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It
touches the question of dimidiation or impalement in the coat of
mine uncle, Sir John Leighton of Shropshire, who took unto wife
the widow of Sir Henry Oglander of Nunwell. The case has been
much debated by pursuivants and kings-of-arms. But how is it
with you, master shipman?"
"Ill enough, my fair lord. The cog must go about anon, and I
know not how we may keep the water out of her."
"Go call Sir Oliver!" said Sir Nigel, and presently the portly
knight made his way all astraddle down the slippery deck.
"By my soul, master-shipman, this passes all patience!" he cried
wrathfully. "If this ship of yours must needs dance and skip
like a clown at a kermesse, then I pray you that you will put me
into one of these galeasses. I had but sat down to a flask of
malvoisie and a mortress of brawn, as is my use about this hour,
when there comes a cherking, and I find my wine over my legs and
the flask in my lap, and then as I stoop to clip it there comes
another cursed cherk, and there is a mortress of brawn stuck fast
to the nape of my neck.


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