Rob of the Bowl Part 20

"Has it ever come into your wise brain, Master Rob," he asked, "that you are getting somewhat old; and that it might behoove you to make a shrift at the confessional, by way of settling your account? I take it, it will not be a very clean reckoning without a good swashing penance."

"How now, thou malignant kite!" exclaimed the Cripple; "what's in the wind?"

"Simply, Rob, that the time has come when, peradventure, we must part.

I am tired of this wicked life. I shall amend; and I come to counsel you to the like virtuous resolution. I will be married, Robert Swale, Man of the Bowl!"

"Grammercy! thou wilt be married! thou! I spit upon thee for a fool.

What crotchet is this?"

"I will be married, as I say, neither more nor less. Now to what wench, ask you? Why to the very fairest and primest flower of this province--the Rose of St. Mary's--the Collector's own daughter. I mark that devil's sneer of unbelief of yours, old buckler man: truer word was never spoke by son of the sea or land, than I speak now."

"To the Collector's daughter!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the Cripple, in a tone of derision. "Thy carriage is bold in the Port, but no measure of audacity will ever bring thee to that favour. Would'st thou play at thine old game, and sack the town, and take the daintiest in it for ransom? You know no other trick of wooing, d.i.c.kon."

"By my hand, Rob, I am specially besought by the Collector to make one at a choice merry-making which his daughter has on foot for next Thursday. Ay, and I am going, on his set command, to dance a gailliard with Mistress Blanche. Oh, she shall be the very bird of the sea--the girl of the billow, Rob! She shall be empress of the green wave that nursed me, and the blue sky, and the wide waste. Her throne shall be on the deck of my gay bark: and my merry men shall spring at her beck as deftly as at the boatswain's pipe!"

"You shall sooner meet your deservings," said Rob, "on the foal of the acorn, with a hempen string, than find grace with the Collector's child. Thy whole life has been adversary to the good will of the father."

"I know it," replied c.o.c.klescraft. "I was born in natural warfare with the customs and all who gather them; the more praise for my exploit! I shall change my ways and forsake evil company. I shall be a man of worship. We shall shut up the Chapel, Rob; expel our devils; pack off our witches to Norway, and establish an honest vocation. Therefore, Rob, go to father Pierre; repent of your misdeeds, and live upon your past gains. You are rich and may afford to entertain henceforth a reputable conscience."

"Do not palter with me, sirrah! but tell me what this imports."

"Then truly, Rob, I am much disturbed in my fancies. I love the wench, and mean to have her--fairly if I can--but after the fashion of the Coast if I must. She doth not consent as yet--mainly because she hath a toy of delight in that silken Secretary of my Lord--a bookish pale-cheeked, sickly strummer of stringed instruments--one Master Verheyden, I think they call him."

"Ha!" exclaimed the Cripple, as a frown gathered on his brow; "what is he? Whence comes he?"

"His Lordship's chamber secretary," replied c.o.c.klescraft; "brought hither I know not when nor whence. A silent-paced, priestly pattern of modesty, who feeds on the favour of his betters, as a lady's dog, that being allowed to lick the hand of his mistress, takes the privilege to snarl on all who approach her. I shall make light work with him by whipping him out of my way. Why are you angry, that you scowl so, Master Rob?"

"I needs must be angry to see thee make a fool of thyself," replied the master of the hut. "Verheyden--his Lordship's secretary!" he muttered to himself. "No, no! it would be a folly to think it."

"Mutter as you will, Rob," said c.o.c.klescraft; "by St. Iago, I will try conclusions with the Secretary--folly or no folly! He hath taught the maiden," he added, with a bitter emphasis, "to affect a scorn for me, and he shall smart for it."

"Ha! thy spirit is ever for undoing!" exclaimed Rob, suddenly changing his mood, and forcing a harsh laugh of derision. "Mischief is your proper element--your food, your repose, your luxury. Well, if thou needst must take on a new life, and strive to be worshipful, I would counsel thee to begin it with some deed of charity, not strife. I had as well make my lecture to a young wolf! Ha, d.i.c.kon, thou wilt be a prospering pupil to the master that teaches thee the virtue of charity!

Such rede will be welcome to thee as water to thy shoes! I have scanned thee in all thy humours!"

"I spurn upon your advice, and will not be scorned, old man!" said c.o.c.klescraft, angrily. "The maiden shall be mine, though I pluck her from beneath her father's blazing roof-tree; and then farewell to the province, and to thee! Mark you that! I come not to be taunted with thy ill-favoured speech! My men shall be withdrawn from the Chapel. I will put them on worthier service than to minister to thy greediness."

"Hot-brained, silly idiot--thou drivelling fool!" shouted Rob. "Dost thou not know that I can put thee in the dust and trample on thee as a caitiff? that I can drive thee from the province as a vile outlaw? Art thou such a dizzard as to tempt my anger? If you would thrive even in your villanous wooing, have a care not to provoke my displeasure! One word from me, and not a man paces thy deck: thou goest abroad unattended, stiverless--a fugitive, with hue and cry at thy heels. How dar'st thou reprove me, boy?"

"Thy hand, Rob," said c.o.c.klescraft, relenting. "You say no more than my folly warrants; I am a wanton fool: your pardon--let there be peace between us."

"Art reasonable again? Bravely confessed, d.i.c.kon! I forgive thy rash speech. Now go thy ways, and the Foul One speed thee! I have naught to counsel, either for strife or peace, since thou hast neither wit, wisdom, nor patience for sober advice against the current of thy will.

It will not be long before this maimed trunk shall sink into its natural resting place--and it matters not to me how my remnant of time be spent--whether in h.o.a.rding or keeping. The world will find me an heir to squander what little store it hath pleased my fortune to gather. So go thy ways!"

"I will see you again, friend Rob," said the Buccaneer. "I have matter to look after at the Chapel, and then shall get back to the Port, to drive my suit to a speedy issue. I came here but in honest dealing with you, to give you friendly notice of my design, and, perchance, to get your aid. You have no counsel for me? It is well; my own head and arm shall befriend me; they have stood me in stead in straits more doubtful than this: farewell--farewell!"

As the Skipper stepped along the beach, Rob planted himself in the door of the hut and looked after him for some moments, nodding his head significantly towards him, and muttering in a cynical undertone, "Go thy ways, snake of the sea, sp.a.w.n of a water devil! Thou married! ha, ha! Thy lady gay shall have a sweetened cup in thee: and thy wooing shall be tender and gentle--yea, as the appet.i.te of the sword-fish. It shall be festival wooing--all in the light--in the light--of the bride's own blazing roof: a dainty wolf! a most tractable shark! Oh, I cannot choose but laugh!"

END.