"You have late news from England?" inquired the Skipper.
"We have,--and which, but that you are true in your creed, I might scarce mention to your ear--the royal order has come to my Lord to dismiss his Catholic servants from office--every one. His Lordship scruples to obey. This, Master Skipper, I confide to you in private, as not to be told again."
"To remove all!" said Cocklescraft. "Why it will sweep off his nearest friends--Anthony Warden and all."
"There is fighting matter in that, upon the spot," exclaimed the Skipper. "By St. Sebastian, I hope it may come up while I am in port! The Collector, old as he is, will buckle on his toledo in that quarrel. He has mettle for it; and I could wish no better play than to stand by his side. Who is this Secretary of my Lord's private chamber? I met him at the Collector's to-day."
"Master Albert Verheyden," replied the priest.
"I know his name--they told it to me there--but his quality and condition, father?"
"You may be proud of his fellowship," said father Pierre; "he was once a scholar of the Jesuit school at Antwerp, of the class inscribed 'Princeps Diligentiæ,' and brought thence by my Lord. A youth, Master Cocklescraft, of promise and discretion--a model to such as would learn good manners and cherish virtuous inclinations. You may scarcely fail to see him at the Collector's: the townspeople do say he has an eye somewhat dazzled there."
"Craving pardon for my freedom, I say, father Pierre, a fig's end for such a model!" exclaimed the Skipper, pettishly: "you may have such by the score, wherever lazy, bookish men eat their bread. I like him not, with his laced band and feather, his book and lute: harquebuss and whinyard are the tools for these days. I hear the Fendalls have been at mischief again. We shall come to bilbo and buff before long. Your Secretary will do marvellous service in these straits, father."
"Son, you are somewhat sinful in your scorn," said the priest, mildly; "the Secretary doth not deserve this taunt----"
"By the holy hermits, father, I speak of the Secretary but as I think. He does not awe me with his greatness. I vail no topsail to him, I give you my word for it."
"The saints preserve us from harm!" said the churchman. "We know not what may befall us from the might of our enemies, when this hot blood shall sunder our friends. In sober counsel, son, and not in rash divisions shall we find our safety. It doth not become thee, Master Cocklescraft, to let thy tetchy humour rouse thee against the Secretary. It might warrant my displeasure."