would slip away from my cabin, and would silently stride the deck for hours, my eyes upon the tossing sea. Oliver I did not see so much of lately. Heaven knows I did not complain, for he was young and needed society. The gentlemen kept him a good deal of his time in the great cabin; he amused them, and was good company. I could hear them as they sung together, or tossed the dice; and at such times the loneliness of my life would descend upon me with bitter agony, and I would groan aloud and writhe with anguish as I fought with my traitor soul until I was calm again. Oliver the gallants could forgive for his crimes, he was bright and innocent; if he had wandered astray he was too young to realize the error of his way. The pirates moreover had said little against him, and if he had done aught he had been led by me. We had passed several merchant vessels within the last few days; one we hailed was the "Betsy." I recognized her short, stout skipper, who nearly two years ago had conveyed me out to meet the pirate vessel. The man did not know me; I had changed too much. And now, as I leaned against the rail, I heard the conversation between him and Drake. "The great Armada had sailed from Spain," he said, "several weeks before. It was doubtless even now upon the coast of England; the whole country had arisen as one strong man, and stood ready to meet the Spaniards. If the English were defeated, it would mean the ruin of the country." On hearing this much, Drake had sailed on and left him there.