`` How call ye her ? '' he asked , pointing to the little vessel . `` They call her the Good Hope , of Dartmouth , '' replied the loiterer . `` Her captain , Arblaster by name . He pulleth the bow oar in yon skiff . '' This was all that Lawless wanted . Hurriedly thanking the man , he moved round the shore to a certain sandy creek , for which the skiff was heading . There he took up his position , and as soon as they were within earshot , opened fire on the sailors of the Good Hope . `` What ! Gossip Arblaster ! '' he cried . `` Why , ye be well met ; nay , gossip , ye be right well met , upon the rood ! And is that the Good Hope ? Ay , I would know her among ten thousand ! -- a sweet shear , a sweet boat ! But marry come up , my gossip , will ye drink ? I have come into mine estate which doubtless ye remember to have heard on . I am now rich ; I have left to sail upon the sea ; I do sail now , for the most part , upon spiced ale . Come , fellow ; thy hand upon ` t ! Come , drink with an old shipfellow ! ''
Skipper XXXXX , a long-faced , elderly , weather-beaten man , with a knife hanging about his neck by a plaited cord , and for all the world like any modern seaman in his gait and bearing , had hung back in obvious amazement and distrust .
Arblaster Ay Dartmouth earshot fire left oar right rood shipfellow