A wild desire flashed across the young man to break once and for all with the puzzles and struggles of the past, and throw in his life with the ruffian who sat opposite to him.  He knew his own powers, he could lead, he was cool and prompt; he might be a stupid enough fellow in many ways, but he was a born soldier.  Astbury would get together enough of men to follow him; only too many good soldiers were then laying by their useless swords.  Why should he not sail in the wake of Drake and Raleigh, and make himself a name?  Ay, and found new commonwealths in the land of sunset?