It being midmorning, the tavern was deserted except for a young serving maid scrubbing the flagstone floor. She was short and plump, coarse-haired and befreckled, but her eyes had a merry light and her nose a pertness. Leaving Ebenezer to select a table, Burlingame approached her familiarly and engaged her in conversation which, though spoken in voices too low for Ebenezer to hear distinctly, soon had her laughing and wagging a finger.
"The duckling swore she'd naught but fish in the larder," he said when presently he returned, "but when I told her 'twas a laureate she was feeding, that could lay the place low with Hudibrastics, she agreed to stay your pen with roast of beef. 'Twill be here anon."
"You twit me," Ebenezer said modestly.
Burlingame shrugged. "Methinks I'll change costume the while it's fixing."
"But our baggage is on the wharf."
"No matter. Scotch cloth to silk is oft a life-time's journey, but silk to Scotch cloth can be traversed in a minute." He went again to the serving maid, who smiled at his approach, and spoke softly to her, at the same time pinching her smartly. She squealed and, one hand on her hip, pointed laughing to a door beside the fireplace. Burlingame then took her arm as though to lead her along with him; when she drew back he whispered seriously in her ear and whispered again when she gasped and shook her head. She glanced towards Ebenezer, who blushed at once and feigned preoccupation with the set of his cravat; Burlingame whispered a third message that turned her bright eyes coyly, and left the room through the indicated door. The girl lingered for two minutes in the room. Then she took another sharp look at Ebenezer, sniffed, and flounced through the same door.
Though he was not a little embarrassed by the small drama, the poet was pleased enough to be alone for a short while, not only to ponder the wondrous adventures of his friend, but also to take stock of his own position.
"I have been so occupied gaping and gasping at Henry," said he to himself, "I have near forgot who I am, and what business I'm embarked upon. Not a line have I writ since London, nor thought at all of logging my journey."
He forthwith spread before him on the table his double-entry ledger, open to that page whereon was transcribed the first quatrain of his official career, and fetching quill and ink from a stand on the wall next the serving-bar, considered what should grace the facing-page.
"I can say naught whate'er of my journey hither, in the Marylandiad," he reflected, "for I saw but little of't. Moreover, 'twere fitter I commenced the poem from Plymouth, where most who sail to Maryland take their leave of Albion's rocks; 'twill pitch the reader straightway on his voyage." Pursuing farther this line of thought, he resolved to write his epic Maryiandiad in the form of an imaginary voyage, thinking thereby to discover to the reader the delights of the Province with the same freshness and surprise wherewith they would discover themselves to the voyager-poet. It was with pleasure and a kind of awe, therefore, that he recalled the name of his ship.
"Poseidon!" he thought. "It bodes well, i'faith! A very Virgil for companion, and the Earth-Shaker himself for ferry-master to this Elysium!"
And turning the happy figure some minutes in his mind, at length he wrote:
Let Ocean roar his damn'dest Gale:
Our Planks shan't leak; our Masts shan't fail.
With great Poseidon at our Side
He seemeth neither wild nor wide.
At the foot he appended E.C., Gent, Pt & Lt of Md, and beamed with satisfaction. While he was thus engaged, two men came into the tavern and noisily closed the door. They were sailors, by the look of them — but not ordinary seamen — and like enough for twins in manner and appearance: both were short and heavy, red-nosed, squint-eyed, and black-whiskered, and wore their natural hair; both were dressed in black breeches and coats, and sported twin-peaked hats of the same color. Each wore a brace of pistols at his right, stuck down through his sash, and a cutlass at his left, and carried besides a heavy black cane.
"Thou'rt my guest for beer, Captain Scurry," growled one.
"Nay, Captain Slye," growled the other, "for thou'rt mine."
With that, still standing, they both commenced to bang their sticks upon a table for service. "Beer!" one cried, and "Beer!" cried the other, and they glowered, scowled, and grumbled when their cries brought no response. So fearsome was their aspect, and fierce their manner, Ebenezer decided they were pirate captains, but he had not the courage to flee the room.
"Beer!" they called again, and again smote the table with their sticks to no avail. Ebenezer buried himself in his notebook, spread out before him on the table, and prayed they'd take no notice of his presence.
" 'Tis my suspicion, Captain Slye," one of them said, "that we must serve ourselves or seek our man with dry throats."
"Then let us draw our beer and have done with't, Captain Scurry," replied the other. "The rascal can't be far away. I shall draw two steins, and haply he'll come in ere we've drunk 'em off."
"Haply, haply," the first allowed. "But 'tis I shall draw the steins, for thou'rt my guest."
"The devil on't!" cried the second. " 'Twas I spake first, and thou'rt my guest, God damn ye!"
"I'll see thee first in Hell," said Number One. "The treat is mine."
"Mine!" said Number Two, more threateningly.
"Thine in a pig's arse!"
"I shall draw thy beer, Captain Slye," said Number Two, fetching out a pistol, "or draw thy blood."
"And I thine," said Number One, doing likewise, "else thou'rt a banquet for the worms."
"Gentlemen, gentlemen!" Ebenezer cried, "In Heav'n's name hold thy fire!"
Instantly he regretted his words. The two men turned to glare at him, still pointing pistols at each other, and their expressions grew menacing.
" 'Tis none of my affair," he said hastily, for they began moving toward him. "Not the least of my affair, I grant that. What I meant to say was, 'twould be an honor and a pleasure to me to buy for both of you, and draw as well, if you'll but show me how. Nay, no matter, I'll wager I can do't right off, with no instruction, for many's the time in Locket's I've seen it done. Aye," he went on, backing away from them, "there's naught of skill or secret to't but this, to edge the glass against the tap if the keg be wild and let the beer slide gently in; or be't flat, allow the stream some space to fall ere't fill the glass, that striking harder 'twill foam the more — "
"Cease!" commanded Number One, and fetched the table such a clap of the cane that Ebenezer's notebook jumped. "I'God, Captain Slye, did e'er ye hear such claptrap?"
"Nor such impertinence, Captain Scurry," answered the other, "that not content to meddle in our business, the knave would have't all his own."
"Nay, gentlemen, you mistake me!" Ebenezer cried.
"Prithee close thy mouth and sit," said Captain Scurry, pointing with his stick to the poet's chair. Then to his companion he declared, "Ye must excuse me while I put a ball 'twixt this ninny's eyes."
" 'Twill be my pleasure," the other replied, "and then we'll drink in peace." Both pistols now were aimed at Ebenezer.
"No guest of mine shall stoop to such trifles," said the first. Ebenezer, standing behind his chair, looked again to the door through which Burlingame and the serving maid had passed.