THE ADVENTURERS.
About three weeks after the departure of Clara de Mowbray, a stout-timbered vessel, built after the peculiar fashion of the time, and yet in something improved in its construction from the unwieldy craft in general use, might have been observed beating up against wind and tide on the Kentish coast. The weather, for the time of the year, was unusually rough, and to a heavy rolling sea was added a driving rain, and a roaring gale of wind. There is considerable danger, too, as the mariner well knows, around him on this part of the coast. His craft has been driven out of its course, and the fearful Goodwins are close at hand; still labours on, however, that gallant barque, manned by stout English adventurers. She is trying, amidst the driving rain and furious winds, to make out the mouth of the Sandwich haven; and, whilst her timbers creak, and the blast whistles amongst her rigging, a delicious strain of melody seems to float around her. The notes of a lute are heard by the sailors accompanied by a voice of ravishing sweetness; and, as it issues from the cabin of the vessel, it sounds as if some angel is trying to soothe the fury of the winds and waves.
Dangerous as is this part of the coast, even in the present time, when its perils are so well marked out to the navigator, at the period of our story, it was, by comparison, almost an unknown sea. No secure harbour was then constructed close opposite the Goodwins. No buoys and revolving lights pointed out the dangerous proximity of rocks and shoals; those dread quicksands, whose depths retain the wrecked treasures of successive ages; sands which
"Will not bear our enemy's boats,
But suck them up to the top-mast."
Bravely, however, keeps on that labouring barque. One moment she seems engulphed in the boiling waters, and the mist rolls over the spot where her hull was last tossing. The next she is trembling upon the crested wave, and again about to be hurled from its summit into the waters beneath.
One eye there is, on board, which seems especially to watch over her,—an eye which calmly scans every part around, watches every cord of her rigging, and rectifies every mishap consequent upon the violence of the gale.
Meanwhile, on the waist, the deck, the poop, are to be seen, besides the sailors who work the vessel, lying, sitting, and holding on by the ropes, the forms of fierce and bearded men, clad in the buff leathern dress which formed the usual costume of warriors of the period, their half-armour being doffed during their voyage along the coast.
Suddenly the eye of the chief, as the driving rain for the moment seems to subside, catches sight of a range of white foam. Another and another follow after, till they seem to overtake each other, and mingle in a perfect cauldron of boiling sea.
Then his voice sounds amidst the roar of winds and waters—the sails flap—the cordage strains—and every eye looks anxious, and every heart beats quicker; for that moment is to decide whether the living, and warlike freightage, are to ride safely past the gulf, or to be sucked down amidst the depths of the awful Goodwins.
As the chief mariner leaps upon the bulwark of the vessel, and, grasping the rigging, looks out upon the boiling sea, a slight and graceful youth has emerged from the cabin, and placed himself beside him.
"We are in peril," said he, in a low voice; "these are the fatal sands you thought you had safely passed an hour ago."
But the mariner for the moment heeds not the question of his superior. His whole attention is given to his craft, and the horrible depths she is every minute apparently about to be engulphed in.
It was an awful moment for one so young and delicate-looking as that boy. Yet his cheek blanches not at the prospect of a death so fearful. He clings to the slippery ropes, and awaits the event with a courage worthy of one of firmer frame and maturer years; whilst the vessel, dashing amidst the waves, still holds stoutly on.
As she did so the mariner leapt down, and, as his feet again touched the deck of his craft, he drew a long breath.
"'Twas a fearful moment," he said, "I ne'er before looked down whilst so close upon the eternal bed of many a tall and stately vessel. 'Twas a moment that told of life or death."
"'Tis passed, then," said the youth; "see, we are driving away from yonder white gallopers, who seem to course each other in an endless chase."
"'Tis passed, for this time," said the mariner; "but we are on a fearful coast on such an evening as this. Methought I know each foot of these waters; but in such a driving gale 'tis scarce possible to know our course."
"And what then will you do?" inquired the youth.
"Still make for the mouth of the haven I told you of," said the captain; "and which leads us to safety, if we can hit it."
"No easy matter, methinks," said the youth, "in such a gale, eh?"
"Nevertheless, I do not despair," returned the mariner. "My youth has been passed upon these very seas. But this is no weather for your Excellency," he continued respectfully, taking the youth's hand, and leading him towards the cabin of the half-decked vessel.
"You forget I am the commander in this expedition," said the youth, smiling.
"Only of the land-forces," said the mariner, returning the smile; "the vessel, by our compact, I am to be captain of."
Half-an-hour after this conversation and the gallant barque was quietly and slowly winding its course along the muddy stream which flows up to the Dutch-built Cinque Port situated at this part of the coast.
The Cinque Ports in Elizabeth's day, albeit their grandeur had in a great measure departed from them, were still of great importance to the nation. There was a pride and pomposity of manner still to be found amongst the barons, and burgesses, and townsfolk, which had descended to them from, their warlike ancestry, during the days when kings honoured them with their especial favour, and granted them privileges and immunities unknown to other towns. With all the pride of their mail-clad ancestry, therefore, and whose constant sufferance had been sack and siege, fire and slaughter, the more peaceful Cinque Porter of Elizabeth's day considered himself still a sort of a magnifico. 'Tis true that in place of the chain-mail and two-handed weapons of the iron-men of the Norman period, whose only trade was war, the present race were clad in the high-crown hat, the short cloak, and the full trunks of the well-dealing merchant. Yet still, albeit the portly, lank-haired, Flemish-looking burgher stood upon his gentility as he walked the key of this muddy haven, yet still, we say, steel corslet and military pride was not altogether laid aside, and the trade of merchandize had not entirely superseded efficiency in the trade of war.
On the morning following the night on which the strange barque entered the haven of Sandwich, two portly townsmen greeted each other in the Fish Market.
"What vessel was that same which crept up last night and lies moored before the Fisher's Gate?" inquired neighbour De Bock of Master Cramp.
"I can't observe," said Cramp. "She looks queer, methinks. There's an armed sentinel upon her deck, to keep any one from leaving her without license, and another man-at-arms upon the shore with loaded caliver, who walks up and down forsooth, as who should say, keep off Sir Curious, and pry not too closely into our affairs."
"Is she from Holland, think ye?" inquired De Bock.
"I should say nay to that," said Cramp.
"Is she from London, laden with serge, baize, and flannel, think ye?"
"I rather opine not."
"What is her rig, neighbour?"
"Nondescript, I think."
"What is her build?"
"Indescribable, I should say."
"Hath she any freight at all on board?"
"As far as I can judge, she hath a freight."
"And what is it?"
"Principally arms of various sorts—rapier and dagger pike and arqebus."
"Ha, sayst thou? Then must she be seized, and her destination inquired into."
"That might cause some sort of controversy—some arbitration—since each weapon I have named hath a man tacked to it, and a hand to exercise it."
"What, is she then filled with armed men, neighbour?"
"She is. So much have I learned by looking down at her just now from the tower of St. Clement's Church."
"'Fore Gad, she may be a Spaniard then."
"I think nay to that, too."
"Or a pirate?"
"There thou hast it; methinks she is a pirate. Nay, certes she is a pirate who has been forced to take shelter in our haven by yesterday's gale."
"My life upon't thou art right. Let's e'en go look upon her, and then to the mayor with our report." And the worthy burgesses immediately threaded the narrow streets, and approached the Fisher's Gate, which looks upon the flats on the Thanet side of the town.
Just within the Fisher's Gate, and in the narrow lane which leads down to it from the town, there is still to be seen an ancient hostel called the Checquers. Its low arched doors, its narrow passages, its comfortable sanded parlour, its ample kitchen, diamond paned windows, and small comfortable rooms, low in roof, and ponderous in beam, bespeak its early date. It had been the hostel of the Fisher's Gate full half a century before the period of our story.
If curiosity was a ruling passion with the two burgesses, love of good liquor was equally strong, and accordingly as they necessarily passed this old hostel, they turned in for their morning's draught.
As they did so, they found it was occupied by two persons belonging to the very vessel which had so much excited their curiosity. One was a slight and effeminate looking youth, of most graceful form, and features of exceeding beauty. His long curled ringlets hung over either shoulder, which, as it was not the fashion of the day, rendered his appearance even more remarkable. His dress, although it bespoke the sea-faring man, was evidently fashioned after his own whim. Perhaps it was more in the style of the Venetian sailor than the English sea-faring man. Such as it was, however, it added much to the graceful beauty of him who wore it; and as it was accompanied by a certain rakish swagger, an assumed easy manner, the appearance of the juvenile stranger altogether considerably astonished the two grave, staid, and simple-minded Cinque Port functionaries, who entered the hostel.
The companion of the youth was a man in no way remarkable, except for his high forehead, intelligent countenance, and well-knit and somewhat athletic form. His costume was that of a sort of amphibious adventurer of the period, half sailor, half soldier—a man equally serviceable either on the deck of his vessel, or in the tented field, and alike trained to the arts and man[oe]uvres of war on the rampart or in the trench, on horseback or on foot. His twisted-hilted and long rapier was carried in a broad buff belt; his gauntlets reached to his elbow; his thick leathern doublet carried the marks of the breast-plate he wore on service, and the wide-topped boots reached his full trunks, like those of a fisherman of the present time.
The youth before-named occupied an arm chair, situated near a table on which the appliances for a substantial breakfast were placed, and which he occupied in a sort of lounging, jaunty style, ever and anon picking a small portion from the plate before him, and conveying it to his lips with the point of his richly-guarded dagger, the whilst his stalwart comrade applied himself to the viands like one who especially relished a good meal.
"Your Excellency," said this latter sailor, without seeming to notice the entrance of the native burghers of the town, "scarce seems to have found the benefit of these Kentish breezes. Your appetite is somewhat dainty this morning, methinks; and yet this bread is white as the snowflake, and sweet and wholesome withal. Let me give you the veriest taste of this Canary wine, 'twill coax you into trying yonder pastie."
"I thank thee, good Captain Fluellyn,"[11] returned the youth, "I cannot bear Canary so early. Indeed, my breakfast is already made; I eat but slightly in the morning. At dinner I will drink with ye turn and turn about, an you list, till your brain reels like a top."
"Ah, so thou ever sayest," returned the Captain, "but when dinner comes your Excellency still evades the wine-cup."
The title given to the youthful navigator, his distinguished appearance, and the luxuries by which he was surrounded, rather astonished the natives as they observed the pair.
It was plain that the silver goblets from which they drank, and the elaborately ornamented plates and dishes upon which the viands were served, together with the handsome case of liquors, all of which belonged to a sort of canteen which stood open near the table, must have been brought for the use of this noble from the ship then lying but a few yards off.
The curiosity, therefore, of the two townsmen was considerably excited to know who and what he was, and as both himself and the stalwart captain continued their conversation and meal without taking the slightest notice of their presence, their self-importance was a trifle injured, and Master De Bock addressed himself to the handsome sailor.
"If I may crave permission of interrupting your exertions for a moment," he said, stepping up to the table, "I would fain know if our presence here is intrusive, and, if so, I would crave permission to retire with my worthy townsman here."
At this sage address from the lank-haired round-faced burgher, the tall captain laid down the small dagger with which he was helping himself to a portion of the savory pastie before him, and, twisting the end of his moustache, stared at him for a few moments, and then throwing himself back in his chair, looked inquiringly into the face of his companion.
The youth was evidently inclined to laugh; there was, indeed, a sort of twinkle in his eye as he returned the stare of the sea-captain.
"Is it your Countship's pleasure to be private?" at length, said the latter, as the burgher stood gazing with his fishy eye upon the youth.
"We do in some sort court seclusion," said the Count, "and to that end, have engaged and hired this hostel, for the especial use of ourselves and followers during the stay of our vessel in yonder haven."
"Shall I signify the same unto these worthy traders?" said the Captain.
"His lordship hath himself spoken it," said the burgess, "we take our leave. May we, however, crave to know the honoured title of the distinguished personage visiting our town, and the name of the vessel in which he has arrived? It is necessary we should convey to his honour the mayor intelligence of such visitation, in order that he may wait upon his lordship in proper form."
The youth again smiled. "I am myself called," he said, "'the Count of the Saxon shore.' The vessel in which I am passenger is named the 'Phantom,' commanded by this worthy gentleman, my esteemed friend Captain Fluellyn, a gallant seaman, who hath sailed with Drake, and fought the Spaniard by sea and land."
Upon this introduction, the Captain thought it necessary to rise from his chair, and bow to the two townsmen in due form, which they as formally returned. After which, at a sign from the Count, he offered them a glass of Canary from the high-necked bottle upon the table.
"The Count of the Saxon shore," said De Bock, smacking his lips with ineffable relish as he sat down the glass. "That is, indeed, an ancient title, and one I knew not was still in existence. Doth your lordship claim to be lineally descended from tho Roman whose authority extended in former days along this coast, and whose castle walls are still to be seen at hand here, and called Rugulbium or Reculver?"
"By the father's aide, most assuredly," said the Count. "Maternally, I am of Kentish extraction, since, on the female side I claim descent from the god Woden, whose effigy was as you know, or ought to know, enthroned upon the hill a mile westward of your town, and called to this day Wodnesborough."
"A most respectable lineage," said tho burgess, quite awe-struck at so glorious a descent. "His worship the mayor, attended by the hogmace, the supervisor of the gutters, the several beadles in commission within our walls, will have the honour of waiting upon your lordship forthwith."
"The honour will be to us," said the Count, rising and bowing as the burgesses were about to leave the apartment. "For the next four hours we shall be engaged here in consulting with our gallant friend, and certain messengers we expect to arrive; after that, if it so please your mayor, we will receive him."
"And now, Captain," said the Count, reseating himself, "since we have got rid of those cane-bearded worthies, and you have finished your meal, we will, if it so please ye, discuss certain matters appertaining to this venture of ours."
"I am all readiness to give attention, Sir Count," said the Captain, also sitting himself comfortably in his chair, and drawing the case of liquors close beside him.
"In the first place, then, I trust you clearly comprehend my intentions in this voyage?"
"I think as much," said the Captain, filling his glass; "nevertheless, perhaps you will oblige me by repeating your wishes?"
"My voyage, then, I would have you to understand, is more a voyage of discovery than of profit. I neither wish to work mines, nor burn and sack towns. I would avoid all chance, if possible, of coming into collision with the Spaniard; and, unless I see occasion for other course, I would rather fly from, than seek an enemy."
"But," said the Captain, "you scarce gave out so much before. This somewhat exceeds what I expected. The Falcon is constructed after some improved notions of my own, and will assuredly outstrip any vessel upon the seas; but I like not to be always upon the wing. You forget I am one of Drake's first comrades, and have learned to love powder as devotedly as I hate the Spaniard. Body o' me, I shall lose what reputation I have gained! We shall be taken for little else besides knaves and cowards."
"You will find me ready enough to fight where fighting is my cue," interrupted the Count; "and if our voyage is successful, I will be myself an East and West Indies to you, inasmuch as you shall never again be obliged to seek fortune in the wide seas. And now we understand one another perfectly?"
"Your last argument is all-powerful," said the Captain. "I admire your love of adventure, coupled as it is with so much humanity, and am yours for the voyage, making peace or war as you affect either the one or the other. Nevertheless, I may as well remind your lordship, ere you embark on the enterprise, that we sailors of Drake and Frobisher, since the time we have interfered with the Spaniard, have a proverb, that there 'is no peace beyond the line.'"
"I have heard so much," said the Count, "and now methinks, whilst we wait here for the person appointed to join us, a short history of your adventures in these seas would serve to while away the hours."
"The history of my life might prove both distasteful and tedious to you," said the Captain; "but a brief account of it is at your service. Where shall I begin?"
Just as the sea captain was about to commence his narrative, and whilst he refilled his pipe with the weed he professed such veneration for, the sharp-ringing sound of horse's hoofs were heard beneath the arch of the gate-house, which indeed was so close to the old hostel that it almost formed a part of the building.
At this period there was no drawbridge across the stream which separated the town from the Island of Thanet, and communication was kept up by a ferry-boat, which plied exactly opposite the Fisher's Gate.
As the horseman was ferried across, he hailed the craft which had caused so much curiosity to the Sandwegians.
"Hillo, ho, ho! Falcon there! Is the Count on board?"
"Gone on shore," was the brief answer returned.
"Captain on board?" inquired the horseman.
"Ashore with the Count."
"Where do they lodge?"
"At the hostel within yonder gateway."
Accordingly, the horseman, after landing, rode straight up to the Checquers, and unceremoniously entered the apartment in which the Count and Captain were seated.
"Welcome, good Martin," said the Count, rising, "you see we keep time and tryst here."
"I am here at my time," said the traveller.
"I am right glad you have so soon joined us," said the Count; "for, sooth to say, both the Captain and myself are most anxious to be on the broad waves of the Atlantic."
"Our necessaries are by this time on board," said the Captain; "and as this honourable person makes up the file of gentlemen engaged for the expedition, what stays us, but we warp out to sea at once? In an hour I will undertake to be under weigh."
"Be it so," said the Count. "In an hour myself and friend will be on board."
And the Captain rose, and, after another cup of Canary, proceeded to his ship.
"Have you succeeded in learning any fresh tidings?" said the Count to our old friend Martin.
"I have journeyed far, and in something profited by my travel," said Martin. "I have visited the Netherlands, and also been in Warwickshire, since I met you in London, and now I keep tryste, and am here as appointed."
"You are ever worthy and zealous in the cause of your friends," returned the Count; "what are your tidings?"
"Briefly, then," said Martin, "I have reason to believe the good Walter lives; but, if such be the case, he is prisoner to the Spaniard—the worst sort of captivity—since he is in the hands of those who know no touch of pity, and are incensed against the English. This letter will better inform you of his situation."
The Count took the letter and perused it. "We will speed to his assistance," he said, as he refolded it. "And, now, how goes all in Warwickshire. Hath Sir Hugh Clopton returned?"
"Of Warwickshire I have not much news to give," said Martin. "Sir Hugh is still in the Low Countries. At Shottery all is as usual. Your steward commends him to you. Yet, stay, there is some further news of your own neighbourhood. Your old playmate, Anne Hathaway, is married to young Shakespeare."
"That I concluded must have taken place," said the Count, "since, when I left Shottery, they were to be united in a few days. I trust she will be happy. The bridegroom is, however, somewhat young to make a steady husband. I think I have heard you say you knew something of the lad: report speaks of him as a wild youth."
"Report is in something correct, I believe," said Martin. "To say I knew him well would be to say more than I should be warranted in affirming. What I did know of that young man served me for matter of reflection. For his wildness I cannot offer excuse, except that he hath a mounting spirit; nay, I will venture to affirm, that had your expedition been delayed a week, he would have joined in it."
"'Tis better as it is," said the Count, "I would not that my good friend Anne should so soon lose her husband."
"There is, however," continued Martin, "startling news from London, and which I rather think I am the first to announce in this town, as I over-rode a foundered post between this place and Canterbury. The Queen of Scots, 'tis said, is again involved in a dangerous conspiracy to destroy our brave mistress, Queen Elizabeth."