"Not quite that," said Amyas. "He was a meeker man latterly than he used to be. As he said himself once, a better refiner than any whom he had on board had followed him close all the seas over, and purified him in the fire. And gold seven times tried he was, when God, having done his work in him, took him home at last."
And so the talk ended. There was no doubt that the expedition had been an utter failure; Adrian was a ruined man; and Amyas had lost his venture.
Adrian rose, and begged leave to retire; he must collect himself.
"Poor gentleman!" said Mrs. Hawkins; "it is little else he has left to collect."
"Or I either," said Amyas. "I was going to ask you to lend me one of your son's shirts, and five pounds to get myself and my men home."
"Five? Fifty, Mr. Leigh! God forbid that John Hawkins's wife should refuse her last penny to a distressed mariner, and he a gentleman born. But you must eat and drink."
"It's more than I have done for many a day worth speaking of."
And Amyas sat down in his rags to a good supper, while Mrs. Hawkins told him all the news which she could of his mother, whom Adrian Gilbert had seen a few months before in London; and then went on naturally enough, to the Bideford news.
"And by the by, Captain Leigh, I've sad news for you from your place; and I had it from one who was there at the time. You must know a Spanish captain, a prisoner"
"What, the one I sent home from Smerwick?"
"You sent? Mercy on us! Then, perhaps, you've heard"
"How can I have heard? What?"
"That he's gone off, the villain!"
"Without paying his ransom?"
"I can't say that; but there's a poor innocent young maid gone off with him, one Salterne's daughter—the Popish serpent!"
"Rose Salterne, the mayor's daughter, the Rose of Torridge!"
"That's her. Bless your dear soul, what ails you?"
Amyas had dropped back in his seat as if he had been shot; but he recovered himself before kind Mrs. Hawkins could rush to the cupboard for cordials.
"You'll forgive me, madame; but I'm weak from the sea; and your good ale has turned me a bit dizzy, I think."
"Ay, yes, 'tis too, too heavy, till you've been on shore a while. Try the aqua vitæ; my Captain John has it right good; and a bit too fond of it too, poor dear soul, between whiles, Heaven forgive him!"
So she poured some strong brandy and water down Amyas's throat in spite of his refusals, and sent him to bed, but not to sleep; and after a night of tossing, he started for Bideford, having obtained the means for so doing from Mrs. Hawkins.
