IT WAS seven o’clock on the following Wednesday evening and there was an air of expectation in the Ship’s kitchen.

The Coldlight was due to sail under a new name at the late tide.

Anny was upstairs preparing herself for Dick’s coming, while in the room below the talk ran high and many conjectures as to the Captain’s intentions were put forward and withdrawn as the company drank round the fire.

“Osh, where’s the man as can withstand a pretty lass?” said Gilbot, smiling and hiccoughing over his sack.

“Ah, maybe, maybe, but ’tis a wonderful risky thing, this changing names o’ crafts,” put in Granger, wagging his head. “I don’t hold with it myself.”

“Ah, I reckon the Captain knows what he’s about; there ain’t many like him to a mile,” remarked another man.

“You’re right there,” said old Cip de Musset, who had been sitting silently in a corner for some time. “He ain’t no crab, but I’d not let a lass o’ mine have much to do with him.”

“What do you mean?” said Hal, firing up and coming over from the doorway where he had been standing.

Old Gilbot began to laugh.

“Hark to th’ lad,” he gurgled. “One would think he loved her hisself.”

Hal turned away from the light before he spoke, and no one saw the deep flush which crept up over his features even to the roots of his hair, making his scalp tingle uncomfortably.

“We look after our wenches at the Ship, Master Gilbot,” he said hastily.

Gilbot nodded happily.

“Ay,” he said, “wesh do, wesh do!” And the talk continued.

Just as the clock by the chimney-piece struck the quarter steps were heard coming across the yard, and Black’erchief Dick, flanked by Blueneck and Habakkuk Coot, and backed by some nine or ten hardy ruffians, marched in at the door.

In an instant the little Spaniard was the centre of an enthusiastic group, for, since his first coming to the Ship, Dick had done much to make himself popular, and now his deep musical voice was raised good-naturedly above the din calling for rum all round and sack for those who wished for it.

Hal and Sue darted about in obedience to his order and soon the company stood, silent, mugs in hand, waiting for the toast. At this moment the inner door opened and Anny, dressed in the purple gown that Sue had given her, stepped into the kitchen.

Dick was at her side in a moment, and respectfully taking her hand led her into the centre of the room.

“Ann of the Island, her health and beauty for ever!” he shouted, his tankard high above his head. The toast was given boisterously, and Anny blushed and smiled shyly.

Old Gilbot was enjoying himself thoroughly and took advantage of a lull in the conversation to exclaim:

“Let’sh have a shong,” and then without any more ado began to quaver “Pretty Poll” at the top of his voice.

The company took up the burden and the final “Lost in the rolling sea” was bellowed till the rafters shook.

“More rum,” called Dick, and then as though obeying an impulse of the moment he sprang upon one of the forms and resting one foot on the tresselled table, exclaimed,

“Hark ye, dogs, here is a new song, mine own song, a song of Dick Delfazio’s own composing.”

And then throwing back his head he began to sing in a remarkably true tenor voice, swaying his body in tune to his own music:

By this time the rumkins were all replenished and the chorus of the song was taken up and repeated to the accompaniment of jingling pewter.

Dick still kept his position and took up the song again, his dark eyes flashing and smiling at the girl who watched him, fascinated.

And then he added before any one could speak, “To the brig, dogs,” and skipping lightly off the table he offered his hand to Anny and led the way out into the yard, the whole company following, roaring as they went,

Anny looked up shyly at the Spaniard, her heart beating quickly with excitement. He was strolling jauntily along, her hand lightly held in his own; the starlight touched the jewelled hilt of his knife, and his big mournful black eyes winked and smiled happily.

He loved display, pageant, parade; she could see that by the way his men marched around him in regulated order, and by his gorgeous clothes, and she herself became a little intoxicated by the air of excitement and the singing of the laughing, jostling crowd.

Glancing at him under her lashes, she slipped her hand through his arm and laughed a little self-consciously.

A curious, self-satisfied, but half-regretful smile passed over his face and he bent toward her.

“Give me a kiss, little one,” he said softly.

A wave of cold water seemed to dash over Anny’s pleasure and she drew her arm away stiffly, saying, “Prithee, sir, I would return to the Ship.”

Again the curious smile spread over Dick’s lips but this time there was no regret.

“Pardon, mistress, methinks thy beauty and mine own singing hath made my brain whirl. Prithee, prithee, fair one, give me thy hand again.”

Anny looked at him and held out her hand without a word. He seemed so debonair, so gracious, such a fine gentleman, and his soft eyes sought hers almost beseechingly, she thought.

sang the company as the little procession neared the waterside.

Sue, who walked between French and Cip de Musset, looked at the two small figures and sighed involuntarily. She also thought the Spaniard was a fine gentleman and she also had seen his dark eyes fixed mournfully on the other girl’s face, and she began to laugh and talk noisily to hide her vexation.

Gallantly Black’erchief Dick led the little serving-wench down over the planked way to the rowboat, helped her in, and then stepped lightly after her. Several of the company crowded in behind them and they pushed off. The rest of the band seized other boats that were anchored near the shore and followed as best they could.

Once on board the brig, Anny looked about her with delight; the shrouded sails and spiderweb-like rigging pleased her immensely; the swinging lanterns overhead showed the clean boards and newly painted sides, and she laughed with satisfaction as she noted first one thing and then another.

Dick was no less pleased; he loved his boat and derived more pleasure from showing it off than from anything else in the world. He took her from end to end, telling her tales of hairbreadth escapes and secret cargoes of papers and documents. Indeed, carried away by his own enthusiasm he even hinted that good King Charles owed more to Dick Delfazio’s courage than His Majesty was aware of.

Anny listened to him open-mouthed, as he talked on, embroidering his tales with a network of fine and polished phrases, and interrupting them here and there to shout an order or swear at an unhandy sailor as the man hurried to obey him.

When at last the greater part of the company which had followed Dick from the Ship stood on the deck of the Coldlight, he opened the proceedings after the custom of the Island by calling for rum all round.

After the toast, the whole crowd, which was by this time very boisterous, congregated in the forepart of the ship to inspect the figurehead which was at the moment covered with a piece of sail-cloth.

Dick with his inborn love of dramatic effect had seen to this, and now stepping forward he whipped it off with a flourish and stepped back, observing with delight the impression it was making.

Old Ned Hutton, the ship’s carpenter, was certainly not an artist, but he had done his best, and all that paint and a chunk of rough-hewn wood could do had been done. The figure was undoubtedly meant to represent Anny and that was enough for Mersea folk. Everybody cheered loudly, and Dick called for more rum. Then he and the girl went forward to examine the figurehead more closely.

The ugly awkward thing was profusely decorated with gold paint; so much Anny could see by the light of the lantern which Dick gallantly held for her, and her name, “ANNY,” was painted on the bright blue band that went round the figure’s black head.

“’Tis lovely,” she whispered half to herself as she ran her fingers over the great arms and breasts on which the paint was hardly dry.

Dick smiled and made her the obvious compliment, and they went down to the bows and leaned over the gunwale so as to see the four great white letters, “ANNY,” painted on the smooth brown sides.

The girl was delighted, and her infectious gurgling laugh rang out clearly several times on the cold air as she listened to Dick’s sparkling conversation.

“Tide’s full and wind fair,” sang out a voice suddenly from the watch-tower.

Instantly there was confusion: Dick shouted orders here and there but did not take his hand from Anny’s arm. Everyone made for the boats shouting farewells to the crew which responded cheerfully.

Dick bent nearer to the girl.

“I will come again,” he said softly.

Anny smiled and nodded.

“We are ever pleased to see company at the Ship,” she said demurely, slipping her arm out of his grasp and moving over to the side where French, Sue, and Hal waited for her.

Dick followed her.

“Give us your blessing, mistress,” he said loudly. There was silence at once: the sailors attached much importance to a blessing and they stood quietly.

Anny looked round desperately; she had never had a blessing in her life, much less given one, and for a moment she was entirely at a loss. No one spoke, however, so at last she crossed herself devoutly and said as clearly as her nervousness would permit, “I pray God bless this ship, Amen.”

“Amen,” repeated the crew solemnly, and then dashed off on their business and the bustle recommenced.

Sue climbed over the side of the boat, French followed her, and then Hal.

“Farewell, Ann of the Island,” said the Spaniard softly. “I will return to thee.”

Anny looked at him and he seemed to her very comely. She held out her hand and he raised it to his lips.

“Farewell, sir,” she said, and then followed her lover into the little boat.

“Farewell!” came the deep and almost beautiful voice again; there was the clink of chains and the anchor was weighed, and then the brig, her sails all set, glided out into the channel.

Hal bent his back to the oar he was plying and spoke to the other three in the little rowboat without looking up.

“There goes a damned nuisance off the Isle for a bit,” he said.

French grunted and pulled hard. Sue sighed and looked out to sea, while Anny laughed a little ruefully, and patted Hal’s broad shoulders with her little brown hand.