"Who and what is this Master Secretary that hath set the maiden of the Rose Croft to look upon me with an evil spirit? I would fain know if he think himself a properer man than I. Doth he stand upon his fingering of a lute, and his skill to dance?--Why even in this chamber-craft I will put it to a wager he is no master of mine. Is he more personable in shape or figure?--goes he in better apparel? or is that broken English of his more natural to the province than my plain speech, that he should claim the right to chide me for my behaviour? Is it that he hath a place in the train of his Lordship? Have not I served as near to a belted knight--lord of a thousand stout hearts and master of a fleet of thirty sail?--ay, and in straits where you should as soon expect to meet a hare as that crotchet-monger. A bookish clerk with no manly calling that should soil his ruff in the space of a moon! By Saint Iago, but I will put him to his books to learn how he shall heal the stroke of a choleric hand, when the time shall serve to give him the taste of it!--Mistress Blanche would not be importuned--indeed! And he must be my tutor to teach me what pleaseth Mistress Blanche. He lied--the maiden did not mislike my question;--she but hung her head to have it so openly spoken. I know she doth not set at naught my favours, but as damsels from custom do a too public tender of a token. Old Anthony Warden counts his friends by their manhood, and he hath shown me grace:--his daughter in the end will follow his likings--and as the father's choice approves, so will hers incline. Am I less worthy in old Master Warden's eyes, than yonder parchment bearer--that pen-and-ink slave of his Lordship's occasions?--he that durst not raise his eye above his Lord's shoe, nor speak out of a whisper when his betters are in presence? What is he, to put me from the following of my own will when it pleases me to speak to any maiden of this province?--I am of the sea--the broad, deep sea! she hath nursed me in her bosom,--and hath given me my birth-right to be as proudly borne as the honours of any lord of the land. I have a brave deck for my foot, a good blade for my belt, the bountiful ocean before me and a score of merry men at my back. Are these conditions so mean that I must brook the Secretary's displeasure or fashion my speech to suit his liking?--We shall understand each other better, in good time, or I shall lack opportunity to speak my mind:--I shall, good Master Verheyden,--you have the word of a 'Brother of the Bloody Coast' for that!" Before the Skipper had ceased this petulant and resentful self-communion, he found himself in the neighbourhood of the Catholic Chapel, nearly in front of the dwelling of father Pierre, when the good priest, who was at this moment returning from noon-day service, took him at unawares with the salutation,--