There are times in the affairs of humans when events move so rapidly that the mind cannot discern the links from one to the next, when confusion and a multiplicity of impulses rise up and overcome the senses.

Lil had made her way to the rear of the tavern, ignoring catcalls and whistles. She had knelt down at the side of the stranger's chair in the smoky thick noise, and begged him wih tears in her eyes to tell her news of Richard Jones, Welshman, sailor and owner of her yearning heart. The stranger had made her rise and sit by him, and in a kindly but strangely subdued voice he told her of the smoke, the cannon roaring, the splintering of timber and the screams of spilled blood on the decks of the Pelican. He told her of the courage and strength of the sailor of her dreams, and told her how he had taken the boy, after the battle was past, and how they had lowered him into the endless arms of the warm Caribbean. And Lily had thanked him and sat weeping in silence for a while.

And then it is not clear exactly what occurred. People came in and went out, and among those arriving for the comfort of the tavern was a slender tall monk, cowled and hooded from the November winds, who slipped past the crowded tables and spoke in whispers to the hostler's wife. A gentleman who had arrived at the same moment, broad shouldered and well-dressed, followed the strange character part way to the rear of the room, and then simply stood, his back against the rough plastered wall, obseerving the crowd, one hand on the hilt of an elegant but clearly efficient rapier. And at the same time, in the ways of sailors all around the world, the handful of drunken foc's'le hands seated at the large table in the middle conceived of a disagreement about which flowed considerable passions.

"Nayhr, ya barmy scut!! 'T was all our Drake's doing, an' wivvout 'im, ya'd be a subject of some effin' Don this hour, I tell ye!! The dogs would own Westminster!! "

"Garn ye cabbage!! SHE would never 'ave let it 'appen!! Drake, er no Drake; Bess is the one saved that little mess proper!! I'm fer the queen, by Gawd, an' she'da had them Dons in irons even if that fancy-pants sea-dog 'ad slept 'til noon!!"

"I'll give you a fancy pants sea dog in yer bum, ye dim-witted biscuit headed shad!! Drake was the only one who had the wit to deal with 'em; he knows them Dons, 'e does. Diddn't he sail circles round 'em in their own ocean, then? Answer me that!! He knew what 'e was about, an' wuz the on'y one 'at did!! Wivvout 'im the Queen woulda just laid down and let Phillip 'ave 'is wicked way wivver, no more spine than a common alley cat!!"

Their voices had risen and their tempers were about to break. Several others were chiming in, and the big-jawed bosun who had just maligned his Queen's moral fiber was grinning around looking for moral support when his opponent, a long-armed cooper, reached for his short dirk, unable to speak and purple-faced with outrage and drink.

His antagonist, reaching for his own long sheath-knife, was prepared to settle the matter with blood, but found himself unable to continue on his destructive course by the simple fact that he could no longer breath; his entire body was being drawn up in a surge of cold force by the steely arm of the stranger who was lifting him to his feet from behind, one muscled forearm clamped around his neck, and the glittering point of a dirk held to his throat by the other.

The crash of falling chairs and the rattle of blades being pulled free on several sides was the only sound; a startled frozen silence hung in the smoky air of the Unicorn.