"But I tell you that you must do this thing," Sir Richard persisted, again setting open the door. "What! hell, man!" he shouted, turning purple in the face. "I say you must." "I'll pitch thee headfirst out, an thou sayst that again!" the captain bawled. "I repeat, sir captain, that we must take thy ship," said Sir Richard. "Moreover, I tell thee to thy teeth thou canst not pitch me out." "I'll wager a noble," he returned, peeling him off his cloak and great-jacket. "An I put thee out," said Sir Richard, "wilt thou take six on ship and fifty nobles in hand?" "An thou goest out ... what then?" said he. "Ten golden discs for thy trouble," the young knight made laughing rejoinder. "Done," said the captain. Sir Richard did not much like the curious crowd gathering closely around them, but he knew well that he must accept the hazard. It was the only way to win to the ship. Well, they went at it then, and how the chairs and tables standing near did tumble, roll and clatter about their flying heels! The captain was of a similar size and build with Bull Bengoff, and it was somewhat like tugging at an enormous animated hogshead to get him moving withal. But Sir Richard got him started rolling toward the door presently, and then, with one mighty heave, he sent him tumbling over and over down the stone steps. "What saidst thou was thy name, sir knight?" the captain asked, sitting prone upon the paving stones and rubbing the top of his pate. There went a loud laugh around at his earnest manner of asking the question. Walking down the steps, Sir Richard stooped, whispering it close to his ear. "God's mercy upon me!" he shouted, getting as quickly as might be to his feet and winding his great arms about the young knight's neck. Sir Richard at once set again to tugging, bethinking him that they were again to have at it. "No, no!" shouted the captain, laughing, "I've had my belly full of that---- God! dost thou not know, man? That ship in the offing yonder doth belong to him whose wealth and titles were left all to thee ... are even now thine. Right glad will old Duke Francis be to have me fetch thee back. Thou art of age now, and can claim thy inheritance." "My benefactor ... who is he?" asked the young knight in an amazed whisper. "Who _is_ he? Why, he's dead, Sir Richard, these nineteen years ... 'twas the man after whom thou wert named--Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick ... often styled 'king-maker.' But come! come inside," he cried, taking the young knight's arm; "we'll have a bowl or two of sack and a right juicy pasty together, Sir Richard. Let the damned ship wait!" "But, listen," Sir Richard whispered, "I'm in the direst peril. 'Twould be well an thou couldst get me on board thy ship at once."