"It shall be done, fair sir," he answered finally. "Ah, good my lords, I pray you save us from these demons of corsairs. They will flay us alive, an we do not accept their Al-Koran--or belike they will slay us anyway for sufficiency of slaves to pull at their oars. Do but----" "Silence," interrupted Matteo. "You talk like a woman--or a Greek. Have you arms for your crew?" "Some few." "Then do you serve them out. Make haste. And fetch me the tar and oil." As Messer Nicholas disappeared down the poop-ladder, Hugh turned to his friend in amazement. "Tar and oil!" he exclaimed. "What engine of defence are you devising, Matteo?" For answer, Matteo led him inside the stern-castle, where a bed of coals glowed in a stone oven. On it their breakfast had been cooked by Ralph. "Here we have fire," announced Matteo, "When I have procured the oil and tar I shall compound a very fair copy of the famed Greek fire--a most deadly compound, Hugh, and a weapon these corsairs will not be expecting from a peaceful merchantman. 'Tis a surprise they will not relish, or I know not the breed." Hugh clapped him on the back. "Hast a most fertile brain," he cried. "There is a plan, indeed. But what is my part therein?" "Your part is to put some spirit into these scurvy shipmen, and nerve them to come to blows with the Saracens. 'Tis vital for my plan that we should be close aboard the galley before I launch my stroke." "Trust me," responded Hugh heartily. "I will keep them to it, an I have to slay them myself. Now, whilst you brew your witches' draught, I will see if the prospect of a fight hath medicinal powers on Ralph's carcass." Worn out by his retching nausea, Ralph had slumbered through all the uproar on the cog's decks, and Hugh found waking him no easy task. "What ado now, Messer Hugh?" he protested. "A-hum! Can't you let a body be? My stomach is clean dropped down through my heels, and the top of my head is gone." "Alas, then, you may have no share in the fight," said Hugh with studied indifference. Ralph interrupted a leisurely stretch to glance sharply upward at his master. "A fight, say you? Certes, Messer Hugh, you are jesting." "Never a jest." "What manner of fight can men have out on this wobbly water that will not let a body stand steady on the two legs under him?" returned Ralph sceptically. "If you would but stand on those two legs of yours, you might see the beginning of such a fight," answered Hugh. His curiosity at last aroused, Ralph caught hold of a piece of rigging beside him and made shift to struggle to his knees. "I see no fight," he complained. "There is naught but another devil's machine like to this bouncing over the water." "Ay, Ralph, and 'tis full of hairy blackamoors and bloody Saracens with a mind to cut your heart out." "Saracens, Messer Hugh? What do they hereabouts?" Hugh became serious.