"
"You are a hungry old sea-dog. That was not the Coffyn fashion. Ned was for
ever homesick out of sight of Devon. They worshipped their bleak acres and
their fireside pieties. Ah, but I forget. You are de Laval on one side, and
that is strong blood. There is not much in England to vie with it. You were
great nobles when our Cecils were husbandmen."
He turned on a new tack. "You know that Whitney and Wollaston have deserted
me. They would have had me turn pirate, and when I refused they sailed off
and left me. This morning I saw the last of their topsails. Did I right?,"
he asked fiercely.
"In my judgment you did right."
"But why--why?" Raleigh demanded. "I have the commission of the King of
France. What hindered me to use my remnant like hounds to cut off the
stragglers of the Plate Fleet? That way lies much gold, and gold will buy
pardon for all offences. What hindered me, I say?"
"Yourself, Sir Walter."
Raleigh let his head fall back on the couch and smiled bitterly.
"You say truly--myself.
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