CHAPTER VIII THE COMPANY AT THE NOBLE ROSE
In the left-hand window as I came up I saw that the Captain was sitting, and as I came up he saw me and beckoned me to come inside.
With a beating heart I entered the inn hall, and was making for the Captains room when a servant barred my way.
Now then, where are you posting to? he asked, with an insolent good-humour. This is a private room, and holds private company.
I know that, I answered, but it holds a friend of mine, whom I want to see and who wants to see me.
The man laughed rudely. Very likely, he said, that the company in the Dolphin are friends of yours, and then, as I was still pressing forward, he put out his hand as if to stay me.
This angered me; and taking the knave by the collar, I swung him aside so briskly that he went staggering across the hall and brought up ruefully humped against a settle. Before he could come at me again the door of the Dolphin opened, and Captain Marmaduke appeared upon the threshold. He looked in some astonishment from the rogue scowling on the settle to me flushed with anger.
Heyday, lad, he said, are you having a bout of fisticuffs to keep your hand in?
This fellow, I said, tried
to hinder me from entering yonder room, and I did but push him aside out of my path.
Hum! said Captain Marmaduke, twas a lusty push, and cleared your course, certainly. Well, well, I like you the better, lad, for not being lightly balked in your business. And therewith he led me into the Dolphin.
There was a sea-coal fire in the grate, for the day was raw and the glow welcome. Beside the fire an elderly gentleman sat in an arm-chair. He had a black silk skull-cap on his head, and his face was wrinkled and his eyes were bright, and his face, now turned upon me, showed harsh. I knew of course that he was Lancelots other uncle, he who would never suffer that I should set foot within his gates. Indeed, his face in many points resembled that of his brother as much as an ugly face can resemble a fair one. There was a likeness in the forehead and there was a likeness in the eyes, which were something of the same china-blue colour, though of a lighter shade, and with only cold unkindness there instead of the genial kindness of the Captains.
A man stood on the other side of the open fireplace, a man of about forty-five, of something over the middle height and marvellously well-built. He was clad in what, though it was not distinctly a seamans habit, yet suggested the ways of the sea, and there was a kind of foppishness about his rig which set me wondering, for I was used to a slovenly squalor or a slovenly bravery in the sailors I knew most of. He was a handsome fellow, with dark curling hair and dark eyes, and a dark skin that seemed Italian.
I have heard men say that there is no art to read the minds complexion in the face. These fellows pretend that your villain is often smooth-faced as well as smooth-tongued, and pleases the eye to the benefit of his mischievous ends. Whereas, on the other hand, many an honest fellow is damned for a scoundrel because with the nature of an angel he has the mask of a fiend. In which two fancies I have no belief. A rogue is a rogue all the world over, and flies his flag in his face for those who can read the bunting. He may flatter the light eye or the cold eye, but the warm gaze will find some lurking line by the lip, some wryness of feature, some twist of the devils fingers in his face, to betray him. And as for an honest man looking like a rogue, the thing is impossible. I have seen no small matter of marvels in my time even, as I think, the great sea serpent himself, though this is not the time and place to record it but I have never seen the marvel of a good man with a bad mans face, and it was my first and last impression that the face of Cornelys Jensen was the face of a rogue.
CHAPTER IX THE TALK IN THE DOLPHIN
Brother, he said, this is Master Ralph Crowninshield, of whom you have often heard from Lancelot.
Aye, said the old man, looking at me without any salutation. Aye, I have heard of him from Lancelot.
Captain Marmaduke now turned towards the other man, who had never taken his eyes off me since I entered the room.
Cornelys Jensen, here is Master Ralph Crowninshield, your shipmate that is to be.
Cornelys Jensen came across the room in a couple of swinging strides and held out his hand to me. Something in his carriage reminded me of certain play-actors who had come to the town once. This man carried himself like a stage king. We clasped hands, and he spoke.
Salutation, shipmate.
Then we unclasped, and he returned to his post by the fireplace with the same exaggeration of action as before.
The old man broke a short silence. Well, Marmaduke, why have you brought this boy here?
The Captain motioned me to a seat, which I took, and sat back himself in his former place.
Because the boy is going with me, and I thought that you might have something to say to him before he went.
Something to say to him?