Rewards and Fairies - Penn State University

Rewards and Fairies
worked with beforetimes off they Dutch sands, but, naturally, come slidderin’ past Fairlight in a great smoky pat vambrished
folk took more note of them. When Queen Bess made him with red gun-fire, and our ships flyin’ forth and duckin’ in
knight, he sent my Aunt a dried orange stuffed with spiceries again. The smoke-pat sliddered over to the French shore, so I
to smell to. She cried outrageous on it. She blamed herself for knowed Frankie was edgin’ the Spanishers toward they Dutch
her foretellings, having set him on his won’erful road; but I sands where he was master. I says to my Aunt, “The smoke’s
reckon he’d ha’ gone that way all withstanding. Curious how thinnin’ out. I lay Frankie’s just about scrapin’ his hold for a
close she foretelled it! The world in his hand like an apple, an’ few last rounds shot. ’Tis time for me to go.”
he burying his best friend, Mus’ Doughty—’
‘“Never in them clothes,” she says. “Do on the doublet I bought
‘Never mind for Mus’ Doughty,’ Puck interrupted. ‘Tell us you to be made burgess in, and don’t you shame this day.”
where you met Sir Francis next.’
‘So I mucked it on, and my chain, and my stiffed Dutch
‘Oh, ha! That was the year I was made a burgess of Rye— breeches and all.
the same year which King Philip sent his ships to take En- ‘“I be comin’, too,” she says from her chamber, and forth
gland without Frankie’s leave.’
she come pavisandin’ like a peacock—stuff, ruff, stomacher
‘The Armada!’ said Dan contentedly. ‘I was hoping that and all. She was a notable woman.’
would come.’
‘But how did you go? You haven’t told us,’ said Una.
‘I knowed Frankie would never let ‘em smell London smoke, ‘In my own ship—but half-share was my Aunt’s. In the
but plenty good men in Rye was two-three minded about the Antony of Rye, to be sure; and not empty-handed. I’d been
upshot. ’Twas the noise of the gun-fire tarrified us. The wind loadin’ her for three days with the pick of our yard. We was
favoured it our way from off behind the Isle of Wight. It ballasted on cannon-shot of all three sizes; and iron rods and
made a mutter like, which growed and growed, and by the straps for his carpenters; and a nice passel of clean three-inch
end of a week women was shruckin’ in the streets. Then they oak planking and hide breech-ropes for his cannon, and gubs
174