Chapter Three.

Chapter Three.The Portugal fleet, which the little English squadron was now rapidly approaching, looked formidable indeed, numbering as it did four times as many tall ships as the latter, but not a heart among the stout men who formed the crew of the Red Dragon, the Serpent, or the Lion, the Sunshine or Moonshine, quailed with the thoughts of combating against odds so great.Good Master Walker, the minister of the Lion, went round among the crew as they stood at their quarters, reminding them that they were about to fight for their sovereign, their country, their honour, and their religion.“And, dear lads,” he added, “now is not the time to preach to you; but I have taught you all faithfully the truth, and would beseech all who have listened to remember and adhere by it.”The admiral had formed his line of battle, and, passing by each ship on his way to form the van, hailed through his speaking-trumpet, encouraging the crews to fight bravely for St. George and merry England, and promising them, if they gained the victory, the rich freights of all the ships they could capture. It was a bold feat of the gallant admiral thus to sail into the very midst of his foes, who he knew must surround him.The Portugals were formed, as has been said, in a semicircle, with the concave side of their line turned toward the English, so that they might quickly overlap them—in a land fight an important point to gain, but at sea of slight advantage. The English were formed as a wedge; the Red Dragon led, the Serpent following, then came the two pinnaces, the Lion and Lion’s Whelp bringing up the rear.As the hostile fleets drew near, drums began to beat and trumpets to bray forth their discordant sounds, when, with a loud crashing roar, the artillery on both sides opened. The great guns sent forth their round shots, and the culverins, sakers, falconets, and murtherers their death-dealing showers of iron and lead, causing havoc and destruction wherever they fell. Ill pleased were the Portugals with this proceeding. Numbers were falling on board every ship. In vain they called on their saints to improve their aim and strengthen their powder—the shot seemed to have no effect on the heretical Englishmen—the saints paid them no attention. They had found a Tartar, and surrounded him, but were as disagreeably placed as if they had been dancing round an exploding magazine. Bravely plied the gallant English their guns. As long as any one of them had legs to stand on or arms to work with he refused to desert his quarters. If one stopped for a moment from working his gun, it was to help a messmate bind a handkerchief round a wounded limb, or to tie one round his own leg or side. Officers and men vied with each other as to who should perform deeds most worthy of fame. The Portugals, on the contrary, though their trumpets brayed forth far louder than those of their foes, forgetful of their ancient renown, hastened below the instant they were wounded, however slight their hurts, crying out for the medico to come and help them; and some, when the English shots rattled on board, were seen to run away from their guns, even though unwounded. Still, numbers in so close a fight gave a great advantage to the Portugals.The admiral’s ship, the Red Dragon, especially was hard pressed, the enemy seeming resolved to destroy her first, hoping thus to gain an easy victory over the rest. But the brave Lancaster was not a man to be daunted. As fresh foes pressed around him he kept shouting to his crew—“The more the merrier, lads! the more the merrier! We’ve pills enough on board to dose them all till they’ll wish they’d come to some other doctor for their physic.”Captain Wood, too, was scarcely less hard pressed. He had sent the Lion’s Whelp ahead to the support of the Sunshine and Moonshine, which seemed in danger of being altogether overwhelmed by the huge ships of the enemy which clustered around them, and thus the stout Lion had to encounter a whole host of foes by herself.“Come one, come all!” shouted Captain Wood. “Brave lads, we are ready for them!”“Ay, ay! one and all!” echoed Antony Waymouth. “Hurrah for merry England! Give it them, lads! A few more doses like that and they’ll cry peccavi and strike their flags.”“Peccavimus you should have said,” remarked Raymond, whom Waymouth was passing as he hurried from gun to gun to assure himself that all were being fought to the best advantage.“Ay, marry, not one, but fifty, will sing that song to-day, coz,” said Antony, laughing.In truth, even in the heat of battle both officers and men indulged themselves in cutting jokes whenever an occasion occurred. Not, however, that the fight was any joking matter, for never in those seas had a more desperate one taken place. The brave men on board the Lion were falling thickly, some to rise no more, others to be carried below and placed in the hands of the surgeon, and to these Master Walker was rendering all the assistance in his power, and affording spiritual counsel and consolation at the same time. It was a dark, close place down in the depths of the ship, dimly lighted by two lanterns overhead, with a table in the centre and hammocks slung on either side, already occupied by wounded men. Others lay on the deck, beneath, and one poor fellow was on the table, the surgeon and his assistants standing over him examining a dreadfully shattered limb. Master Walker was holding his hand and giving him some wine, of which, with vinegar and burnt feathers, the place was redolent, although they could not overcome that indescribable odour, dreadful and sickening, found wherever wounded men are collected together.“It must be done, lad,” said Master Walker kindly. “There’s no help for it; the leg must come off to save thy life.”“What! lose my leg! never again to dance a hornpipe on Deerbrook Green among the lassies of our village? No more to come the double-shuffle and hear the merry clapping of the old people’s hands? I’d as lief lose my life! But let the surgeon do his worst,” murmured the lad, who was one of Waymouth’s followers; “I’ll bear it.”“Like a lion, I hope, lad,” said the minister; “and pray to Heaven for strength—that’s where you’ll get the most.”“Seldom I’ve ever gone there for any thing,” answered the lad with a sigh, and then, following the good minister, he endeavoured to utter a prayer. It soon broke into groans, for the surgeons were operating on his limb, and these, in spite of his resolution, were succeeded by shrieks and cries, echoed by many of his poor shipmates who lay around him in the same sad plight. Not even the roar of the cannon overhead and the crashing of timbers, the shouts of the combatants and the rattle of the small arms, and the braying of the trumpets and other instruments, could altogether overpower those sad cries. Yet the sounds on deck grew louder and louder.“There must be terrible work, I fear me, going on, Ap Reece,” observed Master Walker to the Welsh surgeon, who had come round to feel the patient’s wrist; “we’ve had no one brought down for the last five minutes.”The surgeon made no answer, but signed to the minister to pour some cordial down the young seaman’s throat. “More—more! or he’ll slip through our fingers,” he whispered. The minister obeyed. The lad opened his eyes, and turning them towards him with an expression of gratitude, gasped out—“Tell mother I’ve not forgotten the—”A convulsive shudder passed over his frame, the blood started from beyond the tourniquet, and before the assistants could replace it the youth was a corpse.“Peace be with him,” said the minister solemnly, as the body was quickly removed to give place to another yet breathing victim of battle. Such is one of the many dark sides to the pictures of warfare. If this alone were to be seen, few would be eager for the combat.“No more coming,” once more observed the minister. “Either we must be hard pressed indeed, or have put the Portugals to flight.”“I fear me much the former,” said Ap Reece. “I’d lief take a sword and go help our brave fellows. If the foe gain the day, they’ll not leave one of us alive to tell the tale. What say you, Master Walker? will you come?”“Nay, Ap Reece, abide where you are. Every man at his proper work—you tending the hurt, I speaking the truth to the salvation of their souls. Thus should we be found even were the end of the world approaching.”The high-spirited Welshman returned to his post, and though he had no more legs and arms to cut off, there was ample work for his skill. The dreadful uproar continued. It was evident that some of the enemy’s ships had got alongside, and that the Lion’s crew were engaged in repelling the Portugals who were attempting to board. Who was gaining the day it was impossible to say. It was a time truly of anxious suspense. Ap Reece could at length endure it no longer.“If you go not on deck to learn how it fares with our men, Master Walker, I must go myself,” he exclaimed; and, seeing that the minister did not move, he seized a sword which had been brought below by a wounded man, and sprang up the ladder. The chaplain looked hesitatingly in the same direction.“No, no; my duty is with the suffering and dying, though I’d lief strike a blow as in days of yore for our reformed faith and merry England,” said he to himself, and again turned to attend to a sorely wounded man by whose side he had been sitting.Ap Reece soon gained the deck; he had been in many a fight, but never in a more desperate one. The Lion was closely surrounded by a forest of masts, with shattered spars, and burning sails, and severed ropes and blocks swinging to and fro, and splinters rattling from aloft, while round shots and bullets were flying thickly about, and from every side the loud clashing of steel showed that the combatants were striving hand to hand. The Portugals were attempting to board on every side of the Lion, but no sooner did they reach her deck than they were driven back with loss, and often followed on board their own ships. A new combatant had just come up on the Lion’s quarter, and was pouring his crew on board. Waymouth caught sight of what was occurring, and with a handful of men sprang to repel the boarders. Hard pressed by the leader of the Portugals, he was well-nigh being driven back at the moment Ap Reece reached the deck. The surgeon saw at a glance where his services would be of most use, and shouting at the top of his voice a Welsh war-cry, he rushed to the lieutenant’s assistance. Down before his sturdy blade went foe after foe till he reached Waymouth’s side.“A rescue! a rescue!” he shouted, and cleaving to the chin the head of one of the lieutenant’s many assailants, the rest sprang hastily back, some into their own vessel, and some, missing their footing, overboard. “On, on!” shouted Waymouth. “On, on, and the enemy’s ours!” cried Ap Reece; and following the retreating boarders they drove them across the deck of their ship, cutting down many, till the remainder cried out for quarter, when their flag was hauled down and the capture was complete.“We have more prizes to make before the day is over, lads,” cried Waymouth, and at that instant another large Portugal ship driving against the prize, he, with the brave Ap Reece and a number of followers, threw himself on her deck. So fierce was this onslaught that the enemy did not stand a moment, but tumbling below one over the other, or in their fright jumping overboard, or casting down their weapons, they allowed speedy possession to be taken of their ship. Waymouth and his companions then lashed the two prizes together, and not without difficulty regained the Lion, on the other side of which more of the enemy were congregated. Of one Captain Wood had taken possession. Waymouth and Ap Reece now sprang on board another about midships, when, dividing their forces, one swept forward and the other aft, driving their loudly vociferating foes before them till the Portugal’s flag was hauled down.“Hurrah! hurrah! my brave boys,” shouted Waymouth. “Four prizes in the Lion’s maw—the fattest in all the fleet, too, I have a notion—one more—yonder she comes. Strike fast, and strike home.”Thus shouting, he seized the helm of the prize, and steered her so as to fall foul of yet another big Portugal ship.“Shall we once more tempt fortune?” cried Waymouth to the fighting surgeon. “What say you, Ap Reece? There must be ducats not a few aboard our tall friend here.”“But one answer to that question. On, on!” exclaimed the Welshman.And no sooner did the sides of the two ships grind together than Waymouth lashed them by the shrouds, and then sprang on board the new-comer. She was full of men who showed every intention to defend her; but undaunted by numbers, the Englishmen threw themselves among them, with their sharp swords flashing rapidly, and soon hewed a lane for themselves from one side to the other. They had begun to cut a second when the Portugals, dreading the result, hauled down their own flag, and yielded. By this time such of the Portugal ships as were in a condition to escape were making the best of their way under all sail to the northward, leaving the rest in the hands of the English, who were in no condition to follow. The victors had indeed suffered severely, though it was some time before Waymouth, and those with him, could ascertain the true state of affairs. At length he brought his last-captured prize up to the Lion, where the rest were collected, and having secured his prisoners, and left a few men on board to watch them, he returned to his own ship. The Lion with her torn sails, shattered spars, and ropes hanging in disordered festoons, looked any thing but like a victor, yet she was in a better plight than her consorts. Far ahead lay the admiral with three of the enemy’s ships he had captured, but his masts were tottering, and it was evident that he had suffered severely in the fight. The Serpent, though she had taken a couple of prizes, was even in a worse condition, while of the three smaller ships the poor little Moonshine had disappeared altogether, the Lion’s Whelp lay a dismasted hulk on the waters, and the Sunshine appeared in a sinking condition. Three prizes, proofs of their prowess, lay near them, and it was to be hoped that some of the crew of the Moonshine had found safety on board them.And now the surgeon, Ap Reece, his fiery blood beginning to cool, bethought him that he ought to go and look after his patients below, while Waymouth began to make inquiries as to who had been killed and who wounded among his shipmates. His grief was sincere when he heard of his young follower’s death. He looked round, also, anxiously for Raymond. He was nowhere to be seen. Was he on board any of the prizes? No; such and such officers had charge of them. He sprang below. Master Walker could give him no tidings of his friend. He inquired eagerly of all the surviving officers. It was remembered that he had headed a party who had repulsed the boarders from a large Portugal ship, which had afterwards sheered off. Several men were missing who could not be accounted for, and it was supposed possible that he, with them, had gone on board the enemy, and that they had been carried off as prisoners. Waymouth hoped such might be the case, as it was the only chance of again seeing his friend, but, attached though he was to him, he had no time just then to mourn his loss.Fearful had been the slaughter on board the Lion and the injuries she had received, while so many of her people had been taken off to man the prizes that not enough remained to repair the damages which she had received. The energies of every one on board unwounded were taxed to the utmost, nor could assistance be expected from the other ships, which had enough to do to look after their own prizes. The ships now closed up with each other, and the Lion was able to hail the admiral’s ship.“Sad news—sad news,” was the answer. “Captain Lancaster was slain at the beginning of the fight, and though we have gained the victory we have bought it with the loss of half our men.”The loss on board the Serpent was also very great, though she had suffered less than the admiral’s ship; but the Lion’s Whelp and the Sunshine had lost, in proportion to their crews, as many men as the latter; while of the unfortunate Moonshine scarcely a third had escaped on board the prizes: all her wounded had gone down in her. The captain of the Serpent was also desperately wounded, and Captain Wood sent Waymouth on board to see him and receive his orders, as he was now chief in command. Waymouth, finding his way among the dying and wounded, reached the cockpit where Captain Nicholas Parker lay. He was groaning with anguish, which the surgeon, who stood by his side, was endeavouring to alleviate with a cordial. In vain. The groans continued, but grew fainter. The surgeon felt the captain’s pulse. Waymouth stepped up.“I have come to receive orders from the admiral, for such he now is, since Captain Lancaster has been killed,” he said.“Our brave captain will never give orders more,” answered the surgeon with much feeling. “Your captain, Master Waymouth, will be admiral ere many minutes are over. We’ve gained victory at heavy cost.”Before Waymouth left the ship Captain Parker had breathed his last, and he pulled hastily back to announce the sad event to Captain Wood, who had now become commander-in-chief, but seemed but little elated with the circumstance. Master Walker was pacing the deck to recover from the effects of the close atmosphere he had endured below, and the harrowing scenes he had witnessed.“This is what men call glory, and what young men sigh after and long to engage in,” he observed, while Waymouth stood quiet for a few seconds discussing some food which had been brought to him, for he had no time to go below. “Look there; see what man’s avarice and rage and folly have brought about in a few short hours.”He pointed with a melancholy glance at a number of slain arranged around the mainmast, and to several wounded who had been mercifully brought on deck to breathe a purer atmosphere than that to be found below; then to the Lion’s shattered masts and bulwarks; and, lastly, moving his hand round to their almost dismasted, and yet more shattered, consorts and prizes, from one of which, taken by the Serpent, at that instant flames were seen to burst forth. The Lion had but one boat which could float, and into her an officer and crew jumped and pulled away to the assistance of the burning vessel, the men being urged to speed, not impossibly, in the hope of obtaining some of the plunder on board.The Serpent had sent off two of her boats, and the Red Dragon another, but the Portugals either would not go to the assistance of their countrymen or their boats were knocked to pieces, or the officers in charge of the prizes would not let them go, for no assistance was sent, though several were near the burning vessel. The boats pulled rapidly through the water; and good cause they had so to do, for the flames rose higher and higher, bursting out from all the ports from stem to stern till there appeared not a spot on which a human being could stand unscorched by the fire. Busily as all on board the Lion were employed, they stopped to gaze on the scene. Even amid the flames they could see the unhappy men rushing here and there, seeking in vain for safety: some were casting themselves into the sea; others, unable probably to swim, waited anxiously for the boats. In vain! in vain! Ere the boats reached them the burning masts and spars rose gradually up from the hull—up, up, they shot into the air; the deck followed, the flames increasing with tenfold fury, a loud report announcing that the magazine had exploded, and that the rich argosy, with all still living on board, had been hurried to destruction. Those in the boats pulled back, endeavouring to avoid the burning fragments of spars and wreck which came hissing in a thick shower around them. Then recollecting that some might yet be floating near where the wreck had been, like true British tars they again dashed on, in the hope of rescuing them. So rapidly had the catastrophe occurred after the first outbreak of the fire, that Waymouth had not moved from the minister’s side.“There, there—!” continued the latter, “surely such work as that is the invention of Satan—that roaring lion who is ever going about seeking whom he may devour. What mad folly in men thus to yield to him, and to destroy each other at his will and beck!”“What you say, Master Walker, may be true—all very true; but we are in for it, and must carry through our enterprise, or perish,” exclaimed Waymouth, with rather more impatience than he was wont to address the minister. “We have taken prizes enough to make every man of us wealthy for the rest of our lives; but our loss of brave fellows has been heavy, I grant you, and I’d give up every ducat that falls to my share for the sake of knowing what has become of Edward Raymond, and all the gold I may ever possess to get him back safe aboard here.”“He was a worthy gentleman, and I pray that he may still be reckoned among the living,” said the chaplain, and he was about to commence an exhortation to his young friend when Waymouth was called away to attend to one of the numberless duties which, in consequence of the loss of many of his messmates, now fell to his lot.As soon as shot-holes had been plugged, the wounded masts and spars strengthened, the shrouds set up, and damaged rigging repaired, an examination of the prizes commenced. The wealth they contained surpassed even the expectation of the adventurers. Besides gold and silver in bars, there were cases of diamonds and pearls and other precious stones, and casks and cases of rich spices, and strange and rich silks, and a variety of other articles from India. In truth, there appeared to be more than enough to enrich even the commonest seaman of the squadron, although by far the largest share would go to the officers.Fortunately, the weather remained calm, or more of the ships would have gone to the bottom. Every one exerted himself to the utmost, and good reason he had so to do, for a storm might arise, or the enemy return with greater force, and all the treasure gained by so much toil and bloodshed might be lost.Before the day was over, the signal was made from the Serpent that Captain Parker had ceased to breathe. Captain Wood therefore assumed the chief command, and ordered the Red Dragon to come near that he might go on board her, leaving Waymouth in command of the Lion.A consultation of all the chief officers was now held, and it was determined to abandon and destroy the Sunshine and Lion’s Whelp, to shift their crews on board the two largest and least injured of the Portugal ships, to select a third on board which to put all the prisoners, and to burn the remainder. The plan was at once put into execution, and the wealth of all her prizes was carried on board the Lion. Not, however, till two days had passed were the prizes sufficiently gutted of their stores and provisions to be abandoned. A short time before nightfall they were set on fire; and it was a sad though a fine sight to see eight tall ships burning away together. Master Walker again had reason to shake his head.“Another example of man’s folly,” he exclaimed. “See yon beautiful fabrics, on which so much thought, time, and labour was expended, being destroyed in a few short minutes!”“But you would not have us tow the useless hulls round the world, Master Walker, would you?” asked Waymouth, with some little hastiness not to be wondered at.“No, Captain Waymouth, but I would that the hulls were not useless, and still freighted with honest merchandise, that we and the Portugals were at peace, as Christian men should be, and each pursuing our own course as gentlemen adventurers for our own profit and advantage and that of our respective countries. When I joined the expedition I understood such was to be the case. We were to be armed to resist attack, as is lawful—not to attack others, which is wrong. But all these doings of blood and destruction have opened my eyes, and made me wish that I had remained quiet at home, even though my stipend was small and precarious. I love you right well, as you of a surety do know, Captain Waymouth, and I tell you that no good can come of these doings.”“I see not the strength of your reasoning, Master Walker,” said Waymouth. “We all knew when we left Old England that we were embarking in an adventure in which we should meet with hard blows as well as rich prizes. We are in no wise worse than Drake, and see what honours have been heaped on him.”“I say nothing against the powers that be; and her gracious majesty may have had her reasons for honouring Sir Francis; but there are persons who consider his expedition round the world as worthy only of a sea-rover of old or of a downright pirate,” observed the minister.“Let be, let be, Master Walker,” exclaimed Waymouth petulantly; “I can brook more from you than from any man alive, but I have heard enough.”The minister was too wise to proceed, but he shook his head mournfully.The prisoners were now all collected on board one ship. Among the wild spirits found among the English crews some were not wanting who suggested that they should be sent adrift without compass, guns, or provisions; some even hinted that to bore holes in the ship’s bottom would be the surest way of disposing of them; others considered that it would be wise to keep them as prisoners, and to insure their keeping with the fleet they should only be furnished day by day with the necessary provisions, and that two ships should be appointed especially to watch them. More generous counsels, however, prevailed.“No, no, by my halidom!” exclaimed Captain Wood; “Portugals though they are, they have fought bravely, and like honest gentlemen shall be treated. We’ll give them arms to defend their lives, and provisions to fill their insides, and a compass to find their way to some one of their own ports or factories on the coast of the Indies, and all we’ll demand of them is that if they find any Englishmen in the same plight as they are themselves that they treat them in the same way as they are treated by us.”Waymouth warmly seconded the admiral’s proposal; so did several of the superior officers, though others grumbled at letting the prisoners off without a ransom, or trusting to their honour to return the favour they were to receive.Away sailed the Portugal ship with all the prisoners on board; not, however, without Waymouth having extracted a promise from all the officers to make inquiries for his friend Raymond, and to let him know, if alive, where he was to be found. Waymouth hoped that among them some at least would do their utmost to redeem their promise.Once more the English fleet was sailing proudly over the seas, but sadly diminished in the number of their men. The wealth collected seemed prodigious in the eyes of the crews, and little short of that obtained by Drake of the Spaniards. Still their success only made them greedy for more, and the seamen especially expressed their aversion to the trading part of the enterprise, and loudly proclaimed their desire to cruise against any enemy to be found—Dutch, if Portugals could not be found, or Spaniards if they could be fallen in with. Waymouth, especially, found that he had a very mutinously inclined crew to deal with. Who was the chief instigator he determined to discover, in the hope that by punishing him he might bring the rest under better discipline.The officer next in command to him was Miles Carlingford, an honest, straight-forward seaman, on whom he knew that he could depend as well as he could on Master Walker and the surgeon Ap Reece as to faithfulness; but Master Walker was a non-combatant, and would be averse to any stringent measures; and Ap Reece, from his hot-headed impetuosity, would be likely to betray any counsel with which he was intrusted.Captain Wood had brought two cabin-boys with him—or, as they would now be called, midshipmen—and these he had left under Waymouth’s especial care. Poor fellows! early indeed were they to be initiated into the stern realities of life. It would have been difficult to find a stronger contrast than between the two lads, and yet they were great friends. The eldest, Alfred Stanhope, was of high birth, of which he was fully conscious. He was refined in appearance and manners, and was light-hearted and gay in the extreme. He was never out of spirits or out of humour, and was utterly indifferent to danger. His talents, however, were not great, and the knowledge he did possess was very superficial. His father was a spendthrift and a ruined man, and had allowed him to come to sea in the hope of his being provided for in one way or another.His companion, Oliver Marston, was the son of a stout English yeoman to whom Captain Wood’s family was under some obligations, and, as a way of repaying him, he had offered to take Oliver, one of ten sons, on an adventure through which he would be certain to secure his fortune. The lad, though he had never seen a ship except worked on tapestry, had no objection to go to sea. He was a short, stout, strongly-built little fellow, able to hold his own with all competitors. While poor Alfred Stanhope had been nurtured in the lap of luxury, Oliver had been brought up in the roughest style, and was therefore much better able than his companion to buffet with the storms of life they were doomed to encounter. He had much more sense and shrewdness in his round little head than might have been supposed, while all about him was sterling stuff of the toughest nature, except his heart, in one respect, and that was as soft and gentle as that of a true sailor is said to be. Oliver was a favourite with Waymouth, who, though he did not spoil him, encouraged him to speak more openly to him than he allowed any one else to do except Master Walker.It was night. Waymouth was seated in his cabin. A lamp hung from the beam above, the light of which fell on a chart he was anxiously scanning. Unwonted cares oppressed even his buoyant spirit. His ship had suffered much; he had a large amount of wealth on board; his crew was much weakened, some were disaffected, and he was about to enter seas difficult of navigation, and where typhoons might be expected. He mourned, too, his friend Raymond’s loss, though he did not believe that he was dead, but that he had been carried off a prisoner by the enemy. Still, how could he hear of him, and how rescue him if he was a prisoner? He fell into a reverie. He was aroused by the sentry at the announcement that an officer wished to see him.“Let him come,” was the answer; and Oliver Marston stood before him.“What now, Oliver?” asked the captain.“You know, Captain Waymouth, that I am not a tale-bearer; but I’ve just heard some matters which I bethought me I ought to convey to you without delay,” answered Marston. “There’s mutiny in the ship, sir, or what may come to worse.”“Ah! how come you to know that, boy?” asked the captain anxiously, for the announcement somewhat confirmed his own suspicions.The youngster answered promptly—“It is my first watch, sir, and as I had no fancy for turning in for a short time, I lay down for a snooze on a chest outside the boatswain’s cabin. I was afraid of oversleeping myself, so quickly awoke, and was about to jump up, when I heard voices near me. The words were spoken in an undertone, as if the speakers desired not to be overheard. Who the speakers were, I am not certain; they talked of the wealth that was on board, and how you and the other captains would get the lion’s share, but that if they acted with spirit and stuck together they might have the whole of it.”“And you heard the whole of this, and were not dreaming, boy?”“Every word, sir, and I was wide awake,” answered Oliver.“You have done well to come to me at once,” said the captain. “Speak to no one of what you have heard, and appear even to your messmates as if all were going on right. To-morrow morning I will communicate with the admiral, and we will soon have these would-be mutineers in limbo. Have you no idea who were the speakers?”“I like not, sir, to bring an accusation against any man without perfect certainty, but to the best of my belief there were Peter Hagger, the boatswain, and John Moss, his mate, among the chief speakers,” answered Oliver. “As to the rest I might be mistaken, but I think not of those two. I recognised also Dick Soper’s voice, and he is not likely to be left out if such work is proposed.”“He’ll swing ere long at the yard-arm, an’ I mistake not; but enough now, lad,” said the captain. “Keep counsel and your eyes about you, and we’ll defeat the rebels. They’ll attempt nothing while we are with the admiral; they know him, and I thought they knew me too. Who has the first watch?”“Mr Carlingford, sir,” said Marston.“Tell him to keep close up with the admiral, as I want to speak him at dawn,” said Waymouth; “and call me should the weather give signs of change. You have acted most commendably.”The lad took his leave well pleased with the praise bestowed on him by his captain, and very indifferent to the danger to which he as well as all the officers on board were exposed.The young captain sat for some time meditating on the matter. He could not tell how many of the crew might be engaged in the plot, and on what support the conspirators depended. He might discover who were the ringleaders, but find that the greater part of the crew sided with them. Caution, courage, and decision would be required—he trusted he should not be wanting in either of the three. The last few days had been a time of unusual exertion and care. He required rest to restore his well-nigh exhausted energies. Examining his fire-arms with more care than usual, and placing his sword by his side ready for instant use, though he firmly believed that no attempt would be made by the mutineers, he threw himself on his bed. He had resolved to take the Lion next morning under the guns of the Red Dragon, and having informed Captain Wood of what he knew, call out the three men whose voices young Marston recognised, and send them on board the flagship for punishment. He soon, however, forgot his anxieties in a sound sleep. He was awoken by the voice of Oliver Marston loudly calling him.“What is it?” he asked, starting up with his sword grasped in his hand.

The Portugal fleet, which the little English squadron was now rapidly approaching, looked formidable indeed, numbering as it did four times as many tall ships as the latter, but not a heart among the stout men who formed the crew of the Red Dragon, the Serpent, or the Lion, the Sunshine or Moonshine, quailed with the thoughts of combating against odds so great.

Good Master Walker, the minister of the Lion, went round among the crew as they stood at their quarters, reminding them that they were about to fight for their sovereign, their country, their honour, and their religion.

“And, dear lads,” he added, “now is not the time to preach to you; but I have taught you all faithfully the truth, and would beseech all who have listened to remember and adhere by it.”

The admiral had formed his line of battle, and, passing by each ship on his way to form the van, hailed through his speaking-trumpet, encouraging the crews to fight bravely for St. George and merry England, and promising them, if they gained the victory, the rich freights of all the ships they could capture. It was a bold feat of the gallant admiral thus to sail into the very midst of his foes, who he knew must surround him.

The Portugals were formed, as has been said, in a semicircle, with the concave side of their line turned toward the English, so that they might quickly overlap them—in a land fight an important point to gain, but at sea of slight advantage. The English were formed as a wedge; the Red Dragon led, the Serpent following, then came the two pinnaces, the Lion and Lion’s Whelp bringing up the rear.

As the hostile fleets drew near, drums began to beat and trumpets to bray forth their discordant sounds, when, with a loud crashing roar, the artillery on both sides opened. The great guns sent forth their round shots, and the culverins, sakers, falconets, and murtherers their death-dealing showers of iron and lead, causing havoc and destruction wherever they fell. Ill pleased were the Portugals with this proceeding. Numbers were falling on board every ship. In vain they called on their saints to improve their aim and strengthen their powder—the shot seemed to have no effect on the heretical Englishmen—the saints paid them no attention. They had found a Tartar, and surrounded him, but were as disagreeably placed as if they had been dancing round an exploding magazine. Bravely plied the gallant English their guns. As long as any one of them had legs to stand on or arms to work with he refused to desert his quarters. If one stopped for a moment from working his gun, it was to help a messmate bind a handkerchief round a wounded limb, or to tie one round his own leg or side. Officers and men vied with each other as to who should perform deeds most worthy of fame. The Portugals, on the contrary, though their trumpets brayed forth far louder than those of their foes, forgetful of their ancient renown, hastened below the instant they were wounded, however slight their hurts, crying out for the medico to come and help them; and some, when the English shots rattled on board, were seen to run away from their guns, even though unwounded. Still, numbers in so close a fight gave a great advantage to the Portugals.

The admiral’s ship, the Red Dragon, especially was hard pressed, the enemy seeming resolved to destroy her first, hoping thus to gain an easy victory over the rest. But the brave Lancaster was not a man to be daunted. As fresh foes pressed around him he kept shouting to his crew—

“The more the merrier, lads! the more the merrier! We’ve pills enough on board to dose them all till they’ll wish they’d come to some other doctor for their physic.”

Captain Wood, too, was scarcely less hard pressed. He had sent the Lion’s Whelp ahead to the support of the Sunshine and Moonshine, which seemed in danger of being altogether overwhelmed by the huge ships of the enemy which clustered around them, and thus the stout Lion had to encounter a whole host of foes by herself.

“Come one, come all!” shouted Captain Wood. “Brave lads, we are ready for them!”

“Ay, ay! one and all!” echoed Antony Waymouth. “Hurrah for merry England! Give it them, lads! A few more doses like that and they’ll cry peccavi and strike their flags.”

“Peccavimus you should have said,” remarked Raymond, whom Waymouth was passing as he hurried from gun to gun to assure himself that all were being fought to the best advantage.

“Ay, marry, not one, but fifty, will sing that song to-day, coz,” said Antony, laughing.

In truth, even in the heat of battle both officers and men indulged themselves in cutting jokes whenever an occasion occurred. Not, however, that the fight was any joking matter, for never in those seas had a more desperate one taken place. The brave men on board the Lion were falling thickly, some to rise no more, others to be carried below and placed in the hands of the surgeon, and to these Master Walker was rendering all the assistance in his power, and affording spiritual counsel and consolation at the same time. It was a dark, close place down in the depths of the ship, dimly lighted by two lanterns overhead, with a table in the centre and hammocks slung on either side, already occupied by wounded men. Others lay on the deck, beneath, and one poor fellow was on the table, the surgeon and his assistants standing over him examining a dreadfully shattered limb. Master Walker was holding his hand and giving him some wine, of which, with vinegar and burnt feathers, the place was redolent, although they could not overcome that indescribable odour, dreadful and sickening, found wherever wounded men are collected together.

“It must be done, lad,” said Master Walker kindly. “There’s no help for it; the leg must come off to save thy life.”

“What! lose my leg! never again to dance a hornpipe on Deerbrook Green among the lassies of our village? No more to come the double-shuffle and hear the merry clapping of the old people’s hands? I’d as lief lose my life! But let the surgeon do his worst,” murmured the lad, who was one of Waymouth’s followers; “I’ll bear it.”

“Like a lion, I hope, lad,” said the minister; “and pray to Heaven for strength—that’s where you’ll get the most.”

“Seldom I’ve ever gone there for any thing,” answered the lad with a sigh, and then, following the good minister, he endeavoured to utter a prayer. It soon broke into groans, for the surgeons were operating on his limb, and these, in spite of his resolution, were succeeded by shrieks and cries, echoed by many of his poor shipmates who lay around him in the same sad plight. Not even the roar of the cannon overhead and the crashing of timbers, the shouts of the combatants and the rattle of the small arms, and the braying of the trumpets and other instruments, could altogether overpower those sad cries. Yet the sounds on deck grew louder and louder.

“There must be terrible work, I fear me, going on, Ap Reece,” observed Master Walker to the Welsh surgeon, who had come round to feel the patient’s wrist; “we’ve had no one brought down for the last five minutes.”

The surgeon made no answer, but signed to the minister to pour some cordial down the young seaman’s throat. “More—more! or he’ll slip through our fingers,” he whispered. The minister obeyed. The lad opened his eyes, and turning them towards him with an expression of gratitude, gasped out—

“Tell mother I’ve not forgotten the—”

A convulsive shudder passed over his frame, the blood started from beyond the tourniquet, and before the assistants could replace it the youth was a corpse.

“Peace be with him,” said the minister solemnly, as the body was quickly removed to give place to another yet breathing victim of battle. Such is one of the many dark sides to the pictures of warfare. If this alone were to be seen, few would be eager for the combat.

“No more coming,” once more observed the minister. “Either we must be hard pressed indeed, or have put the Portugals to flight.”

“I fear me much the former,” said Ap Reece. “I’d lief take a sword and go help our brave fellows. If the foe gain the day, they’ll not leave one of us alive to tell the tale. What say you, Master Walker? will you come?”

“Nay, Ap Reece, abide where you are. Every man at his proper work—you tending the hurt, I speaking the truth to the salvation of their souls. Thus should we be found even were the end of the world approaching.”

The high-spirited Welshman returned to his post, and though he had no more legs and arms to cut off, there was ample work for his skill. The dreadful uproar continued. It was evident that some of the enemy’s ships had got alongside, and that the Lion’s crew were engaged in repelling the Portugals who were attempting to board. Who was gaining the day it was impossible to say. It was a time truly of anxious suspense. Ap Reece could at length endure it no longer.

“If you go not on deck to learn how it fares with our men, Master Walker, I must go myself,” he exclaimed; and, seeing that the minister did not move, he seized a sword which had been brought below by a wounded man, and sprang up the ladder. The chaplain looked hesitatingly in the same direction.

“No, no; my duty is with the suffering and dying, though I’d lief strike a blow as in days of yore for our reformed faith and merry England,” said he to himself, and again turned to attend to a sorely wounded man by whose side he had been sitting.

Ap Reece soon gained the deck; he had been in many a fight, but never in a more desperate one. The Lion was closely surrounded by a forest of masts, with shattered spars, and burning sails, and severed ropes and blocks swinging to and fro, and splinters rattling from aloft, while round shots and bullets were flying thickly about, and from every side the loud clashing of steel showed that the combatants were striving hand to hand. The Portugals were attempting to board on every side of the Lion, but no sooner did they reach her deck than they were driven back with loss, and often followed on board their own ships. A new combatant had just come up on the Lion’s quarter, and was pouring his crew on board. Waymouth caught sight of what was occurring, and with a handful of men sprang to repel the boarders. Hard pressed by the leader of the Portugals, he was well-nigh being driven back at the moment Ap Reece reached the deck. The surgeon saw at a glance where his services would be of most use, and shouting at the top of his voice a Welsh war-cry, he rushed to the lieutenant’s assistance. Down before his sturdy blade went foe after foe till he reached Waymouth’s side.

“A rescue! a rescue!” he shouted, and cleaving to the chin the head of one of the lieutenant’s many assailants, the rest sprang hastily back, some into their own vessel, and some, missing their footing, overboard. “On, on!” shouted Waymouth. “On, on, and the enemy’s ours!” cried Ap Reece; and following the retreating boarders they drove them across the deck of their ship, cutting down many, till the remainder cried out for quarter, when their flag was hauled down and the capture was complete.

“We have more prizes to make before the day is over, lads,” cried Waymouth, and at that instant another large Portugal ship driving against the prize, he, with the brave Ap Reece and a number of followers, threw himself on her deck. So fierce was this onslaught that the enemy did not stand a moment, but tumbling below one over the other, or in their fright jumping overboard, or casting down their weapons, they allowed speedy possession to be taken of their ship. Waymouth and his companions then lashed the two prizes together, and not without difficulty regained the Lion, on the other side of which more of the enemy were congregated. Of one Captain Wood had taken possession. Waymouth and Ap Reece now sprang on board another about midships, when, dividing their forces, one swept forward and the other aft, driving their loudly vociferating foes before them till the Portugal’s flag was hauled down.

“Hurrah! hurrah! my brave boys,” shouted Waymouth. “Four prizes in the Lion’s maw—the fattest in all the fleet, too, I have a notion—one more—yonder she comes. Strike fast, and strike home.”

Thus shouting, he seized the helm of the prize, and steered her so as to fall foul of yet another big Portugal ship.

“Shall we once more tempt fortune?” cried Waymouth to the fighting surgeon. “What say you, Ap Reece? There must be ducats not a few aboard our tall friend here.”

“But one answer to that question. On, on!” exclaimed the Welshman.

And no sooner did the sides of the two ships grind together than Waymouth lashed them by the shrouds, and then sprang on board the new-comer. She was full of men who showed every intention to defend her; but undaunted by numbers, the Englishmen threw themselves among them, with their sharp swords flashing rapidly, and soon hewed a lane for themselves from one side to the other. They had begun to cut a second when the Portugals, dreading the result, hauled down their own flag, and yielded. By this time such of the Portugal ships as were in a condition to escape were making the best of their way under all sail to the northward, leaving the rest in the hands of the English, who were in no condition to follow. The victors had indeed suffered severely, though it was some time before Waymouth, and those with him, could ascertain the true state of affairs. At length he brought his last-captured prize up to the Lion, where the rest were collected, and having secured his prisoners, and left a few men on board to watch them, he returned to his own ship. The Lion with her torn sails, shattered spars, and ropes hanging in disordered festoons, looked any thing but like a victor, yet she was in a better plight than her consorts. Far ahead lay the admiral with three of the enemy’s ships he had captured, but his masts were tottering, and it was evident that he had suffered severely in the fight. The Serpent, though she had taken a couple of prizes, was even in a worse condition, while of the three smaller ships the poor little Moonshine had disappeared altogether, the Lion’s Whelp lay a dismasted hulk on the waters, and the Sunshine appeared in a sinking condition. Three prizes, proofs of their prowess, lay near them, and it was to be hoped that some of the crew of the Moonshine had found safety on board them.

And now the surgeon, Ap Reece, his fiery blood beginning to cool, bethought him that he ought to go and look after his patients below, while Waymouth began to make inquiries as to who had been killed and who wounded among his shipmates. His grief was sincere when he heard of his young follower’s death. He looked round, also, anxiously for Raymond. He was nowhere to be seen. Was he on board any of the prizes? No; such and such officers had charge of them. He sprang below. Master Walker could give him no tidings of his friend. He inquired eagerly of all the surviving officers. It was remembered that he had headed a party who had repulsed the boarders from a large Portugal ship, which had afterwards sheered off. Several men were missing who could not be accounted for, and it was supposed possible that he, with them, had gone on board the enemy, and that they had been carried off as prisoners. Waymouth hoped such might be the case, as it was the only chance of again seeing his friend, but, attached though he was to him, he had no time just then to mourn his loss.

Fearful had been the slaughter on board the Lion and the injuries she had received, while so many of her people had been taken off to man the prizes that not enough remained to repair the damages which she had received. The energies of every one on board unwounded were taxed to the utmost, nor could assistance be expected from the other ships, which had enough to do to look after their own prizes. The ships now closed up with each other, and the Lion was able to hail the admiral’s ship.

“Sad news—sad news,” was the answer. “Captain Lancaster was slain at the beginning of the fight, and though we have gained the victory we have bought it with the loss of half our men.”

The loss on board the Serpent was also very great, though she had suffered less than the admiral’s ship; but the Lion’s Whelp and the Sunshine had lost, in proportion to their crews, as many men as the latter; while of the unfortunate Moonshine scarcely a third had escaped on board the prizes: all her wounded had gone down in her. The captain of the Serpent was also desperately wounded, and Captain Wood sent Waymouth on board to see him and receive his orders, as he was now chief in command. Waymouth, finding his way among the dying and wounded, reached the cockpit where Captain Nicholas Parker lay. He was groaning with anguish, which the surgeon, who stood by his side, was endeavouring to alleviate with a cordial. In vain. The groans continued, but grew fainter. The surgeon felt the captain’s pulse. Waymouth stepped up.

“I have come to receive orders from the admiral, for such he now is, since Captain Lancaster has been killed,” he said.

“Our brave captain will never give orders more,” answered the surgeon with much feeling. “Your captain, Master Waymouth, will be admiral ere many minutes are over. We’ve gained victory at heavy cost.”

Before Waymouth left the ship Captain Parker had breathed his last, and he pulled hastily back to announce the sad event to Captain Wood, who had now become commander-in-chief, but seemed but little elated with the circumstance. Master Walker was pacing the deck to recover from the effects of the close atmosphere he had endured below, and the harrowing scenes he had witnessed.

“This is what men call glory, and what young men sigh after and long to engage in,” he observed, while Waymouth stood quiet for a few seconds discussing some food which had been brought to him, for he had no time to go below. “Look there; see what man’s avarice and rage and folly have brought about in a few short hours.”

He pointed with a melancholy glance at a number of slain arranged around the mainmast, and to several wounded who had been mercifully brought on deck to breathe a purer atmosphere than that to be found below; then to the Lion’s shattered masts and bulwarks; and, lastly, moving his hand round to their almost dismasted, and yet more shattered, consorts and prizes, from one of which, taken by the Serpent, at that instant flames were seen to burst forth. The Lion had but one boat which could float, and into her an officer and crew jumped and pulled away to the assistance of the burning vessel, the men being urged to speed, not impossibly, in the hope of obtaining some of the plunder on board.

The Serpent had sent off two of her boats, and the Red Dragon another, but the Portugals either would not go to the assistance of their countrymen or their boats were knocked to pieces, or the officers in charge of the prizes would not let them go, for no assistance was sent, though several were near the burning vessel. The boats pulled rapidly through the water; and good cause they had so to do, for the flames rose higher and higher, bursting out from all the ports from stem to stern till there appeared not a spot on which a human being could stand unscorched by the fire. Busily as all on board the Lion were employed, they stopped to gaze on the scene. Even amid the flames they could see the unhappy men rushing here and there, seeking in vain for safety: some were casting themselves into the sea; others, unable probably to swim, waited anxiously for the boats. In vain! in vain! Ere the boats reached them the burning masts and spars rose gradually up from the hull—up, up, they shot into the air; the deck followed, the flames increasing with tenfold fury, a loud report announcing that the magazine had exploded, and that the rich argosy, with all still living on board, had been hurried to destruction. Those in the boats pulled back, endeavouring to avoid the burning fragments of spars and wreck which came hissing in a thick shower around them. Then recollecting that some might yet be floating near where the wreck had been, like true British tars they again dashed on, in the hope of rescuing them. So rapidly had the catastrophe occurred after the first outbreak of the fire, that Waymouth had not moved from the minister’s side.

“There, there—!” continued the latter, “surely such work as that is the invention of Satan—that roaring lion who is ever going about seeking whom he may devour. What mad folly in men thus to yield to him, and to destroy each other at his will and beck!”

“What you say, Master Walker, may be true—all very true; but we are in for it, and must carry through our enterprise, or perish,” exclaimed Waymouth, with rather more impatience than he was wont to address the minister. “We have taken prizes enough to make every man of us wealthy for the rest of our lives; but our loss of brave fellows has been heavy, I grant you, and I’d give up every ducat that falls to my share for the sake of knowing what has become of Edward Raymond, and all the gold I may ever possess to get him back safe aboard here.”

“He was a worthy gentleman, and I pray that he may still be reckoned among the living,” said the chaplain, and he was about to commence an exhortation to his young friend when Waymouth was called away to attend to one of the numberless duties which, in consequence of the loss of many of his messmates, now fell to his lot.

As soon as shot-holes had been plugged, the wounded masts and spars strengthened, the shrouds set up, and damaged rigging repaired, an examination of the prizes commenced. The wealth they contained surpassed even the expectation of the adventurers. Besides gold and silver in bars, there were cases of diamonds and pearls and other precious stones, and casks and cases of rich spices, and strange and rich silks, and a variety of other articles from India. In truth, there appeared to be more than enough to enrich even the commonest seaman of the squadron, although by far the largest share would go to the officers.

Fortunately, the weather remained calm, or more of the ships would have gone to the bottom. Every one exerted himself to the utmost, and good reason he had so to do, for a storm might arise, or the enemy return with greater force, and all the treasure gained by so much toil and bloodshed might be lost.

Before the day was over, the signal was made from the Serpent that Captain Parker had ceased to breathe. Captain Wood therefore assumed the chief command, and ordered the Red Dragon to come near that he might go on board her, leaving Waymouth in command of the Lion.

A consultation of all the chief officers was now held, and it was determined to abandon and destroy the Sunshine and Lion’s Whelp, to shift their crews on board the two largest and least injured of the Portugal ships, to select a third on board which to put all the prisoners, and to burn the remainder. The plan was at once put into execution, and the wealth of all her prizes was carried on board the Lion. Not, however, till two days had passed were the prizes sufficiently gutted of their stores and provisions to be abandoned. A short time before nightfall they were set on fire; and it was a sad though a fine sight to see eight tall ships burning away together. Master Walker again had reason to shake his head.

“Another example of man’s folly,” he exclaimed. “See yon beautiful fabrics, on which so much thought, time, and labour was expended, being destroyed in a few short minutes!”

“But you would not have us tow the useless hulls round the world, Master Walker, would you?” asked Waymouth, with some little hastiness not to be wondered at.

“No, Captain Waymouth, but I would that the hulls were not useless, and still freighted with honest merchandise, that we and the Portugals were at peace, as Christian men should be, and each pursuing our own course as gentlemen adventurers for our own profit and advantage and that of our respective countries. When I joined the expedition I understood such was to be the case. We were to be armed to resist attack, as is lawful—not to attack others, which is wrong. But all these doings of blood and destruction have opened my eyes, and made me wish that I had remained quiet at home, even though my stipend was small and precarious. I love you right well, as you of a surety do know, Captain Waymouth, and I tell you that no good can come of these doings.”

“I see not the strength of your reasoning, Master Walker,” said Waymouth. “We all knew when we left Old England that we were embarking in an adventure in which we should meet with hard blows as well as rich prizes. We are in no wise worse than Drake, and see what honours have been heaped on him.”

“I say nothing against the powers that be; and her gracious majesty may have had her reasons for honouring Sir Francis; but there are persons who consider his expedition round the world as worthy only of a sea-rover of old or of a downright pirate,” observed the minister.

“Let be, let be, Master Walker,” exclaimed Waymouth petulantly; “I can brook more from you than from any man alive, but I have heard enough.”

The minister was too wise to proceed, but he shook his head mournfully.

The prisoners were now all collected on board one ship. Among the wild spirits found among the English crews some were not wanting who suggested that they should be sent adrift without compass, guns, or provisions; some even hinted that to bore holes in the ship’s bottom would be the surest way of disposing of them; others considered that it would be wise to keep them as prisoners, and to insure their keeping with the fleet they should only be furnished day by day with the necessary provisions, and that two ships should be appointed especially to watch them. More generous counsels, however, prevailed.

“No, no, by my halidom!” exclaimed Captain Wood; “Portugals though they are, they have fought bravely, and like honest gentlemen shall be treated. We’ll give them arms to defend their lives, and provisions to fill their insides, and a compass to find their way to some one of their own ports or factories on the coast of the Indies, and all we’ll demand of them is that if they find any Englishmen in the same plight as they are themselves that they treat them in the same way as they are treated by us.”

Waymouth warmly seconded the admiral’s proposal; so did several of the superior officers, though others grumbled at letting the prisoners off without a ransom, or trusting to their honour to return the favour they were to receive.

Away sailed the Portugal ship with all the prisoners on board; not, however, without Waymouth having extracted a promise from all the officers to make inquiries for his friend Raymond, and to let him know, if alive, where he was to be found. Waymouth hoped that among them some at least would do their utmost to redeem their promise.

Once more the English fleet was sailing proudly over the seas, but sadly diminished in the number of their men. The wealth collected seemed prodigious in the eyes of the crews, and little short of that obtained by Drake of the Spaniards. Still their success only made them greedy for more, and the seamen especially expressed their aversion to the trading part of the enterprise, and loudly proclaimed their desire to cruise against any enemy to be found—Dutch, if Portugals could not be found, or Spaniards if they could be fallen in with. Waymouth, especially, found that he had a very mutinously inclined crew to deal with. Who was the chief instigator he determined to discover, in the hope that by punishing him he might bring the rest under better discipline.

The officer next in command to him was Miles Carlingford, an honest, straight-forward seaman, on whom he knew that he could depend as well as he could on Master Walker and the surgeon Ap Reece as to faithfulness; but Master Walker was a non-combatant, and would be averse to any stringent measures; and Ap Reece, from his hot-headed impetuosity, would be likely to betray any counsel with which he was intrusted.

Captain Wood had brought two cabin-boys with him—or, as they would now be called, midshipmen—and these he had left under Waymouth’s especial care. Poor fellows! early indeed were they to be initiated into the stern realities of life. It would have been difficult to find a stronger contrast than between the two lads, and yet they were great friends. The eldest, Alfred Stanhope, was of high birth, of which he was fully conscious. He was refined in appearance and manners, and was light-hearted and gay in the extreme. He was never out of spirits or out of humour, and was utterly indifferent to danger. His talents, however, were not great, and the knowledge he did possess was very superficial. His father was a spendthrift and a ruined man, and had allowed him to come to sea in the hope of his being provided for in one way or another.

His companion, Oliver Marston, was the son of a stout English yeoman to whom Captain Wood’s family was under some obligations, and, as a way of repaying him, he had offered to take Oliver, one of ten sons, on an adventure through which he would be certain to secure his fortune. The lad, though he had never seen a ship except worked on tapestry, had no objection to go to sea. He was a short, stout, strongly-built little fellow, able to hold his own with all competitors. While poor Alfred Stanhope had been nurtured in the lap of luxury, Oliver had been brought up in the roughest style, and was therefore much better able than his companion to buffet with the storms of life they were doomed to encounter. He had much more sense and shrewdness in his round little head than might have been supposed, while all about him was sterling stuff of the toughest nature, except his heart, in one respect, and that was as soft and gentle as that of a true sailor is said to be. Oliver was a favourite with Waymouth, who, though he did not spoil him, encouraged him to speak more openly to him than he allowed any one else to do except Master Walker.

It was night. Waymouth was seated in his cabin. A lamp hung from the beam above, the light of which fell on a chart he was anxiously scanning. Unwonted cares oppressed even his buoyant spirit. His ship had suffered much; he had a large amount of wealth on board; his crew was much weakened, some were disaffected, and he was about to enter seas difficult of navigation, and where typhoons might be expected. He mourned, too, his friend Raymond’s loss, though he did not believe that he was dead, but that he had been carried off a prisoner by the enemy. Still, how could he hear of him, and how rescue him if he was a prisoner? He fell into a reverie. He was aroused by the sentry at the announcement that an officer wished to see him.

“Let him come,” was the answer; and Oliver Marston stood before him.

“What now, Oliver?” asked the captain.

“You know, Captain Waymouth, that I am not a tale-bearer; but I’ve just heard some matters which I bethought me I ought to convey to you without delay,” answered Marston. “There’s mutiny in the ship, sir, or what may come to worse.”

“Ah! how come you to know that, boy?” asked the captain anxiously, for the announcement somewhat confirmed his own suspicions.

The youngster answered promptly—“It is my first watch, sir, and as I had no fancy for turning in for a short time, I lay down for a snooze on a chest outside the boatswain’s cabin. I was afraid of oversleeping myself, so quickly awoke, and was about to jump up, when I heard voices near me. The words were spoken in an undertone, as if the speakers desired not to be overheard. Who the speakers were, I am not certain; they talked of the wealth that was on board, and how you and the other captains would get the lion’s share, but that if they acted with spirit and stuck together they might have the whole of it.”

“And you heard the whole of this, and were not dreaming, boy?”

“Every word, sir, and I was wide awake,” answered Oliver.

“You have done well to come to me at once,” said the captain. “Speak to no one of what you have heard, and appear even to your messmates as if all were going on right. To-morrow morning I will communicate with the admiral, and we will soon have these would-be mutineers in limbo. Have you no idea who were the speakers?”

“I like not, sir, to bring an accusation against any man without perfect certainty, but to the best of my belief there were Peter Hagger, the boatswain, and John Moss, his mate, among the chief speakers,” answered Oliver. “As to the rest I might be mistaken, but I think not of those two. I recognised also Dick Soper’s voice, and he is not likely to be left out if such work is proposed.”

“He’ll swing ere long at the yard-arm, an’ I mistake not; but enough now, lad,” said the captain. “Keep counsel and your eyes about you, and we’ll defeat the rebels. They’ll attempt nothing while we are with the admiral; they know him, and I thought they knew me too. Who has the first watch?”

“Mr Carlingford, sir,” said Marston.

“Tell him to keep close up with the admiral, as I want to speak him at dawn,” said Waymouth; “and call me should the weather give signs of change. You have acted most commendably.”

The lad took his leave well pleased with the praise bestowed on him by his captain, and very indifferent to the danger to which he as well as all the officers on board were exposed.

The young captain sat for some time meditating on the matter. He could not tell how many of the crew might be engaged in the plot, and on what support the conspirators depended. He might discover who were the ringleaders, but find that the greater part of the crew sided with them. Caution, courage, and decision would be required—he trusted he should not be wanting in either of the three. The last few days had been a time of unusual exertion and care. He required rest to restore his well-nigh exhausted energies. Examining his fire-arms with more care than usual, and placing his sword by his side ready for instant use, though he firmly believed that no attempt would be made by the mutineers, he threw himself on his bed. He had resolved to take the Lion next morning under the guns of the Red Dragon, and having informed Captain Wood of what he knew, call out the three men whose voices young Marston recognised, and send them on board the flagship for punishment. He soon, however, forgot his anxieties in a sound sleep. He was awoken by the voice of Oliver Marston loudly calling him.

“What is it?” he asked, starting up with his sword grasped in his hand.

Chapter Four.“What is it?” exclaimed the young captain of the Lion, as he sprang from his bed, on which he had thrown himself without undressing. He did not require the cabin-boy’s answer, for by the way the ship was heeling over he knew that it was blowing a heavy gale. “I bade you call me the instant there were signs of a change of weather,” he observed as he hurried towards the cabin-door to gain the deck.“The ship but this instant was struck by a squall, sir, and we are shortening sail as fast as we can,” said Marston, though the captain did not stay to hear his last words.The deck of the Lion appeared, as the captain reached it, to be a scene of the greatest confusion. Showers of spray, torn up from the ocean by the sudden squall, were thrown over her in dense masses. The wind howled and whistled through the rigging, the sails were flapping loudly in the gale—some torn from their bolt-ropes, others with the sheets let go, which were lashing and slashing wildly and twisting into a thousand knots. Huge blocks, too, were swinging to and fro, threatening the seamen with destruction, while some of the spars wounded in the action now gave way, and their fragments came thundering down on deck, sweeping all before them. The sea roared, the thunder in crashing peals rattled along the sky, and the forked lightning ran hissing in vivid flashes from out of the dark clouds along the foaming waves, and played round the ship. The officers were shouting to the men—many, with axes and knives in their hands, rushing here and there at the risk of their lives to cut clear the blocks and the wreck of the spars, without which it was scarcely possible to go aloft to furl the remaining sails.Waymouth at once saw that the only safe course to pursue was to put the ship before the wind. As he issued the required orders he looked out for the admiral’s ship, but the signal lanterns at her stern were nowhere to be seen. Mr Carlingford asserted that they were close to them when the squall struck the ship; so did Stanhope, who did the duty of a signal midshipman. The captain could only hope, therefore, that the admiral had at once bore up when the hurricane struck his ship. Two lights were still visible in the direction the other ships were supposed to be, but at some distance, and the Lion was apparently fast leaving them. Her crew had indeed enough to do to attend to themselves—their own safety demanded all their energies. Waymouth’s firm, commanding voice soon called order out of chaos. The ship answered her helm, and, getting before the wind once more, rose on an even keel, and flew rushing on through the darkness. Sail after sail was taken in—the loftier masts and spars had been carried away by the wind, and were mostly cut clear of the ship. The foretopmast had escaped being hit in the action, and had stood. The hurricane was increasing in power, rolling up the ocean into huge seas; higher and higher they grew, their crests curling masses of foam, following eagerly astern as wild beasts in pursuit of their flying prey. Often, while the forked lightning played round the ship, had the captain gazed anxiously at the foretopmast to ascertain how it stood the increasing pressure deprived of its usual support. He scarcely hoped to save it. The hurricane gave no signs of abating; on the contrary, it was increasing in strength.“It must be done!” he exclaimed, seizing a sharp axe; “better choose our time than let it fall when we are unprepared. Volunteers to cut away the foretopmast!”“I’ll go,” cried Miles Carlingford, and his words were echoed by several others.“No, Carlingford; you stay to take care of the ship. I can let no man lead but myself in a task of such peril.”Marston and Stanhope both volunteered, but the captain ordered them to remain with the lieutenant.Followed by a daring crew, Waymouth sprang aloft, each man armed with axe or knife. Some remained on deck to cut the ropes which led down there. All had their tasks assigned them. The least important ropes and stays were first severed.“Remember, lads, wait till I give the word, and then cut with a will,” cried the captain. As he stood on the top his axe was lifted in the air. “Cut!” he shouted, as, gleaming in the lightning, it descended with a force which half severed through the spar. Over it fell with a crash into the sea, and, free from all ropes, floated clear of the ship. The crew uttered a hearty cheer as the captain descended on deck after the performance of this gallant and skilful act without the loss of a man. None cheered more loudly than the boatswain and his two mates.The ship drove on before the hurricane, but, relieved of so much top hamper, she laboured far less than she had been doing. The storm had not abated its fury; the mad waves followed fiercely after the ship, and leaped up, foam-covered, on either side, threatening to fall down on her decks and sweep everybody from off them, or to send the stout bark herself to the bottom. The thunder roared loudly as at first, the lightning flashed vividly as ever, and ran its zigzag course crackling and hissing through the air, and along the summits of the waves, and round the storm-driven ship, now seeming to dart along her spars, and then to light with a lambent flame the summit of her masts.The crew were collected on deck ready for any work required of them, sheltering themselves as best they could under the bulwarks for fear of being washed away. Waymouth stood with his first lieutenant on the aftercastle away from the crew. He told him of the conspiracy of which he had gained information.“What think you, Carlingford?” he added. “Shall we seize the villains now, tax them with their intended crime, and call on all who are for discipline and order to rally round us; or let them go on plotting till they find a fit occasion to put their plots into execution? It were a bold stroke at such a moment, and would be sure of success.”“No one would be found willing to differ from you now,” answered the lieutenant; “I doubt, therefore, that you would ascertain who are the conspirators, and it would only give them a certain vantage-ground by showing them that you doubt their honesty.”Waymouth yielded to this advice, and allowed the opportunity of seizing the supposed mutineers to pass. He had no fear that they would make any attempt to gain possession of the ship while the gale might last. In spite of the danger in which his own ship was placed, he turned his thoughts more than once to the rest of the squadron. What had become of them? Were they still afloat, driven here and there before the hurricane, or had they all met the fate from which the Lion herself had so narrowly escaped, and foundered? He could not help dreading that the latter might have been the case.Hour after hour passed by, and the wind blew fiercely as at the commencement of the storm. No fire could be lighted. Scarcely any one had even tasted food, and the fierce spirits who had been before inclined to mutiny must have been considerably tamed by the buffeting and fasting they had been compelled to undergo.“I’ve heard say that it’s an ill wind that blows no one good,” observed Carlingford to his captain. “I doubt if the knaves who so notably were proposing to take possession of the ship will be inclined to make the attempt for some time to come.”“We will keep an eye on them, at all events,” said Waymouth. “In the present battered condition of our good ship, they will be too wise to wish to run away with her, or all the labour of putting her to rights would fall on their hands. Ah, no, the rogues! they will let us first do the work for them, and then cut our throats. I have met before with villains such as these, and know how to tackle them.”Although occasionally brave villains are found, as a rule ill-doers are cowards; and the would-be mutineers on board the Lion were no exception to the rule. The captain and his lieutenant noted those who on that awful night showed most fear, and they proved to be the very men Marston had mentioned. Even the boatswain, who was generally a bold fellow, evidently shrank from the performance of any duty of especial danger, and while the captain went aloft to cut away the topmast was not one of those who had volunteered to accompany him, though under ordinary circumstances it would have been his duty to perform the work.Morning broke at length upon the wide waste of foam-covered heaving waters, but in vain did the anxious officers of the Lion look around for any of her consorts. She herself was labouring heavily. The well was sounded. There were three feet of water in the hold; that was much in a ship of the Lion’s build. There must be a leak. The pumps were manned; all hands must work spell and spell. Even then scarcely could the leak be kept under. Those men who had shown the greatest courage during the night laboured the hardest now; the conspirators worked with an air of desperation.When the water still gained on them, “Let’s to the spirit-room, and die jovial,” cried one.“Ay, ay, to the spirit-room; a last glass before we quit the world,” was echoed by several.Deserting their stations, they rushed tumultuously to the hold. They found three soldiers stationed there, with their muskets ready to fire. Strange that the very men who were about to stupefy themselves with liquor, and so to go out of the world, were afraid of dying by the hands of their countrymen! Growling like cowed mastiffs they shrank back, some returning to the deck, and others turning into their hammocks, where they intended to remain while the ship sank.But a few only behaved thus. The greater number, as true British seamen always have done, remained at their posts to face the danger. Their perseverance was rewarded. About noon the gale began to abate, the sea to decrease. As the ship laboured less there was a hope that the leaks might be got under, and the carpenters, after sounding, reported that there was not more than the usual quantity of water in the well. The news was received with loud cheers by the crew, but they soon found that continued exertion would be necessary to keep the ship afloat. The skulkers were accordingly routed out of their berths, and compelled to take their turn at the pumps.Waymouth well knew that idleness is the mother of many a crime, and he determined that his crew should have no such excuse. As soon as the sea became calm, there was ample work to employ all hands in repairing the damages the ship had received in the battle and the storm.“Any day we may meet an enemy, and the ship must be in a state to fight him, lads,” the captain was continually remarking, especially when he saw the men slacken at their work. A course had been shaped for the Island of Java, where in the Harbour of Bantam he still entertained hopes of falling in with the rest of the squadron.Day after day the Lion continued her voyage without further adventure, and every day saw some advance made in restoring her to her former condition, so that, had she encountered a Portugal ship, she would have been as ready as ever for the fight.In appearance, however, she still wore a very battered and forlorn state. Such was the guise in which she at length entered the harbour of Bantam, making the best show that was possible, with banners and streamers flying, and drums and fifes, and other music, playing. Very different, however, was the figure they made from what they had expected, and what it would have been, had the whole English squadron sailed in at the same time. Very different also was the reception they received from the King of Bantam, in those days a powerful sovereign with a magnificent court of nobles dressed in rich robes. Perceiving the coldness of their reception, Waymouth, habiting himself in his most imposing attire, and taking a number of followers, attired in all the bravery they could command, went on shore, and, on obtaining admission to the palace, informed his majesty that his ship was only the first of a large fleet which had just obtained a glorious victory over the Portugals, and that he hoped they would soon enter the harbour and spend a large portion of their wealth among him and his people. When this fact became clear to the royal mind, the king’s conduct underwent a considerable alteration, and he seemed now only anxious to ascertain how he could best please his guests. There was no lack of entertainments of all sorts—fights of wild animals, shows, and dances. These served to amuse the men, and to prevent them from thinking of the future. But Waymouth and his chief officers could not get rid of their anxiety for their companions. They still, however, lived on in hopes. In the mean time, the captain’s chief uneasiness arose from the conduct of the boatswain, who was clearly endeavouring to ingratiate himself with the crew by overlooking their faults and shielding them from punishment. The consequence was that the discipline of the ship, spite of all the captain and superior officers could do to prevent it, became worse than it had ever been before. Miles Carlingford advised Waymouth to have Hagger and his supposed associates seized, and run up to the yard-arm, or shot; but there were many reasons against this summary proceeding. They were in the port of a treacherous people, who would very likely take advantage of any dissensions among themselves, and it was impossible to say how many of the crew might join Hagger.“We must either wait the arrival of the rest of the fleet or seize the fellow in blue water, with no one to interfere with us,” answered Waymouth.However, day after day passed by, and week after week, and the fleet did not appear. It became at last too probable that they had all foundered. Still it was possible that they might have put into some other port to refit, and might arrive at the rendezvous after all.The time passed pleasantly enough on shore, as great respect was shown to the strangers by the king and chiefs. The English, in return, tried to make themselves popular with all classes, and traded successfully with them, taking care not to allow them to know the amount of wealth they had on board. Hope grew meantime fainter and fainter, and it struck Waymouth that the behaviour of the natives towards them had of late changed for the worse. Among the merchants with whom he had dealings was one who appeared to be especially honest, and more disposed to be friendly than any of his countrymen. One day he made his appearance on board, saying that he had come to trade, and he began in the usual way, but while so engaged he contrived with a peculiar gesture to give a paper to Waymouth, on which was drawn a ship under full sail. Above the ship was a hand, showing the very gesture the merchant had just made. Waymouth could scarcely fail to understand the hieroglyphic. That the merchant wished the Lion to sail away there could be no doubt. The expression of the man’s countenance convinced him that he was friendly and in earnest. Some danger threatened. Perhaps the king had got information of the wealth contained in the ship, and intended to seize her. Whatever enemies they might have on shore, there was one who could not be kept out of the ship. The unhealthy season was approaching. Fever made its appearance on board; several were struck down with it; one after the other died; the surgeon declared that the only way of saving the lives of all on board was to put forthwith to sea.Once more the Lion was ploughing the waters of the deep. “A sail! a sail!” was the cry. A vessel was seen making for the harbour of Bantam. She might be one of the long-missing squadron. Sail was made in chase. As the Lion approached, the stranger showed the Portugal flag. Hurrah! another prize was to be made. The thought put every one in high spirits. Even the sick came up from their beds to have a look at the enemy. The object of the Portugal was to enter the harbour of Bantam before the Lion, under the belief that he would there find protection. On sprang the king of beasts. It soon became obvious, unless there was a change of wind, that the prey would have little chance of escape. The officers and crew of the Lion eagerly watched the Portugal ship, speculating on the value of her cargo, and whether she was likely to offer resistance. Such an idea was generally treated with scorn. What was the surprise, therefore, of all on board to see the chase suddenly haul up her courses and heave her maintopsail aback to await the coming of her pursuer!“Can it be that any on board are treacherous, and wish thus to gain our favour?” said Waymouth.“More likely that they are cowards all, and think discretion the best part of valour,” observed Carlingford: “we shall soon learn, though.”“Ay, that shall we,” answered Waymouth. “But, see, what flags are those? They look not as if the Portugal was in a humble mood.”As he was speaking, several flags were hoisted to the mast-heads of the stranger, conspicuous among all being that of Portugal flying above the flag of England. The sight caused a general shout of indignation among the English crew, and doubled their desire to get alongside the foe. As they got still nearer, the Portugal once more let fall his sails and stood boldly towards them, letting fly a shot in defiance.“Now this is what does the heart good,” exclaimed Waymouth in high glee. “Yonder is a brave fellow and a worthy foe. I had ten times rather meet such a one than the coward who runs away and then yields when he is caught without striking a blow. We shall take yonder gentleman—of that there is no doubt; and it will be a satisfaction to treat him as a brave man should be treated—with honour and distinction.”“I would that we could avoid fighting,” said Master Walker. “Here are we both from Europe—two ships, the remnant, probably, of the proud fleets which left our native shores—and we must needs set to work to knock each other to pieces. What, prithee, is to be gained by it?”“Honour, good Master Walker! honour, which we gentlemen of the sword sigh for and live for, not to speak of the golden doubloons and other articles of value with which these Portugals think fit to freight their ships,” answered Waymouth with a laugh which showed the cool if not light spirit with which he could enter into the deadly fight.Nearer and nearer drew the two ships. The Portugal was the first to fire, and all his guns were aimed high, as if he was anxious to cripple his opponent. The reason was obvious. His decks were crowded with men, and he hoped by running on board the English ship to take her easily with his overwhelming numbers. Waymouth saw that his proper plan was to give the Portugals a wide berth and keep firing away till he had thinned those numbers, at the same time that it was very much against his usual system and inclination, as it was against that of his followers.Now the guns of the Lion began to play vigorously, some of them being, according to the captain’s orders, fired high, and others low. Although now and then her spars and ropes were hit, she was inflicting equal injury on the rigging of her opponent, while such of her guns as were trained low were making fearful havoc among the people on the deck of the Portugal. She, in return, was employing every manoeuvre to close with the Lion, till it appeared as if the English were actually afraid of her.“This must not last longer,” exclaimed Waymouth. “British steel has seldom failed, however great the odds. We’ll give the Portugals their way.”The remark was received with a loud shout by his men, on which he ordered the Lion to be steered to close with her antagonist. The two ships met with a crash; and before the Portugals, who had been mustering on purpose, could reach the side of the Lion, her gallant crew, led by Waymouth, had boarded the enemy. And now, in truth, was shown what English steel could do; and well as many of the Portugals fought, the decks were soon cleared of all but a gallant few, who, surrounding the Portugal captain, stood at bay. That Portugal captain was a young man of a noble bearing; though wounded, he seemed resolved to resist to the last.“Yield thee—yield thee, brave senhor!” cried Waymouth. “Life and liberty shall be yours. I would fain not kill thee.”“To you, brave Captain Waymouth, I will yield me, if you will order your men to refrain from striking,” was the answer. “Truly, they strike so hard and fast, that otherwise not one of my comrades will remain alive.”“You are a brave gentleman. It shall be as you desire. We have met before, I suspect,” shouted the English captain, ordering his men to let drop the points of their weapons.The deck, so lately the scene of a fierce conflict, was in an instant quiet, though the planks, slippery with gore, and the human forms strewed thickly from one end to the other, showed the desperate nature of the drama which had there been enacted. The Portugal captain delivered his sword to Waymouth, who courteously returned it, recognising him as the bravest of those captains who had been captured in the great battle fought by the whole fleet—Don Antonio de Mello by name. The prize was richly freighted, and as the Lion would require some repairs after the battle, it was resolved to carry her back to Bantam.The return of the English so soon with a captured enemy raised them very much in the estimation of the people of Bantam, and proportionately lowered the Portugals. The repairs of both ships were soon completed, and the more valuable part of the cargo of the prize transferred to the Lion. Waymouth’s generous feelings prompted him to restore the captured ship to Don Antonio, taking his word that neither he nor his officers or men would again serve against the English. He made the proposal, however, first to his own officers, who all, with the exception of Peter Hagger, readily agreed to forego their share of the prize that the prisoners might have an opportunity of returning to their own country. The boatswain, on the contrary, vowed, that, as they had won the booty by hard fighting, they would keep it, and that he and many other good men that he knew of would not give up a nail of what was their own.“Well said, Master Hagger; let me know who are these good men of whom you speak, and your share and theirs of what is restored to the Portugals shall be calculated and given to you,” said Captain Waymouth, looking sternly at the boatswain. “I wish to deprive no man of what he considers his own; but it strikes me that when a fair estimate is made of the real value of your share it will not be worth disputing about.”Notwithstanding these remarks of the captain, Hagger insisted on having his share, but he was only able to send in the names of rather more than a dozen men who agreed with him. The supercargo, or accountant, of the Lion, was therefore summoned, and directed to make out an estimate of the value of the shares in question.“Now deduct therefrom,” said Waymouth, “wages of officers and crew of the Portugal to conduct her home; risk of capture or loss; increased risk of loss or capture of the Lion in consequence of her being short-handed.”“In that case, sir, the balance is against Master Hagger and the rest,” remarked the accountant.“I thought as much,” observed Waymouth, laughing.The boatswain’s anger and disappointment were very great when he found how the tables had been turned, and that, instead of gaining any thing, he had merely shown who were the men among the crew plotting with him.The Portugals’ satisfaction was very great when they found that they were not to be detained at Bantam, where, from the unhealthiness of the climate during the hot months, they could expect only to find graves. Don Antonio warmly expressed his gratitude.“I had some information, noble captain, which I purposed giving before parting, at all events, but which I have now a double gratification in affording,” he said, addressing Waymouth. “During that dreadful fight, when your fleet destroyed so many of ours, some few Englishmen were carried off prisoners by those which escaped. Among them was an officer who belonged to the Lion. I saw him but once, and his name I did not hear, though I doubt not that he is the friend whose fate you so much desired to learn. He is now a prisoner in the Castle of San Pedro, to the south of Goa. I had resolved to take the earliest opportunity of sending you this information according to my promise, little supposing that I should be able to deliver it under, to me, such unfortunate circumstances.”This news raised Waymouth’s spirits higher than they had been for some time. It made him feel almost sure that Raymond had survived the battle, because, as all the other officers of the Lion had been accounted for, it could be only him of whom Don Antonio spoke. On hearing this, it at once flashed across Waymouth’s thoughts that he had done unwisely in giving the prisoners their liberty with so few conditions.“I ought to have bargained that any English who might be in the hands of their countrymen should promptly be liberated without ransom; but yet—no; I have done a liberal deed, and I will not regret it. If these Portugals have any feeling of honour, they will let my friend go free when I demand him.”From a subsequent conversation with Don Antonio, Waymouth was compelled to abandon the last expressed hope. It appeared that the governor of the castle of San Pedro was a certain Don Lobo, who was noted for his ferocity and avarice, so that he was well called Lobo, which means in the Portugal tongue a wolf.Don Antonio stated that he was never known to do a noble or generous act, and that he was not likely to deliver up his prisoner unless a heavy ransom was paid, and that so bitter was his animosity against the English that it was possible he would not even set him at liberty.“Then the Lion shall force the wolf to succumb,” exclaimed Waymouth. “I will not ask you, Don Antonio, to fight against your countrymen, but I must beg you to give me such information as may assist me in liberating my friend, and I must then exact a promise from you that you will not return to San Pedro, or by any means allow notice of our approach to be carried there.”Don Antonio, without hesitation, gave the promise required, the more readily, perhaps, that the Lion would have the start of him for some days, and, being short of provisions and water, he could not attempt to make so long a passage as that from Bantam to Goa without being amply supplied with both. Yet further to prevent the chance of Don Lobo being informed of the approach of the Lion, Waymouth afterwards extracted an additional promise from Don Antonio that he would not attempt to sail for a week after her.“Ned, dear coz, we shall once more shake hands, and drink a bowl together to the health of thy lady love,” he exclaimed, apostrophising his friend while walking his quarter-deck, as the Lion, under all sail, clove her way towards the west through the limpid ocean.

“What is it?” exclaimed the young captain of the Lion, as he sprang from his bed, on which he had thrown himself without undressing. He did not require the cabin-boy’s answer, for by the way the ship was heeling over he knew that it was blowing a heavy gale. “I bade you call me the instant there were signs of a change of weather,” he observed as he hurried towards the cabin-door to gain the deck.

“The ship but this instant was struck by a squall, sir, and we are shortening sail as fast as we can,” said Marston, though the captain did not stay to hear his last words.

The deck of the Lion appeared, as the captain reached it, to be a scene of the greatest confusion. Showers of spray, torn up from the ocean by the sudden squall, were thrown over her in dense masses. The wind howled and whistled through the rigging, the sails were flapping loudly in the gale—some torn from their bolt-ropes, others with the sheets let go, which were lashing and slashing wildly and twisting into a thousand knots. Huge blocks, too, were swinging to and fro, threatening the seamen with destruction, while some of the spars wounded in the action now gave way, and their fragments came thundering down on deck, sweeping all before them. The sea roared, the thunder in crashing peals rattled along the sky, and the forked lightning ran hissing in vivid flashes from out of the dark clouds along the foaming waves, and played round the ship. The officers were shouting to the men—many, with axes and knives in their hands, rushing here and there at the risk of their lives to cut clear the blocks and the wreck of the spars, without which it was scarcely possible to go aloft to furl the remaining sails.

Waymouth at once saw that the only safe course to pursue was to put the ship before the wind. As he issued the required orders he looked out for the admiral’s ship, but the signal lanterns at her stern were nowhere to be seen. Mr Carlingford asserted that they were close to them when the squall struck the ship; so did Stanhope, who did the duty of a signal midshipman. The captain could only hope, therefore, that the admiral had at once bore up when the hurricane struck his ship. Two lights were still visible in the direction the other ships were supposed to be, but at some distance, and the Lion was apparently fast leaving them. Her crew had indeed enough to do to attend to themselves—their own safety demanded all their energies. Waymouth’s firm, commanding voice soon called order out of chaos. The ship answered her helm, and, getting before the wind once more, rose on an even keel, and flew rushing on through the darkness. Sail after sail was taken in—the loftier masts and spars had been carried away by the wind, and were mostly cut clear of the ship. The foretopmast had escaped being hit in the action, and had stood. The hurricane was increasing in power, rolling up the ocean into huge seas; higher and higher they grew, their crests curling masses of foam, following eagerly astern as wild beasts in pursuit of their flying prey. Often, while the forked lightning played round the ship, had the captain gazed anxiously at the foretopmast to ascertain how it stood the increasing pressure deprived of its usual support. He scarcely hoped to save it. The hurricane gave no signs of abating; on the contrary, it was increasing in strength.

“It must be done!” he exclaimed, seizing a sharp axe; “better choose our time than let it fall when we are unprepared. Volunteers to cut away the foretopmast!”

“I’ll go,” cried Miles Carlingford, and his words were echoed by several others.

“No, Carlingford; you stay to take care of the ship. I can let no man lead but myself in a task of such peril.”

Marston and Stanhope both volunteered, but the captain ordered them to remain with the lieutenant.

Followed by a daring crew, Waymouth sprang aloft, each man armed with axe or knife. Some remained on deck to cut the ropes which led down there. All had their tasks assigned them. The least important ropes and stays were first severed.

“Remember, lads, wait till I give the word, and then cut with a will,” cried the captain. As he stood on the top his axe was lifted in the air. “Cut!” he shouted, as, gleaming in the lightning, it descended with a force which half severed through the spar. Over it fell with a crash into the sea, and, free from all ropes, floated clear of the ship. The crew uttered a hearty cheer as the captain descended on deck after the performance of this gallant and skilful act without the loss of a man. None cheered more loudly than the boatswain and his two mates.

The ship drove on before the hurricane, but, relieved of so much top hamper, she laboured far less than she had been doing. The storm had not abated its fury; the mad waves followed fiercely after the ship, and leaped up, foam-covered, on either side, threatening to fall down on her decks and sweep everybody from off them, or to send the stout bark herself to the bottom. The thunder roared loudly as at first, the lightning flashed vividly as ever, and ran its zigzag course crackling and hissing through the air, and along the summits of the waves, and round the storm-driven ship, now seeming to dart along her spars, and then to light with a lambent flame the summit of her masts.

The crew were collected on deck ready for any work required of them, sheltering themselves as best they could under the bulwarks for fear of being washed away. Waymouth stood with his first lieutenant on the aftercastle away from the crew. He told him of the conspiracy of which he had gained information.

“What think you, Carlingford?” he added. “Shall we seize the villains now, tax them with their intended crime, and call on all who are for discipline and order to rally round us; or let them go on plotting till they find a fit occasion to put their plots into execution? It were a bold stroke at such a moment, and would be sure of success.”

“No one would be found willing to differ from you now,” answered the lieutenant; “I doubt, therefore, that you would ascertain who are the conspirators, and it would only give them a certain vantage-ground by showing them that you doubt their honesty.”

Waymouth yielded to this advice, and allowed the opportunity of seizing the supposed mutineers to pass. He had no fear that they would make any attempt to gain possession of the ship while the gale might last. In spite of the danger in which his own ship was placed, he turned his thoughts more than once to the rest of the squadron. What had become of them? Were they still afloat, driven here and there before the hurricane, or had they all met the fate from which the Lion herself had so narrowly escaped, and foundered? He could not help dreading that the latter might have been the case.

Hour after hour passed by, and the wind blew fiercely as at the commencement of the storm. No fire could be lighted. Scarcely any one had even tasted food, and the fierce spirits who had been before inclined to mutiny must have been considerably tamed by the buffeting and fasting they had been compelled to undergo.

“I’ve heard say that it’s an ill wind that blows no one good,” observed Carlingford to his captain. “I doubt if the knaves who so notably were proposing to take possession of the ship will be inclined to make the attempt for some time to come.”

“We will keep an eye on them, at all events,” said Waymouth. “In the present battered condition of our good ship, they will be too wise to wish to run away with her, or all the labour of putting her to rights would fall on their hands. Ah, no, the rogues! they will let us first do the work for them, and then cut our throats. I have met before with villains such as these, and know how to tackle them.”

Although occasionally brave villains are found, as a rule ill-doers are cowards; and the would-be mutineers on board the Lion were no exception to the rule. The captain and his lieutenant noted those who on that awful night showed most fear, and they proved to be the very men Marston had mentioned. Even the boatswain, who was generally a bold fellow, evidently shrank from the performance of any duty of especial danger, and while the captain went aloft to cut away the topmast was not one of those who had volunteered to accompany him, though under ordinary circumstances it would have been his duty to perform the work.

Morning broke at length upon the wide waste of foam-covered heaving waters, but in vain did the anxious officers of the Lion look around for any of her consorts. She herself was labouring heavily. The well was sounded. There were three feet of water in the hold; that was much in a ship of the Lion’s build. There must be a leak. The pumps were manned; all hands must work spell and spell. Even then scarcely could the leak be kept under. Those men who had shown the greatest courage during the night laboured the hardest now; the conspirators worked with an air of desperation.

When the water still gained on them, “Let’s to the spirit-room, and die jovial,” cried one.

“Ay, ay, to the spirit-room; a last glass before we quit the world,” was echoed by several.

Deserting their stations, they rushed tumultuously to the hold. They found three soldiers stationed there, with their muskets ready to fire. Strange that the very men who were about to stupefy themselves with liquor, and so to go out of the world, were afraid of dying by the hands of their countrymen! Growling like cowed mastiffs they shrank back, some returning to the deck, and others turning into their hammocks, where they intended to remain while the ship sank.

But a few only behaved thus. The greater number, as true British seamen always have done, remained at their posts to face the danger. Their perseverance was rewarded. About noon the gale began to abate, the sea to decrease. As the ship laboured less there was a hope that the leaks might be got under, and the carpenters, after sounding, reported that there was not more than the usual quantity of water in the well. The news was received with loud cheers by the crew, but they soon found that continued exertion would be necessary to keep the ship afloat. The skulkers were accordingly routed out of their berths, and compelled to take their turn at the pumps.

Waymouth well knew that idleness is the mother of many a crime, and he determined that his crew should have no such excuse. As soon as the sea became calm, there was ample work to employ all hands in repairing the damages the ship had received in the battle and the storm.

“Any day we may meet an enemy, and the ship must be in a state to fight him, lads,” the captain was continually remarking, especially when he saw the men slacken at their work. A course had been shaped for the Island of Java, where in the Harbour of Bantam he still entertained hopes of falling in with the rest of the squadron.

Day after day the Lion continued her voyage without further adventure, and every day saw some advance made in restoring her to her former condition, so that, had she encountered a Portugal ship, she would have been as ready as ever for the fight.

In appearance, however, she still wore a very battered and forlorn state. Such was the guise in which she at length entered the harbour of Bantam, making the best show that was possible, with banners and streamers flying, and drums and fifes, and other music, playing. Very different, however, was the figure they made from what they had expected, and what it would have been, had the whole English squadron sailed in at the same time. Very different also was the reception they received from the King of Bantam, in those days a powerful sovereign with a magnificent court of nobles dressed in rich robes. Perceiving the coldness of their reception, Waymouth, habiting himself in his most imposing attire, and taking a number of followers, attired in all the bravery they could command, went on shore, and, on obtaining admission to the palace, informed his majesty that his ship was only the first of a large fleet which had just obtained a glorious victory over the Portugals, and that he hoped they would soon enter the harbour and spend a large portion of their wealth among him and his people. When this fact became clear to the royal mind, the king’s conduct underwent a considerable alteration, and he seemed now only anxious to ascertain how he could best please his guests. There was no lack of entertainments of all sorts—fights of wild animals, shows, and dances. These served to amuse the men, and to prevent them from thinking of the future. But Waymouth and his chief officers could not get rid of their anxiety for their companions. They still, however, lived on in hopes. In the mean time, the captain’s chief uneasiness arose from the conduct of the boatswain, who was clearly endeavouring to ingratiate himself with the crew by overlooking their faults and shielding them from punishment. The consequence was that the discipline of the ship, spite of all the captain and superior officers could do to prevent it, became worse than it had ever been before. Miles Carlingford advised Waymouth to have Hagger and his supposed associates seized, and run up to the yard-arm, or shot; but there were many reasons against this summary proceeding. They were in the port of a treacherous people, who would very likely take advantage of any dissensions among themselves, and it was impossible to say how many of the crew might join Hagger.

“We must either wait the arrival of the rest of the fleet or seize the fellow in blue water, with no one to interfere with us,” answered Waymouth.

However, day after day passed by, and week after week, and the fleet did not appear. It became at last too probable that they had all foundered. Still it was possible that they might have put into some other port to refit, and might arrive at the rendezvous after all.

The time passed pleasantly enough on shore, as great respect was shown to the strangers by the king and chiefs. The English, in return, tried to make themselves popular with all classes, and traded successfully with them, taking care not to allow them to know the amount of wealth they had on board. Hope grew meantime fainter and fainter, and it struck Waymouth that the behaviour of the natives towards them had of late changed for the worse. Among the merchants with whom he had dealings was one who appeared to be especially honest, and more disposed to be friendly than any of his countrymen. One day he made his appearance on board, saying that he had come to trade, and he began in the usual way, but while so engaged he contrived with a peculiar gesture to give a paper to Waymouth, on which was drawn a ship under full sail. Above the ship was a hand, showing the very gesture the merchant had just made. Waymouth could scarcely fail to understand the hieroglyphic. That the merchant wished the Lion to sail away there could be no doubt. The expression of the man’s countenance convinced him that he was friendly and in earnest. Some danger threatened. Perhaps the king had got information of the wealth contained in the ship, and intended to seize her. Whatever enemies they might have on shore, there was one who could not be kept out of the ship. The unhealthy season was approaching. Fever made its appearance on board; several were struck down with it; one after the other died; the surgeon declared that the only way of saving the lives of all on board was to put forthwith to sea.

Once more the Lion was ploughing the waters of the deep. “A sail! a sail!” was the cry. A vessel was seen making for the harbour of Bantam. She might be one of the long-missing squadron. Sail was made in chase. As the Lion approached, the stranger showed the Portugal flag. Hurrah! another prize was to be made. The thought put every one in high spirits. Even the sick came up from their beds to have a look at the enemy. The object of the Portugal was to enter the harbour of Bantam before the Lion, under the belief that he would there find protection. On sprang the king of beasts. It soon became obvious, unless there was a change of wind, that the prey would have little chance of escape. The officers and crew of the Lion eagerly watched the Portugal ship, speculating on the value of her cargo, and whether she was likely to offer resistance. Such an idea was generally treated with scorn. What was the surprise, therefore, of all on board to see the chase suddenly haul up her courses and heave her maintopsail aback to await the coming of her pursuer!

“Can it be that any on board are treacherous, and wish thus to gain our favour?” said Waymouth.

“More likely that they are cowards all, and think discretion the best part of valour,” observed Carlingford: “we shall soon learn, though.”

“Ay, that shall we,” answered Waymouth. “But, see, what flags are those? They look not as if the Portugal was in a humble mood.”

As he was speaking, several flags were hoisted to the mast-heads of the stranger, conspicuous among all being that of Portugal flying above the flag of England. The sight caused a general shout of indignation among the English crew, and doubled their desire to get alongside the foe. As they got still nearer, the Portugal once more let fall his sails and stood boldly towards them, letting fly a shot in defiance.

“Now this is what does the heart good,” exclaimed Waymouth in high glee. “Yonder is a brave fellow and a worthy foe. I had ten times rather meet such a one than the coward who runs away and then yields when he is caught without striking a blow. We shall take yonder gentleman—of that there is no doubt; and it will be a satisfaction to treat him as a brave man should be treated—with honour and distinction.”

“I would that we could avoid fighting,” said Master Walker. “Here are we both from Europe—two ships, the remnant, probably, of the proud fleets which left our native shores—and we must needs set to work to knock each other to pieces. What, prithee, is to be gained by it?”

“Honour, good Master Walker! honour, which we gentlemen of the sword sigh for and live for, not to speak of the golden doubloons and other articles of value with which these Portugals think fit to freight their ships,” answered Waymouth with a laugh which showed the cool if not light spirit with which he could enter into the deadly fight.

Nearer and nearer drew the two ships. The Portugal was the first to fire, and all his guns were aimed high, as if he was anxious to cripple his opponent. The reason was obvious. His decks were crowded with men, and he hoped by running on board the English ship to take her easily with his overwhelming numbers. Waymouth saw that his proper plan was to give the Portugals a wide berth and keep firing away till he had thinned those numbers, at the same time that it was very much against his usual system and inclination, as it was against that of his followers.

Now the guns of the Lion began to play vigorously, some of them being, according to the captain’s orders, fired high, and others low. Although now and then her spars and ropes were hit, she was inflicting equal injury on the rigging of her opponent, while such of her guns as were trained low were making fearful havoc among the people on the deck of the Portugal. She, in return, was employing every manoeuvre to close with the Lion, till it appeared as if the English were actually afraid of her.

“This must not last longer,” exclaimed Waymouth. “British steel has seldom failed, however great the odds. We’ll give the Portugals their way.”

The remark was received with a loud shout by his men, on which he ordered the Lion to be steered to close with her antagonist. The two ships met with a crash; and before the Portugals, who had been mustering on purpose, could reach the side of the Lion, her gallant crew, led by Waymouth, had boarded the enemy. And now, in truth, was shown what English steel could do; and well as many of the Portugals fought, the decks were soon cleared of all but a gallant few, who, surrounding the Portugal captain, stood at bay. That Portugal captain was a young man of a noble bearing; though wounded, he seemed resolved to resist to the last.

“Yield thee—yield thee, brave senhor!” cried Waymouth. “Life and liberty shall be yours. I would fain not kill thee.”

“To you, brave Captain Waymouth, I will yield me, if you will order your men to refrain from striking,” was the answer. “Truly, they strike so hard and fast, that otherwise not one of my comrades will remain alive.”

“You are a brave gentleman. It shall be as you desire. We have met before, I suspect,” shouted the English captain, ordering his men to let drop the points of their weapons.

The deck, so lately the scene of a fierce conflict, was in an instant quiet, though the planks, slippery with gore, and the human forms strewed thickly from one end to the other, showed the desperate nature of the drama which had there been enacted. The Portugal captain delivered his sword to Waymouth, who courteously returned it, recognising him as the bravest of those captains who had been captured in the great battle fought by the whole fleet—Don Antonio de Mello by name. The prize was richly freighted, and as the Lion would require some repairs after the battle, it was resolved to carry her back to Bantam.

The return of the English so soon with a captured enemy raised them very much in the estimation of the people of Bantam, and proportionately lowered the Portugals. The repairs of both ships were soon completed, and the more valuable part of the cargo of the prize transferred to the Lion. Waymouth’s generous feelings prompted him to restore the captured ship to Don Antonio, taking his word that neither he nor his officers or men would again serve against the English. He made the proposal, however, first to his own officers, who all, with the exception of Peter Hagger, readily agreed to forego their share of the prize that the prisoners might have an opportunity of returning to their own country. The boatswain, on the contrary, vowed, that, as they had won the booty by hard fighting, they would keep it, and that he and many other good men that he knew of would not give up a nail of what was their own.

“Well said, Master Hagger; let me know who are these good men of whom you speak, and your share and theirs of what is restored to the Portugals shall be calculated and given to you,” said Captain Waymouth, looking sternly at the boatswain. “I wish to deprive no man of what he considers his own; but it strikes me that when a fair estimate is made of the real value of your share it will not be worth disputing about.”

Notwithstanding these remarks of the captain, Hagger insisted on having his share, but he was only able to send in the names of rather more than a dozen men who agreed with him. The supercargo, or accountant, of the Lion, was therefore summoned, and directed to make out an estimate of the value of the shares in question.

“Now deduct therefrom,” said Waymouth, “wages of officers and crew of the Portugal to conduct her home; risk of capture or loss; increased risk of loss or capture of the Lion in consequence of her being short-handed.”

“In that case, sir, the balance is against Master Hagger and the rest,” remarked the accountant.

“I thought as much,” observed Waymouth, laughing.

The boatswain’s anger and disappointment were very great when he found how the tables had been turned, and that, instead of gaining any thing, he had merely shown who were the men among the crew plotting with him.

The Portugals’ satisfaction was very great when they found that they were not to be detained at Bantam, where, from the unhealthiness of the climate during the hot months, they could expect only to find graves. Don Antonio warmly expressed his gratitude.

“I had some information, noble captain, which I purposed giving before parting, at all events, but which I have now a double gratification in affording,” he said, addressing Waymouth. “During that dreadful fight, when your fleet destroyed so many of ours, some few Englishmen were carried off prisoners by those which escaped. Among them was an officer who belonged to the Lion. I saw him but once, and his name I did not hear, though I doubt not that he is the friend whose fate you so much desired to learn. He is now a prisoner in the Castle of San Pedro, to the south of Goa. I had resolved to take the earliest opportunity of sending you this information according to my promise, little supposing that I should be able to deliver it under, to me, such unfortunate circumstances.”

This news raised Waymouth’s spirits higher than they had been for some time. It made him feel almost sure that Raymond had survived the battle, because, as all the other officers of the Lion had been accounted for, it could be only him of whom Don Antonio spoke. On hearing this, it at once flashed across Waymouth’s thoughts that he had done unwisely in giving the prisoners their liberty with so few conditions.

“I ought to have bargained that any English who might be in the hands of their countrymen should promptly be liberated without ransom; but yet—no; I have done a liberal deed, and I will not regret it. If these Portugals have any feeling of honour, they will let my friend go free when I demand him.”

From a subsequent conversation with Don Antonio, Waymouth was compelled to abandon the last expressed hope. It appeared that the governor of the castle of San Pedro was a certain Don Lobo, who was noted for his ferocity and avarice, so that he was well called Lobo, which means in the Portugal tongue a wolf.

Don Antonio stated that he was never known to do a noble or generous act, and that he was not likely to deliver up his prisoner unless a heavy ransom was paid, and that so bitter was his animosity against the English that it was possible he would not even set him at liberty.

“Then the Lion shall force the wolf to succumb,” exclaimed Waymouth. “I will not ask you, Don Antonio, to fight against your countrymen, but I must beg you to give me such information as may assist me in liberating my friend, and I must then exact a promise from you that you will not return to San Pedro, or by any means allow notice of our approach to be carried there.”

Don Antonio, without hesitation, gave the promise required, the more readily, perhaps, that the Lion would have the start of him for some days, and, being short of provisions and water, he could not attempt to make so long a passage as that from Bantam to Goa without being amply supplied with both. Yet further to prevent the chance of Don Lobo being informed of the approach of the Lion, Waymouth afterwards extracted an additional promise from Don Antonio that he would not attempt to sail for a week after her.

“Ned, dear coz, we shall once more shake hands, and drink a bowl together to the health of thy lady love,” he exclaimed, apostrophising his friend while walking his quarter-deck, as the Lion, under all sail, clove her way towards the west through the limpid ocean.

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