"AND HOW FARES IT WITH THEE, OLD SHIPMATE?"
"Od's life!" exclaimed the hearty voice of Sir Francis Drake. "So 'tis thy very self, Jacob? Faith, thou'rt passing nimble on thy feet, for all thy gray hairs. And how fares it with thee, old shipmate? Hast brought thy fortune home with thee?"
"Fortune, Captain Drake?" returned Hartop, grasping the knight's proffered hand; "Lor' bless you, sir, I'd none to bring saving only a handful of precious stones that were stolen from me within an hour's time of my landing. No, the great fortune that you wot of,and theGolden Galleonthat carried it, now lie at the bottom of the sea—a wealthy treasure-house that hath claimed tribute from many a good ship that you and I have known, Master Drake."
Sir Francis nodded.
"True, Jacob, true," said he with a sad smile that seemed to betoken a world of melancholy memories, "and the last long home of many a goodly man of Devon that hath been our shipmates! Ay, man, and thou hast lost it, eh? Why, 'twould have made thee one of the wealthiest men in all England had it been brought home here to Plymouth. But I had e'en guessed that some such dire misfortune had befallen thee when I heard that thou hadst come hither aboard this worm-eaten old craft, thePearl; for well did I know that friend Hartop must surely have been put to the hardest of shifts ere he would consent to sail i' the same vessel as Master Jasper Oglander. And, touching that matter, Jacob, how came it I pray you, that Jasper got possession of any ship of Sir Walter Raleigh's?"
"He had chartered her for the homeward voyage," answered Hartop, "and spent his last groat in victualling her. Master John Evans was our captain, the command falling to him on the death of your old friend, Will Marsden."
"'Tis a fact, then, that Will is dead?" cried Drake in a tone of surprised inquiry, as he gazed across the harbour. Then lowering his voice and touching Jacobon the shoulder he added: "Prithee, Jacob, answer me this—had he you wot of aught to do with Will's death?"
"Hush!" cautioned Hartop, suddenly gripping Drake's arm. "Here cometh Jasper himself!"
Timothy moved aside while Jasper Oglander strode along the causeway with silent tread, his eyes bent on the ground as if he were absorbed in some important business that required his deepest thought. As he passed nigh, however, he raised his eyes and looked out from under his wide sombrero hat full into Drake's face. His own face became very red, all except the scar on his cheek, which remained of a dead white colour. He quickly averted his gaze and passed on without a word, hastening his steps somewhat.
Sir Francis Drake and Jacob Hartop exchanged meaning glances.
"You see he doth still bear the mark of the cut you gave him across his craven face," remarked Hartop as he watched Jasper crossing the muddy street.
A grim smile played for a moment upon Drake's handsome, ruddy countenance as he answered:
"Ay, marry. And i' faith 'twas a pretty enough cut for him to remember me by—eh, Jacob? I warrant me he ne'er looks in his looking-glass without minding of the occasion of it. And yet methinks I might well have dealt him a severer blow without blame, for he had surely done for me outright had you not so timely warned me of his evil purpose. Dost remember, Jacob,how he came stealing aft to my cabin, with the moonlight glinting on his naked rapier—how he silently pushed open the door, and then, believing me to be slumbering, prepared to do his work?"
"Right well do I mind it," returned Hartop with a grave shake of the head. "And greatly have I marvelled ever since how it came that you let him off so easily. Any man less forgiving than yourself would assuredly have had him slung up to the yard's-arm for attempting so foul a deed."
Timothy overheard this part of the conversation, but, not wishing to seem to take interest in other people's affairs, he strode a few steps away and stood at the edge of the quay looking down upon the untidy and now deserted deck of thePearl. But what he had heard had nevertheless given him occasion for reflection.
"So 'twas a falsehood he told when he declared to my father yesterday that the wound was made by an Indian's arrow," he said to himself as he leaned against the granite pillar round which one of the ship's thick ropes was bound. "I might even have guessed as much, for the cut is not one such as any arrow could make. Certes, I wonder what Master Gilbert will think of his uncle when he doth learn what manner of man he truly is! Methinks I was not so far in error, after all, when I said that I distrusted him, although 'twas no more than mere instinct that gave me that feeling concerning him. But I now have warrant for my opinion,in all conscience, and if I make not a huge mistake, some grave trouble will ere long spring out of his coming to Modbury Manor; for it seemeth that he doth intend to take up his residence in my lord's family. Ay, faith, and a mighty pretty gentleman he is to be counted one of so noble and honourable a household!"
Timothy's anxiety grew deeper and deeper as he continued to review the situation. It was not the mere discovery that Jasper Oglander was untruthful which disturbed his peace of mind. It was not even the thought that there might, after all, be some reason in the accusations which Jacob Hartop had made against him in the earlier morning. It was the reflection that, as he had just now learned, this Jasper Oglander had once treacherously attempted to take the life of Sir Francis Drake. In common with all English boys at that time Timothy Trollope had a regard for the great seaman and warrior which amounted to reverent worship. Sir Francis Drake was to him the noblest hero in all the world—a hero who could do no wrong, and who had won for England a glory that could never die; and just in proportion as he honoured and reverenced Sir Francis, so did he now detest the man who, for whatsoever cause it may have been, had attempted that hero's life.
Had Timothy been bold enough to follow Jasper Oglander instead of waiting as he now did upon the busy quay, he might have learned something more of the man's treachery. But Jasper was not the man toallow himself to be caught unawares, or to afford any stranger the slightest chance of prying into the secret matters that he had at present in hand. Having crossed the street, he walked on for a few yards looking unconcernedly about him, and then turned in at the front porchway of the Three Flagons.
Passing through the little parlour of the hostelry, where some seamen and merchants sat before the fire gossiping and drinking, he mounted the narrow dark stairs, and, arriving at the second landing, pushed open a creaking door at the end of the corridor. The room that he entered was a small, plainly-furnished apartment, in the front gable of the house, whose side walls sloped upward at a sharp angle, meeting above. A charcoal fire burned in a brazier in one of the corners, and near it on the floor a youth lay sound asleep. Jasper went up to him, listened to his breathing for a few moments, and then strode to the little casement window and looked down upon the quay where Drake and Hartop still stood talking together. He watched them until they parted, and when Timothy Trollope and Hartop had gone their way to the courthouse be glanced once more at his sleeping companion, drew a chair to the little centre table, and sat down with his elbow on the table and his head resting on his hand. Thus he remained for many minutes, ruminating.
"And yet, what should it matter to me whom the old man hath speech with?" he presently murmured, as if arguing with himself. "He can tell naughtHonest clown that he is, he had not so much as looked at the letter, for the seal was unbroken. He can, therefore, know naught of its purport. I warrant me Will Marsden was too cautious a man to venture to impart his knowledge by word of mouth, and if old Hartop doth not know, no man else can know. There cannot be a person in England, saving only myself, who doth even suspect aught of His Spanish Majesty's designs. The treasure will be brought safely over to Spain, and then with a new armada well equipped we may snap our fingers at England's Drakes and Howards and her much-vaunted strength upon the seas. As for Elisabeth Tudor—we'll burn her at the stake, and a fitting end for the heretic Jezebel, say I!"
He thrust his hand into the breast of his doublet and drew forth first a little canvas bag, which he laid before him on the table, and then a soiled and crumpled sheet of paper, that was folded and refolded into a small parcel of the size of his own hand. This last he opened out in front of him. It was closely covered with writing. He glanced down the page, his eyes following his finger from line to line until he came to a little below the middle, and here he paused.
"Ay, by my faith, considering thou wert but a poor untutored mariner, thou hast put the matter exceeding well, Master Will," he muttered admiringly. "As for thy good counsel, 'twere wiser than most seamen could give. But 'tis useless now, seeing that Sir WalterRaleigh, for whom thou didst intend it, can neither receive it nor profit by it."
He stopped and shot a glance in the direction of the man lying before the fire.
"Art sleeping, Andrea?" he questioned in a low voice. But a deep-drawn breath was the only answer, and he again went on silently reading.
When he had got to the end of the paper he took it in his fingers and deliberately tore it into small shreds. He silently carried the fragments to the fire and cast them upon it, going down on his knees and blowing the charcoal into a glow until the paper caught alight and was consumed. Then, returning to the table he took up the little canvas bag, loosened its strings and poured its contents into the palm of his hand. Glistening gems they were—emeralds that were clear and green as a curling ocean wave pierced by a shaft of sunlight; sapphires that were blue as a Pacific sea that reflects the azure sky; rubies that were as drops of crimson blood; together with many beauteous pearls and other precious stones, wonderful to behold. He counted them all one by one, made a mental estimate of their value, and then, smiling with satisfaction, returned them to the bag, which he carefully tied up and as carefully hid away in the breast of his doublet.
Having done this he stepped towards the youth near the fire, and, bending down, prodded him with his finger.
"Andrea!" he said. "Andrea! Come, wake up!"
Andrea turned over, rubbed his eyes with his knuckles, and presently rose to his feet.
"Sancta Maria!" he muttered, "what a dream I have had! Methought I was engaged in a deadly duel, and that mine adversary had run me through!"
"Doubtless 'tis the recollection of your struggle with old Hartop," remarked Jasper, speaking, as the youth had done, in the Spanish tongue. "But come, what of the errand I sent you out upon two hours ago? Didst discover aught of our friends?"
"That I did," replied Andrea, "and more easily than I had expected. 'Twas my father's friend, Don Miguel Fernandes that I met. He hath been a prisoner here in this town for the past two years, with his companions to the number of five-and-twenty. Some of the less important of them are confined in a strong-built house in the centre of the town, and are under the charge of one Master Richard Drake—a kinsman of the great Dragon. But some half-dozen Castilian gentlemen—survivors of the Armada,—who were shipwrecked in Ireland, are of the number, and these, it seemeth, are permitted to go abroad for six hours every day, having given their parole."
"And who are these same gentlemen? What are their names?" inquired Jasper. And when Andrea had named them he said: "A goodly company! By the mass, a most noble company! Assuredly Spain can ill afford to let them languish here when theymight so easily be at home working for His Most Christian Majesty and our Holy Mother church!" He touched the youth's shoulder and added with grave earnestness: "Look you, Andrea, these gentlemen must escape from England, and that speedily, for there is no time to be lost."
Andrea looked up surprised and eager.
"Escape!" he repeated. "Ah! but how, señor, how?"
"Nay, I know not how," answered Jasper with a shrug, "but 'tis surely possible. I only marvel how it happens that they have not themselves contrived it long since."
"Ay, but they have given their word of honour," returned Andrea; "and thou knowest as well as I that a Spanish gentleman cannot break his word."
"Pooh!" cried Jasper. "'Tis no breach of honour to break one's word to heretics! But leave the matter to me, and, by our Lady, I'll contrive it, in spite of Drake and all of them." He broke off and glanced towards the door, which had been opened. A young negro woman stood upon the threshold. "What want you, Catalina?" he demanded.
She answered him in halting Spanish, saying that the señora her mistress had heard his voice, and had sent her in to ask him if it was his wish that she should make herself ready for the journey to Modbury.
"Tell the señora that we start in half an hour's time," said he; and then he turned to Andrea to further discuss the matter of the Spanish prisoners of war.
A RAPIER AND A RIDING WHIP.
ITwas late in the afternoon when Timothy returned to Modbury, and when he had taken some food he made his way up the stairs to his young master's room. Gilbert was reading when he entered, but, at sight of Timothy, threw aside his book.
"Ah, thou'rt back!" cried Gilbert. "Well, what of the cut-purse gypsies, Tim? Didst see them?"
"Ay, full well did I see them," answered Timothy. "And Justice Oldfield hath dealt with them according to their deserts. They are men well beknown in the neighbourhood, Master Gilbert, and you must even yourself have ofttimes seen or heard of them. The elder of them, who is known as Red Bob, hath been in the lock-up once before for a like offence. His companion is a young seaman named Tom Lane. They both were armed with daggers. The third man who was with them in the stealing of the farm poultry, and who is supposed by many to have been the man whom you crossed swords with, is not yet arrested. Justice Oldfield tried to prove them guilty of the robbery of Jacob Hartop's wallet, but neither Jacob nor I could swear to their identity. There was naught to prove that they were the same men that we encountered, so they were charged with the poaching alone and escaped a hanging on the accusation of highway robbery, andthey have been thrown into prison, where they are to remain for the space of six months."
"But surely there could be no possible mistake in supposing that they were the same men," remarked Gilbert. "I can well believe that it was not easy for you to recognize them, but the empty wallet was found near to the place where these fellows were caught, and there is certainly enough evidence in that fact alone to prove that the two crimes were committed by these same men!"
"So it might seem," returned Timothy; "but Hartop declared most positively that the men who attacked and robbed him in nowise resembled these poachers, and for my own part I was well-nigh as positive as he."
"And, prithee, by what token art thou so sure?" inquired Gilbert. Timothy did not answer immediately. He was considering within his own mind whether he should give expression to his suspicions against Jasper and Philip Oglander. These suspicions had grown even stronger since he had learned more of Jasper's evil character, but he still had no other foundation for them than Jacob Hartop's assertion regarding the footmarks in Beddington Lane, and he felt the injustice of making any accusation of a definite sort. At last he replied somewhat falteringly:
"It seemeth to me, in so far as I can recollect, that the men we encountered in the dingle wore large wide hats such as seamen wear, whereas Red Bob and Tom Lane had small, close-fitting caps. Furthermore, asthou'rt aware, Master Gilbert, the man who crossed rapiers with thee and wounded thee was a skilful swordsman—a more skilful than any rogue and vagabond about these parts is likely to be."
Gilbert shook his head doubtingly.
"There is no knowing," he said; "these rascals are acquainted with all manner of tricks and subterfuges. It doth not seem to me that 'tis in anywise likely that there were two separate and distinct companies of thieves at work in the one neighbourhood and at the same hour. Well do I believe that these rascals, Red Bob and Tom Lane, as you name them, were guilty of both the theft from the farmyard and the stealing of old Jacob Hartop's wallet, and that Justice Oldfield hath been over lenient." He paused a few minutes to take up some food from his plate that was near him. Then continuing, he said: "Hark you, Timothy. My grandfather hath been speaking with me touching this same Jacob Hartop, and it seemeth that the old mariner was the bearer of a most precious letter for Sir Walter Raleigh, containing news of the King of Spain's treasure-ships. The letter hath been carried off by these thieves, and 'tis necessary, nay, 'tis even of vital importance to England, that it should be recovered, lest it fall into the hands of any friend of Spain. Were I able to go about I should make it my business to search for it, but I am told that I must rest my sore foot for a day or two longer, and it were as well that thou shouldst undertake the matter in my stead."
Timothy had looked up sharply at mention of the missing letter. So this was the thing of value concerning which Jacob Hartop had said that rather than lose it he would willingly have sacrificed his own life! The information had given Tim an important clue. It had given him the new suggestion that the robbery had been arranged beforehand, and was no mere highwayman's attack upon a chance traveller, for it was now clear that the person who had stolen the letter from the old man must have known full well of its existence, and committed the robbery with the express purpose of gaining possession of it and thus intercepting its delivery into Sir Walter Raleigh's hands. Timothy arrived at this conclusion even before his young master had ceased speaking, and, taking into consideration Hartop's hint that Jasper was secretly a friend of Spain, he regarded it as well-nigh certain that Jasper was himself the thief, and was in all probability in present possession of the missing document. He did not dare as yet to reveal his suspicions to Gilbert, but he resolved to seek for still further evidence in support of them. When he should have gathered full and undeniable proof against Jasper it would then be time enough to expose his villainy. And with this resolve in his mind he silently quitted the room.
It chanced that as he passed down the wide staircase and into the back hall he caught sight of Philip Oglander's rapier hanging from a rack. He went to it,and after taking it down he drew it from its scabbard, finding that it was, as Jacob Hartop had said, of more than the ordinary length of blade. He was examining its sharp, slender point when he was startled by hearing a voice behind him.
"It seemeth that you discover something of interest about my rapier," said Philip Oglander.
Timothy turned round and said with confident coolness:
"I was but observing its great length, Master Philip. 'Tis a handsome weapon; but perchance you are not aware, sir, that in England 'tis unlawful to carry a rapier so long in the blade as this is."
Philip Oglander smiled, showing his beautiful white teeth.
"The same remark was made to me yesternight by one of my grandfather's guests," said he. "Sir Richard Grenville, I think it was. He, too, cautioned me against wearing it. I would have the blade shortened, therefore, if there be any man about the household who can do it. I will e'en leave the matter in your hands."
"Of a surety," agreed Timothy, wondering at the youth's courtesy towards him, "our blacksmith will clip it down to the lawful measurement. I will, if you so please, take it down to him in the early morning."
Now, Timothy Trollope had examined the rapier less with the intention of considering the length of the blade than with the object of discovering if by any chance there remained upon it any evidence of theweapon having been used in a recent encounter. If, as Jacob Hartop had confidently averred, it was Philip who had fought with and wounded Master Gilbert on the previous evening, then there was certainly a vague possibility of the weapon still bearing some slight trace of blood. But if Tim had expected to find any such stain he was disappointed, for he discovered the steel to be bright and clean from hilt to point.
Nevertheless, he continued for many days thereafter to keep a close watch upon the doings of both Jasper and Philip, in the expectation that by some carelessly-spoken word or unconsidered act either of them might betray himself, and reveal not only a knowledge of the missing letter but also perhaps his sympathy with the King of Spain. Timothy felt that in thus spying upon his master's relatives he was to some extent disloyal and dishonourable; but Hartop had awakened in his mind strange misgivings regarding them, and his only aim was to arrive at the truth. He had wished for help from Jacob Hartop in the matter, but the old man had shown a dread of remaining in a neighbourhood in which there was a danger of his encountering Jasper Oglander, and on the third day after his arrival in England he had set off on foot to the village of Polperro, where, as he had heard, a niece of his was at that time living, so that Timothy could not now consult with him.
On a certain afternoon some time thereafter Timothy and Gilbert, who had now recovered from his hurts,were crossing the market-place of Plymouth towards one of the side streets, when Timothy observed Sir Francis Drake standing at the doorway of a mercer's shop. Sir Francis, in spite of his long friendship with Lord Champernoun, had avoided Modbury Manor ever since the arrival there of Jasper Oglander, giving as his reason the excuse that he was extremely busy in the work of making new fortifications on St. Nicholas Island. His gaze now rested upon the figures of three men who stood at some thirty yards away from him. One of them was Jasper Oglander. His companions were Don Miguel Fernandes, the chief of the Spanish prisoners of war, and young Andrea de Ortega.
Timothy touched Gilbert's elbow.
"There stands your uncle, Master Gilbert," said he, "holding speech with our enemies of Spain."
"Ay," returned Gilbert, showing no surprise. "Haply he is giving the poor fellows some consolation in their affliction."
"'Tis such consolation as Sir Francis Drake doth not wholly approve of," said Timothy, "for look you, there he goes towards them to interrupt their conspiracies!"
Gilbert gave a light laugh.
"Conspiracies, forsooth!" said he. "Your mind doth ever run upon such fancies, Tim. Dost imagine that my uncle, even if he had a mind to conspire,—which is impossible in one of his upright and honourable nature,—would be so simple as to carry on such doubtfulbusiness in the public streets? Od's life, Tim, y'are even as suspicious as Christopher Pym, who approached me this morning with a long, woeful face and declared that he had come upon my aunt, Donna Lela, muttering Romish prayers over her beads and crossing herself like a veritable Papist! Christopher bade me go with him and bear eye-witness to his strange discovery, and I found the woman innocently engaged in unwinding a skein of silk that Pym had mistaken for a rosary, and crooning a quaint Portuguese love-song that he had taken for a paternoster! So I had the laugh of Christopher, as I now have of thee, Master Timothy, for mark you how Sir Francis is now passing your imagined conspirators, who are doubtless talking of no more serious subject than the price of bread!"
"Ay, but they have separated for all that," remarked Timothy, observing that Jasper Oglander at sight of Drake had bidden a hasty farewell to the two Spaniards. It was upon the point of Timothy's tongue to retort further by informing his young master of the conversation he had overheard some days before between Sir Francis and old Hartop concerning Jasper. But at that moment they were met at the street corner by a tall, broad-shouldered young gallant, by name Roland Grenville, who grasped Gilbert's hands very heartily and congratulated him on his so easy recovery from his late hurts.
"Tut! my hurts were scarce worth the mention," quoth Gilbert. "Prithee, speak of other matters, andtell me—hath Sir Richard yet returned from London?"
Sir Richard's stalwart son shook his head.
"Nay," he answered. "He hath scarce had time to get there as yet, nor do we expect him back for some weeks yet to come. He hath gone to the town of Rochester to see to the fitting out of the good shipRevenge, which is now lying in the river Medway. He is to bring her round to Plymouth when she is ready for sea. What her destination may thereafter be I know not, for 'tis held a secret; but wheresoever she may be bound for I do heartily rejoice to think that I am to have a berth aboard of her. 'Tis no small honour to be appointed to so renowned a ship. You, too, I hear, are to go out in her. So we shall be shipmates, eh?"
"Ay, that is indeed so," returned Gilbert with a proud smile, "for your father promised me the coveted opportunity, and charged me ere he went away to make ready against his return. You may be certain I am anxious for the time to come, for 'tis my first voyage, as you know. I am not like you, who have already heard the thunder of ships' guns in battle. Dost expect we shall have any fighting, Roland?"
"Fighting!" exclaimed Grenville. "Why, bless you, lad, there would be small use in our voyaging if there were not! I know that the ship is being fitted with brand-new guns of brass. Prithee, what should that bode but fighting? 'Twould go ill with us indeed ifthere were not a few Spanish galleons to give chase to in whatsoever seas we may sail. And I promise you theRevengewill not be far behind when 'tis a question of fighting the Don and capturing his treasure-ships."
He moved to go, but paused to add: "Hast seen aught of Sir Francis Drake these few days past? I am told he is in marvellous dudgeon in that my father instead of himself hath got the command of theRevenge."
"His disappointment is but natural," returned Gilbert, "seeing that he hath fought so often and so well upon her decks. But I heard him remark only the last time that I spoke with him, that if there was one man other than himself to whom the Queen might fittingly entrust this her favourite warship, that man was your father—Sir Richard Grenville."
During the journey homeward on that afternoon Gilbert noticed that Timothy was unusually silent.
"Certes, but thou'rt passing gloomy this afternoon, Trollope," he said; "what ails thee, quotha?"
"I was but grieving at the near prospect of your quitting England, sir," answered Timothy, "and at your leaving me behind when I should be far happier, ay, and peradventure more useful, were I to accompany you. I would gladly give all that I have, or may have, in the world to be with you aboard theRevenge, though my duty were only the swabbing of the decks or the cleaning of the brass guns of which Master Grenville spake."
Gilbert looked at him with an amused smile.
"Why, lad," said he, "I had never dreamed that there was the spirit of a seaman in thee. But if it be that y'are set upon the voyage, 'twill be an easy matter for me to speak on your behalf to Sir Richard Grenville or some other of Her Majesty's generals. I'll bear't in mind, Tim."
And Timothy, hearing this, became in a moment light of heart. He exulted in this new possibility, and bore himself with as much pride and conscious dignity as if indeed he had already been appointed by Her Majesty's own personal warrant.
During the few following weeks of impatient waiting, Gilbert Oglander was occupied in making preparation for his expected departure, and also in paying farewell visits to certain of his friends and relatives in various parts of the country.
On one such visit, which was to Willoughby Grange, in the north part of Devon, he was accompanied by his uncle Jasper. They had been absent for two days, during which time Jasper Oglander made himself so extremely agreeable that Gilbert, already disposed in his favour, was at last so completely won over to him that he found something to love or to admire in all that he did and all that he said.
They were on their return journey, riding southward along the road towards Plymouth; their tired horses were ambling side by side. Jasper had been earnestly urging his nephew to make the best of his greatopportunity in regard to the forthcoming voyage with Sir Richard Grenville; for although the intended destination of theRevengeand her companion ships of the fleet was still held a close secret, yet Jasper did not doubt, as he said very plainly, that under the leadership of so able a general as Grenville there would be much honour to gain and great wealth to bring home.
"As for fighting," he said, "'tis impossible that you can fail to have many a brush with the Spaniards, and I know full well that when you enter into battle you will play no coward's part, for you are a true Oglander and will surely distinguish yourself as all our ancestors have done. Be bold, therefore. Be bold, my boy."
And thereupon he continued to speak of warfare, making it out that there was nothing to be afraid of in cannon-balls or boarding-pikes so long as a man kept his wits about him and dared to mix in the thickest of the fight. It would seem, indeed, that Jasper had almost a personal motive in urging his nephew thus earnestly, but of this Gilbert in his innocence guessed nothing.
"There is one matter as to which I would counsel thee, however," Jasper continued, "and that is that thou wouldst do well to reconsider thy intention of allowing that madcap youngster, Timothy Trollope, to bear thee company. I like not his too familiar bearing towards thee. He is no fitting companion for one of thy noble birth. I would not trust him."
Gilbert Oglander looked at his uncle in astonishment.
"I must confess I have never yet found Timothy Trollope to be aught else than a good and faithful servant," said he, "nor do I see any possible reason why he should not accompany me. He is the son of a very worthy tradesman in Plymouth, and I have ever known him to speak the truth and to act in all matters as beseemeth an honest youth."
"Speaks the truth!" cried Jasper, leaning forward on his saddle to adjust his horse's rein that had got twisted; "speaks the truth, say you? Body o' me! why, 'twas only two nights since that I caught him in one of the blackest of lies. Nay," he added, seeing the incredulity in Gilbert's face, "there is no need to dwell upon the matter. I will not repeat so base a slander."
"But 'tis only right that I should know it, uncle," pursued Gilbert. "If Trollope be indeed untruthful 'twere well that I should not be kept in ignorance. Prithee, tell me what the lie was that he told thee."
Jasper rode on in silence for several minutes as if in doubt.
"The lie was this," he said at last. "He declared that thy mother, the Lady Betty, was in her secret heart of the Romish Church, and that she was even now, unknown to my Lord Champernoun, carrying on a political intrigue with the King of Spain."
Gilbert reined in his horse and regarded his uncle for a moment in bewilderment.
"What?" he cried. "Dost tell me that Timothy said such things as that? Nay, I can scarce believe it. The scoundrel! the base ingrate! 'Tis a deliberate, scandalous falsehood!"
Jasper nodded and said: "Right glad I am to see that thou look'st upon the matter thus seriously, Gilbert. I only marvel how the knave could have dared to say such a thing in my hearing. But 'tis ever the way with these low-born and ill-bred louts. I'd have no more to do with him an I were thou. Let the dog go back to the gutter whence you took him."
Now, Gilbert was very sorely troubled and vexed about this matter. He could not believe that Timothy would stoop to the telling of a lie, much less to the utterance of a scandal. And yet, he asked himself, was not his uncle Jasper equally incapable of falsehood? Arguing with himself as he continued on the ride homeward, he scarce could come to any clear reason either way, nor indeed could he see the possibility of finally making up his mind until he should confront young Trollope and boldly accuse him of the lie.
It happened very opportunely that the very first person whom they met upon the road was Timothy himself. He came galloping towards them on one of Lord Champernoun's favourite hunting horses. Gilbert observed, as he approached nearer, that his face was radiant with some new joy.
"The ship hath arrived!" cried Timothy ere yet hewas within the distance of a score yards. "TheRevengehath entered into Plymouth harbour!" And then as he drew rein he noticed that Gilbert, instead of showing gladness, looked sorely troubled and annoyed.
"Your pardon, Master Gilbert," said he, "I see you are vexed that I should be riding upon his lordship's own horse. But indeed it was my lord himself who bade me do so."
"Nay, I am vexed at no such harmless matter as that," returned Gilbert gloomily.
"I had hoped that the news I brought you would afford you pleasure, sir," pursued Timothy.
"It might well have done so had it not been that I have heard other news which hath given me pain," quoth Gilbert. And, raising his voice in angry accusation, he added: "I hear that two days ago you told a vile lie about my mother—a lie which, were you even closer to me than you have hitherto been, I could never forgive."
Timothy winced under his young master's frown; but Gilbert went on mercilessly: "You had the baseness to declare that my mother is an idolatrous Papist, and that she hath been secretly in league with the King of Spain. How dare you utter such scandalous lies? How dare you, I say?"
For the moment Timothy imagined that his master was suddenly bereft of his senses.
"I deny that I did ever utter any such thoughts,"he stammered, looking Gilbert full boldly in the face. "Nay, how were it possible that I should do so, knowing that there liveth not a more devout Protestant in all England than my lady, nor a more faithful subject of Queen Elizabeth? 'Tis a cruel falsehood, Master Gilbert, and methinks you might know me better than to accuse me thus upon a mere malicious report."
He glanced towards Jasper, who had brought his horse nearer to where his own and Gilbert's steeds stood restless at the roadside.
"'Tis not very hard for me to guess the source whence that report hath reached you," Timothy went on, his face growing pale in his indignation, and his white lips trembling. "I will warrant me that 'twas your virtuous uncle here who thus maligned me. But since he hath spoken falsely of me, I will now speak the truth regarding himself. You are deceived in him, Master Gilbert—vastly deceived. You think him a man of honour, but I tell you he is a traitor end a renegade."
Timothy broke off, disturbed by the look of evil menace that had come into Jasper's dark eyes which were now fixed upon him.
"Proceed," commanded Jasper, gripping the silver handle of his riding-whip. "Prithee, say your say, young man. But mark you, if you dare to say aught that is not true of me, by the Holy Rood, sirrah, I will thrash you within an inch of your life."
This swearing by the Romish emblem passed at the moment unnoticed by Gilbert, but it did not escape Timothy Trollope.
"I care as little for your threats as I do for your Papist oaths," the lad retorted, growing bolder. And then turning to Gilbert he continued: "So please you, sir, 'twas not the Lady Betty but Master Jasper himself whom I accused of being a Papist and of being secretly in league with the King of Spain."
"'Tis a lie!" cried Jasper furiously, wheeling his horse round so that he came within a few feet of Timothy. But Timothy was now roused, and he determined to speak his mind at all hazards.
"'Tis no lie!" he declared firmly as he watched the man's whip hand. "Both your wife and your son, as well as yourself, are sworn Papists, and you are yourself, as I well know, little better than a skulking spy of King Philip of Spain. If it be not as I say, then, prithee, what mean all your secret meetings and underhand plottings with the Spanish prisoners of war down in Plymouth town? Wherefore, also, I pray you, did you purloin Captain Marsden's letter from old Jacob Hartop?"
Jasper's face had grown white with suppressed indignation. His eyes flashed threateningly.
"Take that for an answer, thou base, lying scoundrel!" he cried savagely; and, leaning forward over his saddle, he dealt the lad a smart and vicious cut across his face with the riding-whip. Timothywas well-nigh blinded with the pain, and presently a drop of blood trickled down his cheek.
"Impertinent whelp!" continued Jasper, preparing to repeat the blow. But Timothy had backed his horse a few steps, and, instead of striking him, Jasper hurled the whip at his head. Timothy dexterously caught it in his hand and flung it some distance along the road, at the same time spurring his horse and galloping away. Gilbert watched him for a moment, and then called him back. But Timothy went on, very sad at heart, for he divined that his young master had lost faith in him.
And indeed it seemed that this was the case, for later on the same day, when Gilbert was at the kennels paying a visit to one of his favourite dogs, Timothy approached him.
"So please you, Master Gilbert—" began Tim in a tone of abject apology. But Gilbert looked at him in stern reproof, and interrupted him, saying:
"Look you, Trollope, I'll have no more of these malicious tales of yours. 'Tis no business of yours to act the spy upon my relatives, and I command you to do no more of it."
Timothy hung his head, hurt to the quick by the reproach.
"Must I then take it that you have lost all confidence in me, Master Gilbert?" he asked.
"Ay," returned Gilbert. "Much am I afraid that 'tis so indeed."
"Then, sir," said Timothy in an unsteady voice, "'twere surely best that I should leave you; for I cannot brook your displeasure, nor think of remaining in the service of a master who hath lost trust in my honour."
"E'en do as ye list," retorted Gilbert. And Timothy, taking the words for a dismissal, walked slowly away, well-nigh broken-hearted.
On the evening of the following day the news reached Modbury Manor that the Spanish prisoners of war, to the number of seven-and-twenty, had made their escape.
THE AFFRAY ON POLPERRO BEACH.
ITwas at an ivy-covered house standing upon the heights a little distance beyond the fishing village of Polperro that Jacob Hartop had taken his present refuge. His niece, whom he had been at some pains to discover, was the wife of that Captain Whiddon who sailed out in the service of Sir Walter Raleigh, with intent to discover the Land of Gold that was supposed to lie beyond the river Orinoco, and who, with his ship's crew, had endured untold privations in the swamps of Trinidad, all of which may be read in Raleigh's printed account of his discovery ofthe Empire of Guiana and the great and golden city of Manoa.
Mrs. Mercy Whiddon had a cluster of sturdy boys and girls about her, and you may be sure that Master Hartop was a right welcome guest in their home, for he had a deft hand at the making of a wheelbarrow or a rabbit-hutch, and his tales of adventure were ever of the exciting sort which young people do most delight to hear. Captain Whiddon himself was no less pleased than his sons and daughters to have old Jacob under his roof, for it chanced that Hartop and he had known each other years before, out on the Spanish Main, and had struck up a friendship from the simple reason that they both were men of Devon, and that they both bore the name of Jacob.
On a certain evening, ere yet the children had gone to their beds, the family were seated in the living room. From the window they could see the glistening track of the moon's silvery light across the Channel, with here and there a black-sailed fishing-boat pitching about upon the waves; in moments of silence they could hear the breaking of the tide upon the rocks below the cliff, and the ivy leaves, disturbed by the wind, tapping against the diamond panes of the window casement. Jacob Whiddon sat in the ingle, with Bertha, his youngest girl, perched on his knee. Ambrose Pennington, who had sailed round from Plymouth to confer with the captain on some matter concerning Lord Thomas Howard's fleet, sat near him, whileJacob Hartop sat in the midst of a group of children, who were attentively watching him as with a large knife and a block of deal wood he fashioned the rough hull of a boat.
"And how many masts will the ship have?" questioned one of the boys.
"Three, Master Jack," answered Hartop; "for 'tis a ship royal, like unto theDefiancethat is now lying in Plymouth."
"Then we must e'en have an admiral's flag made for her," said little Jack. "Mother shall make one for us out of the piece of silk that she cut from off Bertha's belt."
"Nay, but we agreed that the ship should be named thePilgrim," objected the eldest of the boys. "For thePilgrimis father's ship, and she hath but two masts."
"The number of her masts and the name she shall have are matters for yourselves to determine," said Hartop, as he held the boat in front of him bow-on and glanced with one eye along her deck. "The only matter that doth at present concern me is her hull, and when 'tis done, as I promise you it shall be on the morrow, then the rigging of the craft will remain for other hands than mine, for ere she is ready to be launched I shall be far away upon the seas."
He continued to hew at the boat's hull with his knife, shaving down her bows to the required degree of roundness.
"Thou'lt not forget the string of coral beads you did promise me," said Jack's sister Mary, after a long pause of silence.
"Ay, faith, I'll mind on't, truly," answered Jacob with a smile; "and if luck doth follow us, thou shalt have a goodly chain of pearls into the bargain."
"And wilt bring me home one of those green poll-parrots, or one of the long-tailed monkeys that you told us of?" pleaded one who stood at his knee.
"Ay, surely; I'll bring thee a whole ship-load of such trumpery an Captain Grenville will but let me," returned the old man.
"What!" interposed Ambrose Pennington, turning round on his chair. "Art for going out with the fleet, then, friend Hartop?"
Hartop nodded.
"Ay," he answered. "A life on land hath but few joys for such as me, I find, and I am for having just one cruise more with the buccaneers and another sight of the palm-trees. And yet," he added, "'tis less of my own wish than by the will of Sir Richard Grenville that I go; for he hath besought me to accompany him, since 'tis supposed that I know more than most men touching the purpose of this present expedition."
Pennington drew his chair nearer to the old man and sat facing him, bending forward in attention with his two hands clasped between his knees.
"'Tis nought to be marvelled at that Sir Richard should have such a wish," said he, "for it seemeththat you have some special knowledge of the matter. An it be no secret, Master Hartop, mayhap you'd enlighten us concerning this same cruise, for I, too, am to be aboard theRevenge, and 'tis but natural I should wish to know the purpose of our voyage."
Hartop dusted the shavings of wood from his knees and continued with his work.
"'Tis no longer a secret," he said, "and, indeed, I had thought that Captain Whiddon had already informed you on the matter. Sir Walter Raleigh did in truth bid me keep my knowledge to myself. But that was some three months ago, and now that Her Majesty hath bidden my Lord Thomas Howard assemble this squadron, and hath made no secret of our destination, I know no reason why I should scruple to break silence."
"Nay, 'tis no longer a secret. Tell us the tale," interposed Captain Whiddon. "For all that I do myself know is the simple fact that we are to waylay and capture King Philip's treasure-ships."
"You must know," began Hartop, "that the late expedition which the Queen's ships made to the Western Islands, under Frobisher and Hawkins, during the last summer past, was a failure. Their intention was even the same as ours. But King Philip, getting wind of their purpose, sent out to the Indies, giving orders that his ships were to winter in the Havana, and delay their home-coming until this present summer. Now the result of that delay is, that instead of oneyear's harvest of silver and gold there is now fully double that quantity lying in the treasure-houses of Nombre de Dios waiting to be brought over to Spain. 'Tis the mightiest hoard of wealth that ever was brought together since the world began, and I promise you it will give the Spaniards a hard enough task to transport so large a burden across the seas. Ay, even though every galleon of their armada were loaded up to the gunwales."
"And prithee, Master Hartop, how many galleons do you reckon there will be engaged in that same task?" inquired Captain Whiddon.
"Well, as to that," said Hartop, "I scarce can tell. But this I know full surely, that even at the time when we started homeward in thePearl, there were then lying at the Havana no fewer than fifty of King Philip's finest ships. Many of them were of a thousand tons apiece, which, as I judge, is about double the size of Lord Thomas Howard'sDefiance. Nay, fifty sails, do I say? There were more than that. Let me see! There were three-and-thirty galleons of Nova Hispania, and three-and-twenty of Terra Firma—that's fifty-six. Then there were twelve of San Domingo, and it may be nine of Honduras. How many might that be, all told, Master Jack?"
Jack Whiddon counted on his fingers and presently answered:
"Seventy and seven."
"Body o' me!" exclaimed Ambrose Pennington. "Anddo you say that so vast an armada as that is to be attacked and captured by these half-dozen warships that we now have lying in Sutton Pool?" He held his hand palm uppermost, as if to suggest that it could well embrace the dimensions of the whole of Admiral Howard's fleet. "Why, 'tis madness to think on't!"
"So it might seem," nodded Hartop. "But 'tis as well to understand, Master Pennington, that we have certain very great advantages in our favour. To begin with, these Spaniards have been languishing for many months in an evil climate; they will surely be reduced by disease, by famine, and I know not what other pestilential ills, while we shall meet them strong and fresh and hearty. Their galleons will be half rotten, bored by the teredo worm, overgrown with weeds and barnacles, and, moreover, very heavily laden; while our own ships, on the other hand, are newly fitted out with good sails and riggings, strong clean hulls, good guns, and an abundance of ammunition. Also, you must bear in mind that while the Queen's ships will doubtless keep together in one compact squadron, the Spaniards, by reason of the long voyage, and perhaps stress of weather, to say naught of the differing sailing powers of their ships, will most certainly be separated one from the other, so that 'twill be an easy enough matter for our admiral to pick them off one by one."
"There is good reason in your argument, to be sure."declared Pennington; "and if the matter turn out as you have set it down, I doubt not that we shall, one and all, return to England in a few weeks' time with riches enough to serve us and keep us in luxury to the end of our days."
"Ay," agreed Captain Whiddon, "'tis like a fairy dream."
"As for theRevenge," added Pennington, with an encouraging glance at Jacob Hartop, "she is a right gallant ship, and as pretty a one as you will find upon all the seas, notwithstanding the ill-luck that hath hitherto been her so frequent attendant."
Jacob Hartop raised his grizzled eyebrows.
"Ill-luck?" he repeated. "Why, methought she had been of all Her Majesty's ships the most highly-favoured by fortune. Prithee, was it not upon her decks that Sir Francis Drake held command when he gave such a trouncing to the Duke of Medina-Sidonia three years ago?"
Ambrose Pennington nodded and smiled.
"No man doth know better than I how well she behaved on that same occasion," said he. "I was then but her master's mate, and of no great account on board. But I mind well every incident and movement in the engagement—how we met the Armada down by the Lizard in Cornwall, how we beat them and shuffled them together first to Portland, where they shamefully abandoned Don Pedro de Valdes with his mighty ship to be taken by theRevenge; how wechased them from Portland to Calais, where they lost Hugo de Monçada with the great galleass of which he was captain; then how we drove them with squibs and fireships from their anchorage in Calais Roads, gave them a sound drubbing off the coast of Flanders, and anon chased them out of sight of England, round about Scotland and Ireland, where the storms of the northern seas speedily finished the destruction that we had begun. And I tell thee that there was no ship in all Queen Elizabeth's fleet that did greater service for our country than theRevenge. And yet, for all that, she must still be counted the unfortunatest ship her Queen's Majesty hath had during her reign—"
"Heaven grant that her misfortunes will have forsaken her during this present voyage!" interposed Hartop. "For, although I set not a single groat's value upon my own poor life, yet I am well assured that every man and every ship of our company will be sorely needed ere we fulfil the work that is before us. But, prithee, wherein lieth the ship's ill-luck and misfortune?"
"In many particulars," answered Pennington. "As for example, on her very first voyage when coming back from Ireland, with Sir John Parrot in command, she was like to be cast away upon the sand-banks that are off the Kentish coast. After, in the voyage of Sir John Hawkins in 1586, she struck aground in coming into Plymouth harbour, before her going to sea. Uponthe coast of Spain she left her fleet, ready to sink with a great leak. At her return into Plymouth she beat herself upon the Winter Stone and stove in her bows. Twice did she run aground in going out of Portsmouth haven; and on the latter occasion lay two-and-twenty hours beating upon the shore. Once more she was driven upon the rocks outside of Plymouth here, and lay helpless and abandoned for six winter months. Forced off again, she was being taken to the river Thames to be docked, when, her old leak breaking upon her, she was like to have drowned all her ship's company. And ye have surely heard that even four short months since, when riding at her moorings in the Medway, she turned right over with her keel uppermost. So you see, my masters, in whatsoever way you do regard it withal, she is a ship well laden with disaster and full fraught with ill-success."
"Marry!" cried Jacob Hartop, "but that is indeed a most woeful record for so young a ship. But, I pray you, Master Pennington, wherefore do you so meekly consent to be one of her crew, knowing that she hath been so unfortunate?"
And Pennington answered:
"For the reason that, notwithstanding her misfortunes, she doth still remain the ship which beyond all others in Her Majesty's navy hath given the soundest thrashing to the Spaniards. And I do firmly hope and believe, that if there be any glory to be won on this present expedition it will be mostly won by theRevengeand her gallant commander Sir Richard Grenville. For you must know that Sir Richard hath already won the name of 'the Spaniards' terror'."
Now, while Pennington was in the midst of this speech Mercy Whiddon had gone out of the room, and as she crossed the passage she was startled by hearing the sound of men's feet outside, and the loud rapping of a stick upon one of the panels of the door.
"Save us all!" she exclaimed in sudden alarm. "Who can be coming here at such an hour as this?" And then returning to the room she called upon her husband. "Jacob!" she cried. "There be someone at the door, I pray you open it, for I fear 'tis some unruly stranger." And as she spoke yet another thundering blow fell upon the door.
Jacob Whiddon strode out into the passage and flung open the door.
"What want you?" he demanded, as he espied a tall cloaked figure upon the step. "And who are you that dares to disturb honest folk at this time of night?"
"'Tis I," came the answer; "'tis I, Timothy Trollope of Plymouth town. And I crave your help, Master Whiddon, and the help of as many men as there may be in your house. 'Twas Master Richard Drake that sent me hither. He is down by the beach yonder, lying in wait for the Spanish prisoners who have made their escape. We have tracked them thus far, and have now discovered that a ship is lying in readiness to carry them off to Spain."
"Escaped, have they?" cried Captain Whiddon. "Then, by thunder, if that be so I am with you, my master!" And leaving Timothy standing at the door he returned into the room and called upon Pennington and Hartop to buckle their swords about them, and join with him in the adventure.
Jacob Hartop was the first of the three men to join Timothy in the little garden in front of the house. He carried a long sword and a heavy, cumbrous pistol and a large knotted stick.
"So 'tis you, Master Trollope?" said he, as he glanced into Timothy's face by the light from the window. "And, prithee, how cometh it that thou hast taken to the constable's work of chasing fugitive prisoners?"
"'Twas by chance that I heard the rogues had escaped," said Tim, moving towards the gate as if in eagerness to get down to the beach. "I was passing beside the gaol when Master Richard Drake ran out crying for men to help him, for that his prisoners had escaped. I joined in the crowd, following Master Drake at his horse's heels."
"Ah!" returned Hartop, "trust a Spaniard for winning his way out of a pent-house. They are like unto serpents for guile and cunning, as I well know, who have lived in their midst. But I'll engage that these could scarce have won their freedom without help from the outside. Dost know if they had any such help, Master Trollope?"
Timothy did not reply at the moment, for Whiddonand Pennington had now joined them, and were calling upon the lad to lead the way to the spot where the escaped Spaniards might be expected to be found.
"Yonder lies their ship," explained Timothy, pointing out to the shadowy headland, below which the faint outline of a vessel's hull could be seen. Then, as his eyes still rested upon the ship, he suddenly gripped old Hartop's arm. "Look at her, Jacob Hartop! Look at her well!" he cried. "Dost know the craft, man?"
"Nay, how should I know one ship from another in such uncertain light, and with eyes so dim as mine be?" questioned the old man.
At this Ambrose Pennington cast a glance towards the ship. A gleam of moonlight now rested upon the water behind her, and her tall hull and masts and bellying sails were darkly outlined against the bright light.
"Why, my lad," said he, in a tone of disappointment, "that is no Spanish ship! Y'are fooling us, for sure. No, 'tis no Spanish ship, I say, but just the oldPearl, that hath been lying under repair against Sutton wharf there these two months past, and that hath come out to-day to try her new-made sails! Come you back to the house, Master Whiddon, for I'll be sworn the lad hath but been playing us some childish prank. Spaniards, forsooth! Prithee who ever heard of a Spaniard, aye, or any other prisoner, breaking away from the hands of Richard Drake?"
At that instant there came a long loud whistle from the beach below.
"Hark you, my masters," cried Timothy Trollope, "that whistle is Drake's signal, calling his men together; and I do most positively declare to you that in a very little time there will be some fighting to be done down on the beach, for we saw the Spaniards, to the number of a good score at the least, passing along the headland and making signs to the ship, which were duly answered. Nay, more, we saw a boat put out from the ship and make for the spot where Master Drake and some three or four men of Plymouth now are—"
"Nay, why stand we parleying here?" broke in Jacob Hartop. "I am for climbing down to the beach, and let them follow me who will." And so saying he swung his great stick over his shoulder and took a slanting course down the slope of the cliff, followed closely by Timothy Trollope.
Whiddon and Pennington, it seemed, preferred to descend by the easier way of the footpath, which led down to the shore in another direction. Timothy, with greater eagerness and with more alertness than old Hartop, soon passed his companion, and was down upon the beach while Jacob was still struggling to penetrate a thick tangle of bramble bushes that grew upon the lower slope.
Timothy waited for him some few moments, and as he stood still he became conscious of some movingfigures passing into the shadow behind a wooden hut, in which the fishermen of the neighbouring village kept their old nets and torn sails. A gleam of moonlight glinting upon a drawn sword proved to him that the figures were not those of innocent fishermen. He crept stealthily towards them.
A man presently appeared round the farther corner of the hut. He wore a long cloak and a wide sombrero hat. Timothy guessed that he was one of the escaping Spaniards, and he was about to hail the man when he was startled by once more hearing the long loud whistle, this time close behind him. In an instant as it seemed, he was surrounded by many men. One of them seized him, gripping him by the throat.
"Back there, you Spanish dog!" the fellow cried, at the same moment taking hold of Timothy's drawn sword and dropping it on the shingle behind him.
Timothy knew his voice. It was that of young Roland Grenville.
"Nay, unhand me, Master Grenville," the lad cried, as well as the tightening fingers upon his throat would permit him. "I am Timothy Trollope, that went up to summon Jacob Whiddon. I—I—"
"S'death, lad, I had nearly throttled thee!" cried Grenville, releasing him, and then stooping and taking up Timothy's rapier, he added: "Here, take thy blade and hie thee down to the boats yonder at the water's edge. And, hark ye, if any Spaniard attempt to getaboard, run him through. Dost hear me? Run him through."
Scarcely had he spoken when the report of a pistol-shot from behind him rang through the air. It was Ambrose Pennington who had fired it at the retreating forms of the Spaniards, who, having crept along under the deep shadow of the cliff, had eluded their pursuers and were now hastening across the open beach down towards the water's edge.
"To the boats! to the boats, my lads!" cried Pennington, and he set off at a run, followed by Roland Grenville, Timothy, Richard Drake, and several of the men who had come out from Plymouth. At their heels ran Jacob Hartop, pistol in hand, and as game for a fight as any of them.
When the old man got down to the foreshore, where the outgoing tide was plashing upon the loose stones, he found himself in the midst of some thirty men, who were belabouring each other with their sticks and swords. It was difficult for him in the darkness to discover which were Spaniards and which men of Plymouth. But presently the crowd divided, one half remaining fighting, the others rushing knee-deep into the water and scrambling into one of the two boats that lay afloat within easy reach. Jacob Hartop levelled his pistol at one of the foremost of the fugitives and fired. Without waiting to see the effect of his shot, he turned to discover Captain Whiddon, Roland Grenville, and Timothy Trollope engaged allthree in combat with seven of the Spaniards. Hartop saw that Timothy Trollope was being hard pressed by three of the enemy, who were assailing him with their heavy sticks. Only one of them was armed with a sword, and this one stood in front of Timothy, while his two companions were attacking the lad from the rear.
Jacob rushed headlong into the fray and speedily relieved Timothy of two of his assailants, who, seeing the old man's glittering rapier, and being themselves armed only with cudgels, turned upon their heels and fled towards the boats.