'When I brought my sweet news to Lindens, Sebastian
was limewashing the kitchen-beams for Mother. He
loved her like a son.
"'Cheer up, lad," he says. "God's where He was. Only
you and I chance to be pure pute asses. We've been
tricked, Hal, and more shame to me, a sailor, that I did
not guess it before! You must leave your belfry alone,
forsooth, because the Devil is adrift there; and I cannot
get my serpentines because John Collins cannot cast
them aright. Meantime Andrew Barton hawks off the
Port of Rye. And why? To take those very serpentines
which poor Cabot must whistle for; the said serpentines,
I'll wager my share of new continents, being now hid
away in St Barnabas' church-tower. Clear as the Irish
coast at noonday!"
"They'd sure never dare to do it," I said; "and, for
another thing, selling cannon to the King's enemies is
black treason - hanging and fine."
"'It is sure, large profit. Men'll dare any gallows for
that. I have been a trader myself," says he. "We must be
upsides with 'em for the honour of Bristol."
'Then he hatched a plot, sitting on the limewash
bucket.
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