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 bulkhead, 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?”
 
“The ship laboureth—the sea is grievous and contrary,” replied the lad; “and by what I can learn of my fellow that steereth us, we shall do well, indeed, if we come dryshod to land.”
 
“Ha!” said the baron, gloomily, “thus shall every terror attend upon the passage of my soul! Sir, pray rather to live hard, that ye may die easy, than to be fooled and fluted all through life, as to the pipe and tabor, and, in the last hour, be plunged among misfortunes!  Howbeit, I have that upon my mind that must not be delayed.  We have no priest aboard?”
 
“None,” replied Dick.
 
“Here, then, to my secular interests,” resumed Lord Foxham: “ye must be as good a friend to me dead, as I found you a gallant enemy when I was living.  I fall in an evil hour for me, for England, and for them that trusted me.  My men are being brought by Hamley—he that was your rival; they will rendezvous in the long holm at Holywood; this ring from off my finger will accredit you to represent mine orders; and I shall write, besides, two words upon this paper, bidding Hamley yield to you the damsel.  Will he obey?  I know not.”
 
“But, my lord, what orders?” inquired Dick.
 
“Ay,” quoth the baron, “ay—the orders;” and he looked upon Dick with hesitation.  “Are ye Lancaster or York?” he asked, at length.
 
“I shame to say it,” answered Dick, “I can scarce clearly answer.  But so much I think is certain: since I serve with Ellis Duckworth, I serve the house of York.  Well, if that be so, I declare for York.”
 
“It is well,” returned the other; “it is exceeding well.  For, truly, had ye said Lancaster, I wot not for the world what I had done.  But sith ye are for York, follow me.  I came hither but to watch these lords at Shoreby, while mine excellent young lord, Richard of Gloucester, [1] prepareth a sufficient force to fall upon and scatter them.  I have made me notes of their strength, what watch they keep, and how they lie; and these I was to deliver to my young lord on Sunday, an hour before noon, at St. Bride’s Cross beside the forest.  This tryst I am not like to keep, but I pray you, of courtesy, to keep it in my stead; and see that not pleasure, nor pain, tempest, wound, nor pestilence withhold you from the hour and place, for the welfare of England lieth upon this cast.”
 
“I do soberly take this up on me,” said Dick.  “In so far as in me lieth, your purpose shall be done.”
 
“It is good,” said the wounded man. “My lord duke shall order you farther, and if ye obey him with spirit and good will, then is your fortune made.  Give me the lamp a little nearer to mine eyes, till that I write these words for you.”
 
He wrote a note “to his worshipful kinsman, Sir John Hamley;” and then a second, which he-left without external superscripture.
 
“This is for the duke,” he said.  “The word is ‘England and Edward,’ and the counter, ‘England and York.’”
 
“And Joanna, my lord?” asked Dick.
 
“Nay, ye must get Joanna how ye can,” replied the baron.  “I have named you for my choice in both these letters; but ye must get her for yourself, boy.  I have tried, as ye see here before you, and have lost my life.  More could no man do.”
 
By this time the wounded man began to be very weary; and Dick, putting the precious papers in his bosom, bade him be of good cheer, and left him to repose.
 
The day was beginning to break, cold and blue, with flying squalls of snow.  Close under the lee of the Good Hope, the coast lay in alternate rocky headlands and sandy bays; and further inland the wooded hill-tops of Tunstall s............