THE OLD BUCCANEER.
THEsun shone brightly that morning in a clear blue sky, shedding a glistening light upon the bare wet branches of the trees, and upon the little pools of water that lay in the hollows of the land and between the deep long furrows of the ploughed fields. The sleety snow of the previous night had not rested, but had left the ground soft and slushy, and as Timothy Trollope strode down one of the narrow lanes in the direction of the home-farm his great boots sank deep into the mud at every stride.
"'Tis true enough. God wot 'tis true I am no gentleman," he said to himself as he went along, regardless of the mire. "Nevertheless, I like not the lad's manner of telling me so. 'Twas ill-bred, at the least; and doubly hurtful in that 'twas true. Haply he knew by my raiment, or by my speech, or my ungainly movements, that I am lowly born. 'Tis passing strange how these gentlefolks do know their own class. They will recognize a man of good breeding from across the street, and tell him from a churl though he have not so much as opened his lips. And yet 'tis not the fashion of his coat that doth proclaim him a gentleman, else would Philip Oglander himself be writ down the veriest varlet, for a more ill-favoured fashion than his I have not seen upon a gentleman these many days.Nay, I like him not, despite Master Gilbert. And his words do rankle in me like the sting of a wasp. 'I thank you; but so please you, I had rather take my lessons from a gentleman.' A gentleman, forsooth! Marry, I have taught a better gentleman than him to use the rapier. Howbeit, there is a medicine for every malady, and it may be that yon simpering fool shall some day take from me a lesson that he wots not of."
At the end of the lane Timothy came upon some men who were at work thatching the roof of one of the farm cottages. The man at the foot of the ladder was Jake Thew, the same who had ridden in pursuit of the robbers.
"What ho there, Jake!" cried Timothy, as he clambered up to the gate. "Didst catch a sight of those rascally Egyptians yesternight?"
"More than a sight, Master Trollope; I catched themselves," came the ready answer. "That is to say, Thomas Lee and I did catch 'em. Thomas rid round by the highroad with William his son. They doubled at the corner of Beddington Lane with intent to meet us in the dingle. We met nigh upon half a mile from the spot where Master Gilbert was wounded, sir. The three of us did scour the country-side, now this way, now that, until well upon midnight; and at last we came upon the vagabonds lying hidden in a place that we'd passed a good half-dozen times—Beddington Dingle to wit. Thomas Lee let fire his pistol upon them, though purposely aiming above their heads, lesthe should kill one of them and so be brought up for murder; and the rascals surrendered. So we carried them off and lodged them in Plymouth gaol, sir, where they both now are."
"Both?" echoed Timothy. "And were there not three of them in all?"
Jake left the foot of the ladder, his companions being now on the cottage roof, and waded through the mud to where Timothy was.
"Nay, sir, there were but two; we sought for three, but the third had made good his escape. And well for him that he did so, for 'twas he—so Robert Harvey avers—who ran his rapier into Master Gilbert's arm."
"Plague on the man!" cried Timothy, in vexation. "But we shall catch him yet, I promise you. Prithee, did the constable search the men ere you came away?"
"There was small need to search 'em, my master. The booty they took was scarce so portable as to be stowed away beneath their jerkins. We found it all in two great meal-sacks that they carried off from the barn. And a pretty catalogue it was withal—item, three young capons;item, one fat hen;item, a sucking pig, divers farm implements, and a lordly goose that Dame Trevenen the hen-wife was feeding up for Christmas."
"Ay, a goodly haul, o' my conscience," agreed Timothy. "But found ye nought of what the rogues stole from the old man?"
"Nay," answered Jake with a shake of his head."Although 'tis true that young Robin Redfern passing through the dingle early this morning, did come upon an old and worthless wallet, which might indeed have belonged to the man you speak of. 'Twas empty, though—empty as a hatched egg,—and Robin left it where it lay among last year's brambles."
"Ah! he had better have brought it with him," said Timothy, "for it will serve as evidence to convict the thieves alike of the stealing of the poultry and the wounding of Master Gilbert. And now," he added, "what canst tell me touching this same old man? Didst see him yesternight after I left him on the road?"
Jake Thew nodded and smiled.
"That we did, my master," said he. "We encountered him nigh unto Modbury Bridge. He was tramping along full contented and jovial, singing lustily enough to wake the very birds in the trees. 'Twas the ballad ofThe Beggar's Daughter of Bednall Greenthat he sang. And in truth he might well have been that same beggar himself, so ill-favoured was he, and so poorly clad withal."
"Ay," rejoined Trollope, "but, if I mind aright, your beggar man of Bednall Green did turn out in the end to be a man of substance, and more wealthy than any one of his daughter's wooers. Whereas this Jacob Hartop hath not a groat in the world to call his own, saving what he may claim, by virtue of his calling, from the seamen's chest at Chatham, which Sir Francis Drake hath made for the relief of aged mariners."
"He will not want for friendly help in these parts, howsoever," remarked Thew, "for it seemeth he was born in Modbury village, and there be many there still living who have some remembrance of him as a young man ere he went upon the sea, and who will gladly give him both food and shelter. There is the widow Frampton for one, who took him into her cottage yesternight and gave him a supper and a bed, by reason that he sailed in the same ship with her goodman to the Spanish Main. You will find him there even now, sir, if so be you would see him."
Timothy waited only to make certain further inquiries concerning the identity of the two men who had been taken to the gaol, and then set off on his way down to the village.
He went first to the widow Frampton's cottage, a clean little thatched dwelling, with the dry and faded stalks of honeysuckle about the trellised porch and a tiny garden in front. He asked for Jacob Hartop, and was told that the old man had wandered out to enjoy the fresh morning air. Timothy inquired which way he had gone, and was told that he would perhaps find him down beside the sign of the Champernoun Arms, as he had said before going out that he had a mind to have a gossip with some of the villagers over a pot of home-brewed ale.
Timothy made his way along the street past many whitewashed cottages, all curiously striped with cross beams of black oak, and looking very sweet and cosywith their thatched roofs and their smoking chimneys. A turn in the road brought him within a few yards of the village well. About a dozen curly-headed boys and girls stood round it, and in their midst, sitting on the stone parapet that encircled the fountain, was Jacob Hartop. He was easily known by the fact that he still wore Gilbert Oglander's cloak, with its badge of the Oglanders on the shoulder. The old man's back was towards Timothy, and the lad went quietly up behind him until he came within sound of his voice. Jacob was holding forth to his juvenile audience on the precious virtues of pure water, a cup of which liquid he held in his right hand, resting on his knee.
"Ay," he was saying as Timothy drew near, "I told ye but a little while ago of all the gold and precious stones that I possessed—enough and more in value, as I say, to buy up all Plymouth and Modbury. Well, I would, at times, willingly have given the whole of that treasure for one such little cup of water as this. Ah! 'tis a terrible thing to be dying of thirst, my boys, as many of our brave men were a-dying at that time aboard theGolden Galleon. 'Tis to be compared only with the tortures of the Inquisition. But there, bairns, methinks I have talked enough about myself and my ship. What would ye next—a song—a fairy tale?"
Timothy was about to break into the circle, but the voice of a yellow-haired little maid of some ten or eleven years old checked him.
"You did say you would tell us of Captain Drake," she said.
"Yes," chimed in a boy at her elbow, "thou didst say we should hear how it was that Sir Francis was crippled. I have oft wondered, when I have seen him going up to my lord's great house yonder, how it was that he came to walk lame."
Hartop laid his cup of water aside on the parapet of the well, and took the yellow-haired maid in his arms and perched her upon his knee. The other children gathered closer round him.
"You must know, then," he began, looking from one to the other of the rosy faces, "that our great enemies the Spaniards have long been famous for the vast wealth that they have gathered out yonder in the islands that we name the West Indies. Every year King Philip doth send out a fleet of his galleons to bring home to Spain their cargoes of silver and gold. 'Tis that same vast wealth that hath made him able to fit out his armadas and pay his armies of soldiers to fight against your fathers. Now Queen Elizabeth (God bless her!) hath ever been anxious to stop those treasures from crossing over to Spain, and she hath allowed Captain Drake and others of her great seamen, as well as such more humble buccaneers as myself, to rove the Spanish Main and capture such treasure-ships as came in their way, also to land their forces on the Spanish islands and strip King Philip's treasure-houses of the gold and silver therein stored."
At this point Timothy Trollope, being somewhat interested in the narrative, sat down on the edge of the well with his back against one of the pillars of the winch.
"One such treasure-house was at a place which the Spaniards called Nombre de Dios," continued Hartop, "a town of the same size as Plymouth. The great building in which all the gold and silver was stored was named the Treasure House of the World, and I promise you it well merited the name. If all the cottages in Modbury village were made of solid silver and the church there of solid gold, there would yet be less than was contained in the place I speak of. All the ships now lying in Plymouth harbour would not have been able to carry it away, though they had gone all together and made two voyages over their work.
"Now Captain Drake made up his mind to have that treasure and carry it off, even though he should cast it all into the deep sea before he came home again to England; for he well knew that if it should ever reach Spain King Philip would thus be made so rich that he could build more ships of war than any other monarch in all the world. So to Nombre de Dios did Drake take his ships. Their crews were made up of the best young men of Devon."
"And were you also with Drake at that time, Master Hartop?" asked one of the elder boys, whose name was Robin Redfern.
"I had that honour; yes," said Hartop. "And well I mind the night that we landed. 'Twas a stormy night. The clouds were as black as my cloak, and the rain was such as you never saw in dear old England. By misfortune the Spaniards got wind of our coming, and we had but reached the main street of the town when they sounded the alarm. They blew their trumpets, they rang their great bells, their soldiers appeared in vast numbers at every corner, firing their muskets and their arrows into our midst. Many of our best men fell. But Captain Drake still urged us on, and we gladly followed his lead, for we knew that, despite the greater number of our enemies, we were more than equal to them in bravery, and that the gold was still within our reach—that, indeed, Master Oxenham and Captain Drake's brother John had already gone round with their men to break open the treasure-house doors. While these our comrades were thus occupied, Captain Drake meant to return to the middle of the town and engage our enemies in a wide, open market-place. Be called to us to follow him thither. He stepped briskly forward to lead the way, and then with a cheery cry on his lips he suddenly rolled over in the wet sand, with his face as white as this little lady's frock.
"'Twas daylight by that time, and I had myself seen that with every step he had taken, for the distance of it may be half a mile, he had left the imprint of his foot in blood. Ever since our first encounter with the Spaniards he had been secretly strugglingagainst a desperate wound in his leg, saying never a word about it, but hiding it lest the knowledge of it might dishearten us. He had gone bravely on until he could no longer stand. There, lying well-nigh dead upon the sand, he beseeched us to proceed with our work. We refused, and he grew angry. Again and again he entreated us, but we told him—which was no more than the truth—that his life was dearer to us than all the wealth of the Indies. We carried him down to our boats and took him aboard his ship, leaving the Spaniards and their wealth behind. And that was the end of our attempt upon the Treasure House of the World.
"'Twas long ere Captain Drake was well enough to leave his bed, but ever since that time he hath walked with a limp in his gait. May he walk through this life for many and many a year yet to come, say I!"
"Amen to that!" chimed in Timothy Trollope, rising and walking round to the other side of the well and greeting Jacob Hartop.
The old man looked very different now from the weary and storm-tossed wanderer of the night before. His weather-beaten face had been newly washed, and was of a clear ruddy brown, albeit wrinkled with many lines that were as the river courses upon a map. His silvery hair and beard had been trimmed and combed, and he wore a small white ruff that covered from view his thin and scraggy neck. Some kindly villagers had given him a shepherd's jacket of russetfrieze with red sleeves, a pair of thick start-up boots, and a pair of rough cloth stockings. He lifted the yellow-haired maid from his knee and stood up, taking Timothy's hand.
"How fares your young master?" he inquired; and when Timothy had told him, he bade farewell to the children and walked by the tall young fellow's side towards the bridge that crossed the little river. There he paused as if about to turn back, but Timothy drew him on, telling him that Lord Champernoun had ordered that if he could be found he was to be brought up to the manor-house.
"My lord was ill pleased that you came not yesternight," said Tim. "And it seemeth that Sir Walter Raleigh, hearing that you had been in the Indies, hath also expressed a wish to have speech with you."
"Sir Walter Raleigh?" repeated Hartop in a tone of surprise. "Ah! then 'tis my bounden duty to go with you. I knew not that he was within a hundred miles of this place. And I have news for him. But I gave you my reasons for avoiding Modbury Manor at this present time. I wanted not to meet again with Master Jasper Oglander, of whom, God wot, I have already seen more than pleaseth me. I wot well that he did intend to go thither yesternight. Didst find him there when ye went in, prithee?"
Timothy nodded. "We found him and his son at the table when we carried Master Gilbert into the dining-hall," he said.
"And the sigñora his wife? Was not she also present?" asked the old man, glancing up at Timothy as it were with the corner of his eye.
"No," answered Trollope; "I heard naught of her."
"Ah!" returned Hartop in a tone which Timothy did not exactly understand.
And then, after a few moments' silence, Jacob added, as if speaking to himself: "'Tis as I judged, then—and yet—?"
Timothy stroked his upper lip meditatively, and then, turning abruptly upon the old mariner: "Now, prithee, what doubts and questions art thou turning over in thy mind?" he inquired.
Jacob Hartop set his eyes straight before him up the long lane and strode on in resolute silence. But Timothy was pertinacious; he nudged his elbow against Jacob's arm.
"I'll tell thee what thou'rt thinking, Master Hartop," said he smiling. "Thou'rt thinking that 'tis passing strange that Jasper Oglander and his son were so close at hand at the time that thou wert robbed—nay, more, I'll warrant me thou'rt even questioning whether they were not themselves the very men who robbed thee."
Jacob Hartop suddenly came to a stand-still and stared at Timothy in wonderment.
"By St George," he exclaimed, "thou'rt a very 'cute and promising lad, Timothy! Beshrew me if thou'st not hit upon my veritable thoughts! 'Twas that in truth that I was questioning. But there bemany points, nevertheless, that seem to disprove the suspicion; as, firstly, if Jasper and his son sought to rob me, why did they not rob me aboard the ship, where the matter was as easy as eating and drinking? Secondly, if 'twas they who robbed me, how came it that there was a third man in the work with them? And who might that third man have been? But on the other hand, mark you, if 'twas not they who did it, who else were my assailants? Who other than they could have known that I had aught about me that was worth the robbing?"
"Ah! then you were not so poor as you did look?" cried Timothy. "You did indeed carry something of value in your wallet?"
"'Twas something which would most certainly have been accounted of value—of the most exceeding value—by Queen Elizabeth, or Francis Drake, or Walter Raleigh, or even perchance by my Lord Champernoun, but by few else," answered Jacob Hartop. "Your common footpad rascal who seeketh for that which will buy him bread would peradventure have cast it into the fire, not guessing at its import."
"And yet you hinted but a moment ago that Jasper Oglander did know you had that about you which was worth the robbing," said Timothy.
"Ay, but Jasper Oglander is different," returned Hartop gravely. "He is without honour, and without conscience, a vile dissembler, and—" He broke off, recollecting that Timothy was a servant inModbury Manor, and that it was therefore unwise to speak thus of Lord Champernoun's son. "But why should I catalogue his faults?" he continued. "If you would learn more of him, you have but to question Sir Francis Drake, who will haply tell you more than I dare tell. 'Twas indiscreet in me to mention Jasper in this connection; but your own remark took me unawares. Nevertheless I am by no means certain that it was not indeed Jasper Oglander who attacked and robbed me yesternight—to say nothing of the wounding of your young master who rescued me—and I am minded to find out the truth, though it cost me until the end of the year in the search for it."
"You might better have said to the end of this lane," smiled Timothy, "for I can at once set your mind at ease. Like yourself, Master Hartop, I had vaguely suspected that Jasper Oglander had had a hand in this affair; but he hath given my suspicions a very positive denial, for he hath declared that both he and Master Philip did journey round by the highroad, and were nowhere near to Beddington Dingle. Also, the actual thieves have been discovered."
Hartop glanced at Timothy with a curious light in his eyes.
"And yet," said he, "I traced both Jasper and Philip's footprints in the snowy ground of Beddington Lane. What should that bode, I pray you?"
"Tut!" retorted Timothy. "How know you their footprints from those of any other honest folk?"
The old mariner answered with quiet deliberation, and with a firmness that seemed to show that he had little doubt upon the matter:
"By the token that Jasper Oglander's feet do turn slightly inward as he walks, and by the fact that his boots be pointed at the toes, in the Spanish fashion. By the token, too, that in the snow, hard against the left bootmark of him who walked by his side, there was here and there a little line, made by the point of a rapier scabbard—made, as I take it, by the point of Philip Oglander's rapier, which, if you will have occasion to observe, is a weapon of unusual length."
"Marry!" cried Trollope. "Thou art surely a very bloodhound in thy skill at tracking!"
"'Tis an art that hath oft served me in good stead," returned Hartop. "I learned it from John Hawkins. And, touching this matter of the wounding of Master Gilbert, didst chance to regard the fashion of his adversary's sword-play?"
Timothy shook his head. "I knew naught of the encounter till 'twas over," he answered. "Yet wait; Master Gilbert did indeed tell me this morning that the man had enwrapped his guard arm with the skirt of his cloak."
"Ay, Philip Oglander's own method. I had guessed so much," said Hartop with a confident nod of his head.
"What?" exclaimed Timothy. "You will say that it was Philip Oglander? 'Tis not possible, man. Why,the lad's own father informed us only this morning that Philip was but a dullard—a very dunce—at the use of the rapier. The lad admitted as much also, and even spoke of taking lessons from Master Gilbert. It is not possible, I say."
"Ah! I do perceive that thou art yet but a simple countryman, Master Trollope," rejoined Jacob Hartop as he paused at the edge of a great slough of mud that was in front of him and turned to his companion. "A simple country lad that doth see no guile, knowing not of man's manifold wickednesses. But thou'lt learn wisdom with growing years. . . . And so he declared that his son was but a dullard at sword-play, eh? Hark'ee, my lad; attend to an old man's counsel; and when Jasper Oglander—ay, or his son—doth say that a thing is white, believe thou that 'tis in truth black. When he doth declare that he is a devout and zealous Protestant, believe thou that he is in truth an ardent and bigoted Papist. When he doth declare—as I doubt not he soon will—that he is heart and soul for Queen Elizabeth, believe thou that he is all in all for King Philip and Spain. When—"
"Enough!" exclaimed Timothy drawing back a step in anger. "I will hear no more. You are the man's enemy and do but speak against him falsely. He hath given you his help, and yet you turn against him and decry him as though he were a very villain. You say that it was he who robbed you. I tell you 'tis false—false as your own calumnies. Ay, and I will prove itsfalseness, for the men who robbed you have been caught. They were caught at a late hour yesternight and are now lying in Plymouth gaol."
The old man started at Timothy, astonished and perplexed. Then he turned and carefully picked his way across the slough of mud, saying never a word. At length, when the lad again came to his side, he said very calmly:
"Are you certain sure of this that you tell me, Master Trollope? Are you certain that these men have been caught?"
"Certain," Timothy answered curtly. And they continued their journey in silence.
At this same time Baron Champernoun was in his great gloomy library with Sir Walter Raleigh and Raleigh's cousin, Sir Richard Grenville. His lordship was seated before the fire in a large arm-chair, with his head supported upon pillows and his feet propped up in front of him on a high hassock. Raleigh had been writing at the table, but had now swung round his chair and sat with his two hands clasping one of his knees, looking down at the crimson rosette that adorned his dainty shoe. Grenville stood with his back to the cheek of the fireplace. He was a tall, broad-shouldered seaman of about fifty years of age, with dark curly hair and a full, pointed beard that was sprinkled with gray. There was an easy, careless look about him, and his voice when he spoke seemed to have in it something of the deep low murmur of the sea.
"Ay, cousin Walter," he was saying, "thou hast made a stroke of ill-luck for once with thisPearl. She hath never brought thee much profit to speak of, and this last adventure of hers doth bring her misfortunes to a climax. 'Tis the first time I have known a ship come home from the Indies lacking a cargo that would amply repay her owners for their outlay. And her crew, from what Master Jasper hath told us, are of as little value as herself, what with graybeards for sailing-masters and negroes for seamen. I never saw the negro yet who could handle a rope or trim a sail. 'Tis surprising to me that with such a ship's company the craft hath ever reached port. What wilt do with the old hulk now, Walter,—break it up for firewood, or sell it to thine enemy?"
"Sell the ship, Raleigh,—sell her to Jasper Oglander," interposed Lord Champernoun with a chuckling laugh. "I'll go to the expense of fitting her out anew for him. 'Twill be a cheap enough way of getting rid of him for another year or two."
"I will sell her most willingly, baron, an you are serious," remarked Raleigh. "But I promise you it would be cheaper far to build a new vessel altogether. ThePearlis one of your old-fashioned craft. We have made an hundred improvements in our ships since she was launched—thanks to John Hawkins and other skilled and worthy navigators. We have devised the striking of the topmast, together with the chain-pump. We have invented studding sails,top-gallant sails, sprit sails, topsails. We now weigh our anchors by the capstan. Our hulls are now built on longer keels than formerly, with lowered superstructure and finer lines, which make them swifter and capable of carrying more sail. Compare such a heavy cumbrous ship as thePearlwith our vessels of the newer sort, such as theRevenge. The improvement is too great to admit of controversy."
"Thou'rt right, cousin Walter," said Grenville, advancing a step and seating himself on an oak settle that stood beyond the too-great warmth of the fire. "Wiseacres, who knew less than we, declared that our new ships would be too crank to carry sail, and only fit for smooth water, and they foretold that they would surely founder in the heavy seas of the Atlantic. But the result hath disproved their prophecies."
"The high charging of ships was but a huge mistake," pursued Raleigh. "Those towering castles at stern and prow did but increase the ship's leeway, made her sink too deep in the water, and tended to overset her."
"I am not learned in these matters," remarked Lord Champernoun with some impatience. "But touching that ship theRevenge, which you mentioned just now, Raleigh, did I not hear some weeks since that she had met with some grave disaster?"
Sir Walter Raleigh picked up his quill from the table and began idly to nibble at the feather end, leaving his cousin to answer the question.
"'Twas a small matter, as things have turned out," said Grenville; "and although it might indeed have been serious, yet there was not a single life lost. She was riding at her moorings in the river Medway, off the town of Rochester, with naught but her bare masts overhead, and in a great storm of wind and weather she suddenly turned topsy-turvy, her keel uppermost. Howsoever, they have righted her now, and she is being refitted for her next voyage, whithersoever that may be."
"Her destination hath not yet been decided upon," remarked Raleigh. "But there is talk of her being despatched to join others of Her Majesty's ships that are now lying in wait off the Western Islands to intercept and capture the Spanish plate fleet, which should be returning from Havana at about this time. But I much doubt that 'tis already too late for her to enter upon that journey, and it may be that she will be commissioned for the expedition to Panama."
Sir Richard Grenville slowly rose to his feet, and touching Raleigh on the shoulder, "Look you, cousin Walter," he said, "'tis not often that I do ask you a favour, but an you love me I would beseech you to use your influence with Her Majesty on my account, and advise her with all your eloquence to graciously appoint me to the command of theRevenge."
"Thou shalt have it, Dick; on my honour thou shalt have it," returned Raleigh, turning about and clapping the rough seaman on the broad back.
"Ay," interposed Lord Champernoun, "and thou shalt take my young grandson Gilbert with thee, Grenville. I had rather he learned seamanship under thee than under any other man in all Her Majesty's service."
At this moment there was a knock at the library door, and Timothy Trollope entered, followed by Jacob Hartop.
CONCERNING A STOLEN LETTER.
TIMOTHYhad given the old man a pair of cloth shoes in place of the mud-covered boots that he had worn on his walk from the village, and had himself changed his rough outdoor clothes for a suit of dark-blue frieze.
"What have we here?" questioned the baron, turning in his chair and looking towards the door.
"'Tis Master Jacob Hartop, my lord," answered Timothy, "the same who was robbed yesternight."
"That matter is settled, for the men are arrested," said his lordship with a wave of his thin white hand that was meant for a dismissal. "I have now no need of the man's evidence. You had best take him down to the town and let Justice Oldfield examine him." His eyes rested upon Hartop for a moment. "Yet stay," he added. And then, addressing Hartop, he said: "Art thou a man of Devon, prithee?"
"I am, your lordship," answered Jacob. "So please you, I am Modbury born, and did serve your lordship's family in my youth—until, my lord, your father got me a ship and I went to sea."
"How long time have you been absent from England?" Lord Champernoun asked, gazing dreamily into the fire.
"'Tis nigh upon three-and-twenty years since last I trod upon these shores," the old mariner answered.
"What is your history during all those years?" pursued the nobleman.
"A troublous one, my lord. So please you, I was one of Captain John Hawkins' men that went out with him from Plymouth in the year fifteen hundred and sixty-seven. I was his master's mate aboard theMinion, and was with him in his fight at San Juan de Ulloa. Captain Hawkins left me, with certain others, in Mexico, where I remained for two years, until I fell into the hands of the Spaniards, who carried me off to Spain. I was a prisoner in the Contratation House of Cadiz for twelve months, and a slave in one of the galleys of Don Andrea Doria for two years more, being present as a slave on that admiral's flag-ship at the battle of Lepanto." He broke off, glancing nervously from one to the other of the company. At the mention of the battle of Lepanto Sir Richard Grenville raised his eyebrows. No one spoke, however, and presently the old buccaneer continued:
"Transferred to one of King Philip's great galleons, I was taken once more to the Spanish Indies; but by God's providence the galleon was captured on the high seas by Captain Ned Horseley, the English buccaneer, and I was by him handed over to Captain Francis Drake. Under Drake, so please you, I served at the attack on Nombre de Dios, and at the taking of Porto Bello in the year seventy-two. Again I fell into the hands of our enemies, and was for eight long years in the Everlasting Prison Remediless in Hispaniola; since when I have been in the Indies—in Darien, in Brazil, in Virginia. I had the good fortune to come into possession of a great galleon, with which I roved the seas, making many conquests and gaining great wealth. But again I had the ill fortune to lose her. Thereafter I found my way out to the Western Indies, and have now come back from Havana in the good shipPearl."
His listeners nodded and smiled as he ended his narrative.
"What say you to that, Sir Walter?" asked Lord Champernoun, turning to Raleigh.
"A goodly record, o' my conscience," returned Sir Walter. And glancing towards Hartop he added: "And so thou hast been robbed—eh, my man? Prithee, what might have been the value of your stolen property?"
Hartop hesitated and looked a little confused. At last he said, bowing to Raleigh:
"So please your honour, is it to Sir Walter Raleigh that I do now speak?"
Sir Walter Raleigh nodded. "Yes, I was asking thee the value of thy stolen goods."
"Nay, I know not precisely," answered Hartop. "It might be about the value of five or six hundred pounds in the form of pearls and emeralds and gew-gaws of such sort. But of these I care naught, for there was that in my wallet which I had rather have given my life than lose—a letter addressed to your worshipful self, that I was bidden to give with all speed into your honour's hands. I had thought it was safe in the pocket of my hose until late yesternight, but then I minded that ere I left the ship I put it into my wallet. And 'tis gone—God forgive me, 'tis gone!"
"From Havana, say you?" cried Sir Walter Raleigh doubtingly. "Prithee, who writ it?"
"Captain William Marsden, please your worship."
"Marsden?" echoed Raleigh. "But he is dead. He died ere thePearlset sail on her homeward voyage. Jasper Oglander told me so. 'Twas of a malarial fever that he died."
Hartop shook his head and rejoined very calmly: "No; so please your worship 'twas not fever. Master Oglander must surely have been misinformed, or else—" He broke off, glancing apprehensively at Lord Champernoun. "Captain Marsden was murdered, your worship, and he writ the letter, knowing beforehand that his life was menaced."
"Some treachery at work, eh?" muttered Sir Walter. "Well, and the letter. Dost know naught of its purport?"
"Naught saving the words that the captain spake as he gave it unto me," answered Hartop. "They were these: 'Guard the letter with thy life, Hartop, and let no Spaniard or friend of Spain know aught of its existence. Deliver it into the hands of Sir Walter Raleigh wheresoever he may be found, and, failing him, any one of Her Majesty's privy councillors. If thou shouldst fall into the hands of our enemies, destroy the letter. If thou shouldst lose it, which Heaven forfend, go still to Raleigh and tell him this: tell him that the King of Spain's people in the Indies have gathered together here in the treasure-houses of Havana the vastest store of silver and gold that hath ever been known upon earth, and that it is the intention of the King to have all this treasure transported into Spain, to the end that he may—in revenge for the great loss he hath lately suffered at the hands of England—build a yet greater armada than that of two years ago, wherewith to invade and conquer our Queen's dominions. Bid Sir Walter bear this in mind: that the taking of that treasure into Spain doth mean nothing short of the downfall of England and all her glory upon the seas.'"
"Yes, yes," interrupted Sir Walter, striding to and fro athwart the end of the table. "But all this I did know passing well before—although, indeed I wasscarce aware that the treasure was so great. Even now at this present time Hawkins and Frobisher are lying in wait with their ships at the Azores, with intent to intercept the Spanish galleons."
"Your pardon, sir, but so please you I am not done," returned Jacob Hartop. "The more important part is to come. King Philip of Spain, it seemeth from what Captain Marsden told me, is fully aware that the English ships are even now lying in wait for his galleons; and the captain bade me tell your honour that if matters remain as they now are, those ships will continue so to lie inactive until their hulls be all eaten with the worm and their crews all dead of famine and disease."
"And how so?" demanded Raleigh in a loud voice. "Are they not as well equipped as any fleet that ever sailed out of England, quotha?"
Hartop shrank back, overawed by the great courtier's imperative manner.
"I am striving to repeat Captain Marsden's message," he said meekly; and then he went on more boldly: "Inclosed with the letter I have so unfortunately lost there was, I believe (although I of course saw it not), a copy of King Philip's own private instructions to the admiral of the plate fleet, sent out secretly to Havana. They arrived there but three days before Captain Marsden received his intelligence. Those instructions were to the effect that the galleons were to remain in Havana throughout the winter, and to setsail on the first day of the month of March next, by which time the English ships, their hulls rotten and their crews reduced by pestilence, would be too weak to offer any obstacle."
"Ah, now do I begin to perceive some daylight!" exclaimed Sir Walter Raleigh—"as much, it may be, as if I had e'en read the letter thou hast guarded so ill." He turned to Lord Champernoun. "That letter must be found," he said. "It will go ill with us if it fall into the hands of any friend of Spain. I beg thee to see to it in such wise as may seem most expedient. In the meantime—although I am sorry to abridge my so pleasant visit—I must hie me back to London. Cousin Dick," he added, nodding to Captain Grenville, "there is work for thee in this matter, I do promise thee."
Timothy Trollope had not heard this conversation. Having ushered Jacob Hartop into Lord Champernoun's presence, he had withdrawn from the library and made his way up the stairs to his young master's bedroom. The sound of merry laughter greeted him from within as he reached the door. He knocked and entered, and found Gilbert sitting up in bed with a smile on his face, and with his bandaged arm resting in a sling of brilliant red silk. The Lady Betty sat at his bedside, at work with her needle upon a piece of tapestry; Drusilla, seated on a low stool at her mother's feet, was nursing a litter of mewing kittens. Philip Oglander occupied a chair close by, and was speaking whenTimothy appeared, entertaining his cousins by his descriptions of life in Brazil, of adventurous journeys through primeval forests, of horseback rides across the wide pampas, and dream-like voyages among the islands of the Antilles.
"And prithee, cousin Philip, didst never go to any school out there in those beauteous places?" asked Drusilla.
And Philip answered:
"Nay, there be neither schools nor colleges in the Brazil, saving only those which are kept up by the Jesuit fathers, and with them and their Romish fashions I could have no dealings."
"And yet thou'rt not lacking in classical knowledge," remarked Lady Betty with a smile, as she plied her busy needle; "for I heard thee but a little while since reading to Gilbert out of his book of Virgil, and it seemeth to me that thy skill in the Latin tongue doth greatly excel that of many English boys I have known who have studied at the great colleges of Oxford."
At this Philip shrugged his shoulders and affected to make light of the accomplishment, concealing the fact that it was one of those same Jesuit priests who had taught him in one of the Romish colleges of Brazil.
Lady Betty smiled at him yet again. "Thou'rt too modest, Master Philip," said she.
"Ay," added Gilbert; "but I have observed that Philip doth ever strive to avoid all vain boastfulness."
"'Tis a commendable quality," remarked his mother.
Clearly did it appear to Timothy Trollope that Philip had already won his way into the good opinion of his relatives, and that they were disposed to like him, not only because of his relationship, but also, as it seemed, because of a certain air of natural courtliness that revealed itself in his manner of speech. Moreover, there was an attraction in his dark handsome face and in his dreamy beautiful eyes which made him very winsome. Even Timothy, who had from the first taken a strong prejudice against him, could not but admit to himself that there was something of inborn nobility about the lad which might give the lie to all that old Hartop had hinted regarding him.
Later on that same day, when Sir Walter Raleigh and his retinue had departed, Timothy took horse and rode in to Plymouth to attend the examination of the two poachers before Justice Oldfield. Jacob Hartop, Bob Harvey, and Jake Thew had ridden in advance of him, and he did not overtake them until they were on the outskirts of the town, at a little wayside hostelry where their horses were stabled, and thence they walked to the court-house.
Hartop and Timothy walked together along by the harbour, when, on approaching the quay against which the good shipPearlwas now lying, they came upon a crowd of men—mariners, fishermen, and merchants—who appeared to be greatly concerned in some matter which was going on in their midst.
"Ah! I can e'en guess what 'tis," said Hartop. "'Tis Captain Evans putting up our crew of blackamoors to auction. He bought 'em over in Florida, lacking better hands, to work the ship home. Ay, and a sorry lot they proved, Master Timothy. I warrant he'll get scarce a half of the price he gave for them. Thou seest the black woolly poll of the tall African who is standing upon the wine-cask close against the auctioneer? We named him Æsop, by reason of his fables. He was once upon a time the reigning king of a country nigh unto Sierra Leone, with as many wives as there be days in the year. Captain Hawkins captured him and sold him to the Spaniards. He served as our cook aboard thePearl, and I promise you he made such soup as the Queen herself might relish. As for his manner of cooking a cutting from off the side of a shark, why, Lor' bless you, sir!—"
The old man broke off abruptly as a heavy hand was laid on his shoulder.