“Nay, verily I did rush to her rescue, Sir Knight,” replied Sang; “but ere I could reach her, I was beset by some dozen of the guards from the Palace, and, ere I wist, I was beaten to the earth, captured, and thrown into a vault, where I lay for the remainder of the night, and whence I have been this moment brought hither, being accused of treason, in attempting to enter the Royal Palace at midnight, with intent to kill the King.”
Hepborne threw himself down on his straw, and yielded himself up to the full flood of the affliction that came on him with the thought of the Lady Beatrice’s fate. He reproached himself in a thousand ways for not having prevented that over which he could have had no control; and neither his esquire nor Master Lawrence Ratcliffe could succeed in giving him the smallest consolation.
CHAPTER LXVI.
A Ship of Olden Times—Tempest Tossed—Arrival at the Maison Dieu in Elgin.
The bark which we left threading its way down the mazes of the Thames made a tedious and difficult passage northwards along the coast of England. It was sometimes borne on by favouring breezes, but it often encountered furious contrary blasts that compelled the dauntless Mercer, its commander, to yield before them, and to submit to be driven back for many a league. We must not forget that naval architecture and nautical science were then, comparatively speaking, in their infancy. The hull of this Scottish privateer, or pirate, as she was called by the English, was awkwardly encumbered by two enormous erections. One of these, over the stern, is still recognized in some degree in the poop of our larger ships. Of the other, called the forecastle, although nothing now remains but the name, it was then in reality a tower of considerable height, [[530]]manned during an engagement by cross-bow men, who were enabled to gall the enemy very severely from that elevated position. The masts were three, one rising from the middle of the vessel, and the others from the two extremities, each formed of one thick short tree, the mainmast being the largest. At the upper end of each mast was fixed a circular stage, walled strongly in with wood; these were called the round-tops, and were large enough to admit of several warriors being stationed in them. Each mast had but one sail hanging from its yard, and that attached to the mainmast was the only sheet of magnitude.
“Ha! what sayest thou now, Barnard?” exclaimed Mercer, slapping on the shoulder his steersman, an old sailor, who had served him and his father before him for some fifty years in the same capacity, and whose back was bent by his constant position at the helm; “methinks this is the only breeze that hath promised to be steady during these fourteen days of our wearisome voyage. An it do but last for some good hour or twain, we may hope to see the other side of St. Abb’s yonder.”
“Ay,” replied Barnard, casting his eye over his left shoulder, “but I like not yonder wide-flaming cloud that doth heave itself up so i’ the sou’-west, Master Mercer. I’m no sailor an it be not big with something worse than aught we have had yet to deal with.”
“Come, come, no evil-omened croaking, Master Barnard,” replied Mercer; “should the breeze freshen, we shall speed but the faster.”
“Nay, but I do tell thee, there is some cruel ill-nature yonder,” said Barnard, sticking testily to his point.