CHAPTER VI.
THE "GOOD HOPE" (concluded).
The moans of the wounded baron blended with the wailing of the ship's dog. The poor animal whether he was merely sick at heart to be separated from his friends, or whether he indeed recognised some peril in the labouring of the ship, raised his cries, like minute-guns, above the roar of wave and weather; and the more superstitious of the men heard, in these sounds, the knell of the Good Hope.
Lord Foxham had been laid in a berth, upon a fur cloak. A little lamp burned dim before the Virgin in the bulk-head, and by its glimmer Dick could see the pale countenance and hollow eyes of the hurt man.
"I am sore hurt," said he. "Come near to my side, young Shelton; let there be one by me who, at least, is gentle born; for after having lived nobly and richly all the days of my life, this is a sad pass that I should get my hurt in a little ferreting skirmish, and die here, in a foul, cold ship upon the sea, among broken men and churls."
"Nay, my lord," said Dick, "I pray rather to the saints that ye will recover you of your hurt, and come soon and sound ashore."
"How?" demanded his lordship. "Come sound ashore? There is, then, a question of it?"
