'Oh, I forgot to say that Bob Brygandyne whipped away my draft of the ship's scroll-work, and would not give it back to me to re-draw. He said 'twould do well enough. Howsoever, my lawful work kept me too busied to remember him. Body o' me, but I worked that winter upon the gates and the bronzes for the tomb as I'd never worked before! I was leaner than a lath, but I lived - I lived then!' Hal looked at Mr Springett with his wise, crinkled-up eyes, and the old man smiled back.
'Ouch!' Dan cried. He had been hollowing out the schooner's after-deck, the little gouge had slipped and gashed the ball of his left thumb, - an ugly, triangular tear.
'That came of not steadying your wrist,' said Hal calmly.
'Don't bleed over the wood. Do your work with your heart's blood, but no need to let it show.' He rose and peered into a corner of the loft.
Mr Springett had risen too, and swept down a ball of cobwebs from a rafter.
'Clap that on,' was all he said, 'and put your handkerchief atop.
'Twill cake over in a minute. It don't hurt now, do it?'
'No,' said Dan indignantly. 'You know it has happened lots of times. I'll tie it up myself. Go on, sir.'
'And it'll happen hundreds of times more,' said Hal with a friendly nod as he sat down again. But he did not go on till Dan's hand was tied up properly. Then he said:
'One dark December day - too dark to judge colour - we was all sitting and talking round the fires in the chapel (you heard good talk there), when Bob Brygandyne bustles in and - "Hal, you're sent for," he squeals. I was at Torrigiano's feet on a pile of put-locks, as I might be here, toasting a herring on my knife's point. 'Twas the one English thing our Master liked - salt herring.
'"I'm busy, about my art," I calls.
'"Art?" says Bob. "What's Art compared to your scroll-work for the SOVEREIGN? Come."
'"Be sure your sins will find you out," says Torrigiano. "Go with him and see." As I followed Bob out I was aware of Benedetto, like a black spot when the eyes are tired, sliddering up behind me.
'Bob hurries through the streets in the raw fog, slips into a doorway, up stairs, along passages, and at last thrusts me into a little cold room vilely hung with Flemish tapestries, and no furnishing except a table and my draft of the SOVEREIGN's scrollwork.
Here he leaves me. Presently comes in a dark, long-nosed man in a fur cap.
'"Master Harry Dawe?" said he.
'"The same," I says. "Where a plague has Bob Brygandyne gone?"
'His thin eyebrows surged up in a piece and come down again in a stiff bar. "He went to the King," he says.
'"All one. Where's your pleasure with me?" I says, shivering, for it was mortal cold.
'He lays his hand flat on my draft. "Master Dawe," he says, "do you know the present price of gold leaf for all this wicked gilding of yours?"
'By that I guessed he was some cheese-paring clerk or other of the King's Ships, so I gave him the price. I forget it now, but it worked out to thirty pounds - carved, gilt, and fitted in place.
'"Thirty pounds!" he said, as though I had pulled a tooth of him. "You talk as though thirty pounds was to be had for the asking. None the less," he says, "your draft's a fine piece of work."
'I'd been looking at it ever since I came in, and 'twas viler even than I judged it at first. My eye and hand had been purified the past months, d'ye see, by my iron work.
'"I could do it better now," I said. The more I studied my squabby Neptunes the less I liked 'em; and Arion was a pure flaming shame atop of the unbalanced dolphins.
'"I doubt it will be fresh expense to draft it again," he says.
'"Bob never paid me for the first draft. I lay he'll never pay me for the second. 'Twill cost the King nothing if I re-draw it," I says.
'"There's a woman wishes it to be done quickly," he says.
"We'll stick to your first drawing, Master Dawe. But thirty pounds is thirty pounds. You must make it less.'
'And all the while the faults in my draft fair leaped out and hit me between the eyes. At any cost, I thinks to myself, I must get it back and re-draft it. He grunts at me impatiently, and a splendid thought comes to me, which shall save me. By the same token, It was quite honest.'
'They ain't always,' says Mr Springett. 'How did you get out of it?'
'By the truth. I says to Master Fur Cap, as I might to you here, I says, "I'll tell you something, since you seem a knowledgeable man. Is the SOVEREIGN to lie in Thames river all her days, or will she take the high seas?"
'"Oh," he says quickly, "the King keeps no cats that don't catch mice. She must sail the seas, Master Dawe. She'll be hired to merchants for the trade. She'll be out in all shapes o' weathers.
Does that make any odds?"
'"Why, then," says I, "the first heavy sea she sticks her nose into'll claw off half that scroll-work, and the next will finish it. If she's meant for a pleasure-ship give me my draft again, and I'll porture you a pretty, light piece of scroll-work, good cheap. If she's meant for the open- sea, pitch the draft into the fire. She can never carry that weight on her bows.
'He looks at me squintlings and plucks his under-lip.
'"Is this your honest, unswayed opinion?" he says.
'"Body o' me! Ask about!" I says. "Any seaman could tell you 'tis true. I'm advising you against my own profit, but why I do so is my own concern.
'"Not altogether ", he says. "It's some of mine. You've saved me thirty pounds, Master Dawe, and you've given me good arguments to use against a willful woman that wants my fine new ship for her own toy. We'll not have any scroll-work." His face shined with pure joy.
'"Then see that the thirty pounds you've saved on it are honestly paid the King," I says, "and keep clear o' women-folk."
I gathered up my draft and crumpled it under my arm. "If that's all you need of me I'll be gone," I says. "I'm pressed."
'He turns him round and fumbles in a corner. "Too pressed to be made a knight, Sir Harry?" he says, and comes at me smiling, with three-quarters of a rusty sword.
'I pledge you my Mark I never guessed it was the King till that moment. I kneeled, and he tapped me on the shoulder.
