"What's that
to me? My passenger here has her berth taken in the name of Ann
Davis."
"Like enough," said Loveday, "but you remember me, captain, and I
swear that this poor young lady is what his Honour Sir Amyas say.
He is a generous young gentleman, and will make it up to you if you
are at any loss in the matter."
"A hundred times over!" exclaimed Amyas hotly.
"Hardly that," said Karen. "Van Draagen might have been good for a
round hundred if he'd been pleased with the commission."
"I'll give you and order--" began Sir Amyas.
"What have you got about you, sir?" interrupted Karen. "I fancy hard
cash better than your orders."
The youth pulled out his purse. There was only a guinea or two and
some silver. "One does not go out to parade with much money about
one," he said, with a trembling endeavour for a smile, "but if you
would send up to my quarters in Whitehall Barracks---"
"Never mind, sir," said Karen, graciously. "I see you are in earnest,
and I'll put up with the loss rather than stand in the light of a couple
of true lovers. Here, Jack, lend a hand, and we'll hoist the young
woman over. She's quiet enough, thanks to Mother Darkness."
The sudden change in tone might perhaps be owing to the skipper's
attention having been called by a sign from one of his men to a boat
coming up from Woolwich, rowed by men of the Royal navy, who were
certain to take part with an officer; but Sir Amyas and Betty were
only intent on receiving the inanimate form wrapped up in its mantle.
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