_Hans_. Quite right! Give us thy fist!... No use to wrangle! [_Offers his hand to one after the other. Looking at one suspiciously._] Thou hast need of a little scouring first, I think. Children, what fine fellows you would be, if only you were not such frightful rogues. [_They laugh._] Tell me now, what have you been at so long? _Ottar_ [_awkwardly_]. Who? We? _Hans_. Yes, you! _Ottar_. Thou wouldst draw us out then? _Hans_. No need. I know that trade a thousand miles away. You are wreckers! _All_ [_laughing_]. Of course. _Hans_ [_half to himself_]. See, see! _Skoell_. Only the name is not quite right. We are wreckers hereabouts; but we chiefly rob upon the high seas. _Hans_. And your Duke? _Ottar_. There's a man! He stands foremost in the attack. When the grappling-irons lay hold, when the javelin whistles in the air, when down upon the rashly canted dragon crashes the boarding-plank, when above they wait like calves for the slaughter, then rings his murder-cry: Ho huzzah! _All_. Ho huzzah! _Hans_ [_half to himself_]. It must be fine. [_Aloud._] Then in the battle--how shows he there? _Ottar_. In what battle? We have no more battles. _Hans_. So, so! I just bethought myself. One question more: How come you here? _Skoell_. Hast thou not taken our measure, then? Take notice of my sparkling glance--its tender fire: observe his air, like to a love-sick cock's: Do we not smell of myrrh and balm! In short, we go to gaze upon the bride. _Hans_. Who, then? _Ottar_. Who? Dost thou mock at us? Thou livest here and yet thou hast not heard of the Amberqueen, the marvel of beauty who has sworn to yield herself and her throne to the man that is victorious in a tournament for life and death, and bears all her other suitors to the earth? The fair one is a widow, the heir an orphan; so it is meat and drink to him who throws the others by the heels. _Hans_. Are you so sure of it? _Ottar_. Well, where is the man who cares to try conclusions with our Duke? _Hans_ [_to himself_], I reared one who will strike him down some day. [_Enter_ Duke Widwolf _and more of his men._] _Duke_. Why stand you there? Did I send you ahead to chatter? On with you! What stops your mouths? Clear the way! And if I find you sluggish I will call out my cat-o'-nine-tails for you. _Hans_ [_aside to the first man, who stands near him_]. He drubs you then? _The First_. Past bearing. _Duke_. Who is that man that speaks with you? Why have you not already struck him down? _Skoell_. He is so droll, master, he would not let himself be killed. _Duke_. Meseems ... Hans Lorbass--do I see aright? What--what?... Thou knowest I am in thy debt for business secretly done. I love not debts between master and man. _Hans_. No need, my lord, I have my pay. _Duke_. At first thou seemedst to serve me diligently; yet thou didst slip as suddenly from my throne as though thou hadst an ailing conscience. _Hans_ [_gazing out to sea._] Perhaps. It may be.